#or the way another’s brows furrow when they get angry

[daryltwdixon]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4?

Summary: After an accidental Freudian slip in bed with your husband, you and Joel agree to take a step back. Boundaries are drawn, lines are reinforced—but the damage is done, and even the strongest of willpower can't keep you apart.

|| smut MDNI 18+, little bit of angst there too, starting to not really be able to say this isn't cheating anymore yikes, dirty talk, pinv, riding, breeding kink, no outbreak, little bit of action with Tommy (f!receiving oral) Joel Miller is starting to catch feeeeelingssss ruh roh || notes: oh boy oh boy did I get secondhand embarrassment from this one. I think my eyes might start bleeding if I try rereading this again so plz lmk of any errors

Tommy had always been good to you. Patient, eager to please. He took his time, hands kneading the soft skin of your thighs, mouth dragging slow, open-mouthed kisses along your inner leg like he was savoring you. Like he loved you. And he did. Maybe that was the problem.

Because love wasn’t the same thing as knowing.

He wanted you to feel good, of course he did—but there was something hesitant about it, something careful. Like he was trying to do right by you instead of wreck you. Like he was holding back.

His tongue traced a path through your folds, licking and eating and suckling everywhere except where you needed him most. You squirmed, hips pushing up into his mouth, searching for that right spot, just a little higher, to the left…

You hummed when his nose nudged your clit, eyes fluttering shut, and what you didn’t mean to do was picture another man with the last name Miller instead of the one between your legs.

But you did.

And you didn’t picture patience. You pictured hunger.

Joel had devoured you, consumed you like he’d been starved for it, like he would’ve died if he didn’t get his mouth on you, inside you. He hadn’t wasted a second searching—he knew exactly where to touch, exactly how to work you open, like he’d memorized your body before he even had his hands on it. And God, those hands. The way they parted your thighs like the sea, fingers digging deep like they belonged there, like they were meant to bruise.

And his filthy, sinful mouth—

That voice, rough and low as he’d murmured against your soaked skin, coaxing you through every little whimper and gasp, urging you to let go, just one more, pretty girl, gimme another. You’d come on his tongue again and again until you could barely breathe, until you were trembling, until he finally, finally let you rest.

Tommy just didn’t do things like that. 

Tommy felt like warmth, like comfort, like the hands of a man who wanted to love you—but not the hands of a man who understood you.

And maybe that was why you didn’t even hear yourself when it slipped out–

“Joel–”

And then there was silence.

Thick and suffocating, pressing against your ears, your chest, your ribs.

Tommy had stopped. You barely registered it at first—so lost in your own head, in the whiplash of pleasure and horror—until you felt the absence of his mouth, the cool air licking over your slick skin. He had frozen in place, his breath still warm against your thigh, but he wasn’t moving.

And then, slowly, achingly, he sat back.

You didn’t want to look at him.

Didn’t want to see the way his brow furrowed, his mouth parted like he was going to say something but didn’t quite know how.

Didn’t want to see the way his hands flexed against your legs before he let go of you completely and sat back on the pillows beside you.

The space between you suddenly felt massive.

“Oh, God,” you croaked, your stomach bottoming out. “Oh, Tommy, I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—”

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

You scrambled, heat clawing up your throat, shame like a hand around your neck. “It was just—my head was all over the place, I wasn’t thinking, I—I swear I didn’t mean it, Tommy, I—”

“Stop.”

It wasn’t angry. If it was, maybe it would’ve been easier. Maybe you could’ve handled that.

But it was quiet. Resigned.

Tommy exhaled, dragging a hand down his face before finally meeting your eyes. You wished he hadn’t.

Because there it was. Not fury. Not disgust. Hurt. Disappointment.

“I, uh…” He let out a small breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Like he couldn’t believe it. “I guess I should’ve seen this comin’.”

Your pulse stuttered. “Tommy, no—”

He shook his head, lifting a hand, stopping you again. “I knew this wasn’t gonna be easy,” he murmured, voice low, rough. “Knew feelings could get mixed up. Thought we could have rules and make it simple.” A humorless chuckle, a shake of his head. “Jesus.”

You swallowed thickly, throat raw. “I love you, Tommy.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, and something inside of him cracked. He nodded, reaching for you, letting you lay your head on his chest. “I know.” But when you looked up, his jaw tightened, his fingers curling into loose fists. “I just—I see the way you two are lately.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his voice softened. “You and Joel.”

Your breath caught.

He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, his shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. “There’s just…this energy between you. Always has been, I guess, but now…” He huffed out another short, mirthless laugh, shaking his head again. “Shit, I don’t even think you two see it. Not fully.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Maybe you had seen it. Felt it. Maybe you’d been feeling it since the very first time, but you had locked it up, shoved it down, willed it away because you loved Tommy. Because you had made a choice.

Hadn’t you?

Tommy sighed, rubbing at his temple. “I just wanted a family with you.” His voice was thick, hoarse, like he was forcing the words through gravel. “More than anything.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I still do.”

You blinked hard, nodding, hands trembling as you reached for him. “And we will, Tommy, we—”

The arm he had around you stiffened, fingers twitching as you touched him. 

“That’s the thing, though,” he murmured, voice quieter now. “We’re sittin’ here, prayin’ for somethin’ to take, prayin’ for this baby—and when I picture it…” He trailed off, shaking his head, letting out a breath that sounded defeated.

Your stomach twisted. “Tommy.”

He blinked down, eyes focused on the blankets. “When I picture it,” he repeated, slower this time, like he was barely holding himself together, “I dunno if I see me anymore.”

It felt like a gut punch.

His jaw flexed, something breaking in his voice. “I knew it might get messy with Joel. Knew we might have to separate things in our heads, that you’d be spendin’ time with him, that it’d be—” His breath shuddered. “That it’d be him touchin’ you, not me.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, his fingers tightening. “I thought I could let it slide if it made you happy.”

Tommy’s words still hung heavy in the air, thick as smoke, curling in the space between you.

But you wouldn’t let them settle. Because he was wrong.

You let out a slow breath against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath your cheek, the familiar warmth of him. Then, with purpose, you pushed yourself up, sitting back on your heels, straddling his lap. Your hands pressed against his bare skin, grounding you both as you looked down at him—really looked at him.

“Listen to me.” Your voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. His eyes flicked up, wary but locked onto yours. “If this works—if we have this baby—that’s ours, Tommy. Yours and mine.” You shook your head, fingers tightening slightly where they rested against him. “Not Joel’s. Ours.”

His jaw tensed, something flickering behind his eyes. You didn’t let him look away.

“I love you,” you continued, voice unwavering. “I chose you. I choose you.” You swallowed, feeling the weight of every word. “Yeah, it’s gonna be weird at first, but this—this is about us, not him.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching against your thighs. “I just…” He hesitated, looking up at you, searching. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You’re not,” you said instantly. “You won’t.”

His hands slid up, gripping your hips now, solid and warm, like he needed to feel you, to believe you. His brow furrowed, lips parting slightly, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, slowly, his grip tightened.

You felt the shift in him before you saw it. The way his body responded to yours, the way his fingers curled into your skin, grounding himself in you.

His eyes darkened just slightly, flickering down to your lips before dragging back up, searching your face.

You leaned in first.

The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was deep, tender, his breath hot against your mouth as he surged up, pulling you down, swallowing the last remnants of doubt between you. His hands traveled, skimming up your back, one sliding into your hair, the other gripping your waist like he needed to feel every inch of you, needed to remember.

A soft sound slipped from your throat as you shifted against him, the hard press of his body undeniable beneath you. The heat between you burned away the uncertainty, leaving only this.

His tongue slid against yours, slow and deliberate, as if reclaiming you, as if reminding you—you were his.

His grip tightened. Then, with a rumbling deep in his chest, he flipped you onto your back.

And for a second—just a split second—your mind flickered back to the last time someone had pinned you down like this.

You shoved the thought away, sealing yourself in this moment. In him.

Because you had made your choice.

Hadn’t you?

The tile shop smelled of fresh-cut stone, sawdust clinging faintly to the air beneath the sharp scent of industrial cleaner as you browsed the samples. 

Joel walked beside you, giving you advice on the best materials for the bathroom remodel. He fit in here, comfortable among the stacks of flooring samples, the thick catalogs of material swatches, the talk of grout and durability. 

When you reached the section of colorful tiles to pick from, he grabbed a copy of Home Building magazine from a nearby shelf in his hands, flipping through it absently as he leaned a hip against the counter of the showroom.

“So, you gonna tell me why Tommy was bitin’ my head off yesterday on a job?” His voice was rough but casual, like he wasn’t too concerned.

You blinked, stalling mid-step by the tile wall. “Huh?”

Joel looked up at you, gaze darkening like he thought you were playing dumb. “Was layin’ into me about every little thing. Usually, I can take one or two from ‘im—ya know, messin’ around, shootin’ the shit.” He flipped another page, shaking his head. “But this was different. Something got under his skin.” Then, content, he shut the catalog, setting it down on the counter and tilting his head.

Your stomach twisted. You dropped your gaze, fingers grazing over the veins in a slab of white marble, tracing the golden and brown threads weaving through the cool surface. The crisp, clean lines blurred as your thoughts ran too fast, searching for a way to frame this—if there even was one.

Joel called your name, and you hesitated before looking at him, only to drop your gaze just as fast, settling on his boots instead of his face.

“What’s goin’ on?” His voice came softer this time, a low murmur. He stepped toward you, his presence shifting the air around you, pulling tighter.

“I, uh…” Your lips pressed into a thin line. The words felt jagged in your throat, difficult to shape. “I may have screwed up.”

Joel’s brows pulled together. “Oh?”

“The other night, Tommy and I…we were…” You flicked your eyes to his, then around to check your surroundings before lowering your voice. “Ya know.”

Joel gave a slow nod, urging you to continue.

“And at one point… I was just trying to get myself there, ya know, I was close but couldn’t quite manage to…” You sucked in a deep breath, your skin prickling with heat. “I said your name.”

His frown deepened, forehead creasing, but he didn’t say anything—didn’t seem to fully understand yet.

You swallowed, heart drumming hard. “I said your name, Joel. Instead of his. Instead of my husband’s.”

Realization crawled over his face, slow, dawning. A flush crept along the tips of his ears, darkening the already pink hue to his skin.

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh shit is right,” you muttered, turning back to the tiles, though the intricate veins of marble couldn’t hold your focus.

Joel exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “This has gone too far,” he mumbled. “We can’t keep… this is too messy.”

You nodded, though it barely felt like agreement when there was a lump growing in your throat, thick and suffocating.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

The air outside was crisp, the sun starting to dip just enough to soften the light when you finished up with the tiles. You adjusted the weight of samples in your arms, stepping toward Joel’s truck.

Joel walked beside you, quiet. He’d been quiet ever since you left the showroom, brooding and only giving answers when needed, only talking to the salesman about the projects he was working on. 

You grabbed the handle of the passenger door to open it—

But before you could, his hand shot out, slamming it shut again.

You startled, jerking slightly as his palm flattened firm against the metal. The space between you shrank, the air suddenly heavier as you turned to face him.

Your pulse skipped. “Joel?”

He didn’t look at you right away. Just kept his hand there, his jaw tight, something unreadable pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Then, after a moment, he swallowed, inhaled deep through his nose, and said, “I’m only gonna say this once.”

Your stomach tightened.

Joel turned his head just slightly, gaze flicking to you beneath furrowed brows. His voice was low, measured, but careful. So careful. It didn’t match the weight of his words.

“And then never again,” he murmured. “You hear me?”

You nodded, barely breathing anymore.

Joel inhaled again, like he was bracing himself. Then, finally, “My head’s all messed up over this,” he admitted, voice low, gravel-rough. “I ain’t been right since the first time. Since you.”

Your stomach clenched. Joel exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his mouth, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t believe he was about to say this. “Tried to put it away, pretend it don’t mean anythin’. Tried to tell myself it’s just sex, just a favor, just somethin’ to get you and Tommy what you want—”

He huffed a short, bitter laugh, gaze flicking away for a second before finding yours again.

“But it ain’t just that. Not for me.”

Heat bloomed beneath your skin, thick and suffocating.

Joel’s fingers flexed against the truck door. His jaw tensed. “I ain’t been with anyone else since this started.” He let the words settle, let them sink in. “Haven’t even wanted to.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

He shook his head again, his voice getting rougher, rawer, the truth scraping its way out of him. “And now I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. Can’t stop wonderin’ how you’re gonna sound, how you’re gonna feel every time I close my damn eyes. Can’t stop picturin’ you in my bed.” His breath shuddered. “I can’t even fuckin’ touch myself without seein’ you.”

You felt something tighten low in your stomach, sharp and unbearable.

His voice dipped, low and ragged. “And I—” He stopped himself, swallowing thickly before murmuring, almost like a confession, “I like it too much to want to stop. But we have to.”

Your chest rose and fell faster, your pulse hammering as your fingers twitched toward him. The storm of feelings in your head was screaming at you to stop reaching out to touch him. You couldn’t help it. Your body moved, closed in, your eyes dragging over his face before landing on his lips.

How could you feel like this?

How could you want two men at once? How could you look Tommy in the eyes, tell him you loved him, tell him you chose him, and then stand here now—your body tilting toward Joel like you didn’t have a choice in the matter? But the truth was, you had never chosen this. You had never asked for this. It had crept up on you in stolen moments, in the space between duty and desire, in the unspoken, in the way Joel knew you without even trying.

He was so close. So warm.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? You had always loved Tommy differently. Steady, safe, the warmth of something real and tangible, the kind of love that built a future. But Joel? Joel was something else entirely. He was unshakable—a presence that settled deep in your bones, that lived in the quiet parts of you, the places you had never let anyone else see. He was the ache in your stomach when his voice dropped too low, the heat in your chest when he looked at you just a second too long, the part of you that had been unraveling since the first night his hands had been on you.

The lines between them were blurred now, bleeding into one another, and you were standing in the middle of it, grasping at both of them, unsure which one would steady you first.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. He inhaled sharply, his chest rising beneath your palm, the warmth of him soaking into your skin like he belonged there.

And then, just as you began closing the distance between you, Joel pulled away.

His hand shot up, covering yours, pressing it firmly against his chest for just a second before peeling it away.

His head shook once. “No,” he said, rough. “We can’t.”

Your stomach dropped. His gaze met yours, full of something aching and raw, but his next words were firm.

“I won’t do that to Tommy. We said we wouldn’t let it get messy.”

Your throat bobbed, “Joel…”

He shook his head again, jaw tight as he released you, stepping back like he had to. Like if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to. A humorless huff of breath left his mouth before he said, “Already broke two rules, didn’t we?”

And when you didn’t reply, he shook his head and opened your door, “Get in the truck.”

The drive back was quiet.

Not the easy kind, not the peaceful kind—it was the kind that sat heavy between you, thick and charged, the kind where every breath felt too loud, where neither of you dared to fill the silence because what the hell was there even left to say?

Joel kept his hands on the wheel, his fingers flexing against the worn leather grip, his gaze fixed on the road like if he looked at you for even a second too long, he might crack.

You kept your hands in your lap, fidgeting and trying to ignore the way your skin still burned where he had touched you—where he had stopped touching you.

The truck rumbled as he pulled up in front of your house, tires crunching over gravel. He shifted into park but didn’t kill the engine. Didn’t move.

You turned to him, clearing your throat, “Next week, for your birthday–”

Joel’s knuckles flexed against the steering wheel, “What about it–”

“Tommy and I want to have you over,” you said simply. “I’m cookin’ steaks. There’ll be cake and the whole nine.”

His head turned slightly, brow furrowing. “What? Why?”

“I want—” You stopped yourself, pulse skipping before you corrected, “We want to. It’s just dinner, Joel. If not for me, for him. For Sarah. Just a regular family dinner.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “You remember what happened the last time you hosted one of them?”

His lips twitched at the corners, and for the first time since the tile shop, the tension cracked, just a little.

Your shoulders sagged slightly in relief, and for a second, things felt normal again. But then his gaze found yours. And just like that, the moment was gone.

For a second, you thought he might refuse. That he’d tell you it was a bad idea, that it was too much, that after everything that had happened, sitting at the same dinner table with you would be the last thing he wanted.

But he didn’t. Instead, he let out a slow breath, eyes flicking away like he was trying to find an argument and coming up empty.

Finally, he gave a small nod. “Alright.”

Your chest loosened. “Good. Be here at six.”

You reached for the handle, pushing the door open, stepping out into the cool evening air. The truck door creaked as you turned back, gripping the edge of it for just a second longer than necessary.

Joel wasn’t watching you, just staring forward at your house, the glow of golden hour drenching everything in a deep orange.

“And Joel?” 

His eyes turned to see you, like he had just pulled himself from a deep thought, “...Hm?”

Your lips parted, and you took a slow breath, steadying yourself, forcing your tone to be calm, deliberate, heavier than anything else you could’ve said.

“Fuck those rules.”

You slammed the door shut before he could say another word.

The dinner went fine.

Really, it did.

Sure, there was tension, but it stayed beneath the surface, stitched up neatly between polite smiles and easy conversation. You played your part well—a good wife, a good sister-in-law, a good aunt to Sarah.

She didn’t need to know how messy things had gotten, how tangled things had become between the most important people in her life. She laughed when you teased her about school, rolled her eyes at her dad’s bad jokes, and beamed when Tommy ruffled her hair like he always did. Normal.

Joel did the same. Sat across from you at the dinner table, calm, collected, focused on his plate like the steak needed his full attention. He spoke when he had to, laughed when it was natural, let Tommy rib him about finally letting himself be celebrated for once. If anyone had been watching closely, they’d say he was fine.

But you caught him looking.

You weren’t sure if it was just a ‘he glanced at you at the same time you glanced at him’ kind of thing, awkward and just coincidence. But it happened too often for that. His eyes dragged over your face for a second too long when you passed him a dish. His fingers would flex around his beer bottle when Sarah chatted to you about soccer. He sat back in his chair at one point, fingers tapping idly against his thigh, gaze slipping to your mouth before he forced himself to look away. 

And then later, when you were singing him an off-key rendition of Happy Birthday—Sarah belting, Tommy grinning, and Joel blushing crimson with a hand over his face—you saw the way the candlelight flickered in his eyes.

“Make a wish!” Sarah exclaimed as the song died down.

Joel leaned forward, jaw tight, hands moving to brace against the edge of the table. The room quieted, waiting. And just as he was about to blow them out… He looked at you.

It was quick, a flick of his eyes, a second too long, a beat too heavy. But it was enough. Enough to make your breath hitch, enough to send something sharp and aching down your spine.

Like whatever was running through his head had everything to do with you and nothing to do with wishing for more wishes.

Then the candles went out.

Cheers from Tommy and Sarah filled the room, shattering the moment, breaking the thread stretched too tight. You quickly joined the raucous applauding and Joel sat back, shaking his head when Sarah asked What’d you wish for, Dad?

He didn’t answer.

And you didn’t need him to.

Dinner went fine.

You had been halfway through folding laundry when a knock came at the door a few days later. It was sharp, impatient–a knock that made your stomach tighten before you even reached it.

And as you opened the door, you couldn’t help the surprise on your face when you saw him.

His dark hair was mussed, a mess of waves from a long day’s work, damp strands clinging to his temples. His shirt was stained and sweat-damp at the collar, fabric sticking to the broad stretch of his chest, fresh smudges of dirt and grease painting his skin like he hadn’t even stopped to clean up.

His breath was uneven, shallow, like he had rushed here, like he had spent the whole damn day working through something only to find himself on your doorstep.

“Joel?” you began, looking around for your husband’s truck, “Where’s Tommy?”

“Sent him to talk to the concrete guys.” His voice was rough, like he wasn’t sure he should be here—but he came anyway.

Silence stretched between you, thick and humming. He hadn’t stepped inside, and you didn’t make a move either. 

Finally, he took a deep breath, “Did you mean it?”

You blinked at him, confused.

“When you said fuck the rules.”

Your stomach flipped into your chest, your heart beginning to thunder in your throat. His eyes stayed on you, dark and searching, waiting, almost pleading.

“Yes,” you finally said, voice cracking.

He lunged.

His hands found your face, fingers cupping your jaw with such tenderness that contrasted his need, tilting your head up as his lips crashed into yours—hot, feverish, desperate. You gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed it down, kissing you like he had been starving for it, like he had spent days, hell, months holding himself back only to break now, to let it consume him whole.

You molded together like this wasn’t the first time but the thousandth, like your lips had already memorized the shape of one another, though the heat and the desperate way you clung to him told a different story. Your hands twisted in the worn cotton of his shirt, pulling, yanking, tearing it over his head, arms snaking around his neck as he pushed you back. You only heard the click of the lock as he slammed the door shut behind him.

Your spine hit the wall with a dull thud, and he barely paused. He only stopped to pull your shirt over your head, discarding it like it was nothing before pressing his body flush to yours.

You felt everything–the heat of his skin. The rough scrape of his jeans. The hard, thick press of him between your legs. But it wasn’t just that, it wasn’t just the way he fit against you, the way he felt. It was how hungry he was.

How he touched you like he was mapping you out by memory, hands skimming over your ribs, splaying over your waist before dipping lower, gripping your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. He hoisted you up like it was nothing, like you belonged there.

Your legs locked around his hips, his hands gripping tight beneath you, holding you up, holding you still, pressing you harder into the unyielding wall behind you.

“I’ve wanted to kiss these perfect, sweet lips for so goddamn long,” he breathed, his voice low, wrecked, nearly shaking.

A sound caught in your throat—half gasp, half moan—as Joel kissed you again, deeper, rougher, claiming every inch of your mouth like he wasn’t ever going to stop.

His body was unrelenting, his grip unyielding, his hands moving—always moving, like he couldn’t touch enough of you at once. One held tight to your thigh, pulling you tighter against him, the other sliding up your spine, fingers curling into your hair, tugging just enough to make your head tip back, exposing more of your throat to him. 

And he took it. Mouth dragging lower, teeth grazing, lips parting, sucking, tasting.

Your hands were everywhere—gripping his shoulders, clawing at his back, desperate, needy, as he ground into you, hips pressing tight between your thighs, and suddenly there was no air left between you at all.

There was only heat, hands, breath, and want.

And Joel. Only Joel.

His grip tightened, fingers flexing where they held you, keeping you locked against him, and then he was moving—pulling you with him, dragging you away from the wall like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you for even a second.

Your hands twisted into his hair, keeping him close, lips still fused as he carried you across the room, each step heavy, deliberate, every inch of you pressed against him.

Then, suddenly, your back hit the couch.

The cushions dipped beneath you as Joel settled you down, kneeling between your legs, breath coming short, hands already at your waistband, already pulling, already seeking more.

Your eyes flicked open just as his fingers curled into the denim, but you stopped him.

Your hands covered his, stilling him, and for the first time tonight, Joel froze. His chest rose and fell sharply, his knuckles flexing beneath your touch, his eyes flicking up to yours.

“Let me take care of you tonight,” you whispered.

He didn’t move, you weren’t even sure if he was breathing. He only watched you, pupils blown wide, his jaw tight, like he was caught between disbelief and surrender.

You pushed up, slowly, deliberately, until you were eye level with him, until your mouth was brushing against his again, tongues sliding, teeth nipping, pulling another wrecked sound from deep in his throat. You moaned into him, hands dragging over the planes of his chest before pushing him back, turning him toward the couch.

You stood before him, slow and measured, fingers hooking into your waistband.

Joel’s throat bobbed, his eyes dragging down your bare chest, lower, blazing as they followed your hands, as they lingered where your fingers began pushing your pants down. His breath came rough, unsteady.

"Go on, baby," he rasped, voice wrecked, thick fingers gripping the couch. "Take ‘em off. Show me what’s mine."

You smiled coyly, dragging your shorts down agonizingly slow, and once they were discarded, Joel immediately sat up, hands grabbing for you, fingers spreading wide over your thighs like he couldn’t bear to not touch you another second.

One hand traveled up, dragging from the inside of your knee to the damp heat between your legs, where the lace of your panties was practically soaked through already.

His fingers curled, a low, rough chuckle slipping from his throat as his thumb pressed into your panty clad center, just slightly, just enough to make your breath catch.

"These are cute," he murmured, teasing, and then leaned forward, his mouth finding your hip bone, lips dragging over soft skin, kissing and teasing. His fingers stayed firm, still gripping your thigh as his teeth scraped over the soft flesh of your stomach. His lips traveled lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses into the fabric as it sat just over your thigh, catching the delicate lace between his teeth.

And then he bit down. And ripped them straight off.

"Joel!!" you screeched, your body lurching forward, grabbing at his shoulders, breath knocking out of you at the sheer force of him.

He hummed, satisfied, palming your ass, still gripping you like he wasn’t finished yet.

"Think I’ll keep ‘em," he mused, voice deep, smug, his free hand stuffing the ruined lace into his back pocket.

Your breath heaved out of you, body buzzing as you giggled, shaking your head and climbing on top of his lap, “You are so bad,”

Joel just grinned, hands firm on your cheeks, guiding you, pulling you closer as you sat down on his lap.

The rough grit of denim met your bare center, and the friction sent a sharp pulse of heat through your core. You shivered, sensitive, every nerve ending alight as you rolled your hips down onto him. Joel sucked in a breath, his fingers flexing where they gripped your thighs, but he didn’t push you down, didn’t move to take over, even though you could feel how badly he wanted to. He was holding back, letting you have this moment, letting you grind against the thick press of him as slick coated the seam of his jeans, your body aching for more.

"Help me get these off?" he muttered, voice low, thick, barely in control. His hands stayed on your thighs as you reached down, fingers fumbling with his belt, the clatter of the buckle mixing with your heavy breathing.

With shaking fingers, you dragged the zipper down, the sound barely louder than the ragged breaths filling the room. He lifted his hips, only releasing you to shove his jeans down to his knees, hissing through his teeth as his cock sprang free, thick and hot, the head already glistening.

The breath of relief he let out was cut short as your fingers wrapped around him, slow, deliberate, dragging along his length just to watch his face twist in pleasure. His whole body tensed beneath you, jaw clenched tight, chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths as he let you stroke him, let you feel every hard inch of him. His cock twitched in your grip, heat pooling between your thighs at the sheer size of him, the way he pulsed in your hand, the way his fingers dug into your skin, like he was fighting to keep himself from flipping you over and slamming you into the couch right then and there.

"Next time," you whispered, leaning in until your lips brushed his ear, voice dripping with promise, "you're at least gonna let me suck your cock. Deal?"

A sound ripped from his throat, half-growl, half-moan, and his hand shot up, tangling in your hair, gripping hard as he crushed his mouth to yours, kissing you deep, all tongue and teeth and hunger. His free hand slid down your back, rough fingertips dragging over heated skin before gripping your ass, kneading, pulling you against him, pressing you flush to the heat of him.

"Next time," he muttered, voice thick, heavy, wrecked, "but if you don’t sit on my cock right now, I swear to God, I will flip you over and—"

You cut him off with a smirk, lifting yourself up just enough to run him through your soaked folds, teasing, coating him in you. His breath hitched, sharp, his grip tightening against your hips, his whole body going rigid beneath you.

"You’ll what now?" you teased, notching the head of his cock at your entrance.

The thickness of him was always overwhelming. No matter how many times you had taken him, no matter how much he stretched you, there was always that moment when your body had to adjust, had to accommodate the sheer size of him. You moaned as you sank down slowly, taking your time, feeling the slow, delicious stretch as he filled you inch by inch.

Joel's head fell back against the couch, brows furrowed, his lips parting around a broken groan as he let you take him, let you work yourself down onto him at your own pace. His fingers flexed against your waist, gripping tight, sure to leave bruises, but he didn’t force you down, didn’t rush, just let you feel it, let you savor the way he filled you completely.

"Goddamn," he gritted out, voice strained, body trembling with restraint, "takin’ me so well, baby. Fuck, just like that."

You whimpered, nails dragging across his shoulders, needing something to hold onto as your body stretched around him. He felt impossibly deep, hitting that spot inside you that only he knew, that made your whole body tense, made your breath catch, made your mind blank as you sank down, down, down, until your ass pressed into his thighs.

Joel let you have a moment to adjust, chest heaving, his hands dragging up your sides, fingertips trailing over the swell of your breasts before sliding back down to grip your hips, strong, steady, grounding. And then, just when you thought you could start moving, he gripped you tighter and thrust up into you, sharp and deep.

Your gasp broke into a moan, your head tilting back as the sensation sent heat flooding through your core. His grip tightened, his pace rough and demanding as he fucked up into you, his hips meeting yours in quick, brutal strokes, forcing you to take every inch of him.

"That what you needed?" he grunted, his voice a low growl, his hands guiding you now, forcing you to ride him, making you take it.

Your whole body was burning, desperate, aching as you rocked against him, every stroke pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His teeth dragged along your throat, lips and tongue soothing the marks he left behind, hands sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples as he groaned into your skin.

"Love watchin’ you like this," he murmured, voice wrecked, his breath hot against your neck, "been dreamin’ of this–you bouncin’ on my cock, lettin’ me ruin you. Such a good girl for me, huh?"

“Yes, Joel, yes–”

You clenched around him, your body tightening in response, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach.

"Fuck, baby, you gonna come for me? Already?”

No. Not yet. Not yet, because this moment was too much, too big, and you wanted to feel every second of it. But he needed to know. He needed to.

He slowed down so his thumb could press against your clit, slow, teasing, deliberate, and your whole body jerked, oversensitive, and barely holding on.

“Joel,” you whispered.

"Yeah?" His voice was a low rasp, breathless, wrecked as his half hooded eyes gazed up at you.

Your hands slid up to his neck, playing with the nape of his hair as you tried to find the words.

"I—" you swallowed hard, heart hammering as you tried to catch your breath. "I took a test this morning."

Joel stilled. The gentle teasing of his thumb stopped. His hips halted.

Everything stopped.

He blinked up at you, lips slightly parted, completely still beneath you. "What?"

“I’m pregnant,” you said, biting your lip as you gauged his reaction.

His hands spread wide across your waist, fingers pressing tight, thumbs tracing slow, reverent circles. Then, lowering, splaying over your stomach.

"Carryin’ my baby in there, huh?"

Your heart skipped.

"Joel…"

But suddenly, you weren’t in control anymore. You’re not sure you ever were to begin with. 

His arms wrapped around your waist, locking you in, holding you so tight against his chest that there was nowhere to go, no space between you at all. His muscles flexed, his grip firm, and then he drove up into you, his cock punching so deep you felt the thick, unrelenting stretch of him in your stomach.

You gasped, body jerking against him, the sudden force of it making your breath catch as pleasure cracked through you like a whip.

"Fuck," he groaned, the sound raw, guttural, his head tipping back for a split second before he resumed his hungry kisses to your flesh.

He thrust up hard, sharp, thick heat dragging along your walls, stretching you open, making you take every inch. The press of him was almost unbearable, every push hitting that spot inside you that made your whole body tremble and your moans break apart into sharp, breathless whimpers.  

"You’re carrying my baby." he groaned into your skin.

"Joel!" you screeched, head tilting back, body arching, your nails digging into his shoulders as his mouth found your throat, biting, sucking, marking. His cock dragged through your slick, gliding easy but so thick, so deep, pressing right up against that sweet spot over and over again.

But still—you hadn’t said it.

And Joel knew it.

He slowed, hips dragging deep, deliberate, making you feel all of him, every thick inch stretching you open.

"You can say whatever you want," he murmured, voice low, rough, thick with something dark and heavy. His hands slid up your back, pulled you closer, his lips brushing over your ear.

"But who's been fillin’ you up every month, huh?"

He rolled his hips up slow, so deep, and you whimpered, clenching down around him.

"Who’s been fuckin’ you until you see stars? Who’s made you come on his cock over and over again, baby?"

His voice turned gravelly, filthy, absolute sin.

"Sure as hell ain’t my baby brother."

Your whole body trembled, on edge, breaking apart, so close to coming, but he wouldn’t give you what you needed.

"Say it," Joel demanded, his grip tightening around you,

Your lips parted, a whimper slipping out, but nothing came.

He growled, snapping his hips hard, making you cry out.

"Say whose baby this is."

You were right there, right on the edge, pleasure coiled so tight you could barely breathe.

"Say it, and I’ll let you come on my cock again."

Your whole body shook, thighs trembling, head tilting back as the words finally tore from your lips.

"It’s yours, Joel," you gasped, the words breaking, desperate, ruined. "It’s yours—fuck—"

His breath hitched, sharp, ragged, completely wrecked.

"That’s right."

He pulled you against him just right so you were grinding into him, your clit catching on the patch of curly dark hair at the base of his cock where your hips met. The moan that left your throat was downright obscene as you felt the pleasure shock through you. 

His hands moved to grip your hips so tight it was bruising, his mouth crushing against yours, teeth dragging over your bottom lip, his pace wild, desperate, unstoppable as he dragged you against him again and again. 

"You’re mine," he groaned, voice breaking, fucking into you with everything he had, filling you over and over, relentless. "My baby. My girl. My fuckin’ perfect girl, carryin’ my baby."

"Joel!" you screamed, your whole body locking up, pleasure ripping through you like fire, waves of heat curling, crashing, drowning you.

"That’s it," he rasped, feeling you tighten around him, feeling you break for him as your clit kept rubbing perfectly against his pelvis, sending shockwaves through you as he held you through your climax. "That’s it, my good girl, gonna fill you up again, baby, gonna take it? Gonna take my come again?"

“Yes, Joel, yes, yes, yes,” you blubbered, clinging to him.  

And then, with a rough, broken groan, Joel buried himself deep, pressing flush, full, spilling inside you, filling you completely. 

Your whole body continued to tremble as you both caught your breath. Your thighs were shaking, limbs weak and boneless as you sprawled over him, completely spent, completely ruined. Your heartbeat was thunderous, hammering in your ears, every nerve ending still shivering from the aftershocks.

His hands were still gripping your hips, tight, possessive, unmoving, holding you flush to him, keeping you there with him. His head was tipped back against the couch, chest rising and falling fast, lips parted as he caught his breath, his skin hot and damp beneath your palms.

Slowly, reality began creeping back in.

Your fingers traced mindlessly over his broad shoulders, the damp curls at the nape of his neck, still coming down, still floating in the hazy, fucked-out warmth of it all.

Joel’s grip softened, his hands sliding up your back, slow, lazy strokes over sweat-slick skin. His breath was still uneven when he finally muttered, voice wrecked and hoarse, “Christ…made me lose my damn mind there for a minute.”

You huffed a quiet laugh against his shoulder, still not ready to move, still too high from everything. But you lifted yourself up just slightly so your forehead pressed to his, nudging your nose against his, his lips grazing, teasing, kissing you slow and deep.

And then you looked up as movement caught the corner of your eye.

And froze.

Everything in you turned to ice.

Because standing in the doorway, staring at the two of you, was Tommy.

tag list: @alidiggory92 @pinkylouise @izzy698 @doblasftcisco @devotedlypaleluminary @elsplayground @puduvallee @victoriaholland @legoemma

[stellamarielu]

Hello! Happy st Patrick's Day!🍀 I'm popping into your inbox with a very important question, which is: how would Philip Lombard react to you teasing him at a fancy event? 😱 also also also: I just wanna say that I really love your writing!!😍😍 (listen, I know Philip is a mercenary but I like to think he gets invited to fancy events😱 I mean just look at him😩😩)

alrighttt we're finally writing about philip lombard in this bitch. I've wanted to write something for him for the longest time because he literally oozes sex appeal, but you guys know how I feel about writing for characters from british period dramas lmao. let's just have fun and ignore any of my historical inaccuracies yeah?

here's a little drabble about jealous and possessive philip for all 10 of you who are just as obsessed with that man as i am

You sat sipping the drink that had been in your hand for almost an hour now, pretending to listen to the young man next to you as he droned on about a topic you weren't particularly interested in. He was handsome, the suit adorning his body evidence of the large fortune to his name. He was just like all the other socialites attending tonight's event, dull and monotonous.

Twirling your glass in your hand you let your eyes wander to each corner of the room until they found something worth staring at— Philip Lombard.

He was engaged in small talk, his charming smile and intense stare on display. Even from across the room he seemed to feel your eyes on him, as his gaze caught yours and then quickly darted to the seat next to you. His brows furrowed gently in curiosity the rest of his expression remaining unchanged.

Your relationship with Philip was complicated, although, it didn't have to be.

You found yourself in his bed more often than you'd like to admit. Each time he'd end the night with a kiss to your temple before rolling over, turning his back to you, an ever-present reminder of his refusal to commitment. His inability to be vulnerable and settle down into any sort of romantic relationship bothered you to no end, yet you kept him around. It was easier that way— the two of you seeking affection and attention when you needed it, but never anything more.

So now, seeing the way his jaw set in irritation as he watched another man talk to you at the bar, was somewhat amusing. You looked away, but his eyes stayed locked in your direction as you leaned in closer to the young gentleman at your side, smiling and nodding at whatever irrelevant words were coming out of his mouth.

You fought not to look back at the Philip on the other side of the room, wanting so badly to see the look on his face as you unassumingly flirted with the random man who was now very involved in the conversation, his hand coming to rest on your knee as he spoke.

Not even ten minutes later you found yourself in the bathroom backed against a wall, The weight of Philip's body keeping you in place.

"I don't want to see you looking at anyone like that again. Got it?" His words were threatening but his voice was low— a soft yet stern rasp as he held your jaw carefully in his hand, pulling your gaze up to meet his.

Philip was always gentle with you, calm and loving— tender. You’d seen him angry, heard him raise his voice with others; but never with you. Hearing his tone darken and watching his eyes narrow on you had a familiar ache pulling low in your abdomen.

"I can do whatever I want Philip, I don't belong to you."

You were in no place to challenge him, but the power he held over you was infuriating. The audacity he had to pull you into a room and reprimand you for flirting with someone when he was the one constantly refusing exclusivity.

"Oh, but don't you?" He was smiling somewhat deviously with his body pressed against yours.

"You're always wanting me to claim you— begging to be mine."

His head dipped down, lips brushing against the exposed skin at the crook of your neck.

"You are mine.”

With one hand still on your face the other came to hold low on your waist, his strength pushing your further against the wall.

"All mine." His voice was muffled as he placed an attentive kiss on your shoulder.

“Always have been.”

He pulled his head back just enough to look at you, surveying the way you melted into his touch, your eyelids heavy and your gaze full of reverence and adoration. His lips pulled into a curve of satisfaction at having you hanging onto his every word, preening under his touch.

“And if I see another man so much as look at you,”

His eyes deliberately raked over your body, his hand that was resting on your hip was now drawing lightly up your torso.

“It won’t end well for him.” With his brows slightly lifted, Philip let both of his hands cup your face as he placed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“So if I were you, I’d tell that new friend a’yours to keep his hands to himself.”

Before you could reply, His touch left you completely. The warmth of his body was no longer pressed against yours as he left you stunned in silence, offering you a smug look of consolation as he slid through the doorway.

[cherrysnax]

oi actually one last thing and then u can whack me with sticks… whenever I don’t know what to draw, I usually just doodle random faces but more often than not they look like my girlfriend :’D

[nilla03]

𝑩𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚 ✰

𝑃𝑙𝑜𝑡：𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑏

𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠： 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖，𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔，𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑐𝑟𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦

Nanami wasn't thrilled about you going out, but he let you go. You had pouted, kissed his jaw, and assured him you'd be safe, promising to text him throughout the night. He trusted you-of course, he did-but that didn't mean he liked the idea of you in some dark, crowded club, surrounded by drunk men who wouldn't know how to keep their hands to themselves.

Still, he kissed your forehead before you left, his large hands squeezing your waist as he muttered, "Be good."

You had every intention of listening. Really, you did.

But a few drinks in, and things started getting a little hazy.

You were laughing with your friends, dancing under the dim neon lights, feeling warm and weightless as the alcohol pulsed through your veins. You had been texting Nanami like you promised-little updates here and there-but at some point, your replies got lazy, a few too many typos slipping in, and then... nothing.

That's when he decides to come get you.

By the time Nanami arrived, you were at the bar, giggling at something your friend said, a drink in your hand that you were already too tipsy to finish. He spotted you instantly-your pretty outfit, your glossy lips, the way your jewelry caught the low lights. You looked like a doll, and you were practically glowing, but the moment his sharp eyes landed on you, all he felt was irritation.

Of course, you had gotten carried away.

You didn't even notice him at first, too busy swaying to the music, but the second a warm, familiar hand touched the small of your back, you gasped. You turned, blinking up at him with wide, glassy eyes, a smile spreading across your face.

"Kento!" you chirped, stumbling a little as you reached for him. "You came!"

Nanami exhaled through his nose, steadying you with one firm hand. "Of course I did," he said, his voice even. "You stopped answering your phone."

"I did?" You frowned, pulling out your phone and squinting at the screen like the little device had betrayed you. "Oops..."

Nanami only shook his head. "We're going home."

You pouted, clinging to his arm. "But I was having fun."

"I can see that," he murmured, his eyes flicking down to the way your dress had ridden up from all your dancing. His jaw clenched.

"Come on, sweetheart. We're leaving."

The ride home was quiet.

You sat in the passenger seat, still tipsy, playing with the hem of your dress, stealing little glances at Nanami He was gripping the wheel tightly, his jaws is expression unreadable.

You knew that look.

He wasn't angry-not really-but he wasn't happy either.

When you pulled into the driveway and he helped you out of the car, his hands steady on your waist, you leaned into him with a dramatic sigh.

"Kento," you whined, tilting your head up to look at him. "Are you mad at me?"

His golden-brown eyes flickered down to you, his fingers tightening slightly around your waist. "No," he said, calm as ever.

You let out another little whimper, pressing against his chest. "I just wanted to have fun," you mumbled. "Now l wanna feel good..."

You curled your fingers into his shirt, tilting your face up for a kiss, but he only exhaled sharply through his nose.

"No."

Your brows furrowed, and you let out a small, needy sound as he pulled you inside, guiding you toward the bedroom.

You thought he was going to give in, but instead, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled you onto his lap-his thigh, to be exact.

You blinked, confused for a moment. "Kento?"

"If you're so desperate," he murmured, his hands resting heavily on your waist, "you can help yourself."

Your face burned as you realized what he meant. Your thighs squeezed together on instinct, your hands resting on his broad shoulders,

"That's mean," you whispered, trying to shift in his lap, but his grip tightened.

"You were being a brat tonight," he said, his voice low and unwavering.

Your breath hitched.

He was warm beneath you, his thigh firm and unyielding as he kept you still. You squirmed, just a little, testing him, but his fingers dug into your waist, keeping you in place.

"Go on," he murmured, voice deep and smooth. "Show me how bad you want it."

Your lips parted slightly, embarrassment and arousal mixing in your chest, but you listened.

You shifted against his thigh, feeling the friction immediately, and let out a soft, desperate little whimper.

Nanami exhaled through his nose, watching you with sharp, dark eyes.

You whined again, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, but you didn't stop moving. His thigh was so firm beneath you.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, your breaths coming out in short, needy little gasps.

Nanami hummed, pressing a slow kiss to your temple.

Your body was trembling-hot, desperate, on the edge-but Nanami still wouldn't budge.

His hands stayed firm on your hips, guiding you over his thigh, keeping the movements slow, controlled, not enough.

You were falling apart, your whimpers turning into soft little sobs as you rocked against the hard muscle, your slick staining his slacks, making a mess of him-but he didn't seem to care.

"You're crying again," he murmured, voice smooth, unaffected. His eyes moved down to where your hips stuttered against his leg. "Pathetic."

You were pathetic, and you didn't care.

You sniffled, rubbing your teary cheek against his chest, trying again to grind harder, to chase the relief you needed, but his grip tightened, forcing you back into that slow, agonizing pace.

"K-Kento," you gasped, nails digging into his arms.

"Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "You can finish, sweetheart-but only if you do it my way."

You let out a broken little whimper, nodding frantically, your body twitching against him. "I-I will," you hiccupped, pressing your face against his shoulder. "Please, I-I c-can't-"

Nanami hummed, finally letting you move again-but not how you wanted.

He controlled it-pressing your hips down harder against his thigh, making you grind exactly how he wanted, dragging you over the fabric just right, making the friction sharper, deeper, more.

You sobbed, your fingers curling into his shirt, your thighs squeezing around him as the pleasure hit, sharp and overwhelming, making your whole body tremble as you came with a choked little gasp.

Nanami exhaled slowly, watching you shake in his lap, his grip loosening just slightly, smoothing over your soft, overheated skin.

"There you go," he murmured, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "That's my girl."

You hiccupped, still trembling, still trying to catch your breath as he rubbed slow circles into your back, grounding you, keeping you close.

"Messy little thing," he sighed, his voice softer now, amused.

You sniffled, pressing a weak little kiss to his jaw, blinking up at him with glossy, exhausted eyes.

"Still mean," you mumbled, breathless.

Nanami sighed, brushing your hair back from your sticky, flushed skin. "You're exhausting."

But he was soft with you now, gentle-pulling you close, letting you curl against him, keeping his big hands warm and steady on your body, even though you'd ruined his pants, even though you'd whined and begged like a spoiled little brat.

[incognit0slut]

Stress Relief

You convince your husband to take out his anger on you when he comes home very tense.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) dom!spencer, sub!reader, oral (f), reader in handcuffs so light bondage?, choking, unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare and domestic bliss because he’s still our beloved spencer

Words: 5k for 5k milestone celebration! TYSM ILY💘💘

A/n: I combined two requests asking for him to get all angry/frustrated because an unsub had a particular thing for winding him up (from anon 1) so he needs some kind of smutty release (from anon 2). You know who you are.

You could tell something was off. 

A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach as the front door creaked open, and instead of the usual lively greeting from your husband, you were met with silence. It was as though he was physically there and yet you could sense his absence in the air. 

"Spence?" You called out, stepping out of the kitchen. When there was no response, you tried again. "Baby, are you okay?"

Your feet guided you down the hallway where you found him standing by the door with his back facing you. Even from behind, you could sense the foul mood he was in. His shoulders seemed more tense than usual, his hair slightly disheveled, and there was an edge to his movements as he closed the door with a loud thud.

"Babe?"

His response was brief, his gaze flickering towards you before quickly darting away, almost as if he were intentionally avoiding your eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey?" you echoed. "That's all I'm getting?"

When his eyes met yours again, you could practically feel the tension radiating from him. It was clear that he was angry, his usual calm demeanor seemed to be replaced by a subtle but palpable edge. There was a tightness in his jaw, a clenched fist by his side, and his usually warm gaze now held a hint of sharpness.

Only one thought crossed your mind whenever he came home like this.

"Bad day at work?"

He slowly nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head.

"Do you want a hug?"

He hesitated momentarily, his brows furrowing slightly as if debating whether to accept your offer. Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. Your hand instinctively found its way to his hair, fingers gently running through the soft strands.

"Oh, honey, you're so tense," you noted as your other hand trailed along his shoulder. "Is there anything I can help with? A massage? A nice warm bath maybe?"

You felt him shake his head against you, but you persisted, wanting to offer him comfort in any way you could. When your hand smoothed down his back, his hold on you tightened. When your fingers brushed the nape of his neck, you felt his warm breath caress your skin.

Then it happened—soft lips brushed against the spot under your ear, tentative at first, before growing more urgent. It wasn't the tender, affectionate kisses you were used to, but a different kind of intimacy that felt almost desperate. His lips nibbled and sucked gently at your skin and it became clear to you what he wanted.

"You want another kind of release, baby? Is that what you want?"

His lips momentarily paused against your neck, his arms loosening their grip around you before he rested his hands on your hips. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" 

"Because—” he stopped, his grip on your body tightening. “Because I don't feel like myself right now."

You grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him away just enough to see his face. "What makes you say that?"

Spencer held your gaze. How could he explain to you that he was on the verge of acting out his frustration? That he was so close to losing control? 

He knew how difficult he could be when anger took hold of him. In his younger days, he wouldn't hesitate to fire off sassy remarks and snarky comments, letting his emotions dictate his behavior. However, as he matured, he learned better to hide those emotions behind a composed facade.

But tonight felt different. Despite his best attempts to maintain his control, he could feel his anger slipping away, and it was unfair to burden you with it. Especially when you were offering yourself to him, so sweet and so pretty, when he knew love wasn't exactly what he could offer you right now. 

So he decided to release you, his grip loosening as he stepped back.

"Forget it," he muttered under his breath before turning towards your shared bedroom. Your brow furrowed as he walked away, leaving you standing there with your mouth slightly agape, bewildered by his sudden withdrawal.

"Spencer Reid," you called after him, your voice laced with a hint of irritation as you followed him. "I wasn't done talking to you."

He paused, his hand halfway to his tie before he loosened it with a sharp tug. You leaned against the bedroom doorway, crossing your arms as you continued to study him. His lack of response only fueled your growing annoyance, but you knew better than to escalate the situation into a fight.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you spoke up, your voice steady but tinged with frustration. "Honey, I can't help you if you're acting this way."

"What makes you think I need help?"

"The way you're wrestling with your tie gives it away," you replied, your words laced with a hint of sarcasm.

He shot you a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by your remark. "I don't need your help."

Your frown deepened. "Seriously? You're just going to shut me out like this?"

"I'm not shutting you out," he countered, moving around the room. "I just need some space."

"Well you're doing a pretty damn good job of it," you shot back, your patience wearing thin as you pushed yourself off the doorway. His jaw clenched, but he remained silent, his actions focused on undoing the button on his wrist now. You scoffed at his lack of response again.

"Oh, so now you're giving me the silent treatment?" When it seemed evident he was trying to ignore you, you pressed on. "Fine, keep your silence, let me do the talking."

His eyes flickered momentarily at you before he turned around, undoing the button of his shirt. You watched him quietly as he continued to avoid your gaze. 

"Spencer," you began, your voice softer now. "I know your job can be hard, and I know you're going through a lot right now, but shutting me out won't make it any easier."

“I've already told you, I'm not trying to shut you out."

"Then what are you doing?" you pressed. "I tried offering you help when you didn't want to talk about it. And the one thing I can help you with, the one thing I'm sure will help you relax, you refused." 

You let out a frustrated sigh, hating how much your voice wavered now.

"Spence... you—you didn't even want to have sex with me."

His shoulders stiffened at your words, finally turning to face you. "You think I don't want to have sex with you?"

You swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in your throat. "I don't know what to think anymore," you admitted. "You're giving me the cold shoulder, it’s hard not to take it personally."

The room seemed to close in around you, suffocating in its silence. Then, you watched as he began to walk towards you. One step. Two steps. Until his presence loomed over you, casting a shadow that suddenly made you feel small and vulnerable.

"I'm refusing to have sex with you right now not because I don't want to," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I'm refusing because I'm trying to protect you."

You frowned, confusion furrowing your brow. "Protect me from what?"

There was a moment of silence before he replied, “From myself."

You felt a knot tightening in your stomach, goosebumps forming on your skin as you struggled to comprehend what he was trying to say.

“I… I don't understand."

"I don't want to risk it. I'm afraid that if we... if we cross that line, I might hurt you."

"Spencer," you whispered in disbelief, as if his words were the most absurd thing you'd ever heard. "You would never hurt me."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't be so sure if you knew half of the thought in my head right now."

You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his words. Then your gaze involuntarily flickered down his body, tracing the lines of his open shirt and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze moved lower, taking in the way his pants hung low on his hips, and the trail of soft hair leading downwards.

You swallowed hard.

"Tell me then," you challenged, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze again. "Tell me how you'd hurt me."

He studied you, assessing, calculating. "You won't like it," he warned.

"And what if I do?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of surprise flashing across his features. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"I know what I want."

He regarded you for a long moment, weighing your words carefully. Finally, he stepped closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "You really want to know what I'd like to do to you?"

You held his gaze. "Yes," you replied. "Tell me."

His lips curved into a faint, almost rueful smile. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached out and traced a finger along the curve of your jaw. "I want to use you," he murmured. "I want to feel you, to taste you. I want to make you scream."

You could feel the heat traveling through your body, a heady mixture of desire and anticipation flooding your senses. You reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed against his chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.

"I want to control you," he continued, his gaze darkening. "I want to tie you up leave you bruises, mark your skin. I want you helpless, begging for mercy."

He tilted your chin up, his eyes locking with yours.

"I want to see how far you'll go for me."

Your breath caught in your throat as you drank in his words, and you couldn't deny the heat spreading between your legs. "And what if I want that too?"

A tense silence settled between you. Then slowly, almost as if testing the waters, he wrapped his fingers around your throat, simply holding you there. "You don't mean that."

"Try me," you dared, holding his gaze. "Put your hand between my thighs and see just how much I mean it."

His grip around your throat tightened ever so slightly while his other hand hovered at the waistband of your cotton pants. You felt a jolt of anticipation as he slipped his hand inside, your breath hitching as the pad of his calloused fingers dipped inside your panties.

A soft hum of approval escaped his lips when the slickness of your arousal coated his skin.

"Would you look at that? Barely even touched you and you're already this wet?" A low gasp fell between your lips as he found your clit. "You really want this, don't you?"

You could only manage a whimper in response, your breath coming in ragged gasps. 

"Tell me," he insisted, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. "No," you finally managed to gasp.

With deliberate slowness, he trailed his fingertips lower, teasingly circling your entrance. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out.

“You dirty girl,” he muttered, and you feel yourself getting wetter as his finger continued to touch you teasingly. Then slowly, the grip on your throat loosened before his hand moved to cup your cheek.

“I need you to be sure," he whispered, "Because once we cross that line, there's no going back."

Your eyelids dropped lower as you chewed on your bottom lip, feeling the weight of his desire hanging in the air. It was a heady mix of uncertainty and anticipation, but one thing was clear—you wanted him.

You wanted him to use your body.

“Use me however you like,” you confessed. "I-I’m all yours.”

His lips were on yours in an instant. There was no mercy in his kiss, only raw desire and urgency. He kissed you as if he needed to breathe in your air, his lips moving desperately against yours, his tongue seeking entrance to taste you.

His hand then left your pants to cradle your face, holding you gently yet firmly as he explored every inch of your mouth, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Finally, he pulled away, his chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath. 

He looked down at you, his gaze intense, and saw the dazed expression in your eyes. Your touch, taste, and scent clouded his vision as you trembled in his arms, the soft sounds of your labored breath sang in his ears.

Mine, mine, mine.

"Now listen to me," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I'm going to leave you for a while, and when I come back, I expect to see you lying on the bed naked with your legs spread apart."

You swallowed hard, eyes slightly going wide. You felt his hand gripping your jaw.

"Do I make myself clear?"

You quickly nodded. "Y-Yes."

His grip tightened momentarily before he released you, his gaze piercing as he held your eyes for a moment longer. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room. 

With trembling hands, you began to undress, each piece of clothing dropping to the floor until you stood bare before the bed. The cool air prickled against your skin as you slowly climbed onto the bed.

You brought your feet onto the bed before spreading your knees apart. It felt weird, you had never felt so exposed and vulnerable, yet you couldn't deny the arousal pooling between your thighs. And then you heard him, his footsteps gradually coming closer and your heart pounded in your chest as you gripped onto the bed sheets.

His tall frame filled the doorway as he took in the sight before him, his eyes lingering between your legs. He watched your chest rise and fall, watched the way your legs fell apart even more as if you were offering yourself to him. Without a word, he approached the bed and stripped off his shirt. 

Before you could catch your breath, he stood over the bed beside you. "Put your arms above your head."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of his gaze, but then slowly, almost instinctively, you complied, raising your arms above your head as instructed. You watched as he reached behind his back, and your heart raced as you glimpsed the glint of metal in his hand.

He didn't say a word as he reached for your wrists, securing them above your head with the cold metal of the handcuff, restraining you to the bed. The click of the cuffs echoed in the room before he stepped back, his eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam as if he was admiring his handiwork.

Your pulse quickened as you lay there, exposed and at his mercy and you couldn't help but squirm under his gaze. He moved closer, his fingers trailing lightly along your skin, and you shivered, both from the chill of the metal and the warmth of his touch.

"You look so pretty like this," he murmured. "So helpless, yet so willing."

Your eyes followed his movement as his fingers moved to unbutton his pants. Then he was completely naked, and even though you had seen him like this countless times, the sight of his cock never failed to make your cunt clench in anticipation. He was thick and hard, with veins pulsing along its length and droplets of wetness glistening at the tip.

The bed sank under his weight as he positioned himself between your legs. You gasped when he leaned forward, the underside of his cock teasingly brushing against your wet folds as his lips met your collarbone. You bit down on your bottom lip as he kissed lower, stopping at your left breast, where he suckled on the supple skin just above your nipple.

His mouth latched onto your skin after taking a moment to try and keep himself from rushing into things. But he was a simple man. His lips worked precisely and diligently, and you watched as he left marks on your breasts, his teeth gently sinking into your flesh here and there, his warm saliva coating the faint markings.

The kisses left on your sensitive skin resulted in you whining for more. Spencer felt a rush of satisfaction like no other, his touches growing more urgent with each sound that escaped your lips. His tongue glided over your plump breasts, teasing and tantalizing, until finally, his mouth enveloped your nipple.

You squealed, squirming underneath him, and he smiled against your skin, his lips forming a knowing smirk as he continued to suck while his thumb flicked the nipple he wasn't focusing on. There was no doubt you would be left with bruises tomorrow morning.

Your eyes drifted downward just as he looked up, his gaze meeting yours, and you couldn't help but whine when the tip of his tongue circled your nipple teasingly. You reached out, craving the sensation of your fingers in his hair, only to feel the metal of the handcuffs digging into your skin.

"It's torture, isn't it? Not being able to do anything," he taunted with a laugh, shifting his attention to your other nipple. "But I guess that's the fun part.”

You whimpered as he softly bit your sensitive bud, and your back arched off the bed in response. He leaned back, admiring the marks he'd left on your skin.

"God, look at you," he murmured as his gaze lingered on your flushed skin, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each breath. "I could do this all night."

Slowly, he lowered himself back down, his lips tracing a path from your chest down to your stomach. You squirmed, anticipation coiling tightly in your belly as his warm breath ghosted lower. His hair tickled your legs, and he took the opportunity to turn his head slightly to the side, immediately pressing a hot open-mouthed kiss against your inner thigh. 

You gasped as he sucked your skin into his mouth, teeth grazing over the flesh as if he was intent on marking every inch of your body. His lips continued to trail along your thighs but never quite reaching the place you craved him the most.

For someone with pent-up emotions, his movements were agonizingly slow. It was frustrating, the way he toyed with you, drawing out the anticipation until you couldn't bear it any longer.

"Please," you whimpered, the chains rattling softly against the headboard as you continued to squirm beneath him.

He paused, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he looked up at you. "Please what?" 

"Pl-Please touch me."

He kissed over your mound as he hooked an arm under your leg. His other hand reached for the heat radiating between your thighs before two of his fingers brushed along your outer lips, dragging your arousal along your skin. "Like this?"

You groaned as he kept on teasing you, stroking you with featherlight touches. “More," you pleaded desperately, almost pathetically. "Please."

His fingers stretched your folds, his gaze fixed on the glistening wetness, on the way your cunt clenched around nothing. "You're so pretty, you know that?"

"Spence..." you breathed out, feeling his breath achingly close to your heat.

He didn't respond with words. Instead, he lowered his head, his breath hot against your flesh. The minute his tongue touched you, you were already a writhing, whimpering mess. Your head began spinning, nerves and pleasure swooping into one big fuzzy mess in your mind as his tongue teased up and down your slit. 

"Oh my god," you whined the moment his mouth circled your clit before sucking on it, sending waves of pleasure along your body. And then, just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, you felt his finger at your entrance, and without warning, he pushed in his digit, sending your head tilting back with a desperate gasp falling from your lips.

His groan reverberated against your skin as your walls clenched around him. He pushed his finger deeper, curling it inside of you as his tongue lapped at your dripping folds. With each movement, he pressed his face even further into you, relishing the sensation of your wetness coating his jaw.

Your eyes drifted downwards at the same time he looked up, locking gazes with him, and you let out the most filthy cry of pleasure. He held your gaze as his tongue quickened its pace, sucking your clit even harder as he added another finger inside you. 

Your mouth gaped open as you felt the delicious stretch, and you couldn't help but buck your hips towards his face. Spencer always had a fixation on pleasuring you, but not like this—it was never like this. He seemed desperate, almost possessive, as if he couldn't get enough of your taste.

He continued his relentless assault, his fingers pumping inside you with a steady rhythm while his tongue worked tirelessly on your swollen clit. The squelching sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of your dripping walla was so lewd that it made his cock stir against the bed.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, the heat spreading like wildfire through your veins. Before you knew it, your climax hit you hard, without warning, without mercy, and you were gasping his name over and over.

You shivered and trembled beneath him, tossing your head back even farther, squeezing your walls around his fingers and your legs around his head.  But he didn't stop or even slow down. Instead, he pulled his fingers out of you, only to push your thighs apart even when your legs were shaking uncontrollably.

"Stop moving," he ordered as he leaned in, tasting you all over again. He didn't care that you were a complete mess, that you were still reeling in from your climax, that you were trying to move back away from him. All he cared about was giving you the best pleasure imaginable, and he was intent on seeing it through.

"Spence—” you gasped when his nose brushed your clit. “I-I can't—"

He gently held your fragile body in place to prevent you from running away from his mouth. "Hold still and give me another one." 

How could you not relent when he treated you like this, so considerate yet so rough? You groaned, your eyes meeting the ceiling as you felt his mouth continue its relentless assault on your cunt. The sensation was overwhelming, yet despite your protests, you couldn't deny the building pressure.

Your muscles tensed. Your breathing hitched. You gasped for air. And just as the waves of pleasure threatened to consume you once more, you surrendered, letting out a pathetic cry as your body convulsed with the force of your climax.

His tongue lingered over your sensitive skin, savoring the taste of your release, before he finally withdrew, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. He then lifted his head, your juices glistening on his lips as he watched your heaving chest.

Spencer had never been so thankful for his eidetic memory. He took in the sight of your hands, bound above your head, the rise and fall of your chest as you panted, the tousled strands of hair framing your face. His gaze lingered on the way your legs willingly parted for him, your skin flushed and pussy swollen, all because of him.

It was a sight he wanted to etch into his memory forever.

You bit your bottom lip as his gaze lingered on you, feeling your body flush under his scrutiny. Then, as if something within him shifted, he reached for you, urging your body to turn until you were facing sideways, the chains rattling softly as you moved.

He settled behind you, and your heart quickened as you felt him grab your leg, lifting it in the air. With one hand gripping your thigh firmly, he positioned himself between your legs, his hard cock pressing against your slick folds. 

You could feel the warmth of his body pressed against your back, his breath ghosting over your neck as he leaned in closer. With a deep, guttural moan, he eased himself into you, every inch of him sliding effortlessly into your wetness. You couldn't help but arch your back in response to the sensation of being filled so completely.

"Fuck," he murmured, the curse slipping past his lips in a breathy whisper. It sounded foreign coming from him and yet it only encouraged you more. You pushed your hips back into him, meeting his slow, deliberate thrusts.

"Needed this so much," he confessed, his breath coming out in ragged pants against the nape of your neck. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you like this for so long."

Your head fell back onto his chest, completely enveloped in him—the scent of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the rhythmic movement of his cock thrusting inside you.

"Thought it was wrong of me to take control of you," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. "But you're enjoying this as much, aren't you?"

You whimpered, unable to form words as the pleasure consumed you and you felt him picking up his pace. The room was filled with lewd noises of your wetness along with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"You like being helpless like this? You like it when I fuck you while being cuffed to the bed?"

Your breath hitched at his words. His hand left your thigh, but only momentarily. The crack of sound pierced the air, followed by a surge of sensation coursing up your leg. The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning—he spanked you. 

And you liked it.

"Answer. Me," he demanded, each word punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Yes," you managed to gasp out. "I-I love being helpless."

He let out a sound of pleasure as he released your thigh, only to tease your clit with his fingers. You gasped, your head thrown back as he applied just the right amount of pressure, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You felt the intensity building, the familiar coil tightening in your stomach as he continued to pump into you, his fingers moving fast against your clit.

You tried to speak and warn him about your upcoming orgasm but you couldn't even think properly. The squelch of his cock driving into you roughly rang in your ears and with a sharp inhale, you felt the tension within you reach its peak. Your muscles tensed, your breath caught in your throat, and then, with an explosive release, you cried out his name.

He groaned as he felt you pulsating around him, your walls gripping him tightly. He continued to move within you, riding out your orgasm as his thrusts grew harder, more urgent until he couldn't hold back any longer.

"I need to see you," he breathed as he pulled out of you. Then he flipped you onto your back, guiding one of your legs over his shoulder as he settled between your thighs once more. The change in position brought you closer, the heat of your bodies mingling as you met his gaze.

Without a word, he pushed himself back into you, the slick heat of your cunt enveloping him. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, feeling your body growing sticky, every inch of you glistening with sweat, but his gaze remained fixated on you, unwavering and intense.

"So pretty," he murmured, his hand finding your face and cupping your cheek, absorbing your features in the dim lighting of the room. "My beautiful wife."

You whimpered as he dragged his hand down your skin, thumb brushing over your lips as he felt your hot breath on his fingertip. He watched your eyes switch between widening and fluttering half shut while he began pumping into you.

Spencer couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you took his cock eagerly, your breasts bouncing each time he thrust forward, your mouth hanging open with your tongue slipping out of your mouth. A whine followed through as his hand moved down to your neck, practically holding you in place as his hips collided against your own.

He gave a slight pressure around your throat, and your head began to loll against the mattress, chin pointed in the air in pleasure. The squeezing sensation was now beginning to take over your body, spreading from across your cheeks, to your ears, and up to your eyes, tears pooling right at the corner. The feeling even reached your stomach, tightening and coiling with the signal of your impending orgasm.

Was this your fourth orgasm? Your fifth? You couldn't keep track; all you knew was the overwhelming sensation prickling your skin. The bed below you felt as if it was on fire. The metal digging around your wrist burned with absolute pleasure.

His thrusts grew more intense, each movement raw and unrestrained, as if he was pouring all his pent-up emotions into you. He seemed to lose himself in the moment, his grip on your neck firm but not painful, but it was enough to make you gasp, your body trembling with pleasure, eyes rolling at the back of your head.

You were instantly gone.

A filthy cry fell between your lips as another orgasm crashed over you, more intense than the last. At some point you were gasping for air, feeling your body going limp but he didn’t stop. His hips had a mind of their own. You could feel them beginning to move like they were possessed, with no regard for your pleasure, and in a way, no regard for his. 

“Oh god—fuck!” You cried, arching your back as much in this position.

He groaned and leaned in, his arms pressing against the bed on either side of you as he pushed your leg up to your shoulder. He tried to kiss you, but the force of his movements made it hard. Instead, his lips hovered just above yours, both of you breathing heavily and moaning into each other's mouths.

Eyelids drooped a bit too low as your mouth went completely ajar, exhaling weakly. It didn’t take long for another wave of pleasure to rush through your body. You convulsed beneath him, thighs quivering violently as you tried to angle your body away from him, the pleasure almost unbearable now.

Through the haze of your orgasm, you caught a glimpse of him throwing back his head with his eyes screwed shut. Then he finally groaned—his movements slowing, breath sputtering from his lungs as he exploded, pumping once, twice, three times all before coming to a halt, cock twitching inside you.

You watched the sweat bead down his forehead as you both worked silently to relax your bodies, pulses pounding in ruthless rhythm. With a deep, contented sigh he finally slid himself out of you before going through his discarded pants on the floor. 

After a moment, he returned to you and unlocked the handcuff from your wrist, the sound of the lock clicking echoing in the room. The chains fell onto the bed with a soft thud as he gently took hold of your hands.

“Are you okay?"

You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay."

He pressed a tender kiss to both of your wrists, his lips lingering over your pulse for a moment. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked anxiously, his eyes raking over your body. "Was I too rough? Did I—""

"Spencer, relax," you whispered, you took his hand in yours. "I'm good. I promise."

"You sure?" he asked, his face still tight with concern.

"Yes, more than good. Just come cuddle with me?"

He hesitated, his eyes scanning over your body for a few seconds longer. After he seemed satisfied you really were okay, he lowered onto the bed beside you and you drew his head to your chest. Your fingers gently played with his hair, watching as he slowly relaxed into you, throwing one of his arms across your stomach. 

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... I think I needed that."

Your attention shifted to his face, happy to see his expression finally somewhat peaceful as he lay just above your breasts. His eyes were closed, the tension you'd noticed on his face when he'd arrived entirely gone now.

Gently running your fingers through his hair, you whispered, "Of course, baby. Anytime you need me, I'm here."

His lips curved into a small, contented smile as he nestled closer to you. "I love you."

A surge of warmth filled your chest at his words. "I love you too," you whispered back. "But are you okay? Do you want to talk about what happened at work?"

You felt him shift as he shook his head. "Maybe later. I just want to hold you right now."

You gently kissed the crown of his head before pulling him closer. Spencer sighed happily as he snuggled closer to you, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against your chest. He then reached over your breasts, his thumb trailing over the marks he had left on your skin. 

"I didn't realize you enjoyed that so much."

You shrugged the shoulder beside his head. "It's hard not to. I mean, I think I've always liked it when you're in control, and that doesn't only apply to sex."

He leaned back to look at you. "Really?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah. Remember the first time we started dating and someone broke into my apartment?"

"How could I forget?" he replied, a frown tugging at his brows as he recalled the memory. “That was one of the scariest moments in my life.”

"Right. You thought some serial killer was targeting me when it was just a random robbery. But the way you handled the situation..." you continued, your voice softening. "When you took charge and made sure I was safe, I realized how much I trusted you. And I remember thinking, 'Damn, my boyfriend's pretty cool.'"

His frown melted away, replaced by a warm smile at your words. "You thought I was cool?" 

You chuckled, nodding as you met his gaze. "You're cool, smart, and hot at the same time," you teased. "What I'm trying to say is, I like it when you're in control because I like to depend on you. You make me feel safe and cared for."

His expression softened even further, a tender warmth filling his eyes. "I like it when you depend on me too," he confessed softly. With a gentle tug, he sat up, bringing you along. "Come on then, let me care for you now."

You looked up at him. "Yeah? What do you have in mind?"

"I think we both need that nice warm bath."

You smiled, already feeling the tension in your muscles ease at the thought of a soothing bath with him. "Will you wash my hair too?"

He pushed a strand of hair off your face, his heart swelling with affection at the look in your eyes. How could he resist when you looked at him like he hung up the moon for you? 

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "I'll do whatever you want me to do."

[pin-k-ink]

NO ROOM FOR DOUBT ⋆✦⋆ miya osamu

synopsis ➸ marriage isn’t supposed to feel this empty, but osamu’s starting to think you’re slipping through his fingers. he doesn’t mean to accuse you of anything, but when your coworker’s name leaves your lips one too many times, he snaps. you barely get a word in before he’s on you—angry, desperate, and determined to remind you who you belong to.

tags ➸ jealousy, insecurities, hurt/comfort, mild angst, profanity, mild dom/sub dynamics, degràdation, nípple play, dírty talking, breéding kínk, creampíe, rough séx, hand job, oral séx, praise kìnk, facial, unprotécted sèx

wc ➸ 11k

The bedroom was thick with tension as Osamu closed the book he'd been pretending to read for the past hour. Across the room, you remained diligently hunched over your desk - brow furrowed, pen scratching furiously, completely absorbed in your never-ending work. Just like every other night lately.

"Ya plannin' on joinin' me over here anytime soon?" Osamu finally broke the silence, unable to stomach being ignored and alone a moment longer. "Gettin' kinda cold and lonely in this big bed all by myself."

He made sure to inject just the right amount of heated suggestion into his tone. The kind that used to have you instantly abandoning your tasks to satisfy the mutual craving you couldn't resist giving in to. But just like every other attempt at intimacy lately, you didn't even look up from your paperwork.

"I can't, Osamu. This proposal is really important and I've got to have it ready to present first thing in the morning," you replied distractedly, hiding behind that same worn-out excuse as always. "It's going to be another couple hours at least before I can call it a night."

A muscle ticked in Osamu's chiseled jaw as his patience began eroding. This was just a never-ending cycle - you constantly burying yourself in work until you were too drained for anything other than collapsing into an exhausted, dreamless sleep far away from his arms. Meanwhile, he lay awake most nights, body thrumming with unbearable arousal and need as his mind tormented him with memories of how ravenous you'd once been for each other.

Osamu could vividly recall the exact curve of your arched spine as you'd kneel over him, all nude feminine softness and aching desperation. How your tongue would trail hot, openmouthed kisses from his navel to the drooling tip of his iron length, never taking your lidded eyes off his as you hollowed those perfect lips around his girth. The way you'd moan shamelessly around his cock when he fisted those silky tresses, using that divine warmth and pressure as the first of many selfish indulgences for the night.

He could picture the exact flare of your hips as you rode him cowgirl, riding his cock until he thought he'd slip into unconsciousness from the sheer unbearable pleasure. Those lush breasts would sway and jiggle with each erotic roll of your body, nipples pebbled with rapture as your slick walls massaged and milked every maddening inch of his thickness. Osamu always had to fight with everything in him not to lose control and start jackhammering up into that molten, velvet glove squeezing him to oblivion.

And even in the afterglow of coating your convulsing insides with his thick seed, their passion never dimmed. There was always another round of foreplay to indulge - his calloused palms branding the plush silk of your ass cheeks as he rutted against you from behind. Or his lips dragging over the aching throbbing of your clit as you shrieked through full-body shudders of bliss, actively ruining his face with your cream.

Osamu didn't care what degrading, filthy acts you subjected him to when your inhibitions were lowered. All he craved was wringing pleasure from your trembling form until you were both mindless, depraved wrecks overdosing on endorphins and the scent of your mingled passion.

But lately, his hunger went completely unslaked. You were always shutting him out, too preoccupied with your work to even touch or be touched. That blazing passion you'd once indulged so spontaneously and shamelessly had dimmed to bitter embers of resentment and stifling, endless tension.

Which was what led to Osamu's newest, most insidious torment - the poisonous creep of envy and anxiety whenever you mentioned that coworker constantly singing your praises.

Osamu tried not to let the jealousy show, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to bury those insecure feelings. You talked about your coworker constantly - this brilliant, ambitious "guy" you collaborated so closely with on major projects. Osamu couldn't help wondering if the intense admiration in your voice when you praised this man's professionalism and impressive work ethic hid something more.

After all, everyone in your family had been vehemently against you marrying someone like Osamu when you first got together. They'd wanted you to find a wealthy businessman, someone who could properly provide the lavish lifestyle they felt you deserved. But you had fallen even more deeply in love with Osamu's steadfast determination to make your chosen partnership work, despite your relatives' objections.

You'd stood firm in your commitment to the humble yet passionate chef who stole your heart. But now, years into your marriage, Osamu could feel the insidious tendril of doubt and anxiety taking root. Were you regretting your decision? Did some part of you regret not listening to your family and choosing stability and status over being saddled with someone like him?

He tried smothering those poisonous thoughts underneath the soul-deep love and adoration he had for you, convincing himself it was just irrational possessiveness. But the more you spoke about this mysterious coworker, the more Osamu's sense of inadequacy flared. This man seemingly had everything he lacked - money, ambition, societal respect. No wonder you were burying yourself in work to spend more time around someone who exemplified the qualities your family had pushed you to seek in a partner.

Osamu missed the way your relationship used to be before this gulf opened between you - back when he could surprise you at your office for a spontaneous lunch or quickie in the bathroom. He grinned reminiscently at the memories of having you bent over the desk, documents and office supplies clattering to the floor as he hungrily explored your body. You'd beg for him not to stop, to take you harder and deeper even as your coworkers milled about just outside none the wiser.

But those impromptu encounters had all but stopped over the past couple of months. Now when Osamu tried to initiate anything intimate, even at home in the privacy of your bedroom, you gently but dismissively waved him off - too tired, too preoccupied with work, or simply "not in the mood" thanks to stress. Each repeated rejection was like another dagger to his heart and his increasingly fragile ego.

So Osamu did his best to bury the hurt and the aching need you weren't fulfilling. He told himself it was just a rut your marriage was going through, that the scorching passion would inevitably rekindle once this busy period passed. You loved him - you'd sacrificed so much to be with him against your family's wishes, after all.

And yet...Osamu couldn't fully silence the nagging doubts constantly echoing in the back of his mind every time you mentioned that mysterious coworker's name. He couldn't ignore the way his chest clenched painfully whenever you praised the other man's intelligence, ambition, and impressive accomplishments - all things Osamu knew he could never provide you no matter how successful his onigiri business became.

It made him wonder if some part of you did regret the life you'd chosen, no matter how deeply you still loved him. Osamu couldn't help feeling increasingly like he wasn't enough of a man to truly satisfy the brilliant woman he'd married and adored for so many years. Like a legitimate future with someone like your admired coworker was the path you deserved, even if you didn't realize it yet yourself.

So Osamu simply withdrew more into himself, burying his hurt and hunger for your intimacy and unconsciously giving you even more space to invest yourself in work - and perhaps in another man's company without even realizing it. All because some traitorous part of his heart couldn't help wondering if he'd forever be seen as the wrong choice as a husband, no matter how selflessly he loved you.

A couple more hours dragged by in tense silence, the only sound being the occasional scratch of your pen against paper as you continued working diligently at your desk. Osamu's eyes kept flicking over to you, noticing the way the lamplight accentuated the furrow in your brow and the purse of your lips as you remained fully immersed in the proposal.

He felt the knot of frustration and desire tightening in his gut with each passing minute you diligently ignored him and the intimacy he was silently begging for. This couldn't go on any longer - he needed to feel that physical connection with you again before the ache drove him mad.

"Enough, sweetheart," Osamu stated firmly, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his voice as impatience finally won out. "Put the work down and get your gorgeous ass over here already. I'm done waitin'."

You finally looked up at him, startled by his uncharacteristically stern tone. For a beat, Osamu thought you might protest and dig your heels in about finishing the proposal. But something in his expression must have conveyed the simmering need, as you hesitated before giving a small nod.

With palpable reluctance, you set your pen aside and began gathering up the strewn paperwork into some semblance of order. Osamu watched every agonizing movement hungrily, from the way you licked your lips to the distracting sway of your hips as you pushed away from the desk at last.

He drank in every inch of you as you padded slowly toward the bed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked disheveled yet impossibly beautiful in that oversized shirt - the one he loved seeing you lounge around in because of how easily it could slip off those soft curves with just a bit of impatient tugging.

Osamu's arousal spiked painfully as you finally settled onto the mattress beside him, close enough now that he could smell the lingering hint of your shampoo and feel the warmth radiating off your body. He didn't even try to mask the pure, wanton hunger in his gaze as it raked over your form shamelessly.

Unable to resist a moment longer, he surged forward and captured your lips in a searing, needful kiss. You made a muffled sound of surprise against his mouth but didn't pull away as his tongue boldly sought entrance. Osamu growled at the first teasing taste of you, fingers already clutching at your waist as if to pull you fully against him.

But you went rigid in his embrace, keeping a deliberate slice of distance between your bodies. When you broke the heated kiss, you turned your face away with a soft, "Not tonight, Osamu...I'm way too tired from working."

He fought not to let the biting sting of rejection show on his face, swallowing hard against it. "I've missed ya, darlin'...missed this," Osamu murmured, letting the rough pad of his thumb trace the plump swell of your lower lip in a silent plea. "Isn't there any part of ya that's missed me too?"

You hesitated, gaze skittering guiltily across his features. Something flickered in the depths of your eyes - that same dimmed spark of desire he saw more and more rarely these days. Then it was gone again, shuttered behind bone-deep weariness and excuses.

"I'm sorry, I know it's been a while..." you began, genuine regret lacing your tone. "But this proposal is really important, and I've got to be rested enough to present it to the board in the morning. I promise, after this is all over, we can..."

The unfinished reassurance trailed off into tense silence as you averted your gaze, unable or unwilling to even voice a promise of making time for intimacy again. Osamu swallowed hard, pulse thundering with mingled frustration and humiliated rejection.

So this was what it had come to - empty platitudes and obligatory excuses to avoid being touched by the husband who had once been unable to keep his hands off you. Somehow your flourishing career and singular focus on work had managed to obliterate any space for him in your world.

Osamu's jaw clenched hard against the torrent of bitterness and sorrow he refused to let overwhelm him. Without another word, he rolled over to put his back to you, fighting against the urge to simply leave and go sleep on the couch. At least then he could sink into his misery in solitude without your unintended presence serving as a constant reminder of everything he'd lost.

The next morning, Osamu awoke to the soft sounds of you getting ready for work. He lay there for a few minutes, eyes still closed as he tried to savor these final moments before the day inevitably pulled you away from him again. God, he missed the times when you used to linger in bed together before reluctantly untangling and starting your day.

Eventually, he couldn't resist sneaking a look at you. Osamu rolled onto his side, sheets pooling around his waist as he allowed his hungry gaze to roam over the alluring display you made. You were bent over the dresser in just a crisp button-down and lacy underwear, applying your makeup with those little focused furrows in your brow that he found so endearing. The firm swell of your ass was positioned enticingly in the air, practically begging for his calloused palms to shamelessly grope and knead the supple flesh.

Arousal began smoldering low in Osamu's gut as he drank in every lush inch of you. Your hair was still sleep-mussed, silky strands spilling over one shoulder in a way that made him ache to brush them aside and trail openmouthed kisses along the naked column of your neck. He found himself licking his lips instinctively, imagining the way you'd taste - how you used to whimper and arch shamelessly into his questing mouth whenever he leisurely explored your body with his own first thing in the morning.

Unable to resist the siren call a moment longer, Osamu threw off the sheets and padded silently up behind you. You jumped a little when his arms wound around your waist, the hard planes of his chest pressing flush against your back. But you didn't immediately push him away as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, sucking in a deep breath of your intoxicating scent.

"Mornin', gorgeous," Osamu rumbled, voice still gruff with sleep. He punctuated the gravelly endearment by walking his fingers tantalizingly up the soft panes of your stomach, reveling in the sharp hitch of your breath when they grazed the lace-trimmed underside of your breasts. "Ya got any time to spend with your husband before leavin' for work this mornin'?"

Something in you seemed to soften at his words, the perpetual tension temporarily ebbing from your frame. Osamu couldn't deny the molten rush of arousal that licked through his veins when you arched subtly back against him - a blatant, wanton invitation despite the strict professional attire.

"I might be able to spare a few minutes," you murmured, tilting your head to allow his lips better access to your throat.

Osamu hummed deep in his chest, the vibration thrumming against your skin as his fingertips continued their leisurely stroking and teasing. His teeth grazed the thundering pulse point at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, not quite biting but exerting enough pressure to make you stifle a whimper. He took his time working over that same maddening patch of sensitive flesh - laving with his tongue, sucking harsh little marks against your salty-sweet skin, utterly worshipping you in a way he hadn't been able to in far too long.

By the time his questing mouth finally slanted over yours, you were already pliant and shamelessly seeking more in his embrace. The kiss quickly turned molten, all clashing teeth and dueling tongues as weeks of pent-up hunger and need poured out between you both. Osamu's hands roamed greedily from your hips down to the lush curves of your ass, squeezing with shameless possession before yanking your lower body flush against the undeniable ridge of his arousal.

You mewled into his mouth, the wanton little sound shooting straight to his cock and making it judder eagerly. For an endless moment, it seemed as though you were on the precipice of giving in fully. Osamu could already envision bending you over the dresser and stuffing you absolutely full of his aching cock, uncaring of how late you'd be to work. He was drunk on the honeyed taste of your mouth, the sultry roll of your hips grinding back eagerly against him.

Then, all at once, you were breaking the heated kiss with a strangled gasp. There was a beat where you simply clung to one another, panting harshly as if struggling to rein in your spiraling lust. When you finally managed to speak, your voice was thick and throaty in a way that made Osamu's cock throb with need.

"Gods, I've missed this, missed you..." you confessed in a throaty murmur, sounding genuinely contrite. You turned in Osamu's embrace then, locking your heavy-lidded gaze with his in a way that made his heart stutter behind his ribs. The naked yearning and simmering desire he saw smoldering in your hooded eyes was like a searing brand against his already feverish skin.

"I'm so sorry for being so distant lately," you continued, chest still rising and falling with dampened little pants from the heated make-out session. One of your hands stroked a tender path down the ridged planes of Osamu's abdomen, nails lightly raking through the crisp trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his loose sleep pants. "I know the work can't be an excuse forever. I promise, tonight I'll leave the office early and we can have the whole evening together...just the two of us."

The husky timbre of your voice combined with that single, deliberate caress had Osamu's neglected cock stirring almost painfully against the flimsy fabric restraining it. He couldn't quite bite back the guttural rumble of need that reverberated up from his very core as your fingers continued their teasing exploration lower and lower. You offered the faintest of smirks as your palm finally cupped and squeezed the unmistakable shape of his rapidly stiffening length through the thin material.

"Fuck, darlin'...ya really know how to make a man suffer, don'tcha?" Osamu ground out through gritted teeth as he moved to sat down on the edge of the bed before his knees gave out entirely. He watched in rapt fascination as your tongue peeked out to wet your plump lips - a deliciously sinful invitation in its own right. But it was the imperious glint flickering to life in your eyes that truly made his cock twitch and strain against the confines of his pants, desperate to be freed and indulged.

You held his heated stare boldly as you continued shamelessly fondling and stroking him to full, throbbing hardness. There was something deliciously intoxicating about having your petite hand working his most intimate places so deliberately, as if he were powerless to resist giving you whatever depravity you desired. As if you knew precisely how badly he craved feeling that velvet grip moments before coating your knuckles in his shameless release.

"I'm not the one suffering here, babe," you purred, giving his aching shaft one final rough caress that nearly bucked his hips off the mattress. "You're the one walking around with this monster straining in your pants all damn day, just waiting for me to give it some attention."

The hairs along Osamu's nape and forearms instantly prickled at your crude observation - not from offense, but from the undeniable bolt of molten arousal zinging straight to his groin at being talked about so blatantly. He gnawed the inside of his cheek, glaring down at you with a heady mixture of reproach and smoldering desire flickering in the gunmetal depths of his stare.

You didn't back down from the challenge, letting your palm drag up and over his length in one torturously slow glide. Then deft fingers hooked into his waistband, tugging the loose material down just enough for his flushed cock to spring free with a harsh intake of breath punching from Osamu's chest. His hands fisted in the disheveled bedsheets as you wrapped your fingers around the thick, pulsing shaft in a firm grip.

"Maybe I should take care of this right now before I head into the office," you mused idly, giving him a few light pumps that had Osamu clenching his jaw to stifle a groan. "At least give me a few more hours before you start going stir-crazy thinking about me all over again..."

The words were barely out of your mouth before Osamu was surging forward, one calloused palm cupping the nape of your neck to yank you into a searing kiss. You let out a muffled yelp of surprise against his lips that was quickly swallowed by his questing tongue delving into the slick, honeyed heat of your mouth. Evidently you'd awoken the ravenous beast within by your blatant taunting and teasing - something dark and blazing now flickering to life behind Osamu's blown pupils.

"Be careful what ya tempt me with, baby girl," he rumbled in a low, gravelly warning as his hips lurched into the tight channel of your fist. "I might just take ya up on a hell of a lot more than that pretty little hand of yours..."

Your pupils blew wider at the explicit promise scorching every word, chest arching into his solid frame as your fingers instinctively tightened around his steely girth. Osamu hissed out a curse at the exquisite friction, thick droplets of precum already welling up and spilling over your pumping knuckles to ease the slick, heated glide.

You licked your lips unconsciously as your gaze dropped to drink in the vulgar sight of your fist working his flushed cock with more fervid urgency. There was an almost transfixed, rapturous look glazing over your features - as if you were utterly enthralled watching Osamu's thick length disappear between your fingers again and again in a messy rhythm. He could feel the rapidly mounting tension lancing through his spine, the telltale tingling heat sizzling out from his groin with each firm pull of your hand along his shaft.

But even as pleasure threatened to steal the last of his composure, Osamu still mustered the strength to reach down, fingers fumbling with the buttons of your dress shirt, intent on returning the favor. His pulse jackhammered against his sternum as he tugged the crisp white material away, revealing the lacy undergarment clinging to the supple swell of your breasts.

He felt the hot bloom of need flare in his gut, unable to resist the temptation to squeeze and knead the ample flesh. Your eyelids fluttered shut with a breathy moan as he toyed with your nipples, teasing them into stiff, rosy peaks that strained against the sheer lace. The air left Osamu's lungs in a harsh, strangled hiss as you tightened your grip around his swollen cock, a fresh wave of precum trickling down the flushed shaft.

It was all he could do not to simply rip the garment off you in a fit of desperate hunger. Instead, he pulled the cups down beneath the generous swell of your breasts, revealing the taut, pebbled buds and making a hungry growl reverberate deep in his chest.

"I've missed these so fuckin' much," Osamu rasped, voice hoarse with arousal. His thumbs dragged across the sensitive tips, reveling in the way they hardened further at his touch. "Been dreamin' of puttin' my mouth all over 'em again."

Without waiting for a response, Osamu leaned down and wrapped his lips around one eager nipple, letting his tongue swirl and flick over the bud. He was rewarded with a soft, breathy cry as your grip faltered, pleasure momentarily stealing away the ability to maintain the steady rhythm. But you quickly recovered, hand resuming its quick, urgent pace while the other tangled in the wild tresses at his nape, pressing his face closer into the inviting softness of your breasts.

A low, needful groan vibrated through the sensitive flesh in his mouth, making you whimper. Your nails bit into his scalp, holding him in place while his tongue worked and laved over the hardened tip, thoroughly lavishing the pebbled peak with his mouth and attention. Osamu's mind was spinning with the intoxicating blend of pleasure and need, the coil in his gut winding tighter and tighter.

He could already feel the tingling heat licking up his spine, signaling the impending explosion. There was nothing he could do to stop it, especially when your thumb swirled across the bulbous tip of his cock. Osamu tore his mouth away from your breast with a snarl, biting his lower lip until it almost bled as his hips shuddered and jerked, the first hot spurt of cum streaking across his abdomen.

He felt more than heard the satisfied hum reverberating through your chest as his cock pulsed and twitched against the slick warmth of your palm. Each new pump dragged a ragged grunt from his throat, milking the last of his release onto the flushed skin of his heaving stomach. It took a long, hazy moment for his vision to stop swimming, the aftershocks of his powerful orgasm still ricocheting through his frame.

In the delirious afterglow, Osamu couldn't resist the primal urge to roll you onto your back and splay himself over your pliant form. His body was still thrumming with the lingering tremors of ecstasy, every nerve ending humming like a livewire in the most exquisite way. But rather than feeling sated, that molten kernel of desire seemed to blaze even hotter at your flushed, thoroughly debauched appearance beneath him.

Your chest heaved with dampened little pants, spit-slick nipples straining against the thin fabric of your unbuttoned blouse. Osamu's gaze roamed shamelessly over the dusky flush staining your skin, down to where the scant lace of your underwear was already soaked through with arousal. He could still taste the honeyed tang of your essence on his tongue from devouring your mouth so ravenously.

With a rumbling groan of renewed hunger, Osamu dipped his head to trail a blazing path of open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips along the elegant column of your throat. You whimpered and arched into the delicious onslaught, clearly struggling to recover your senses enough to protest or push him away. Not that Osamu would have heeded any objections in that heated moment.

"'Samu..." you finally gasped out in a breathy whine as his questing mouth found the swell of your breasts. "I...I have to go or I'll be late..."

He merely grunted against the lush, silken mounds he'd bared so wantonly, tongue swirling over one pebbled peak before sucking the hardened nub between his lips. The broken, urgently tangled sound you made in response sent a scorching spiral of satisfaction lancing through Osamu's groin. For this solitary, lust-drenched instance, you were his again - the gorgeous, needy wife who used to tremble and beg for him to take his time devouring every lush inch.

"Don't think 'bout leavin' this bed until I've had my fill, darlin'," he rumbled, voice pitching even lower and rougher with naked longing.

Perhaps he should have been embarrassed by the wanton, possessive words spilling so unrestrainedly from his lips. But Osamu was too deliriously drunk on the taste and scent and feel of you, the opportunity to rekindle the blazing passion you'd both been so callously denying for far too long. He could already feel the thick insistence of his cock rapidly regenerating between your bodies, seeking that slick source of intoxicating velvet heat.

You seemed to read the explicit intent smoldering behind his hooded stare. With visible effort, you reached up to gently but firmly push against Osamu's shoulders, demurring even as your chest continued rising and falling with shallow pants of desire.

"I really do have to go," you murmured again, licking your plump lips in a completely unconscious gesture Osamu couldn't tear his eyes from. "But...I promise tonight will be just for us. No distractions or work, just you and me reacquainting ourselves properly."

Your sincerity and the dark, heated vow behind those words punched the breath from Osamu's lungs in a trembling exhalation. Part of him - the part that had been aching and insecure for so long now - longed to open his mouth and spill every pent-up insecurity and anxiety. To voice the ugly wonderings that had been festering over whether you harbored deeper regrets about the paths your lives had taken together.

"Do ya...have any regrets?" He found himself rasping out before he could reconsider voicing his private torment. "About us, I mean. Marryin' a guy like me instead of—"

The shrill trill of your phone sliced through the weighted air like a cold slash of sobriety, effectively derailing Osamu's spiraling train of thought. You both froze, heads whipping toward the maddening sound with identical expressions of startled disruption.

Then, as if through a physical force, Osamu felt his stomach plummet all over again when he saw the name that had lit up your screen, accompanying that godforsaken ringtone.

Him. That overly accomplished, smooth-talking coworker you were always praising and mentioning incessantly, whether you realized the implication or not. Osamu's jaw clenched hard enough to grind his molars audibly, hot lance of bitter jealousy flaring with staggering potency. He wanted to ignore the call completely, grab you by the shoulders and shake the truth out of you then and there. Demand honesty about the nature of your relationship with this asshole who always seemed to interrupt and insert himself into their lives, even inadvertently.

But just like that, the rapturous spell you'd both temporarily fallen under was obliterated. Perhaps sensing the drastic shift in Osamu's energy, you quickly sat up and smoothed your disheveled appearance before answering with a terse: "This is [Y/N]. Yes, I was just..."

Osamu barely registered your muffled conversation as white-hot lances of jealousy and resentment pierced through his heartbeat in crashing waves. He simply couldn't stomach listening to the familiar, upbeat tones you always used whenever discussing anything related to that insufferable coworker. The one whose very existence always sent Osamu spiraling into pits of doubt and masculine inadequacy no matter how much logic dictated otherwise.

With stiff, jerky movements, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stooped to hastily tug his pants back into place. His jaw was still clenched so tightly he could feel the tendons straining, every snapping motion charged with scarcely restrained frustration. Part of Osamu didn't even know where this combustible mixture of emotions was coming from - only that it had been abruptly stoked into an inferno within his chest at the sound of that man's name on your lips yet again.

He needed to get out, to escape the suddenly suffocating confines of your bedroom before he had a chance to let the uglier side of his temper detonate in your direction undeservedly. Osamu knew damn well you didn't owe him anything, let alone an explanation for simply taking a call about work in the middle of your morning routines. It was his own traitorous demons and self-doubts rearing their insidious heads yet again.

You'd just begun to make a sincere effort at bridging the distance that had calcified between you, after all. And then he'd managed to go and ruin the moment in spectacular fashion as always. Osamu cursed beneath his breath, shoving his feet into the nearest pair of sandals with jerky impatience as he prepared to storm out and spend the day holed up at the restaurant letting the ovens scour the resentment from his system.

Just as he was yanking on his t-shirt, your soft voice cut through the haze of turmoil ricocheting through his skull: "Osamu, wait..."

He froze in place, muscles coiled tensely as you stepped into his space and pressed your palms over the flushed, taut planes of his abdomen. Your eyes were large and imploring as you tipped your face up towards his, bottom lip caught between your teeth in an unconscious gesture that stirred his lingering lust despite the tangled knot of conflicting emotions.

"I know the timing was awful, but you have to know that call didn't change anything," you murmured, trailing the words against the stubbled line of his jaw in a soft caress. "Tonight is for us, 'Samu. Just you and me with no more interruptions, I swear it."

Those silky reassurances seemed to simultaneously drench Osamu's temper in a dampening balm while stoking the embers of longing and reaffirmation you'd awoken deep within him. He leaned unconsciously into your touch, letting his eyes drift shut as you pressed a lingering kiss to the thundering pulse at his throat. You knew just how to gentle the storm within him, how to properly tame the roiling storm of chaotic need and desire ever-present just beneath his surface restraint.

"You'd better keep that promise, my gorgeous girl," Osamu rasped out gruffly, suddenly lacking the energy to maintain any semblance of distance or aloofness. Abandoning his half-hearted escape attempt, he wound his arms around your waist and crushed you flush against his bare chest. God, how he'd missed the contoured perfection of your body molded to his, the soft delirious surrender of your mouth pillowing into his as the kiss deepened.

After several breathless, devouring moments, you were the one who finally broke away with obvious reluctance. There was an adorable, swollen temptation clinging to your features that made heat bloom anew in Osamu's groin.

"I should...I should really get going before I'm any later," you managed, despite the way your palms drifted aimlessly along his flanks in mute contradiction. "Just...try to have a good day, okay? And be ready to make good on that promise tonight."

The reminder of your imminent departure momentarily dampened the rekindled blaze licking through Osamu's veins, though he managed a faint nod through the disappointment. There would be no more delaying the outside world's demands this morning, he recognized begrudgingly.

"Yeah, darlin', you go on and take care of your business," he rumbled, forcing a tight smirk in place. "I'll be right here waitin' to take damn good care of you later."

With one final, searing look of naked longing and affection, you slipped from his embrace and bustled around to collect your things. Osamu leaned back against the wall and admired every efficient movement and enticing flash of bare skin exposed by your mussed attire. He knew better than to try stealing any further moments beyond what you'd already indulged. Tonight would come, and with it the chance to reconnect with you in all the ways he'd been starving for lately.

That glimmer of hope and rekindled anticipation was enough to infuse Osamu with much-needed patience as he finally watched you head out the door, throwing a coy glance over your shoulder. For the first time in months, the future felt more like an endless oasis to indulge in rather than an empty desert to be endured.

The muffled ticking of the bedside clock seemed to reverberate through Osamu's skull like a steadily amplifying drum of dread. Midnight had come and gone over an hour ago, each agonizing minute distorting into excruciating suspense as he waited impatiently for you to arrive home as promised.

He'd closed up the restaurant early for once, something he almost never allowed for fear of disappointing the loyal patrons who depended on the Miya name. But tonight was supposed to be different - a rare evening reserved solely for reconnecting with the wife he adored yet had been neglecting for far too long. So Osamu made the sacrifice without a second thought, eager to slip into your shared home and set the scene for a night of indulgent intimacies.

Which was why he currently sat perched on the edge of your rumpled bed, stripped down to just his loose sleep pants in anticipation. Flickering candlelight danced in a sensual halo across the dimly lit space, blending with the heated aromas of scented oils he'd taken care to prepare. An indulgent spread of chilled sake and decadent fruits had been arranged on the bedside table, standing ready for whenever you finally saw fit to arrive.

Osamu's jaw clenched hard as his eyes flicked once more to the glowing numbers of the clock, each one seeming to mock his vigil more cruelly than the last. Where the hell were you? What could possibly be keeping you so unconscionably late after making such emphatic promises about spending one uninterrupted evening reacquainting yourselves on every conceivable level?

He fought not to let his mind spiral down the darkest avenues, to those insidious tendrils of self-doubt and virulent envy that had taken root thanks to your increasing emotional distance lately. Osamu knew where those toxic paths led - to irrational accusations, defensive postulating, and the exact sort of explosive confrontation that could shatter the fragile new understanding you'd seemingly reforged earlier in the morning.

And yet the minutes continued their merciless tick...tick...tick down to oblivion, each one stoking Osamu's restless frustration into an inextinguishable furnace despite his best efforts. You'd sworn there would be no more distractions tonight, nothing to divert your attentions from properly reconnecting after so much strain and deprivation between you both. He'd believed you with every fiber of his soul, clinging to that hushed promise like a man dying of thirst finally being offered the sweetest oasis to drink from.

But here he sat, alone and slowly twisting within the flames of his own insecurities and irrational resentments as the night stretched on interminably. Surely you wouldn't be so cruel, so selfish as to actually disregard everything you'd—

The rattle of keys in the front door snapped Osamu from his spiraling torment like a rubberband violently released. He was on his feet in an instant, bare chest heaving from the rapid thundering of his pulse as hurried footsteps approached. There was only the barest glimmer of composure in his expression by the time you came into view, haloed in the soft lighting with your usual unruffled elegance noticeably brittle around the edges.

"Hey, I'm so sorry it took so—" You jolted at the utterly thunderous look twisting Osamu's normally unshakable features. It was as if you'd stepped directly into the crosshairs of a volatile storm system, the roiling tumult threatening to obliterate you where you stood.

"Don't," he bit out through gritted teeth, the words escaping on a scorched exhale. "Whatever excuse ya think ya got, I don't wanna hear it right now."

Your eyes widened fractionally at his harsh tone, so uncharacteristically biting and laced with venom he usually kept on a brutally leashed tether around you. Perhaps you sensed the dangerous inferno searing through Osamu's veins in that loaded moment, the rage and desolation rapidly overriding any attempts at patience or understanding.

"This was s'posed to be our night, just the two of us reconnectin' after so much bullshit strain and distance," Osamu seethed, taking an inadvertent step forward on legs that felt like they may give out from all the unreleased tension. "But ya blew that off, same as everythin' else lately. Can't even be bothered to show up and make an honest try at it—"

"Osamu, that's not fair at all!" You cut him off with a flash of your own bristling defensiveness. "You know this new project has been crazy for everyone in the office lately. Sasaki needed some files finished up for the big meeting tomorrow, so I—"

The mention of that name was like a razor slashing through the final taut threads of Osamu's restraint. His vision whited out momentarily, a primal roar of fury ripping from deep within his straining chest.

"Don't you dare say that snake's name in front of me right now, not after all his bullshit is what caused this whole fuckin' mess!" Osamu bellowed, unable to control the torrent of rage and accusation lashing out in every direction now.

You recoiled as if struck, eyes widening with genuine shock at the venom dripping from Osamu's words. "What the hell are you talking about, Osamu? Bringing Sasaki into this?"

He let out a harsh, derisive bark of laughter completely devoid of mirth. "Don't act so damn clueless! Ya really think I'm blind to everything that's been goin' on lately?"

Whirling away from you, Osamu raked his hands through his disheveled hair with a ragged groan. "Ya can't even be bothered to show up for one goddamn night after promisin' me - promisin' your own husband - that you'd actually make time for us. Instead ya let that wormy son of a bitch take priority over me, over this marriage, just like always!"

He punctuated his outburst by sweeping an arm across the bedside table, sending the sake bottle and plate of fruit clattering to the floor in a violent clatter. You flinched bodily at the outburst, more stunned than anything by the sudden shift into such ferocious rage.

"I don't understand... What does Sasaki have to do with any of this?" you demanded, hands curling into fists at your sides. "He's my colleague, Osamu - my coworker on this huge make-or-break project. You're acting completely insane right now!"

"Oh I'm insane?" he snarled, wheeling back to face you with eyes made incandescent by the inferno of betrayal raging within. "That's rich comin' from the wife who's been slowly driftin' away to give all her time and attention to another man!"

The vicious accusation seemed to hang there, reverberating through the tense silence as Osamu stared you down with heaving breaths. You opened and closed your mouth once, twice, before the hurt and outrage finally burst free in a trembling torrent.

"How dare you..." The whisper was barely audible over the thundering of blood in your ears. "How dare you even suggest that I would...that I could ever..."

You didn't bother finishing the thought, simply hurling it aside as you stalked towards him with fury lending each step a razor's edge. "You bastard! How could you accuse me of something so vile, so unfathomably disgusting?"

Osamu held his ground even as you drove into his space, eyes blazing and jaw so tightly clenched he wondered if molars might start fracturing under the strain. "Well why the hell else would ya keep brushin' me off like some irrelevant afterthought whenever that prick's name gets brought up?"

That earned him a hard shove to the chest that made him stumble back a step. "Because he's my project manager, you insensitive prick! We've been working around the clock to pull this massive deal together, not carrying on some tawdry affair behind your back!"

Osamu opened his mouth, a scathing retort undoubtedly primed to further stoke the raging inferno engulfing you both. But you barreled forward, far too swept up in your own torrent of indignation to give him the chance.

"I can't believe you'd think I was capable of that, of betraying you like that!" You were nearly shouting now, treading the terrifying line of pushing too far with your vehement denial. "Have I really fallen so low in your eyes, Osamu? Have you completely lost all respect for me as your wife just because I've been stressed with work?"

The words seemed to splinter something inside him, shattering the final vestiges of Osamu's tenuous restraint like a wrecking ball through glass. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go - not even remotely close. Yet here you both were, lashing out with scorching recriminations and accusations so poisonous they could permanently scald the bond you'd been fighting so hard to preserve.

The tension escalated rapidly as deep-seated insecurities and resentments came pouring out from Osamu in a torrent of anguished words.

"You think I'm blind?" he rasped, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at his sides. "I see the way ya talk about him - all admirin' and impressed. Like he's exactly the kinda successful, ambitious man ya wish ya coulda ended up with instead of a guy whose biggest accomplishment is plowin' rice into little seaweed pockets."

Osamu's throat bobbed convulsively, the swell of emotion he'd fought so hard to keep tamped down suddenly rupturing free without restraint. "Don't try denyin' it, darlin'. We both know your family never wanted this for ya - never wanted some third-rate chef as a son-in-law when ya deserved someone who could actually give ya a real, prosperous future."

You opened your mouth to protest - whether to rail against his baseless accusations or to deny the awful truth ringing out from his words, it was impossible to say. But Osamu simply barreled forward, finally giving voice to every twisted vine of anxiety and inadequacy that had been slowly strangling him from the inside out.

"I ain't blind to how impressive that asshole Sasaki must seem in comparison," he forced out in a guttural rasp. "'Course ya had to go fallin' for his fake charms and prestigious career instead of stayin' happy with a foolish dreamer like me who hasn't accomplished a godddamn thing outside the kitchen..."

There was so much raw, visceral pain laced into the venom now, to the point where it seemed to sap the very fire thrumming through Osamu's veins. His shoulders slumped infinitesimally as the next words escaped in a broken exhalation that may as well have torn straight from the tattered remnants of his heart:

"Bet ya regret it nowadays, don't ya? Regret waitin' around for me to finally become a man who deserves someone as outta my league as you..."

The weighted silence that followed could have been sliced with a heated blade. Osamu's chest heaved raggedly with the exertion of finally purging that bottle of poisonous self-loathing and desperate jealousy he'd allowed to steep unchecked for far too long. He couldn't even meet your widened stare, afraid of what condemnation or twisted sense of validation he might find reflecting back in your eyes.

When you finally did speak, the words were laced with a mordant, simmering fury that very nearly made Osamu flinch.

"You absolute fool..." Your voice shook with the sheer effort of leashing your own outrage at such egregiously unfounded accusations. "We've built an entire life together - made innumerable sacrifices and shed blood, sweat and tears to stay by each other's sides against all resistance. And you have the audacity to stand there and suggest I've been regretting my choice the whole time?"

Osamu did flinch then at the naked hurt bleeding into your tone, even as you took a threatening step forward into his space. "You think I give a damn about some uppity corporate suit's status or paycheck? That shallow, meaningless bullshit like money and prestige means anything to me compared to finding a man with the strength of conviction to relentlessly pursue his own dreams and passions?"

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and something infinitely more searing - the look of utter betrayal that comes from having one's most profoundly held beliefs and principles insulted so grossly. "I chose you, Osamu. Not because I settled or had limited options, but because I saw a fiercely ambitious man who refused to let anything deter him from the path he'd chosen. Who am I to judge or look down on that resolve when it's the very thing that's taken you this far in life and made your wildest dreams into reality?"

You uttered a choked, incredulous bark of laughter then, thumbing away the treacherous moisture from your lashes. "And yet here you are, somehow twisting my admiration and commitment into some kind of damning regret? As if I'd ever be shallow enough to toss away everything we've fought for just because some stuffed shirt made more money than the husband I willingly chose to spend my life with?"

The words hung there, searing into Osamu's skin like a brand of recrimination and disgrace that he knew he'd never fully recover from. His throat worked uselessly as his mouth dried up completely, every fresh inhale feeling like shards of glass being slowly dragged down his esophageal lining.

"Darlin', I—" Osamu's words caught in his throat, the apology and desperate plea for understanding withering on his tongue.

Your expression hardened as you watched him struggle, lips pressed into a flat line. For a tense moment, it seemed like you might indeed turn and storm away, leaving Osamu to wallow in the shattered ruins of his unfounded accusations and misplaced jealousy.

But then your features softened almost imperceptibly. You seemed to truly take in the picture he made - shoulders slumped, eyes downcast with naked shame and regret, hollow ache etched into the lines of his face. Slowly, you bridged the distance between you until you could reach out and gently cup his bristled jaw, coaxing his gaze up to meet yours.

"Oh 'Samu..." you murmured, thumb tracing the sharp plane of his cheekbone. "How long have you been torturing yourself with all these insecurities?"

He worked his jaw but no sound emerged save a ragged exhalation. Osamu felt utterly flayed open and exposed under the weight of your searching stare. As if you could see straight through to the twisted tangle of self-doubt and desperate possessiveness that had steadily tightened its vice-like grip around his heart.

You simply shook your head, features etched with a complicated mixture of sadness, exasperation, and that bone-deep affection he'd watched himself slowly burying over the past weeks and months. "All this time, you've been utterly convinced I was unhappy, that I was regretting my choice to be with you. When the truth couldn't be more opposite..."

Leaning in, you pressed your brow to Osamu's and simply held there for a long, grounding moment. He could feel the featherlight sweeps of your exhales fanning across his skin, smell the warm, comforting fragrance of your hair enveloping his senses. It was like your mere presence acted as a balm against the rawest, most inflamed parts of him.

"I don't know exactly when or how we let ourselves drift so far apart," you eventually continued in a murmur meant only for him. "All I know is how unbearable the distance became, feeling you slipping further and further away from me with each passing day. Maybe I did get too wrapped up in work and missed the warning signs..."

Osamu shuddered out a shaky breath, feeling the knot of shame and guilt inside him swell larger. Your understanding, your infinite well of empathy and wisdom that he'd somehow deluded himself into believing you'd grown contemptuous of - it was all still here, still the most beautiful facet of the woman he'd fallen for all those years ago. How could he have been so blind? So deeply steeped in insecurity and baseless resentments to lash out at you in such a vile manner?

As if sensing his spiraling self-flagellation, you cradled the nape of his neck and pulled him into a searing kiss that he instantly melted into. It was a kiss filled with forgiveness and reaffirmation, a reminder of the profoundly deep love and unwavering devotion you'd sworn to one another through all the hardships thrown your way. When you finally parted, Osamu chased your mouth with a low, plaintive rumble of unvarnished need.

"I'm here, 'Samu," you reassured him with solemn conviction. "We're going to find our way back to each other, just like we always have. But you have to start learning to trust me again. To trust in the choice I made to have you as my partner through everything life throws our way, no matter what."

Osamu could only nod helplessly against the crown of your head, arms tightening their embrace as if you might simply evaporate into the ether without his anchor. He felt hollowed out, scraped raw from finally lancing the fetid well of poisonous emotions he'd allowed to fester for far too long.

But beneath the shame and regret still simmering dimly, a new spark of warmth kindled to life within his chest. You hadn't given up on him, on them, despite his unforgivable lapse of faith. If anything, your understanding and patience seemed to burn brighter in the aftermath of such an explosive confrontation.

"I never stopped trustin' you, darlin'," he rasped out in a voice made husky from the night's tumultuous purging. "Not really. Just got so twisted up in my own bullshit fears of not bein' enough for ya that I...I let it blind me to everythin' else."

Pulling back just enough to brush away the dampness clinging to your lashes, Osamu managed a wan smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ya deserve so much more than some deadbeat who lets his own demons make him lash out at the best thing he's ever had."

You shook your head mutely, fingers tracing the sharp curve of his cheek with infinite tenderness. "That's where you're wrong, 'Samu. I don't want or need anything 'more' than you - than this life and family and partnership we've created together through the years."

Ducking your head, you pressed a soft kiss Just above the thundering pulse at his throat, seeming to savor the solidity of him against your mouth. "Maybe that's where I failed you too. Got so wrapped up in my own career ambitions that I didn't reassure you enough of how precious you are to me."

Osamu shivered at the whisper-light caress of your lips slowly mapping across the column of his neck, your breath fanning in warm gusts against his sensitized skin. There was an achingly familiar heat rapidly rekindling low in his abdomen despite his emotional rawness - like an instinctive, Pavlovian response to your intimate proximity and worship after so much bitter starvation.

"Ya still chose me over everythin' y'know," he managed in a low, strained rasp as your mouth continued blazing an indulgent path towards his collarbone. "Despite all the bullshit expectations and pressures tryin' to push ya towards greener pastures, ya fought to be by my side. Never really understood how that didn't scare a gorgeous, brilliant woman like you away for good..."

A tremor shuddered through Osamu's frame at the deliberate graze of your teeth Just below his ear, the shock of blunted sensation bordering on pain yet stoking the slow smolder between his hips into an inferno. He could feel his cock rapidly stiffening within the loose confines of his sweats, aching arousal pulsing thickly as your mouth meandered lower.

"Maybe the real question..." you purred in a voice gone husky with a new and deliciously different kind of need. "...is whether you think I regret my choice now when you're standing here all hard and fuckable and completely irresistible to me?"

The shockingly filthy endearment combined with the questing path your fingers had begun to blaze down Osamu's abdomen, dipping just below the tempting waistband of his clothes, made his eyelids flutter closed with a harsh exhalation. You knew exactly which of his buttons to push, what incendiary combination of pleasure and praise could undo his restraint at the drop of a hat.

Something wild and ravenous flickered to life behind his lust-glazed eyes as Osamu hauled you flush against him, the evident ridge of his arousal grinding into the soft give of your belly between your bodies. There would be no more talking for the moment, he decided with a low rumble vibrating against your mouth. Just the two of you indulging in the most profoundly intimate form of communication after being starved of it for far too long.

The raw neediness quickly bled away any lingering awkwardness or heavy emotional weight between you. In its place thrummed that deliriously familiar charge - the revved tension of two lifelong partners who knew every intimate tell and trick to unraveling one another with ruthless precision.

"God, I've missed this..." Osamu growled against the swell of your throat, teeth scraping just firmly enough to make you shudder. "Missed havin' ya spread out and whinin' for more of this cock like the rapturous little slut ya are."

You whimpered at the dark timbre of his words, tilting your head back on instinct to bare more of your neck's vulnerable expanse. Despite the crude endearment, you could feel slick arousal already dampening your inner thighs at Osamu's molten promises. This was the raw, unrestrained husband you'd been starving for too - the one who wielded filth and adoration in equally devastating measures.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you taunted breathlessly, raking blunt nails down the ridges of his abdomen. "Fill me up already, make me your whore for wasting so much time..."

A punched-out groan rattled up from Osamu's chest as he hauled you impossibly closer, thick cock twitching insistently against your clothed belly. "Oh I'm gonna take my sweet time, baby girl. Gonna ruin that greedy lil' cunt 'til you're nothin' but a soppy, overstuffed mess beggin' for air..."

There was no more need for foreplay or delicate reintroductions as you both rapidly descended into your basest headspaces. You simply tore at his sweatpants with ravenous impatience until Osamu's thick, flushed length sprang free and into your eager fist. He snarled against the sting of your palm working his shaft in rough, decisive strokes meant to bring him to the very precipice before you'd even entertained the idea of lining him up to your entrance.

But that was the beautiful dance you'd perfected over years of pushing each other's limits - winding one another up into such blazing states of desperation that the eventual payoff was nothing short of psychedelic euphoria. Osamu's huge palms were already shoving up the thin fabric of your top, exposing your bare breasts to his calloused adulation as he rutted shamelessly against your pumping fist.

"Not gonna last if ya keep that up, my gorgeous little cumslut..." he gritted out in a strangled rasp, foregoing any further niceties. "Better start puttin' that cock-hungry mouth to good use already if ya want a chance at gettin' bred tonight..."

Dropping instantly to your knees, you simply quirked a taunting brow up at your husband's wrecked expression before guiding the blunt, drooling tip of his length between your already slicked lips. Osamu gathered your hair in his fist and simply held for a beat, watching the obscene way his swollen girth disappeared in and out of your welcoming warmth with a rapturous expression.

"There's my pretty lil' cockwarmer," he groaned, canting his hips to sink a fraction deeper. "Fuck, been dyin' to have that hot lil' tongue of yours back on my dick..."

The rest of his words melted into a low, animalistic snarl as you bobbed down and swallowed around him, coaxing a fat, pearly droplet of pre-cum from his tip. The rich, salty flavor flooded your senses and made you moan eagerly, the vibrations making Osamu's eyes flutter shut and his cock throb heavily in your grasp.

He looked like a veritable Adonis standing there framed in the moonlight, towering and muscled and utterly, deliciously ruined by the way your lips and tongue were working him over. But the best part was the way he watched you with rapt, devouring attention, utterly spellbound by the lewd, wet sounds emerging from the union of your mouth and his swollen shaft.

It was a heady rush of power to have such a formidable man at the mercy of your mouth - to know you'd driven him so delirious with arousal and affection that he could barely restrain the need to come undone. But you could already feel the telltale tension beginning to tighten in his thighs, the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest as Osamu's breath turned ragged.

"Not gonna last," he finally grunted out in a gravelly rasp, the fingers fisted in your hair clenching involuntarily. "Want my cum all over that pretty lil' face instead of down your throat..."

You simply hummed an eager affirmative, working your fist faster as the wet, rhythmic sounds of suction and friction escalated. The lewd, filthy squelches of you worshipping his cock filled the space, along with the broken, needy groans and muttered obscenities that Osamu couldn't contain anymore.

His hips were snapping forward erratically now, driving his swollen length further and deeper until you were nearly choking. The sight of you kneeling there with his shaft buried down your throat and tears clinging to your lashes made something savage and possessive rear up inside Osamu, something that had been repressed and starved for far too long.

It didn't take more than a few seconds after you hollowed out your cheeks and swirled your tongue around his pulsing girth for him to finally come undone. You felt the instantaneous warning flex and throb of his cock against your tongue, heard the sharp curse ripped from his lips as Osamu spilled his thick, scalding release across your face and the slope of your breasts.

It was an obscene and utterly debauched picture, one that made you moan and rock your hips desperately against nothing as your own arousal flared to a fever pitch. But the look of awe and unhinged lust painted across Osamu's face was more than enough to send a fresh jolt of wetness slicking between your thighs.

He stood there panting for a long moment, staring down at you like the vision straight out of his most depraved dreams. His thumb slowly swept through the thick, pearly ropes painting your skin before tracing the swell of your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open so he could feed you a few decadent, musky drops.

"God, look at that..." Osamu murmured in a gravel-rough voice, gaze glazed over with the kind of pure, primal desire that made you whimper helplessly as he slowly brought you back up to your feet. "Haven’t seen ya like this since our honeymoon, darlin'...Look so damn ravishing with all my cum paintin' that pretty lil' face..."

A breathless gasp punched out of your lungs at the first questing touch between your thighs, the shock of sensation nearly blinding as it ricocheted through you. You were so wound up from sucking his cock that Osamu could have probably slid home without any additional prep, the evidence of that fact seeping from your soaked entrance in a steady trickle.

"Already soaked through yer panties for me, huh?" he purred, thumb stroking your slit teasingly. "What's got ya so worked up, baby girl? Was suckin' my dick really that excitin' for ya?"

Osamu was already tugging aside the drenched scrap of fabric, exposing you completely to the cool night air and his ravenous gaze. He was hard again, already straining against the cradle of your hips as he dragged the fat, glistening head of his cock through your folds.

"Think I remember this bein' the most excitin' part for ya..." he mused, sinking just the tip in and groaning as you immediately clenched and fluttered around him. "When I'd fuck ya slow and sweet, lettin' ya feel every inch as I sank into yer cunt."

A helpless cry wrenched itself from your throat at the first slow, achingly decadent stretch, your spine arching instinctively and hips bucking for more. It was exactly as Osamu remembered, the perfect, sinful way you took him so eagerly - all hot, velvety grip and clenching pressure that drove him steadily closer to the brink.

But the pace was torturously, maddeningly slow - a sensual glide of friction and heat and breathless kisses until you felt like you were about to combust. You clung to him, clawing desperately at his back and shoulders as he pinned you to the wall with his weight, driving his cock into you again and again with a relentless rhythm.

"Oh god...yes..." you whined, voice pitching higher as Osamu's mouth latched onto your throat, teeth sinking in just sharply enough to make you sob. "Fuck, I missed this, 'Samu...filling me up so full of your cock...missed you fucking me like you own me..."

He swore viciously, hips snapping forward so sharply that you could have sworn his tip kissed the deepest reaches of you. Osamu's eyes were glassy and blown black with need, mouth swollen and red from the brutal kiss you'd pulled him into. He looked almost wild, a feral, untamed version of your husband who seemed ready to consume you whole.

"I do own you, baby girl..." he snarled, hand slipping between you to stroke your swollen clit. "This gorgeous little cunt was made for my cock, right? Can't get enough of the way I'm fillin' ya up, can ya?"

You cried out in agreement, legs locking tighter around his waist and nails raking across the planes of his back. Osamu's touch was unerringly precise, knowing just how and where to stimulate you to bring about the most devastating of orgasms. Your head fell back with a wordless wail, body going taut as the pleasure crested and shattered inside you.

Osamu kept driving into you, fucking you through the orgasm and straight towards the next one as he chased his own release. He was babbling filthy nonsense into the crook of your neck, praises and oaths and filth mixed together into a desperate, unintelligible litany. You could feel the slick glide of his cock and the renewed gush of your juices from the overstimulation, the obscene sounds of it all ratcheting your desire higher still.

It wasn't until his cock began to swell and twitch within the grasp of your cunt, spitting ropes of seed deep inside you, that Osamu finally slowed and went boneless against you. He slumped forward, trapping you between his sweat-slicked frame and the wall at your back, still buried to the hilt.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the harsh drags of your breaths and the distant sounds of the ocean lapping at the shore. There was no need for words, just the warm, comforting embrace of a bond and trust renewed.

"We're not done here," Osamu finally rumbled, voice low and raspy with lingering need. "M’ not gonna be satisfied 'til I've had ya in every single room of this place. On the porch. In the kitchen. Even the damn balcony."

A soft, incredulous laugh bubbled up from your chest, but it quickly morphed into a wanton moan when his hips rocked into you. You were already growing wetter, more sensitive, with each languid stroke of his cock.

"I don't think my body could handle a marathon sexcapade like our honeymoon, 'Samu," you managed to gasp out.

A wolfish smirk stretched across his face at the memory of how you'd spent most of your first week together as newlyweds - utterly debauched and insatiable and ravenous for one another.

"We'll see about that, darlin'."

[q1ngqve]

ᝰ VIP ROOM !

✶ 𓏲ּ ꩜ 𓂅 the penacony grand theater cordially invites you to V.I.P. room 2 this friday evening for a musical!

CW; fem! reader x penacony men (separated), vaginal penetration, fingering, slight degradation & voyeurism, vibrator, bondage, ‘daddy’ (only for gallagher)

𐙚 AVENTURINE

your gasps ring in his ears as he slides one of your leg onto his lap, spreading you apart effortlessly. his grip on your thigh is tight and steady, clearly having no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

snuggled next to him on the sofa, you feel his arm draped around you, holding both your wrists together, and smirking when you squirm to reach for your dress.

your eyes dart to his face, observing his furrowed brows and the angry smirk as he stares back into your eyes, clear jealousy written in those colourful irises. he leans in close, lips just inches apart from yours, and you feel his breathing turn erratic as his eyes darken, "you love teasing me, don't you?"

"I was just saying hi to an old friend..."

"did you not see the way he looked at you?"

your head shakes cautiously, nails digging softly into your own skin, "m' sorry." aventurine pecks you on your lips, the glossy lipstick staining his own in the process.

another whimper sounds as his gloved fingers slide under your thighs, the soft pads of his black gloves resting snugly against your clothed, pulsing nub. his smirk reappears when the wetness soaks through your panties and onto his gloves, soft squelching sounds reverberate in the VIP room.

your head falls against his shoulder, wrists still bound by his hand, legs spread and trembling on his lap. your boyfriend teases at your earlobes, nipping at the tender skin, sending shivers down your spine with each bite.

his deft fingers slides under your panties, and you hear him chuckle into your ear at how drenched you are for him, making it so easy for his two fingers to slip right into your warm hole.

"who do you belong to, hmm?"

he releases your wrists, the now free hand reaching up to your throat, pulling you closer to his face again.

"—you."

"good girl."

the air gets knocked out of your chest as he pushes you onto the sofa, his fingers still pumping and curling in your pussy harshly, his pace only increasing with each cry of his name you let out.

an embarrassing squelch sounds as he removes them, and you whine at the empty feeling inside you, the ring of muscle clenching at nothing as your hands reach for his nape.

"please— need you so bad..." a satisfied hum leaves him as he leans down to kiss your forehead, pushing his fingers in again without warning at the same time. your legs tense, and your toes curl, a loud moan escaping you, only to get muffled by him stuffing your dress into your mouth.

"all of this," his lips latch onto your neck as they suckle on the sensitive spots, "is for me," littering them with beautiful hickeys that he'll admire later on, "and me only." the musical on stage turning into background noise.

𐙚 BOOTHILL

boothill grunts into your dripping pussy as your fingers pull on the roots of his hair, tugging both away and towards your core, uncertain if you want more or to escape this torment.

"stay still, sweetheart."

a soft "can't—" escapes you, making him cock an eyebrow, his mouth never stopping, licking and sucking at your puffy clit. the silent command from his eyes has you tensing your thighs as his grip tightens, and you're sure his metal fingers will leave marks there tomorrow.

moans of his name fill the room as he frees on hand to slide under your dress and up to your chest, the cool metal wrapping around your boob comfortably. your body shrinks as he plays with the soft bundle of nerves, thumb and pointer finger pinching at your nipple occasionally, making your pussy clench.

his eyes roll to the back of his head the moment his tongue dips into your warm core, your juices and gummy walls sending his engine into overdrive. you swear if he were in a cartoon, there'd be smoke coming out of his back right now.

"pretty girl tastes so (fucking) good." hums when your legs clench around his head, "all this, just for me."

your eyes water as you come undone on his tongue. the sound of fans whirring before you drags you back to reality as he stands, flipping you around so that you're kneeling on the sofa with your hands on the backrest.

whines leave you as he flips your dress up and tears your panties easily. the familiar feeling of cool metal dick has you lying limp on the backrest, your hips involuntarily grinding back against him.

"eager, aren't we?"

muffled whimpers sound from you as you bury your face into the cushions, knowing that you'll be making extremely embarrassing sounds the moment he enters you.

a loud groan escapes boothill as he slides into you, the cool, hard metal of his dick a clear contrast to your soft, warm, and inviting walls, wrapping around him like a vice.

his hand slips around your mouth to cover up your obscene sounds as he pounds into you, unable to contain his hunger any longer. you're now locked in a position that allows him to manhandle and control you easily, body fully limp and putty in his arms, just the way he likes.

𐙚 DR. RATIO

a small smile adorns your lips as you stare straight ahead, looking out at the balcony and onto the stage where the musical is happening, clearly avoiding eye contact with your boyfriend who's burning holes through your head.

your hand inches up his thigh, nails scraping slightly with each movement, your own legs clench whenever you feel his muscles tense beneath the pads of your fingers.

an audible sigh could be heard from him when you palm him through his pants, a clear bulge forming under your hand, making your smile bigger. "someone's excited."

"shut up."

you giggle softly as your fingers wrap around the bulge, while your pointer finger draws slow circles on his clothed tip, a dark spot forming slowly on his pants from his arousal.

you yelp suddenly when you feel yourself stand and be placed into a forceful position. your elbows scrape on the table beneath you as you trying your best to stand steady on your legs all the while looking over your shoulder, a teasing smile on your face.

"what? can't take it already?"

ratio's eyes narrow at your comment before pushing down on the small of your back, making your body press harder onto the cold table surface.

something changes in the air when he huffs a laugh, his hands now gripping at your hips, holding you in place as he starts dry humping against you. he leans down, caging you beneath him as he slides one knee between your legs, and you know, you're in danger.

you squirm in his hold, hips inching forward, digging into the edge of the table, trying your best to run away, your fight or flight kicking in, knowing he isn't going to go easy on you for teasing him.

he pulls you back harshly, so hard you stumble back into his chest. "where do you think you're going?" this wipes the smirk off your face.

you shudder when he kisses down your nape to your shoulder blades, and all you could do was hold your breath, praying that he's not going to be too rough on you as punishment.

you could feel the smugness from the man behind you as he pulls himself out and slides into your panties, coating himself with your wetness, the tip sliding against your clit with each thrust.

now you're the one biting back moans, hands reaching backward to claw at his wrists, an indication that you want him to fuck you. ratio chuckles at your feeble attempt to command him, and he leans down again, this time nearer to your ear, never stopping his movements, sliding against your folds harshly.

"this is for fucking with me when you know you can't handle my teasing."

𐙚 GALLAGHER

as the curtains shut behind the two of you, you trip down the steps, pulling gallagher by his tie. your heels coming off with each step towards the display shelf at the side of the VIP room.

your grip on him strong, like a leash, leading the man before you to collide against your soft body as you lean on the shelf. one strap of your dress slips down your shoulder, a testament to your impatience to feel him against you.

gallagher's hands land on either side of your head, trapping you between the shelf and his body. the sheer size of this man completely envelops you, providing cover if anyone were to look for you behind him.

a giggle escapes you as he kisses your jaw and down to your collarbone. "couldn't wait till we got home?"

your head shakes as you bit your lower lip softly, head tilting upwards, silently inviting him to kiss you. he ignores your request, choosing instead to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead as he runs his hands along the curves of your body, eventually resting on your waist and hip.

you whine when he doesn't kiss you where you want him too, "just wanna feel you, daddy. please?" his smug smile widens at your plea before he pulls your lower body against his own, his bulge resting comfortably on your lower stomach.

"keep it down, okay? they're still out there."

you nod, and a soft " good girl" from him weakens your knees as you relax against his hold, allowing his hands to bunch your dress upwards, freeing himself from his restraints.

your gasps are swallowed by his hot mouth against yours, his thrusts slow and deliberate. your toes dig into the carpeted floor beneath you at the stretch. everything feels heightened knowing that the attendants outside the room could intrude any second and see this filthy scene adds to the pleasure.

gallagher pulls back, panting softly as he angles himself to your g-spot, only to kiss you harshly again, muffling your moans with his tongue. the mind-numbing sensations has you cumming around him almost instantly. you fall limp against him, but he doesn't give you a chance to rest, before propping you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, pounding into you roughly, chasing his own high this time.

"filthy little girl, moaning my name like that. you want them to catch us, don't you?"

𐙚 SUNDAY

a clear look of fear appears in your eyes as your back hits the wall next to the balcony, knowing you have nowhere else to run from the man standing before you.

sunday smiles as he approaches you, his hands reaching for the rope that controls the curtains' movements. "what're you planning to do with that?" the shakiness in your voice betrays you as you try to feign confidence, tilting your chin up slightly as your last resort to prove that you're not scared.

with a flourish, sunday twirls the golden rope in his gloved hands before yanking on it sharply, swiftly closing the balcony curtain. the dimly lit room takes on a more intimate aura as he reaches for your wrists, brushing his lips against them softly like a gentleman, although his eyes betray a predatory gleam that sends your knees weak.

"tug on it, and the whole grand theater will see you."

confusion flickers across your face at his warning, until you feel the bind of your wrists by the very rope he held.

drawing you closer by your waist, sunday twirls you around to face the deep red curtains as he slips his hand under your dress, inserting something cool into your heated core. a soft buzz sounds between your legs, causing you to instinctively lurch forward.

"sunday—!"

he silences your protest with a soft shush, his hands teasing your chest and clit while his hot mouth leaves hickeys on your neck. your arms remained raised slightly, fighting the urge to tug on the rope, knowing the consequences if the curtains do part.

soft cries leave your trembling lips as he increases the speed with a click of the remote in his pocket. leaning back against him, your body surrender fully, giving him full access to your body.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Crazy, What You’ll Do for a Friend

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: After Hotch gets hurt out in the field, you and the other members of the BAU take turns taking care of Hotch at his home. Reader want to make sure she can help Hotch in whatever way she can.

CW: Hotch having an attitude bc of course he does, sex fantasy, needy!Hotch, oral m!receiving, fingering

a/n: Hotch is literally the master of flirting when he isn’t at work I cannot with him, this is more short and sweet than most my stories

This is the other Fanfic from the poll!

READ PART 2

~~~

Reid answered the door. Bright smile on his face greeting you, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you smiled back at him.

“Come on in,” Reid moved out of the doorway allowing you to pass by him. You waited in the entry way for Reid to close the door.

“How is he?”

“Uhm— good. Mad that we’re here,” he laughed awkwardly.

You cocked an eyebrow, silently. A few weeks ago, Hotch had gotten caught up in the line of fire. Getting struck in his thigh and stomach. Lucky to not have bled out on the field. The day was a harsh memory that you refused to let go. Making sure to never let anyone else make the same mistakes as him again. Never feeling weaker than seeing him in the hospital bed. The Team had all agreed to take care of Hotch while he was on home rest. Taking shifts throughout the weeks.

You followed behind Reid into the living room.

“What are you doing here?” Hotch gritted through his teeth. Only wearing some loose fitting sweat pants and a tight white t-shirt. A strong contrast from his usual suit and tie. Straining as he attempted to get off the couch by himself. Reid rushed over to him, lifting him by his shoulder. Hotch swatted at the Doctor, attempting to jerk away.

“We’re all taking turns helping you. Guess I’m on Hotch Duty for tonight,” you shrugged your shoulders, giving him a closed mouth smile.

Hotch’s brows furrowed tightly, vein on his neck popping. “I don’t need help. What I need is to get back to work,” Hotch pushed Reid away as he finally got to his feet. Reid threw his hands up in a defensive position still close behind your boss.

“Yeah, it really looks like it,” you rolled your eyes as you folded your arms over your chest.

Hotch shot a chilling look your way, but you were unwavering. “I’m still your superior—“

“And right now I’m your caretaker. I’m sure Reid has been letting you boss him around, but I’m not going to let that happen. No offense, Spence,” you stated. Spencer waved his hand up to let you know he was not offended.

Hotch’s hand gripped the arm of the couch with a bruising strength. Barely able to hold himself up properly. A slight shake to his body. Angry that you, of all people, were talking to him this way. Fighting the way his heart swelled as soon as his eyes laid upon you in his living room today.

You and Hotch had grown close in the last few years. Growing into a mutual unspoken want for one another. Casually flirting when you were alone or not at work. Keeping each other company on extremely late nights at the office. Getting closer than you realistically should, given the field you worked in.

“Reid, you can go,” Hotch did not break eye contact with you.

“A-Are you sure—“

“We’ll be fine, Spence,” you smiled eyes locked in on Hotch’s.

Reid grabbed his bag and headed for the door, “If you guys need anything I’m only a text away.”

“Thank you,” you said still not breaking with Hotch. His deep brown eyes made your heart skip a beat. The wrinkles on his face as he attempted to intimidate made you blush. Not speaking until the door closed behind Reid.

“Are you gonna have an attitude with me all night?” You teased, cheeks beaming with heat. Hotch blew air out of his nose. Skin tightly pinched between his eyebrows. Refusing to speak to you. “Oh, come on. Your favorite boy is gone, you don’t have to keep up the mean-mug,” you walked over closing the space between you. Extending your arm out to him so that he could brace himself to walk.

His jaw clenched. Stubbornness being a strong suit of his. Hesitantly taking your offer of help. “Where are we heading?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Hotch grumbled.

Slowly, you assisted him to the bathroom tucked away next to his living room. Standing in the doorway as you allowed him to shimmy himself over to the toilet. Not even thinking of what you were doing, until Hotch gave you a strange look.

“Are you wanting to watch?”

Your face flooded. Stammering as you cupped your own cheek. Shaking your head with closed eyes. Smiling awkwardly, “Sorry—“

Hotch had to fight the smile that dared creep across his face. Enjoying how flustered you were. You reached in to pull the door shut. Leaning against the wall directly next to the bathroom. Hands gripping your hair in embarrassment as you replayed the moment over and over. Trying to cool the heat in your cheeks.

Straightening your posture when you heard the door click open. Greeting him with a soft smile and your arm extended. His brows were still pressed together. Lips in a thin line as he hooked his arm around yours. Leading him back into the living room so that he could get comfortable.

The night slipped away. Preparing dinner for your boss as he sat at the counter. Dying to get up. Hating to be taken care of. Denying the comfort he felt with you nestled in his home.

“Hotch, I can hear you bouncing your leg, cut it out,” you did not even look over your shoulder to give him eye contact. He scoffed, the sound of his leg subsiding.

“I know you hate all this. Really I do,” you softly spoke to him as you plated the food, “But all of us just want to see you get better. We want our leader back in his best shape. I want you to relax and let me take care of you.”

Hotch’s eyes watched every move you made. Stalking you like his prey as you brought the plate over to him. Expression unchanging, “How am I supposed to relax? There’s cases and I’ve been away so long already. I can’t stay cooped up here forever.”

“And you won’t. The sooner you take it easy, the sooner you can come back,” you flattened your hand against his shoulder. Hotch’s expression softened with your gesture. Swiftly directing his attention onto the food in front of him. Something about the interaction caused your cheeks to warm up. Unsure what that was about. Walking over to his fridge.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“Just water,” Hotch took a bite of food.

“Aw, you don’t wanna crack open a bottle of wine and reveal our darkest secrets to each other?” You teased, looking over your shoulder at him. Seeing his brows pushed together. Lips in a strong, straight line.

“Okay— tough crowd,” you widened your eyes as you closed the fridge. Going to grab a cup out of the cabinet to fill it for him. Walking over and taking the seat beside him. Silently eating dinner together. Guess you did not have much to talk about. And he was clearly in no mood to chit-chat.

“You’re a good cook,” Hotch broke the silence with a compliment.

“You’re telling me Reid didn’t prepare you a four coarse, perfectly diet-balanced meal while he was here?” You teased. Finally, breaking away Hotch’s hard shell. A soft chuckle coming from him. “I’m sure he would’ve had a slideshow to explain it all too,” you grinned.

“He wouldn’t need the slideshow, he could explain it all to me himself,” Hotch joked as he pulled the food from his fork. Feeling comfortable for the first time together. Allowing both your walls down. Sharing in your laughter.

You both finished your dinner. Taking the plates and putting them in the sink. Allowing Hotch to walk on his own to put his away. Standing beside him the entire time. You interlocked arms with him to lead him into the living room. Grunting as he sat down, eyes closing as he rested his head against the back.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I’ll do whatever you need to relax,” you smiled, standing in front of him.

Something about that seeped into his imagination. Feeling his cock jump when an imagine of you kneeled between his legs popped into his mind. With everyone here, he had not had any alone time. Needing to let out some of the things pent up inside him. Your lips wrapped perfectly around his cock—

“No,” Hotch blurted out. Aggression returning to him. Catching you off guard and causing a bit of frustration to bubble up inside you. You scoffed and headed into the kitchen to do the dishes, “Don’t try anything while I’m in there.”

Once you disappeared around the corner, he relaxed again. Clicking mindlessly through the channels on the TV. Trying to distract himself. Looking down at his half-hard cock. Embarrassed that he was thinking of one of his subordinates in the way he was. Still he allowed himself to fantasize.

Imagining how beautiful you would look sat upon his lap. Straddling his waist as you sunk down onto him. Thinking about how you would sound moaning his name when the head would hit somewhere just right inside you. Dying to know how perfectly he would fill you up. He needed something— anything from you.

Allowing his hand to softly touch his aching member. Only making things worse for him. His face contorted as he squinted his eyes shut. Mouth hanging open slightly.

God, he was such a pervert.

Jumping when he heard the water stop in the sink. Footsteps enclosing on the room. In the time you had done the dishes, you had calmed down from Hotch’s outburst. Knowing and rationalizing that he was going through a lot and sometimes he would be more vulnerable than others. Greeting him with a bright smile. Grabbing your bag off the kitchen chair, “Do you mind if I go change?”

“Of course not,” Hotch breathed out.

“I’ll know if you strain while I’m gone,” you smirked.

Hotch grinned back at you. Watching you until you faded away into the bathroom, door clicking behind you. Thank God he had one of the best poker face’s around. Finally allowing himself to breathe.

His erection pressed against the soft fabric of his sweats. Driving him absolutely insane. He pondered if he would have time to rub it out before you got back from changing. Softly playing with himself as he thought. Groaning at the feeling of his fingers trailing his length. Trying to control his breathing as to not make any overtly sexual sounds.

Oh, God, how he needed it. His cock pulsed with pure desire. Something he did not think his hand alone could fill. He felt pathetic. Preparing to ask you what he was going to.

The door creaked open. You came back to see him still in the same spot as before. He looked over his shoulder, eyes widening when he saw you. Wearing a loose fit t-shirt and some sporty shorts. Hair relaxed and quite a bit of skin showing.

“Hope you don’t mind, your house kinda runs hot,” you smiled, suddenly aware of his eyes on your body. Loving the attention he was giving. Blushing as his jaw hung open softly.

There were not many occasions where members of the BAU saw each other outside of work. Normally dressed in business attire, making sure to look extremely respectable and professional. Used to the button-ups and slacks. Not a shirt that perfectly hugged your chest and some shorts that were barely revealed under the length of your top.

As if he wasn’t hard enough already.

You sat on the other end of the couch beside him. Only a small pillow between your bodies. Legs crossing, causing your shorts to hike further up your thighs. Revealing the extra soft spots closer to your core.

“Anything good on?”

Hotch hesitated, “No.”

You widened your eyes at his short answer. Not sure what had gotten him so irritable in the last bit. Not wanting to push him. Choosing to stay quiet as you leaned against the arm of the couch. Watching some old sci-fi movie he had landed on. They were shooting out with some aliens. No telling what over, the movie was half way over by the time Hotch got to it.

The glow of the TV was all that illuminated the room. Flashes of colors dancing across your skin. Silently staring at the flat screen. Thinking about nonsense, just trying to feed your mind.

“Y/N,” Hotch began, hint of a break in his voice. You looked over at him. He had sweat beaming on his forehead. “You… you said earlier that you would help me in whatever way you could?”

You nodded, “Of course, Hotch. I’m here to please.”

His skin tingled. The innocent look behind your eyes pushing him even more on edge. He was silently opening and closing his mouth. Brows netted together as he breathed heavy. Tension so thick in the room neither of you could catch your breath.

“This is so inappropriate,” he softly chuckled to himself, stretching his neck, voice not above a whisper. Feeling your own heartbeat pound out of your chest. Hotch sighed, “I need to cum.”

Your eyes flew harshly open. Lips parting as you attempting to respond to him. Face immediately flushing with arousal as you clinched around nothing. Eyes shooting down to his crotch. Surprised to see the outline of his cock pressing against his pants. Thin, soft material not hiding his length.

“Either you can help me, or I need you to leave the room so I can handle it myself,” Hotch quickly said, desperation on his tone.

“Do you… want… me to-to help?” You shyly questioned.

Hotch smiled with an exhale. Perfect teeth on display for the first time tonight as he closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the couch. Blinking open to lock into you, “Yes.”

Such a simple statement. Causing so much confusion inside you. Of course, you had been flirting back and forth for some time now. And yes the idea of seeing Hotch’s cock, especially how it fit in your hand, had your body tingling.

But what about work?

What would your coworkers say? What would your superiors say? What if this was only for tonight?

You threw caution to the wind. Choosing to have some fun with him, even if you never spoke of this again.

You crawled closer to him on the couch, Hotch’s arm wrapping around your back when you sat on your knees. One of his hands coming up to grip at your t-shirt. Pulling the collar down with his finger and looking down it. Smiling at the sight of your lightly covered breasts. Blushing at how natural his hands felt on you. Leaning in to place your lips on his neck. Breath hitching in his throat at the soft feeling.

“Did you do this with all the other girls?” You asked between kisses, genuine curiosity and a bit of shame taking over your senses.

“Of course not,” Hotch exhaled, “You know it’s only you.”

You kissed up his jugular, resting along his jawline. Hotch’s smile never left his face as you feathered your lips along his skin. Hand running strong fingers up and down your back. Your own hand gently ghosting down his front to rest on his hard cock.

Hotch’s body twitched, causing him a small amount of pain. Wincing as he squinted his eyes. “I’m so sorry—“

“Don’t be,” Hotch’s hand came up to cup your cheek. Pulling you into a passionate kiss. Lightning stimulated your nerves at his taste and feeling. Both of you humming together. Tongue slipping past your lips as it grazed your teeth. Hunger apparent by the way he held onto you. Smiling as you became overwhelmed with emotions.

“What?” Hotch asked, unable to stop himself from returning your expression. Cheeks glowing.

“I just… just wanna know what’s got you all worked up?” pressing your lips back to his as your hand outlines his shaft. Hotch’s throat tightened at your touch. Breathy and clingy.

“I’ve been locked up here, not even a second of alone time, for weeks. And when you have nothing else to do, your mind wanders. And mine kept going to the same place time and time again,” toothy grin taking over his expression as he continuing caressing your face.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, not saying anything back.

“You’re going to tell me you don’t masturbate?” Hotch chuckled, an offensive hint on his tone.

Your face flooded red as you remembered the last time you had. Remembering the image of Hotch’s body above yours, strong arms flexing on either side of your head, hips pumping into yours as he held eye contact.

“I… um— yeah, I do. I have a vibrator in my night stand,” you kissed him again. Loving how his shaft hardened against your touch.

“Hmm,” he hummed against your lips, “Wish you’d brought it with you.”

“Hotch,” you giggled, playful embarrassment in your voice.

“I know you look so pretty when you orgasm,” Hotch smiled between kisses. Your heart thumped in your chest. Overwhelmed in the best way possible. Fingers continuing to lightly rub against his length.

“Probably really pretty with your mouth around my cock too,” Hotch’s hand held onto the back of your head. Keeping your mouth against his.

“God- you are needing aren’t you?” You chuckled into his mouth. The two of you shared in making flirtatious noises. Continuing to latch onto one another’s mouths. Slowly sliding into the floor between his legs. Fluttering your lashes up at him as you leaned forward to play with his waistband.

“Please,” Hotch squinted his eyes closed. Jaw tensed and Adam’s apple bobbing.

Slowly, you helped raise his hips so that you could pull his sweatpants down his legs. Taking your time to make sure he did not have to overwork his body. Mouth watering when you saw the tent pitched in his boxer-briefs. Flattening your hands against his thighs, framing his cock.

Hotch’s hand tethered in your hair, lust blown eyes admiring you below him. Moaning when your lips pressed a kiss against his clothed member. Freeing his cock from its confides. Taking in all the details. Thick and swollen, vein running over the top side as his head leaked. Tongue licking a stripe up the underside.

Hotch rutted forward, moaning loudly as he gripped the couch for stability. Head leaned forward to watch you. Your hand gripped him at the base. Stroking upward with a twist of your wrist. Thumb swiping over the slit to collect the precum. Loving how his velvety skin felt in your palm.

Tender lips kissed along his shaft before sucking on the head.

“Oh my God,” Hotch groaned. Trying his hardest to not move. Not wanting to take away from the pleasure by causing himself pain. His brows upturned and jaw hung open as he watched you go lower onto him.

Stopping when your nose met the soft hair at his base. Gagging around him momentarily. Taste of him overwhelming any other sense you had. Your tongue flattened underneath him as you began to bob. Almost completely coming off him before going down again.

“So good,” Hotch praised breathlessly. Causing your own arousal to pool inside you. Wishing you could crawling into his lap and take his cock inside you. Knowing his body was in no shape for that kind of physical activity.

Having him squirm from your mouth would have to do for now.

Hotch looked so beautiful with his face all flushed and shoulders heaving. Chest rapidly rising and falling as he audibly breathed. Your hand came up to wrap around his base once more, allowing your lips to meet your fingers with each movement. Causing you to move much faster than before.

“Y/N,” Hotch moaned.

Feeling his cock twitch between your lips. His end was nearing. Continuing at the pace you had given him. Sloppy sounds coming from your mouth as your tongue swirled around his length.

“I’m close,” Hotch breathed out. His veins on his neck poking out as he strained back. Sounds of him whimpering and grunting was like music to your ears. Salty taste filling your mouth as he approached his finish. Twisting your wrist and going down further on him. Coaxing him to his end.

Hotch’s hand gripped the back of your hand with strong fingers as he came. Breath hitching in his throat as his jaw hung open. Looking down to watch you swallow the ropes of cum he shot into your mouth. Hand traveling down to caress your cheek when he was done. Thumb rubbing circles into your flushed cheeks.

You caught your breath as you doed your eyes up at him. Smiling as you rested your head into his hand. Licking your lips to get any remnants of him off your face.

Hotch patted the seat beside him. Instructing you to come sit with him once more. You rested your head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your lower back. Grateful lips kissing your head.

Finding a position that was comfortable for you both as you rested your eyes. Engulfed by his body heat and musk. His heartbeat thumped against your ear. The day catching up with you as you relaxed.

“We can go lay in bed,” Hotch softly suggested.

You nodded. Standing to your feet to help him up. Shuffling down the hallway as Hotch limped holding onto you. Walking him over to his large mattress. Hotch smiled up at you, fingers holding onto your hand as you stood in front of him. Looking like a lovesick fool before you. Causing you to blush because it was you that had him looking like that. Smiling wider than you had ever seen him.

“Are you sure… that you want me in here? If you’d rest better, I can go—“

“Don’t even try,” Hotch grinned, pulling your hand to his lips and gently kissing. Tugging you into the bed with him. Landing directly beside him. Giggling as you snuggled under the blanket with him. Hotch’s lips kissed every piece of skin he could. Coating you in his love.

“That was the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” Hotch’s lips finally found yours. Smiling with a soft chuckle ending his sentence.

“Glad I could help,” you scrunched your nose up with a smile. His hand caressed your cheek again, dark eyes scanning your entire face. Seeing you this close for one of the first times. Finally taking the time to look at every freckle, blemish, scar, or any other beauty mark you had. Never having had someone look at you the way he was now.

Your eyes were growing heavy. Blinking slowly until a yawn came over you. Rolling over to allow Hotch to hold you from behind. Closing your eyes as the plush of his pillows captured you.

His hand snaked around your front. Causing your chest to tighten when you felt him prying at your shorts. His nose trailed the valley of your neck and shoulder. Fingers going down the front of your panties.

“Aaron…?“

“Let me repay you,” Hotch whispered into your ear.

“You don’t owe me anything,” you sighed when his fingertips swiped over your sensitive bud.

“If I can’t fuck you, let me make you cum around my fingers,” Hotch’s deep voice vibrated into your skin. Fingers finding their way into your soaked folds. Circling them before inserting one. Causing you to arch into him and moan. A hum of approval came from him.

Curling his finger inside you as he massaged your insides. Thumb pressing into your clit. Shooting electricity through your veins. Your hand coming up to tangle in his hair. Locks lacing through your fingers. Your jaw hung open at the feeling of him adding an additional digit. Stretching you perfectly.

“Aaron,” you moaned, Hotch held your hand above your head. Fingers gently interlocking with yours while the air from his lips casted across your skin.

“Go ahead, I want to hear you,” Hotch kissed your shoulder.

You moaned at his words.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he cooed.

That familiar knot was tightening in your lower half. Hotch knew how to use his fingers. Causing your thighs to quiver and body to jolt. Sounds of him breathing filling your ears, sounding intoxicated by you. Never wanting you to leave his side.

You felt your pussy clench around his fingers. Insides growing more and more sensitive when he would hit the spongy spots.

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

You nodded aggressively. Whining as you rolled your hips against his fingers. Feeling his semi-hard cock press into your ass. Sweat dripped down your skin. Your heartbeat was in your ears as you felt your orgasm washing over you. Walls fluttering around Hotch’s fingers. Moaning his name like a mantra. Grinding down on his hand as your thighs shook.

Hotch smiled against your skin. Loving how you sounded begging and calling out to him. Wishing he could fuck you senseless. Wanting nothing more than to fill you up.

“I knew you’d look pretty orgasming,” lips kissed your cheek. You breathed heavily, grinning at his cocky voice. Rolling over to press your lips into his. Arms wrapping around his neck. Finally finding yourself the most comfortable you had been yet.

Drifting to sleep in his arms.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate all the love I’ve gotten since writing for Hotch and love seeing everyone reply and comment and everything! As always, my requests are open! I have a Rossi x Reader planned in the next few days that was requested so keep an eye out for that! //

{tags}

@bondwithme-murderstyle ~ @mrs-ssa-hotch ~ @cherriready ~ @khxna ~ @justyourusualash ~ @boybandbaby ~ @hoffmanfan13 ~ @megangovier

[dreaisgrayte]

Half Blood | Muzan Kibutsuji x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, TW! YN does get assaulted, mentions of blood, drinking blood, gore, how many times do I mention claws? Oral fem!receiving, fingering, kissing, breeding kink, virgin sex, creampie, and overstimulation.

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: guys this started off as a quick break from a Sanemi fic I'm working on (keep in mind I think short fics are no longer than 3k) and here I am... with a way longer fic than I intended and something I actually want to expand on in the future. It was a lot of fun to write this so I hope you enjoy it <3

“You,” His pink irises are illuminated by the moon high in the night sky. The blood within your body cools as you stare back at the man who stored your fate. His inky black hair flows down his shoulder in waves. A deep blue yukata loosely hung on his frame. “I’ve been watching you.” Muzan growls, edging ever closer to where you stood. His pointed canines glinted in the light, his nails sharp and ready to claw at your jugular. The demon king rolls his tongue along the tips of his teeth, studying you carefully. Was he deciding whether or not to feast upon your flesh?

He had never seen such a creature as yourself. Your skin was glowing, soft, and supple. The lavender color yukata covered most of your body, a delicate pattern of white flowers spanning the kosode fabric. Your obi was white with purple vines flowing around it. You wear simple white tabies paired with purple strapped zori. Elegance and grace radiated from you. He could smell the wisteria perfume in your hair. 

It was strange, you were a confrontation to the world he wanted to live in – yet something he could not tear his eyes away from. Here you were, standing in front of him without fear. He rather thought it would be better fun if you were afraid, he did so enjoy the chase. Though, there was – of course – a reason you relented in running away from him. Your eyes were stormy, eclipsed by thousands of emotions. That’s when a different smell, that had not yet hit him, tickled his nose. Blood, and not just any blood. You had the blood of a demon in you. Your stern, furrowed brows, with the revolting smell of wisteria burning his nose. You confused him. “What are you?” He purs out, not sure if what would come out of your mouth would be a lie or truth. He could always figure it out for himself one way or another. 

Your lip ticks, a show of annoyance you’d yet to master. The man in front of you knew, he could smell it, of that you were sure. Yet, he dared ask. What are you? You’d been told many times what you were. An abomination. A curse. A monster. “Are you not the demon king?” You spit back, growing angry. Would the other half of you reject your existence as well? You had hoped at least the demons would have the scarce bit of comradery running through their systems. Muzan’s brows lift, then knit together. Did he need to answer you? After all, he could easily swipe at your neck to kill you for being so insolent. The eager need to hear what you had to say captivated him though. 

When the man does not answer you tut, crossing your arms over your chest. “Here I thought the mighty demon king would be able to tell me apart from the rest.” You shake your head, laughing stiffly into the night. In a flash Muzan has you pinned to the trunk of a tree. Splinters etch toward your face from the very force of his hand. His muscular body cages you in and it takes you a moment to realize how your body aches to be near him. 

“I can smell you,” He mutters, squinting his beautiful eyes like he couldn’t quite distinguish what he was looking at. “You assault my senses, it’s driving me mad. There’s something different about you.” Muzan had first observed you walking in your village one evening, the way people sneered and cowered at your presence intrigued him. He found himself looking for you every night, wondering what your story was. These villagers were shunning you. He wished to know why such a pretty thing as yourself would be outcasted in her own village. “You smell like me, yet you are not. So I ask you again, what are you?” His voice is low, edging on the precipice of anger. 

You do not yield in holding his gaze. “I am you, yet I am not. Born of the sun and moon. A half-blood.” 20 years ago your mother found herself in the entertainment district, serving the pleasures of others. A man came to visit her on multiple occasions. Eventually, the two ran away together. Sharing in love and secrets. Your mother was a demon and your father a local carpenter. How you were able to be conceived was a mystery, even to them. They lived in peace, until one night. The villagers had finally seen through your father’s lies, storming their house. They slaughtered both of them and assuming you were a child taken captive, they whisked you away to a widowed mother. As you grew it was obvious where your origins lay, yet no one in the village dared to lay a hand on you. 

Muzan lets his gaze drop to where your heart pulsed, bouncing the skin of your jugular. “You are human and demon?” Something pulled tight in his chest. Could you walk in the sun? Did you regenerate? Were you the answer to his plight? “You are radiant.” He cannot stop the words from falling past his lips. Your eyes light up with recognition, acceptance, and for a moment your past falls away. He had the ever-growing urge to sweep you away. Your very existence was tantalizing to him in the least. He tilts his head, wrinkling his nose at the obscure way you smelt. 

Your eyes settle on the way he reacts to you, wondering if he’ll take you away someplace. Some place away from these villagers who had slaughtered your parents who just wanted to live in harmony. They did not deserve to die and you did not want to live one more second with their murderers. Muzan wanted to take you, but he couldn’t. Not yet. You were so fragile. If he were to touch you he would fear you would break on the spot. “Are you going to take me away from this place?” You whisper, hopeful tones floating to Muzan. He swallows something deep and thick. 

Muzan backs away from you, eyes tensing. “No.” He replies softly. He could not take you into his den, the other demons were too stupid to realize how precious you were. You would be dead within seconds. The line between your brows hardens again as his words hit you. 

“No? Why not? Am I not good enough for you?” Your voice is rising. You sound like a whining child who hasn’t gotten their way. Muzan winces at the obvious pain seeping into your voice. You were nothing like he’d ever seen before. Something beautiful, a miracle in his eyes. Therefore, he did not answer you. He simply faded back into the shadows. With his disappearance, your hopes and dreams faded as well.

—

The next time you see Muzan is two years later. His hair is shorter than you last saw it, the curls kissing the nape of his neck. This neat look couldn’t contain the loose curls that framed his face. A starched white collar shirt was tucked into an ornate waistcoat. He looked utterly different, yet he was your Muzan. He had the same eyes, the same far-off look, and on top of that, you could practically taste his scent. It was overwhelming, crushing even, but in a way, you enjoyed the rush. 

It was also a fact that you had escaped your village after one of the men tried to see how strong a half-blood was. He told you he was turned on by how revolting you were and he would take you as his wife in duty only. Until then you had never seriously thought about killing a human. The realization was both terrifying and freeing. So you fled to the entertainment district, living off of what you could at the Kyogoku House. There were so many smells here. Food, humans, sex, and demons. 

You worked under a beautiful oiran, and you could tell… she wasn’t human. Part of you wanted to become friends with her, but if she hadn’t reached out for the sake of commonality, you didn’t think there was a chance of any other relationship than servant. 

Muzan’s brows furrowed. He had come to visit Daki and yet your scent prosecuted his brain. Ever since he left you in the forest that day he had been thinking of a way to retrieve you. You were too precious to let out of his sight again. This time he would secure you. He could feel his blood boil at the thought of you living in the Ukiyo. Kyogoku House was well protected, but anywhere without him wasn’t safe for you. Were you being used by men far beneath you? Muzan had never felt such rage toward the thought of men touching a woman. He often indulged in watching, humans were ever so entertaining – but you weren’t human. You were one of his and he swallowed harshly at the fact that you weren’t only his. 

He brushes past some of the lower-ranking courtesans, his eye twitching at their giggles. You watch from afar, the familiarity of his back etching a cold ache into your heart. He would leave again, of that you were sure. You hug the fresh sheets to your chest, making your way to the linen closet down the hall. “Ah, YN, I’ve been looking for you.” The Okaasan Omitsu stands before you. She has a cunning sneer behind the kind smile she wears. 

You bow, storing the sheets away before turning your full attention to her. “Yes Okaasan?” You can smell the evil intent behind this woman, it makes your stomach sink. 

“You wouldn’t mind doing me a favor would you?” She uses the word favor like you’d have a choice. She is the Okaasan after all. It’s like she thinks you’re some stupid girl that will follow whatever she says. Using the word favor is a manipulation tactic and if you were a naive girl, you would be eating out of the palm of her hand. 

You tilt your head to the left, plastering a fake smile of your own onto your lips. You knew anything out of your mouth except ‘yes Okaasan’ would make things harder for yourself. So with all your better judgment pushed aside, you say exactly that. 

Her eyes gleam. “Thank you, my dear. If you will kindly follow me.” She walks back up the hall, toward one of the private Ozashiki rooms. You glance around, nerves settling into your bones. You couldn’t be headed into one of these rooms, you weren’t even a kamuro. You were just an older shinzō. 

She stops in front of the panel, a cruel smile lifting the corners of her mouth. No, please, not this. “You are very blessed my dear, one of our chūsan is interested in you.” She slides the door aside and sitting against a wall smoking a pipe is a middle-aged man. Cushions are scattered around the floor and a twisted smirk plays with his mouth when he sees you. Okaasan bows then slides the door shut behind you. 

The room was stifling, the smoke choking out any of the senses you had. It was dizzying. “Mmm, you’re a lot older than I thought.” The man sneers, setting his pipe down. The fog of opium seemingly wraps around your throat, making it hard to breathe. “But you’ll do.” He laughs, patting the cushion next to him. “Why don’t you come a little closer?” He offers. Your body tenses. You were in danger, of that you were sure. You were not willing to give your virginity up to such a man but if you denied him the right to your own body, there would be outrage. You swallow, tentatively kneeling on the cushion next to him. 

He leans over you, sniffing the area around your shoulder. You stiffen. “You smell so good, better than all those flora bitches.” He growls. “I like your natural…musk.” Oh Gods did this man – who probably has a wife and children – just compliment how you smell when you’ve been working all day? “What do you like about me?” What a loaded question. 

You smile, one that shuts your eyes – if he saw the look in your eyes he’d be sure to know you were lying when you said, “I appreciate your generosity.” You bow your head and the man laughs heartily. 

His tongue darts out to coat his lips. “I can be more generous if you’d like?” He moves himself closer to you. “I was blessed with wealth, good looks, and a tool to make women scream.” Please let the tool be an ice pick so you can lobotomize yourself. “Whad’ya say, darling?” He coos, going in for what appears to be a kiss even though you hadn’t been given the time to answer him. 

You grimace away from his advance, shoving at his chest. The eerie playful tone in the room suddenly seems to vacuum out. The fog is still thick from the burning opium, but you don’t miss the way the man before you lunges for you. He’s panting above you with a charming pointy sneer. “Ah ah ah, not so fast. You haven’t serviced me, whore.” He digs his nails into your shoulder, pinning you to the wooden floor. “Look at you, begging for my cock with your eyes, ooohh you want it that bad you slut?” He hisses, fumbling with the buckle of his Western-style pants. You squirm wildly under his grasp but it’s like he’s infused with superhuman strength. “I’m gonna fuck you and then, as your reward,” His face is next to yours now, eyes glowing an electric yellow, pupils in slits. “I’m going to kill you.” His hand is on your throat, crushing your windpipe. You choke on what little air you were able to breathe earlier. 

A demon, this man was a demon. One of your kind. No… he wasn’t. He was something else. He was driven by the carnal desire to fuck and kill. You were too weak to push him off, your internal forces constantly warring against each other. You had always presented as human, meek, malleable, and obedient. What you would give to have your demon side come forth, bite this fucker’s head off. You want to scream – but on account of his claws sinking into the back of your neck – if you even moved that would surely be the end of your life. 

He tears your yukata to shreds, ripping the soft skin of your stomach open as well. Your mouth opens the pressure of a scream pushing against his hand. Blood mixes with the tattered cloth, the cotton dying red.

Muzan pauses, Daki grumbling about some inferior human drama. His eyes search the room, this time Daki taking notice from her self-indulged rant. Where was that smell coming from? He stands, silencing Daki before she can start whining again. The potent smell of blood was swirling to the top floor, but not just…any blood. “YN,” He hisses, the annoyance, rage, and blood-boiling sensations he felt earlier returning tenfold. Why were you bleeding? This was fresh cut blood, not from the dues women endured every month. He needed to find you, or he feared the worst. “I need to go.” He barely says to the demon next to him. Her face morphs into one of anger, and before she can hurl anything at him, Muzan slips out of her room. Where were you? He follows the pungent scent, clambering down the stairs and rushing down the hall until he’s in front of a private room. He’s sweating, for once fear is humming in his ear. He shoves the door to the side, witnessing a demon hunched over your body. 

Your blood is pooling around you dying the wonderfully blue yukata you wore earlier a sickly brown color. The demon doesn’t have time to look up because Muzan is already crushing its head, slashing its throat to shreds of what it once was. 

The room is covered in blood but the demon is dead. Muzan slides to the floor, cradling you in his lap. “YN, no, no please don’t die.” You were his miracle. You were his hope. If anything could save his damned soul it would be you. His arms are trembling as your stomach bleeds out, the skin marred, and…God the smell of your blood was driving him mad. It was something he shouldn’t be thinking about as you bleed out under him. You needed to regenerate. He wasn’t sure if you could so maybe your demon just needed a little push?

With his free hand, Muzan tears the flesh from his arm, bringing it down to your mouth. His blood trickles onto your lips, sliding into your mouth. After a few silent beats, your eyes shoot open. Muzan has never felt such joy as this very moment. Your arms wrap around his, bringing it into your mouth. Muzan hisses at the way your tongue dances around his wound, lapping up the blood he shed for you. You’re panting, gasping for more. Your eyes glow as you drag your tongue up the muscle of his forearm. His blood flows through you like your own life force, strengthening your nerves, hardening your muscles. He has made you stronger. 

It sends a pinch of desire through Muzan. He hadn’t felt the heat of wanting to sink his cock into the warmth of a cunt in decades. You were mouthing at his arm, wounds healed on both ends, but now that you were moving the once whole yukata falls off your shoulders. Blood trails from your lips down your chest, between your breasts. Muzan was never one to fend off his desire to want. He took whatever he wanted, without a care. He wanted to take you without a care. Fuck you senseless into the floorboards, claw at you, feed on your blood while you fed on his. It was ecstasy just imagining driving his cock into your pretty tight pussy. 

“I should’ve never left you.” He whispers and it sends a rolling wave of want through you. You move to straddle his lap. 

“Then don’t leave me now.” You could both smell it, the heat and arousal in the air. “Take me, my Lord.” He smirks, holding onto your thighs. 

He hums, enjoying the way you’re bare in front of him. You were a sight to behold. “Mmm, such a smart girl.” A portal opens underneath him, the wooden floor sinking into an expanse of rooms, platforms, doors, lights, and endless corridors. The sheer speed whips your hair around your face until – it doesn’t. You’ve stopped in the middle of whatever this place was. “Welcome home,” Muzan’s pink eyes darken to a deep crimson as he sits up straighter, pressing himself into you. You moan in delight as his hands work their way up your hips, sitting you down on the stiff part of his lap. 

You tilt your head, peeking at him. “I’ve never liked pants,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his. He chuckles his smirk growing. 

“And why is that?” He inquires, moving his tongue to lick up the blood that has traveled toward your navel. You choke out a moan as he makes his way between your breasts. You can feel his teeth against your skin and it’s a wretched thought. “Aheh,” He swipes at the crest of your breast. 

“H-hard to get off.” Muzan hums against your skin in agreement, but he’s too preoccupied with the way you tremble with untapped pleasure. 

He wants to tear into your flesh, mark you as his, burn only his name onto your tongue. “Such an eager kitten,” He licks his lips, capturing the back of your neck in his hands. “You want me bare that badly?” All you can manage is a small nod as he gingerly moves you so that you’re laying down. Your hips are still lined up with his as he gazes at you. “I can promise you I have a similar urgency.” He grins, pulling the belt from his breeches with a smooth movement. He tosses it to the side, but doesn’t make any more movements to pull his pants down. Muzan notices your heated gaze pointed toward his hardened groin. 

Did you know nothing about the workings between a man and woman? His eyes trail down your body, stopping at the apex of your thighs. He wraps his arms around the bend of your knee, smirking when your eyes widen in surprise. He tugs you upwards, to where your legs are over his shoulders. Being this close to your glistening pink cunt made his groin stiffen even more, if that was possible. The smell of you was intoxicating. He couldn’t help himself. “What a fucking view.” He growls. 

Muzan buries his head between your thighs, latching his mouth onto your swelling clit. You gasp in pleasure, breaths turning into ragged moans as he plunges his tongue deeper into you. “O-oh my God, f’ck, ngh.” With the way his tongue his twisting and sucking inside of you, breathing seemed impossible. His claws dig into your outer thigh, scratching red trails to your knees. He devours every bit of you he can reach, crazed by the tangy sweetness of your arousal. Your walls were squeezing around his tongue, heat running through your body. 

Your own hands find your stiff nipples, rolling them around in your fingers. You couldn’t get enough, it was the same feeling you received from drinking his blood. Heat rolling around in your veins as his eyes take in your puffy cunt and how your eyes roll to the back of your head. He maneuvers one hand from under your knee to the one place that was being ignored on you – your entrance. It was like the gate to a shrine and he wanted to worship there for eternity. “Look at how fucking wet your cunt is.” His pointed nails shape into shorter rounder ones, he dare not damage this holy place. Then, without warning, he presses two fingers into you. A yelp echoes across the void of the infinity castle. “Ahhh, shit,” You huff, tensing from the sensation of your pussy being stretched. 

Muzan knew you were a virgin, he would be lying if the fact didn’t make him grow more feral to have you sit on his cock and take his seed deep within you. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you. That was all he could think about while lapping up your wetness. 

The slick from your cunt was sucking his fingers in, a growl rumbling around your clit. This makes you scream out as a shockwave shoots through you. Your thighs are shaking and every once and a while – as Muzan still selfishly fingers you through your climax, sucking on your clit – your body will twitch. Heavy and heady moans fall from your lips, breaking into whines as you come down from your high. 

“You did such a good job my sweet,” Muzan lowers you gently back to the floor. Your neck is sore from being at an awkward angle for so long, but you would give anything to see the disheveled man before you with your arousal still on his lips. “That’s it. Prefect. You’re so perfect.” He mutters, licking his lips and watching you still play with your nipples. 

Though you feel like you’ve just ascended, you crave more. You want Muzan to breed you like his own personal slut. “M-more,” You gasp. “I feel so empty my Lord.” You huff, the edges of your voice bleeding to a whine. Muzan’s eyes widen. He hadn’t intended to fuck you just yet. Give you some time to grow accustomed to sexual things so it wasn’t rushed, but your eyes are pleading him to continue. He’s… nervous, which isn’t like the demon king. He’s so eager to please you. Make sure you’re comfortable. He wants to give you hell, heaven, and the earth. 

“You’re practically begging me.” He chuckles, unsure if you really knew what you were asking. There was no way that once Muzan slid into your heady cunt that he would not ravish you. There was no way to tell time in the infinity castle, so there was no way for him to know when to stop until he was satisfied. You squirm to get closer to him, spreading your legs wide for him. His gaze drops from yours to your center, whatever shred of humanity that was left in him suddenly flying away. “Such a filthy slut. You’re already hungry for more? You want me to fill you up? Then beg for it.” His eyes narrow into slits, the magma growing in his belly. 

Your body cools with a shiver of excitement, as you reach down in between your thighs. You purse your lips and then spread your labia apart. The cool air tickles the sticky wetness but you can tell it’s doing something for him. “Please, my King, I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t think. I want you to take my virgin pussy and make it yours.” 

The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “As you wish my Queen.” He frees his cock and you have to take a moment to gulp at the sheer size of it. The head is leaking precum and bruised a red color from the lack of release. The shaft is a pale pink, a thick vein running down the underside. The muscles of his hips also catch your attention. They were unlike the drawings some of the courtesans had shown you. His were muscular, ready to thrust into you for hours. 

Muzan lines himself up at your entrance, this time with the head of his cock. The idea was thrilling, finally pushing into your pussy and breaking the barrier of your womanhood. He hisses as your slick coats him, making it easy enough to start entering you. Your face contorts with a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Shhh, you can take it.” You want to wiggle away from him, the pain of his member stretching you out is enough to break you. “Ah ah ah, you’re not going anywhere pretty girl. Remember you asked for this.” Muzan leans over you seizing your mouth with his own. You share a leisurely kiss as he swallows your moans. 

He feels the head of his cock hit your hymen and with a wince he thrusts past it. He can feel the rush of silky blood around his cock, but he tries his best to divert your attention with heated kisses. You break free, a long drawn out moan gasping out of you. “Ahhh, oh my, hngh nngh yes!” 

Muzan nuzzles into your neck, the feeling of your walls clenching around him driving him practically insane. “Yeah? Tell me how good I am. Tell me how good I am at fucking you.” He hisses out, desperate for your compliments and approval. 

“Nnnggh, s’good, f’ckin’ me s’good.” You slur, drunk on how he guided a new path into you. You pant and writhe under him, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Not yet my love, I want you to watch.” He starts to move his hips and you wince in burning pleasure. “That’s it. You’re doing so good.” He grunts, snapping his hips back into you. The wet slap of skin hitting skin sends shivers down your back. 

You’re straining against the build up in your stomach, a pit of coils wanting to spring forth. “Mmm, harder.” You huff, reach out to grab the back of his neck. He shakes his head, a playful smirk on his swollen lips. 

“Use your manners.” He teases, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Please fuck me harder.” You mewl just as he starts to thrust into you with a quickened rhythm. Your breath is sucked away by the pure bliss aching from the friction. 

Muzan bites down on his lip, brushing a few curls that had come free from behind his ear. “You like it when I do that?” He quizzes, fucking you harder. You can only manage a nod.

Your voice has grown hoarse from moans breaking into screams and whines. You buck your hips along with his as you arch your back, tumbling over your peak. “F’ck, haa haa hnngh,” You squeeze his cock and release his neck, breathless from your second orgasm. 

“Cum all over my cock, fuck,” Muzan growls, the feeling of your slick cum coating his length. He was gliding into you with such ease. He would apologize to you later for this. He pounds into your sensitive cunt, overstimulating you as you cry out. He rams himself into you and stays deep within your pussy. Panting heavily Muzan finally crashes over his own wave of pleasure. Splurting his cum around the walls of your pussy. He doesn’t want to pull out – for one fact he wanted all of his cum to stay within you – and for another fact, you were all the salvation he needed. He could find redemption with you. He rolls you both onto your side, hiking your leg over his hip to make sure he can stay inside of you. 

This was it, you had driven him to the edge and he would make sure to never let anything else touch you. As he gazes upon your soft features drifting off to a satisfied slumber he feels what once was his heart ache. “We should get married.” He blurts out.

[svtswhorehouse]

XOXO, YOON JEONGHAN

pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader genre: mdni, smut, gossip girl au warnings: mean dom! jeonghan, rich girl! reader, blackmail, seungcheol is reader’s ex, finger sucking, a very short shoe riding scene, hair pulling, face slapping, crying, degradation, humiliation kink, pussy slapping, fingering, begging, squirting, masturbation, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, rough sex, minor dumbification if you squint. word count: 9.3k synopsis: with your it girl reputation on the line in regards to the latest gossip girl blast, you have no other choice but to own your mistakes and fall at the feet of the very person behind your impending doom.

rip georgina sparks, yoon jeonghan would’ve loved you.

“You.” 

“Me.” He smirked, leaning back against the sofa. He swirled the dark liquor around in his glass, taking a sip as he maintained eye contact above the rim. His gaze was cruel and devious. He had the upper hand and he knew it too.

Maybe this was another one of his mind games. It was sick and twisted — right up his alley. You had always considered Jeonghan a friend; or at least enough to know just how many strings he could pull and the lengths he would go to so he could get his way.

“No.” You shook your head, refusing to believe the truth. It was plain out in front of you, still difficult to comprehend. 

Raising an eyebrow, he found it hard not to laugh. “Yes.” 

Gossip girl was in fact, not a girl. Gossip girl was Yoon Jeonghan. The very man, one in which you grew up with, was the same person who had been tormenting you and your friends throughout the past couple of years. 

You had always known the blog had to have belonged to someone heavily involved in your life. He just so happened to be one of the last people you expected. 

You should have known better. You should have known never to underestimate Yoon Jeonghan.

“B-but,” You were at a loss for words, “Why?” 

Why was he Gossip Girl, why was he doing this to his friends, why had he targeted you, and most importantly — why was he threatening to release your nudes on the internet? 

It was perfectly orchestrated. Jeonghan had somehow managed through one of your old flings, (and a desperate attempt to rule out your flooded thoughts about your ex), to get his hands on some very compromising photos of you — pussy out and on display for all of Seoul to see.

The man sitting down before you chuckled. He owed you nothing, least of all an explanation as to the devious website he created to publicly humiliate anyone and everyone he’s ever crossed paths with. However, after tonight and what was to come, he figured a brief explanation wouldn’t be so bad. “Seungcheol.” He stated firmly, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What?” Your breath hitched at the name. Seungcheol — the man who you gave your heart to all these years and unfortunately the man who you broke the heart of just two weeks ago. 

Jeonghan saw you fumble, the small flash of sadness and vulnerability on your face before covering it up. He almost felt bad — keyword, almost. Nevertheless, although he had grown to see you as an acquaintance over time, his loyalty had always belonged to Seungcheol. In some sort of unhinged and evil way, this was his payback when it came to breaking his best friend’s heart.

However, if you dig a little deeper; perhaps into the manipulative scheming mind of Yoon Jeonghan — unknown to you, this was also payback for all those nights he was forced to sit there and listen to Seungcheol drone on and on about your sex lives. How you still seemed so classy and composed even behind closed doors, it pissed him off; it made him so completely angry even though he knew it shouldn’t.

“Wow.” He would say to Seungcheol every single time with the word vanilla plastered across his mind, whilst really in the back of it; he was determined to make a complete and utter mess out of you one day. 

And that day had finally come.

Jeonghan chuckled, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Don’t play dumb.” 

It was amazing, really. You always managed to dance around anything you might be at fault for, but this time, you had nowhere to run. No. Jeonghan had cornered you and now it was inevitable. 

“Please.” Your voice was hoarse, and although the last thing you wanted to do was beg him of all people, desperate times call for desperate measures. “I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything?” One of his eyebrows shot up in amusement. He still had that look on his face — the kind that you were so tempted to slap off. He didn’t believe you one bit, you were sure of it. 

Nodding in confirmation, you dug your nails into the palm of your hands to release silent frustration. “Anything.” You repeat, this time much firmer than the last.

Jeonghan kept his eyes settled on you longer than you would have liked. You stood strong under his gaze, making sure your breathing remained steady. Clearing his throat, he set his glass down with a clink. “Oh angel.” His voice dripped with condescension as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” 

A lump began to form in your throat, the reality of your situation kicking in. What were you getting yourself into? Maybe it would be better to just leave before it’s too late, but you had made your own bed and now you have to lay in it.

As soon as you caught sight of the new Gossip Girl blast — one that entailed your raunchy photos were now in someone else’s hands and waiting to be sent out into the world, you were quick to drop everything you were doing. Your fingers hit send before you could process your actions, let alone properly form a plan. You had already sent a tip to the website, asking — no. Pleading, for the person behind the screen to show you mercy before your entire reputation was ruined.

Atlas, here you are, standing face to face with a menace otherwise known as Yoon Jeonghan. 

The silence was unbearable. Both of you refused to break eye contact and you could see the corner of his mouth tilt up in a slight smirk at your determination. You were beginning to look pathetic and that was exactly how he wanted you to feel. The mission was already halfway accomplished. The embarrassment and blackballing you would face from the people around you stumped your pride tremendously. 

“Okay.” He stated, realizing you weren’t going to back down. Jeonghan leaned back in his seat, cocking his head at you. “Strip.” 

The word took you by surprise and you shot him a look of disbelief. He could not be serious. There was no way. 

“What are you, deaf?” He scoffed after you had taken too long.

“I-,” You stuttered, your brows furrowing at him. “No!” 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, getting up from his seat although making no moves to walk closer to where you were standing. “Don’t waste my time. You were the one that said you would do anything.” 

“W-well yes, but,” You were at a loss for words, “I didn’t think you would mean this.” 

He snickered at you, finding your statement hilarious. You should have never put anything past him, after all, he did come from one of the city’s most favored and wealthiest of families. With just the snap of his finger, he could get anything and everything he’s possibly ever wanted — even the chance to ruin you. 

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, whipping his phone out. The screen cast a dim light over his face as it was turned on, but his eyes remained set on you the entire time. He watched as your expression shifted and you connected the dots, realizing he was only seconds away from posting the photos on the website. 

With widened eyes, you held your hands up, slightly lunging forward but maintaining distance between the two of you. “Wait!” 

A smug look plastered across his features. He knew he had you trapped. He sat back down in his seat, giving you some time to think over the ultimate decision — one that would either break you or spare you.

The criticism and dirty looks you would be forced to face if those pictures got out would be unbearable. Living your lavish lifestyle would soon come to an end when your parents disown you after they are released. Not to mention, everyone you have ever known would refuse to be associated with the city’s newly proclaimed “whore.” There goes your friends, your family, and your future.

So what was it going to be? Bare your pussy for Yoon Jeonghan, or bare your pussy for the entire city.

It was a cruel world, but inevitably, the only one you’ve ever known.

As the next words left your mouth, you thought you were going to be sick. “I’ll do it.” You managed to say, fighting the tears that threatened to leave your eyes in humiliation and defeat. “Just…don’t post them.”

Jeonghan’s face twisted in amusement, almost as if he didn’t expect you to give in so easily. Tucking his phone away, he tilted his head at you. “Well,” He said, “Better make it quick, I don’t have all night.”

You fought the urge to tell him off. You were stupid, yes, – for sending those nudes in the first place, but you weren’t dumb enough to piss him off, especially when the ball was in his court. 

Refusing to look at him, your hands reached behind your back for the zipper of your dress. Your gaze was fixated on the ground as you tugged it down slowly, not wanting to fully embrace the current situation you had gotten yourself into.

If word got out about this, Seungcheol was going to be pissed. At Jeonghan, you wish you could say, but the hard truth was that most of his anger would be directed towards you. First, you broke up with him out of the blue, and now here you were about to let his best friend use you in a way that you never allowed him to even after many years spent together.

Maybe you really were a slut after all.

Jeonghan tutted in disapproval, capturing your attention. You snapped your head up, wondering what more he could possibly seek from you. “I want your eyes on me.”

You bit your tongue, wanting to scoff but deciding against it. He nodded, urging you to continue your actions. Clutching the straps of your dress, you slid them down your arms. The fabric, now loose on your body, fell to the floor almost immediately much to your dismay. You stepped out of the pool around your ankles, picking it up straight away and placing it on the hotel bed. God forbid, it was a one-of-a-kind designer piece and although what you were engaging in was dirty – that doesn’t mean the dress should be as well.

Jeonghan scoffed at your behavior. You’re the only person he knows that would find yourself in a position like this, yet still act the same; like you were better than everyone else. He was determined to go to extreme lengths to change that. 

As you stood there, not knowing what to do, the man shook his head at you. “Continue.” He said as if it was something you should have already known. “When I said strip, I meant all of it.” 

You wanted to cry; to scream; to rip your hair out in frustration, but you had no other choice than to oblige. Unhooking your bra, you inhaled shakily before you removed it from your body. Your hands instinctively shot up to cover yourself, but with a sharp look from Jeonghan, they went to rest on the sides of your lace underwear instead. You bit the inside of your cheek as you pulled them down, the last of your dignity washing away as you tossed them on the bed. 

Jeonghan let out a low whistle as soon as you were bare for him. Sure he had already seen most of you, at least through a screen that is, but it was all the more different seeing it in person. “Y/n, Y/n Y/n.” He taunted. “I’m almost sad you were hiding all this from me.” His tone was patronizing, eyes scoping your body out head to toe. It left you feeling even more unnerved and dirty than before.

You crossed your legs in pursuit to feel more secure, but before you could make a small hopeless attempt at covering up, Jeonghan beckoned you towards him. “C’mere.”

Each step felt heavier than the last as you approached, rooting yourself to the exact spot he pointed at. He stared up at you for a few seconds, enjoying the view before clearing his throat. “My shoe.” He stated, which caused you to quirk an eyebrow in confusion. 

“What?” 

“Get yourself off using my shoe.” His tone was demanding, leaving no room for argument. Your stomach dropped, the thought of being treated like such making you feel filthy. Jeonghan kicked lightly at your calf, a subtle gesture to snap you out of it. Gulping, tears pricked your eyes as you lowered yourself onto your knees. He nudged his foot between your legs, forcing them open as he settled it directly at your core. “Come on baby.” The words that he spoke felt anything less than reassuring. “Make me wait any longer and I just might hit post.”

The threat encouraged you as you ripped the bandaid off and settled onto his shoe. The leather felt cold against your skin, the unfamiliar feeling being somewhat uncomfortable. The man moved his foot slightly, the friction against your clit causing you to hiss at the contact. This was dirty – beyond dirty; and although you wished you weren’t in this particular position right now, your body seemed to not take the hint. Your slick coated the leather of his shoe, arousal beginning to drip. As if this couldn’t get any more embarrassing, you squeezed your eyes shut, rocking slowly against it. 

Jeonghan relaxed against the chair, watching you with a predatory gaze. He was beginning to get bored and he was also starting to get sick of you taking your sweet time. Swiftly, he reached forward to grab your jaw in his hand. 

You lurched forward, eyes shooting open in shock and a moan being ripped from you as the sudden action caused his foot to press against your cunt harshly. “Jesus fuck.” He groaned. “Can’t even do this shit right.” His fingers pressed into the skin of your face and you found yourself able to move away from his grip. It caught you off guard when his other hand threaded into the strands of your hair, tugging your head back. You unintentionally grabbed his leg to stabilize yourself, mouth opening to let out a sound of pain. Deciding to take advantage of the compromising situation he put you in, Jeonghan’s fingers slipped inside your mouth. You resisted the urge to chomp down on them, fearing that he might act in a moment of anger and release the photos you were so desperately trying to avoid getting out to the public. Instead, you took what he was giving you, letting the tears fall steadily down your face as you gazed up at him. 

“There we go.” He taunted, slipping his digits further down your throat. He rocked you himself, taking over for you as it seemed you weren’t doing a good job at it according to him — not like he gave you the chance to anyways.

The urge to gag was strong as you coughed around his fingers. Your mascara had begun to run down your face, only encouraging his ministrations further. Your body rolled against his leg, tits brushing on his dress pants every time he swayed you forward. Muffled sounds escaped your throat, partly from accommodating the fingers shoved down it and partly from trying to hold back the moans. You refused to let it feel good — you didn’t want him to make you feel good. 

Give him an inch and he would take a mile.

“Oh c’mon sweetheart.” Jeonghan’s eyes softened, lips jutting into a pout to make him look almost sympathetic. 

The fucker was taunting you.

“Don’t be like that.” He shook his leg, foot grinding against your folds. 

You let out a displeased groan, tears falling, yet eyes glaring at him. He pushed his fingers farther down, you choking around them before he sighed and reluctantly pulled them out. The realization that you refused to quit the tough girl act had settled in and pushed him way past the point of having any patience. 

“Fine,” He sneered, “Be a bitch then.” His hand gripped firmly at your hair, tugging you up from the ground with him. You grabbed his torso to stop yourself from falling at the swift movement. He shoved you forward towards the bed and you stumbled over your own two feet as you landed on the plush mattress. “Face down, ass up.” He demanded.

You stared at him, chest heaving. Sure, an awful attempt at riding his shoe was shameful, but being put into a position in which one of the most intimate parts of your body was completely on display for him was just downright degrading. 

He had to have a humiliation kink — there was absolutely no possible way he didn’t. 

Jeonghan arched an eyebrow as you took longer than he would have liked. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” His tone was threatening and you suddenly found yourself giving in to avoid the risk of what he might do if you suddenly changed your mind.

Yoon Jeonghan was certainly a man of his word. He had given you an ultimatum, and this was the option you had chosen. You had no one to blame but yourself as you knew better. Even as the thought of those specific photos leading to your impending doom was in the back of your mind, you still hit send. 

With a heavy heart, you turned around and sat on your knees. Tears dripped onto the white duvet, staining it with your mascara. Hesitantly, you leaned forward, bending into the exact position he asked of you. From behind, Jeonghan watched you like a hawk, eyes more than satisfied with the view. Your pretty little cunt was all exposed for him as he pleased and to make matters worse, — at least in your case, you were sopping wet. 

He had to fight back a groan, his pants tightening when his cock hardened. Wasting no time, he smoothed his hand over the curve of your ass. You flinched at the contact, his rings cold against your skin. You were hot to the touch and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he concluded it was from your ongoing embarrassment. His hands trailed further down, settling on either side of your pussy lips and using his thumbs to spread your folds to expose you further. The want and need to take you there right on the spot was strong, but he was patient — or at least, he was trying to convince himself of that. 

He let you go and you finally took a deep breath, not even noticing you had been holding it back all that time. You barely had time to collect yourself, struggling to calm your emotions when you suddenly felt a painful sting. The smack traveled throughout the room, loud and clear. You lurched forward, gripping tightly onto the bed sheets as a yelp left your mouth. Your mind was racing, heart beating fast in your chest as you couldn’t believe what he had just done. 

And he did it again — except this time he didn’t spare any time for the pain to linger away. Jeonghan’s hand came down hard and fast, raining smacks on your poor sensitive pussy. You attempted to get up, only to be forced back down as he continued his endless relent. 

“J-Jeonghan.” Your sobs filled the room, the stinging sensation becoming painful and overwhelming. “H-hurts.” You reached a hand back from your vulnerable position to try and stop him, but he slapped it away instead of showing any mercy. 

Your skin had now turned a light shade of red, arousal spread messily around your inner thighs and glistening in the lighting of the hotel lamps. You cried into the sheets, mostly out of pain, but partly because you were beginning to feel a faint amount of pleasure as his smacks began to land directly on your clit. The thought of somewhat starting to enjoy this was terrifying, however, you couldn’t stop the whine from leaving your mouth as his fingers grazed against your bundle of nerves with every slap.

The sound was soft, almost under your breath, but still, it somehow managed to reach his ears. Jeonghan came to a halt, a cheeky grin already across his face as he gazed down at you. “You’re beginning to enjoy this, aren’t you?” It was a useless question, one in which he had already figured out the answer to. 

You stayed silent, avoiding making even the smallest peep as he rubbed your pussy — the stimulation causing some of the pain to be soothed. He snickered, intently watching your expressions as he did so. “Whore.” 

Your stomach fluttered at the degrading title, hole clenching around nothing. He swiped a finger through your folds, using your wetness as lube when he inserted two of them. Your mouth fell open in silence as you adjusted to them. You whimpered as he kept his hand completely still, his middle and ring fingers making “come hither” motions slowly against your walls. Biting at your lip, you refused to make a sound from the slight pleasure you were experiencing. He kept it up for a while, wanting to keep you on edge. 

Just as you were getting accustomed to the feeling, Jeonghan took you by surprise. His fingers quickly rammed in and out of you at a deadly pace, not faltering once. Your hand slammed down beside your head as you immediately let out a loud cry. “Oh my god!” You moaned out, this time not bothering to hold back. You jutted your ass out, eyes rolling into the back of your head as his two fingers constantly slammed against your g-spot. With each drive of his digits into your pussy, it drew out wet sounds that you shamelessly had no choice but to accept — not like you could do anything about it anyways. As much as you were trying to deny it, your body felt good even though it was Jeonghan of all people making you feel that way. He showed you no mercy as he refused to slow down. His fingers glided into you with ease, slick coating them entirely. At this rate, he could slip a third finger in as it would seem so easy to do so. 

Jeonghan focused on your face, enjoying how your jaw fell slack and lids kept fluttering close. “You’re such a fucking slut.” He ripped his fingers out of you, landing a sharp slap, this time on your ass. “Letting me use you like this, huh?” You gasp, hips bucking a little bit at the unexpected contact. Once again, his digits slam into you, moving at lightning speed. His movements were aggressive, almost as if he was on a mission.

His question went unanswered as you found it hard to formulate any proper words. Your brain was empty, not a single thought on your mind as you gave into the pleasure you were receiving. It was hard to ignore, even if you desperately wanted to do so. Atlas, the spongy spot inside your walls was found and Jeonghan took advantage of that when he noticed. You got louder, babbling nonsense he couldn’t comprehend as he targeted it. “No, no.” You sobbed, the feeling forming in the pit of your stomach becoming suddenly overwhelming. “S-stop it.” Your voice was hoarse and you stuttered as it was difficult to even speak with his relentless ministrations inside your pussy. Jeonghan didn’t listen to you, your cries only encouraging him further. “Jeonghan, please.” To no avail, the squelching sounds picked up and the pressure building within you finally bursts. With the yell of his name, a rush of euphoria spread through your limbs, body trembling as you came undone. Jeonghan didn’t let up, instead continuing even as liquid gushed from your cunt and spread everywhere. 

“Ugh.” He groaned. “You’re making a mess.” A sly smirk threatened to spread across his face as he accomplished what he had been trying to do in the first place. 

Make a wreck out of you — he can check that off his bucket list. 

You bawled into the mattress, cheeks turning red from embarrassment when you realized you had no control over what was happening. Your muscles had become far too relaxed and you struggled to get a hold of yourself from him consistently fingerfucking you. “Can’t-,” You whimpered. “Can’t help it.” You sounded pathetic, and to say it turned Jeonghan on would be an understatement. 

Your orgasm subsided over and Jeonghan slipped his fingers out of your cunt; but he was far from being done. In fact, he was just getting started. You whined as he ground his palm against your clit, still being sensitive and not quite ready to take another one. “T-too much.” You fussed. He laughed at the state of you, finding it amusing. He caressed his hand over your ass yet again, this time giving it one more smack before ordering you to turn over. You stayed still for a moment, feeling sluggish and exhausted. Slowly, you lowered your body to the bed, breathing heavily as you collected yourself. 

Your mind was racing — images of Seungcheol’s face if he ever found out about this, the consequences if your nudes got leaked, and what else Jeonghan had in store for you ��� flooding your thoughts.

A warning slap to the back of your thighs had you rolling over quickly, the sting drawing out a wail from you. “No more.” You whispered through shallow breaths, still trying to gather yourself post-orgasm. You had never experienced something so intense in your life and to say it had knocked the wind out of you would be an understatement. 

Jeonghan ignored you, not even so much as bothering to look at your face. He had his focus elsewhere, narrowing in on one thing, and one thing only. He tapped the side of your thigh twice, “Open your legs.” 

You shook your head no, crossing your limbs even tighter together. Your chest heaved up and down, the fear starting to rise at the consequences that you might face from your refusal. 

Jeonghan released an entertained huff, nodding his head. You looked away for a split second, his burning gaze on you being far too severe to maintain eye contact. 

Your mistake.

You saw it coming from your peripheral vision, and it was already too late to prevent it from happening. The sharp sensation spread across your left cheek, and although it wasn’t as hard as it could have been, it still caused your face to grow hot. The unexpectedness mixed with the pain of the slap caused you to yelp, and you immediately went to rub at the tender spot as you stared up at him wide-eyed. 

“Don’t let me tell you again Y/N.” He bit out. “Spread your fucking legs.”

You were still too startled to process his words, let alone abide by them. Jeonghan exhaled a frustrated sigh, “Useless,” he muttered, before hooking his arms around your legs and yanking your body to the very edge of the bed where he stood. Your arms darted out to try and stabilize yourself, propping yourself up on your elbows. If you weren’t going to do what he said, then Jeonghan sure as hell would do it for you. He placed his hands on the underside of your thighs, forcing them up and apart until your knees were to your shoulders. A small smile spread across his face, his knowledge of your ballet skills currently being used against you as your flexibility came in handy for the current position he manhandled you into. A soft cry ripped from your throat as you suddenly felt all too vulnerable and exposed. 

Jeonghan sucked in a breath as he held you open, staring down at your glistening folds. His cock felt restricted in his pants, a tent forming from the sight of you. “Even better than the photos.” He said under his breath. His eyes trailed from your cunt, grazing over your tits, before finally landing on your face. The waterworks trailed down your cheeks, mascara completely smudged. Your eyes were doe-like, a silent plea for mercy attempted to be conveyed through them. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Tilting his head, Jeonghan cooed in faux sympathy. “You did this to yourself.”

You knew he was right, he had given you the option and you had made your decision. Let this be a learning curve for you never to send your nudes to someone again, and never to date a man whose best friend is the devil in disguise. 

Jeonghan reached his hand out and to his surprise – despite him letting go of your legs, you continued to stay spread open for him. He gripped at your jaw, fingers pressing into your skin as he forcefully squished your cheeks together. “Just say the words and I’ll put an end to this.” He was a menace, yes; but evil, no.

Who was he kidding, maybe just a little bit. 

The offer lingered on your mind and for a split second, you were tempted to take it – to just say no and leave it at that. However hidden behind all the fear and humiliation, was the slight twinge of excitement and pleasure you were desperately trying to ignore. If you ended this now, it would come at the price of your public appearance and you would be damn crazy to consider that choice over being brought to an orgasm. 

Jeonghan saw the exact moment you let your defenses down, the way your shoulders relaxed and breathing calmed being enough to let him know that your mind was made even without so much as a word from you. He scoffed, releasing your cheeks from his hold. “That’s what I thought.” 

You resisted the urge to whimper as his fingers found your nipple, twisting and giving it a harsh tug. “Ugh,” he stepped away from you, taking in the scene before smirking. “I’m tired of doing all the work — make yourself feel good for me hm?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not knowing exactly what he was trying to get at. “What?” You asked timidly, watching as he stepped further away and began to unbutton his shirt. 

“What?” He laughed mockingly. “You’ve never touched yourself before?” 

At his accusation, you turned your face away from him. Suddenly the comforter seemed to be very interesting as you refused to make eye contact with him. Your cheeks bloomed an embarrassing shade of pink, soon to become red from shame. 

“My god.” Jeonghan scoffed, his arms falling at his sides in mild disbelief. “You really think you’re better than everyone else, don’t you?” His tone was sharp, anger evident in his voice. “Think you’re too perfect to play with your pussy?” He inched closer to you, “To shove a few fingers up your cunt?” 

You didn’t answer him. With just one wrong word, there was a possibility you could send him over the edge and that was the last thing you wanted. He tapped at your cheek, the slaps being half-assed yet still doing enough to get your gaze focused on him again. His smile was devious and it scared you just a little bit. “We’ll see about that.” He smacked your already puffy cunt, the pain causing your hole to clench around nothing as you cried out. “Get to work.” He demanded.

You wiped the tears from your face with one hand, but nevertheless, not wanting to piss him off any further, your other hand slid down to the very spot he wanted it at. You swiped at your folds, collecting your essence and settling your fingertips on your clit. 

Truth be told, much to your dismay and to add honesty to Jeonghan’s words — he was right. You haven’t done this before. Typically it wouldn’t be a big deal, but now, especially in this situation where it could be useful; your lack of masturbation throughout your life could lead to your downfall. 

“Clock’s ticking angel.” Jeonghan taunted, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Don’t make me hit post.” 

Almost immediately you darted up further on your elbows. “No!” You yelled, desperation clear as day. “I-I’m doing it.” You lowered back down to get comfortable. Hesitantly, your fingers got to work, moving at a slow pace before picking up. Your pleasure was at an all-time low despite being soaking wet and you couldn’t help but think it was due to the fact that you didn’t exactly know how to get yourself there. In frustration, you focused on yourself, tuning out the man standing in front of you entirely. You drew figure eights on the bundle of nerves, putting your memory to good use from exactly what Seungcheol would do at times. Of course, it had always taken a while and never felt as good as what Jeonghan had done to you tonight — but nevertheless, at least it made you feel something. 

You bit back a moan and as much as you would like to make yourself believe that it was from the thought of Seungcheol, you knew it wasn’t true. No. In fact, it was because of his best friend who currently stood at the foot of the bed watching your every move. He looked bored out of his mind, more than likely silently teasing you for your pathetic attempt at getting yourself off. 

The sigh that left his mouth urged you to do better, the need to prove him wrong becoming strong. You ran a finger down to your hole, entering it slowly. There was barely any stretch, your pussy already used to being stuffed with Jeonghan’s much longer fingers. 

He perked up when he noticed you slip a finger in, eyebrows raised, clearly not having expected you to penetrate yourself. “C’mon.” He pushed. “You can do better than that.” You slipped another digit in, using your juices as lube to easily bottom out in your cunt. Jeonghan shook his head with a smile, almost feeling bad for Seungcheol, who probably never got the chance to see you like this. “There we go.” He said as you began to move your fingers in and out of your pussy, trying to replicate the gesture he was doing to you earlier. “That’s it.” 

A whimper left your mouth, feeling your digits slide against your walls. Your mouth fell open, however it was more so in distress than pleasure.

In and out, in and out, in and out.

No matter how many times you did it, no matter how long it went on for, and no matter how much you actually hated to admit it — your fingers didn’t feel nearly as good as when Jeonghan’s were buried deep inside your pussy.

Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes, and you let out a cry. Your pride was long gone, and you no longer had the energy to try and revive it. Your arm was beginning to get tired and body hot from the hopelessness of bringing yourself to an orgasm. “F-fuck.” You sobbed, ripping your fingers from your hole. Shamefully, with your ego finally being laid to rest, you willingly called out for him. “Jeonghan,” You begged, voice cracking in despair. “Please.” 

Jeonghan would say that he couldn’t believe his ears, but deep down inside, he knew that he was the one who brought you to this breaking point. He hummed, letting you know that he acknowledged you. 

“I can’t do it.” You wailed, holding back just a little to make it not seem like you were throwing a tantrum as if you were the spoiled little brat he always sought you out to be. 

He snickered, drawing closer to where you laid. “You wanna cum, don’t you?” 

“Yes please.” You whined, legs unconsciously spreading further. You would surely kick yourself if you processed your actions, but you were already too far into desperation to realize. 

Jeonghan gave in, not because he pitied you, but because he was sure he needed to be inside you within the next few minutes or he just might bust a load in his pants. He replaced your fingers with his own, pumping them in and out just like you were doing to yourself before. Surprisingly, your pussy felt much more accustomed to his touch than your own, being able to ignite the feeling of bliss much too quickly. Somehow within yourself, you found enough strength to hold eye contact, looking up at him through your wet lashes. Endless pants left your mouth, and even if you wanted to hold them back, it was useless. He was making you feel good, and with the way your hole was clenching tightly around his digits — he knew it too. 

Working you up to the brink of another orgasm, Jeonghan pulled away quickly as soon as he saw the signs. From the way your whimpers turned into moans, subtle beads of sweat trickled between the crevice of your breasts, and eyes began to roll back; it was enough for him to stop. You cried aloud as soon as the pleasure faded. “No!” You yelled in distress, but Jeonghan couldn’t care less. “Please Jeonghan, please.” You knew you hit rock bottom when you begged the one person you currently hated the most to give you an orgasm. 

He shrugged, a hand smoothing over your inner thigh. “If you want to cum so bad, I'm not stopping you.” 

“B-but-,” You were rendered speechless. “Need you.” 

That was for sure the last thing you ever thought you would admit. You — needing Yoon Jeonghan of all people.

Jeonghan cooed at you. “Poor angel.” He mocked sympathetically. “Wanting me to play with her pussy so badly.” His words were laced with filth, yet they had your toes curling. He grazed his thumb through your folds and over your clit, spreading your arousal and causing you to shudder. “Dripping, all for me.” He smirked down at you with his finger rubbing slow, agonizing circles on your bundle of nerves. It was enough to feel good, but certainly not enough to send you over the edge. “Don’t worry angel. I’ll let you cum.” 

He stopped entirely and the groan that left your throat let him know that you were less than pleased. The constant push and pull was beginning to irritate you, however you were in no position to complain. No — not when Jeonghan had the upper hand. 

He ordered you not to move and you obliged. There was no use in making this any harder than it was, you had learned that over the course of the past hour. He didn’t care how long it took, let alone what it took. He was determined to make a mess out of you and unfortunately, much to your disbelief, you were voluntarily giving in to him. 

He draped his suit coat over the armchair, his pants following soon after. With each piece of clothing he shed, you found yourself getting wetter and wetter — awaiting the best part. His thumb lingered between the waistband of those damn Calvin Klein’s, him smiling tauntingly at you as it was all you could keep your eyes on. “Want them off?” He asked smugly, already knowing the answer.

You glanced up at him before reverting your vision back to where his hand was, nodding repeatedly. “Yes, yes.” You said far too eagerly. “Take them off.” 

Jeonghan chuckled, finally discarding the last garments and ultimately leaving him partially nude. His dress shirt was still on, though unbuttoned all the way which made up for him not fully taking it off. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head as you caught sight of his cock, standing tall and leaking with precum. He looked irresistible, and if you were just a little more far gone from your previous orgasms, maybe in your half-empty mind you would’ve mistaken him for an angel — or a devil in this matter.

He stalked towards you, arms reaching out to press your thighs further against your shoulders. You allowed him to without putting up a fight, too caught up with the inevitable scenarios your brain conjured up with what he had in store for you. 

Gripping at the base of his cock, Jeonghan pumped himself a few times, allowing droplets of his precum to drip onto the carpet before slapping it against your pussy. Your legs threatened to close as you moaned from the feeling. He scoffed playfully, sliding his cock further past your cunt and up your pelvis. Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you looked down at your stomach as you tried to work out what he was doing. He seemed so intent on watching himself rather than you and it piqued your interest. As you averted your gaze to his line of vision, a groan escaped from your mouth and you couldn’t help but throw your head back from the sight.

He was sizing you up. Trying to figure out himself, just how far he would be buried deep inside of you — and dare you say, at this very moment, you were just as invested as he was. To see for yourself, the bulge in your belly when he stuffs you full of his cock and brings you to a high Seungcheol never could. 

You felt the head of his cock drag between your folds a few times, bumping your clit and drawing out a whimper as it stimulated the bundle of nerves. It all happened too soon; somewhere between opening your eyes and propping yourself up again, you realized it was useless when you fell back onto the mattress. The scream erupted from you in both pleasure and surprise as Jeonghan wasted no time, not slamming into you, but still gliding in fast enough to make your head spin. He clenched his eyes shut as your hole squeezed around him, showing his cock no mercy just as he’s been doing to you all night.

Don’t cum. Don’t cum. Don’t cum. He repeated in his head like a mantra, but it was incredibly tough to stick to it when you were clamping around him like your life depended on it. “Fuck,” He breathed out, “You’re so tight.”

You adjusted to him with only just a little less of ease, having to remind yourself to breathe as he bottomed out. If Seungcheol had the girth, then Jeonghan certainly had the length. You could feel his tip kissing your cervix and you feared that it wouldn’t take much at this point to send you over the edge yet again. 

He started off slow, sliding in and out of you at a moderate pace until not only you, but he himself also grew accustomed to. It was more for his sake than yours as he tried to loosen you up to the point in which he didn’t feel like cumming every time he entered and exited your cunt. Sighs escaped from your lips with each move, encouraging him to pick up the speed as he was determined to rile you up and make you more vocal for him. Your hands tangled with the plush comforter beneath you, using it as a squeeze toy to assist with taking what he was giving you. Jeonghan may be going easy on you now, but only a fool would think he’d keep up with the act – and you were right.

Soon, he was driving his cock into you, and with each thrust, you could feel him dragging against the inside of your walls. You were aware of everything, from his fingers pressing into your skin to his balls slapping against your ass. The mere feeling elicits a moan from you, eyes falling shut in pleasure only to fly open again when he lands a harsh slap to your tit. He tugs and pulls at your nipple, your body jerking up in response. “Eyes on me.” He demands. 

You listen, making eye contact with him. If the phrase “the devil behind those eyes” was reincarnated into a person if possible, you were sure it would be Yoon Jeonghan. With the way he was staring down at you, so predatorial as he took whatever agenda he had against you out on your poor pussy, you were fairly certain he would still post the photos despite you doing what he asked. 

Your jaw went slack, falling what seemed to be permanently open as you found yourself unable to hold back any of the sounds he evoked from you. He smiled at you, enjoying the way your tits bounced in perfect harmony with his thrusts and your chest heaved in anticipation. “Such a cute little cocksleeve.” He cooed.

You whimpered at his words, lids fluttering close despite warning yourself to ensure they didn’t. Jeonghan didn’t let it slide this time as he decided he’d had enough of reminding you to keep them on him. You feel his hand snaking up your body, enclosing around your neck. He uses his hold on you as leverage to yank you up on your elbows and you peer at him like a deer in the headlights. His glare was hard, not faltering once even as his hips rammed his cock further into you. 

“The hell did I tell you?” He asked through gritted teeth. “What? Don’t tell me I’ve fucked you dumb already?” 

To answer his question, one in which he already knew; your eyes rolled and you babbled incoherent words, too far immersed in pleasure to form a proper response. Jeonghan scoffed at the state of you, mood slightly elevated from accomplishing what he had intended to do all along. “Too easy.” He muttered.

You clenched on tightly to the wrist that was around your throat as he tightened his hand. You were beginning to get a little lightheaded, however, rather than scaring you, it only added more to the ecstasy. “Shit!” You cried when he hit your sweet spot exactly. It didn’t take him long to find it and needless to say, it threw you for a loop. The feeling was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, especially considering Seungcheol has never made you cum on his cock before. Jeonghan however, had the main objective to see you fall apart on his. “Fuck, Jeonghan!”

The man took notice of the way you absentmindedly ground your core against him, a gesture that silently yearned for more. He rutted into the same spot again, a wicked grin spreading across his face as your eyes glossed over and pussy squeezed around the base of his cock. “Right there?” He asked, already well aware of just how to angle himself to hit the same exact area every single time.  

“Yes, yes, god yes!” You chanted as he without fail, slammed into your sweet spot repeatedly. The feeling had you gripping onto his wrist even tighter if possible, using his arm as leverage to ground yourself. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asked, keenly examining the expression you were making. 

You nodded frantically, but apparently, that wasn’t good enough for him. Jeonghan didn’t only want you to watch him, but he wanted to hear you too. 

“Tell me just how good baby, I want to know.”

Unfortunately for you, unable to put into words exactly how you felt; nothing but mewls and whimpers left your mouth. 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes at you, slowing his hips down to a pace that left you unable to cling to the pleasure threatening to leave your body. “No, no!” You rushed to claw at him, protesting his sudden action. “Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop.”

The man clicked his tongue, finding your reaction more than amusing. You were begging, and he didn’t even have to ask.

“F-feel so good Jeonghan.” You tell him what he wants to hear. “Love it.”

More content than he was before, Jeonghan started to move again, however, despite this he was still less than satisfied. “Love when what?”

“Love getting fucked like –,” Your breath hitched in realization and you beat yourself up over the fact that you were getting fucked so dumb your thoughts were reduced and you couldn’t process anything escaping from your mouth. You fell quiet as you became conscious of your words.

Jeonghan quirked an eyebrow at your silence. “Awh.” He cooed, feigning sympathy. “Like what baby, I’m listening?” Your lip trembled as you were unable to divert your gaze away from him. “Like a slut?” He answered for you. “Right angel, ‘cause that’s what you are hm?”

Tears fell steadily down the sides of your face, only blurring your vision and making you seem weak. You moved your head in the slightest of nods to pathetically agree and that finally made Jeonghan pick back up from where he left off. This time, instead of easing into it, he slammed into you again and you sobbed from the intrusion. Your pussy faced his cruel relentlessness, although happily letting him in and out as he worked you up to a pleasurable sensation yet again. Sloppy sounds of wetness filled the room, along with the smacking of skin-to-skin contact. You reached for one of your tits, taking your nipple between your fingers and rolling it for extra stimulation. You had never been one to focus on your breasts before, but Jeonghan was making something out of you that no one ever could – a whore.

“My little slut.” He groaned as he watched what you were doing to yourself. 

“Yes Hannie!” You say, using the nickname you had only ever heard his close family and friends call him by — something you couldn’t ever be considered. “Love when you fuck me like I’m your little slut.” You babbled, too far gone to comprehend what you were saying to its full extent. You would surely regret it later, but for now, the consequences rest in the very back of your mind. “All yours.”

Jeonghan’s hips stuttered at your claim. His. You were all his. To please, to humiliate, to claim – you practically said it yourself. 

“Tell me, angel,” He hissed, thumb swiping over your clit and causing you to gasp. “Seungcheol ever make you feel this good?”

Seungcheol. Seungcheol? Who was he again? – Oh yeah, right. 

You struggled between moans, finding it difficult to put a face to the name, even if it was your ex-boyfriend as his best friend of all people fucked you stupid. “No.” You cried, your hips lifting off the bed as something began to form in the pit of your stomach. With each thrust, you could feel Jeonghan’s cock kissing your cervix, threatening to send you over the edge. 

“What a shame.” Jeonghan shook his head. “He should’ve put this cute lil’ cunt to good use while he had the chance.” His remark caused you to whimper pitifully, yet you could still feel a rush of delight coursing through your veins. You were almost there, and it wouldn’t take long to have you fall apart either. 

Your pussy tightened around his shaft, gripping him so immensely tight that Jeonghan’s hand accidentally squeezed harder around your neck. He went to loosen up immediately, but with the way your lids fluttered, he could sense that you liked it. The minimal breathing room that he had left you with only added to the pleasure that you were feeling. There was no escaping the warm, tingling sensation spreading throughout your body. Your toes curl as he fucks into you at a speed almost inhumane, treating you as if you were nothing but a toy for him to get off with. You couldn’t even talk if you wanted to, the only thing on your mind at the moment being your orgasm. 

You sank your nails into him, scratching at his arms, but it was almost as if he couldn’t feel it, entirely too focused on chasing his own high as well. 

In and out. In and out. In and out – just like his fingers had done so earlier before, and it wasn’t until he used his other hand to rub at your clit that the feeling washed over you entirely. It was intense – leaving your ears ringing to the point in which you couldn’t even hear what sounds you were making. All you saw was black, most likely from your eyes being rolled into the back of your head, and for a split second there it was as if you were floating. The moan that left your mouth was borderline pornographic, and Jeonghan just couldn’t hold himself back anymore. His cock twitched inside of you, steady pace faltering before he eventually allowed his own orgasm to take over. He filled you to the brim, letting out small sighs of satisfaction. From the chaos of it all, you could slightly make out the wetness that you felt underneath where your ass lay, and the comforter was now most likely ruined further from unavoidably squirting for the second time that night. 

Jeonghan’s chest heaved up and down for a few seconds, and he gathered himself before letting go of your throat. You let out a large breath as soon as he did, followed by a whine when you felt him slide his cock out of your hole. Your mind was foggy still and you struggled to grasp onto reality, but you could sense him stepping out from in between your legs. You could hear as he got dressed, the metal of his belt buckle clanking, but still, you stayed put with your legs spread and eyes shut; limbs feeling like jelly. Jeonghan watched as you laid there, buttoning up his shirt messily. He had done a number on you, and it left him a lot more than content. He stalked towards you after gathering his stuff, you completely oblivious with your lids closed. His cum had now begun to ooze out of your pussy, leaking further down and this was an opportunity he could not miss. 

Somewhere between the lingering daze and gaining your senses back to their full extent, you heard the shutter of a camera.

“What are you doing?” You shot up instantly, pleasure washed away and now replaced with fear. Your legs instinctively clamped shut, shielding your messy cunt from not only his view, but the camera lens as well. 

Jeonghan shrugged, giving the photo a once over before tucking the device away in the safety of his pocket. “Just for safe measures.”

Your heartbeat sped up as you looked at him with eyes full of betrayal. “But you said you wouldn’t.”

“And I won’t,” He reassured, too relaxed about this whole predicament for your liking, “But what’s Gossip Girl without a little bit of blackmail?” He laughed, winking at you as he turned on his heels and began walking towards the door. 

You glared daggers into his back from behind him, still sitting frozen on the bed and unable to move. He reached out for the doorknob, opening it up, “Oh, and Y/n,” he said, turning back around and reaching his hand in his pocket to fetch something. His voice was an octave lower than before, gaze matching it with a deadly stare set on you. 

“What.” You snapped. 

“Don’t forget,” He waved his phone in the air. “I own you now.” 

The door slammed shut behind him and a sob finally ripped from your throat as you allowed yourself to cry freely. You shoved your face into your hands, coming to the conclusion that your fate now lied with him – and if there was anything you learned from tonight, it was that he would ruin you in any way he deemed possible. 

XoXo, Yoon Jeonghan.

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

“And it’s an emergency?” Bruce asked her, brow furrowing in concern.

Dani tapped her foot. “Yes. I need to leave now.”

Bruce sighed. “I’ll contact our pilot, but I can’t guarantee that he be able to fly you to Illinois last minute.”

Dani smiled weakly, “Thanks Bruce.” She said as she walked out the door, running into Damian.

“Where are you going?” He demanded, Jerry the Turkey trailing behind him.

“There’s a family emergency I need to go to.” Dani explained, ruffling his hair, grinning when he squwaked and hit her hand away.

“When will you return?”

Dani hesitated, smiling fading, before she looked in Damian’s eye and forced a grin.

“That depends. But I’ll be back, you don’t need to worry.”

The study door opened, and Bruce poked his head out, phone in hand. “Dani, the plane will be ready right after dinner at the soonest. Where exactly are you going?”

“Amity Park, Illinois.”

~

Danielle’s ‘minor family emergency’ was a huge lie.

Damian saw her smile dim and her hands shake as she told him she would be back.

Danielle was in danger, he didn’t need Leauge training to be able to tell.

That dinner, Danielle’s suitcase and bag was right next to her chair as she ate, looking very distracted.

“Woah!” Duke yelped as he tripped over the bag, stabilizing himself on the wall. “What’s the bag for?”

“Sorry, I’m going to Illinois after dinner. Family emergency.” Dani sheepishly, kicked the bag under the table and out of the way, smiling apologetically at Duke.

“Family emergency? But I thought…” Duke trailed off awkwardly. He didn’t need to finish his sentence for everyone to know what he trying to say.

Dani shrugged but didn’t give them an answer.

Duke, Damian’s nd Bruce locked eyes with each other and shared a minuscule nod. They would be investigating in the cave that night.

“Ok, I’m heading out!” Dani said, giving each of them a hug that lasted longer than usual, as if she was leaving for the last time.

~

Dani’s flight was around 2 hours, and the only sound that was in The luxury cabin was the sound of her foot tapping.

She apologized to the pilot for the last minute notice, but he waved her off with a smile. Dani tipped him a couple hundred anyway.

The airfield was pretty far, so Dani called an ride to pick her up.

While she waited, she checked Danny’s message from this morning.

Prototype: Dani we need you in Amity

Protoype: The GIW are acting funny

“Tt. When is the car arriving?”

Dani froze, whipping her head around to see Damian holding a duffel bag and staring at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh-what? Damian?” Dani stammered in surprise, before she got angry. “Damian Thomas Wayne, why and how the hell are you here?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I snuck on the plane and followed you, of course.”

Dani’s eye twitched and Damian got the feeling that this was a bad idea.

There was a long silence before Dani dragged him to the wall and whispered to him, “Damian, I have a reason for you guys not to come. A good reason. So you need to get a plane back to Gotham before it’s too late.”

Damian shook his head. “The pilots gone. And it is too late to catch another flight.”

Dani groaned, but was interrupted by her phone vibrating in her pocket.

She pulled it out and cursed as she read the message.

Dr.Jazz: Dani the GIW is closing down airports

Dr.Jazz: Nobody can get out or in

Dr.Jazz: are you here yet?

Fenton 2.0: I’m here

Fenton 2.0: with an unexpected guest

Her phone binged again, and she snapped her fingers to get Damian’s attention away from his phone- which he had pulled out when Jazz messaged her.

“Our ride is here.” She said curtly, picking up her bags and walking outside the terminal.

Dash Baxter was leaning against his car, searching the crowd. He caught sight of Dani and Damian, giving the younger girl a nod and the tween a raised eyebrow.

“You guys are lucky you got here when you did. The guys in white just closed everything down.” Dash said as he loaded their luggage into the back of his car.

Dani opened the backseat door and let Damian climb in before sitting down after him.

“What’s going on, Dash? Danny hasn’t been replying to my messages and Jazz is being extremely vague.”

Dash started the car and pulled into the freeway.

“Can’t go into detail. Too many cameras. We’re probably being followed.” Dash looked at Damon through the rewrite mirror. “Whos the tyke?”

“Damian. Damian Wayne.” Damian said as he wrinkled his nose.

“Dash Baxter. How’d you get caught up with the Waynes, Dani?”

“Bruce is fostering me. We just haven’t made an official announcement yet.”

Dash let out a whistle. “Nice. I won’t be able to drop you at the FentonWorks Lab, but Star and Paulina wanted to talk to you out anyway.”

Dash pulled into the park, and helped Dani and Damian with their bags before driving off.

There were GIW agents setting up cameras all around the park, in trees, lamp post, and they were even shoving warrants in the faces of home owners and setting cameras on their property.

Around 2/3 of the town was in the park, watching the GIW and talking in hushed tones. They all turned to stare at Dani and Damian as they walked through.

“Why are they stareing at you?” Damian asked, glaring at a boy his age, who squeaked and sprinted away.

“Because my family is rather well known.” Dani glanced at Damian. “And I have a Wayne with me.”

“Dani.”

They turned around to see two girls, one Latina dressed in pink and one blonde with large blue eyes.

“Paulina. Star. How’ve you been?” Dani smiled at them.

Star smiled at her, but it wasn’t real and plastic looking.

“I’m doing great. A little ghosty told me that the Fentons are waiting for you and Damian at the FentonWorks Lab.” Star eyed Damian with a curious eye and peered at Dani through her lashes.

“Don’t you think it’ll be to dangerous for the kid?” Paulina asked, ignoring the way Damian bristled at being called a kid.

Dani’s eye sharperned as she places a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “We have no choice. The GIW closed down the airport. He’ll have to learn how to survive.”

The girls faltered.

“W-what? But my dad is in New York! He..” Paulina stammered, and Star was at her side in a second, comforting her.

Dani and Damian walked away, Danis hand still on his shoulder.

They walked for some time in silence, until Dani stopped them and pointed at a GIW agent.

“Wanna help?” At Damian’s nod she smirked and continued. “Let’s put your training to good use. What do you think they’re doing?”

“You knew?” Damian asked her.

“You guys aren’t the only vigilantes in my family.”

Damian nodded and turned away from her, observing the agents in white.

“They’re setting up cameras. And cold sensors.”

Dani’s lips twisted into a small smile. “The GIW are officially called the Ghost Investigation Ward, but we call them the Guys in White.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize there were other ghosts.”

Dani’s eyes flashed green as she grinned.

“Well, Damian, you have a lot to learn. But yes, there are other ghosts.”

Damain nodeded and glanced back toward the Agents.

“Tt. If they investigate ghosts, why are they barricading the town?”

Dani’s face darkened and she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Damian, there’s a lot I don’t know. But I can tell you this:”

She whispered her next few words.

“It’s about to go from bad to worse. Brace yourself.”

[classjezter]

Does the autobots notice baby Optimus mimic elita one face or has elita notice it herself if so what are their reactions? ( another option is just the autobots see him mimic elita and just try’s not to laugh at it.)

Yup! Optimus copying Elita is so common becomes a running joke amongst them, he tries his best to be a mini her

More on Baby Optimus’ mimicking habits below cut 🔽

At first, Elita was caught off guard by Optimus’ mimicking, but once she realized what he was doing, she couldn’t help but find it both amusing and endearing. The idea that he admired her enough to copy her is enough to stir something warm in her spark, and it always makes her smile.  But there was a bittersweet edge to it as well. Whenever she sees Optimus trying to be stoic, furrowing his little brow like he was carrying the weight of the world, it hit too close to home. It was a painful reminder of the real Optimus, the strong and steady leader who had always carried the burden of their people. Now, that same bot was just a sparkling trying to imitate strength he no longer remembers having. She buried those feelings deep, refusing to let them show. This tiny Optimus didn’t need her sorrow or her grief. He needed stability, warmth, and care. Instead, she played along, dubbing him her “little shadow” whenever she caught him mirroring her stance or movements. And if anyone so much as looked like they were about to laugh at him, they were met with a sharp glare and the threat of immediate consequences, even if, deep down, she herself was chuckling at the sight.

B-127 absolutely loves Optimus’ mimicking habit and quickly takes it upon himself to help the little Prime learn how to talk properly. Their "yapping" sessions become a regular thing, were B-127 speaking endlessly and repeating some words more slowly so Optimus can attempt to copy them. He started with everyone’s names, repeating them and pointing to each Autobot to help Optimus associate them. Thanks to this, Optimus mainly learns new words because of B-127. While B loves teaching new words, deep down it feels a bit wrong, it used to be Optimus guiding him, but now the roles are reversed.

Ratchet found Optimus’ copying habit amusing, though he would never admit it out loud (the others can tell). Altough didn’t quite know how to react when he noticed Optimus mimicking his behavior. As much as he tried to hide it, the sight of the little sparkling trying to copy his movements and expressions would always catch him off guard, leaving him with a strange sense of pride and amusement. Ratchet couldn’t help but feel a little impressed at how the tiny bot managed to capture the exact drama of his signature sighs, the way his optics would narrow in frustration. The little one had an uncanny ability to get it just right. But what he found the most amusing was when Optimus would try to mimic his lectures. Whenever he caught a glimpse of the sparkling trying to "lecture" another bot (often in the form of angry chirps and beeps that barely made sense, but the fact that the little guy gave it his all, puffing out his chest and making dramatic gestures, trying his best to sound authoritative? It was adorable) Ratchet would have to hide a smirk behind his gruff exterior.

Wheeljack was the first to actively notice Optimus’ mimicking habit, catching on that the little guy was trying so hard to be like his caretakers. At first, he found it hilarious, trying so hard not to laugh at his little face and discourage him from doing it, so much so that he actually had to leave the room to laugh outside the first saw Optimus’ attempt to deliver one of Ratchet’s infamous "lectures," with serious beeping and tiny, frustrated hand waves. But when Optimus started copying him as well Wheeljack didn’t know whether to laugh or panic. Watching the sparkling attempt to fiddle with tools, tilting his little helm the way Wheeljack does when thinking, or even trying to mimic his excited hand gestures makes something tighten in his spark. He doesn’t think he’s the best role model to copy.

Jazz finds Optimus’ mimicking habit both ridiculously entertaining and unexpectedly heartwarming. The first time he catches the little Prime trying to match Elita’s confident stance, he nearly busts a gasket trying not to laugh. He gets a particular kick out of how the sparkling tries to mimic Elita’s glares; they lose some of their intimidation power next to his adorable attempts. And of course, Jazz also makes sure to tease the others about it every single chance he gets. But beneath the amusement, Jazz notices how instead of them looking up to Optimus as usual, it’s now Optimus who is watching them, learning from them, shaping himself based on them. It hits hard, and there’s something oddly humbling about it, so Jazz takes it as both a privilege and a responsibility. If Optimus is going to mimic him, then he’s going to make sure the kid learns all the right moves. So, naturally, Jazz starts playfully encouraging the habit, teaching little Optimus some smooth, confident gestures, even showing him how to pull off some dance moves.

Prowl was initially baffled when he first noticed Optimus’ mimicry, the sight of a tiny sparkling trying to copy his every move caught him off guard. At first, Prowl tried to remain indifferent to the habit, seeing it as nothing more than the typical behavior of a young sparkling trying to imitate his elders. But when he caught Optimus trying to copy his precise movements and disciplined posture, he couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of pride. Though he would never admit it, Prowl found it oddly endearing when Optimus imitated his thinking poses or tried to replicate his seriousness. And despite his usual stoicism, even he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sparkling’s adorable attempts, especially when Optimus would mimic his exasperated sighs or focused expressions, sometimes giving the smallest of encouraging nods when Optimus successfully copied his movements. While he tried to remain pragmatic, part of him was impressed by how much the little one wanted to be like him. It’s a complicated feeling to process.

Ironhide was initially surprised when he first noticed Optimus mimicking him. He wasn’t exactly used to being copied, he was more the type to set an example through action rather than words. At first, he’d chuckle under his breath and brush it off as something that would pass with time. But over time, it became clear that Optimus was always attentively watching him and the others, looking up to them, it reminded him of the little moments with the real Optimus, before this whole thing happened. He’d quietly chuckle when Optimus tried to replicate his booming voice or his stubborn gruffness, even if it came out as beeping and babbling. So, while he’d grumble about the whole thing, there was no mistaking the quiet pride he felt for the little guy.

In summary, OP occasionally copies others to learn from them, but his number one is still Elita

[digitaldaydreamm]

Same person from before - I have a req if this is okay! For childhood bestie au :)

Maybe reader being drunk and sad at a party and her girl friends are all trying to help her be less drunk and sad :( and reader really just wants Rafe. (He may have alr been at the party or comes to it from his house) and stays with her to help her feel better and she feels better but becomes a clingy shy drunk for him in front of everyone because she’s embarrassed that she needed him in the first place?

Maybe she’s too out of it to notice but people can clearly see that reader and Rafe have some unspoken thing.

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

| summary | there's nothing wrong with needing your best friend

warnings: drunk reader

a/n: love this concepttttt, clingy reader is me lol. i hope this is what you had in mind!!

masterlist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

The party was too much. Too loud, too crowded, too overwhelming.

The bass thumped through your skull like a second heartbeat, every laugh, every slurred conversation around you feeling distant, like you were watching it all happen from underwater.

Your head felt light, the alcohol buzzing through your system, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the ache in your chest.

You had barely touched your drink in the last twenty minutes, just turning the plastic cup between your fingers as you sat curled into yourself on the couch, feeling more and more like you didn’t belong here.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Kiara’s voice was soft, her brows furrowed as she knelt in front of you.

You blinked at her slowly, fingers tightening around the cup, but you didn’t answer, afraid your tears would spill out of you like a waterfall. She wasn’t the person you wanted to hear from.

Sarah, sitting next to you, sighed. “It’s Rafe.”

Your stomach twisted at the sound of his name.

JJ groaned from the armrest, throwing his head back dramatically. “Of course, it’s Rafe. What did he do now?"

You swallowed, eyes flicking to your lap.

“We argued before I left,” you admitted, voice small.

It felt stupid now, all of it.

You had pushed him, wanting space, wanting to prove that you didn’t always need him hovering over you like some overbearing shadow. That you could go to a party on your own. Be independent. And now, sitting here with an empty drink and a hollow feeling in your chest, all you wanted was to take it back.

Sarah frowned. “You should’ve known he’d get mad about you coming here.”

“...I know.”

JJ scoffed. “And yet, here we are.”

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling small, your fingers twitching against the cup.

You didn’t want to be here.

You wanted him.

Sarah seemed to pick up on that because she pulled out her phone without another word.

Your stomach flipped.

“Wait—”

But it was too late.

You watched, heart pounding, as she typed. A thousand different worries raced through your head.

Was he still mad? Would he even come?

The thought of seeing him, of facing him after how you left things, made your breath catch in your throat.

But the alternative—sitting here, pretending you were fine when you weren’t—felt worse.

So, you waited.

And it didn’t take long.

The moment Rafe stepped into the party, it was like the entire room shifted.

He didn’t look around, didn’t acknowledge anyone else. His gaze went straight to you.

His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable, but his eyes softened—just barely—the second they landed on you.

Your fingers curled around the fabric of your dress, your stomach twisting.

Is he still angry? Is he going to push you away?

You didn’t know, and that uncertainty made your hands tremble slightly as you fisted the fabric in your lap.

He was already making his way towards you, his presence cutting through the crowd effortlessly.

The closer he got, the harder it was to breathe.

When he finally stopped in front of you, towering over where you sat, you hesitated.

Your fingers twitched. You wanted to reach for him.

But what if he didn’t want you to?

“Hey,” you whispered, barely audible over the music. You felt your eyes water once more, the tears now threatening to spill.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping just slightly. And that was all the encouragement you needed.

The hesitation melted away as you moved, reaching for the sleeve of his dress shirt with shaky fingers.

He let you, didn’t pull away, didn’t move.

That was enough.

You gripped the fabric tightly, using it to pull yourself up, but the alcohol made your movements sluggish, unsteady.

Your body tilted slightly as you stumbled forward, and before you could even register what was happening, Rafe’s hands were on you.

One arm wrapped around your waist, the other gripping your hip, steadying you effortlessly. Your breath hitched at the contact, at the warmth of his touch.

Your fingers clenched in his shirt, your face tilting up to meet his gaze, and suddenly, it was impossible to think about anything else.

“I—” You swallowed, feeling your cheeks heat.

Rafe just shook his head, taking in your intoxicated state, his grip on your waist tightening. “Jesus, kid…”

You hesitated for half a second longer before finally letting yourself sink into him, pressing your face into his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso in a way that was almost shy.

He went rigid for a moment, like he wasn’t expecting it.

Then, his hold on you softened, and he let out a slow, steady breath before wrapping both arms around you completely, his fingers pressing into your back.

You felt yourself relax instantly, melting against him, gripping onto his shirt like he was the only thing keeping you standing.

Maybe he was.

You pressed closer, nuzzling against the soft fabric, your voice muffled when you mumbled, “Missed you.”

Rafe exhaled through his nose, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested against your back.

JJ groaned from the couch. “Are you serious?”

You flushed, suddenly hyper-aware of how tightly you were clinging to Rafe in front of everyone. But when you shifted slightly, he just pulled you closer.

You felt his lips brush the top of your head, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t.”

You swallowed. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t act like you don’t need me.”

Your breath stuttered. Because, God, you did.

So, you clung a little tighter, buried your face a little deeper into him, and let him take you home.

[hottiesforhockey]

take a break ⎜n.hischier

pairings: nico hischier x afab!reader genre: established relationship ⎜ mental health rep ⎜ hurt/comfort warnings: mentions of declining mental health ⎜ mentions of mild depression/ depressive episode? ⎜ nico just has the saddest eyes sometimes ⎜insecure nico ⎜anxious nico ⎜ synopsis: When Nico's teammates call you in the middle of the night on a road trip, you knows something is wrong - if they're calling it must be bad. word count: 5k authors note:  this was voted to be posted next - though it was very close with menace 2.0, it's pretty short but I still hope everyone enjoys and hopefully MTBBW pt 4 will be out soon.

(unedited)

The phone is warm against your chest, you’re sprawled on your mattress, buried beneath the familiar weight of your blankets, head cushioned against a messy stack of pillows. The glow of your screen casts a faint blue light over your features, illuminating the worry creasing your brow. Beyond the curtains, the golden haze of the streetlamp filters in, stretching long shadows across the walls. The only other sound in the room is the steady rise and fall of your breath, mirroring the quiet rustling on the other end of the line.

“You did so well today,” you murmur, voice thick with exhaustion but laced with sincerity.

You mean it.

You always mean it.

Nico exhales softly, barely above a whisper, but you can hear the weight in it. “We lost.”

It isn’t just disappointment in his tone—it’s something heavier, something that settles deep in your chest, pressing against your ribs like an unseen force. You can picture him so clearly: hunched over in his hotel room, long fingers threading through his hair, his big brown eyes downcast, brows furrowed in that deep crease you know too well. The one he gets when he’s too deep in his own head, replaying every second, every misstep, over and over until it eats him alive.

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t play well,” you counter gently. “Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Silence.

Not the kind that feels like comfort, like home. No, this silence is restless, curling at the edges with something sharp and unspoken. You shift slightly, propping yourself up on your elbow, your heart picking up its pace.

“Nico?”

A soft exhale crackles through the speaker. “I just… I should’ve been better.”

Your chest tightens. You hate when he does this—when he carries the weight of everything on his shoulders, as if the loss is his burden alone. As if he’s the only one who could’ve changed the outcome.

“Baby, you’re being too hard on yourself,” you murmur, but he doesn’t answer right away. The pause stretches too long, long enough to stir something uneasy inside you. You glance at the clock. 

2:07 AM.

He always calls after a tough game. It’s a ritual at this point, the two of you tangled in the quiet hours of the night, whispering across time zones. But tonight is different. He’s quieter. It’s not just frustration—it’s something deeper, something sinking.

“You still there?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, but it’s distracted, distant.

You hear the muffled sounds of movement—a door opening and closing, the soft thud of his suitcase hitting the bed, the long, weary exhale as he sinks onto the mattress. The exhaustion in his voice is bone-deep, the kind that isn’t just physical but emotional too.

“Nico, talk to me,” you urge gently. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Another pause.

“Nothing.” The word is grumbled, but you can hear the lie in it, the way it doesn’t quite sit right in his throat. “It’s nothing, really… I shouldn’t have even called you this late.”

Your heart clenches.

“Nico, it doesn’t matter what time—”

“I’m gonna try and get some sleep,” he cuts in, and the way he says it makes your stomach drop. He never cuts you off. Not like this. It’s not sharp or angry, but it’s final. It’s shutting down. You can hear it happening, the way he’s pulling away, retreating into himself like he does when things start getting too heavy.

You swallow past the knot in your throat, forcing yourself to exhale. “Okay,” you say softly. “Just… know you can call me anytime.”

There’s a beat of hesitation before you hear his soft hum, a barely-there acknowledgement before the line goes dead. The silence that follows is suffocating, pressing in around you as you stare up at the blank ceiling.

You hate this part. The part where he carries everything alone, where you can’t reach through the phone and pull him out of whatever storm is brewing inside him. Road trips always wear on him, the endless cycle of airports and hotel rooms, of waking up in unfamiliar places and running on exhaustion.

And yet, it’s not just that. It’s something more. You can feel it, even from miles away.

But for now, all you can do is listen when he lets you, and wait when he won’t.

+

+

The phone is heavy in Nico’s hand, his grip tightening and loosening around the smooth edges as he stares at the ceiling of the dimly lit hotel lobby. The air feels stale, thick with the remnants of the night’s loss, pressing down on him like an invisible weight. He’s exhausted—his body aches, his muscles tight and sore—but his mind refuses to settle.

So he calls you.

The phone rings only once before you answer, your voice soft and warm, like the only light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. "Nico?" You're voice crackles with sleep as he hears the rustling of your bed covers. 

"Fuck." He swears under his breath, he should've known you'd be asleep at this time. 

"Nico?" You say against softly as you clear your throat, your voice getting a little clearer, he can almost see your soft smile as you coo into the phone, “You did so well today.”

His chest constricts. He wants to believe you, wants to let your words wrap around him and pull him from the pit he’s sinking into. But he can’t. Not tonight.

“We lost.”

The words feel hollow, like they barely scrape the surface of what’s really gnawing at him. He closes his eyes, picturing you— curled up in bed, phone resting against your chest, your expression full of concern. He hates that. Hates that he’s making you worry when you should be sleeping.

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t play well,” you counter, gentle but firm. “Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Silence stretches between you, not the comfortable kind but the sharp, restless kind that makes his stomach twist. He can hear you shifting, probably sitting up now, already sensing that something is wrong. You always do.

“Nico?”

He exhales slowly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I just… I should’ve been better.”

He knows what you’ll say before you even say it. That he’s being too hard on himself. That one game doesn’t define him. But the words don’t stick. They never do. Instead, the weight of the loss coils tighter in his chest, whispering all the things he doesn’t say out loud.

He should’ve done more.

He should’ve led better.

He's let everyone down.

“You still there?” Your voice is softer now, coaxing, as if you’re afraid he’s slipping away.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, but even he can hear how distant he sounds.

The room feels too big, too empty, a sharp contrast to the constant hum of the arena, the roar of the crowd that had faded hours ago. He stands abruptly, dragging a hand through his hair before pacing toward his suitcase. He flips it open, the zipper’s teeth biting into the quiet, and yanks out a hoodie before dropping onto the bed with a weary sigh.

“Nico, talk to me,” you press, voice laced with quiet concern. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Another pause.

“Nothing.” The lie falls easily, too easily. He grits his teeth, feeling the weight of it settle into his bones. “It’s nothing, really… I shouldn’t have even called you this late.”

He hears your breath hitch, barely perceptible, but he knows you well enough to catch it. Knows you’re probably biting your lip, debating how hard to push him.

“Nico, it doesn’t matter what time—”

“I’m gonna try and get some sleep.” The words are clipped, not harsh but final, a closing door. He doesn’t mean to cut you off, but he can’t do this right now.

Can’t drag you into the mess in his head.

A beat of silence.

“Okay,” you say finally, voice softer now. “Just… know you can call me anytime.”

He swallows, guilt curling around his ribs. He wants to tell you that he knows, that he doesn’t deserve you, that your voice is the only thing anchoring him right now. But all he can manage is a quiet hum of acknowledgment before ending the call.

The silence that follows is deafening.

He stares at the ceiling, the glow of his phone screen fading as his grip loosens. Road trips always wear on him, the endless cycle of movement without rest, the constant demand to perform. But this feels different. He feels different.

And you felt it too.

+

+

Nico’s alarm rings through his room at nine - his phone bright with your standard morning greetings. 

Treasure ♥️ : Good Morning! I hope you’re feeling a little better today and easing up on yourself! You know you can call me at anytime, for anything so I hope you’ll call me later tonight. 

Treasure ♥️: I miss you. I love you. 

Nico stares at your messages for a long moment before locking his phone and shoving it into his bag - pulling on his sweat suit and dragging himself out of the hotel for practice. 

He doesn’t answer. 

He doesn’t know how to yet. 

Practice is brutal. Not because it’s anything out of the ordinary, but because he’s off. He feels it in the stiffness of his movements, the half-second delay in his reactions. He sees it in the way the puck bounces off his stick wrong, in the way his passes aren’t as crisp as they should be. His legs feel heavy, every stride more of a struggle than it should be. It’s infuriating.

And his teammates notice.

“Nico, man, you good?” Jack asks after a particularly sloppy drill, skating up beside him. His voice is casual, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it. “You seem a little off.”

“I’m fine,” Nico mutters, tightening his grip on his stick. He isn’t, but admitting that out loud would make it real. He just needs to push through.

Jack doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. He just watches, waiting for a sign to step in, but things don’t get better.

If anything, they get worse. A simple passing drill turns into a mess when Nico miscalculates the weight of his pass, sending the puck bouncing past his teammate’s stick. A two-on-one rush ends with him hesitating just long enough for the defender to poke the puck away. And then, during a scrimmage, he fumbles a breakout pass, turning it over and leading directly to a goal against. He slams his stick against the ice, frustration boiling over.

“Fucking hell,” he hisses under his breath.

“Take a breath, Neek,” Dougie calls from the bench, his tone light but pointed. “It’s just practice.”

Just practice. Right. But it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like every little mistake is proof that last night wasn’t a fluke, that he really is slipping. That he should be better. He forces himself to refocus, to shake off the frustration, but it clings to him like a second skin. When he skates back to the bench, Jack gives him a look.

“Dude, what’s going on?” Jack asks, leaning against the boards. “You’ve been in your head all morning.” Nico exhales sharply, gripping his stick until his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t want to put it into words. But he knows his teammates. They aren’t going to let it go.

“I just—” He stops, jaw clenching. “I should be better.”

Jack’s expression softens. “Nico, we all have off days. Doesn’t mean you’re not still one of the best out here.” Nico doesn’t answer. He just nods, even though the words don’t sink in. He appreciates the effort, but it doesn’t change the weight pressing down on his chest. Practice drags, and by the time it’s over, his body aches in a way that has nothing to do with physical exertion. He peels off his gear in the locker room, silent as the conversations around him blur into background noise. When he finally reaches for his phone, your messages are still there, waiting for him to reply. He types out a quick response, before deleting it, typing out something new before deleting it. 

swiss king 👑 : I miss you too. 

His thumb hovers over the send icon. He wants to say something—anything—but everything feels inadequate. So he does what he does best.

He puts his phone away.

The message still sitting there as he gets on the bus back to the hotel. 

+

+

Your gaze snaps away from the book resting on your lap at the sudden glow of your phone screen against the coffee table. The sharp contrast of light in the dim room makes your heart jump before you even process the name flashing across the display.

‘nico’s favourite son is calling’

Your stomach clenches.

You reach for the phone without hesitation, your fingers fumbling slightly as you swipe to answer. “Jack?”

There’s a brief pause before his voice comes through, steady but carrying an undertone of something… tight. “Hey.” You sit up a little straighter, tucking your legs beneath you. “You got a second?” he asks, and despite the casual delivery, there’s a weight to it.

“Of course.” Your fingers tighten around the phone. “What’s up?”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the muffled sounds of movement—then a door clicks shut in the background, followed by a sharp exhale.

“It’s Nico,” Jack finally says, voice quieter now. “He’s… somethings wrong.”

Your stomach twists.

“I know,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “He called last night.”

Jack’s breath hitches like he wasn’t expecting that. “Yeah?” His tone shifts, laced with something close to relief. “Did he say anything?”

“Not really.” You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “He shut down before I could get much out of him.”

Jack lets out a dry, humourless laugh. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” A pause stretches between you. “Look, I’m not trying to overstep, but… I’ve seen him have bad games before. This isn’t just that.”

You nod instinctively, even though he can’t see you. “I know.”

“He’s in his own head. Worse than usual,” Jack continues, voice tight with concern. “I tried talking to him after practice, but he just brushed it off. And I don’t know, man, he’s my captain, but he’s also my friend, and I hate seeing him like this.”

Your fingers dig into the fabric of your sweater. Your chest feels too tight, breath coming shallow.

“Me too,” you murmur.

Jack hesitates, and you can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, debating whether to say what’s on his mind. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer—cautious, but hopeful.

“I don’t want to put pressure on you or anything, but… if there's any chance you could come out to Vegas—”

“I’m already looking at flights,” you interrupt, reaching blindly for your laptop and flipping it open.

You don’t care about the cost.

You don’t care about the logistics.

None of it matters.

You just need to get to him.

Jack exhales, something close to a relieved chuckle breaking through the tension. “I figured you would.”

Silence lingers, but it isn’t empty. It carries weight, a shared understanding.

Then, softer this time—like a quiet confession—Jack says, “He needs you.”

You swallow hard past the lump forming in your throat. “I know.”

And you’re already on your way.

+

+

The flight feels both agonisingly slow and far too quick. Minutes stretch endlessly in the air, yet before you can fully process the anxiety curling in your stomach, the plane touches down with a jolt. You barely remember taxiing to the gate, your hands moving on autopilot as you unbuckle your seatbelt, grab your bag, and push through the narrow aisle. Every second drags and blurs at the same time, your focus narrowing to one singular goal: getting to him.

As soon as you step into the terminal, you pull out your phone, thumbs flying over the screen as you send a message to Jack.

nico's favourite girlfriend: Just landed. Are you with him?

Jack’s reply is nearly instant, as if he’d been waiting, phone in hand.

nico’s favourite son: He's at the hotel. Room 714. I’ll meet you in the lobby.

You don’t waste time responding, just push through the crowd and hail a cab outside. The city blurs past the window, neon signs bleeding into one another, the hum of distant traffic a low buzz in your ears. You drum your fingers against your knee, restless. The drive is too long, too short and by the time the cab pulls up to the hotel, you’re already moving, tossing a few bills to the driver before stepping out.

Jack is waiting in the lobby, leaning against a column with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. His expression is serious, brows drawn together, but when he sees you, something like relief flickers in his gaze. His lips twitch into something close to a smirk.

“That was fast.”

"It's been two days." You comment softly, you adjust the strap of your bag, scanning his face for any indication of just how bad things are. "Too slow if you ask me." You let out a small laugh as you swipe your hand through your hair, “How has he been?”

Jack exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Still in his head. He didn’t even come to dinner with us.”

Your chest tightens.

That’s not like Nico.

Not at all.

Jack jerks his head toward the elevator. “Come on. I’ll take you up.”

The ride is silent, thick with unspoken words. Jack watches you out of the corner of his eye, like he’s assessing, but you don’t have the space for nerves, for doubt. Not when Nico needs you. The numbers on the elevator panel climb higher and higher, a slow, mechanical ascent that does nothing to calm the hammering of your heart.

When you reach his door, Jack hesitates. His hand lifts like he’s about to knock, but instead, he looks at you. “Do you want me to or do you—”

“I’ve got it.” You offer him a small, grateful squeeze on the arm before stepping forward. Your knuckles rap lightly against the door. “Nico?”

Silence.

You glance at Jack, who lifts an eyebrow but says nothing. Steeling yourself, you try again, voice softer this time. “Baby? It's me. Open the door.”

For a moment, nothing. Then—

A faint shuffle of movement. The click of the lock. The door cracks open just enough for you to see him.

Nico stands in the dim light, hoodie hanging loose around his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the tension in his forearms. His normally shining brown eyes are shadowed, dark circles smudging the skin beneath them. His usually neat hair is a mess, strands sticking up where his fingers have clearly raked through it too many times, his stubble growing in full force. He looks at you wholly, unsure if you're actually there or not - he glances at Jack over your shoulder, his expression dropping further as he glances back over to you.

“Hey,” you say softly.

He blinks, a slow realisation dawning in his gaze. “You didn't have to come. He shouldn't have called you."

“Of course I did.” You step forward, placing a steady hand on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his uneven breathing. “He only called because he was worried about you.” You note the look he sends back over his friend before pushing gently on his chest, nudging him to make way for you to come in the room. 

He doesn’t speak, just moves aside as you slip into the dimly lit room. The air inside is heavy, thick with exhaustion and unspoken thoughts. The blackout curtains are drawn, the only illumination coming from the flickering glow of the TV, muted on some random channel. His bag is open in the corner, clothes spilling out in a way that suggests he never really unpacked, just rifled through in a haze. His shoes are abandoned near the door, haphazard and forgotten, and on the nightstand, a full, untouched bottle of water sits accusingly next to his phone.

You drop your bag near the entrance, turning to face him fully. “Nico…”

He looks at you, lips parting like he wants to speak, but no words come out. Then, all at once, he exhales shakily, his shoulders caving like the weight he’s been carrying has finally crushed him down and before you can process it, his arms are around you, pulling you close, his face burying into your shoulder.

"Oh Nico." You sigh, your arms wrapping around his waist as you soothe gently against his back, your hands dipping under the hem of his hoodie to press against the warm skin as you let out soft whispers. "It's okay." 

He holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, fingers gripping the fabric of your sweater like a lifeline. His breathing is uneven, shallow, and when you feel the smallest tremor against your body, your heart clenches.

Nico isn’t the type to break.

He’s always the one holding everything together—the steady presence, the unshakable foundation. But right now, he’s unraveling, and you can feel just how tightly wound he’s been, how much pressure has been weighing him down.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, grunting a little as he pulls you tighter against him, his breathing still ragged as you draw soft shapes on his skin trying to ground him. “I’m here. I’m always here.”

His grip tightens, a shuddering exhale escaping him. It’s not quite a sob, but it’s close. You don’t ask anything, don’t try to make him speak, just hold him through it. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the way exhaustion pulls at him, and you let him lean on you, let him take what he needs.

Minutes pass, and eventually, his breathing slows, deepens. The rigid set of his shoulders eases, just a fraction.

Finally, finally, you feel him breathe, clearly, softly. 

You can feel the gradual shift in his body, the weight of his exhaustion starting to ease. His fingers, once so tight around you, loosen just a bit, but he doesn’t pull away. He still holds you close, like he’s afraid the moment he lets go, the calm will slip through his fingers. And so, he stays there, in the fragile space between needing to be held and the shame of needing it.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Your voice is quiet, soft, barely a whisper, but the question hangs between you like a heavy fog. You don’t need an answer.

Not really.

You know it’s hard for him to admit any kind of weakness. Nico has always been the strong one. The protector. The one who pushes through, no matter how much it hurts. But now, the cracks are showing, and the weight of it is too much for him to shoulder alone.

He lets out a long, trembling breath and pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are bloodshot, the dark circles under them a testament to the sleepless nights, the worry, the stress that’s been eating at him. His brow furrows as he searches your face, his lips parted, as if he’s trying to find the right words, but they don’t come. "I didn’t want to drag you into this," he finally mutters, his voice hoarse. "I didn’t want you to see me like this."

Your heart aches at the confession. "Nico," you say, your hand reaching up to touch his face, gently brushing away the strands of hair falling into his eyes. "You don’t have to protect me from this. I want to help you, that’s what relationships are — sometimes we have to deal with the deep dark and scary so we can enjoy the rest.” His jaw tightens, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he looks back at you, a mix of gratitude and something else—something darker—lurking beneath the surface.

"I don’t know how to stop it," he admits, the words coming out in a rush, like they’ve been waiting to spill free for far too long. "Every time I think I have a handle on it, something else comes up, and it feels like I’m drowning, and I’m just -“ you can hear the words he’s going to say next before he even says them, your thumbs rubbing softly against his cheek as you nod at him to continue, “I’m just so tired all the time and I don’t know how to fix it.”  The raw vulnerability in his voice hits you harder than anything else could. Nico, the indestructible force, the one who always has the answers, is finally admitting that he doesn’t have it all together. And the weight of that truth settles heavily between you both.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the trembling in your own chest as you pull him closer again, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him back to you as you place a soft kiss against his temple. "You don’t have to fix everything on your own, Nico. You need to take a break and that’s what I’m here for — we all need to let someone else take charge sometimes.” He exhales shakily, his face pressing into your shoulder once more, his grip on you growing tighter as if holding on to you is the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His body is still trembling a little, and you can feel the deep exhaustion in his muscles, in the way he sinks into your embrace like he’s too tired to hold himself up any longer.

"I don’t deserve you," he mutters, the words barely audible against your skin, but you hear them, feel them, and they hurt you in a way you can’t explain. You pull back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. 

“You do.”  His eyes flicker with something—hesitation, maybe. But then he nods, just once, a small, almost imperceptible movement. 

“I do.” He confirms softly. You let the silence stretch between you, both of you still and breathing, the room thick with the weight of everything unsaid. But in that silence, there’s a promise. 

“Are you staying here tonight?” Nico asks, his voice rough, but softer now, the sharp edge of his anxiety dulled by the warmth of your presence.

“Why are you planning on inviting someone else over?” You tease, slowly loosening your grip on him as you take a step away, smiling at the way Nico takes one forwards to keep your space in his. 

“No.” Nico says, his face not lifting at your joke, but you see a small sparkle in the centre of his eye. “I really need you to stay.” 

“Take a break with me?” You ask softly, pointing to his disheveled bed, his head nodding before he even notices.

“Okay.” He breathes slowly as he climbs on the bed next to you, his hand clasping around yours a bringing it softly to his mouth. "I really missed you." He whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles as you smile down at him, his body shuffling closer to yours as he lays his head on your chest, your hands quickly finding their spot tangled in his soft strands.

"I know." you say quickly, "I missed you too."

[clesired]

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 | 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! “could i request a sirius black x black cat!reader? maybe he’s really awkward and whipped for her.” thank you to the lovely anon who requested this <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! you get asked out in the least normal way you can imagine.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! no warnings, fluff, black cat fem!reader, second person pov, 0.9k words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You let out a soft sigh as you stop walking, turning around and coming face to face with none other than Sirius Black.

For an infamous prankster—he sure lacks stealth.

The corridor you’re standing in is empty save for the two of you and Merlin, if Sirius’ footsteps aren’t louder than an angry Hippogriff’s.

“Can I help you, Black?” You raise a brow, crossing your arms.

His eyes quickly dart to something just a little over your shoulder, and you don’t miss the way his fingers nervously drum against his thigh as he attempts to play it casual.

“Just walking through, L/N. Same as you.” He nods slowly, still avoiding eye contact.

You don’t buy it.

Sirius Black doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive.

You step closer to him, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Are you trying to prank me?”

His eyes widen as he straightens up, immediately shaking his head. “What? No!”

You’re about to say something else when you realize he looks…different. Not in a particularly good or bad way—just a very unlike Sirius way.

His hands can’t stay still, he keeps shuffling his feet side to side, his cheeks are tinged with a soft blush, and he can barely look you in the eye.

Yeah, you’re pretty sure you’ve caught him red-handed in the middle of a prank. Why else would he look like that?

Tilting your head, you cross your arms. “Care to share why you’re following me, then?” You ask expectantly.

His cheeks flush further as he flounders for an answer and you raise a brow.

Busted.

He looks down at his feet for a moment as he swallows. “I…” he trails off, and you take another step closer.

“You- I- uh…hair!” He suddenly blurts out, causing you to freeze mid step at the outburst.

Naturally, you look at him like he’s crazy. “What?”

He grimaces for a moment before clearing his throat and trying again. “Your uh- hair. It looks pretty.” He murmurs quietly, clearing his throat.

You furrow your brows in confusion before realization dawns on you and you glare. “Flattery will not get you out of this one, Black. Now what are you up to?”

He struggles yet again for an answer before, “Shoes!”

You look down at your shoes and frown upon not seeing anything out of the ordinary. “What are you talking about? My shoes are just fi-”

“They’re very nice.” He cuts you off, still not looking at you. His cheeks are as red as his tie at this point, and you are no less confused than you were when you started this conversation.

Sighing softly once more, you shake your head. “You’re not making any sense, Black. I just want to know-”

“The robes look good on you.” He interrupts you yet again, cheeks still flaming—but he’s looking at you now, so at least there’s that. “And the shoes, and the hair, and you in general-”

He’s beginning to ramble now, and all you can do is stand there and listen because you have no idea where this conversation is going anymore. Never really did in the first place, it seems, actually.

“Your eyes-” He’s still going, but your attention catches on something else behind him as you hear whispers behind a tapestry.

“Oh, for Godric’s sake-” you hear a voice mutter before Remus Lupin steps out, looking disgruntled as ever.

Two steps behind him is none other than James Potter—who at least has the decency to look sheepish when your eyes land on him.

Peter Pettigrew follows next and quickly scurries to stand somewhat behind the other two boys.

You have no idea when or how they got there without your notice, but in all fairness—when have the Marauders not been a confusing bunch?

Remus huffs, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts and catching your attention once more. “He’s trying to ask you out, L/N.” He explains simply.

You look back at Sirius, who smiles shyly and shrugs.

After a long moment of silence, you scoff. “Why didn’t you just say that!?”

Rather than letting Sirius respond, James steps forward, a lopsided smile on his face. “He can’t help it, L/N. He gets all nervous when he sees you and forgets how to talk, isn’t that right, Pads? Start sounding like Wormtail.”

Sirius nods quickly before looking at you and tilting his head, giving you a small smile.

Maybe it’s because his friends are here now, or simply that the proverbial cat is out of the bag—but for whatever blessed reason, Sirius finds his words. “So, um…would you like to go on the next Hogsmeade trip with me?”

You just stare at him for a few long moments, watching as he begins to shuffle nervously at your silence.

Finally, you raise a brow. “You gonna act normal?”

He nods vehemently, straightening up. “Promise.”

Behind him, the other Marauders are all nodding as well.

“Don’t worry, L/N. We’ll make sure he’s right for your date.” James winks, causing you to roll your eyes in amusement before looking back at Sirius.

“Okay.” You accept, smiling ever so slightly when Sirius breathes out a large sigh of relief and his friends start cheering loudly.

Just before you walk away, you toss one last look back at him.

“By the way, your hair looks pretty today too, Black.”

He smiles so wide it’s almost blinding, and you resume walking down the corridor with a small smirk.

3…2…1…

“Wait a minute, just today!? Oi!” You hear his loud Hippogriff footsteps start up again as he chases after you.

Yeah, he’s definitely back to normal.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! wooh, first post of the new year!!! i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©clesired - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*ੈ✩

[chrisevansonly]

Playing With Fire

Max Verstappen x Female Reader

summary: you and stella are max’s world, and he’d be damned if he let his father speak ill of either of you.

warnings: angst, jos (ew), angry max, slight mentions of crying, fluff at end

a/n: this is a re-upload to see if it shows up in the tags 🥲

When Stella was born, it was one of the best days ever for Max, seeing his baby girl come into the world, and the way she practically latched onto him from the minute she was welcomed into the family. He knew right then and there he would be the absolute best father to his daughter, just as he was the best husband to you, and always had been.

If there was one thing Max nor you completely enjoyed it was family events when everyone got together, including Jos. Max’s father.Max and his father have a complicated relationship, in a way they seem close but there’s always that edge to his dad that keeps all of you on the edge of your seat. You in particular seemed to still be an issue to him, and every once in a while, you’d become the punching bag at the dinner table.

Stella was sleeping in your arms as you sat next to Max at the dinner table, Jos across from you both and his mother on the other end with the rest of his family and some friends that had joined for the monthly get together.

“So when is the next Verstappen coming?” His father asked looking at you. Stella was only 6 months old so you and Max were happy to just enjoy the time you have with her now, not even thinking about another baby.

“Oh, well i’m sure someday we’ll have another…”

“We’re in no rush” Max butted in, assuming it would stop his father’s line of questioning.

“Yes well, it’s just you had a baby girl…there has to be a boy in the equation…”

You furrowed your brows, fixing Stella’s blanket as she continued to sleep, oblivious to the rising tensions in the room.

“I don’t think so? There’s nothing wrong with having girls..”

“Who’s supposed to carry on the name?”

Max sat up straighter, his hand squeezing your knee gently

“Stella will just as our next baby will eventually, regardless of their gender.”

Jos shook his head taking a sip of his water as he sighed, before looking back at you.

“All i’m saying is you should be trying for a boy.”

“Well it doesn’t work that way.”

The table was getting quieter as the father and son squared off, Jos not backing down and Max not about to let his father attack you in anyway. Not on his watch.

“I knew the second you had a daughter it would make you weak, let alone marrying her and having that baby! She’s useless if she can’t have a boy! You’re wasting your time Max, I knew from the second I met her it would ruin our family.”

Used to his harassment you didn’t cry, but it didn’t stop tears from welling up in your eyes as you almost deflated in a way, hugging Stella closer to your chest. The minute your eyes looked to Max, long gone was his soft stare and gentle smile, replaced was a look almost predatory as he looked to his father.

“Watch your fucking mouth when you’re talking about the mother of my child.”

“Max-”

“No, get out.”

“Excuse me?” Jos’s eyes widened and he shook his head

“GET THE HELL OUT!”

Max yelled, slamming his hands down on the table, seconds later Stella stirring before whimpering in your arms. The dutchman froze and looked apologetically at you as you excused yourself to go up to the nursery, only then turning back to look at his father.

“If you ever so much as think about speaking about my wife and daughter again, it’ll be me coming after you. Now get the fuck out.”

Jos didn’t even offer to say anything else, pushing back his chair and storming out, effectively cutting the dinner to an end as everyone left, Max’s mother sticking around to help clean up and of course comfort you afterwards. She had always been close to you and Max and in a way she was like a mother to you too.

“Baby?”

Turning at the sound of your husbands voice you smiled, still holding Stella in your arms, only this time she was much calmer, her eyes lighting up as she spots her dad.

“Hi, everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that…”

Shrugging you let him take Stella from you, his demeanour much more relaxed with his baby girl in his arms as he placed a few kisses to her cheeks.

“I know what your father is like, yes it hurts but I love you and you love me and that’s all that matters…we have a beautiful baby girl, and that man will never be able to change what we have.”

Max nods, bringing you into his side and leaning down to kiss you softly

“You’re right, he can’t. I’ll never let him ever disrespect you like that ever again. No matter what I have to do.”

“I know you won’t Maxie…and I love you very much for it, Stella too, huh baby?”

Stroking her cheek gently she babbled happily, leaning on Max’s shoulder, her hand patting his chest gently

“My girls…I love you both so much, i’ll always protect you both, with my everything.”

Nothing else needed to be said in the moment, all Max needed was his girls and he felt whole. Nothing else mattered because to him he had everything he’d ever wanted in his life. Despite what he went through growing up, Jos had never made his heart turn cold, he made it big enough to hold the love he had for you two, and would always hold, no matter what happened.

Besides, everyone knew messing with the Verstappen girls, was playing with fire.