#please head the warnings on the ao3 link there's a lot

[sickficideas]

hold || BEAST akutagawa sickfic/whump

ao3! 4.7k please refer to the tags in the link for content + warnings!

sicktember 2023, day 6: illness and injury + BEAST AU

Kunikida is speechless, for a second. Akutagawa is lying on the cafe floor in a growing pool of his own dark red blood, with the cafe owner's wife pressing her apron against a wound that couldn't possibly benefit much from something like this.

He thinks for a moment that he's already dead. Ranpo was the one who heard someone scream from downstairs, and he said Akutagawa was the only one missing from the office. There was an urgency in his tone that Kunikida didn't like, but he wasn't expecting this.

Yosano isn't here. He's at a loss of what to do. He's completely still, frozen in the doorway at the end of the staircase, only ripped out of his trance when Oda rushes past him.

What is he doing just standing here? He needs to help him.

"He seemed really confused when he walked in," the cafe owner's wife tells Oda, seemingly in response to a question as he lays him on his back, tearing Akutagawa's shirt open to reveal a deep, clean gash over his abdomen that's still actively bleeding. Kunikida kneels on the opposite side, eyes wide and begging Oda for something he can do to help. "He wasn't making any sense. I only noticed he was bleeding because he was holding a hand over that wound…"

The poor woman is shaking uncontrollably, her hands at her chest, tears in her eyes. Kunikida knows this isn't something she's used to seeing at all.

"We need to get him upstairs. We'll stop the bleeding and stitch this up until Yosano gets back," Oda tells Kunikida, his gaze stern and determined, a rare expression to dawn his face. Kunikida nods.

"I'll - I'll clear the way. Can you carry him?" Kunikida says as he stands up, a little unsteady on his feet, horrified to find the pool of blood has already reached his shoes. Akutagawa's face twitches, his eyes unfocused, color quickly draining from his face.

"He's light," Oda assures him, carefully scooping on arm under his neck and the other under his knees. He hears a sharp groan of pain from him once he's lifted, and Oda apologizes, but Kunikida doesn't think Akutagawa is aware enough to hear him.

The blood is still dripping from his limp form, only adding to the growing puddle on the floor.

Don't let him die. Please don't let him die. He's just a kid. He doesn't deserve to die.

Kunikida runs off after a second too long of hesitation, running up the stairs and making sure all the doors are open to clear the way for Oda.

The infirmary is empty today, luckily. Kunikida searches for the kit that Yosano has set aside for these situations. She's not always here, and their agency suffers injuries rather frequently, so she's made a kit with everything they would need for a situation just like this one.

He lays a few towels over one of the cots, expecting them to become soaked with blood anyway, just in time for Oda to come through the door with him, leaving a trail behind them. He lays him down on that cot, and somehow, Akutagawa looks even worse than before.

"Oda, he -"

"I know. We have to be fast. I won't let him bleed out," Oda says with great urgency in his voice.

So, they get to work.

Kunikida sits beside Akutagawa’s small frame and holds pressure against the wound with a spare towel, worried it isn't doing much at all with how the blood starts to spread on the towels underneath him, but it's slowed significantly compared to before.

Oda had already ripped open the surgical kit and laid it out on the table beside the cot. Neither of them are surgeons, neither of them have any medical training aside from things that Yosano has shown them for emergencies, but that's what this is - an emergency. They need to stop the bleeding and close the wound and keep him safe until Yosano can get here and fix him.

Kunikida's eyes drift to Akutagawa’s face as Oda starts to put on the latex gloves. His face is as white as a sheet, but his cheeks are a blotchy pink. He's covered in a thin sheet of sweat, too, and Kunikida remembers he was looking pale this morning before he left. Is he sick?

He reaches for Akutagawa's forehead, but Oda's gloved hand grabs his wrist before he can get close enough. The wild look in his eyes tells him he's seen something. Don't touch him. Kunikida comes to the conclusion that he’s seen something with his ability - a scary thought, considering it only works in life-or-death situations.

He's done that before. Akutagawa is very particular about certain things, especially with how he’s handled. Kunikida is afraid to know why.

"I think he has a fever," Kunikida says, lowering his hand back against the towel as Oda changes out the glove.

"I was thinking the same," Oda says with a sigh. "He told me it was the heat this morning."

That sounds about right. Kunikida has been struggling to get Akutagawa to admit when he isn't feeling well. He's worried that this is somehow related to how he suffered this injury, but he doesn't have time to feel guilty about it now.

Oda is ready to clean and close the wound.

Kunikida lifts the towel, slowly, fearing bits of it might stick to the wound, but it seems he's gotten lucky.

"This will sting," Oda says, as if Akutagawa has shown even a single sign that he can hear him. Kunikida keeps a hand against his shoulder, just in case, and it seems he's made the right call. As soon as the gauze pads he's using to clean the wound come into contact with his open skin, he screams.

His entire back arches up and away from Oda, and Kunikida is lucky he had a hand on him, or else he would've fallen off the bed. Kunikida lays him back on his back and takes his hand and squeezes it hard.

"You're okay. Stay still," Kunikida says, keeping a firm grip on his hand as Akutagawa’s face twists up from the pain he's in. It feels cold, which makes no sense when he's got a fever. Oda keeps saying he'll be fine. Kunikida wants to believe him, but what will he do if Akutagawa dies here?

"Normally he has a high pain tolerance," Oda says quietly, briefly looking over his face before he turns back to what he was doing.

"I know this is painful. But you have to endure it until Yosano gets here," Kunikida tells him. "I know you've endured worse, Akutagawa. You'll be fine."

It's more a reassurance to himself, but somehow, for some reason, some of the tension starts to leave his body.

"Keep talking to him," Oda says quietly.

Kunikida freezes, for a moment. He doesn’t let go of his grip on Akutagawa’s hand, convinced it’s comforting him somehow, but he doesn’t know what to say. His hand is hot and clammy, and Kunikida would really like to get this coat off of him, but they have more pressing matters at the moment.

“About what?” Kunikida asks.

“Anything,” Oda answers.

Kunikida wracks his brain for something. Anything.

“That woman you helped the other day came by to thank you this morning. But you left already,” Kunikida remembers, the image of the woman bowing in the doorway coming to mind. She wanted to thank Akutagawa personally, and Kunikida had to be the one to tell her he had already left. “The one whose dog was missing. You spent all day looking for it last week.”

Oda looks up for a moment, like this is a new story to him. Kunikida thinks he was out working on something else when this happened. Kunikida looks over as Oda starts to stitch the wound closed, and his stomach twists at the sight. Normally, this sort of thing doesn’t bother him, but the fact that it’s Akutagawa hurts him.

“Junichiro told me you’re afraid of dogs,” Kunikida says quietly. “That you were attacked by one when you lived in the slums. And one of your friends was killed by a dog.”

Kunikida had heard it before, vaguely, when he first met Akutagawa. He’d expressed his distaste for dogs and explained his reasoning. A few months following that, a client with a service dog appeared, and Junichiro spent most of the time assuring Akutagawa that there was zero chance the dog would try to hurt him, but even so, he spent that entire time hiding in Yosano’s office.

Kunikida never blamed him for it. He has a perfectly valid reason not to want to associate with dogs, but Junichiro was adamant on trying to show Akutagawa that most dogs were in fact very friendly. He managed to do it not long ago. One of their regular clients in Chinatown has a wonderful dog, and while on a job with Akutagawa there, he somehow managed to coax him into petting the dog. Junichiro said he only did it once, with a shaky hand, but he relaxed after realizing it wasn’t out to get him.

It licked his hand, too. Akutagawa was frozen stiff at that, apparently. But Junichiro made it very clear that he was proud of him, and he seemed to take that in stride.

“I’m proud of you. You had every reason to pawn off that request to one of us. But your ability is quite useful for search and rescue, and you used it to help someone with something you’re not very fond of. That’s not easy,” Kunikida tells him.

He sees Oda nod. Just once, but it’s enough for Kunikida to learn he feels the same way. Kunikida’s eyes shift down to the wound to find it’s still at least halfway open, and he turns his attention back to Akutagawa.

He uses his free hand to lean back and scramble through the other drawer for a thermometer, and manages to find one.

“Do you think he’ll let me take his temperature?” Kunikida asks quietly.

“Just tell him,” Oda says.

“Can he hear me?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s good if he can at least feel a familiar voice. He’ll react if he’s afraid,” Oda says. Kunikida knows he has lots of experience with things like that. Kunikida has to admit he’s afraid himself. Akutagawa’s ability isn’t something he can defend himself against. One wrong move, and his head will roll over the pristine tile floor.

“Okay,” Kunikida says with a quiet sigh. “Akutagawa, I need to take your temperature. This one has to go under your tongue to get a good reading.”

Akutagawa is still unresponsive of course, but his lips part by a centimeter. Kunikida takes the chance to carefully slide it past and under his tongue, and Akutagawa doesn’t fight back.

He holds his breath as the thermometer gets a reading, and the numbers start to climb slowly. At first, it stops at one hundred and one point two, and he thinks he can live with that, but it keeps going. A hundred and two. A hundred and three. And then, finally, the numbers stop changing when it hits a hundred and three point seven.

“Shit,” Kunikida breathes out as he takes the thermometer back, “Almost a hundred and four.”

“We’ll work on trying to cool him down when I’m done here,” Oda says calmly as Kunikida sets the thermometer down. He sees Akutagawa’s eyebrows twitch as the needle pierces his skin, and once the suture starts to pull through, his whole body goes tense and he whimpers, nearly doing the same as before in some effort to get away. Oda stills, and Kunikida realizes he should keep talking to him,

"You have to tell me next time you're not feeling well," he says with a quiet huff, sneezing Akutagawa’s hand tight again. "I should have come with you today. Maybe you wouldn't have ended up like this."

Oda has told him before that Akutagawa will likely always be that way. He’s spent most of his life looking after younger defenseless children. Admitting illness or injury was not an option for him, and even if it were, he’s learned to push through until he physically can’t anymore.

It’s heartbreaking, really. No child should have to grow up that way.

Kunikida wishes they had found him sooner.

Akutagawa murmurs something, a short sentence that’s so slurred together it hardly sounds like anything at all, and Kunikida can’t make out what he’s saying. He looks to Oda, hoping for an answer.

"That's his sister's name," Oda says quietly. "He's hallucinating."

"Shit," Kunikida breathes.

…

"Don't move so much, Ryuunosuke," Gin says quietly.

Ryuunosuke goes still at the sound of her voice, he hasn’t been able to hear anything up until now. Any sound that hits his ears is so muffled that he can’t understand it, but Gin’s voice is as clear as a bell.

He’s not entirely sure what’s happening right now. His arm feels numb. He fell asleep while he was supposed to be keeping watch during a cold night, and he woke up to a wild dog trying to tear his arm off.

He doesn’t remember much after that. He has been suffering from a fever the past few days, somehow managing to hide it from Gin and the others, but it’s weighed him down so much that his whole body feels like lead. Everything is so hot, even when he knows it’s just about freezing outside their very poorly insulated shelter.

“He looks really bad, Gin,” he hears another voice say. Ryuunosuke wants more than anything to sit up and prove he’s okay, but he can’t even bring himself to open his mouth to speak. He thinks it’s Yuji. His vision is so blurred and unfocused.

“I know,” Gin answers back. Her voice is shaking.

She’s doing something to his arm. He’s lying on the ground, he thinks. He turns his head to the side to see what she’s doing, and there’s a bottle of alcohol they stole a few months ago and and old, fairly clean towel that she’s dabbing against his arm. His arm is littered with bite marks, a row of particularly bad ones on his upper arm where the skin is torn so much that it makes him nauseous to look at.

The dog. Right, the dog did that.

Where did it go? Is it still around? He has to get rid of it before it comes back to hurt Gin, he can’t let -

“Relax, Ryuu, please,” Gin says a little sternly. “The dog is dead. It’s okay. We’re safe.”

He does as she’s said, but it’s truly relieving to hear that. As long as they’re safe.

“The dog killed Hana, Akutagawa,” he hears the other voice say.

His stomach twists.

He hears Gin gasp. “Yuji, don’t - ”

“He needs to know,” Yuji snaps back. “It killed her before it got to you. We think you killed it after it woke you up, but you were so out of it by the time we got back…”

Hana was just six years old. She had absolutely no way of defending herself against a rabid dog. She was Sayaka’s little sister. How is he going to face her? It’s his fault that she’s dead. He’s been so sick that he couldn’t keep himself awake long enough to protect her like he was supposed to, while the others were out looking for food.

“It’s not your fault. It could’ve happened to any of us,” Gin says quietly, her voice breaking towards the end. Ryuunosuke doesn’t even want to think about the state they found Hana in. Gin can say what she wants, but it is his fault. He wasn’t strong enough to power through his illness and stay awake after a sleepless night.

If he could cry, he would.

He’s in and out of consciousness for a while. Gin and Yuji’s voices start to blend into one another, and eventually, they just become muddled noise. He thinks he might have thrown up at some point, but he’s not sure. He didn’t have anything in his stomach either way. He’s terrified to eat when he’s sick. He can’t waste the group’s food by throwing up.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when he sees Gin lie down next to him. When he’s aware enough of his surroundings after a while, he realizes he’s lying on the old mattress. He’s only slept on it once, a while back when he was badly injured. He would much rather the others use such a precious resource. He doesn’t deserve to.

“I think your fever went down a little,” Gin says quietly. Her voice is clear again. Ryuunosuke can finally see her face. Her eyes are so red. She looks exhausted. Ryuunosuke tries to get up. He needs to keep watch so she can rest, but her hand is all she needs to push him back down. “You’re still very sick, Ryuu. Please don’t get up.”

His body hurts. It’s not numb anymore. His arm is in so much pain that he would much rather rip it off, he’s sure that would hurt less.

“Yuji took a few of the others to see if they could get some medicine from the Sheep in exchange for something,” she says.

Ryuunosuke strongly objects to this. They only go to the Sheep for help in very, very serious and dire situations. He’s not important enough for something like that, and even if he were, he should have gone to do it himself.

“I hope they can get some,” Gin says quietly. “I heard there’s a kind of medicine that can help with your fever and your pain at the same time…I hope that’s what they can get from them.”

“S…Sayaka,” Ryuunosuke barely manages to croak out. It takes everything in him, and he knows he won’t be able to follow up with more.

“She’s going to be fine, Ryuunosuke,” Gin tells him gently. “She wants you to get better, so you need to do that for her. Okay?”

Ryuunosuke is consumed by guilt. Sayaka has lost her little sister. Ryuunosuke can’t imagine that kind of grief. He’s haunted by the fear of something happening to Gin. He has to protect her. He can’t live without her. It isn’t fair.

His eyes feel like they’re burning. He hates that feeling. His whole body is shaking and he feels nauseous.

"Shh, hey. It's okay," she tells him gently. He thinks he might be crying, but he’s not sure. It's a rare moment where she needs to comfort him. Sometimes he's so far out of his own mind that he can't keep his emotions to himself, like he’s trained himself to do. He hates that Gin has to be the one to deal with it. He doesn’t deserve her.

He never deserved her.

…

A hundred and three point nine. Kunikida curses to himself as he shows Oda the thermometer.

“I’m going to place an IV for him,” Oda says without a moment of hesitation, already on his way to Yosano’s supply cabinet to get what’s necessary to start it up. It might not be a bad idea in general, Akutagawa has thrown up twice already even while only half-conscious, and he’s sure that hasn’t been the first time today. It’s without a doubt that he’s dehydrated. Maybe being on IV fluids will help with his fever. At least a little more than the washcloths, he hopes.

The door to the infirmary opens, and Kunikida turns his head to find Ranpo standing there. He’s surprised to see him. Junhiciro and Kenji were here for a while, both begging for direction on what to do to help, so he was expecting one of them.

"Yosano will be here in an hour," Ranpo tells the two of them, taking a few steps closer. He’s been trying to reach her for the past few hours. "How's he holding up?"

"Not good," Oda says quietly, already at Akutagawa’s side, cleaning a spot on his arm to prepare to place the needle. "His fever's worse. The wound is infected, I think."

“Yosano will fix him,” Ranpo assures him sternly.

“I know. I just hate that he’s suffering right now,” Oda says quietly. “He doesn’t deserve to.”

“You’re doing what you can to help,” Ranpo tells him. Kunikida is a little stunned to hear him so serious, but he must know this is a very serious situation, regardless of Yosano’s involvement. Akutagawa is suffering greatly. “I’m assuming a hospital isn’t an option in the meantime.”

“No. He won’t let strangers touch him while he’s like this,” Oda says.

“Trafficking,” Ranpo deduces.

“Yes.”

A chill runs up Kunikida’s spine. Another thing he'd forgotten about. He hadn’t forgotten it, really, more pushed it to the back of his mind, but it makes perfect sense why he wouldn’t want anyone unfamiliar near him while he’s like this. God, Kunikida feels sick to his stomach.

“He feels safe with Kunikida. I’m not worried about anything here,” Oda tells Ranpo.

Kunikida pauses. “Does he?”

Oda nods. “Well, he hasn’t tried to attack you yet. Since that first time.”

He’s glad to hear that. It makes sense. Ever since Oda has told him to talk to him, he’s relaxed the smallest bit.

“Any idea what happened?” Oda asks as Ranpo approaches the cot. Kunikida briefly eyes him. He watches his brow furrow upon looking over Akutagawa’s form.

“Clean cut from a katana. He was tasked with hunting down a samurai who had escaped police custody today. We got word that he’s been detained, but evidently, he was cut in the struggle to capture him. It looks like it was torn open more from moving. Explains why he was bleeding so much when he got to the cafe,” Ranpo says as effortlessly as usual, “He probably opened it. And only made the mistake of getting cut because of his fever, I’m sure.”

Kunikida clicks his tongue. Dammit. He should have gone with him.

“Thank you, Ranpo,” Oda says.

“Anytime. Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be in the office,” Ranpo says, and before long at all, the infirmary door shuts behind him on his way out.

Kunikida keeps a tight grip on Akutagawa’s hand, even after Oda successfully places the IV. He’s doing well. “Yosano will be here soon.”

He’s telling Akutagawa, but it’s a reassurance to himself, too.

And only about half an hour later, Yosano arrives in a hurry, and uses her ability to heal Akutagawa’s wound. Kunikida shudders as he watches it melt away like it was never there. She thanks both of them for doing everything they could to keep it under control before she arrived.

It’s only half the battle, of course. Yosano can heal fatal injuries, but Akutagawa was suffering from a fever even before he received that, and there’s nothing she can do about his fever with her ability. She says his body will need time to recover from being healed regardless, so she would like him to stay in the infirmary.

Kunikida doesn’t leave his side, and he catches his eyes start to flutter open with a strained, weak groan as Akutagawa’s heavy eyelids force themselves up.

He looks confused about where he is. He makes the mistake in assuming he will quickly figure it out, because very quickly his eyes blow wide open, and he looks like he wants to get up and start running, but Kunikida forces a hand on his chest to keep him down. Oda’s head whips around, fear in his eyes, and Kunikida remembers he needs to speak to him.

"You're at the Agency," Kunikida tells him gently. “You’re safe.”

There's tears in his eyes. Kunikida can’t be sure why. Fear? Pain? Relief? He still tries to move to prop up his elbows, but Kunikida pushes him down one more time, and Akutagawa gives up trying.

"Don't move too much. That took a lot out of you, you need to rest your body," Kunikida tells him gently. "You did a good job, kid. I’m proud of you."

Akutagwa relaxes.

…

Four days later, Yosano declares Akutagwa fever-free and clears him to return to work. She’s glad for it. The last day, it was just a low-grade one, and he repeatedly insisted he was fine to return to work and did not need to be handcuffed to the cot, but she didn’t let him go. Kunikida isn’t sure that the two of them are a good combo, but he’s thankful that she helped him recover.

Yosano says he seems to be a bit more sickly than normal. It shouldn’t have taken him four days to recover from a fever, but she tells Kunikida it’s something she’ll address at a later time.

Akutagawa takes a seat at his desk across from Kunikida. He’s silent. He’s been told by Fukuzawa that he isn’t allowed to go off without a partner anymore, to prevent this from happening again. Kunikida knows he isn’t happy about that, but something seems off.

"How are you feeling?" Kunikida asks him, closing his laptop.

Akutagawa just nods. He opens one of the reports on his desk, and just stares at a page that doesn’t have much on it, pretending to be busy.

"You look much better," Kunikida says. He does. The color in his face his back, finally, but the circles under his eyes are still dark. "Junichiro will be going with you on jobs for a while. I don't like you working by yourself, Akutagawa."

He just nods again. Just once. He doesn’t want Kunikida to keep talking to him, clearly.

"What's going on with you?" Kunikida asks. Unfortunately for him, he won’t back down until he knows what's going on, this time. He needs to look out for him. Akutagawa has spent far to long doing that all for himself.

A shake of his head.

"Talk to me, Akutagawa,” Kunikida says after a little sigh.

"I didn't sleep well," he admits, suddenly. He doesn’t lift his head. His eyes look unfocused. He’s somewhere else.

Kunikida frowns. "Are you still not feeling well?"

"I keep having nightmares about her," he says very quietly.

Kunikida feels his stomach drop. "Your sister?"

Akutagawa nods. "I miss her."

Kunikida hates to see him like that. Akutagawa is very, very hard to read. Kunikida often wonders how Oda managed to find a kid just as expressionless as he is, but in moments like these, Kunikida catches just a glimpse of his pain. He wishes he could take it away.

“We’ll find her, Akutagawa. I know we will,” Kunikida tells him. He has no way of assuring him that, but he wants to have hope, too. He knows how important she is to him. Kunikida was there when he was crying for her in the middle of the night, just a few days ago, while he was tasked with watching him through the worst of his fever. He was heartbroken by it.

Another slight nod from him.

“Let’s go down to the cafe,” Kunikida says. “I forgot to get coffee this morning.”

“The cafe?” Akutagawa parrots, tiling his head. Kunikida did, in fact, get his coffee this morning, but he has time in his schedule this morning to go down there with Akutagawa.

“Yes. You like their tea, right?” Kunikida asks.

“I do,” Akutagawa confirms. Kunikida stands up, and Akutagaa gingerly follows suit.

“Okay, then we’ll go,” he says.

Akutagawa is a little confused. He’s still worn out, Kunikida thinks. He stands up and agrees to come with him, but he doesn’t understand the point. His eyes start to unfocus again.

“Akutagawa,” Kunikida starts before they head anywhere. Akutagawa’s eyes turn up. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

He’s learned not to cross boundaries with him without asking, and he sort of expects Akutagawa to say no, but he nods, just once. Kunikida moves forward to hold him, tight. His hands shake a little. He's so thankful he’s okay. The entire ordeal was a lot on him too, even after his injury was healed. He learned quite a bit about Akutagawa through that, despite him being unresponsive for most of the time.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Kunikida tells him. Akutagawa stiffens.

But to his surprise, his arms come up from his sides, and he hugs Kunikida back.

[slut4thebroken]

Sweet Dreams

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Tommy Shelby x daughter!reader

Summary | Tommy let’s you try some of his whiskey.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, actual incest, technically non con, large age gap (unspecified), breeding/housewife kink, somno, underaged drinking (pretend the legal age is 21 over there lol), kissing, praise, innocence & corruption kink, daddy but not the kink, I want him to take advantage of me so bad😭

Words | 2.4 k

Notes | I shouldn’t even have to say this but this is a work of fiction. Please remember that lmao. Also it’s unspecified but reader is at least 18 so don’t come for me 💀 It’s also unspecified on whether reader is his bio daughter or step daughter so feel free to choose lol.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

(You can only read this fic if you pinky promise to help me come up with a different title)

You were lying on his chest as he read a story to you, trying to get you to finally fall asleep. But your brain was too awake. When he grabbed his glass from the side table and paused reading to take another sip, you decided to ask him. 

“What’s that, daddy?” You angled your head up to look at his face. 

“It’s whiskey, love.” Your eyes moved between his face and the glass. 

“Can I try some?” You finally asked, making his brows shoot up. 

“This drink isn't for little girls. You’ll have to wait until you’re older.” He chuckled, making you frown. 

“Why can’t I try some now?” You pouted. 

“Because you’re too young, love. Give it a couple years, then I’ll let you have some.” You turned onto your stomach and leaned up to face him better. 

“Please, daddy?” You gave him puppy dog eyes and he stared at you for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. 

“Alright, fine. But just one sip.” You beamed at that and grabbed the glass when he handed it to you. Before tasting it, you decided to sniff it first, noting that it smells like how he sometimes smells. Not able to wait any longer, you took a small sip, then immediately scrunched your face up in disgust. He laughed quietly and you swallowed it, but that only made it worse. 

“It burns!” You whined, coughing lightly. 

“You get used to it, little one.” He said with an amused smile. “Try some more, it should be better this time.” You hesitated, but took another sip. It wasn’t better, it still burned a lot and you could barely take it. “Good girl. Have a little more.” 

“Daddy, it hurts.” 

“I know, love, but if you drink more it’ll stop hurting. Don’t you trust me?” You averted your gaze and bit your lip. After a moment, you brought the glass up to your lips again. “That’s my girl.” He said proudly, making you blush. You coughed again, but he wasn’t wrong, the burn was just barely starting to improve. 

“You’re such a good girl. Drink a little more for me, eh?” You pouted, but nodded and took another sip, this one slightly larger. “There you go… How do you feel, princess?”

“Warm.. n’fuzzy.” That made him laugh quietly. 

“Yeah?” You nodded. “That’s good. Can you do one last thing for daddy?” 

“Mhm.” You could feel yourself getting a little drowsier and you weren’t sure why. 

“Can you finish the rest for me?” You looked at how much was left and whined quietly, but agreed. Figuring it’d be better to get it over with quickly, you chugged the rest, ignoring how much your throat was hurting. “Good girl. You are such a good girl for me, baby.” He took the cup and set it on the side table, along with the book he was reading to you. “Tell me how you feel now.” 

“Mm… sleepy.” You mumbled, making him smile. 

“Don’t try to fight it, love, just go to sleep. It’s past your bedtime anyway.” You let out an incoherent agreement, then laid your head on his chest again, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders. You weren't so tired that you fell asleep instantly, but you were tired enough where you could barely keep your eyes open. 

Tommy stared down at you as he stroked your hair, soothing you to sleep. You turned more on your stomach and lifted your leg so it was bent and resting over his legs. One of his hands moved down to your bare thigh and rubbed slowly, staying below the hem of your night dress. 

“My sweet girl.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head. You hugged him tighter and he was suddenly very aware of your breasts against his side. “Getting so grown up…” He sighed solemnly. “Thought I told you not to do that? I oughta punish you for disobeying your father.” He suddenly squeezed your thigh and you let out a quiet noise, but didn’t react any other way besides that. 

He kept dragging his hand up and down your thigh, pushing your dress up a little higher each time. For a while, he continued that, waiting until your breathing slowed and you started to fall asleep. He smiled at the sound of your soft snores and brushed your hair away from your face as he looked down at you. Cupping your cheek, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip— so soft… so kissable. He had to shake his head to get rid of the thought as soon as it appeared. You’re too innocent and pure. He’d never be able to forgive himself if he took that from you. But fuck… 

You smiled a little in your sleep and hugged him tighter, pushing your cunt against his hip as your leg rested on his crotch. He stiffened and bit his lip, trying to control his thoughts and his body. But he couldn’t help it when his hand drifted from your cheek to the strap of your dress. He teased it a little, silently debating if he should… It didn’t take much convincing though. 

Slowly pushing the strap down your arm, he just barely brushed his fingertips on your skin. He continued dragging it down until the nightie was being pulled as well, slowly exposing more of you. He only stopped once it was resting on your waist. 

“Fuck.” He hissed, staring at your young, perky breast and hardened nipple. He lowered his hand so it was holding your hip, then raised the one on your thigh to lightly trace over the soft skin. You just looked so young— so little. Especially when he cupped your breast, completely engulfing it in his hand. He knew that your pussy would be just as little. The thought had him biting his lip to stifle a groan, feeling his cock twitch in his pants under your leg. 

He squeezed and groped you slowly, being extra gentle while he still had the self control to do so. When he moved his attention to your nipple and started rolling it between his fingers, you let out a quiet little sound, just barely audible. 

He placed his palm flat on your chest and slowly snaked it down your body, to the bottom of your dress. Without any hesitation, he snaked his hand back up, taking the fabric with it. He cursed under his breath as more and more of your body was becoming visible.

You were perfect. You looked like innocence personified. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he gently pushed your shoulder to get you to lay on your back, making you whine quietly. 

“I know, sweet girl. It’s okay.” He whispered, kissing your head as he turned on his side to face you. He ran his hand over the soft skin of your tummy and down to your hips, where the plain cotton panties rested. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmured, almost dreamily. As his hand continued to explore your body, he tugged down the other side of your dress, then moved his head closer and gently kissed your nipple. He took it into his mouth, suckling on the hard bud and moaning quietly against you. The only reaction you gave was a soft sound and a small shift of your body. 

“Are you gonna let daddy see your pretty pussy?” His voice was quiet, but thick with arousal. “Shake your head if you don’t want me to.” He chuckled quietly, as he kissed over your breast, just enjoying having his lips on you. When you didn’t respond, he got up and moved between your legs, settling on his stomach between them. Rough hands were placed on your thighs, prying them apart to give himself more room. 

He leaned down and inhaled deeply, savoring your scent. With a low groan, he started mouthing at your cunt, licking and sucking through the panties just to tease himself. Your hips squirmed a little and a quiet moan left you, making his eyes snap up to your face, but you were still fast asleep. After only a few more seconds, he pulled back so he could move your underwear to the side, exposing your glistening cunt. 

“Do you like when daddy touches you like this? Is that why you’re so wet already?” He asked teasingly, not expecting a response. Using his thumbs, he pulled your folds apart, giving him a better view of your untouched pussy. “My perfect little girl…” He sighed, unable to tear his eyes away. 

He moved his thumbs closer and pulled your hole open a little, imagining how it’d look stretched open on his cock. The thought had him grinding against the bed like a fucking teenager. He desperately wanted to force his fat cock inside, split you open and push it in deep. He wanted you to cry and beg him to stop, to tell him how much he was hurting you. 

He wanted to bury his cock in your torn up, used little pussy, press the tip right up against your cervix and fuck you full of his come. He wanted to give you load after load, not stopping until he fucked a baby into you. Even though, realistically, that could never be allowed to happen, he enjoyed picturing you with a round belly, your breasts swollen with milk. He wanted to keep you at home, safe from the world, to raise all of the babies he fucks into you, cook him dinner every night, drain his balls whenever he needs it. 

“Fuck—” He choked out, suddenly getting on his knees between your legs, opening his pants to free his cock. He stroked himself slowly a few times, gaze dragging all over your body. “See what you fucking to do me?” He hissed, slapping his cock on your clit a few times. Practically holding his breath, he dragged the tip through your folds, covering himself in your slick. He held his cock right up against your entrance, breathing heavily and closing his eyes, shaking his head to convince himself not to do it. 

He’d hate himself for the rest of his life… But would that be worth it to feel you stretched past your limit around his cock? 

“No.” He decided, clearing his throat and opening his eyes again. “No. Not— not yet…” He leaned over your body, keeping his length firmly between your cunt and his stomach, then started grinding slowly. He watched your brows scrunch together a little when you felt the constant rubbing on your clit. 

Dragging his gaze over the rest of your face, he finally settled on your lips. He leaned closer, trying to steady his breathing as his eyes grew heavier until they finally shut, only a second before he pressed his lips to yours. You didn’t kiss back— obviously— but he enjoyed feeling your soft lips against his. Growing needier, his hips sped up as he deepened the kiss, licking into your mouth, practically devouring you. 

You let out a muffled sound and started squirming a little, making him pull back. As he panted, he watched your heavy eyes trying to flutter open. 

“Daddy?” You mumbled, voice laced with sleepiness. “What…” You trailed off, unable to get out any other words, and he shushed you softly. 

“Don’t worry, little one. I’m here.. you’re okay.” He murmured, kissing your forehead and cupping your cheek, the movement of his hips never faltering. “Just go back to sleep. You’re safe with daddy.” And you believed him. You stopped trying to open your eyes and relaxed into the bed again. He resumed the kiss, keeping the intensity from before as he pushed his tongue in your mouth and moved his hand from your cheek to your jaw to tilt your head up a little more. 

“Daddy…” You tried to say, voice coming out in a pathetic, muffled whine. He hummed in response, not pulling back to bother with verbally replying. His free hand moved to cup your breast, groping and kneading until you were letting out quiet little sounds into the kiss. You whimpered when he started pinching and pulling on your nipple. 

“Shh… It’s okay, love.” He said softly, only pulling away to speak before immediately diving back into the kiss. His hand strayed from your breast, dragging all over your body, feeling every inch of skin possible. 

He broke away from your lips so he could trail kisses along your jaw, then down your neck. His cock throbbed at the idea of covering you in marks— claiming you so everyone knew who you belonged to. But he knew he couldn’t if he wanted this to happen again. So he continued kissing your skin, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume. Everything about you was absolutely perfect. 

“I can’t wait to feel your cunt.” He whispered into the crook of your neck, his breathing growing more labored. “You’re such a good little girl, aren’t you? And all mine.” He was rambling as he neared his release, far quicker than he would’ve liked. “All fucking mine. You belong to daddy, eh? These perfect tits,” he suckled on your nipples, quickly and eagerly, “belong to daddy. Your pretty little cunt belongs to daddy.” He growled, cock twitching at the thought. “You’re mine.”

He cursed under his breath when he felt his balls tighten up. Lifting himself so he was sitting on his knees, he rapidly fisted his cock, keeping your panties pulled to the side. As soon as the first ropes of come shot out onto your cunt, he let out a low groan at the sight. He grunted and moaned, breathing heavily as he watched all of his come land on your folds. He waited until the last drop beaded on the tip, then dragged his cock through your slit, spreading his arousal. He moved it down toward your hole and just barely pushed his cock forward to get some of it inside.

“Good girl.” He said through a heavy breath, admiring you for another moment before fixing your underwear and night dress, then tucking his cock back in his pants. He stopped again and just stared at you for a few seconds. Your cheeks were a little flushed from the alcohol and probably also the stimulation on your clit, and your lips were just barely parted as you breathed quietly. “Made daddy feel so good.” He whispered as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. You let out an incoherent sound, making him smile. “Sweet dreams, little one.” 

Taglist (join here)

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[thatdeadaquarius]

HELP I JUST HAD A THOUGH

WHAT IF

What if....

Blunt reader became a harbinger

I have NO idea how that would go but im here for the crack lol

I BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-

(and to use this gif more importantly they're all so hot here lol)

Sun: Reader (you/they/them), Blunt Language AU :D

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, crack treated srsly (yes im using ao3 tags atp)

Stars: Harbingers!

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: none known & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

SO thought I’d update anyone missing out bc of the new year but-

I made this silly thing called Blunt Language AU, that was my 1st post for this blog/fandom actually! :D

I’ll link it here, but TLDR: it’s just our modern speech sounding “ancient” to the Teyvatians, who speak really flowery/fluffy/lots of context in comparison!

That’s all you rlly need to know to read this I think, so enjoy! :)

☆

u fall into Genshin Impact, and Snezhnaya is where you land first type of energy lol

weird golden star falling from the sky? that sounds like a prophecy the Tsaritsa knows abt alright

so they sent Childe, one of the friendliest (if not The Friendliest) Harbinger, to see if it was a valid claim you’d finally descended,

and ofc as soon as the redhead heard you try and talk to him, he knew the claims by the small village nearby (who had taken u in from the cold weather/taken care of you) were legit

pantalone did manage to squeeze some examples of what you’d possibly sound like into his head before he left so while Childe personally has a tough time talking to you, it doesn't mean he’s not willing to try!! >:)

he mostly just kept asking questions forever until he understood what you meant, and as soon he got u were asking abt the Tsaritsa, the other Harbingers, himself, even how to get Sneznayan-made clothes lol

he was like: 👀👀👀???!!!!

it wasn't so much recruitment at first as it was “omg the exalted one wishes to learn abt us, the Tsaritsa and her Harbingers? abt me?? well would your highness like to come to our palace perchance???!!!!”

= have u ever been seduced and worshipped by a god and her country?? would you like to- ??? ← Childe actually

and with that convinces you to come straight to the Harbingers/Tsaritsa’s very home

No, you’re not just spoiled.

No, you’re not just pampered.

You are cosseted and coveted.

The Tsaritsa makes her first in person appearance to the people in decades to personally announce your return, and to get a festival going to literally parade you into the capital lol

And tbh it was kind of shocking how quickly the people of Snezhnaya are able to whip out the party supplies, within days of traveling via horses/sleds/carriage/trains all kinds of transportation, u arrived at the capital in full swing of a parade for you

The Tsaritsa herself in what looks like a genshin-ified kokoshnik, the elaborate headress draped with a veil so thin it looks like frost covering her face,

flocked on either side by her harbingers in full (kinda goth) ceremonial outfits waiting on your arrival too

needless to say you are properly smitten intimidated

and you stay nervous around them for the first few days or so,

that is before you run into the weekly, what you would call “family dinner nights”, but they call “dinner reports”…

in which Childe, the only one you’d been comfortable enough around to be a bit more genuine to, and surprisingly the only one to quickly adapt to your speech after traveling with you for days, would translate for you what tf you were saying to them vs. what everyone at the table was saying to you/around you

you would also like to propose other titles for these weekly dinner meetings you’re invited to, aka “family feud dinner night/family fight night/harbinger on harbinger hate night/fruit on fruit crimes, if you will” 💀

the Tsaritsa is just peacefully talking to you abt any and everything, bc ofc Pierro’s on her right, and ur on her left

(she and Pierro are surprisingly soft spoken, very polite, and able to say something interesting/take an interest in whatever subject you all end up on)

u don't think you've ever been more comfortable and on such equal footing around ppl sm older than you (what are older ppl to you, but to them ur literally fucking eldritch with how ancient u are, and u can tell with how they treat u like it lmao)

hard cut back to the rest of the table:

an argument that just gets louder and louder has broken out between Childe, Dottore, La Signora, and Pantalone abt who should get free time with you first/get to do smth with you first as you get over ur adjustment period here, Childe has taken his butter knife to throw and just barely missed Dottore’s eye, and it is now embedded in the back of his fancy chair (the servants placing down dinner courses just move abt w/the most bored expressions on their faces)

(u send half the table if this group gets out of hand and u just: “Please shut the fuck up, each of ur comebacks take 30 minutes and it’s killing me” 💀 bc they're the most likely to understand u too, even Pierro/Capitano/Pulcinella chuckle a little, and u think the Tsaritsa smirked under her veil)

ur honestly too scared to see what Scarmouche, Sandrone, and Arlecchino are arguing about, because they're arguing so silently further down the table. They have murder in their eyes.

Columbina and Capitano are having a peaceful collab over weapons, armor, and clothing to offer you, Pulcinella is close enough to both participate in that convo and in you, Pierro, and the Tsaritsa’s convos too

by the 2nd week you've decided to choose chaos, and get them to play board games together sometimes (they cant all make it all the time, tbh u don't know if u can handle that either) but groups of them will play at a time

u remembered early on what a dick Dottore was, and sentenced asked if he’d like to play this new board game called “Monopoly” from ur world with Childe, Pantalone, Pierro, Arlecchino, La Signora, and Scaramouche all together :)

(so what ur trying to bring khaenri’ah part 2 down on his head as punishment?? u owe scara and collei that at least)

Columbina is more than happy to help get you Harbinger-like clothes to wear since ur so interested in the style!! (yes yesss get converted, she already has a title picked out for you)

she also giggles anytime u talk abt whether u like an outfit or not, bc u just “no thank you I’d rather wear a trash bag than that shirt, but lets try another?”

meanwhile the tailors in the background u could literally edit them to one of those videos where it just zooms in on their faces with a vine boom of shock

like Pierro, ur unranked, just above the other Harbingers really, as it wouldn't do to make you the 12th Harbinger or smth

the names they gave you being, “The Playwright” or “The Renaissance” or even “Drammaturgo”

(pls anyone who speaks Italian correct if I'm wrong ToT )

ok but the first time, unsurprisingly, one of them got snappy with you, likely Scara I would think,

Scaramouche, pissy: “And what shall we do if it appears our almighty god is perhaps a descender who is entirely human? Why I dare say you’d be transgressing on privileges that were never yours to begin with!”

Every other Harbinger, the Tsaritsa herself, the servants, the frost on the walls: 😶😦😨😶‍🌫️

You, unbothered, still eating and fully expecting this moment: “I don't want to hear it from someone who has god-mommy issues. You shouldn’t have an opinion about me, ur biased.”

yeah, so obviously, they’re emotionally all attached now whether they know it or not, and this was of course the moment they realized they're god would fit in so perfectly here

(the other nations are going to have to pry you from Snezhnaya from their cold dead hands, esp since u now have legal deniability to visit bc ur technically a Harbinger, only commanded by her majesty lol)

(Scaramouche, Arlecchino, and Sandrone were fighting about who gets the room nearest to your quarters lol)

(Capitano won, somehow??)

☆

sorry ive been slow lately guys, been just trying to work on alllll the fics these past weeks/days/however long its been??

anyway had the shift from hell last week so wish me luck with work this week if u see this 😭

hope u enjoyed this old ask/crack treated srsly post orah!! :D

Safe Travels,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

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@kiyomi-uchiha777

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part VIII

Welcome back to part 8 of Fall For Me! A strange dream, reader goes to camp, and more sweet moments with the eepy Bois this chapter! Thank you so much for reading, if you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list please let me know!

WARNINGS: Brief mention on hunting practices NOT PROOFREAD

Part VII - Part IX

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up your head felt like it was in a fog, the edges of your vision slightly blurry as you looked around the room. Your bare feet dropped to the floor, you shivered as you stood from your bed, it was a lot colder in here than you remember it being. You paused at your doorway, something wasn't right. Despite the fact you had crossed the entire expanse of your bedroom there wasn't a single creaking floorboard or footstep to be heard. You look back at your bed only to find your body still laying there. “What the hell?” You mutter softly to yourself. You walk over to your still sleeping form, your shoulders rising and falling with every even breath as you lie motionless beneath the covers.

“Don't worry, you'll be able to re enter your body when we're done here.” You jumped at the sudden voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Its tone is both a whisper and a deafening howl, the sound high pitched and somehow also impossibly low.

“God?” You ask with a confused expression.

The voice laughs, “I guess you could say that.” The silence that surrounded you was deafening as the voice faded out, it was so quiet you could hear your blood rushing in your ears, no ambient sound existed in whatever plane you had been snatched into. “Trust in Vessel, he’ll show you the way.”

You shot up in bed with a sharp gasp, your lungs burning like you had been holding your breath. Your alarm was blaring on your night stand, 8 in the morning, you had an hour until you opened. You got out of bed, listening carefully for the sound of your footsteps against the floor to make sure you really had returned from wherever the hell you had gone in your dreams. “I'm going crazy, I'm actually losing my mind.” You argue with your reflection in the mirror. “Some mysterious voice coming from my subconscious about trusting Vessel, of course I trust him. But what the hell is the way he's supposed to be showing me?” You decided to drop it for now with an annoyed groan, flying through your morning routine and jogging downstairs just as 9 o'clock rolled around. The day flew by, the steady stream of customers helping to distract you from the weird dream you had. You were just about to lock the door when the all too familiar pickup truck pulled into the lot. You smiled, pushing the door open and leaning against it as you waited to see just who had stopped by to visit tonight. You were a bit surprised to see II jump out of the cab unaccompanied, usually when he was sent to make supply runs he always had one of the others in tow. He strides over to you, reaching out to pull you into an embrace the moment you were close enough.

“I have a question for you.” He states softly once he pulls back, his hands still resting comfortably on your waist.

“And what might that be?” You smile, subconsciously leaning into him.

“Would you be comfortable coming back to camp with me?” You paused the moment the question fell from his lips. “Vessel already knows I'm inviting you, he's the one that brought it up in fact.” II chuckles, knowing exactly where your mind had wandered.

“I would love to.” He waits patiently for you to lock up, his hand slipping into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as the two of you chat idly on your way back to the truck. You slid across the worn leather bench seat, II hopping behind the wheel not long after. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, leaning in to press a clothed kiss to your cheek.

“Are you warm enough?” You nod, letting your head fall to rest against his shoulder as he starts driving. His thumb languidly trailed back and forth across your shoulder, every so often he would glance down at you to see if you were still awake. You wound down endless back roads, slowly pushing your way down paths that had long since been forgotten until the group had ventured this far out into the woods. II attempted to dodge raised roots and potholes without much success, the makeshift road being filled with craters that rattled the pair of you around in the cab. You were thankful when the dirt path finally smoothed out, the trees opening up to reveal a large clearing with four cabins evenly spaced out around the circle. You recognized minimal details of it from the pictures you had seen in the paper. The cabin opposite the entrance was surrounded by flower beds of various sizes and states of growth, some containing a painter's palette of wildflowers, others filled with various crops that seemed to be growing very successfully. “That's IV’s cabin.” II must've noticed your impressed stare. “I will warn you though, if you compliment him on his gardening it will make him really flustered, so do with that information what you will.” He chuckles.

“Do you all have different jobs?” You ask curiously, II nods his confirmation.

“IV is the main one in charge of produce. III’s a fairly decent hunter, that's where we get the majority of the meat we eat. I’m in charge of the finances.” He lists off everyone's role around the camp. “And Vessel… well he's our spiritual advisor for a lack of a better term.” He chuckles. He pulls the truck up alongside a cabin that was more set back from the rest, it's dark wood almost blending in with the treeline.  “He’s in the middle of something, I'll take you to IV.” He smiles at you. He motions for you to wait, jogging around the front of the truck to open your door for you. He bows his head slightly as he offers his hand, you can't help but laugh softly at his actions.

“What a gentleman.” You grin at him.

“For you, only the best.” He winks. Your hand slips into his, his skin cool against yours. His eyes stay locked on your form as you hop down from the truck, the moment your feet hit the ground he's tugging you into his side, wanting to keep you as close as possible. “I'd like to be able to spend some time alone with you later, if that's alright.” The corners of your mouth quirk up in a smile at the slight nervousness you picked up in his voice. You glance up at him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth before pushing yourself up to place a kiss to his cheek.

“I'd love to.” You whisper in his ear with a coy smile. Your attention was stolen by IV calling your name from across the clearing. II places a hand against the small of your back, gently nudging you in his direction. You meet him in the middle, giggling as he flings his arms around you and spins you in a hug.

“I missed you.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles, you found your cheeks growing warmth at the genuine joy in his voice.

“You did?” You ask softly.

“Yeah.” Goosebumps rise on your skin as you feel him gently knead at the softness of your waist. His eyes nervously dart from yours, tracing over a pattern he had found in the grass as he sucks in a deep breath. “I, um, I didn't get to say everything I wanted to you the other day.” You waited patiently for him to continue, seeing how nervous he was about choosing exactly the right words was honestly endearing in your eyes. “Do you think we could sit down and talk?”

“Of course we can, wherever you like.” You smile softly at him. He hesitantly removed his hand from your waist, carefully taking your hand and studying your reaction to make sure he wasn't doing too much too quickly. He led you to his cabin, shutting the door behind him and watching you with delight as you looked around curiously at all the small knick knacks and trinkets he had littered around the small space. His heart races when his eyes meet yours, he would never get tired of seeing the way your whole face lit up when you smiled.

“I want you to know that I really like you.” He blurts out, unable to stop the confession from coming out. “I might not be as experienced as the others, and I might take things slowly, but that's just because I don't want to mess this up.” His bright blue eyes scan over your features as he waits for you to respond.

“IV, I'm not worried about moving too slow or too fast, or whether or not you're experienced. I think you're very sweet, handsome, fun,” every compliment was punctuated with you taking another step closer to him. “I like you too, I want to see where things go, and I'm very excited to see how we get there.” He breathes out a relieved chuckle.

“I just don't want you to think that I'm not as interested as the others.” His arms slide around your waist, your instinctually slipping over his shoulders as he pulls you into him. His fingers ghost over your cheek, you lean into his touch, allowing him to carefully cradle your face in his hand. “You're so beautiful, every moment I've gotten to spend with you has been nothing short of amazing.” Your cheeks grow warm as he continues his assault of compliments. He seemed relieved to have gotten that off his chest, the usual playful glimmer returning to his expression.

“Well, I look forward to spending more time with you.” His gaze dropped to your lips for a moment before he hesitantly pulled away. He clears his throat, his eyes trailing to the window.

“Did you get to see the garden at all?” He asks, a slight nervous tremor in his voice.

“A little, but I'd love to see it up close. You have a very impressive green thumb IV.” He taps the toe of his boot against the cabin floor.

“It's nothing special.” He rebuttals bashfully. “But, it's definitely a lot better than what we started out with.” He starts to head towards the door, your hand slipping effortlessly into his as you trailed after him. He brought you to the edge of the flowerbeds, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to keep you close to his side as he pointed to all the various different types of produce and flowers he was growing, slipping in small fun facts every so often.

“I don't know how you can say this isn't anything special IV, this is incredible. You've really done an amazing job.” He froze, swallowing thickly as he looked down at you.

“Thank you, love.” He says softly. A soft smile finds its way to your lips as you watch his eyes slowly trace over your features. “Can I take you on a date sometime?” You can't help but giggle at the question.

“I would love that.” You feel him squeeze your waist, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he returns your smile. You both jumped slightly as someone shouted from across the field. II had III in tow, the taller man dropping off his pack of hunting supplies before quickly making his way over to you. IV leans down, placing a kiss to the top of your head before stepping away. You smiled as III approached, your heart immediately pounding in your chest at the sight of the streaks of sweat that had broken down his black body paint. You were unable to stop your gaze from raking across his exposed torso. Your cheeks grew warm as your eyes snapped back up to meet his, immediately noticing the playful glimmer in his expression. You nearly stumbled backwards as III’s long strides quickly landed him right in front of you, a strong hand landing on your waist to steady you as he caught your chin between his fingers with the other. Your eyes dart to anywhere but his, trying your best to hide your flustered state.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.” He chuckles. “How are you beautiful?” You manage to squeak out a ‘good’ in response. III leans down, the fabric of his mask soft against your skin as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Have you shown her around at all?” He asked IV, his hand still lingering on your waist as he pulled away.

“Just a bit of the garden.” IV responds.

“Think we should give her the grand tour?” II suggests.

“I don’t see why not.” IV immediately perks up at the idea. You reach out, taking hold of IV’s hand, giving him a coy smile as you cuddle up to his side.

“Well, lead the way boys.” II and III share an amused look over IV’s surprised expression. It takes him a moment before he finally relaxes, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before he brings your knuckles to his lips.

It had been less than a year since they had arrived in town and the progress they had already made at their camp was nothing short of incredible. IV had grown a whole storehouse of crops, all of which were expertly preserved in order to maintain the four of them easily throughout the winter and early spring. You learned that he was hoping to learn how to make preserves out of the vast amounts of berries in the area. III showed you some of his easier to navigate hunting trails, explaining that he only hunts as needed and how important to him it is to use the entire animal whenever possible. The four of you wandered down trails, each of them pointing out spots where they would like to go to read or play music. “We should plan a day to hike out to the lake.” IV suggests.

“Maybe next summer, it’s a little too cold for that now.” II responds. “I definitely think we should at some point though, I really think you’d like it there.” You smile as III places a kiss to the top of your head, his presence at your side immediately being replaced by II who wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you continued walking. You had noticed how the three of them almost seemed to be taking turns being next to you, the thought alone was enough to make butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“I was wondering where you all went.” Your heart immediately began to race at the sound of Vessel’s voice. You turn to find him leaning in the doorway of his cabin, “love, would it be alright if I stole you for a second?” He nods for you to follow him inside his cabin.You swallow thickly, feeling nervous despite the fact you knew you had to reason to worry. You’re snapped from your thoughts by II pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll go start dinner while you’re in there.” He gives you a gentle nudge in Vessel’s direction, prompting you forward. He towered over you from his position leaning in the doorway, offering you his hand once you were in reach and guiding you inside. The inside of his cabin was simple; a small wooden desk with a chair sat in front of the window, a perfectly made bed with black sheets sat against the opposite wall, the large piece of furniture the focal point of the room. Across the room from where you stood you noticed a bookshelf tucked into the corner, the shelves filled with journals, textbooks, and various decks of cards. You could feel Vessel studying you, he watched your body language carefully, trying to gauge exactly how you were feeling in this very moment.

You jumped as he suddenly shut the door, a soft chuckle escaping him at the sight. “There’s no need to be so tense, love.” He steps up to your side, trailing a finger along the edge of your jaw as he leans down close to your ear. “I’m not that scary, am I?” He purrs, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’m just a little on edge today, I guess.” You laugh softly.

“And why’s that?” He keeps you close to him as he moves. Settling himself on the edge of his bed, his hands coming comfortably to rest on the curve of your waist as he holds you in front of him. You feel his fingers gently push into you, moving you closer to him without much effort. The front of your thighs presses against the edge of his plush mattress, Vessel’s long legs caging you in on either side. You still had to look up slightly to be face to face with him, knowing you had met his eyes behind the slits of his mask as your heart began to pound in your chest.

“I have a feeling you already know the answer to that.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

“Smart girl,” he praises, “I see you’re putting the pieces together quickly.” He ponders over what to say for a moment, carefully selecting each word in his mind. “He spoke to you last night, didn’t he?”

“Vessel, what was that?” You answered his question with your own.

“That was Sleep.” He states simply. A bewildered expression formed on your face, Vessel continued speaking before you had a chance to ask any questions. “I for the life of me can’t figure out how to even begin telling you about Sleep.” He admits with a bashful chuckle. “I hate to keep you in the dark, but can I please ask you to wait just a little while longer?” The booming voice echoed in the back of your mind. ‘Trust in Vessel, he’ll show you the way.’ 

“I trust you.” Your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

“When the time is right I’ll tell you everything, you have my word.” He promises, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb trailing slowly across your skin. The cool material of his mask comes to rest against your forehead. He just held you for a moment, both of you relaxing into the comfortable silence that surrounded you. “I shouldn’t keep you too long, the others will throw a fit.” He says quietly, both of you dissolving into soft laughter.

“Vessel,” he hums in response to you saying his name.

“What is it, love?”

“I really enjoyed our time together the other night.” He froze, seeming almost dumbfounded by the words that had left your mouth.

“You did?” His response comes out timidly, as if he was dancing around those two simple words, worried it was the wrong thing to say. “Maybe… Maybe we could do something like that again sometime then.”

“I’d like that.” You smile softly at him.

Your fingers remained linked with his as he led you across the clearing, the other three members of the group working quickly to make sure everything was set up by the time you reached the table. You were handed a plate of something you didn’t recognize, but it tasted good. Your night became a blur of stolen kisses on your cheeks and laughter that easily bubbled up from your chest. “I believe II had something planned for the two of you tonight.” Vessel suddenly chimes in. “I think we should probably give them some privacy, boys.” He suggests with a patient smile. They each say their respective goodbye’s; IV pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, telling you he’ll see you soon before darting off to his cabin, III pulls you flush against him, lifting his mask just enough to capture your lips with his own. He mumbles a quiet ‘goodnight’ against your lips, his hand lingering on the curve of your waist as he pulls away. You turned to face Vessel, he held out his hand for you to take. “I’ll walk you.” It didn’t take you long to see that II had snuck off to set up a fire, a log pulled the perfect distance away from the flames to sit on. “It looks like you’re in for a nice evening.” You could feel his eyes studying you from behind his mask. “It’s a shame we have to part ways.”

“We still have a couple minutes.” Your eyes dart down to his lips momentarily.

“It almost sounds like you don’t want me to leave.” He responds with a lopsided grin.

“I don’t.” Vessel presses a knuckle below your chin, tilting your face up to allow him the chance to study your features closely.

“Trust me love, if I had it my way I already would have stolen you for myself.” He chuckles, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip. “We’ll have our time… I’ll make sure of it.” He whispers. He cradles your face gently in his hand, his eyes wandering over your features in silence for another moment before he speaks again. “II, make sure she gets home safely.” You hadn’t noticed until Vessel had startled him that II had wandered back in your direction. “Have a good night, beautiful.” A pair of warm lips press against your forehead, and just like before, as quickly as he was there he was gone. A sense of longing ached deep in your chest, one that was quickly pushed down as II’s hands came to rest on your waist. He gently turns you to face him, hand cupping your cheek as his lips ghost over yours. Your eyes flutter shut, your racing thoughts coming to a screeching halt as you let the kiss consume you.

“I’ve been waiting all day to do that.” II mumbles against your lips with a soft chuckle. Heavy, warm fabric is draped across your shoulders, your fingers instinctually reach up to rub along the edge of the thick denim jacket. “I wanted to make sure you were warm enough. It’s a nice night, but it still gets pretty cold out here.” You found yourself cuddled into his side, the campfire keeping you comfortable despite the chill in the air. II excitedly pointed out every constellation he recognized, filling your mind with tales of adventure, the bravest heroes, the most passionate of love stories. “Right there, that’s Andromeda. She’s famous for nearly being eaten by a sea monster because her mother tried to say she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs.” You can’t help but laugh slightly at the absurd story.

“Well, what do you think?” II gives you a curious glance. “Was she prettier than the sea nymphs?”

“She definitely wasn’t as pretty as you.” You stuttered out a shocked sound in response, your cheeks immediately growing warm. “You’re really bad at accepting compliments.” He points out bluntly, a hint of a smile in his tone.

“I’m just not really used to getting them I guess.” You admit with a bashful chuckle.

“You’re unfortunately going to have to get used to that then.” He glances down at you, his bright blue eyes meeting yours and freezing you in place. “You’re beautiful, I’m not about to let you forget that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[lilywastaken]

⇝ refuge .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART FOUR OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: After a mission goes wrong, the 141 seek shelter in Ghost's so-called "safe house".

WARNINGS: Canon typical violence, blood, wounds, stitching of wounds, mentions of abuse, first fluff in a while.

A/N: My fingers hurt I'm actually going to pass out now goodbye <3 (PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED IT HELPS A LOT!!!)

WORD COUNT: 11.2k.

MASTERLIST.

If you want to be tagged in future works, please follow and activate notifications on this account - @lilynottaken !

Also on Ao3!

Ghost’s hands were covered in blood. 

Although this was nothing out of the ordinary for a trained soldier like him, as he’d washed away many gallons of blood off of him in the time where he’d been on the field, this was different. 

It wasn’t the enemy’s blood that covered him, no. It wasn’t even his soldiers’ blood. 

It was civilian's. People that had been going about their day. Casualties in the mess that had erupted with a single missed bullet. 

It was his fault. 

If he hadn’t let himself grow distracted with the banter that erupted from his ear piece, if he had paid more attention to the target Laswell had given him, he would’ve been able to game end them right there and then like he had many before, instead, the bullet lodged right in his chest above the heart, enough time to stun the man but not enough to stop his other hand from clicking the detonator. 

The chaos that had followed was indescribable. He could still feel his ears ringing from the explosion that had occurred, the screams of the people he could have saved, the panicked shouts and roars from Price as he ordered them about. 

Ghost followed the order mindlessly, his body on some type of autopilot that had been turned on after the shock, taking out the other targets that had been lingering around until the bomb had gone off, his emotion-fueled mind taking out it’s anger on them by tearing them apart in the most gruesome ways possible. 

But he knew that covering himself in as much enemy blood as he could wouldn’t wash away the innocent’s. 

It wouldn’t wipe away the countless deaths he’d caused. 

But as he watched his final victim bleed out on the ground, ignoring their screams of pain and the insults that were being hurled at, Soap’s voice came through his earpiece. 

“Bastard’s gone. Cannae find him anywhere.”

Ghost’s blood boiled, combat boot slamming down onto the man’s head to finally shut him up, a last act of mercy and a way to express the anger rushing through his veins.

Even after they’d retreated back to the base they’d made theirs in the outskirts of Berlin during their mission there, Ghost couldn’t shake his disgusting feelings off his shoulders.

He’d never been the one to cause such a massacre like this. It was always some rookie or other, never a seasoned Lieutenant like him. 

Soap and Gaz’s conversation was just static to his ears, his mind spiralling as he thought about all the people around the city who had lost a family member today because of him. 

It wasn’t the first time in a mission where there’d been casualties. But never as many as this. And never had it affected him like this. 

The empathy he’d lacked almost all his life had suddenly made itself known in his mind, the little voice gnawing at the back of his head as it fed him scenarios linked to the mission they’d just failed, impossible if he were to think about them clearly, but right then, he couldn’t stop his heart from beating as fast as it could against his ribcage as he thought about the possibility of you or Tommy being involved in something like that, of having to carry the guilt that would no doubt haunt him all his life if that were to happen. 

He fucking hated it. 

He’d been deep in thought when they finally arrived at the base, the humvie’s doors opening as the other three stepped out, Price the only to take note of Ghost’s dishevelled state. 

“Lieutenant.”

…

“Ghost.”

…

“Simon!” Along with the bellow of his real name, the captain’s hand came down to slam onto one of the leather seats, finally pulling Ghost out of his stupor. “We’re here.”

“Copy.” He grunted, pushing himself out of the car and following his captain and the other two back to base mindlessly, almost like a zombie. 

It didn’t get better from there. Even as Laswell reassured him that it hadn’t been anyone's fault, that they hadn’t planned on the man wearing a gun vest, that even if he had succeeded in shooting him down, he wouldn’t be the only one with a detonator as found in one of the man’s lackey’s front pocket, that the explosion would have happened either way… He couldn’t help but still feel horrible. 

“Any idea where he is, then?” Price asked, looking through some of the files they’d been given on their runaway. 

“Probably went back home.” Gaz suggested, pointing out the address for a flat he had somewhere in the outskirts of Manchester.

“Called the airport, they told us a man with similar build and looks boarded a plane for Liverpool over two hours ago. He’s probably already out of the airport.”

Soap clicked his tongue, looking down at the address Gaz had mentioned before. “That’s his maw’s flat. Reckon he’d put ‘er in danger?”

“Doubt he’d care. He was happy to kill countless people for his cause, including his men and himself, what’s one more?” Ghost grunted, throwing the file down and leaning back in his chair, sharp gaze focused on the digital map Laswell had brought up, looking at the location of the terrorist’s house. 

“It’s not near any major buildings and isn’t close enough to the city to cause a commotion.” Laswell noted as she looked over the hills and lakes that surrounded the small house. “Good hiding place.”

“And if he’s not there?” Gaz asked, handing all the files back to Laswell, who gave him a solemn look. 

“We keep trying. Go get ready, I’ll call for a heli to take you all back to England. Try and get him, preferably alive, but be wary of any more guards or lackeys he might have brought with him. You’re all dismissed.”

Everyone was armed to their teeth by the time they’d made it back to English territory, night vision goggles pulled above their head as they had realised the trip took a bit longer than expected due to the cargo they had been asked to bring back to England in the process, the sky darkening even further with every second they spent on the helicopter. 

“Ghost, how copy?” Price shouted over the sound, elbowing Ghost in the side when he didn’t seem to hear him.

“What?!” Ghost shouted back, forcing out the pressure that clogged up his ears in order to hear properly. 

“How are you?! Never seen you this melancholic!” 

Ghost huffed out a laugh, tightening the straps of the seatbelts around his chest, as if they were the one putting pressure on his lungs. 

“Fine, captain!” He snapped, turning to look out of the small window row behind them. “Just ready to kill this fucking bugger!”

“Copy that!” Price slammed one of his burly hands onto Ghost’s shoulder, an act of encouragement the captain found himself giving to each of his members every time they went on a mission. 

After that, the helicopter went quiet, focusing on the mission ahead of them. 

Which in foresight, was expected to be relatively easy, a copy of many before them where they’d all come out victorious. 

But this one differed. 

The target wasn’t even that dangerous in itself, he was just some bloke who had had the brilliant idea to make an organisation that had somehow ended up planting bombs in almost every major city under the government and army’s radar. It hadn’t been up to now where they had finally learned who was behind it and where their next target was, but even then, they’d failed in protecting the civilians. 

Something they had spent almost a year investigating, fighting, taking down so many factions across the world to get to the top of the pyramid, the man behind it all. 

And fuck, if Ghost wasn’t going to make all the time he’d spent stressed and infuriated out of his mind on a wild goose chase for this fucking guy worth it. If he’d never fucking existed, the task force wouldn’t have gone through all that just to lose him, he wouldn’t have ruined the relationship he’d began with you, he would’ve had a proper go at being Tommy’s dad from the get-go. 

But a group of people that had afforded to build and plant so many bombs across so many countries, were to have enough money to hire bodyguards en par with the skill the 141 had. 

And that’s just what they had. 

Just like them, they were well-equipped with as many guns and weapons that the group’s money could buy, and while normally most men like these were just random guys picked off the street who had had guns shoved into their hands, these weren’t. They were trained, skilled enough to almost knock Soap’s gun out of his hands, and although that wasn’t what had happened, it had given them enough time for one of their bullets to graze his leg, not enough to fully bury itself into the flesh but enough to make him bleed and buckle to the ground. 

Ghost grabbed Soap by the scruff of his jacket, quickly disposing of the man that had shot him and pulling him up, letting the scot lean on him for balance. 

“Captain, Soap’s been hit!” Ghost roared into his radio, letting Soap lean on the wall while he grabbed some bandages they were always advised to bring and helped Soap in stopping the bleeding that the graze had caused. “Can you walk, Johnny?”

“Feckin’ adrenaline’s runnin’ through me, LT., could carry a horse if ye told me to.”

“Atta boy.” He handed him his gun so he could defend himself while they got out of the top floor. “Sir, the first floor’s clear. Taking the sergeant back to the car.”

“Roger. Be careful, fucker’s nowhere to be found down h- Fuck, Gaz!”

The sound of a gun going off and the roar from their captain made both men freeze in place, the dying grunts of someone coming through the radio before Gaz finally spoke, voice wheezy and hurt. 

“‘M fine, just- Fuck, that cunt stabbed me!” 

They made their way to the bottom of the stairs, where unfortunately, one of the men was waiting for them, stabbing their tactile knife right into Ghost’s shoulder thanks to the fact that he’d switched off his night vision goggles moments before, and wouldn't have seen them in the dark.

“Fuck, where do they keep comin’ from!?”

“Captain!”

“I see ya! Ghost, Soap, meet us outside, there’s not enough of us to take these fuckers out!” Price commanded, all of them responding with a “Roger!” before barreling their way out of the house, shooting a few more men in the process until they both shoved themselves into the car, Ghost immediately grabbing at the keys and pushing them in, getting everything ready while they waited for the other two, that quickly retreated into the back and slammed the doors shut, the captain slamming his fist into the back of GHost’s seat and ordering him to drive.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Gaz cried out as he held onto his wound, planting his feet on the floor as he realised who was driving, both him and soap squeezing their eyes shut as the blond slammed onto the accelerator, bringing the car out of the rocky driveway of the house and back out into one of the main roads. 

As the adrenaline started to fade from all of them, Price lazily raised a hand to grab at Soap’s shoulder, looking down at the bullet wound. “Still in one piece?”

“Yeah… Don’ think Lt. can say the same.” He pointed over to the stab wound in Ghost’s shoulder, that luckily had been right over his tactical gear, so it hadn’t caused as much damage as the perpetrator clearly intended. 

“‘M fine, Johnny. Worry about yourself.” He grunted, trying to ignore the pain that came with taking a turn with the steering wheel, every single time he moved his arm striking pain into the wound, the adrenaline from before having done a good job at keeping him from realising the amount of pain he had been currently in. 

“What about you, Gaz?” Soap called out, turning his head to look at the other as Price got his radio out, planning on informing Laswell on the second failure of the day. 

“Not dead.” He joked, tightening the bandage around the cut on his arm. “Gonna need stitches or something.”

Everyone went silent as Laswel’s voice came through the radio, broken and incomplete, but they could slightly understand what she was saying. 

Of course, the terrorists had also managed to hack into their servers while the task force was on their way and had made preparations for when they had inevitably barged into their house to arrest the man. 

The base back in London was almost a four hour drive away, and they doubted that their wounds would be in perfect condition after that long of a time, they needed to be disinfected and treated as soon as possible. 

“Any safe houses ‘round here that we might have access to?” Price called out, listening to what he assumed was Laswell looking through files.

“None that they don’t have access to.”

“Hospital?”

“Too far.”

All of them collectively sweared, Ghost’s grip tightening around the wheel as he took a right into one of the roads leading towards Manchester, the same road he took every time he came back from base to see you. 

You…

“Don’t you live in Manchester?” Gaz called out, kicking Ghost’s seat like a kid asking if they were there yet. 

“Not safe. If they have the locations of our safe houses, they have the locations of our own.” Price called out. “Unless one of you has a secret house off the grid or some James Bond mansion.”

Silence filled the car. 

Now, it had passed through Ghost’s head when they first started talking about safe houses, but it wasn’t really his house, after all. It was yours, Your space, your flat, your building. Not his. He was nothing but some sort of weird tennant. 

And his flat would have been the first place to take them to if it hadn’t been compromised, but now that he knew that that idea was out of the picture, he couldn’t help but continue thinking about your flat. With the safety kit he’d given you once after Tommy had gotten a scratch; with the pullout sofa he used every time he was over; with all the warmth and comfort he wished for every time he finished a mission. 

And he knew it wasn’t fair on you, it was extremely late compared to the times he came back in the night, you were probably fast asleep curled in your bed like you always where when he checked up on you; and it wasn’t fair to suddenly just shove three more men into your personal space, but as he took another turn and his shoulder throbbed, as he heard Gaz hiss whenever the car bumped a little, as he watched Soap try his best to stop the bleeding occurring from his wound, he knew that the worries Simon had couldn’t overcome the panic and danger Ghost was in. This was an emergency. 

“Know somewhere, sir.” Ghost spoke out, his voice hoarse, as if he’d been keeping the secret deep inside of him for longer than a minute. “Safe house, I mean.”

“You’re certain it’s safe?” Price questioned, Laswell going silent on the other side of the radio as well. 

“Positive.”

That’s how he found himself copying the exact route he always took to your place, passing the same pubs, the same shops, the same flats… Up until he parked a few blocks away from yours like he always made sure he did. 

“This it?” Gaz asked concerned as he gazed upon a closed Greggs, Ghost letting out a huff of amusement. 

“No, a bit further up.”

Since Ghost and Price were the only ones who were able to walk without limping, they took it upon themselves to be the ones to help the other two reach the building, Ghost’s hand inexplicably shaky as he stuck the key in like he’d done over a dozen times before, shoving them all into the elevator. 

“Quiet.” He hissed to them as Gaz let out a small pained cry, not wanting to wake up the ever-so irritable neighbours or cause you any alarm if you were still awake. 

He felt bad as he slotted the second key into the door, thinking about how scared you could be if you heard him coming, pushing it open with his healthy arm and letting it creek open. “Don’t open any doors. Find a place to sit. Don’t move, don’t make a sound, don’t interact with anything.” 

The three nodded at his warning, Gaz and Soap slumping onto the sofa as soon as they could and Price taking a seat at the island as Ghost slowly closed the door and turned on the light, dimming it down so it wouldn’t alert you nor Tommy. 

As Gaz and Soap whispered between themselves, wondering how the hell Ghost kept a house in such a tidy and pretty state (“Reminds me of my maw’s.” Soap had commented, making Gaz nod and laugh.), Simon pushed open Tommy’s door, listening in to the telltale sound of his son’s breaths to make sure that he was okay, turning around to find Price looking at a small stuffed animal sitting on the counter along with a dummy, his eyes wide in realisation as he turned to his lieutenant.

“Simon-” 

“Yeah.” He brushed past, tapping on the back of Soap’s head to catch his attention. “Up, I’ll deal with you first.”

“Oh, I’m honoured!” He said in a faux-british accent, lifting himself off the sofa with his help and leaning against one of the walls Simon had placed him against. 

“You’ve got a really nice gaf, didn’ expect this from ya.” Gaz commented as Ghost looked through some of the drawers around your flat, trying to remember where the hell he’d seen you put the medkit last. 

“Yeah, you're a classy one aren’t ya, Lt.? Place’s better than mine, I mean, have ya seen your sofa?” He chuckled, signalling towards the plush pillows Gaz was leaning against now, the cute crocheted blanket hanging on the back. 

Ghost ignored all of their remarks, slamming one of the drawers shut and pulling himself up, nodding towards your bedroom door. “Shut up. I’m going to check the bathroom. Not a word.”

Soap seemingly assumed that the door Ghost had gestured towards was the direct entrance into the bathroom, so in order to help his lieutenant out a bit, his hand moved towards the doorknob while Ghost started pulling off his combat boots, not wanting to make a sound when he went into your room. 

But, apparently, the small sounds they’d been making should have been his main priority, by the way you were almost waiting at your bedroom door with a gun raised to Soap’s forehead, ready to shoot just like he’d taught you in a situation like this one. 

“Steamin’ fuckin’-”

Ghost couldn’t rid himself of his boots fast enough before Soap’s hand was instinctively around your neck, the adrenaline that was rushing through both of your veins making it easier for him to ignore the pain shooting through his leg to defend himself and for yourself to scratch and pull at the hand around your throat. 

“Soap!” Price shouted as he pushed himself off his seat, noting the panic that had filled Ghost’s normally stoic eyes at the mere sight of you in pain, slowly putting two and two together. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” Ghost roared, abandoning his shoes as soon as he saw your eyes roll back into your skull, a telltale sign that you were about to pass out due to the scot’s strong grip on your neck, while normally it would’ve taken way longer for someone to pass out. 

The sight of your legs going limp in Soap's grasp was enough for Ghost to see red, moving like he did on the battlefield to reach Soap, grabbing him by the neck and throwing him onto the ground like a ragdoll, secretly hoping the grip he’d grabbed him with was strong enough to cause him the same pain you were undoubtedly in, arms immediately rushing towards your flailing body and pulling you into his chest, one of his gloved hands holding the back of your head as the other pulled your shaking legs up. 

He didn’t really care that he might’ve seriously hurt Soap, gaze and attention fixed on the tears running down your cheeks and the paleness to your normally warm skin, the wheezing breath leaving you as your body tried its best to regain the breath Soap had just stolen from you, your hands clinging to his tact gear instinctively as you coughed with every attempt to breathe.

Once he made sure you were definitely still awake and breathing, he brought you closer to him, the hold on you similar to some desperate attempt at the bridal style, almost like a mutt protecting its territory.

“What the fuck, were you thinking, Saergant!?” He shouted, glaring down at the man, who was rubbing at his neck looking up at you both in confusion. 

“Well, I’m sorry for protectin’ myself against someone who was armed, Lt.!” He shouted back, being helped back up by his captain, who seemed torn between who was in the right and who was in the wrong. 

“Did you even stop to think-”

“Oh, because you feckin’ warned me about the armed woman who’d be waitin’ for us!” Soap interrupted, coughing out.

Ghost clenched his jaw, turning to make eye contact with Price, who just shook his head at him, imploring him to just let go. 

“We’re all stressed. It slipped Ghost’s mind to tell us about her and you shouldn’t've had reacted like that. You’re both in the wrong.” 

Neither of them spoke, knowing that the Captain, as always, was right. 

“Go take care of her.” 

He didn’t have to tell Ghost twice. He and Soap shared one final glance, one that only they knew what meant, full of words neither of them would dare to share out loud, but they understood. 

The gun luckily hadn’t gone off during the whole kerfuffle, letting Ghost lean down and pick it up carefully, clicking on the safety before sliding it into one the spare holsters, not trusting himself enough to carry a loaded gun while you were still in his arms. 

He pushed the door open, your coughs continuing as your eyes started fluttering open, trying to drive away the flurry of tears that were still streaming down your cheeks and wetting your clothes, a broken croak of his name leaving you. 

“It’s me, don’t worry. Just me, love. Just me.” He reassured you the whole way back to the bed, propping you up onto the soft mattress and letting you fall back, kneeling onto the carpeted floor and letting his head rest against the sweet-smelling covers, lifting his head as one of your hands pawed at his mask. 

He tried ignoring you for a few moments as he took the gun back out and expelled the mag, squeezing his eyes shut as another one of your sobs reached his ears, shoving the gun and mag back into the drawer it had been in before finally turning to look at you properly.

“Simon…” You managed to get out, cringing at the sound of your voice, still slightly delirious from the lack of air in your brain. “What… It- It hurts…”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He whispered, grabbing at your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Just breathe f’me. It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”

He didn’t even know what he was saying at this point, just reacting to every single thing he usually told himself when he was in the midst of a panic attack ever since he was young.

“Who…”

Your eyes darted over to the door, where both of you could still hear the other talk, flinching as one of them spoke a bit too loud. 

“They’re with me. Soap, he was the one to… I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you before coming, we were in the middle of a mission and-”

“Oh my god, Simon!” You cried out, startling the both of you. You propped yourself up, shaking a bit due to the dizziness but grabbing onto his non-wounded shoulder all the same. “You’re bleeding!”

In the midst of everything that had just happened, he seemed to have forgotten the stab wound, his free hand coming up to touch at the now drying blood with a hiss. 

“It’s fine. Listen, you-”

“No! It’s not fine, oh my god!” You felt a bit queasy as you noticed the blood that also stained his hands and tact vest, hoping to god that it was his even though deep down you knew that it wasn’t. “What- How are you so okay with this!?”

He grabbed both of your hands before they reached to grab at his wounded shoulder, staring deep into your foggy eyes. “Don’t worry about me.”

Don’t worry about him? 

He was fucking freebleeding in the middle of your bedroom like it was a goddamn hobby! How could you not worry about him!?

“I’m fine. How’s your throat?” He let go of one of your hands to bring it up to your neck, fingers softly grazing against a few darkening spots adorning your skin, reminders of what had happened before. 

“It… It still hurts to speak. Kind of.” You closed your eyes as the tough material of his gloves brushed against you so gently, surprised that such items that had been used to rip countless people apart were capable of a touch so sweet, so soft, so caring…

You swallowed, the movement of your throat beneath his hand quickly alerting himself of what he was currently touching, holding, and making him let go, going back to search for your other abandoned hand, making it easier for him by raising it and meeting his halfway.

“I’m sorry. For not telling you we were coming.” The apology seemed to slip from his lips oh so easily, compared to when you’d first let him in to explain himself, when he’d clearly physically struggled to speak those two damned words…

“‘We’?” You repeated, feeling his hands tighten around yours. 

“Soap’s not the only one. Price and Gaz are also here.” He explained, his eyes motioning towards the door. “We were compromised, in a way. Needed somewhere to go, and I just…”

You looked away, already knowing the ending of the short recap of the night, looking down at your linked hands, gaze darting back up to the blood staining his arm. 

“It’s… Fine.”

It really wasn't. You knew you had every right to be angry with him and the three other men he’d brought along, this was your flat! Your home, your building, your living room they had no doubt made their own in the small time you’d been in the bedroom with Simon, and without even thinking about the bruises forming at the base of your neck you already had enough reasons to let your anger boil over. 

But you stayed silent as he waited for you to snap, to scream at him, to add even more salt in the wound that had formed both mentally and physically tonight; silent as he took your hands and helped you climb out of bed and cling onto him for balance as you regained the feeling in your legs (that were being invaded by the stabbing feeling of pins and needles); silent as he pushed the door open and walked out with you concealed behind him like some tactical weapon. 

You were pleasantly surprised to see that unlike your fears the men had seemingly not touched a single thing in your living room, standing next to the kitchen island despite one of them clearly having problems with standing. 

He made eye contact with you, your blood running cold as you realised that he had been the one to cause the soreness that now racked your throat, immediately moving to tear your gaze away from him but stopped as he did it first, looking down at his shoes as if ashamed, and by the way he stayed silent while the other introduced themselves, he was. 

The captain was nice enough, he clasped your hand in a firm handshake, one that you assumed he’d been practising for longer than you were alive, and he had a very kind face despite the work you knew the four men did, but you couldn’t help but feel at ease in his presence, an effect you assumed he had on everyone by the way they seemed so lax instead of freaking out over the wounds littering their bodies like you would. 

Gaz gave you a smile and a nod, not even attempting to outstretch either of his hands to you due to the tear up his arm and the other hand pressing a bloody piece of cloth to the wound in hopes of keeping himself from losing too much blood. 

“Soap.” Ghost’s voice came out low and gruff, a tone of voice you’d never heard from him, and you thanked whatever god was up there that you’d never heard it directed to you, because clearly you weren’t as strong as the Sergeant in front of you and would’ve immediately crumbled into fear.

“I’m sorry.” He immediately spoke out, his accent thick around each word as he outstretched his arm, poised out for a handshake. “I hope I didn’ hurt you t’much.”

Although the burn from his hand was still there, a constant reminder for the rest of the night of what had happened, and though it would take a bit of while for you to let go of it, you still raised your hand up to his, clasping it in a much weaker handshake than his Captain’s, but it was firm nonetheless, confirming your “acceptance” to his apology for now. 

“I would have done the same if I had your strength, don’t worry.” You tried lightening up the mood, despite the anxiety that still tugged at your mind, letting go of his hand and going back to standing next to Simon, your arm pressed right against his, hoping that his massive frame would do something to help hide you. 

A warm hand came up to your waist, the hairs on your body standing on end as Ghost’s breath hit the shell of your ear. “Go check on Tommy.”

Tommy.

Your stomach dropped at the realisation that you hadn’t even thought about your poor son in the whole time you were awake, too focused on yourself to even think about what fear he could be going through after hearing more than the two voices he was used to in the small apartment, your breath hitching as the hand slowly pushed you towards the nursery door, like you were a dog in need of direction.

“Tommy?” Gaz breathed out as Ghost led him to the kitchen sink, letting the man run his arm under the stream of cold water, washing away any of the crusty blood that stuck to the skin, while Ghost continued his search for the medkit.

The man stayed quiet, not even bothering to even think of beginning to explain Tommy, and by association you and whatever relationship you had, already having had struggled enough when deciding to open up to Price about it, not needing to do it two more times. 

“His son.” Price answered for him when he saw that Ghost was making no move to answer, the skull-faced man turning to send a quick glare in his captain’s direction before being shot down with one of the same calibre. “Don’t ask more, though. Bugger still likes keeping his secrets.”

Both Soap and Gaz turned to Ghost with matching expressions, dumbfounded by the information they had just been fed, unbelieving that the man they knew as Ghost, the Ghost that they had watched kill people with a single hand, the Ghost that seemingly felt no emotions towards any of them or anyone, the Ghost they’d worked so hard to even get a sliver of information out of him was indeed a father. An actual father, with a real son who had a mother who lived in a nice and cute-looking flat taking care of said son. 

After the confrontation between you and Soap, they had quickly assumed that Ghost harboured some type of feelings towards you, whether they were romantic or platonic was still yet to be known (though by the way he had held you so protectively against his chest, they assumed that they already knew the answer to that small conundrum), but they would’ve never guessed that you were the fucking mother of his son, a son he’d kept pretty well hidden from everyone, except Price, like many of the details of his oh-so mysterious life.

“That’s… Nice.” Gaz croaked out, throat having gone dry by the absolute shock that had filled the two Sergeants, gulping as Ghost stood back up to his full height, suddenly intimidated by the man more than usual. 

“Yeah. Stay.” Once again, not even bothering to say it in a nicer way, commanding all of them like dogs before entering the room you’d just retreated to and slamming the door closed. 

He immediately regretted it, though, by the way you snapped your head around like the girl from the ring furiously, clutching a fussing Tommy to your chest, reminiscent of the first night he’d spent in your flat.

“Sorry.” He didn’t wait for you to respond, taking a few long strides until he was at your side, gazing down at your sweet boy, who was moving around in your arms like he was actively trying to escape you. “How’s he?”

“Fussy. I mean, he’s been sleeping all day, no surprises there. Probably wants to watch some telly.”

“Can’t really do that lying down now, can he?” A gloved finger came down to tickle his tummy, causing him to move around more as he burst into a fit of giggles, seemingly not caring about his father's sudden change of appearance, hopefully assimilating in his tiny brain that all skull patterns equaled dad. 

At his response, you sucked air through your teeth, causing him to snap his head towards you in fear he’d said something wrong, taking a step back as he watched you place your hands underneath Tommy’s armpits and slowly take him to the ground, his little duck printed socks touching the floor and causing Ghost’s eyes to widen, mind racing with thoughts that your son might actually be some type of prodigy if he was standing up at this age, but let out a humoured breath as his little bum hit the floor, and instead of falling back like he always did, he instead stayed there sitting, moving his arms around in order to shake your grip off. 

“He’s sitting.”

“You don’t sound very impressed.” You said, looking up at him with a bright smile, not being able to help the immense pride you felt as your son ticked off another milestone off the list, sitting down on the carpet behind him and handing him one of the toys littered on the ground, wanting to enjoy this little moment of peace within the confusing and terrifying night you’d had, trying your best to focus simply on Tommy and not with what would come with having four military trained men in your flat. 

“No, it’s… Yeah.” You rolled his eyes at the inexpressive tone his voice took, watching him take a seat in front of you and raise his uninjured arm up to click his fingers in front of Tommy’s chubby face, like you normally did when wanting to catch his attention. “Good job, duck.”

You couldn’t help the way your smile widened as you heard him use the little nickname you’d given him, placing your hands on his chubby tummy and tickling his sides, enticing another few happy giggles. 

But through them, you heard the sharp hiss that came from Simon as he moved to put his weight onto the other arm, eyes going wide as you realised you’d completely neglected the wound you’d fussed about so much earlier, one of your hands moving to grasp his hands. 

“Why haven’t you treated it yet?” You whispered, keeping your distress to a minimum in front of Tommy, but Ghost could still feel the worry that emanated from you, shrugging (as best he could) and looking away. 

“I couldn’t find the medkit.” You raised a brow at his apprehensive words, lifting yourself off the floor along with Tommy and adjusting your hold on him. 

“It’s where it always is.” You started moving, giving him little to no time to react before he had jolted up and started following, almost crashing into you as you stopped in your tracks once you’d opened the door, seemingly forgetting about the company you’d been thinking about mere moments before. “Oh.”

“Is that him?” Soap said with a smile before anyone spoke, gesturing towards the small boy fidgeting in your arms. 

“No. Just some other random kid, Johnny.” Ghost’s hands once again found their rightful place on your hips and pushed you slightly to urge you to continue your walk, a huff leaving your lips at his impatience (although you couldn’t really blame him, you too would be impatient if there were a literal hole in your shoulder), as you made your way back in to the bedroom, feeling Ghost move around behind you as if he were shielding you from the prying eyes of his Sergeants and Captain, who simply wanted to catch a glimpse of the small boy. 

“Here.” You called out as you handed Tommy over to his father, opening up the mirror in the bathroom and pulling out the small yet quite big medkit he’d gifted you. 

Ghost tried his best to ignore the small bottles of pills he spied along the shelves of the little cupboard as you opened up the medkit, looking through all the items. 

“I… I don’t know how to use most of these.” You mumbled, taking it over to him so he could look through it. 

“Don’t worry, we do.” Tommy was handed back off to you, no doubt giving the small boy whiplash from how fast he was being moved from one parent to another like a hot potato. “Might need some help with the stitches.”

Stitches. 

You willed away the look of discomfort that would no doubt try to show on your face at the mere thought of it. 

Now, you weren’t the most horrible person at stitching clothes, you’d fixed a few items for both Tommy and you, and maybe the odd time you’d found a hole in Simon’s hoodie and couldn’t just leave it like that, but the thought of using a needle and string to stitch up a wound instead of the normal cloth made shivers rack your body. 

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” You breathed out, instead of letting out the worries that swirled about your brain. I mean, these men were dealing with blood and gore almost daily, surely you could manage to deal with a little wound, right?

“Hey. We’ve been treated by worse. Won’t be any worse than doin’ it ourselves.” He murmured, opening the door for you. 

And that filled you with some reassurance at first, but as you disinfected your hands and were given the needle and string, you couldn’t help but feel sick, turning your head over to the little playpen you’d purchased a few days ago where Soap was sitting next to looking down at Tommy play. Ghost right at his side glaring down at them, as if Tommy’s personal bodyguard. 

“You don’t have to, really. I can try and do it myself.” Gaz assured you with a smile, starting to move his arm away from you. 

“With one hand?”

“You’d be surprised what I can do with one hand, ma’am.” He grinned, getting a furious look from Ghost. 

You breathed out a laugh, shakily taking his arm into yours and bringing it back to where he had it before, angling the needle to his wound before taking one last look of reassurance up at the man, who only nodded in response. 

It wasn’t as disgusting as you had expected, but the sounds and feelings were still uncomfortable.

You finally finished the final stitch, shakily tying the knot before cutting the thread, disposing yourself of the latex gloves you’d put on. 

“Is- Is that okay?” 

“It’s perfect, love, don’t you worry. Did it better than I ever could.” Gaz encouraged, getting some bandages and helping you to wrap it around his now sanitised wound. “Could easily get a job as a nurse if you ever wanted to, eh? Think Ghost would love to have you on base.”

“That’s enough, Sergeant.” Ghost snapped, pushing himself off the wall and nodding down at Johnny. “Get a move on.”

You shared a smile with Gaz before Soap took his spot, albeit a bit more awkward, and raised his leg up to the sofa (you almost had a heart attack before you realised he’d kindly discarded his shoes before doing so). 

“Oh, do I-.” 

“No need f’stitches. I just need a bit o’help disinfecting it.” He mumbled, always the careful one when it came to cleaning. 

“Yeah, okay.” You did just as he had told you to, carefully pouring the alcohol onto the gauze before wiping away any dirt and dry blood from the graze before sticking a clean one over the wound with the help of a few bandages. 

You couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of your handiwork as you watched him get up, his limp a bit better now that he definitely knew that he hadn’t contracted any types of diseases thanks to the wound, taking back his spot back next to Gaz and Tommy, the other sergeant moving a little toy around in hopes of attracting Tommy’s attention. 

“I’ll help with this one, Lieu-” 

“No need.” Ghost interrupted the captain, sitting down on the sofa and immediately sinking it, the piece of furniture still not used to his weight even after all the time he’d been using it. “I’ll help her.”

You nodded with a smile, although it quickly flipped upside down as you realised what dealing with Ghost’s wound entailed, watching him slowly take off most of his tactical gear before leaving him in one of those damn tight shirts, moving the sleeve off the wounded shoulder and letting you see what you were dealing with in full detail. 

“Clean and stitch it up. Not that hard, lovie.” He mumbled, his words just for your ears, one warm hand landing on one of the thighs you had curled beneath you on the sofa you were kneeling on. “Just going to be a bit more difficult to heal.” 

“Okay.” You swallowed, tugging on another pair of gloves before balancing yourself with one hand on the part of his uninjured shoulder, somehow still feeling the body warmth through the latex. 

This was different from Gaz’s wound. While the other man had been looking away the whole time, you could feel Ghost’s sharp gaze on you even as you thread the needle, your body squirming beneath the uncomfortable stare. 

“C’mon.” He urged, settling himself further into the sofa to make the next part easier for you, letting yourself take a deep breath before starting without a second though, pleasantly surprised as he didn’t even move an inch with every stitch you made, although you could feel his thumb rubbing over the warm skin of your thigh with every second, your hand giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze every time you tightened a stitch, despite knowing he probably didn’t need the same reassurance you did. “It’s okay.”

It almost felt like you were the one getting stitched up, not him. 

You finished with shaky hands, dropping the gloves and needles and patching it up, jolting away when his hand grabbed at the bandages, finishing the job himself. 

“Thank you.” He mumbled, the hairs on your body standing up as you realised finally how close you’d been to him the whole time, slowly letting go of his arm and letting them fall back onto your lap. 

“It’s fine.” You watched him get up, once again not showing a single ounce of pain or discomfort despite the pain you knew a person who wasn’t desensitised to this type of wounds would be in, your eyes following him across the room until he reached the two Sergeants, who were still trying to gain Tommy’s affection.

When you saw them like that, they hardly looked like the type of men whose job consisted on fighting and killing for a living, they just looked like two blokes you’d find at the pub on a random sunday night, despite the tactical gear they still wore, having fun with watching a kid roll around with his toys. 

“Thank you.” Price rumbled from behind you, a hand landing on the headrest of the sofa. “For letting us stay. Feels like no one’s said that yet.”

You shrugged, running your hands up and down your thighs in order to cure the chill that had just run through your body. “It’s okay. I mean… Simon’s done a lot for us, guess I could just repay the favour one way or another.”

Although maybe you would’ve thought of a more traditional way of doing that, one that wasn’t stitching up his men and him in the middle of the night. 

“Hmph. Well, considering what good a job you’ve done, I’d say you’ve paid it back pretty well.”

You smiled up at him, not catching the look Ghost sent to you from the other side of the room, looking down at the small boy he was cradling and then up at the time, not having missed the eyebags that adorned your normally bright eyes. 

He called your name as he came near, his heart missing a beat as you instantly outstretched your arms out at him, stomach sinking as he quickly realised you were gesturing towards Tommy and not him, carefully bringing him down to latch onto your chest. 

“Think we’ll be leavin’ now.” He said, catching both your and Price’s attention. 

“Leaving?”

“Where else are you going to stay?” You prodded for an answer, pressing Tommy further into the jumper you’d pulled on. 

“We’ll find somewhere.” He looked up at Price for reassurance, but got a not so on board look back. 

You looked between the two, who stayed silent enough for you to make a quick inventory check in your head, looking down at the pull out sofa you were currently sitting on and thinking back to the possible inflatable mattress you had stored in your room. 

“Simon.” You said, almost like a child tugging on their parent’s sleeve to ask for something. “You can just stay for the night. I’ve got a few blankets and a small mattress along with the sofa. I don’t mind.”

You always felt like you could drown in his eyes when he looked at you like that, glassy eyes filled with concern and apprehensiveness at your words, as if he was assessing the true nature behind them only to find that you were only speaking the truth.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

And maybe, in the heat of the moment, you’d under planned a bit, since you realised mid unfolding some blankets that both the sofa and the small mattress would not fit four people, even if one decided to sleep on the floor, they’d be far from comfortable curling into some random nook or cranny of the flat. 

You fluffed up some of the pillows, listening to some parts of the conversation Gaz and Soap were having from inside the bathroom, jumping out of your skin as one of Ghost’s hands appeared on your back. 

“I'm going to let Soap and Gaz take the sofa. Price’s alright with taking the mattress.” He explained, hand continuing to rest on the small of your back even as you leaned back up, working on shoving a cushion into its cover. 

“And you?” You asked, almost dreading the answer. 

He looked away, a faraway gaze on the visible part of his face as if he wasn’t really there with you, as if you were just talking to a shell of a man who someone else was controlling. 

“I don’t need to sleep. I’m fine with staying in Tom’s room.” He responded, taking the pillow from your hands and placing it down on the inflatable mattress that lay next to the sofa. 

“What? You’re hurt, Simon, you should be resting!”

Silence. 

“You’re not fucking superhuman, you know that, right?!” You snapped, grabbing at his sleeve and forcing him to look your way. “You need rest like anyone else. Just because you cover your face and act like you don’t care about anything does not mean you’re special.”

God, shut up! Your brain was shouting at you, unbelieving that you were getting so worked up over a man you’d convinced yourself that you wouldn’t let in no matter what, but there you were, horrified that he had such little care for his well-being that he would rather stay awake all night than find somewhere else to sleep. 

“Just take my bed!”

The words were out of your mouth before you even realised it. 

And clearly, you weren’t the only one who was surprised by them. 

Simon was staring down at you with what you could only assume was a dumbfounded look, his eyes swirling with confusion. 

“Your bed?”

“My bed.” You breathed out, horrified with yourself. “It's queen sized, you know that. You’ll fit.”

Silence engulfed the room, a pattern that seemed to follow every single one of your conversations you had in this exact spot of the living room, gazes interlocked together. 

“No-”

“Yes. Get into your pyjamas and come to bed.” You said almost robotically, finishing the final cushion before pushing yourself off, quickly walking back into your room before the man could protest. You placed a hand against the wall in order to balance yourself as soon as you were out of his line of view, a shaky hand coming up to cover your mouth in shock of what you’d just asked, no, insisted him to do.

Soap and Gaz apologised for taking so long in the bathroom, letting you take their place so you could calm down a bit alone and in silence, sitting on the closed toilet with a shaking leg, biting your nails as you stared down at the white tiles. 

You were so fucking stupid. 

What was wrong with you!?

Why couldn’t you just stick to your initial feelings for him!?

Why couldn’t you just have let him do what he wanted!?

Why did you care so much about someone you’d insisted was nothing to you!?

You rested your face against the open palms of your hands, running them up and down until you rid yourself of the urge to want to cry, the opening of your bedroom door immediately catching your attention. 

Ghost knocked at the door, making you jump for what seemed like the nth time tonight, calling out your name. 

“I need to get changed.”

Your heart soared at the implication behind his hushed words. 

Now, you don’t really know what you were expecting for his pyjamas to be, but the black shirt and cargo sweatpants he sported were definitely on brand for a man like Simon.

It’d been a really long time since you’d caught a peak at his arms, since even in the warmest weather possible, Simon always insisted on wearing at least a long sleeved shirt, leaving the rest of his body up to the imagination (which, thanks to that night, you didn’t really need), but thanks to the shirt he was currently wearing, it allowed you to gaze upon his muscular arms and the tattoo that ran the whole way up one of them, remembering faintly the moment he’d let you look at them for a moment before tugging you closer into his chest. 

It also didn’t surprise you that he was still wearing the balaclava, although this one was different to the skulled one he normally wore, silver lines running over his chin, like the bottom set of teeth of the plastic skull he’d now discarded, leaving him almost naked in a way, after having gotten so used to him all covered up. 

“Are you sure?” He asked one final time, standing at the edge of the bed. 

“Yes, Simon.”

His gaze darted away from you as you called out his name, something you’d noticed he’d done the whole night every time you spoke his real name out, despite him never reacting this way when you were both alone. 

“Lie down.” He did as you said, getting into the bed and pulling some of the covers up to cover his lap, turning to watch you as you leaned over to turn off the small lamp on your nightstand, the room instantly being filled with darkness after the click. 

“You know…” Your voice came out hushed, further down than before, letting him assume that you’d just rested your face against your pillow. “Your skull mask looks silly.”

“Silly?” He whispered back, mock offended, like you’d just killed his entire family in front of him (which would be largely upsetting considering you were his family…).

“Silly.” You parroted, thinking back to the hard plastic skull. “You look like a little kid on halloween.” 

“That was the goal.” He lazily joked, moving down so he too was lying on his own pillow, staring up at the darkness that used to be the ceiling, his hair scratchy against his nape and skull due to it being pressed against the material of his balaclava. “...my brother wore a mask like that. Used to scare the shit out of me.”

You let out a huff, impossible of even imagining a little version of your Simon being scared by his brother. “Isn’t he younger than you?”

“...”

“Oh my god, Simon.”

“I was easily frightened.” He said, knowing that if there were any source of light near you, you’d instantly be able to see the blush that no doubt was dusting his pale cheeks. “I was frail as a kid.”

Why was he telling you this?

“Frail?” You mumbled, moving yourself closer to him in order to hear him clearer. 

“My dad wasn’t the nicest person.” 

He should stop. 

“You mean… He hurt you?”

“In more ways than one.”

You shouldn’t know this about him. 

“That’s… Horrible. I’m sorry, Simon…”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. 

“It’s not… You don’t have to act like it is.”

“...”

“Simon.”

Your sweet voice called out to him, your hand brushing against his arm and causing a ripple effect on it, all of his hairs standing on edge at the soft touch. 

“Simon…”

“I’m sorry.” He breathed out, turning around, forcing your hand away from him in doing so, leaving you staring at his back in the dark. 

Silence engulfed the room once again, your hand frozen in place from where it had been pressed against before, clenching it closed and bringing it back, turning around yourself and snuggling into the nice-smelling covers.

You didn’t even bother trying to continue the conversation or bid him a goodnight like you wish you could, instead keeping the silence going until the inevitable grasp of Hypnos would pull you under. 

But you couldn’t seem to fall asleep, even after only having slept two hours that day, even as no sound came through the baby monitor on your bedside table, even if everything was perfectly scripted for you to close your eyes and finally get some rest…

You turned around, feeling around the cold space of the bed that laid between Simon and your sleeping bodies, squeezing your eyes closed before taking a shaking breath. 

It was cold. That was it. It was cold, and you felt bad for him.

There was no other reason for why you wrapped your arms around his chest from behind, curling into the shape of his body and pressing your face right against his warm back, feeling him tense beneath your hands. 

You stayed there, waiting for the unavoidable moment where he’d try and shake you off like you were some kind of leech, but he didn’t. 

Instead, one of his hands came up to rest over the one you had above his heart, squeezing it slightly, his way of telling you that this was okay without openly speaking out. 

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and pulling yourself closer into his warmth, feeling his heart beat slowly grow steady beneath your palm as time went past. 

Simon hoped that the tear streaks down his balaclava wouldn’t be noticeable in the morning. 

This time, when you woke up, he wasn’t gone. 

Although a bit dishevelled compared to the normal composure he kept, he was there. 

The mask had ridden up to his cupid’s bow in the middle of the night, exposing the not very well-kept beard he’d started growing under there, along with tufts of blond hair that peaked out from around his nape.  

It was clear you’d both moved a lot across the course of the night, by the way you’d both ended in a completely different position than the one you'd started in, with you on the other side of the bed wrapped up in his arms, your face pressed into his chest instead of his back.

His warm hands were covering your lower back, brushing lightly against the elastic band of your pyjama bottoms, one leg draped over his waist while the other was between his.

You tentatively raised your hand to run your fingers against the hair at the base of his head, curling a slightly long strand around one of your fingers and letting out an amused huff at the curl that formed there. 

“Ow.” Simon rasped, although his voice was as monotonous as could be, pulling his head away from your hand. “Ticklish.”

“You’re ticklish?” You mumbled, watching him open his eyes before craning his head away from you, a pop coming from the bone as he stretched, moving onto his back and pulling you with him, letting you curl into his side. 

Not one word was spoken during the entire morning about what was going on, about your sudden change of heart (although you knew it wasn’t sudden), about what this night would mean for the two of you moving forward. 

Neither of you said a word, afraid that the conversation that would follow would be the one to ruin whatever had happened, 

You wandered out of your bedroom an hour after you’d officially woken up, wanting to indulge in the warmth Simon had provided all throughout the night, surprised and a bit shocked (you’d honestly forgotten what was waiting for you outside), Tommy fidgeting around in Soap’s arms as he held him with surprising care and ability. 

“Are you some type of expert?” You said with a careful smile, not missing the way his eyes darted down to the bruises around your neck, still feeling bad for what he had done. 

“Uh, kinda’? Got four sisters, each of ‘em with their own set of bairns.” He shrugged, the movement making Tommy let out a giggle through his dummy. “Lad was cryin’, couldn’t just leave him there.”

“It’s okay. Thank you.” You felt a bit embarrassed for not having woken up at your baby’s crying, but you were glad that he seemed perfectly happy, clearly enjoying the attention he’d been receiving the past hours. “He’s starting to teeth, that’s probably why he was crying, my poor-”

The slamming down of a mug interrupted you, staring dumbfounded at Gaz, who’d been the one to cause the noise. 

“Fuck! Sorry, sorry, ma’am, just-” He wiped away some of the spilt tea (you were even more confused as to where he’d gotten the cuppa until you noticed the captain standing next to the stove with your kettle), looking up at you with darkening cheeks. “Sorry, my arm’s still a bit fucked-”

“Clean it up.” Ghost ordered gruffly as he walked out of the bedroom, clad in most of the clothing he’d worn yesterday, hiding once again all the skin and muscles you’d ran your hands over that morning. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not a prick, man.” Gaz grumbled. 

Ghost leaned down to you, your heart skipping a beat at the sudden closeness, in front of his teammates no less, but ended up pressing a finger to Tommy's nose, your cheeks going warm out of embarrassment. 

“You made tea?” He grunted at his Captain, who shrugged, taking a sip of the warm brew. 

“I’ll pay it back.”

“Y-”

“It’s not necessary, it’s just tea.” You elbowed Ghost before he could say anything rude, placing Tommy down onto his highchair before moving to get some of his food and get yourself a cup in the meantime. 

“Can’t thank her enough.” Price grumbled to Ghost as you and the other two started a conversation, watching the masked man pour himself a cup before swigging it all down quickly like it was some type of liquor. “For letting us stay.”

“Yeah. I’m going to have to make it up for her.” Ghost answered, watching you try to coerce Tommy to open his mouth for a spoonful of baby food with Soap’s help. 

“Seems like you already did, she looks real happy.” Price nudged Ghost, like a father teasing his son for getting his first girlfriend, his moustache twitching as Ghost turned away from him, further pushing the thought that it was just like that type of scenario. 

“We should get going. I can’t risk it further.” Ghost responded instead of continuing the banter, pushing himself off the counter and turning to you, Price immediately dropping the funny act and nodding, moving to get some of their things they’d tried to place neatly in one of the corners. 

“We’re going.” He announced, heart sinking into his stomach at the disappointment that washed over your face, placing down the baby food on the table and leaning back up to your full height. 

“Now?”

“Yes. Soap, go start the car.” Ghost ordered, the scot doing just as his captain had and dropping the smile that had been previously adorning his face, getting up and taking his jacket from Price, not forgetting to say a proper goodbye to you and give you a firm handshake that he hoped transmitted the apology for everything he did, and as you received it with a small smile, he hoped it meant that you forgave him. 

“Where are you going?” You asked, watching Gaz and Price reload some of the guns from the other side of the flat. 

“Base. Hopefully, Laswell will have backup and we’ll be able to finish what we started.” He said, gloved fingers running over Tommy's soft head, messing up some of the curls that had started to form. “I’ll call you once we’ve finished.”

The look you gave him spoke a million words. 

“I promise. I’ll be back, you know that.”

You felt embarrassed at how quickly he’d managed to discern what your look had meant, but nodded nonetheless, saying goodbye to the other two (Gaz giving you a bright smile and Price clasping your hand in his once again, his presence washing away any worry you might have just like last time), leaving the three of you alone in your apartment. 

“Duck, daddy’s going now.” You whispered to your son, the small boy clearly having no idea of what you were saying, but giggling up at you as you pressed a kiss to his chubby cheek. “Say bye-bye, now.”

You moved his little hand in a goodbye motion, Ghost’s mask moving over his lips as he smiled, raising one of his hands to wave goodbye back. 

Despite having done this same song and dance for almost four months now, it still didn’t get rid of the bittersweet feeling that bloomed in Simon’s chest, already knowing the drill as you led him to the front door with a solemn look tugging at your pretty features. 

“We’ll talk once I get back, okay? I promise.” He spoke softly as he stood by the opened door, a gloved hand coming up to cup at your face and tilt you upwards so you were both making eye contact. “‘Bout everything.”

“Okay.” You whispered, fighting the urge to lean further into his touch. “I’ll be here.”

He nodded, but his hand still didn’t move. 

You waited, for what, you didn’t know. You were slowly getting lost in his eyes when his other hand came up to pull his mask up over his lips, leaning down and softly tugging you upwards until they met your forehead, the kiss short and sweet despite all the pain and darkness that you knew followed him, always a surprise when it came to how quickly he could change from the personality he showed to you and Tommy to the personality you’d witnessed him show to his teammates not long ago. 

You blinked up at him owlishly, watching him pull the mask back down and let go of your face (though his touch still lingered) before taking a step back. 

“Stay safe.” You repeated like all the other times. 

“I always do.” He replied, and like always, he disappeared down the hall. 

“No.”

“Oh, come on. He’ll like it!” 

“He won’t.” Ghost snapped, taking one last look at the small toy Gaz was waving around, like Ghost was a child to be entertained and he was just being fussy, which really wasn’t that off track. 

“How’d you know?”

“‘Cause I’m his dad!” He looked away, already regretting having brought his teammates back to your place and therefore letting them meet Tommy. Maybe he should’ve just let them bleed out back then. 

“And you’re honestly telling me that a child will not like this?” Gaz moved it around a bit more, almost tantalising his lieutenant. 

Ghost peaked back at the small teddy bear, its fur fluffy and inviting and its black button eyes adorning its little face. 

“Just take it, mate. It’ll make me really happy!”

“I don’t care about your happiness, Sergeant.” Ghost snapped, snatching the toy from his grasp and shoving it into one of his pockets, ignoring the bright smile Gaz sent him and the punch to his shoulder. 

“God, you’re the best, Ghost. Text me if he likes it, eh?”

He never did text Gaz back, but Gaz had apparently ran his mouth to Soap about Ghost’s reluctant acceptance of the gift, since the next time he saw Soap, the scot had kindly brought a little teddy bear with a tiny Scottish flag in its paw. 

And although Ghost wanted nothing more than to rip it up in front of him, he found himself passing them on to Tommy the day he came back to you, “reluctantly” sending each of the Sergeants a picture of the small boy curled up to the two bears.

[reiderwriter]

Let Me Love You, Baby

Chapter 7 of That's What You Get Prev Chap // Next Chap

Warnings: Oral (M and F receiving), nipple play, handcuffing, BDSM themes, dom! Spencer, sub! Reader, breeding kink, creampie, handcuffing, a variety of PinV sex positions, multiple orgasms, squirting mention, mentions of different types of orgasms involving penetrative sex and anal sex. 18+ MINORS DNI Summary: Your memories of your wedding night come back. Not all of them, just the interesting ones.

A/N: If you're enjoying this series please PLEASE let me know in the comments! I've really been loving the theories about who the other witness is and I've changed my mind like three times on who it is eventually going to be BUT I've made up my mind now and I think it's going to be a great reveal lmao. This chapter has been on my mind since I started the series and I'm so happy you can all finally read it, but it is also A Lot of sex because every time I had a thought, I wrote it down and then didn't self-edit lmao. You can find my masterlist here, the series masterlist in the link above, and if you enjoy my smut, think about checking out my kinktober masterlist or my AO3 account for daily spicy content next month! <3

You stumbled, drunk, into the room, not sure in the haze if it was yours or his. The card had passed between you in many hushed giggles through the hall as you eagerly pulled each other forward. Falling onto the bed, you let out a contented sigh as Spencer fell next to you, face first into the sheets with a small laugh. 

“I can’t believe we did that!” You grinned, meeting his eyes as he turned his head towards you. “We’re married!” 

“We are.” He smiles, and you can’t help but let your eyes fall to his lips, swollen and pink from your earlier enjoyment of one another. You start to laugh, not fully understanding why, but thinking it probably had a lot to do with the alcohol you’d consumed. Bringing a hand up to his face, you let a finger run over the corner of his mouth, wiping away a tiny splash of red you’d deposited earlier. 

“Your lips are swollen.” 

“Whose fault is that?” He leans in and catches your lips again in his and you squeal at the sudden contact, excited to feel him against you again. He’s soft and gentle at first, but as you gasp underneath him your breaths get shorter, stopping just shy of moans as you let your hands trail up and down his body. But the edge of the bed is uncomfortable, so you push him off, following his lips still as he pushes himself further up, straddling his waist as you let yourself melt into him. 

“How did this happen again?” You ask, memory already feeling a little fuzzy, as you think back on the stressful few weeks you’ve had and how much better this feels. How nice it is to have someone underneath you, pressed against you, holding you. 

“Is that important right now?” He asks, lips seeking yours again as you turn your head just as he tries to connect, giggling at his pout. 

“You know, I always thought getting married would be this whole huge thing. Hundreds of guests, 18 months of stress while planning, you never really know on the day if the man you’re attempting to lock down is actually going to be on the other end of that aisle or if he’s bolted somewhere.” His lips are carving a path down your throat as you talk, memorizing the peaks and falls of every inch of your skin, committing you to memory like a prayer. 

“A man would have to be absolutely stupid to leave you at the alter, Y/N.” He says those words that prick your heart so easily, worming his way in, without even breaking his lips away from their spot on your collarbone. 

“Then if he didn’t leave, he’d be too drunk to perform on the wedding night, and so the entire day would end up just being a bust anyway.” He smiles into his final kiss, letting it linger against your skin as he pulls away and looks into your eyes. 

“How drunk are you, Spencer?” Your voice falls to a hush as you shift your weight in his lap, opening your legs just a smidge wider, shifting forward so more of you is falling over his clothed member, pressing up against him as close as possible. 

“You’re talking too much,” he growled out, and, grabbing you by the neck, pulled you into another heated kiss. This one isn’t giggles and soft sighs, it’s a clash of teeth and tongue and desperation, and you suddenly have the answer to your question as you feel him stiffen beneath you. Grinding down into him, you let him take control of your actions, letting him tell you when you can come up for air. 

When he finally pulls away from you, you stay connected through a line of saliva stretching from your lolling tongue to his mouth. He breaks it with his thumb, forcing the digit into your mouth as you suck your shared mess from him. 

“Definitely not too drunk.” 

You couldn’t help yourself then, as you pulled his thumb from your mouth and shifted your body down the bed until your face was parallel to his crotch, beginning to palm him in his trousers. 

“If we’re married,” you say, popping the button on his pants open. “We should probably get to know each other's… preferences early on. Stop any future arguments from occurring, right?” You looked up at him through hooded eyes, plastering the most sinful smile you could muster on your face. He stayed quiet, but you felt him twitch underneath your hand, and decided that was response enough. 

“You can bite me and scratch me if you want. I like it. Pull my hair, spank me, choke me until I’m begging to cum. I like all of it. You’re in control now, Spencer. You can do whatever you want with me, so long as it ends with your cum down my throat or stuffed inside me.” Finishing your speech, confidence fueled by alcohol and the buzz of your wedding vows, you slip his cock from its cloth prison and take it directly into your mouth. 

It’s thicker than you expected, and you just sit with the tip of it in your mouth for a second, trying to find a comfortable position. When you finally do, you push slowly down on it, letting your tongue tease and trace a path down. You don’t make it to the base before you’re pulling off, reaching what you expect to be your max about halfway down. You set a rhythm for yourself, hands pumping the rest of him as you coax the cum from him. 

He gives you three minutes of fun before he decides that you need a little help reaching your full potential. Fisting a hand into your hair, and cradling the back of your neck in his other, he stills your motions before pushing you further down his cock, bypassing your gag reflex as your throat battles against the position he’s put you in, your nose tickled against his soft curls. 

“Okay, let’s talk preferences. I’d prefer it if you ask permission before you touch something, whether that be me or yourself. I’d prefer if you used a safe word if this all gets a bit much for you. And I’d prefer you to relax that little throat of yours so I can fuck a load of my seed down it baby, okay?” He pulls you up by the hair and you nod, rasping out a yes as you gasp for air. 

“Safeword is profile, tap twice if you need air.” And with that, he’s fucking your face again, pushing and pulling you by your hair as your mouth leaks spit. This was going to be a moment you’d never forget, the taste of his precum at the back of your throat, burning its way down. 

Shrugging off his pants completely, he keeps at his movements, your head still working over him like you’re simply a fleshlight for his personal use. He grunts and twitches into you, signaling his impending release, and you try to ready yourself for the sting of the liquid hitting the back of your throat. He cums hot and fast, and you swallow around him, but there’s so much, it spills out of your mouth quickly, dripping down your chin and neck. 

“Good girl. You listen to instructions well.” He pulls you up to his lap again as he begins undressing you, not bothering to wipe his cum from your mouth. 

In a matter of seconds, he has you completely bare for him. Pulling your legs further up, he lets your torso fall back into the bed before shimmying himself down, coming face-to-face with your core. 

“You remember the rules?” He asks, and you nod, answering his question. 

“No touching, safe word is profile. Is that it?” 

“One more thing. You’re not allowed to cum until I say so, okay?” You let out a moan of discontent then, but he shuts you up with a light slap to your face, coming up to press a kiss to your lips before traveling south again. 

“Relax for me, baby,” he says as he spreads your legs and stretches out his tongue to finally come in contact with your needy core. His tongue is skilled, and you almost immediately break one of his rules as you arch off the bed, trying your best not to suffocate him between your thighs as you search for ways to heighten this pleasure. 

He wastes no time being gentle, just fully eating you out like it was his job to make you cum on his face. His tongue stretched from your clit to your hole, flattening out and writhing in equal amounts as your pleasure built to a frenzy. Your hands gripped into the sheets and you clung to the single thought that maybe a punishment from your new husband wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. 

Your hands drift to his hair, gripping tightly as you begin bucking into his mouth, completely lost in your base desires. He quickly grips your hands and pins them to the bed again though, pulling away just before you even think about climaxing against his face. 

“Spencer,” you beg, your moans sounding like the sobs of a spoiled child. 

“You broke a rule, princess. I can’t just let you get away with that.”  You moan at the loss of contact, your voice whinier than you'd ever heard it. 

He left the bed entirely then, and you lifted your head up to follow his path to the drawers by the side of the bed. Opening it, he picked up the wedding license you'd discarded on the floor, placing it nearly inside and slowly pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Your standard FBI set, not something light, flimsy, and cushioned with fluff, these were hard and cold against your skin as he returned to the bed. 

"Wait, S-Spencer…. Really?" You panicked as he pulled one arm over your head placing it parallel with the headboard, trapped between the slats. He tightened the cuff around your hand, leaving one free as he started kissing down your arm, down to your shoulder and into the hollow of your neck. 

"Yes, really. Now since you want to use that other hand so badly, why don't you use it to get yourself off." You swallowed the spit in your mouth, and nodded at him, before doing just as he asked, picking up where his hands had gotten off. 

He shifted to sitting just by your side, lifting your body half on top of him, your back pressed up against his chest as he watched over your shoulder as your hand-worked you into a frenzy. Bringing both of his hands around your body, he started playing with your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, pulling and fondling your breasts as your breathing became more labored. 

"There are seven different female orgasms, you know. The clitoral orgasm, the G-spot orgasm, the blended orgasm, the anal orgasm, the A-spot orgasm, a purely psychological orgasm, and," he leaned down closer to your ear to finish his sentence. "The nipple orgasm." You struggled against the handcuff as you felt the tightness build in your chest, but he grabbed and held your other hand close to him as he pushed up on top of you again. 

"How many do you think you'll get tonight, Y/N?" He asked, lowering his head back to your chest as you bucked your hips wildly, trying to feel him in between your legs. 

He pushed down your hips and kept his attention on your chest, your brain going fuzzy with the contact as the orgasm that had been imminent kept growing until you couldn't stop it from rushing over you, chumming with his attention solely on your chest. 

"You didn't answer my question?" He brought his head up, frowning slightly as you blinked your eyes open and focused on his shape above you. 

"Did you read some kind of sex book, Spencer? Jesus Christ that was…" You couldn't say anything else and he chuckled from above you. 

"I didn't read one, I've read multiple, and it's less reading and more committing to absolute memory." He swooped back down to your lips. "Answer the question, how many do you think you'll get tonight?"

"Two?" You ask vaguely, immediately opening your mouth back up to keep rambling. "But Spencer I've never really had more than one with another person and I'm not sure if I even can-" 

"You can. You will. You promised to listen to me, remember?" You flushed at his words, choosing simply to just nod for him instead of trusting your tongue to spit out the right words. 

"Good girl," he says, wrapping your legs around him, and running his cock through your folds, holding it there as he teased you. 

"I don't have to use a condom, right? You want me to drop my load directly into you, right? We're married now, so I can just fuck my seed into you, hmm?" You moaned out, begging for him to just push into you, to keep his promises and pleasure you again and again. 

"Hands in the sheets baby, come on, no touching remember?" You did as you were told, and with another kiss to your lips, tongues locking in your battle, he thrust his entire length into you in one movement. 

A scream of pleasure ripped out of you, just as quick and fast as you were sure you ripped the sheets of the bed, your sharp nails digging in for dear life as you struggled against the desire to hold him against you. 

"That's it, princess. That's it." He starts thrusting, snapping his hips up, and slowly pulling himself out again. For a moment, it was like you weren't breathing at all, his body feeding you everything you needed to sustain yourself. Lungs burning, you gulped in large breaths of him. His tongue swallowed each and every complaint, as he shared in your pleasure. 

He wasn't afraid to be vocal, like some men you'd been with in the past, and the sounds of his pleasure echoed out louder than your own. He was moaning in your ear, telling you how beautiful you looked on him as he pounded into you relentlessly. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he slapped into you again and again. 

His hand came up to your face as he grew closer to his climax, pushing his fingers back into your mouth as he turned your face further against the pillow. Your spit dribbled out of your mouth as you moaned around his fingers, pussy clenching on his dick as you felt your embarrassment rise. 

"So pretty and messy," he mumbled, hips keeping his pace up. 

"Did you make sure to swallow all of my cum earlier baby? Because if there was any of it left on my cock, I'm fucking it into you. Going to drop another load next to it so you can feel me knock you up." 

Unlike your first orgasm, you don't feel this one coming, you just know that he's hitting a spot so deep that it's never been reached before and saying the exact words that are pulling it closer to you, and then you're ecstasy has you squirting around his dick. 

"That's right. There you go, baby, lay nice and calm there, I need to keep going."

You were overstimulated, already feeling your desire burn a path through you again. He pulled out though, but made it clear that his intention was just to switch the positions of your bodies. 

Making sure not to twist your locked-up arm uncomfortably, he laid on the bed and pulled your fucked out body on top of him. You shivered at his touch and he pulled you further into his embrace warming you up. 

Your chest was pressed against his back, your head rolled back on his shoulder as he gently coaxed your legs apart one more time. 

"That's it, baby, you're listening so well. Just push your legs apart for me, okay?" You did as he asked, and he pressed your legs further up and apart, grabbing into the flesh of your thighs as he aligned his dick with your aching pussy and pressed into you one more time. 

The new angle had you moaning around you, as he encouraged you to start lifting your hips up and down, as he trusted up into you, your eyes rolling back into your head as he hit an electric point inside of you. He grabbed your hand to steady you as you moved to a seated position, letting your heels dig into the bed as you began riding him.

You were so tired that it didn't last long though, your hips stuttering awkwardly. 

"It's okay, Y/N, I'll do the rest, you just stay right there." From his place underneath you, he kept your thighs from above him as he thrust into you just as quickly as before, somehow maintaining his stamina despite the edging, the alcohol, and the energy you'd already exerted. 

Just as you were really about to lose your mind, he pulled out again, escaping from beneath you and gently laying you back on the bed. 

"One more position, princess, and then we can rest. You've been so good for me, you can do this, right? Can let me drop all of my cum inside you?" You nodded another sleepy yes, eyes somewhere between closed and open. There was no strength left in your body to stiffen up as he began moving your now malleable body into position, but that doesn't mean you didn't let out a moan at the way he'd stretched you out. 

Pushing your legs apart again, he's settled between them, but instead of letting them wrap around him, he'd kept hold of them, pushing your knees up still until they were on either side of your chest. He kissed away complaints and approvals that didn't come and slowly pushed into you again. 

He was evidently close, by the way he was drawing this out now. His fingers found your clit as his cock slowly worked in and out of you, the snap of his hips completely controlled and even in tempo. 

"Just keep doing that, Spence, oh my god," you begged, words suddenly returning to you. His fingers on your clit increased in pressure, but his pace otherwise didn't change, and you soon felt that third orgasm ripple through you, finally leaving you with no more to give. 

Your last fall from grace had him following you swiftly after, his lips finding yours as he crashed back down on top of you, hips stuttering as he drank you in like wine. 

The rest was a blur, really, sleep having claimed you so swiftly that you barely remember the words he had definitely whispered to you as soon as he caught his breath again. 

"I love you. It's always been you." 

Other than a vague recollection of him rearranging your legs so you wouldn't struggle to walk the next day, and the sensation of a cold, damp cloth on your skin, nothing besides remained. 

–X– 

It's unfortunate, really, that the memory came to you when you did, his lips on yours heating you up in a way that made you absolutely want to relive every experience he had given you. But paralyzed with shock, you'd had only one recon to choose a reaction, and out of fight, flight, fawn, or freeze, you'd gone for slam the door in his fucking face. 

Not your finest moment. 

Which is why after two minutes of listening to his confusion on the other side of the hall, your brain kicked back into gear and you started weighing your options. 

It would be wrong to open the apartment doors and pull him back in, right? It would certainly be wrong to pull him in and demand a re-do of the first time you'd forgotten. Would he even want to redo doing it with you? And what did he mean when he said "I love you." 

It was those words more specifically that scared you. You'd both been absolutely intoxicated when you'd fallen into the wedding chapel together and still remarkably unstable afterward presumably. There was a high likelihood that he hadn't known what he was saying, and taking a risk on a friendship for half a memory and wishful thinking wasn't a great calculation. 

But gripping the door handle, you realized your body had made the decision for you, completely overwhelmed by the need to see him again. 

When you opened the door, no one was there. Your phone pinged with a text as you looked around disappointedly, not finding him anywhere. Looking down at your phone, you cursed your own stupidity as you read his message. 

"Sorry. I won't do that again."

You typed out explanations and deleted them over and over for what seemed like an hour, guilt eating you up. 

Eventually, you threw your phone down in resignation, and, grabbing your groceries, started frantically planning your next steps. 

Step one: wallow in your own misery. 

Step two: crack open the single bottle of red wine in your pantry. 

Step three: beg for heavenly guidance. 

After the wine was opened, you picked up the phone again and shot off a quick emergency message to Penelope. 

"Pen, need help, may have just ruined EVERYTHING with Reid because I remembered our wedding night mid-kiss - long story. Mine, now? Xx"

You couldn't stand to look at your phone after that, putting it on silent and assuming the single time it flashed was confirmation that Penelope was on her way. After half an hour, you sprang from your seat at the sound of the door, making your way back to the scene of your most recent number one embarrassing memory. 

Only opening the door to Emily Prentiss, you were sure you'd just dethroned yourself. 

"You're going to have to start from the beginning or explain to me that that message had multiple typing errors, because just when did you and Reid get married, and why is it suddenly over now?" 

--X--

🏷️ Pt 1 @w-windy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira

@danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil

[turtletaubwrites]

Sweet Abduction ~ Part 3 ~ End

I absolutely adored this request, and you can click here for Part 1 and Part 2. I was nervous about trying my hand at some smut with this lovely 16.5 ft (509 cm) tall man, but y'all overwhelmingly voted for a smutty ending, so I did my best. I hope you enjoy this sweet conclusion! 💜🍩

Pairings: Katakuri x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3781

Ao3 Link

Summary: You and your new husband get to know each other, and what makes the other feel good. Maybe this abduction was a miracle after all.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Light Angst, Grief, (reader's dad has passed and she thinks about him a lot), Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Spit, Comeplay, Size Kink, Human/Monster Romance, He's freaking 16 ft tall, Reader is too sweet for this world

A/N: I love these two so much, they deserve all the sweetness in the world! 🥰

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

Every slow, steady step of the man who carried you sent your heart beating faster.

Your husband held you against his massive chest, the moment you were waiting for fast approaching. Your lungs didn’t quite know what to do now that it was so close. 

“Do you have a map? I think I’ll get lost in here on my own.”

Katakuri’s soft chuckle felt so soothing through his warm skin.

“I’ll have one drawn up for you. There’s also some vehicles that you can use to traverse it quickly, and tomorrow the staff will return, so you can always ask for their assistance.”

“Staff,” you chirped, once again feeling out of place.

“Yes. I dismissed them for the evening so that we… I thought we should be alone on our wedding night.”

He couldn’t see your shy smile as you bit your lip, but you were sure he felt the bob of your head as you tapped it against his chest. 

“Here we are,” he announced, opening a door made for someone his size.

“How do I open the door?”

Katakuri apologized, clearing his throat as he set you down. You had never met anyone so calm and polite, and you had no idea why it should make your skin flush the way it does.

Beside the door he’d opened was one your size, and you bit the inside of your lip to hold in laughter. 

It’s like a pet door.

The image of your door, so tiny next to his, reminded you of those little doors for dogs and cats.

It didn’t seem right to make that sort of comment on your wedding night when you didn’t know how he’d react, so you bounced on your toes, trying to think of anything else.

He led you inside an immense suite that hardly seemed different than all the walkways and rooms you’d already passed. 

Except for a corner of the room that had been decorated as an extravagant bedroom for you, your furniture looking adorable amidst all the space. 

“Where’s your bed?”

Reaching to touch his knee as you surveyed the room, the only furniture you saw of his size was a desk and chair. 

“I never lay on my back.”

“Katakuri,” you hissed, poking his leg, “Please tell me we don’t have to keep up the lie in our own bedroom?” 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said softly, kneeling to see you closer, “the staff enter this room occasionally, and I can’t risk it.”

A pout formed on your face from the disappointment, but he only smiled, bringing his finger to his lips as if shushing you.

That finger stretched, and your eyes went wide as the tip of it formed into a key.

He stood against a blank wall and pressed a brick as if it were a button. The wall slid away to reveal a large door, which he unlocked with that mochi key, offering his hand to carry you inside. 

“This secret really is precious to you,” you giggled, listening to the wall slide back into place after he locked you in with him.

“It is.”

Your laughter halted as he set you down on the edge of the bed. 

“Don’t worry,” you promised, gripping the soft blankets as he sat on the floor in front of you. “You’re my family now. I’ll protect your secret.”

“I know,” he said, the trust in his deep voice making you smile.

The small smile on his wide lips brought that fluttery feeling back, and you dangled your feet off the side of the bed. The bed was only a little taller than you were, so hopping onto it yourself would be like jumping a fence.

Falling off of it in the dark would still hurt.

Meeting his crimson eyes, your skin flushed again as you realized how distracted your mind was. How nervous you were. How he sat so patiently, his silence always peaceful instead of awkward. 

“Y/N, we don’t ha–”

“Katakuri, can you–”

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat as you gave a small laugh, “you go first.”

Your voice came out high as you tried not to squirm. 

“Can you kiss me again?”

This time his silence held more than peace. His brows tensed just slightly, looking at you as if he didn’t understand. 

But he came to you. 

One of those strong, warm hands stroked your hair, pressing lightly against your back. As he moved in, you couldn’t believe how a man so sweet could have such sharp and dangerous teeth. 

I know he won’t hurt me. 

The thought made you sigh with contentment, and you pressed your lips against his larger ones, minding the tusk-like fangs on either side. 

“Wait,” you breathed against him before pulling yourself up to kneel on the bed.

Those eyes were even more gorgeous up close, and you smiled at him before tracing your fingers along his jaw. 

The way he’d reacted when you kissed his neck earlier made you want to kiss him more, so you did.

His hand on your back tensed when you laid your lips along his scars, but you whispered ‘wait,’ and he let you keep going. Keep touching and kissing his beautiful face until you heard, and felt, a satisfied hum move through him. 

“This feels good?”

“It does. What feels good for you?”

Shyness hit you again, and you bought time by taking off your shoes and tossing them as far as you could, bringing what seemed to be another rare smile to those wide lips. 

You hoped that smile wouldn’t be rare with you.

“I like when you touch me,” you started, fighting to keep eye contact as the hand at your back moved softly against your hair and shoulders. “I like when you hold me. I like feeling you.”

“Will you tell me if you don’t like something, or want to stop?”

“Of course,” you agreed, grabbing his wrist, “will you keep telling me what you like?”

“Let’s agree to do both,” he said, both of you nodding as he pulled his hand away. 

“If you’re comfortable, Y/N,” he started, his deep eyes pouring over you, “I would love to see you. All of you.”

“Oh.”

Blood rushed to your face, your cheeks, the tips of your ears, but you climbed away from the edge to stand on the bed. 

After a moment of struggle, you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I can take it off myself,” you gasped with laughter, turning to show him the complicated lacing that a team of servants had done up for you.

“May I help,” he chuckled softly, bringing his fingers to your wedding dress when you agreed.

Just those fingers running along your spine, pulling and tugging at your dress, was enough, bringing more delightful chills across your skin.

“Hmm…”

“What,” you asked, voice breathy.

“Would you be opposed to me tearing the lacing open? I don’t believe I can untie this without harming you or the dress.”

“I don’t mind! I didn’t even pick it out,” you laughed.

“I’m sorry–”

“Oh, don’t be sorry, Katakuri. I’m happy we’re here together now,” you turned to smile at his guilt ridden face. “Please get this thing off of me, husband.”

Seeing guilt replaced with satisfaction at your words made you want to keep doing that. Keep making your sweet, frightening partner look happy. 

“Will you trust me?”

You agreed, then followed as he guided you into his hand, leaning over to bare your back to him.

“Please stay still, Y/N.”

A breath held in your body as he brought you close to his face. He never touched your skin, but you felt the laces snap and loosen, and knew he’d cut them with his teeth. 

So sharp. 

He set you on your feet, and you held your dress up as the back fell. Katakuri opened and closed his mouth, and you realized that you could both talk awkwardly through the whole night if one of you didn’t push through.

You let that heavy, decadent fabric fall down your skin, giggling a little as you had to shimmy it down your hips. You hopped out of the circle of fabric, and tried not to cover yourself with your as you stood in lingerie. 

What do I do with my hands?

Katakuri’s eyes were so intense, as if you could feel them on you. Instead of squirming, you surprised yourself, stripping the lingerie until nothing but skin remained.

He took a deep breath, and sighed, tilting his head toward you.

“You are gorgeous, Y/N. I thought so the moment we met.”

“Same to you,” you teased, deciding to sit back down to fight off the urge to hide.

He removed his white boots and vest while you watched. You bit your lip not to laugh at how cute it was that he’d kept his frightening spikes and buckles, and just made everything white. Sitting in front of you again, his smile seemed stronger, as if he was starting to believe it was alright to show it. 

“I would like to make you feel good. Can I try?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed, hands shaking with nerves as Katakuri bunched up the blanket behind you like a pillow. He leaned over you, that soft press of lips against yours before he hovered over your chest, eyes darker now. 

“Please tell me if this is alright,” he checked in, humming quietly as you nodded.

The touch of his breath on your skin was already amazing, breathing over your chest, your stomach, your legs. His hands brought a gasp to your throat, arching your back as he traced fingers all over you, until your skin was tingling.

“That feels so good.”

Your praise was like an invitation, and soon those large fingers were massaging your breasts. He was so so gentle as he teased your nipples, and you heard his soft intake of breath when you cried out. 

Those fingers trailed down to your thighs, spreading them softly.

“Is it al–”

“Please touch me, Katakuri,” you begged, spreading your legs further for him.

All the deep, pleased noises he had let out as you reacted to him made your eyes roll back, and the feather light touch of one of his fingers through your folds was almost overwhelming.

“Y/N…”

His pause brought your eyes to him, and you felt your body clench with need as you watched him lick the taste of you off his finger.

“You’re so wet, so sweet... Is this all for me,” he asked softly, bringing his finger back to slide along all that wetness, finding your clit to circle gently.

His words hit you like a tease, but somehow you knew he was genuinely asking.

“Yes, Katakuri,” you managed to confess while his finger made you twitch. “You make me feel so good. I want you.”

His mouth parted as he watched you writhe for him. You fought to keep your eyes on his, wanting him to see it, to believe it. 

His jaw loosened just a bit, his eyes growing even darker as he circled that finger around your entrance. 

That finger was at least the width of two of a man your size, and it was so long. He tested you, pressing in softly, smiling at your nod before plunging it inside of you. 

Slowly thrusting, he brought his other hand to your face, rubbing his thumb along your cheek.

“I can’t believe how lucky–”

He cut himself off with a groan as you turned your head to take that large thumb into your mouth. You sucked and bit at him, swirling your tongue around his thumb as you watched those hungry eyes. 

He curled the finger inside you, hitting that sweet spot until you were moaning around his thumb.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rasped as he drew that thumb out of your mouth, trailing spit down your chin. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

Katakuri kept his promise, bringing that spit covered thumb to your clit. Already so close, you moaned as he teased another finger, testing, pressing gently until you nodded, now plunging two of those large fingers in to stretch you. 

“Please, please, please.” 

“Are you okay–”

“Yes, please please,” you panted as his fingers started working in you.

“Mm, does my lovely girl want to come? Do it for me, sweetheart. Come for me.”

“Katakuri!”

Your hands fisted into the blanket, back arching as you moaned, screamed for him. For your sweet, scary husband whose fingers stretched and fucked you, curling up again and again, his large thumb rubbing perfectly over and around your clit.

It felt like an explosion, your mind going blank for everything except for raging pleasure, your body thrashing on that huge bed. 

When your awareness came back, you were still twitching from aftershocks as he chuckled, smoothing those hands along your skin again.

“Kata… kuri… that felt amazing.”

“I’m so glad,” he sighed, tracing fingers through your hair. “Do you need anything?”

He helped as you struggled to sit up, your breathing still ragged as you grinned up at him. 

“I want to make you feel good, please.”

“I…”

“Can I try?”

His own breath was heavy after what he’d done to you, and that made you want to give him more. 

You chewed on your lip as he stood, removing those white pants with all their buckles and straps. 

“It’s okay, we don–”

Katakuri started to turn away when he saw your jaw drop, but you coughed, your voice coming out high and breathy.

“Will you lie down with me?”

He climbed into bed, propping up on a pile of pillows the size of couch cushions. 

“Tell me if this is alright,” you whispered as you crawled onto his chest.

Smiling at his nod, you laid against him to kiss his neck as you’d done earlier, enjoying the rush of the chills that ran over his skin. 

“I like that,” he rasped, sighing as you left a trail of kisses along the crook of his neck. You teased a small bite, waiting for his response after he twitched slightly. 

“I like that too, Y/N.”

Feeling his body react to your touch like this was delicious, growing that heat in your core, that desire for him. 

Nibbling his earlobe was a dangerous task, but worth it, as this massive warrior squirmed under your touch. 

“N-No more,” he pleaded, gently moving you away from his ear to sit on his chest.

“Did it feel good?”

“It did,” he admitted after a pause.

You answered by laying kisses and soft touches down his chest. 

He must not get a lot of touch in his lonely life, you thought as you enjoyed his reactions. 

I’m going to change that.

You worshiped his gorgeous body as he’d worshiped yours. Kissing and nibbling down his skin, you traced his muscles and tattoos with your fingers while his breathing and gentle moans were like the sweetest of songs. 

Until you worked your way down, and sat beside the gorgeous, throbbing length of him. 

The fact that he was larger than anyone you’d ever seen wasn’t a surprise. The girth alone was intense, but even though his length was intimidating, you tilted your head at it. 

Maybe it’s possible?

You realized you’d been thinking about it almost scientifically, and looked up at his face, a hint of concern on it. 

“Y/N, I don’t need or expect that, there are ple–”

“I won’t lie, Katakuri, you are very intimidating,” you teased, regretting the choice of words immediately as his face started to fall. You gripped onto his hip to bring his eyes back to you.

“But I would love to try that with you. I think we might be able to. Just maybe not tonight.”

“No,” he agreed, his face soft again as he stroked your hair. “I don’t want to hurt you. I only want you to feel good tonight.

“Well, you’re doing a great job so far,” you laughed, poking his side. 

“So are you, little wife.”

The heat in his voice, along with those words, made your skin flush all over again, somehow feeling shy after everything you’d already done.

“I like when you make this face,” he chuckled, touching your cheek. 

“Stop,” you squirmed, hiding behind your hands. 

“Please, don’t hide that pretty face from me.”

His deep voice vibrated through his body, so you could feel his request through your legs as you sat on him, making you shiver more. But you listened, looking up at your gorgeous husband. 

“Perfect,” he whispered, tracing from your temple to your jaw as your lips parted. 

“Can I,” you choked out, clearing your throat before trying again, “can I make you feel good now?”

Seeing those scarred lips curve around those sharp teeth would probably scare most, but you already loved seeing it. It sent warmth right through you before you brought your attention to that needy length of his. 

He had softened a bit as you talked, but you could see the drip of precum that had trailed down, rolling along thick veins that made you bite your lip. 

It twitched before you touched it, already getting hard as his sharp eyes watched your every move. 

Your fingers reached out to tease, just as you’d done across his body, tracing from the base to the tip, eliciting a little twitch from the crimson haired man beneath you.

Trying not to laugh, you realized you might get bucked off if Katakuri twitched too hard. 

Pushing your thoughts away, you focused on the thick flesh in front of you, and the hungry eyes devouring you. 

You had to taste him. Had to. 

With your tongue flattened against him, you licked along those gorgeous veins, licked up that trail of precum, flicking your tongue across the slit of his tip, before kissing it, tongue swirling as you met his eyes again. 

His wide mouth was open, sharp teeth parted as he breathed heavily, and you saw his large hands fisted in his sheets. 

“Does that fee–”

“Don’t stop,” he begged, his voice strained as you’d pulled your mouth away. “Fuck, Y/N, please don’t stop.”

You answered with your tongue, licking and teasing around him, bringing your hands to his throbbing cock that tasted soo good. 

One hand couldn’t fit around his girth, so you used both to slowly stroke up and down while you wrapped your lips around his tip. 

His head tilted back as he moaned, your new favorite sound.

“Just like that, so good…”

Spit dripped down his length as you gave him as much as you could. The feel of him, the sounds he made, it had your own body twisting, clenching with need. You found yourself moaning and rocking your body back and forth as you touched him. 

“Y/N, is that… Are you dripping on me?”

His husky voice made you pause, until his fingers slid between your thighs. 

“Fuuckk,” he cried out as you moaned, his fingers coming away dripping with slick. 

“You like my cock– fuck… this much, honey?”

“Yes, Katakuri,” you whined, your body feeling desperate as you kept stroking him.

“You’re doing so well, little wife. Grind that sweet pussy right here for me,” he gestured, bringing his fist up beside you. 

With shaky limbs, you sat on the back of his hand, finding the perfect friction for you to grind on while you went back to your task. 

The relief made you moan around him, and you opened wider to take as much of his thick cock into your mouth as you could handle. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Sweet mouth feels so good.”

Every delicious word of praise that dripped from those lips was like fuel to the fire in your blood. You rocked against his hand, drenching his skin as your clit got that perfect pressure.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt that thick cock starting to twitch. 

“Wait,” he choked out, his free hand moving to pull himself out of your mouth. 

But you whined, clinging to his cock as you hit your orgasm, grinding on his skin as he started to moan your name. 

The feeling of those veins throbbing and pulsing was incredible. He came spilling into your mouth as your lips were wrapped around his tip. You tried to swallow it all, but it was so much. 

You let it spill down the sides, using it to slide your hands along him a few more times as he let out deep, glorious moans. 

Out of breath, both of you twitched and gasped until you could speak again. 

“You made a mess,” you teased, gesturing to his come as it dripped from your chin to your stomach. 

He let out a surprised laugh, and you gasped as he pulled his hand out from under you. 

“So did you,” he rasped, making your eyes roll back as he licked your wetness off of the back of his hand. 

“How do you feel?”

His gentle words seemed so much more open, less full of worry, and you loved it. 

“I feel amazing, husband.”

“Mm, so do I, little wife.”

You scrunched your nose at the pet name, feeling like you should argue. But you liked it. 

I like him. 

You smiled to yourself as you watched him leave, going to clean up. 

“What’s wrong,” he asked as he returned, that worry back in his voice as he handed you a damp towel. 

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry!”

Tears had pooled in the corners of your eyes, and you wiped them away with a laugh.

“I’m just happy, Katakuri. It’s crazy how this all happened. But I’m really happy to be here with you now.”

This sweet man’s face softened, making you believe your own words even more. You cleaned yourself off, and let him lift you up as he crawled into bed. 

Katakuri laid on his back for you. He let you lie on his chest, the deep rhythm of his heart pulsing through you, sending your relaxed body to sleep. 

But not before his gentle fingers stroked your hair, trailing down your back as you melted, the memory of your dad’s voice coming to wish you goodnight.

‘Don’t fight miracles, sweetheart. Sometimes good people really do get good things.’

You were right, dad. I won’t be alone anymore.

Katakuri’s deep voice rolled over you, proving it.

“I’m happy too, Y/N. I’m happy you’re my family now.”

You drifted off with his warm skin on yours, and had the sweetest dreams you’d ever had. 

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for joining me on this super fluffy adventure! It's definitely the sweetest thing I've ever written, and I hope you you enjoyed it! 🍩💖

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[kingofbodyrolls]

when it sinks in (m) | ksj

Life as a mermaid is wonderful, especially when your merman boyfriend, Seokjin, treats you just right. But you’re beginning to recall memories that you don’t think are yours from life on land— from a past life maybe? When you do realize that the memories are in fact your own, the world comes tumbling down around you, questioning your very existence. Are you even a real mermaid?

→ Pairing: seokjin x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: established relationship → Genres: amnesia romance / fluff / smut / angst / drama / light yandere → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 13.1k → Warnings + triggers: amnesia, memories/visions, betrayal/lying, yandere behavior, controlling, identity crisis, struggling with the concept of ‘home’, drowning, merfolk mating (sex), unprotected sex; breast play, a lot of kissing, oral (male and female), sweet and tender love making, hair pulling, spitting, scratching with nails, gentle aftercare. → Author’s note(1): I finally finished another mermaid story! Only five more to go!!! I really love this universe I’ve created and I can’t wait to explore more for the other members! 💜 → Read on AO3? [link]

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

The cool, wet embrace of the sea wraps around your skin like a silken veil, the deep, dark waters beckoning you into their mysterious depths. Your deep purple, scaly tail shimmers with an ethereal glow, catching the faintest glimmers of sunlight that dance like fleeting whispers on the ocean floor. You revel in the boundless freedom of the sea, gliding effortlessly through the currents, your spirit entwined with the rhythm of the waves. The myriad fish that weave around you are your companions, your fellow wanderers in this underwater realm that pulses with life, a world you have called home for as long as you can remember.

You have never set foot on land; the thought is as foreign as the idea of flight to a stone. Up there, beyond the shimmering surface, lies an unknown, a distant world that holds no allure for you. Down here, in the tranquil depths of the sea, you have found your sanctuary, your eternal haven, a place where time itself seems to pause and stretch into infinity.

A flash of shimmery pink darts past your vision, breaking your thoughts with a burst of playful energy. You can’t help but giggle as Seokjin, with his warm chestnut hair, shimmies away, his laughter bubbling up like pearls from the ocean floor. His presence is a light in the dark, a warm current in the cool embrace of the deep. He’s always been like that—playful, teasing, yet so undeniably yours. You catch sight of him as he attempts to find a new hiding spot, but his broad shoulders and mischievous grin give him away, and the chase is on.

Your tail flips furiously, propelling you through the water with the grace of a dancer. Fish scatter in your wake, startled by your swift movements as you close the distance between you and Seokjin. You’re playing hide and seek—believe it or not, two adult merfolk, lost in the joy of the game, the rest of the world fading into the background.

Before Seokjin reaches the cliffside, he turns to face you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He sticks his tongue out playfully, disappearing behind the rocky surface, but when you round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found. Confusion lingers for just a moment until strong hands wrap around your torso, just below your purple seashell bra, and you’re caught in his embrace. Laughter spills from your lips as he tickles your waist, his head nestled in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. 

“I got you now, huh?” he whispers, his voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. 

His face nuzzles into the curve of your neck, and the warmth of his breath caresses your skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your entire being. Goosebumps rise in a wave, your body responding to his touch with a sigh of contentment. His plush lips graze your neck, planting soft kisses that trail upward until they find your mouth. His kiss is a tantalizing dance, a slow, deliberate exploration that leaves you yearning for more.

Your eyes close as your hands intertwine, your tails curling around each other in an intimate embrace. You pull him closer, your desire for him an insatiable hunger that swells with every beat of your heart. Time seems to dissolve, the world around you blurring into a sea of blue as you lose yourself in the sensation of his kiss, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against yours.

When you finally part, your eyes meet, both of you breathless, pupils wide and dark with longing. Your fingers remain laced together, your hearts beating in perfect harmony, a shared rhythm that speaks of a love as deep as the ocean itself. The dance continues, your bodies swaying in the current, moving as one, the world around you forgotten, reduced to the simple, undeniable truth of your bond.

And as you kiss him again, deeper this time, your tongue exploring his, you feel yourself slipping further into the depths of his love, where you could easily lose yourself forever and be content, knowing that in this moment, in this embrace, you have found your home.

When you part once more, his smile, that worldwide handsome smile, beams like the first rays of dawn, and you feel your heart melt in response. He gently takes your hand, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your skin before bringing it to his lips for a tender kiss. “You know I love you, right?” he whispers, his voice a soft caress that lingers in the water around you.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, the sound light as the bubbles rising to the surface, as his kiss sends a shiver of warmth through you. Your hand sparkles with the ring he gave you—a creamy, lustrous pearl that glows with the promise he made, a symbol of forever. The memory of that moment when he asked you to be his, when you said yes with every fiber of your being, floods your mind, filling you with a love that feels as deep and endless as the ocean itself.

“Hmm,” you hum, your eyes reflecting the love that fills your heart, “I love you too.”

You smile, letting the moment wrap around you like a comforting current, and the once-blurred surroundings now sharpen into focus. Tiny yellow fish dart around with playful energy, their tails wiggling like ribbons in a breeze, while obsidian ones lurk in the wet sand below, their movements slow and deliberate. Schools of silver fish glide by in perfect synchrony, their scales catching the light in a shimmering dance that weaves through the water like a living tapestry. The underwater world around you is a lush, vibrant realm of greens and blues—kelp sways gracefully in the gentle currents, tangles of sea plants flourish with life, some adorned with delicate flower buds that bloom like jewels in the ocean’s embrace. The water, dark but crystal clear, reveals hidden caves and rocky outcroppings, perfect for hide-and-seek adventures, waiting to be explored.

A sudden, gentle touch against your tail startles you, and you turn to see Jungkook behind you, his expression one of playful exasperation. “Hyung! Jimin’s missing again,” he groans, his voice carrying a note of frustration. “Sorry, ___, I didn’t mean to swim into you.” He flashes you a sheepish grin before turning his attention back to Seokjin, not batting an eye at the fact that he interrupted your mating ritual.

Seokjin rolls his eyes, a sigh escaping him like the whisper of a tide. “Last time I saw Jimin, he said he got caught in a net on a boat but managed to escape. Maybe he got caught again?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen in horror, his imagination running wild. “Shouldn’t we help him then?”

Seokjin dismisses the concern with a casual wave of his hand, his confidence unwavering. “Nah, he’s perfectly fine on his own. He’s a grown merman." He reaches for your hand once more, pulling you close, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment.

“If he’s gone for longer than a week, maybe we can look for him,” he adds with a playful tug, drawing you gently away from the conversation. You hear Jungkook muttering something about Jimin’s unfamiliarity with humans and the risk of being discovered, but Seokjin’s calm, easy going demeanor remains unshaken, a quiet reassurance that everything will be alright.

As you swim away together, you take in the vibrant world around you, feeling a profound sense of peace and belonging in the depths of the sea. The worries of the surface world seem distant and insignificant here, where every moment is filled with wonder and the comforting embrace of the ocean. 

You glide alongside Seokjin back to your cove, a sprawling underwater city that rises like a dream from the ocean floor. Tall, castle-like buildings with turrets and spires reach toward the surface, their walls adorned with coral and sea glass, reflecting the light in a kaleidoscope of colors. It’s a place out of a fairytale, a sanctuary where you feel truly at home. You smile and wave to your mermaid friends as they swim by, their envious glances not lost on you. Many merfolk admire your relationship with Seokjin, a merman whose heart is as kind as his looks are striking, and their gazes only bolster your confidence. 

As you weave through the swaying kelp towards the cave you call home, red crabs scuttle along the sandy bottom, and the ocean hums with life all around you. Here, in this enchanted realm beneath the waves, you find your true north, your place of peace, and your heart’s deepest joy.

Suddenly, your vision fades to black, and a cascade of unfamiliar images flashes before your eyes, like a distant memory surfacing from the depths of your mind.

You feel the grainy texture of sand between your toes—a sensation both alien and intimate. Toes, an unfamiliar part of you, sink into the soft, white sand as you sit, letting it slip through your fingers like a whisper of time. The sea’s foam caresses your feet, a delicate tickle that brings a smile to your lips as you gaze out at the endless expanse of water. It’s always been beautiful, this vast ocean, a constant in your life, and it always will be. You look back at the shore, where your friends wave and smile, their faces warm and inviting, yet somehow distant.

Then, just as suddenly, the vision dissipates, and the familiar contours of your shared cave snap back into focus. Seokjin’s worried gaze meets yours, his eyes searching your face for answers.

“Are you okay, babe?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

You blink, disoriented, as if waking from a dream that clings to the edges of your consciousness. “Huh?” you murmur, glancing around the cave, feeling a strange, unsettling disquiet. What had you been seeing just moments before?

“Your gaze felt so empty, like your thoughts were far away,” he explains, his brow furrowing with worry. You shake your head, the images slipping from your grasp like water through your fingers, leaving only confusion in their wake.

“I don’t know what happened, but let’s just head home,” you say, squeezing his hand, seeking comfort in the familiar warmth of his touch. You lead him into the cave, the soothing embrace of your shared space grounding you as you try to shake off the lingering disorientation.

That night, cradled in his arms, you toss and turn, haunted by those enigmatic visions. Your mind conjures images that feel like echoes from another life, flickering in and out of focus like a distant star. In your dream...

You walk along a shoreline, the waves gently lapping at your bare feet, each step a curious mix of exhilaration and strangeness. The sensation of solid earth beneath you is foreign, yet thrilling, akin to the freedom of soaring through water as your feet carry you across the warm sand. The scene shifts abruptly, and you find yourself in a bustling café, the sounds around you muffled as if you were underwater, though you clearly aren’t. You sit at a table with women whose faces are familiar, echoing the earlier vision of the beach. They giggle and smile, their words a blur, and you nod along, smiling in return. Your hand curls around a glass of light brown liquid, the ice clinking softly—a scene both alien and intimately familiar.

You wake with a start, your heart pounding, the remnants of the dream still clinging to you like mist.

Where are you? What was that dream?

You remember the sensation of having feet—of walking, of being human.

“Honey, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Seokjin’s voice is soft with concern, his usual cheerfulness replaced by a frown that tugs at your heart. You force a smile to dispel his worry. “I just had a weird dream, that’s all.” 

Because that’s all it was, right? Just a strange dream.

Determined to shake off the unsettling images, you begin your day with a light breakfast, trying to push the dream from your mind. Soon after, you swim out to meet Namjoon, who has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. You had promised to join him on his latest treasure hunt, a quest for crystals, gems, or forgotten relics from the world above. He’s spoken about this adventure countless times, his excitement infectious, and you finally relented, agreeing to accompany him on one of his explorations. As you swim toward him, Namjoon greets you with a soft smile, the anticipation of the day’s quest lighting up his eyes. 

“Hi, ___! Ready for our adventure?” Namjoon’s voice bursts with excitement, his smile as radiant as a child’s on Christmas morning. His baby blue tail flicks with uncontainable energy, the scales catching the light in a playful shimmer.

“Yeah!” you exclaim, matching his enthusiasm as you adjust the crossbody bag slung over your shoulder, prepared to gather whatever treasures the ocean offers.

“Cool, let’s swim,” he says, his voice bubbling with eagerness as he takes the lead, propelling himself forward with powerful strokes. The ocean around you is calm, the water clear and inviting, and as you set off together, you can almost convince yourself that the dream was nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

You swim for what feels like ages, the cool water rushing past you, each movement a blend of grace and strength. As fatigue begins to tug at your muscles, a glimmer of blue catches your eye in the distance. Your heart leaps, anticipation coursing through your veins—finally, you’ve reached your destination. Namjoon’s excitement is almost tangible as he urges you forward, his energy sparking through the water like an electric current.

The sand beneath you is a pale beige, contrasting sharply with the vibrant blue crystals embedded in the rocky surface ahead. It’s breathtaking, a hidden gem in the vast underwater world that you call home. A few curious fish dart by, their scales catching the light as they weave through the water, but otherwise, a profound silence envelops the scene, amplifying its beauty.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper as you take in the mesmerizing sight. You’ve never seen anything like it before, and the wonder of it leaves you momentarily speechless.

“It’s aquamarine,” Namjoon says, his voice filled with awe as he swims closer to the crystals, inspecting them with a reverence reserved for only the most precious discoveries.

You nod, transfixed by the shimmering blue gems. Who would have guessed that your home held such secret wonders, hidden in the depths of the ocean, waiting to be found?

“I want to collect one, just give me a moment,” Namjoon says, his tone both excited and focused as he drops his bag of tools onto the ocean floor, sending up a small cloud of sand. The bag, a cherished relic from one of his many adventures, is always with him. He carefully extracts a few tools, his movements precise and deliberate, as he begins to carve out a chunk of crystal. You watch him work, captivated by the skill and care with which he handles the gem. Once he’s collected a piece for himself, he turns to you, his expression softening as he offers you a small piece of aquamarine.

You accept the crystal, turning it over in your hand. The gem catches the light, reflecting the deep, mysterious blues of the sea. In that moment, it feels like you’re holding a piece of your world’s essence, a tangible reminder of home.

But then, as if pulled by an unseen force, your reality shifts. 

A sudden rumble of thunder jolts you, and the serene underwater scene dissolves around you. Everything sways, and you find yourself on a boat—or perhaps a yacht—gripping the railing with one hand, a glass of crimson liquid in the other. The sky above is dark and foreboding, thick clouds churning with the promise of a storm. Laughter, eerie and out of place, mingles with the sound of thunder, creating a haunting symphony that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Earth to ___!” Namjoon’s voice breaks through the vision, snapping you back to the present. He waves his hands in front of your face, concern etched across his features. Panic surges through you—these aren’t just dreams. They feel tangible, like fragments of another life bleeding into your own. A life that isn’t yours, yet feels disturbingly familiar. You’re a mermaid, never human—or at least, that’s what you’ve always believed. It’s said that mermaids can transform, but you’ve never set foot on land. These visions, these memories, feel foreign, like echoes from another existence intruding on your mind.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon. I don’t know what happened,” you stammer, your voice shaky as you try to push away the unsettling experience. He gives you a thoughtful, worried look, his brow furrowed in concern, but then he smiles gently, his fingers curling around yours as he leads you away, guiding you back towards the comfort and familiarity of home.

As you glide through the water, the aquamarine crystal clasped tightly in your hand, the mysteries of your visions swirl in your thoughts like the endless, spiraling currents of the sea. The deep blue around you pulses with a rhythm all its own, yet your mind is elsewhere, drifting through the shadows of these strange, inexplicable memories that seem to tug at the edges of your consciousness.

Back home, you find Seokjin engrossed in his work, as usual, his focus intense as he prepares materials for his students. He’s a revered teacher, imparting the ancient history of your underwater world to the young merfolk with a passion that’s impossible to ignore. You watch him with quiet admiration, knowing how much he loves sharing tales of the past—stories of how Hoseok’s ancestors founded your vast cove, battling fearsome sea creatures to carve out this sanctuary beneath the waves. Hoseok’s lineage runs deep, their legacy woven into the very fabric of your community, making him something akin to royalty in these waters. Seokjin often speaks of how your city has remained hidden from human eyes for centuries, a secret world cloaked in the ocean’s depths. Yet, in recent times, curiosity about the surface has begun to stir among the younger merfolk, despite the elders’ stern warnings about the dangers of being discovered by humans. Though Seokjin shares these stories with a sense of wonder, you’ve never felt the urge to experience life on land yourself. The sea is your home, your heart tethered to its depths.

“Did you have a good trip with Namjoon?” Seokjin asks, glancing up from the worn pages of a book adorned with ancient symbols. His smile is warm, his presence a steady anchor in the shifting tides of your thoughts.

“Yeah, he gave me a piece of aquamarine. Wanna see?” you reply, pulling the small, shimmering crystal from your bag when he nods. He takes it from you, his eyes reflecting the gemstone’s beauty as he admires it.

“It’s as beautiful as you,” he murmurs, handing it back to you with a gentle smile. You place it beside your nest on the rocky nightstand, the crystal catching the light in a way that reminds you of the first moment you saw it.

The days that follow are peaceful, your visions leaving you in a rare state of calm. You fill your time with friends, letting the little mermaids braid your hair as you embark on new adventures. One day, you swim alongside Taehyung, his curiosity and eccentricity leading you to explore the ocean’s forgotten treasures—remnants of the world above that have found their way to the seabed. The sand is littered with seashells, gold coins, tarnished utensils, waterlogged books, and ancient jewelry. Taehyung, much like Namjoon with his stones—sorry, crystals—collects these artifacts with the wide-eyed enthusiasm of a child, his love for these lost relics bringing a smile to your face as you join him in his explorations.

“Look! There’s a glass over here,” Taehyung calls out, his voice filled with the thrill of discovery. You swim over to him, your curiosity piqued, and inspect the object he holds in his hands. It’s a strange trinket, unlike anything you’ve seen before.

“Glass?” you murmur, the word feeling foreign and heavy on your tongue, as if it doesn’t quite belong in your world.

Taehyung shows you the glass—a large, round vessel with a slender stem that widens into a foot. It resembles a wine glass, and as you gaze at it, a wave of dizziness washes over you. Your vision fades to black.

When it returns, the sound of thunder fills your ears, loud and ominous. You’re no longer underwater but standing on the deck of a yacht, gripping the railing with one hand, the other clutching an almost empty wine glass. The crimson liquid sloshes with the rocking of the boat, staining the pristine glass with its rich hue. The sky above is a stormy canvas, dark and swirling, illuminated only by flashes of lightning that slice through the darkness. A blanket of rain soaks you to the bone, cold and relentless, while eerie laughter mingles with the crack of thunder, creating a symphony that sends chills down your spine.

Suddenly, a massive wave crashes against the yacht, and you lose your grip on the wine glass. It shatters on the deck, the pieces scattering like shards of a broken memory. Another wave strikes, and you’re thrown off balance. You tumble over the side of the yacht, plunging into the churning sea. The waves are merciless, slamming you against the hull, and your head collides with a sickening thud. Your body goes limp, and you begin to sink into the depths, the water filling your lungs as you struggle to breathe. Everything goes dark, the weight of the ocean pressing down on you, dragging you deeper, deeper and deeper into the abyss.

Your eyes snap open, your body trembling, cold sweat slicking your skin. Taehyung stares at you, his expression puzzled and concerned. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice tentative, as if afraid to break the fragile silence that hangs between you.

You nod, biting your lip, though deep down, you know you’re far from okay. What you saw felt so vividly real—falling into the ocean, legs thrashing as a human. These visions must be memories, but memories of what time, what life?

As you reflect, a disturbing realization grips you: you don’t remember anything from before meeting Seokjin. There’s nothing—just a blank void where your past should be. Could these really be your memories? From a life before... before Seokjin?

A shiver runs through you, the chill of dread seeping into your bones. It doesn’t make sense, this absence of a past. Where were you born? Is ___ even your true name? Who are you, really?

These questions swirl in your mind like a storm, dark and turbulent, as unsettling as the depths you plunged into in your vision. You can feel your thoughts unraveling, each thread pulling at the fabric of your reality. Yet, Taehyung, oblivious to your inner turmoil, continues his treasure hunt with the same innocent enthusiasm. You try to hide your growing fear, but your body betrays you with tremors. Perhaps you should confide in Seokjin about these dreams—no, these memories. He’s so knowledgeable about history, about magic; maybe there’s something he can do. The thought of sharing your burden with him is both comforting and terrifying. You feel fragile, like a piece of glass teetering on the edge, a single crack away from shattering into countless, irreparable fragments.

Despite the weight pressing down on you, you help Taehyung search for more treasures, turning over every leaf of kelp, every rocky surface. He fills his bag to the brim with relics from the world above, while you swim beside him, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach. The strange feeling lingers as you reach home, and Seokjin’s eyes find yours, instantly recognizing that something is wrong.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks, his grip on your arms firm, his gaze searching yours, desperate for an answer to the sadness clouding your features.

You let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, unable to meet his eyes.

“Didn’t you have a good time with Taehyung on your treasure hunt?” he inquires, his concern deepening when you shake your head.

“No, the treasure hunt was fine. It’s…” you begin, fumbling with the words, struggling to find a way to explain the unexplainable. But you have to try—maybe he can help. “I’ve been having these weird visions,” you pause, your voice trembling as you swim nervously from side to side, “or memories, I think.”

His expression shifts from curiosity to worry, his handsome face now eerily blank as he listens.

“What kind of memories?” he asks, his voice cautious, as if afraid of what you might say.

“Of me. As a human. With legs. Living on land,” you confess, your words tumbling out in a rush, hoping against hope that he might understand, that he might have some insight into why you’re experiencing these memories—how to make them go away before they consume you entirely. 

He says nothing, his silence a heavy weight between you, and his frown deepens, a storm gathering in his eyes. Your heart sinks, dragging your hope down with it.

“Are these my memories?” you ask, your voice small, trembling as you finally give voice to the fear that has haunted you for days. You hold your breath, waiting for his response, dreading the answer.

But he avoids your gaze, his silence more damning than any words could be. Your heart plummets, sinking into the depths of despair. Does he have something to do with this? What is he hiding from you? What truth is he keeping locked away, and why does it feel like your world is about to unravel completely?

Seokjin descends into the deep, where the ocean’s embrace is tight and unyielding, and where the light above is little more than a distant memory. He loves it here, in the silent, shadowy depths where the world feels vast and endless, yet intimately close. Today, however, his journey is not for himself. Taehyung, bedridden with the flu, has entrusted him with a mission—to find treasures, the peculiar remnants of human life that have sunken to the ocean’s floor. Usually, Taehyung would be at his side, his eyes alight with curiosity, but today, Seokjin searches alone, determined to bring back something special for his friend.

The sandy bottom stretches out beneath him, vast and barren, as he scours it for any sign of something unusual. His hands sift through the grains, but he finds nothing of interest, just the familiar whisper of the ocean around him. Then, a muffled ripple from above disrupts the stillness, and he pauses, his attention caught. He glances upward, but the water is thick, his depth too great to see the sun or the sky. The darkness is all-consuming, but there’s a strange energy in the water—a tremor, a subtle shift. 

He feels it before he sees it, the electric charge pulsing through the sea as the surface above transforms into a chaotic dance of white and yellow. Lightning forks across the sky, and thunder reverberates through the waves, a distant echo that reaches even these shadowy depths. His heart quickens as he senses a looming presence overhead—a large boat, struggling against the storm’s fury. Curiosity tugs at him, urging him closer to the surface, to that fragile boundary between his world and the one above.

But then, a sudden splash shatters the rhythm of the waves, drawing his gaze. Seokjin doesn’t need to see to know something is wrong—he feels it, deep in his core. He propels himself upward, slicing through the water with powerful strokes, and as he nears the surface, the scene unfolds before him. 

There you are—a human—falling helplessly into the ocean, bubbles streaming from your lips as you instinctively gasp for air, only to inhale the saltwater instead. Your eyes flutter shut as your head collides with the boat’s hull, and then your body begins its slow descent into the abyss, like a fragile leaf caught in the current.

For a heartbeat, Seokjin is frozen, torn between the instinct to remain hidden and the overwhelming urge to save you. But he knows he cannot let a life slip away, human or not. With a surge of determination, he rockets toward you, his tail propelling him with swift, graceful power. You’re sinking fast, but he reaches you just in time, wrapping his arms around your limp form. His heart pounds with the hope that you’re merely unconscious, that life still flickers within you.

Panic flares as he realizes the enormity of the task ahead—he’s too far from shore to bring you to safety, and the thought of being discovered by the humans above sends a chill through him. The ocean, with its relentless pull, drags you both deeper with each passing second. He knows he must act, and quickly. There’s no time to waste. Every moment is a battle against the depths that threaten to claim you.

Without hesitation, Seokjin makes his decision. He turns and swims with all his might, his powerful tail driving him forward through the dark waters. His destination is clear—the Sea Witch, the only one who might possess the power to save you. His heart races as he speeds through the ocean, praying that you can hold on just a little longer.

The dark enclave comes into view, a place shrouded in mystery and foreboding. He enters the cave, the water around him thick with an eerie glow cast by bioluminescent algae that clings to the walls. Shadows dance in the dim light, flickering like spirits, and the silence is heavy, almost oppressive. Fish dart away at his approach, sensing the urgency in his movements. 

There, in the heart of the cave, surrounded by shelves brimming with arcane artifacts and ancient relics, he finds her—the Sea Witch. Her long black curls float around her like a halo, moving with a life of their own. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, lock onto him as he approaches. Though she appears youthful, Seokjin knows that her ageless beauty is a mask, a testament to the powerful magic that courses through her veins.

“What brings you here, Seokjin?” she asks, her voice smooth and laced with knowing, as if she’s already aware of the answer. He realizes, with a start, that he’s never known her true name. But it doesn’t matter now. 

Seokjin’s grip tightens around your lifeless form, and with desperation in his eyes, he speaks.

“I need your help,” he gasps, dragging your lifeless form before her. “I found this woman sinking into the sea. I can’t get her to shore in time... Can you save her? Turn her into a mermaid and give her life?” His voice trembles with a mix of urgency and fear, a tremor that reveals the depth of his desperation. Though he doesn’t know you, the thought of your life slipping away fills him with an unnameable dread.

The Sea Witch’s eyes flicker with interest, her gaze sharp and calculating. “Such a request comes with a price,” she murmurs, her voice as soft and dark as the water that surrounds them. Her fingers move to tame her wild hair, but it’s a futile gesture amidst the swirling chaos of her lair, where shadows and light dance in an eerie ballet.

“Anything,” he pleads, his desperation mounting as he feels the fragile thread of your life fraying in his arms. “Just save her.”

The Sea Witch’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “You won’t be able to turn into a human except under the full moon,” she intones, her words echoing through the cavern like an ancient incantation. She waits, her eyes boring into him, before beginning the spell.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he nods and gently pushes you toward her, his hands trembling as he releases you. “It’s fine. Just help her, please.” The price she asks seems insignificant—he rarely ventures onto land, and what are legs compared to a life? Your life, he believes, is worth far more than the ability to walk on two feet.

The Sea Witch begins her incantation, her voice weaving through the water like a thread of silk. As the ancient words spill from her lips, your body begins to glow, the dull pallor of death replaced by a shimmer that pulses with life. Shimmers and sparkles envelop you, swirling like stars caught in a tide, as your legs begin to meld together, forming a sleek, purple tail. The transformation is breathtaking—the skin of your legs morphs into iridescent scales, each one catching the faint light and reflecting it in a myriad of colors. Your clothing shifts, dissolving into the water and reappearing as a seashell bra that perfectly matches the hue of your new tail. Suspended in the water, you look ethereal, like a creature born from the ocean’s deepest dreams.

Then, with a sudden jolt, your eyes flutter open, wide and filled with fear. Panic seizes you, and you curl into yourself, your new tail thrashing in the water as you try to make sense of the world around you. 

“Where am I?” you ask, your voice trembling, the sound echoing softly through the cavern. Your eyes dart around, wide with terror and confusion.

Seokjin moves closer, his heart aching at the sight of your distress. He takes your hand in his, the touch meant to ground you, to offer some semblance of comfort in the midst of your fear. “It’s okay, ___,” he soothes, his voice gentle, his expression warm and reassuring. He doesn’t know your real name, but he calls you by the first name that springs to mind, one that seems to fit the beauty and fragility he sees before him. “You’re safe.”

He offers you a smile, a gesture meant to calm the storm raging inside you, and begins to weave a story—a tale of separation during a treasure hunt, a simple explanation that he hopes will ease your fear. Though your eyes remain clouded with uncertainty, you slowly nod, clinging to his words as though they are a lifeline.

But as you accept his story, a pang of guilt lodges itself deep within Seokjin’s heart. He knows the truth—knows that he’s withheld it from you. Yet, seeing the terror in your eyes, he cannot bring himself to reveal everything, not now, not when you’re so fragile. Perhaps, he tells himself, you will never need to know what really happened. Perhaps, in time, this story will become your truth. And for now, all that matters is that you are alive and safe, held gently in the arms of the ocean, where your new life has just begun.

Listening to Seokjin’s tale of your transformation, how you were once human and are now a mermaid, feels like the world is crumbling beneath you. Doubt and mistrust swirl in your mind like a gathering storm, obscuring everything you thought you knew. What is real anymore? Who are you? Despite the shimmering purple tail that now defines your existence, a gnawing certainty lingers—you once walked on land, breathed the air of the earth, and had friends who must surely be missing you. But why haven’t they searched for you? How long have you been living underwater, unaware of the life you lost? The questions twist within you, each one more agonizing than the last, yet you dare not ask Seokjin, for the trust you once had in him lies shattered at your feet.

Seokjin’s expression is a canvas of regret, yet he remains silent, offering no apology, no explanation. Anger and sorrow churn within you, a tumultuous sea that threatens to drown you. He deceived you, and the visions that have haunted you are not mere dreams but fragments of your stolen past. A wave of nausea rises within you as the weight of this realization crashes down, leaving you feeling displaced, as if you don’t belong in the ocean’s depths. This isn’t your home. You are human, and your heart aches for the life that was unjustly taken from you.

You don’t want to look at him—yet you do, because it suddenly hits you that this might be the last time you ever see him. You take in every detail, committing his features to memory: the sharp angle of his jaw, the curve of his nose—slightly upturned, the beautiful hazel eyes that shimmer with a mix of love and regret. Sadness tugs at your heartstrings, but the thought of his lies and the human life he stole from you reignites your anger. Your gaze traces the sharp line of his eyebrows, the tousled chestnut hair, down to the broad shoulders that taper into a strong chest and a narrow waist, where the scales of his tail begin. The tail shimmers in shades of pink, adorned with light fins at the back, and across his torso, the waist necklace of seashells and pearls—your gift, collected during treasure hunts with your friends—now seems like a mockery. Anger and love coil within you, a tangled mess of emotions, until you can no longer bear to look at him. You simply can’t.

Determined, you grit your teeth, tension rippling through your entire being. Seokjin reaches out, but you back away, your voice sharp and broken as you command, “Don’t follow me!” With that, you turn and swim away, heart pounding, the weight of his betrayal pressing heavily on your chest.

Desperate for answers, you head toward the Sea Witch—the one who played a role in your transformation. Her cave looms ahead, dark and foreboding, the water turning icy as you approach. She lounges on a rocky surface draped with plush kelp, her eyes cold and knowing as they settle on you.

“How can I help you, darling?” she asks, her voice smooth, her gaze piercing through your resolve.

“I want to turn back into my human form,” you declare, your voice steady, though your heart quivers. The Sea Witch nods, no questions asked, as she begins muttering an incantation. Her words wrap around you like a spellbinding current. She tells you that once you reach the shore, you will revert to your human self, but warns that contact with seawater will not return you to a mermaid, as you were not born of the sea. You accept this truth, ready to leave behind the deception that has kept you bound to the ocean.

With a newfound resolve, you swim toward the shore, the water parting before you as if understanding your need to escape. The ocean, once a place of wonder and discovery, now feels like a prison of lies. You are determined to find the truth, to reclaim the life you were meant to live, to breathe the air of the world you were born into. As the sunlight pierces the water’s surface, you push forward, breaking free from the ocean’s hold, ready to embrace your humanity once more.

With a splash, you break through the surface of the water, swimming toward the shore that shimmers on the horizon like a distant dream. You hope no one sees you, a fleeting shadow in the moonlit waves. The beach lies silent, empty, and welcoming as you drag yourself onto the sand, away from the saltwater’s embrace. A few heartbeats later, your scaly tail vanishes, replaced by human legs. You look down in wonder, wiggling your toes, the sensation oddly strange and yet familiar, as though awakening from a long-forgotten dream. A smile spreads across your face as the moon casts its silver light upon the water, a witness to your transformation. 

Suddenly, the reality of your nudity dawns on you, and you glance around for something to cover yourself. Fortune favors you as your eyes catch sight of an abandoned towel, half-buried in the sand, which you quickly wrap around your body like a cloak of newfound modesty.

The grains of sand beneath your toes feel comforting, grounding you in a world that once seemed so far away. You take a few tentative steps, the motion awkward at first but gradually becoming more fluid, as though your muscles remember what your mind had forgotten. As you gaze over the shore, memories flood back in a rush: the thrill of sailing with friends under perfect skies, the sudden fury of a storm, the terror of falling into the sea. Faces of loved ones flash before you—your friends, the loss of your parents when you were still so young, the aching loneliness of being an only child. Your heart sinks under the weight of these memories, leaving you hollow, a stranger in a world you once called home. Do your friends even remember you? How much time has slipped away in your absence?

Your feet, as if guided by some hidden instinct, carry you along what you assume is a familiar path to one of your friends’ places. The city at night envelops you in its quiet hum, and though you’re wrapped only in a towel, you push on, ignoring the leering glances of drunk passersby who whistle as you hurry past. Your heart pounds in your chest, a drumbeat of nerves and determination, until at last, you find yourself standing before a tall apartment building that tugs at the strings of your memory. You walk inside, the glass doors parting like a portal to your past, and head straight to the elevator. For a moment, you hesitate, your hand hovering over the buttons as doubt creeps in. But then, almost of its own accord, your hand presses the number seven. The doors close, sealing you in, and the elevator ascends, carrying you toward the unknown.

When the doors open, you step into the dimly lit hall, each step echoing in the stillness as you approach a door that feels like the right one. You raise your hand to knock, aware that it’s the middle of the night and you might be waking someone who believes you are long gone.

A few soft knocks, and the door creaks open to reveal a tired, sleepy face, one that instantly brings a rush of warmth to your heart—it’s Soohee, your brain whispers.

“___?” she breathes, disbelief thick in her voice.

Your name— you remember it now, and it strikes you as a beautiful twist of fate that Seokjin, without knowing, bestowed upon you your true human name.

“What are you doing here? How are you alive?” she asks, her eyes wide with shock as the door remains slightly ajar, her mind struggling to reconcile your presence with the reality she knows. You just smile, the kind of smile that holds the weight of untold stories, and nod.

“You’ve been gone for two years,” she continues, her voice breaking as she reaches for you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “This is unbelievable. I thought you were dead. I missed you so much.”

You cling to her, the warmth of her arms anchoring you to this world, to the life you were meant to live. The ocean’s secrets may linger, but here, in this moment, you are home.

You let her envelop you in a hug, her familiar scent triggering a flood of memories that rush back with bittersweet clarity. “Come in,” she whispers, her voice tinged with relief, as she gently guides you inside and closes the door behind you, sealing the outside world away. Without a word about your strange attire, she hands you some of her clothes, the softness of the fabric a small comfort, and gently nudges you toward the bathroom to change. Emerging in a baggy shirt and pajama pants that hang loosely on your frame, you find the couch already made up for you, the blankets tucked in as if to cradle your weary body. Sleep should come easily, but it evades you, slipping through your grasp as your mind races, caught between the tangled threads of your human past and mermaid present. Memories of Seokjin and your life beneath the waves tug at your heart, while the bitter aftertaste of his deception lingers like a shadow. Rest remains an elusive dream.

Morning arrives with the pale light of dawn, revealing the dark circles beneath your eyes, evidence of the sleepless night you’ve endured. Soohee hands you a cup of coffee, her concern evident in the way her eyes search yours for answers you’re not yet ready to give. You sit together in the quiet morning, the warmth of the cup a small solace in your hands, as she begins to recount that fateful night. She explains how they didn’t notice you fall over the railing, their laughter and drunken fun drowning out any sound of your descent. Her hands fidget with the hem of her shirt as she speaks, her voice heavy with regret. They searched for you the next day, she says, but the sea offered no clues, and they eventually assumed you had drowned.

Her words fall like stones into the pit of your stomach, offering no comfort, only deepening the ache that has settled there. The knowledge that your friends didn’t do more, that they gave up so easily, weighs heavily on you, pulling you further into the depths of despair. The fragility of your friendship, how quickly they assumed the worst and moved on, leaves you feeling more isolated than ever, a stranger in the life you once knew.

You don’t tell Soohee the full story, offering only that you remember little and somehow washed up on shore. The truth of your mermaid life feels like a fragile thread, too delicate to share, a secret woven into the very fabric of your being that isn’t yours alone to unravel.

An invisible wall stands between you, a tension that hums in the air, hard to define but impossible to ignore. Despite the discomfort, you follow Soohee to a café to meet the rest of your friends. Everything feels slightly off, as if you’re playing a part in a play whose lines you’ve forgotten. There’s an emptiness that lingers in every smile, a sense of unfulfillment that shadows every conversation.

Days turn into weeks, and you find yourself making a temporary home in Soohee’s apartment. Most days, you’re left alone with your thoughts while she’s at work, the silence pressing in on you, heavy and suffocating. Memories of life beneath the ocean rise unbidden, surprising you with their vividness and intensity. You find yourself longing for the rhythm of the sea, the simplicity of underwater existence. And most of all, you miss Seokjin.

You wonder if he misses you too. If he had apologized, would you have fled so quickly? Maybe. The betrayal had felt like a tidal wave, overwhelming and inescapable. But now, in the calm that follows the storm, those feelings have receded, leaving behind a deep, persistent sadness. You realize, with a pang, that you might have overreacted. Seokjin had saved your life, after all. In your anger, you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge that fact.

A sigh escapes your lips as you sit alone in the stillness of the apartment, the quiet wrapping around you like a heavy cloak. Your thoughts are a whirlpool, pulling you deeper into longing and regret. If only you could see him again, to tell him you’re sorry, to let him know how grateful you are. He saved you, pulled you from the brink of death, and in your anger, you hadn’t allowed him to explain, hadn’t given him the chance to speak. 

You miss the comfort of his presence, the reassurance in his eyes that could calm even the fiercest storm. With each passing day, the longing to return to the sea, to him, grows stronger, an ache that gnaws at your very soul. The human world, once your home, now feels foreign and hollow, lacking the vibrancy and depth of the ocean’s embrace.

It saddens you deeply to know you can’t simply walk into the sea and transform back into a mermaid, to leave behind the confusion and reclaim the life that felt more real than anything on land. Life here isn’t what you remember; perhaps it’s because you’ve tasted something far richer beneath the waves. The underwater world was more than just a place—it was a tapestry woven with love, adventure, and the sense of belonging you had never known before. There, you had a family, friends who were like kin. Here, among old acquaintances, you feel like an imposter, a shadow of the person you once were. The friendships you once cherished now seem distant and strained, as if you’re playing a role in a story that no longer fits.

Confined mostly to the apartment, the walls closing in on you, you decide one warm summer day to seek solace at the beach, hoping the sea might offer some answers. The sun blazes in the azure sky, and the water sparkles like a thousand tiny diamonds, beckoning you. As you settle into the warm sand, tears prick at your eyes, blurring the horizon. Your thoughts drift like the tide, pulled between the world above and the world below.

Who are you, truly? A human by birth, yet your heart beats for the sea. You long to breathe its salty depths, to feel the cool caress of the water as you swim alongside Seokjin, to embark on treasure hunts with your oceanic friends. You miss them with an intensity that surprises you, a longing that feels more profound than anything you’ve ever known. The question of your true identity—human or mermaid—plagues you, an endless loop of uncertainty. Can you ever return to the life you’ve lost? The fear that you might never know gnaws at you, an unspoken dread that settles in your chest.

Existential questions swirl in your mind, a tempest of doubt and longing that refuses to quiet. The ache in your head intensifies, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within, the push and pull of two worlds tearing at you.

You sigh, tracing whimsical patterns in the sand with your fingertips, the soft grains a fleeting distraction from the storm inside. Memories of Seokjin flood your mind—his warmth, his kindness, the way his laughter wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. You recall the moment you fell in love with him, the spark that ignited when your eyes first met, a connection that felt ancient and unbreakable. Even when your own name was a mystery, when you were adrift in the haze of lost memories, Seokjin was your anchor, a beacon of safety and love. Now, that connection is a gaping void in your heart, an emptiness that no human life can fill.

Perhaps it was destiny that led you to fall into the sea that night, a twist of fate that drew you to the world where you truly belonged. Maybe you were always meant to be a mermaid, to be with Seokjin. The thought brings a fleeting comfort, like a whisper on the wind, before dissolving into another sigh. The questions remain, offering no solace, only more uncertainty. 

Resolutely, you rise, brushing the sand from your hands, the sun’s warmth a faint echo of the warmth you crave. You head back to the apartment, each step heavy with the weight of indecision. As you step inside, the familiar pang of emptiness hits you—it doesn’t feel like home. It never will. Seokjin was your home, and without him, you’re adrift, caught between two worlds and belonging to neither.

Soohee, determined to lift the shadows from your heart, insists on pulling you from the apartment where you’ve been brooding for what feels like an eternity. Reluctantly, you find yourself at your usual café, bathed in the silver glow of a full moon that hangs heavy in the night sky. Your friends chatter and laugh, their joy a distant melody, muffled as if trapped behind a glass wall that you can’t seem to break through. You sip your iced coffee mechanically, the cold seeping through the cup but not reaching the numbness that has settled in your soul.

Your gaze drifts out the window, unfocused, lost in a world of longing that only you can see. The sea calls to you, its siren song winding through your thoughts like a ribbon of silver and salt. The ache in your chest is almost unbearable—the yearning for the water, for the life you abandoned, for Seokjin, pulls at you with a force that’s impossible to ignore.

Suddenly, the lively chatter at your table falters, falling into an unexpected hush, but you remain adrift in your thoughts, lost in the waves of your mind. The voices around you blur into the background, until one breaks through, familiar and stirring, sending a shiver down your spine. That voice—smooth, warm, and unmistakably his—pulls you from your reverie.

You turn, and there he stands, Seokjin, his smile as bright and soft as the moonlight. He has legs now, and though he looks good like this, your heart aches for the mermaid form you fell in love with beneath the waves.

“Hi, babe,” he breathes, his voice thick with longing and the weight of everything left unsaid. Your heart swells at the sight of him, and you can feel the warmth of a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Hi, Jinnie,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, but laced with all the affection you’ve kept locked away.

Your friends exchange puzzled glances, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, the air thick with something extraordinary and inexplicable. You offer them a quick explanation, telling them that Seokjin is your boyfriend, though the truth is far more complex than any simple label could capture. Ignoring their confusion, you rise from your seat, your heart pounding as you cross the room to Seokjin, wrapping him in a tight embrace. The moment your head nestles into the crook of his neck, a profound sense of home washes over you, as if the pieces of your heart are finally falling back into place.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his hands gentle as they hold yours, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your skin, trying to mend the fractures he fears he’s caused.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, though your voice trembles with emotion. “Do you want to go back to my place and talk?” The words hang between you, fragile and full of hope.

When he nods, the relief that floods through you is overwhelming. You say goodbye to your friends with a wave, their bewildered faces fading into the background as you step out into the night, hand in hand with Seokjin, heading back to the apartment you share with Soohee.

The streets are quiet, the full moon casting a soft glow on the path before you. Seokjin’s hand steadies you, anchoring you as you walk through the dimly lit streets, each step bringing you closer to the conversation that will decide your fate. You don’t speak, save your words for when you can give him your full attention, when the night and the moon are the only witnesses to your truths.

It takes only five minutes to reach the apartment building, but each second feels both fleeting and eternal. Inside, the familiar ding of the elevator announces its arrival, and as the doors close around you, your eyes meet his, the silence between you pregnant with unspoken emotions. In that shared look, regret and longing intertwine, a silent apology passes between you.

As the elevator dings again, signaling your arrival on the seventh floor, you offer him a soft smile, your heart heavy with what’s to come. Leading him to the door, you unlock it, and as you step inside, you know that whatever happens next, this moment—this reunion—will be etched into your soul forever.

Both of you step inside, the weight of unspoken words thick in the air. Without exchanging a glance, you move to the kitchen, your movements slow, deliberate. You pour cold water into glasses, the sound of liquid filling the silence that stretches between you. Placing the glasses on the table, you join Seokjin on the couch. His eyes follow you, brimming with emotions that mirror your own—uncertainty, regret, and a longing for the connection that feels so fragile now. 

For a few moments, you’re both adrift in the quiet, your mind scrambling to find the right words, the perfect way to express your remorse. But before you can speak, Seokjin breaks the silence with a sigh, his breath shaky, followed by a soft, almost self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m so sorry, babe,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with sorrow.

A lump forms in your throat, and you nod, biting your lip as you fight back the tears threatening to spill. His eyes, usually so bright and full of warmth, now shimmer with regret. “I should have told you the truth,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “About your accident, about the fact that you were human... I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so, so sorry.”

His words cut through the tension, making your heart clench painfully. Instinctively, your hands reach out for his, seeking the reassurance and love that have always been your anchor. “I forgive you, Seokjin,” you breathe, your voice soft but steady, a tentative smile touching your lips as you rub gentle circles into his hands. “But I need to apologize too. I overreacted when I found out, and I’m sorry for that. I know you didn’t lie, but you did keep things from me. It was wrong, but… I understand why you did it.” You pause, truly grasping the weight of his decisions. “If I were in your position, I don’t know if I would have told everything right away either. I still wish you’d told me sooner,” you add with a dramatic sigh, a hint of playfulness creeping into your tone, “but it’s okay. I just want to move past this. I’ve missed you so much.”

Seokjin squeezes your hands, the gesture full of warmth and relief, bringing a genuine smile to your face. “I’m glad to hear that,” he exhales, as if he’s been holding his breath for an eternity. “I’ve missed you too. That’s why I came back. I needed to tell you that.”

He begins to rise from the couch, and a flicker of confusion crosses your face as you feel the emptiness left by his absence. “What are you doing?” you ask, your voice tinged with worry as you reach out for him, not ready to let go.

“I was going to leave,” he says softly, noticing the sadness clouding your eyes. “I’ve said what I needed to.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you plead, your hand grasping his as if anchoring him in place. “I have more to say. Please, sit down.” He hesitates for a moment, then nods, settling back onto the couch, his gaze fixed on you, waiting.

“I also wanted to thank you,” you continue, your voice trembling slightly as you shift closer to him, your thigh brushing against his. “Thank you for saving me… for loving me. I miss you, Seokjin. I miss my friends, I miss being a mermaid, and I’m afraid I’ve messed everything up. I don’t feel like I belong on land. Everything feels wrong here.”

Tears well up in your eyes, the weight of your emotions finally too much to hold back. Seokjin notices immediately, his fingers tenderly brushing away the tears before they can fall. “It’s okay, love,” he whispers, his voice soothing, filled with the warmth you’ve missed so desperately.

His hand travels to the nape of your neck, gently pulling you into him, your face finding solace in the familiar crook of his neck. You close your eyes, inhaling the comforting scent of him, a mix of saltwater and something uniquely Seokjin. As you rest there, your heart begins to mend, the broken pieces slowly coming together in the safety of his embrace.

He pulls you away gently, just enough to gaze into your eyes. His brown irises shimmer with a depth of emotion, like pearls nestled in the heart of a clam, radiating a love so pure it sends a warm twinge through your entire body. He leans in, and his lips find yours, tentative at first, a delicate reunion after what feels like an eternity apart. The kiss, soft and tender, soon deepens, growing fiery and urgent as his tongue teases for entrance, a silent plea that you eagerly grant.

His hand stays firm at the nape of your neck, keeping you anchored to him, while his fingers weave into your hair, tugging gently. The sensation pulls a needy, strangled sound from your throat—a sound that might have embarrassed you if you weren’t so utterly consumed by the desire coursing through your veins. You’ve missed him desperately, and you want him just as fiercely—want him in this way, as humans, experiencing something entirely new for the both of you. It’s a new experience for both of you. Though you’ve had your share of intimate moments before becoming a mermaid, and Seokjin has spent ample time on land, you’ve never been together like this. The thought sends your heart racing, your body warming with anticipation.

You kiss him again, your hands flying to his face, cupping his cheeks as you sigh into his mouth, savoring the closeness. When you finally pull apart, both of you are panting for breath. “I want you, Jinnie,” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of urgency and longing. Your fingers tug at the fabric of his shirt, your need palpable. “I want you like this, before you leave.”

There’s a desperation in your plea, a fear that this moment might slip away too quickly, leaving you aching with the uncertainty of when you might see him again. You sense his desire too, but the unspoken questions about the complexities of a human and merman relationship hover at the edge of your mind. Still, you push them aside, focusing on the one truth that matters now—you want him, here and now.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you silence him with another kiss, this one fervent, consuming. Whatever words he might have had are lost in the heat of the moment. Your hands move with a newfound urgency, pulling off his shirt in a swift motion. As it drops to the floor, you take a moment to drink in the sight of him, his chest strong and defined, reminiscent of his merman form, with broad shoulders that taper to a lean, narrow waist.

Your hands drift lower, unzipping his pants with a quick, determined motion. The bulge in his black boxers is unmistakable, and you stroke him through the fabric, drawing out needy sounds from deep within him that only spur your desire further. You lick your lips in anticipation, wondering what his dick looks like— if he’s thick, long? How he’ll feel, how he’ll fit.

Slipping your hands under the waistband, you grasp his cock, feeling it throb eagerly in your hand. A thrill runs through you at the sensation, the heat and the pulse of him. “Sit up so I can take these off you,” you murmur, your voice thick with desire as you tease the waistband. He complies without hesitation, lifting his hips to help you slide the garment off. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach, and your eyes widen in awe. He’s long, longer than anyone you’ve been with before, the reddened tip glistening with precum that makes your mouth water in anticipation.

You can’t wait to taste him, to feel him, to make this moment last as long as possible.

Your fingers wrap around his dick, feeling his heat, and the sound that escapes his lips—a desperate, trembling whine—sends a shiver of thrill through your entire being. That sound, so raw and vulnerable, makes you crave more, and you can’t help but tease him, pumping his cock slowly, savoring every reaction. His eyes flutter shut, his head tilting back as he succumbs to the pleasure you’re giving him, lost in the sensation.

Leaning in close, your breath hot against his flushed skin, you flick your tongue out, tasting the salty sweetness at the tip. His gasp is sharp, his hips bucking instinctively, and you revel in the power you hold in this moment. Each sound he makes is a symphony, a melody only the two of you can hear, each movement a testament to the electric connection that binds you together.

“Please,” he pants, his voice ragged and needy, “please give me more.”

The plea in his voice ignites a fire in you, and with a sultry glance, you let a bead of spit fall onto his cock, watching it glisten before lowering your mouth to take him in. You start slowly, your tongue tracing the intricate lines and ridges, teasing the sensitive head with gentle flicks. The salty bead of precum bursts on your tongue, fueling the desire burning in your core.

With deliberate slowness, you slide down, taking more of him into your mouth, knowing you can’t take all of him, but determined to give him as much as you can. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking in rhythm with the movement of your lips, your tongue swirling around him in a dance of pleasure. His moans fill the room, a chorus of need and desire, as you work him with practiced skill, sucking on him like a lollipop, hollowing your cheeks to create the perfect suction.

His hands cradle your cheeks, his touch gentle but insistent, and with a loud, wet pop, he pulls you off. His eyes, dark with lust, gaze down at you, his chest heaving. “You look so gorgeous like this,” he breathes, voice thick with longing, “but I really want to know how it feels to be inside you.”

A slow smile spreads across your face, matching the eagerness in his eyes. Together, you strip away the remaining barriers between you, clothes discarded in a careless heap on the floor. The air between you hums with anticipation, every touch, every glance charged with the hunger you both feel. He surprises you by gently pushing you down onto the couch, spreading your legs wide as he drinks in the sight of your glistening folds.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes lingering on you with adoration. “Let me taste you?”

Your breath catches in your throat as you nod, giving him permission. He wastes no time, his mouth descending on you with a hunger that makes your toes curl. His tongue moves with a skilled, silky precision, lapping at your folds, teasing your clit with just the right pressure. You moan his name, your fingers tangling in his chestnut hair, urging him to go deeper, to give you more.

His mouth is relentless, worshiping your body with every stroke, every lick, his own sounds of pleasure vibrating against your sensitive flesh. The sensations he’s creating make your body arch off the couch, your back bowing as the pleasure builds, spiraling higher and higher until it’s almost too much to bear.

His fingers find your nipples, pinching and rolling them in time with the rhythm of his tongue, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. And then, it happens—your body tenses, fingers clenching hard in his hair as you push yourself onto his face, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You ride the sensation, lost in the euphoria of release, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you come undone on his tongue.

He gazes up at you with boundless love, his eyes soft as he gives a few final, lingering licks, savoring every drop of you. When he finally moves up to kiss you, it’s deep and passionate, his body fitting perfectly between your legs. You can feel his hand, steady and sure, as he guides his throbbing cock, stroking it briefly before aligning it with your entrance. The anticipation makes your heart race, your body quivering with need as you wait for him to claim you, to make you his in every way.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing hum as he brushes the tip of his cock against your slick folds.

“God, yes,” you breathe, your words barely a whisper as your body aches with need, your pussy practically pleading to be filled. The anticipation coils tight within you, every nerve alight with longing.

With a deliberate slowness, he begins to push into you, his dick stretching you inch by inch. The sensation is exquisite, a blend of pleasure and sweet ache that leaves you gasping. When he finally bottoms out, buried deep inside, it’s as if he touches the very core of you, the stars bursting behind your eyelids.

“Move, please,” you grunt, the word coming out thick with desperation. You need more of him, all of him.

He responds to your plea, his hips beginning to roll with a steady rhythm, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure through your body. The sound of his hips meeting yours fills the room, a steady beat that matches the pounding of your heart. You shift, hoisting your legs higher, draping them over his broad shoulders. The new angle has him sinking even deeper into you, hitting that spot that makes your breath hitch and your toes curl. The way he kisses your cervix is nothing short of divine, a sensation that borders on the sublime.

He pants your name, the sound rich with need, his hands framing your face as his brows knit together in a beautiful display of focus and desire. He dips down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, and you groan into his mouth, feeling the intensity of his love and the depth of your connection in every movement.

When he rises again, his hands find your thighs, gripping them as he picks up speed, each thrust more insistent, more desperate, as he chases the edge. You feel your own climax building, the tension winding tight in your belly, and your hand drifts down between your legs, finding your clit and rubbing in time with his thrusts. Your breaths come faster, matching the rhythm of his, and as your pussy begins to pulse around him, the pleasure crests, sweeping through you like a tidal wave. You cry out his name, nails digging into his biceps as you ride the peak, your body trembling with the force of your release.

“Fuck,” he pants, his voice hoarse with pleasure, “I’m close… I’m gonna come.”

“Do it,” you beg, your voice ragged with need. “Come inside me, fill me up, please.”

With a stuttering groan, he releases, his warmth spilling into you as his body shudders with the force of his orgasm. His hair sticks to his damp forehead, his skin glistening with sweat, but he leans down to kiss you, his lips tender and sweet. You welcome the salty taste of him, the heat of his body, wanting to hold onto every bit of him, to memorize this moment.

After a few heartbeats, he gently pulls out of you, the loss of his presence making you feel momentarily hollow. He disappears into the bathroom, returning with a soft towel. His touch is careful and loving as he cleans you, the warmth of the cloth a gentle caress against your sensitive skin. The sweetness of his care, the way he looks at you with such tenderness, makes your heart ache, and a lump forms in your throat.

A few tears slip free, unbidden, and Seokjin pauses, his eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

You sniffle, trying to blink away the tears, but they keep coming. “I just… I miss you so much. This was incredible, but I don’t want you to go. I want to be with you every day. I wish I could be with you every day.”

The words break something loose inside you, and soon you’re crying in earnest, the sobs shaking your chest. Now you’re full-on crying. What a mess—crying after sex. You hope he doesn’t think he did anything wrong, because he truly didn’t.

“Hey,” he murmurs softly, pulling you close, your bodies still bare yet wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence. The cool night air brushes against your skin, but it’s his touch that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand finds your chin, lifting it gently so your eyes meet his. The uncertainty of when you’ll see him next weighs heavy, your lips trembling with unspoken fears. But his gaze, soft and filled with love, reassures you. 

“I wanted to tell you before,” he begins, his voice a tender caress, “you can become a mermaid again if you want. I just didn’t want to assume you’d want that.” His fingers trace your bottom lip, the touch like the brush of a feather, sending ripples of longing through you.

Become a mermaid again? 

The words ignite a spark of hope in your chest, warming you from the inside out.

“Really?” you whisper, your eyes glimmering with tears of joy and love, the possibility almost too beautiful to grasp.

“Yeah,” he nods, his own eyes bright with promise. “We just need to talk to the Sea Witch.”

“Can we go now?” you ask, your heart soaring like a gull over the waves.

He laughs softly, the sound a balm to your anxious heart. “Sure. But shouldn’t you say goodbye to your friends?”

You shake your head, the decision firm and resolute. “I’ll just leave them a note.” You know it’s not the most gracious farewell, but you feel no guilt. They searched for you for barely a day when you went overboard, their concern fleeting, unlike the depth of love you feel for Seokjin. 

Quickly, you dress, the mundane task filled with a sense of urgency, as if the moment might slip away if you don’t act fast. You find a piece of paper and scribble a brief note to Soohee, thanking her for her kindness and hospitality but explaining that you’re leaving to be with your boyfriend. You don’t mention anything about mermaids or the world beneath the sea; some things are too precious to share.

Hand in hand, you walk with Seokjin down to the beach, your heart beating vividly in your chest, each step a drumbeat of anticipation. Under the silvery light of the moon, you share a tender kiss, the world narrowing to just the two of you as you step into the water. The transformation is swift and mesmerizing—his legs give way to a stunning pink tail, shimmering like precious gemstones in the night.

You swim together, cutting through the water like you were born to it. Out in the open sea, far from the shore, he kisses you deeply, his lips salt-kissed and full of promise. “I’ll swim down and talk with the Sea Witch,” he whispers against your lips. “I’ll come back and tell you everything, okay?”

Time seems to stand still as you wait, the waves lapping gently around you, but it doesn’t feel long before his head breaks the surface again, a smile lighting up his face. 

“She said she can turn you back permanently if you want to,” he says, the words like music to your ears, “but the catch is you’ll never be able to revert to your human form again.”

You see a flicker of concern in his eyes, but for you, it’s a small price to pay. Your human life feels distant, like a dream you’ve already forgotten. The call of the sea, the promise of the life you once knew, is too strong to resist. With a resolute nod, you kiss him, the decision clear in your heart. “Please, tell her it’s fine. I just want to be a mermaid again.”

He nods, diving back into the depths, and moments later, the transformation begins. Your legs fuse together, your skin tingles as it turns to scales, and the familiar purple tail forms, glimmering under the water. Your clothes morph into a delicate seashell bra, and you swirl around, reveling in the change. With a burst of speed, you dive deep, almost colliding with Seokjin. You both burst into laughter, the sound bubbling up like joy itself.

“Hey, pretty,” he says, cupping your face and kissing you, his touch as tender as the first time.

“Hey, handsome,” you reply, the love swelling within you, making you feel lighter than the water around you.

You kiss him again, a kiss full of joy, relief, and the overwhelming sense of being exactly where you’re meant to be. The sea, with its ancient structures, hidden caves, and vibrant marine life, feels like home once more. Seokjin holds you close, your tails entwining in an intimate embrace as you swim together, fingers lacing, bodies moving in perfect harmony. 

In this underwater world, where the boundaries of the physical fade into the ethereal, your love transcends the ordinary, becoming something larger than life. Your heart floats, carried by the sea’s gentle current, pulling you ever closer to Seokjin. You open your eyes, meeting his hazel gaze, and in his smile, you see your entire world.

As you swirl around each other, the vibrant marine life fades into the background. Fish, other merfolk, dolphins, and whales pass by, their beauty paling in comparison to the magic of Seokjin’s embrace.

“I love you so much, Seokjin,” you whisper, your hands moving to rest over his bare chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“I love you so much too, babe,” he replies, his voice filled with emotion as he places his hand over your heart. With his other hand, he reveals a golden band with a shining pearl, its surface iridescent and familiar in the dim light. “Will you be mine forever?” he asks, his tone both tender and hopeful.

You smile, charmed by his romantic gesture. It’s the second time he’s proposed, understanding you lost the ring when you became human. The effort he put into finding it and presenting it to you again makes your heart swell with love.

“Of course,” you say, your voice filled with certainty. “I’ll be yours forever, and you’ll be mine.”

In that moment, you realize you need nothing else. With Seokjin by your side, true friends under the sea, and a supportive family, life is beautiful. You couldn’t ask for more. As you float in the embrace of the ocean, the vastness of the sea reflecting the endlessness of your love, you know you are home.

→ Taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @suker4angst → Disclaimer: the banner is obviously partly made with AI— I just want to point that out, to clear the air. I’d normally never use AI in my work, but for this specific fantasy series, I just came up really sort with making them myself with pre existing images of bangtan 😭 Because I want a certain aesthetic (no, a moodboard is not what I was looking for), I decided to use AI to crunch out the merman— I did not, and I repeat this, I did not write any of their names for the prompts, which is also why I do not want to show any faces in these banners, because I know how the guys feel about making AI with them, and I agree. Which is why, this is in short just generically made images that are prompted by a scene in the story. In the end, I still made the banner— did retouching, color grading, added and/or removed stuff, added background etc. Just to let you know. Normally, all my banners and graphics are made by me, unless otherwise stated! (lol, what I mean here is that I’m making them myself, I still sometimes use stock photos and vectors made by others in my work (the banners)). → Author’s note(2): I feel so shitty with my writing (not that I think it’s bad, it’s just ‘meh’). I wrote this weeks ago, but I’m only publishing it now… I’m feeling very unmotivated, so this whole mermaid series might take some time to get finished, but I’ll try my best to finish them all 🥹 what do you think? Excited for the rest of the members’ stories? 💜

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[megamindsecretlair]

Yall I can’t stop thinking bout Fontaine. Like quiet but nasty ass freak deek Fontaine. Who’s obsessed with his lil shy (secretly equally nasty) gf and her glasses.

Fontaine has a need to cum on her glasses literally anytime she gives him head.

It plays in his head every time she finds herself on her knees for him. But he’s too scared it’ll be too much for reader. Till one day (completely incidental) it happens

Corruption kink go brrrrrr. My mind ain’t took it no further than that quite yet but the fundamentals are set up 😭

Anyway ♥️ freak deek Fontaine 😩

A/N: I see ya'll with these asks! Forgive me for combining them.

You Already Know

Pairing: Fontaine x Glasses!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, fluff, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), nipple play, dirty talk, oral (male receiving) all consensual. Apologies to those with peanut allergies, lactose intolerant, or just don't like milk.

Summary: See asks.

Word Count: 2,974k

AO3 Link

A/N: John has got to STOP with all these workout vids and pics. He is TEWW fine. Please enjoy the brainrot with me!!!! Toss a coin to your blogger by commenting, reblogging, or leaving an unhinged ask.

“What you doin,’ baby?” Fontaine asked when he freshened up after being outside all day and night. He came home roughly twenty minutes ago, smelling like outside. He gave you a quick kiss and made a beeline to the shower because he knew that you liked him most when he smelled clean and fresh.

Silly man. You’d suck his dick even if he was filthy and outside all day. You’d bend over if he walked in the house, covered in God knew what, and told you to assume the position. You just weren’t always good at expressing that.

You looked up from the couch to see him standing in the doorway, leaning against his arm. He wore a black tank and black basketball shorts, tattoos on full display and his mouth gleaming with those gold grills you love so much. You sighed as you stared, taking in his physique and his stance. 

“Just watching a movie,” you said, fixing your glasses to get a better look at him. It was either smudges in the way or your body was starting to overheat looking at that hunk of man. It still blew your mind. You got to kiss and claim that man any time you wanted.

“What you watchin’? You hungry?” He asked. He straightened up and rubbed his stomach. He’d been hitting the gym a lot more lately, needing to bulk up to deal with his enemies out in the streets. Your one rule with him was that he always came home. No matter what he had to do. 

“I’m okay,” you said. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You had been sitting here, enjoying your day off doing absolutely fuckin’ nothing, and was perfectly fine. The minute Fontaine walked in, you’d had an entire ache in your lower belly.

“When’s the last time you ate?” He asked.

You hummed to yourself and then looked at the clock beneath the TV. You paused the movie, since you weren’t watching, and hummed some more.

“That’s too long. I’ma make us some sandwiches,” he said. 

You called after him but he was already heading down the hall to the kitchen. You heard the cabinets and drawers banging around as he went to work. What was it with men and sandwiches? You giggled and shook your head, trying to lay back down and still be comfortable with your glasses on. 

Maybe you ought to switch to contacts. Just once, you’d like to be able to lay on your side and still see the TV. You hummed and thought it over. Naw, Fontaine seemed completely against the idea of contacts. He liked your glasses and you happened to like them too. But still. 

A few minutes later, Fontaine came into the room carrying two plates with sandwiches and cups of milk. Well, yours could be classified as a sandwich. His was some kind of tower. He had multiple layers of peanut butter sticking out from between his bread slices. You shook your head at him as he placed the cups down on the wooden coffee table.

“Thank you, baby. I will never know where you put all that,” you said. You sat up on the couch and the blue and pink plaid throw blanket slid to your lap. You put your cold feet on the ground. Even after being under the covers all day, your feet were still icy. 

Fontaine leaned down and kissed your forehead, making you tingle all over. Then, he sat on the couch beside you and handed you your plate. Extra peanut butter, just as you liked it. You took a big bite and moaned at the taste. It’d been too long since you had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

“Right down the hatch, my love. What you watchin’?” He asked.

You told him you were watching Damsel on Netflix, told him who was in it, and a brief synopsis. “But what you feel like watching?” You asked. 

“Naw, put that on,” he said. He chewed and you watched the way his jaw flexed. Your boyfriend was so serious all the time. Oftentimes quiet. That was initially what drew you to him in the first place. So few men were quiet. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. Your man was more into Black cinema or action movies. Something like this, starring the little white girl from Stranger Things, was not on his list of must sees. 

“I’m sure. C’mon. I just wanna snuggle with my girl,” he said. He glanced at you and his eyes softened. 

You grinned, cheeks hurting with the effort. You bumped your shoulder to his and then kissed his massive shoulder. You took a tiny hint of his scent. Crisp mountain air. You also got to admire his body up close.

The absolutely disgusting, filthy, animalistic things you wanted to do to this man. He had no clue. Sadly, because you started stuttering and mumbling whenever you began thinking of all of your dirty fantasies. Let alone try to tell him about it so he could do those things to you.

“You know I always wanna snuggle with you. But we can turn it off whenever you want,” you said.

He took a huge bite out of his sandwich, already halfway done and you’d only taken a few bites. He licked his lips, licking away peanut butter that you desperately wanted to do for him. 

“Naw, how far you get?” He asked. He licked his thumb and used his clean fingers to toggle the remote and show the remaining time. You were only fifteen minutes into it. You kept pausing to listen to the shower, to see how long he was going to take. 

“You mind running it back?” He asked.

You shook your head and then lapsed into comfortable silence with your man. You started the movie over and scooted back on the couch.  

Fontaine finished his in about three bites, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He spread his arms around the arm and back of the couch, man spreading and bumping your knee with his. You finished your sandwich a lot slower, enjoying the feel of him next to you. 

Everywhere he touched, just lit up another dirty fantasy in your mind. Taking him in your mouth, taking him from behind. Or him tying you up and having his way with you. The possibilities were endless. 

You had to finish sometime, so you polished off the last bite and chased it with the rest of the milk. You smacked your lips and stretched. Fontaine grabbed your shoulders and you squeaked.

“Fontaine!” You said and tapped his arm. He chuckled and grabbed you anyway, pulling you to lay against him. 

“My bad, baby,” he said, sounding anything but sorry.

You pushed your glasses back up your nose and kissed his chin. He grinned and kissed your temple. You settled back against him, getting lost into the movie. Angela Bassett always looked damn good. Just radiant and glowing all the time. You admired seeing a Black woman in a fantasy gown, when Fontaine shifted.

Wordlessly, you followed his lead, standing up so that he could stretch out on the couch. He pulled you by the hand to lay next to him and you giggled softly. Once you were in front of him, you pulled the throw blanket over both of your legs. 

He shook out his right foot with a groan and then both you nudged and pushed until you were both comfortable. You focused back on the movie, loving how pretty it was. 

Throughout the movie, Fontaine was more into it than you were. He was asking you questions. He knew you didn’t like to spoil but you got a thrill whenever he was genuinely into your little movie. 

You sighed and adjusted yourself on the couch, pushing your ass into his dick. A low groan escaped him and he put his hand on your hip to keep you from moving. But you felt that bulge on your ass. You adjusted again, intentionally rubbing your ass. He groaned again, putting more strength behind his grip and stilling your movements.

“Alright, now,” he said.

You giggled and adjusted your glasses, adjusting yourself one more time. He started to growl and you giggled again. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” you said. 

Fontaine hummed and slipped his hand under your pajama shirt. This was something new he started a few months ago, randomly slipping his hand underneath and grabbing your titty like a stress ball or something. He tried to pull it away then but you told him to keep it there, testing the waters. 

Fontaine only kissed behind your ear and had been slipping his hand underneath ever since. Mostly it wasn’t sexual, he just liked warming his hand underneath your titties. But other times….like now…Fontaine’s fingers found your nipples and he began to play with them. Rolling them between his fingers. Pinching.

You bit your lip, biting back the lewd moan that wanted to escape your throat. Your pussy throbbed. Pulsating at each tug of his fingers. You adjusted against his crotch, rubbing your ass against him.

He moaned but otherwise made no other sound acknowledging what you were doing. He continued to tug and rub, making you clench your thighs and rub them together. He moved his lips to your ear, letting you hear his breathing. His quiet moans. That tiny whimper. 

The movie swam in your vision. You were having trouble relaxing with Fontaine’s hands on you. His large arms around you. The heaviness of him. Your essence leaked out of you thinking of him on top. 

You continued to dry hump on him. Way more than what was necessary. You whimpered yourself, rubbing your ass against his growing hardness. Fontaine rolled your earlobe into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. 

You whimpered more. Fontaine moved his fingers from your nipples, down your smooth stomach, and then slipped beneath your shorts and underwear. His fingers teased through your pussy lips, growling when he found you wet. 

The second his finger touched your clit, you finally moaned and pushed back into his dick. “Aw, my poor needy, baby,” he cooed in your ear. 

“‘Taine,” you moaned. 

“Watch the movie,” he said.

“I can’t,” you said.

“Watch the movie,” he said again, slowing his fingers. He dragged them lazily through your wet folds and you shivered in his touch.

You focused on the TV, focused on the middle of the movie where things were starting to look up for the main character. But Fontaine’s fingers were starting to pick up again, gathering up all your wet slick, making it echo in the tiny living room. 

Smacking noises grew louder as Fontaine played with your pussy. Your orgasm was always just out of reach. Every time you got close, when you started whimpering, grabbing hold of his wrist, he’d pull his fingers back and play with a different area.

Over and over, he got you close to the peak and then withdrew right before your orgasm took over. You were a whimpering mess, no longer caring about the damn movie. “‘Taine, please,” you moaned.

Fontaine stuck his thumb in your mouth, his massive arm coming around your neck and squeezing. You sucked and whimpered around his thumb, wrapping your lips and sucking hard like you wanted to do to his dick. 

Fontaine moved his fingers faster, harder, flicking against your clit with all your slickness. You were so wet. So loud. You whimpered and cried, opening your mouth further to moan and move your hips. 

“Look at that ass go,” Fontaine said in your ear. “You ain’t as innocent as you claim, huh?” He asked.

You nodded. You were innocent. But this mind of yours? Oh, it was always on demon time. You passed time thinking of sex with your man. Thinking of him bending you over in inappropriate places and threatening anybody that looked. You daydreamed of him pulling your hair while giving lethal backshots. 

He plunged his fingers into your pussy, pushing two deep. You cried out, but willingly accepted his fingers. “Oh, god,” you moaned while your orgasm rushed through you like a rapid river. You were a leaf, pulled along the current.

You whined and moaned, a crying, loud sound. You trapped his hand between your legs. Your body was out of your control, shaking and twitching. Fuck, you couldn’t even breathe. 

You sucked in air as you finally came down and your pussy stopped spasming. Your thighs relaxed and Fontaine slipped his fingers out with a deep hum. He made sure all five of his fingers grazed your sensitive clit on his way out. You twitched and moaned.

Fontaine’s chuckle was low and deep as he licked his fingers. “Get on them knees for me, baby,” he said.

You nodded. Not an ounce of strength in your body but you managed to slide off of the couch. Fontaine sat up and opened his legs on either side of you. You scooted in between, rubbing his thighs and biting your lips. 

“Fuck, you look sexy like this,” he said. He pulled his underwear off and slid them down his thighs. You didn’t want to wait that long. You leaned down and took his dick in your hands, wrapping it around his base.

He groaned and looked at you. “Do what you did yesterday,” he said and licked his lips. 

Your pussy clenched and you scooted closer. You got low to his tip and watched him as you kissed his tip. He bit his lip and moaned, jutting his hips out. 

You took him into your mouth and sucked on him like a lollipop. You slobbered and slurped it up, rolling your tongue around his tip. “Fuuuck,” he groaned. 

He kept moving his hands. Either they were clenched, or he was cracking his knuckles, or he crossed his arms. You watched his face, fighting to keep his eyes open. But also fighting something else? Was he okay?

You took his dick out and used your hands to get his shaft wet. “Are you okay?” You asked.

Fontaine nodded. “That mouth of yours,” he panted. 

You giggled. “You can put your hands on me, you know,” you said quietly, not quite looking at his face anymore.

“Are you sure?” He asked. 

You nodded, looking towards what you were doing to his dick. He stilled your hands. “Aye, look at me and use your words,” he demanded.

You looked at him. Looked at how serious he was. “Yes, I’m sure,” you said. 

Fontaine grinned. Now, isn’t that better?”

“You don’t have to be gentle with me all the time,” you said. 

Fontaine tilted his head. He moved his hand to caress your cheek. “Okay, but only if you tell me when I do something you don’t like,” he said. 

You nodded and grinned at him. “Then put that dick back in your mouth,” he said, tilting his head down and narrowing his eyes.

You squeaked and went back to work, slapping your lips with his dick. He groaned and moved his hips again. You spat on his dick and then sucked it back down, bobbing your head. You were done with teasing. You put your hands on his thighs for structure and then set a good pace.

Fontaine’s hands gripped your jaw and pulled you down faster, pushing his dick deeper. You slobbered on him, feeling it drip down your chin and hit your shirt. Pre-cum leaked into your mouth and you hummed at the salty taste of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it. Fuck, that’s good. Suck that shit,” he moaned. 

Your eyes were locked to each other as he used your mouth. As he pumped your head up and down on his long, thick dick. You moaned as he forgot to be gentle, slipped past some barrier in his mind, as he shoved your mouth down.

Your pussy throbbed painfully. Aching with emptiness as your mouth got to enjoy his dick. Your jaw hurt a little but you kept going, kept matching his energy. He hit the back of your throat and you almost gagged. He pulled your head back but his dick jumped at the sounds you were making. You spit on his dick, licked your lips, and then suckled him back down. You let him go with a wet pop and then started pumping him with your hand while you sucked one ball into your mouth. 

“I’m finna bust,” he groaned. You kept going, kept stroking him down so that when he was close, you could suck it down like usual. But he was already trying to slow you down. 

Fontaine moaned and came all over your face. Most of it got on your glasses and you shrieked in surprise. It was warm, splashing your face in random spots. On your forehead, probably in your hair, and on your chin. 

Fontaine’s moan was cut short as he panted. “Shit, I’m sorry!” 

You blinked at him, staring at him through the cum sliding down the frames. The closest drop was right at the corner of your mouth. The cum turned cold fast, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You stuck your tongue out and licked his cum from your face.

You moaned, trying to lick up more. Fontaine groaned and you turned back to him. You took off your glasses and threw it on the couch. You smiled sweetly at him as you cleaned up the cum on the tip of his dick.

“Clean it up real good,” he demanded, leaning back into the couch.

You nodded. “Yes, baby,” you said. You sucked him down and he groaned, his hands going back to your head and pushing you down on his dick.

 “Just wait ‘till it’s my turn, baby,” he said with a dark chuckle. 

The end.

You already know! The Secret Tyrone Files

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[chronically-ghosted]

vivarium

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: ezra x f!reader word count: 8K summary: you request a vacation for your birthday. With the rain and a few drinks, you get a lot more than you asked for.  warnings: alcohol drinking, minor age gap (less than 10 years), oral (f!receiving), fingering, smut, possessive!Ezra, dom!Ezra, one booty smack, dirty talk for real, smut, pining, a bit of angst, referenced/implied orphanhood, made a religious sex pun and i'm so proud of myself a/n: so @morallyinept requested this and it turns out when I write for a boy for the first time, it can’t be less than 7K – whoops. i've gotten ezra requests from some moots before, so i hope this lives up to your expectations! **massive thanks to @toomanytookas for editing and providing the initial validation so i don't post in a mouth-frothy haze. I've never had a beta like you before and I genuinely feel like I've turned over a new chapter in my fic writing. thank you!

🤍Masterlist 🤍 Ezra Masterlist 🤍 AO3 Link

💜come see what else we've done to celebrate 1K followers

Your feet in the clear blue water, the humidity like a wet tongue on your skin, you scratch a nail under the tab of a mustard yellow can, crack it open, and drink. The bite of alcohol dulled by the carbonation, you take several pulls, drawing out the mid-afternoon buzz from two other cans and whetting your mouth in the heat of the jungle day. You lean back on your elbows into the sponge-soft grass, and let out a massive sigh. 

A few feet ahead of you, on a repurposed inflatable reentry tube, your long-time privateer partner chuckles, the sound deep in the back of his throat as he floats by. Thick fingers and exposed heels dragging along in the crystal water, he greets the yellow sun like an old friend – arms wide, chest out, a lazy smile on his face. A damp rag – supposedly clean – sits over what you know to be dark-earth eyes, every other inch of him relishing in the inevitable sun tan. 

“I see your aaahhh, pet, and I raise you a mhmm.” The rubber squeaks as he adjusts, tips his scarred chin up to the cloudless sky and rests his head back. “Kevva said there’d be days like this, but I think the old hag mighta left out a thing or two.” 

You grin, the wet heat of Banu 8’s lowlands drawing sweat droplets onto your hairline at the back of your neck, settling thick behind your ears where it co-mingles with the drunk haze loping around in your brain. You watch Ezra with his bare arms, hairy legs, and prominent nose turned towards the divinity he’s so fond of invoking and the thought crosses your mind – again:

Shit, he’s so fucking hot. 

Oh, bad thought.

You drop your gaze, pressing the cold aluminum lip of the can to your mouth, drinking quicker than you probably should, anything to distract you from your partner as he obliviously floats by. 

For our sake, you silently beg the hungry little creature that whines and snaps at the image of a shirtless Ezra, please fuck off. 

While Ezra whistles a vaguely familiar tune, terribly off-key, you scoop up the cool lagoon water and dribble it over your hot knees, then your thighs, dampening the rims of your make-shift shorts just enough to cool them without leaving them vulnerable to a permanent state of moisture due to the high humidity. You flick the last drops of the water onto your chest, your white cotton bra choked to your skin. A final effect, you press the cool can to the thrumming pulse on your neck, closing your eyes with a relieved grunt, taking the time to enjoy the sensation of the cold metal against the rapid beat in your throat. 

From the water, you hear an unsettled grunt and you open your eyes to find that same shirtless Ezra staring at you, the rag now curled in one hand against the rubber float. He swallows, looks at something past your ear, and again tries to adjust in the sticky rubber float without flipping himself over, his hands falling into his lap. 

“Neptune, dear, would you do us the favor of tossing over one of those cans? I’m parched. I think my lovely skin is drying out.”

Neptune. His favorite nickname for you. You never got any real explanation from him as to why you got that name, other than after you’d officially joined his crew, you told him you came from a blue planet in a far off system. But that was often the way of things: Ezra did something and you didn’t question why. From that simple truth, you learned about how to repair and rebuild the entire electrical system from a drop pod. You learned, in excruciating detail, the parts and mechanics of a thrower, so much so that you could almost identify the model number at a glance. You learned about which corporate dig sites to avoid, which made for easy marks, and which would draw the eye and ire of entities hardly worth the trouble. 

Being out on your own since you aged up out of the orphanage had not gone the way you hoped and life had not been so kind as to teach you any other way to survive. Ezra had found you in the back of a red spice market, cornered and slurping down the last few of your credits from a muck bowl that you had vastly overpaid for.

For whatever reason, he offered you a job on the spot, despite you having nothing to offer him. and no experience in anything except cleaning prophylaxiams and staying out of the way.

And yet, he has been far kinder than life, or anyone else, had ever been to you. 

As a result, loyalty was only a fraction of what you felt for him. What had begun as overwhelming adoration had grown hot to the touch, slippery between your fingers at night, and perhaps – what you feared most of all – obvious. 

Yet when Ezra looked at you with a smile on his face, it was only comradery he wished to share with you, certainly not his bed. He shared it with practically every other bi-pedal humanoid you came across, but not you. And this you had to accept. And you did. 

But being a little drunk made it that much harder to remember where to keep your hands to avoid being burned.

“Sure, Ez.” You tuck your legs out from the cool water and dig around in the canvas bag at the base of the white nut tree. Most of the ice had melted into the bright green grass around the lagoon, but a few of the cans were still cold. You’d probably tease Ezra later for skimping on the insulation bucket the provisions store the port offered, but he had been so eager to get to the camp ground after spending an “exceedingly exorbitant amount of time stacked up against human drivel on public transportation”. One lopsided grin, and you’d give him the world. 

“Ez–,”

He lifts the rag, glancing at you over his shoulder, hands cupped as the can flies through the air. The cold metal presses against the overheated skin on his chest and he hisses. Eyeing the can ruefully, he cracks it open and drinks deep. You busy yourself with sliding to the edge of the pool again to keep from watching his throat move. 

Ezra finally pulls back, smacking his lips, with a pleased groan. He wets the rag again and dramatically flops it over his eyes. Hidden from his view, you watch the roll of water down his temples, his neck, his chest. 

“Name anything better than this, Neptune, I beg you. Free from obligation or assignment on commission. Where my only moral imperative is to drink as many of these as I can and remind you how beautiful you are. Which . . .” he tilts the bottom of the can towards you, head still tilted back on the raft and dripping rag covering his vision, “fantastic, by the way.” 

Having stifled your blush while under his watchful gaze about three or four other times today, without him looking, you flush so hard and fast you go lightheaded. Beautiful, he said. You drink more carbonated alcohol to choke back your rising heart, your eyes skim over the curve of his nose, a drop of sweat as it peaks on his forehead. You can’t linger over him too long; he has a six-sense about you – unable to know what you’re thinking but that you’re overthinking all the same. 

“Was this worth the trip on public transportation, Ez?” Your ankles stir the water again. 

“I could do this all day,” he sighs contently, bringing a warm smile to your face. “And definitely all night.”

Maybe you’ll both be so sun-drunk later tonight, you’ll fall asleep together on the pallet on the floor. Of course, by nightfall, someone will have to come to their senses and you’ll be tucked back into your separate sleeping bags, but maybe, as a present you couldn’t possibly ask for, you can just nap together.

With the bottom plush of your lip stuck between your teeth, you rim the metallic edge of your can with your nail, ankles spinning slow circles in the water. 

“Thank you, Ezra,” you say quietly, “for the best birthday I’ve ever had.” 

It began as a sort of joke one night on the volcanic hotspring moon of Wulkan after a twelve hour shift hunting through the black ash in search of fire pearls. The job was rather rushed, and Ezra had his reservations going into it, but fire pearls were a near certainty and you both needed a boost after a jump exchange had gone a little cockeyed. Sweat dripping from his temples, the provided water packs in the harvest suits doing just enough to keep him from passing out from heat exhaustion, he extended the skein of hydro-electric towards you across the narrow lane between your cots and asked you if you could be anywhere right now, any system, where would you be.

“Somewhere so cold I freeze my tits clean off,” you said with a sigh and wiped your own sweat-drenched forehead. You could smell yourself after two days of sweating profusely, but your stench in comparison to the rest of the crew, including Ezra, barely registered any more. You took a sip as Ezra laughed.

“A grievous crime against humanity and all its luscious gifts, but I get your meaning. Anywhere else?”

“Water.” This was said with more conviction, so much so it turned Ezra’s head towards you. “The few memories I have of my home planet and my parents, we were always near or in water. An ocean, maybe. I’m not sure. But I remember being really, really happy and I think being near water . . . it would make me happy again.”

You handed the skein back to Ezra, something unreadable in his gaze. He took it back from you, his fingers dark from the ash that clings to everything. On the other side of the tent, the rest of your crew and other teams mill about, yelling, with cutlery clattering as the camp gets ready to slow for the night, a graveyard shift picking up in just a few hours. 

Ezra’s eyes are as dark as the ash you’ve been shifting through the past two days.

“Then you shall have it, Neptune.” He said, quietly. “I’d give you the fucking galaxy if I could.” 

Those words often came to you in the crevice between sleep and wakefulness, when your mind was idle and the reins that tightly bound your affection for him loosened without a conscious grip. When you thought you weren’t being watched. 

The flat of his foot hooking behind your ankle breaks you from your reverie. Cast into shadow by the wide, rubbery palm leaves above your head, he looks at you curiously. 

“That look of deep consternation is giving me a headache. Spill.” 

With a faint smile, you gently bump his knee with your own. “Nothing, Ez. I’m just glad we get to take a break from it all. I can’t remember the last time I . . . the last time we’ve just had nothing to do.” 

He cocks his head as his gaze crawls up your ankle, your shin, to your knee. You think it might linger on your thigh before it bounces to your face. You tighten your grip on the hot, expansive feeling behind your ribs and stare back at him.

“Then that’s a black mark against me, as the leader of this clan.” His mouth curls, eyebrow arching as he talks, knowing that statement has been a point of playful contention between you two for years. “A good overseer knows when to crack the bullwhip and when to let it rest.”

“Well, a better overseer knows when to demand that her team rests, because sometimes they have no idea what’s good for them.” 

His foot rotates behind your ankle, his toes brushing against your calf, bringing your attention to your own body part in the water. Your legs are hairy, nearly as much as Ezra’s, and you haven’t shaved your pits in possibly a decade. Ezra once brought home a professional nightwalker, one from the Upper City, to the derelict flat you’d been sharing for two weeks as you offloaded your haul to the under markets. You never forgot how smooth her skin had been, shaved clean and smelling of moon lilies. That scent permeated the small space for weeks afterward. Even now, just the sight of moon lilies makes you nauseous. 

His aversion to you runs much deeper than physical aesthetics, even if you can’t help but wonder sometimes if becoming as smooth and hairless as the nightwalker might change his mind.

“Observational to a fault as always, Neptune.” The ball of his foot rests briefly between your legs before he pushes off from the spongy lip of the lagoon’s edge. He floats back into the sun, his head shaking slightly, a smile drained of amusement on his lips. He inhales as the sun crests over his forehead and he glances up at the blue sky. “I have no idea what’s good for me.”

Something about his tone, the way he turns away from you, scratches a very raw place inside of you – a place that fears and obsesses over abandonment. You wouldn’t survive it if he abandoned you, if he left you to fend for yourself one day. Logically, you know he would never do that – he has sworn up and down to your face that that notion is fundamentally ludicrous to him – but the anguish of him silently rejecting you from his bed again and again and again makes that fragile place inside you bleed red. 

You stand up, swipe another can from the bag, and move towards the waterfall. 

“I’m taking a hike.”

You feel his eyes on the backs of your thighs as you march towards the gentle incline.

“Be safe, Neptune,” he calls softly.

For a fleeting second, you wish he had made you stay.

The first fat raindrop splashes against your cheek and wakes you from a humid, irritated nap. You’re scowling by the time you open your eyes to several more wet droplets as they splatter against your neck, your forehead and you sit up, even more frustrated than when you fell asleep. The last sticky tendrils of dreams snap and pop as you pull yourself onto your feet, back hunched and arm held high against the steamy sprinkle. A crack of lightning, then a growl of thunder, and the sky splits open, drenching you in seconds. With a snarl of your own, you snatch up the empty can from the grass next to you and make for your camp down the hill. As you crest the top, you see a figure standing outside the tent, back tense and hand raised as if searching through the twilight gray downpour. 

Normally, the thought of warming up beside Ezra in your yellow tent fills you with something inexplicable, the grime and load of the day melting from your shoulders, but your buzz from earlier has thickened, made worse by the heat, the emotions in your heart all gummed up and smashed together. The sight of him cranks up your irritation high in your ears. With a huff, you concentrate on a smooth slide down the hill without breaking your ankles and not the fire rising in your gut. 

But the rain and the distance apart has only stoked his own outrage.

“Where the hell were you?” He snaps as you yank back the velcroed tent flap. He is dripping from head to toe in jungle rain as he follows closely behind you into your small space. You ring the water from your hair into a corner and scowl up at him. 

“I fell asleep. The rain woke me up. I came back as soon as I could.” 

His eyes narrow, water rolling off his bare shoulders as if he still stood out in the downpour. The droplets pat pat pat against the tarp floor as he snatches up a fiber towel and dries himself off, scowling all the while. 

“I searched for you, calling your name up and down this fuckin’ jungle and I didn’t hear a peep. What if something had gone wrong? What if you’d been hurt?”

“Then I would have fucking dealt with it, Ezra.” You stomp to your feet, neck hot from his patronizing gaze. Hands on his hips, you feel like you’re being scolded. “I can take care of myself.” 

One dark eyebrow arches mockingly, the scar on his cheek twisting in his scowl.

“And you expect me to lay about, twiddling my thumbs, while I wait for you to return or until you deem it appropriate for me to fret over your corpse?” 

That patch of blonde hair is a shade darker, drenched and pressed flat against his forehead. His bare chest is littered with scars and divots where chunks of flesh had been torn away. His skin is a reflection of the hard life he lives. You doubt you’d look any different if you’d seen yourself in a mirror. 

“We are partners, Ez,” you grind out between locked teeth. “Equals, alright? I am not your little sister for you to fuss over and you are not my keeper.” 

At that, the indignant swell of his chest deflates and the anger in his eyes flickers before fading out. 

“You are beyond capture,” he mutters, eyebrows down but gaze distant. “I’d never dream of keeping you, Neptune.” 

Again, it’s his phrasing that hurts most of all. You glance away, the backs of your eyes growing hot and tight, drying out despite the sticky moisture warming the inside of the tent. But then his hand around your elbow startles away the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. 

“You are the most important thing to me in the entirety of this world and the next,” he says softly, earth eyes searching your face. “I came on too strong, I know that, but the idea that you’d ever be gone from my side for any amount of permanence . . . well, it’s been a lifetime since I’ve felt fear like that.” 

His frown goes belly-up, a hopeless smile on his face. “I wasn’t aware I even still could.” His calloused thumb brushes your skin, skin that nearly catches fire from the rough drag of scar tissue, before he lets his hand drop. Your own curls into a fist at your side, a tremor rattling the bones of your wrist in an effort to keep from reaching up and touching that moon-shaped scar you dream about at night.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ez. You taught me enough to survive in a world like this. But you’re going to have to trust me.”

That smile goes wan, sickly. “That’s the problem, dear heart, I trust you with my life.” 

He swallows, as if suddenly bashful to make direct eye contact with you. He clears his throat before rummaging around in his canvas bag for dry clothes. He yanks a black, sleeveless shirt on over his head before setting up the materials for a flameless pocket fire. 

“Since my dreams of showing you something called a barbeque have been quite literally rained out, we’ll finish off the rest of the dredge pack tonight. But come first light, I’ll fix you breakfast so succulent, the smell alone’ll make your mouth water. How does that sound, Neptune?”

He barely slows to breathe as he seamlessly switches topics from breakfast to another meal made at camp without looking up or stalling in his prep for dinner, hands almost disconnected from the humming of his mouth – one so methodical, the other like a channel rat on fire. 

“– and the thing was no one was really sure enough what a squatter egg looked like when it goes bad. But being out in a cramped hold-out for two weeks where it was so dark, your own ass and someone else’s had no demarcation, well, there wasn’t a single peep of dissimilitude . . .”

Words strung together so quick and so melodic, it was always incredibly easy to fall into a sort of easy trance around Ezra. Sounds and syllables just sounded right coming out of his mouth and after a while, that trance became a state of repose, Ezra’s own sense of calm filtered to whoever was also in the room. But not to you, not right now.

After spending immeasurable time with less than half a space between you in cramped tents and in claustrophobic dig sites, you could read the tension on the lines of his body as well as the lines on the palm of your hand. 

“Neptune? You with me?”

Ezra glances up at you, always aware of you and your movements like the twinge on a spider’s web, a signature smile that has always seemed to shine a bit brighter for you plastered over his face. The anger was the only thing holding you up and with it gone, you can feel your bruised heart twinge as it folds over itself. 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’m gonna switch out of these wet clothes before we eat, okay?”

He hums, nodding, eyes fixating on the steadily boiling water in front of him as you turn away to the other side of the tent, by your pallet and traveler’s pack. As further evidence that he feels nothing but companionship for you, you feel his eyes remain nowhere near you as you strip off your shorts and bra for a sun-warm suit. Then again, you’d like to think it’s kind of scandalous to be changing in front of him, but you’d both seen each other naked more times than you could count – there is no modesty in foxholes. The space between your hips and your thighs feel sticky from sweat and the slick rain, the curve of your spine warm and flushed. The zipper is loud in the silence. 

You’re braiding your damp hair away from your face when he sighs and the noise makes you look back at him.

“Answer me honestly, if you’ve ever cared for me a tick. Do you regret it?”

His eyes are sorrowful, worried, brow fixed down. Ezra is not, and never has been, a man prone to melancholy. His wrists rest loosely over his knees, gaze deep in the bubbling bone broth. The rain outside taps insistently at the tarp. 

“Regret what?” 

“Coming with me and taking on this life. It’s not an easy one,” he says quietly. “I should have offered you another choice, that day in the market. But one look at you and I . . . I was willing to trust you with my life, Neptune – far, far too soon. Even at my best, you make me irrational.”

You watch him, his broad shoulders moving, as he scoops up the hot, dark liquid into two bowls, and joins you by the entrance to the tent. You pin back the flap as he settles, the scent of humid rain immediately flooding your mouth, the pattering sound now twice as loud. Wordlessly, he hands you a spoon before digging into his own bowl. 

The heat of the soup burns away all the silly, impossible things sitting on your tongue. You sit in silence, his presence never rushing you to answer before you are ready. As you eat, you stare out at the dark lagoon, where you had both been only hours ago, the clear water murky beneath the downpour. 

“No, Ezra, I don’t regret it.” He stills, as if surprised you’re answering him now, mid-meal. He lowers the bowl to his lap, eyes trained on you. “You saved my life, more times than I can count.” 

Your words loosen the rigid lock of his shoulders. He grins. “As you’ve said, you would have been just fine without me.”

Your vision goes blurry. You pin him with such a stare, you watch the blood rush from his face.

“But it would have been only half a life.”

“Don’t kid about that, Neptune, it’s not –,”

“I’m serious.” You put your bowl down and rub your eyes with your sleeves. Of all the ways he hasd seen you bare and naked, he’s never seen you this vulnerable. “I don’t wanna do any of this without you. I want you, Ezra.”

“You have me, dear heart, you have me.”

“Not like that and you know it.” You watch as understanding rolls across his face. His lips part, eyes wider. He swallows and you stare at the ceiling, cheeks suddenly wet and hot. He said he’d never leave you, but what if this is the thing that finally does it? Could he work with you, knowing just how deeply you love him, and not feel an ounce of disgust? “You told me once sex is just a way to pass the time, but never, not once, have you ever even tried to pass the time with me.” 

He swallows, deeper this time, jaw locked, his eyes fluttering with the force of it. He brings his knees to his chest.

“Because it wouldn’t just be passing time with you.” 

In that moment, you’re grateful for the rain, for the sound of something to fill the silence. 

You stare at him, cross-legged in front of the open corner of this yellow tent, abandoned bowls growing colder, but he sits with his leg up, knee to his chest, as if to ward you off. Ward off whatever is growing in your gaze, under the flat bone over your heart in your chest. But whatever is stifling the air in your lungs, is warming his eyes past the point of comfort, barrelling towards expletives and the crass, the lewd and depraved. You cannot go back to having him look at you any other way. 

That look loosens every line in his face when you crawl into his lap, your knees around his hips. The backs of your thighs go damp, even through the suit, pressing down onto his still-damp shorts, and you think his breathing has quickened.

His massive palm hovers near your cheek, unwilling or unable to pull you forward or push you back, his oak eyes searching your face for signs of discomfort as if he had somehow dragged you across the tarp floor. 

“Neptune,” he mumbles as he focuses on the curve of your bottom lip, “this is unwise. You don’t know what you’re asking for.” 

You can feel the hard curve of his shoulders as you follow the lines of his arms and settle them on his collarbone. Nothing has happened that can’t be undone – not yet. Your perfect, vicious Ezra hasn’t pressed you flat on your back like you thought he would at the hint of sex. You could return with your dignity tomorrow morning, this moment never spoken of again, and he’d let you have that. The shake of his elbow with his palm against the tarp is the only indication that something might be unsettling to him. 

But it is your birthday after all. Maybe he’d let you have this one thing. He doesn’t know you’ll die without it.

“If you don’t want this . . . if you don’t want m-me, then say something. Push me away and I’ll never bring it up again.” You cup the sides of his neck as your hips shift forward, closer to him. The air in your lungs tightens, breath coming in shallow pants. Only then does he drop your gaze and fixate on your encroaching heat. “At least then I’ll know.” 

There. Out loud. It’s been said, heard above the deluge of rain against the tent and the jungle outside. 

His palm finally settles on your cheek. It brings a sense of wholeness to you like you’ve never known. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, a breathy exhale pours out of your mouth. His thumb catches the plush curve of your bottom lip and he draws it towards your chin, his own mouth open, enraptured. 

“Sweet thing, how have you not always known?” 

His mouth is humid against yours, as if he swallowed the jungle while looking for you, his thumb releasing your lip to capture with his own. The tip of his pointer finger massages the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear, and he manipulates your head until your mouth parts like he wants.

His tongue skims your upper lip, a tentative exploration into the unknown rewarded with a low groan that is warmed by the heat coiling low in your hips. You taste his tongue, a hot glide inside your mouth, and you feel his arms slip around your lower back, his inhale of breath sharp across your face as he brings you closer. He bites your lips roughly, the spark of pain and pleasure crackling across your face as if you’d brushed a live wire. 

His fingers wrap around your wrist, prying you from the back of his neck, just for a moment, his eyes heat-soaked. You suck your teeth, mouth open and seeking, and the hand around your jaw drops to your collarbone, the breadth of his palm nearly suffocating your throat.

The briefest pressure – the slightest touch – at the pulse at the bottom of your neck and your hips rock forward into him as he flattens his other palm to your ass, clutching you to him and pinning you to the pallet.

His teeth scrape against the curve of your ear, pinching the cartilage between his incisors, while his hands frantically search up and down your waist. His weight smothers you, his stomach breathing into yours, the flat plane of his chest rubbing your nipples raw against your suit, an unfocused lurch to his hips every time you tug on his hair. With every breath, every time you try to savor his touch, the taste of his mouth is like a wave, dragging you forward, wrapping a dizzy chain around your throat and squeezing.

Ezra’s greatest weapon has always been his mouth, that silver string spinning faster the longer he captivates you, spell-bound. Now he uses to decimate you in entirely new ways. 

The suck of his lips against the moist flesh below your ear distantly distracts from the afterburn of his unkempt beard against your jaw, your cheek. His lips alternate patterns of reward with a plush kiss and punishment with a stern nip when you try and stifle a moan. The edge of his shirt is damp from resting against his shorts when you slip your fingers underneath to palm the small of his back. He stills when you run your fingers around to the front of his trunks. 

His hand curls around a clump of hair at the base of your skull, his eyes darker than volcanic ash. The steady heat of his groin against your thigh is a sensation you’ll chase for the rest of your life.

“You know what happens when you touch a man there, Neptune?” He’s breathing hard, you both are, and the way he snags your hair in his fist has your head twisted at an odd angle, but you’d be damned to a Kevva-forgotten corner of the cosmos before you drop his gaze. You nod and that moon-shaped scar on his cheek twitches. “I know I didn’t teach you that.”

“L-learned it – somewhere else – Ezra.” Your mouth isn’t working properly, your lips swollen from his kisses, the slight pain in your scalp making it difficult to focus, while your cunt tightens hungrily. “Had to.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because you wouldn’t give it to me.” 

He leans back, his forearm tense and corded where he has you by the hair, a seemingly disinterested scowl on his face. But by the throbbing length pressed up against you, so far from where you need him the most, he is anything but. 

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” Without breaking eye contact, his chest raised inches above yours, his fingers snag on the blue zipper by your collar and your breathing nearly stops. He hums to himself, eyes following the path of the zipper as the material separates, click by click by click. When it reaches your belly button, he stops. 

“Ezra –,” it’s a whine and you can’t even chastise yourself for it. And neither, it seems, can he. 

Head tilted as if curious about the label of a box beneath colorful wrapping, he dips his wide hand beneath the edge of your suit. The heat that radiates from his palm against the curve of your stomach has you writhing underneath him, your knees drawing up to his hips, trying to catch any relief. 

But he takes his self-satisfied time. Callouses of a hard-won life snag and drag over the soft paper-thin skin that covers your ribs as he maps you in one hand. When he cups your right breast in his palm, the noise you make is a sob of gratitude. 

“You let another man besides me do this to you?” 

The snarling pit of your own thoughts slows as some awareness realizes he’s speaking to you. 

You swallow, clutching his bicep, begging for forgiveness before even opening your mouth to answer. 

“It didn’t mean anything, Ez, it wasn’t you – it meant nothing to me–,”

“But you let someone else touch what’s mine, hm?” That lazy, slightly irritated look on his face, he rotates his hand, squeezing the cup of your tit again, before sharply pinching your nipple. 

“Ezra–,” you choke out and his thigh shifts between your legs, just close enough to feel the heat but nowhere near close enough to grind against. His thumb rotates the raised flesh slow enough to capture and catalog every sigh it draws from you, his eyes catching between his hand and your relaxed face. 

He wears the same expression he does when sitting in the backs of blackmarket tea shops and smoky alebins. When the prospect of striking gold becomes all he can think about.

“Strip.” He suddenly commands. He lifts off you just enough for you to wrench your arm through the armhole, all the while keeping a rough palm on one breast, and then the other. You watch him massage your flesh and your ribs tremble with an unsteady breath. Only when a slightly cool breeze meanders over your bare shoulders and chest do you realize that the tent flap is still open, your head inches from the edge. A perfect and unimpeded view to anyone who wants to watch him hungrily grope your tits. Embarrassment peaks sharply, despite his hand pressing you into the tarp, you wrench your neck back and look over your shoulder through the window of the open tent as if you need to confirm that you are giving the jungle a floor show.

“Ez– shit, the flap–,” 

He finds that the skin beneath your breast had grown sticky and slick from sweat, the humidity still oppressive even with a breeze. He bends his head and licks that same sweaty path and your attention snaps back to him, nails curling against his scalp, his warm breath a high-intensity balm to your roughly-played-with nipples. 

“Not a soul in sight, Neptune,” he murmurs lazily into your ribcage, his nose running up and down the valley between your tits. “And if there were, let them learn a thing or two.” 

His teeth nip the swell of your stomach as he crawls down your half-naked body. Without his heat and hands, the tenderness from his attention on your breasts ratchets up to an ache, a minor preoccupation before he hooks his fingers around the rest of the jumpsuit and tugs. 

You are naked beneath him, swollen chest rising and falling, your knuckles scraping against the pallet as you search for something to grip with all your might. You smell of lagoon water and hot jungle air, of muggy photosynthesis and algae. The smoky scent of the black ash of that distant planet never really left Ezra and the dampness of the rain seems to stir it up. He towers over you, dark and breathing heavy. Smoke and brimstone.

He gropes your ankles, then your calves, hands gliding over the thick hair there – now grown soft in length – as he slowly spreads your legs, with a light you’d never seen before in his eyes. 

“Neptune, I revolve around you.” 

A wave of anxiety lurches up your throat when he brings his mouth to your cunt, the cloying, imagined scent of moon lilies threatening to tear you out of the moment – he won’t want you wild like this – but it’s forcefully yanked back down with a single stripe of his tongue. His previously casual, authoritative persona cracks when he buries his face into your unkempt curls and lets out a deep, overly pleased moan.

Your back bends and he’s gathering up your limbs in his arms to pin them down, nearly resting his forehead on your pubic bone. A few more licks, some deeper than others into where you drip for him, and your thighs start to shake. His fingers around your thighs squeeze roughly against your flesh and pull you further apart. 

Between the flush of slick seeping from you at an embarrassing rate and the wiry hair kept natural out of a certainty no one would see it, he must be drowning or choking, his tongue flicking and sliding, nose prodding your clit just enough to spread the sparks of arousal up through your spine. Feeling as though you’re losing your grip on reality, you sink your hands into his hair, thumb rubbing back that blonde patch, and tug. The moan he shoots into your cunt as he rocks forward into your touch has you whining helplessly. The tarp squeaks where he rubs his hips into it. 

His arms curled around your thighs, your hips shake with restraint against every lap of his tongue until he flicks your clit and your hips grind up against his obliging mouth, a sunspot of pleasure flaring brightly. But all too soon, Ezra lifts up onto his elbows, his hands smoothing across your stomach and he pops his mouth up from your wet folds. With an irate gasp, the swell of bliss fading, your gaze snaps down to plead with him, but he shakes his head.

Wordlessly, he takes one hand from your thigh and wipes his mouth clean with a swipe of his fingers. Then, with his eyes wide, the skin around his mouth loose, he crooks two fingers at the top of your mound before sliding them down where his mouth was seconds ago and presses them inside of you. That simmering in your low belly roars back to life and you toss your head against the unforgiving pallet, eyes slamming shut. He growls at the obscene sucking noise your cunt makes as he plucks at you, in and out. 

“Oleaginous,” he hums, so quietly, it might have been for him. He tongues your clit lightly, pushing his fingers as deep as they can go, watching you thrash. “Mine. Understand?” You remember that tone of voice from when he had you dissecting throwers on a workbench in front of him. You nod, eyes fluttering open, balancing on the precarious edge of release. 

You want to obey his every word. 

His thumb twists up, opening your clit to him and within a whispered breath of “good girl” he sucks your bundle of nerves and launches you into orbit. 

Your entire body goes stiff from the force of it, only to crash back down into his waiting hands, your voice wavering on a high-pitched, girlish wail that shrieks above the sound of rain. Waves of bliss lap at every nerve ending and your vision goes fuzzy for a minute, the only sound you can register is the pounding of your blood in your ears.

And then you register the steady, wet plunge of his fingers still dragging in and out of your pussy.

“Was that mine?” 

Your clit tingles from overstimulation, but you’d rather die than have him stop – you want to answer, if only you could pick up the pieces of your voice. You can only nod, whining. He presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, the skin there smeared with your release.

“You did a bad thing, letting someone else touch what’s mine.” He scolds, rubs that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back in your head, holds his finger to it until it burns. You cry, his punishment evident. “Now you have to apologize, Neptune.” 

You nod again, mouth wrenched open as he drags you back and forth across pleasure and pain. 

“Y-y-yes, Ezra,” the words are bone dry, cracked between your teeth. “I’m sorry.” 

Pure wickedness strikes those earth eyes and scorches them a singed black. 

“Unfortunately, atonement is a fickle thing,” Ezra tuts, dragging his lips across your thigh in a mockery of a kiss, “and I’m not quite ready to offer absolution. Despite your offerings,” he wipes his mouth with a stroke of his palm, “this godhead remains rigid.” 

You whimper. He grins with a mouthful of teeth.

Ezra pulls back onto his knees and shuts your thighs, his hand palming your ass as he indicates that you should turn. Your entire lower half still feels like jelly – no one has ever made you come that hard with just their mouth before – but you obey. You stagger onto your hands and knees in front of him. 

His wide palm appears beneath your chin.

“Spit.”

You do.

That spit-wet hand cups your still wet cunt, middle finger rubbing briefly against your clit, before it disappears. You feel him move closer, hear his slick hand pump himself a few times with a grunt. Hot lips drag up your spine, interspersed with the nip of teeth, and when he lays across your back, his hands overtaking yours and threading your fingers together, his bare chest presses up against the skin of your back and you shudder. 

He noses your temple, his throbbing cock coated between your folds. He bites at your jaw and follows your line of sight through the open tent flap. 

“Breathtaking, isn’t it? All that moisture, dripping and running over smooth rock and fern. All that heat coagulating in spaces it shouldn’t fit. All that . . . open field, for anyone to just wander into. Take a look around and smell the air. Could they smell you like I can, Neptune? The way you leak for this cock?”

As he hums filth in your ear, his hand settles again at the base of your throat, thick fingers squeezing just enough to threaten, before sliding down to your swinging breasts, rough palms catching your swollen nipples, then arching down your stomach and between your legs. 

He plays slowly with your clit; barely enough stimulation and he knows it.

“Ask for forgiveness.” He croons in your ear. The breeze returns for a moment, and between the heat of him mounting you like a feral animal and the hesitant touch of outside air against your sweaty chest, you shudder with a groan. 

“I’m sorry, Ezra. I’m so–,” his middle finger increases its pressure slightly and the words shatter in your mouth, “sor-ry.” 

“And for what?”

He continues to rub between your folds and the minute hitch in his breath is more intoxicating than anything he’s done so far. This is affecting him just as much as it does you. He kisses your jaw then tugs on the skin with his teeth. 

“For letting a-anyone but you t-touch me.”

Ezra presses his damp forehead into your shoulder, panting, your correct answers soaking the neurons in his brain. Your reward is the faster stroke of his finger. 

“And why was that a reprehensible thing to do?” His hips rut into yours, the scrape and rub of his cock between your slick lips and thighs almost enough to set you off. 

“Because it’s yours – I’m yours – f-fuck, Ezra, I’m yours, I only wanna be yours,” you sob. 

He’s suddenly gone from above you and the loud crack of his hand against your ass cheek deafens you for a minute, the sting skittering up your back and down your thigh. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your elbows shudder, the weight of his tone, his hand nearly forcing you onto your chest with your ass still in the air. You wanna be so good for him. 

He’s breathing hard and his skin is warm and damp where you feel his thigh press against the back of yours. There’s a measure of restraint he’s showing and it makes your heart pound in anticipation. You swing your hips back at him, as if you could catch yourself on his cock. 

“I wanna show you I’m yours,” you cry, nails curling into the pallet. “Please, Ezra, please!”

His broad hand settling on your spine draws a hiccup out of you, a sob. 

“Breathe . . . Good girls get what they need.” 

On an exhale, his blunt tip spreads you apart and he shuffles closer as he thickens inside you. His loud, unabashed moan overwhelms yours, when you think you might just be devoured by him. His hand, the one at your hip, squeezes you, silent reassurance. You can feel the knuckles on his other hand against your slick lips as he feeds himself into you.

“Neptune, talk to me. How,” your cunt tightens around his girth at the sound of his voice coaching you along and he grunts, as if suddenly dizzy, “h-how do you feel?”

“Amazing, Ez. Please keep going don’t stop I can take it–,” 

He obliges; something’s reconnected the wires in his brain enough to tell him to move. He huffs before sinking deeper and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out and waits again, letting you both catch your breath. 

“Spent a hundred moons thinking about this.” The puff of breath against your shoulder is the only warning you have before he presses his mouth to your skin. His hand free of your clutch, his thumb softly rubs the muscle of your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, wherever he finds bare flesh. “Would wake up in the night, with you a few feet from me, looking like divinity made sin, made real, but I wasn’t worthy to touch you. You got me all tongue-tied, Neptune, all mucked up in the head. A silly boy,” he purrs.

You glance over your shoulder, unsure which Ezra is going to meet your eyes, but wanting all of them. The man you feel most safe with in this world and the next greets you and you reach back and squeeze his hand. He chuckles softly, and with it, comes a gentle roll of his hips. You gasp, airily, your gaze slipping from his face to his chest, to the steady breathing in his stomach, and then to the growth of hair that fades as it reaches up his low belly. How many times did you sit across the room from him with your fists in tight balls, watching as he regaled exploits of riches and wonder, all the while thinking about how thick his cock is outlined in his suit – you’re so blinded by breathy dreams of what the musky scent of his cock must taste like that you miss that he’s pulled out farther, halfway now, and you are completely knocked senseless when he thrusts back in, a beat faster. 

“Later, Neptune. I’ll let you suck my cock later, but right now I’ve gotta ride this pussy to oblivion.” 

Your thighs quake at his promise, cunt squeezing him, and he huffs, picking up speed.

“I felt that. You really like sucking cock that much?” 

All you can answer him with is a whine. Your knees are starting to ache from the barest cushion the tarp provides, the palms of your hands sore, but you can’t find it in you to remotely care. With every stroke, he fills you up to a breaking point before riding you back out. Moaning gratefully, you finally drop onto your elbows, your cheek scraping against the pallet with every forceful thrust behind you. He tilts your hips up higher, on one knee to fuck down into you; he’s searching with his cock for that spot that made your brain numb. 

Like a flood, you feel bliss roll down your spine, his hands on your lower back pulling you up another peak, and you gasp, at the edge of a very, very long drop, the sounds in the tent as sticky and wet as the rain outside.

But Ezra’s sounds are loudest of them all. Grunting. Hissing. Moaning like he’s fucking the best pussy of his life. You open one eye, glancing over your shoulder and the sight drops open your mouth. Hips pumping forward, skin dewy with sweat, he breathes like a freshly broken-in stallion, relieved that something finally bested him. Chest full and tight with muscle, flushed pink with roaring blood. Stomach torqued with tension. His rhythm is caught between his hands pulling you onto him and his cock thrusting into you. A frantic beat that bounces wet and hot, mouth agape and eyes rolling shut, his head drops back between his shoulders. You push back slightly and he stutters, the hand on your hip tightening. 

“Not gonna last, Neptune–” he grits, his jaw locked tight. The image of him actively staving off an orgasm for you to finish first has been imprinted on your brain for the rest of your life. 

“J-just a little harder, Ez.” 

He obeys, submitting as you had for him, sweat curling around his neck and down his chest. 

As release barrels down on you, those mahogany eyes catch and hold yours in a second that lasts through infinity. They promise you things that you didn’t know you asked for, those eyes, made vows only your soul could hear. You see, in that instant before you are swallowed whole, that he’d die at your feet, if you asked him to. He’d give up every worldly treasure he won through grit and his teeth if you needed it or wanted it. If it made you happy.

His Neptune – in the crushing grip of your gravity. Willingly caught in the trail of your comet as you fill up his night sky.    

“Yeah, that’s it, right there – Ez-ra!” 

His face blown out in near ecclesial bliss is the last thing you see before your vision goes white. Your heart pounds in your ears so loudly, it's the only thing that exists for an instant. And then you shatter with a perfectly soft cry, bliss breaking across you like a heavy wave, and you succumb to exhaustion. 

Behind you, he groans, fucking you faster through it, snarling something entirely incomprehensible. 

You think you might say his name, you don’t know what your mouth is doing, but whatever you say, it breaks him and you are dragged through another low shock, the flood of cum deep into your achy cunt enough to contract your walls again, his harsh groan stuffing your ears just as full. 

The rain is barely louder than your desperate attempts to breathe. 

The tarp crackles as you slump forward onto your stomach, Ezra dropping to his side with half his body over yours. Panting raggedly, his hand curls up to the base of your neck, a reassurance of his presence and commitment when words have failed him. 

You lay like that for a long time.

And then, when feeling starts to return to your limbs, you turn your head, your nose rubbing against his. When you breathe hotly across his face, he grins a satisfied grin that splits into a chuckle. You laugh with him too, curling up into his chest, his forearm is sticky across your spine, and he kisses your forehead.

Staring up at the tarp, together you listen to the rain. 

In the long drawn out, buzzy silence, his nails scratch the base of your skull. And then, like he remembered something vital, he picks his head up and looks at you.

“Do you want this to change things for us?” 

“Yes.” You cup the muscles of his thick neck. “Yes, Ezra. I want this to change everything between us. Please.” 

He smiles, unguarded and open. 

“Wild horses never stood a chance . . . especially against these tits.” He nips at the swell of your breast and you laugh. “I had no plans of letting you go in any case . . . but we are bound from this day forward. You know that, don’t you?”

You nod. A stroke of heat passes over his eyes and  Ezra leans forward to kiss you, his hand on your cheek pulling you in close, as close as you can be, two sticky bodies, cum-dried and tingling.

“And if we’re going to spend every year of our lives together, I have a question for you.” he pushes away a stray strand of hair stuck to your face, nose tip to nose tip, “did you have a good birthday, Neptune? Are you satisfied?”

With a giggle that has his eyebrow arching playfully, you kiss his cheek.

“I already told you. This was the best birthday I’ve ever had.” 

+

[battlekidx2]

I'm making this post purely to shout out some incredibly talented fanfic writers from the Hazbin Hotel fandom and my favorite works of theirs.

Did anyone ask me for this? No. Will I post it anyway? Absolutely. The writers in this fandom are too good.

The first fanfic writer I want to shout out is @prince-liest (ao3 link)

I absolutely love their get cared for idiot (Alastor) series (not the official name but they called it that in one of their asks jokingly so it's now the default in my head).

Knock, Knock! It's Your Worst Fucking Nightmare! (this fic gets it!!!! This is what I meant when I said Alastor is growing a heart and part of him is raging against it. He still has ulterior motives and a massive amount of pride and part of him feels like that growing fondness is getting in the way, but he can't stop it. I need to stop before this becomes a long ramble. I've written a couple thousand words on this idea, but this fic is just a better use of your time than any meta I could ever write and way more entertaining :D )

Happily Ever After, and Other Shit Nepotism Can't Buy

The Last Bus Stop in Hell, Now Boarding (Please look at the tags for content warning. Angel and Alastor body swap story.)

They're amazing at balancing on that razor's edge with Alastor where there's a heart in there (really deep) and he's unintentionally growing attached to the hazbin crew, but he doesn't lose his edge. He's still manipulative and an asshole and can easily be the scariest guy in any room. He's in hell for a reason. A+ characterization at all times.

They're so good at writing the complicated dynamics he has with the residents, especially Charlie, and I enjoy how they expand on Alastor's potential dynamic with Angel Dust.

Anything they write from Lucifer's POV is gold too! My favorites are:

Take Two and Leave a Voicemail!

The Care and Keeping of Homo Angelus

I am also 100% here for their Aro!Alastor agenda and I'm enjoying their fic I Love Her, I Love Her Not so far!

The second person I want to shout out is @grayintogreen (ao3 link)

Their series Red Roses and Dead Things consistently gut punches me.

Just like Princeliest, they are also fantastic at balancing on that razor's edge with Alastor. A+ characterization for everyone and I love how they write HuskerDust. It's so soft, especially in the aftermath fic for Learn that Even Death May Die called If My Love Is Tomorrow, I've Forgotten Yesterday (that fic hurt in the best way).

The way they explore the aftermath of Learn that Even Death May Die is incredibly impactful. They capture the unique grief that comes from the reality that there are some things you won't get closure for so well that it's painful.

I can't say enough good things about their series. Genuinely go read it.

I found @lediz-watches (ao3 link) before the first season of Hazbin Hotel dropped (I've been a fan of the hellaverse for a few years now and have been enthralled with the Hazbin Hotel pilot since I first watched it in 2020) and I really enjoy their fics.

My favorite is Suffering Kindness. I love the Charlie and Alastor dynamic they explore in this story. I think I'm just a sucker for the Charlie and Alastor dynamic in general, but this fic hits all the right notes for me. (written pre-season 1 but man is it good. 100% recommend)

LeDiz also has a lot of one-shots/collections of one-shots that are very fun.

The Cure for Inexorable Boredom

Dollface (one-shots about Alastor theories. My favorite is the 3rd one. So fascinating!)

Choice Words (one of the few explorations of Alastor and Vaggie's dynamic that I've found in the fandom)

Don't Say It

I have to shout out @ckret2 (ao3 link) and their phenomenal fic You’ve Got a Face for Radio. This is such an amazing aroace!Alastor fic. (Embarrassingly it was this fic that made me realize I was most likely aroace myself. I’d had fleeting moments of suspecting it but it wasn’t until I saw my experiences laid out in a character explicitly written to be aroace that I put the puzzle pieces together. -_- some of these passages were too relatable.) I cannot express how much I love this fic.

I also like their fics Dumpster Baby and Bitter Grapes.

I have one last writer I want to mention because this is getting really long (whoops). The last one is tiredoflofteranditsshit and their Assume He Has a Heart series (because my favorite character and how I interpret them was not obvious enough already with the fics/authors I've recommended. I had to make it more obvious).

These fics are massive (17k and 26k words) and so much fun. Definitely worth the read. Yet another series that follows up season 1 and explores Alastor’s growing connections and how he lies to himself and pushes against it. Love this series and there’s a lot to sink your teeth into :D

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter one}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: Bared teeth and instincts are all you have to defend yourself while out beyond the walls of the zone. And sometimes, you have Joel Miller, though he's just as apt to turn on you as anyone else.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, sexual proposition, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, references to injuries, blood, one (1) instance of joel miller bashing someone's head in, gun use, gun violence, reader chokes someone out, reader is snarky, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: this is different by far than anything else i've written and shared. dark joel miller content tends to be so controversial sometimes but i've been wanting to explore this part of his character for quite a while. the reader insert is also far more...robust than any i've written but it's all so exciting! please lemme know what y'all think?

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The tracks are faint, you’re barely able to make them out yourself as you crouch low to the ground and move your hand in the direction they look like they’re headed in.

“Hey, you missed somethin’.”

“The hell you talking about, there ain’t nothin’ to miss.” He’s suddenly hovering over you, his own footfalls silent despite the pain you know he carries in his back and the swagger he has to adapt to not irritate it. He’s shining his flashlight on the imprint you had managed to find among all the dirt and rubble, a barely there scrape in the dirt that could be mistaken for anything. His voice is harsh, degrading in tone as he scoffs at your find. “You didn’t find shit, stop trying to make somethin’ outta nothin’.”

“Yeah and I suppose the marks that look about the same depth and span out in an even trail heading north ain’t shit either, huh?” You ignore the heat of his legs clad in faded and dirt smeared denim far too close for comfort. It would be easy to brush against them if you turned just slightly. Straitening back up to your full height, you don’t step back as you aim your own light over the similar marks that lead down a narrow path between the scattered and broken bricks. “It’s someone’s staggered gait, would bet they twisted their ankle or knee and it’s dragging enough to leave ‘em behind for us. Need to trust the younger pair of eyes we’ve got out here.”

“Don’t mean it’s our guy.” Joel doesn’t budge, ignoring the double whammy insult, head turning back at the hush of wind sweeping between the crumbling buildings. He turns his light off, securing it between his belt and waistband on the back of his hip. You know he knows there’s some truth to your words with how he ignores them. A habit of his you picked up, silence in the wake of begrudging agreement. Never voiced lest someone overhear that he had his moments of amenable tendencies, even if they were very rare and far between.

“Could be.” You insist, you knew what you were doing. You knew how to get the damn job done and if he heeded your words even once, he would realize it could make the situation go a whole lot smoother than it had been. But of course he doesn’t, he’s as stubborn as you are. Something you loathe about the man who had become one of your partners. It was hard to trust him when he didn’t trust you, constantly at odds with the gruff way he insisted he knew better. It was beginning to get on your nerves, the days harder when you had to interact with him in such close proximity.

“Could be isn’t good enough.”

“Do you need a blowjob or something?” You turn slightly to face him, his strong profile highlighted by the dark golden hues of the setting sun.

“Excuse me?" He pinned you with a dark glare, not taking kindly to your question. He’s chest to chest with you now, hard expression aimed down at you as you don’t move an inch. You wouldn’t back down, never had before and wouldn’t now. He may be intimidating, but you were too in your own ways. Hell, the first encounter you had with the man ended up with your knife at his throat and your knee over his crotch.

Him and Tess had been in your apartment, staking out the smuggling ‘competition’ once they had arrived in the Boston zone. Coming home from a rather painful migraine after shoveling ashes of deceased people had been one of the highlights of the day, if such a thing could even be considered that, only to find two strange people rummaging around through your things. Joel hadn’t been prepared for you to turn on him first, thinking he had hidden himself well in the shadow of your door and following it as you slowly closed it behind you.

A warning shot fired off at Tess had her scrambling behind the beat-up couch in the middle of the room while you turned on him. Only after demanding answers from them and getting them from the woman as she crouched behind the furniture, had you backed down from a stoic Joel.  

“You heard me. You're pent up and snapping at everyone, need some relief?" Tilting your chin up, you meet his dark gaze head on, smirk pulling your lips up on one side. His eyes dilate just the slightest bit before narrowing, but you caught it and he knows you did. His voice is the deepest you’ve ever heard as he slowly responds with only one syllable.

“No."

"I think you do. Don't think I haven't seen the way your eyes drag down my body when you're walking behind me.” A bold statement, but a true one nonetheless. His eyes were a heavy and heady weight whenever they did exactly what you taunted. The thrill of the older man merely looking at you when he thought you wouldn’t see it perked up your self-esteem in a way you weren’t completely immune to, even in the shambles of what the world had turned into.

"Delusional. you're a delusional little-“

"I’m not a little girl, and you damn well know that." You punch the tip of your pointer finger into his chest, the dirty denim warm from his body heat. He’s a big man with a big reputation and it’s hard not to feel powerful as you obviously found one of the weak spots of his soft underbelly. An attack dog, a guard dog, a rabid dog, they all had one thing in common. They were only as strongest as their weakest point.

And you think you just found his.

The mischief of the unexpected discovery must glint in your eyes because his brows furrow impossibly deeper. The frown lines around his mouth pulling his thick mustache down, though it does nothing to shield the pale pink of his full lips.

He scoffs again, a harsh sound from the depths of his chest. Smacking your hand away from him, he takes off to follow the trail he can see a little better now that you’ve pointed it out.

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Act like you’re hot shit around the zone, only reason people don’t mess with you is cause of me.”

“I was doin’ just fine on my own. Remind me again, who staked out who to scope out the competition?”

“Wouldn't let you touch me if I was at the end of a barrel, and it was my saving grace."

“Fuck off, Miller.” You spit back, unable to rise to his taunt even as you fall in line beside him. That one stung, you had to admit. It was your own stupid fault, for finding him so attractive. From his dark hair threaded with silver to the way he carried a lifetime on his shoulders.

But his attitude muddied it, he was no better than a lot of the men you had run into before reuniting with your brother. The end of the world bringing out the worst in people, just like you had never one to sling insults so harshly or tease people easily a decade older than yourself who could snap your neck with a well-placed grip. Just like you assumed the man Joel had been before all this wouldn’t have even dared to think of talking to a woman with such spite and malice, if his faded accent told you more than he ever would.

The trail ends just at the shattered glass of what was once a revolving door entrance to a skyscraper looms ahead. There’s fresh blood splatter and the bag of supplies stolen from where they had been hidden for you and Joel to pick up. Two shells from a gun lay on the ground beside it, and you quickly grip your handgun to survey the area for the culprit who fired the shots.

Joel holds up two fingers, your attention going to him almost instinctively as he motions for you to crouch and round the left side of what remains of the door and into the building after the drops of blood. His eyes are focused, his full lips a hard line as he nods once to make sure you understand him.

Only looking away once you return the gesture. He turns so his back is to yours and makes sure there’s enough coverage for you both with his own gun at the ready. As quietly as you can manage with what’s still hopefully inside the pack, you pick it up with your free hand and avoid as much glass as possible.

No shots ring out, no bullets lodge themselves into your shoulder or Joel’s, everything is eerily still as you both move in tandem to seek the protection of the building. It seems to be blocked off inside, large pieces of plywood secured over the doors that had once been for elevators. The emergency exit off the right barricaded with all the furniture that once filled the ground floor waiting area.

“Fuckin’ told you it was a trail.” You mumble as the conflict seems to be over, the body of the man who had taken off with your hidden pack behind the front desk. Fresh blood seeping from a gunshot wound to his neck and the bandage wrapped thick around his ankle. You don’t flinch when Joel brushes past you harshly to stomp the bottom of his worn boots into the man’s head or the sick crunch that echoes slightly in the open space. Ensuring he doesn’t turn if he had been infected.

He rounds on you quickly enough to stir your instincts, the fleeting fear of him doing the same to you flaring up and making you take a half step back at the fierce look in his eye. The words he practically growls at you making your heart stutter painfully in your chest, suddenly breathless at the combination.

“Would you shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you? Tired of hearing that shrill voice all the god damn time.”

You huff, trying to play off the fear as indifference, shoving the bag of supplies at him. He doesn’t move to catch it, allowing it to hit him square in the chest, the pills and bullets contained inside rattling as the entire thing fell to the ground with a thunk.

Joel could only watch as you stalked off without another word, shoulders tense and hands shoved deep in the pockets of your jacket. He had seen the dilation of your eyes, the way your chest had risen with a quick inhale at his intensity. He had scared you.

That was new and he wasn’t sure if he liked it any better than you teasing him about being uptight and needing a little bit of pleasure in his life. An unpleasant lump rises in his throat and he tries to swallow it down.

Frowning, he bends to pick up the fallen pack, shoving it into his own nearly empty one before following after you. The silence that had fallen allows him to pick up the faint sound of labored breathing. But it isn’t coming from you up ahead.

It must’ve registered as a third person in the same instant for you because you’re turning to him with a finger pressed to your lips as you crouch behind a chunk of blasted concrete, gun already in hand. He mirrors you, reflections of each other as you each move around the barrier and take an assessing peak around respective corners.

Another man is laid out a few yards away, upper body slumped heavily on against the tire of a rusted car.

He’s barely alive, his breath rattling in his chest at a timbre that could only signal his impending death. A stark sound he recalls from a time long ago, both painfully fresh and numbed by years of oppression. He blinks the sound away, eyes closed for barely a second before you’re closing the distance with quick and quiet movements. A lunging dog at the sight of a threat. Constantly poised to take out anything that challenged the life you clung to.

It’s a reminder of why he willingly works with you, the way your smaller hands close around the man’s neck and clench. Shoulders displaying the strength you possess even with rationed food and improper amenities for life. If he wasn’t on your side, you would turn those same hands on him without a second thought. You had the first time you had met, when he had willingly gone into the den you had created for yourself in search of answers. In search of the name people gave when asked about who had the most knowledge on how to sneak out of the zone he now resides in.

He watches as you pick the man’s corpse clean, ration cards going in your pocket that he doesn’t think to demand a fair share of. Of the gun you hold out to him in silent offer.

No words are exchanged as you lead him back to the perimeter of the zone as the sun dips completely below the horizon. Moonlight illuminating your body effortlessly slinking and squeezing into places you had picked out that would allow for him to do the same with little trouble. You knew the operations of the zone, hell you probably were the reason some of them were orchestrated the way they were. The fear he had seen in you may have been fleeting, a response that allowed you to recognize the threat he could pose to you as well, but the way he admired your will to survive was not.

You only stay at his side long enough to relay the run to Tess, who had stayed behind and worked to ensure an alibi for you both. Signing your names and hers with one of the soldiers who traded with you on the roster in a perfect imitation of keeping up appearances for the demanded duties of all that reside in the zone. The ration cards slid into your back pocket are handed off to the older woman, no words or sounds coming from you before you slink out the door to their shared excuse of an apartment and down the hall to yours.

But he knew better than to think it was with wounded pride and your tail tucked between your legs, because he could hear the way you moved about your own space through the thin walls as if it had just been another day. Tess is watching him as his head tilts where he slumps on the couch, ears following the shuffle of your steps and the sound of clinking as you go about your own business. When he turns to meet her gaze, it’s unreadable but she doesn’t ask the reason for his short run down of what happened or the silence you had fallen into.

next chapter

taglist: @sawymredfox @tuquoquebrute @orcasoul @itsokbbygrl @keylimebeag

@n7cje @hiddenbabynyc @ameagrice @everythingiwanttoread @furiousmushroom

@vivian-pascal @76bookworm76 @dugiioh @jellybeanxc @littlemisspascal

@undercoverpena @janaispunk @jessthebaker @persephone-girl

@corazondebeskar @harryscum @morgaussy @burntheedges @pascalpvnk @cavillscurls

[slut4thebroken]

Stress Relief

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Cillian Murphy x reader

Summary | Holidays with your family are hard, but Cillian makes it a little more bearable.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, large age gap (unspecified), fluffy ish smut, oral (kind of), praise, a lil degradation, kissing, fingering, I need him to talk me through it 😭

Words | 3.6 k

Notes | Pretend I posted this 2 months ago💀🤫 Also wow- first /not/ dark smut in a while I think skdhdk

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

With a heavy sigh, you flopped down onto the bed as he looked through his luggage. 

“Just a few more days.” You said through a breath. 

“Let’s get you changed, yeah?” You grunted out an acknowledgement, keeping your eyes closed and not moving. You heard him chuckle, then your shoes were being taken off. “I can’t tell if I make things better or worse by being here.” 

“Better. Definitely better.” You sighed and he unbuttoned your pants before pulling them down your legs. 

“I’m not sure they like me very much though.” He was saying it like a joke, but you knew he didn’t like the fact that most of your family disapproved. 

“I don’t care.” You muttered. When he pulled your torso to slip your sweater off, you whined in displeasure. He dressed you in your sleep shirt, then lifted you to carry you over to your side of the bed and lay you back down. If your family saw this, they’d probably understand. But he’s always been a perfect gentleman— polite, kind, respectful. You didn’t get why his age overshadowed all of that. When your eyes fluttered open, you turned your head to the side to watch him change into his pajamas, then he was pulling the covers back and joining you. 

“Thank you for being here.” You said softly, turning on your side to face him. He gave you a warm smile and brushed your hair away from your face. 

“I just hate seeing how stressed you get.” He murmured, gaze trailing all over your face. 

“You help a lot. More than you know.” You returned the smile and placed a hand on his arm. He stared at you for a moment, then reached behind himself to turn off the lamp. 

“C’mere.” He said quietly, pulling you into him. He placed a gentle kiss on your head and you buried your blushing face in his chest, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. After a while, he started trailing one hand up and down your arm, relaxing you even more. That is… until his hand started straying to your hip. 

“Not here.” You whispered. It took every ounce of self restraint you had to gently bat his hand away, but he was undeterred. 

“You can be quiet.” His hand was gripping your hip now, teasing the fabric of your underwear. 

“Cillian, you can literally hear everything in this house.” As if to emphasize your point, you heard a cough come from one of the rooms. 

“Then don’t make any noise, baby.” He pushed you onto your back and started kissing the side of your neck as his warm hand rubbed your stomach, beneath the shirt. You let out a pleased sigh and tilted your head to give him more room, making him chuckle quietly. He suddenly moved his hand down, beneath your underwear, and swiped his fingers through your slit. 

“Christ.” He whispered, making you whine from embarrassment, but he quickly shushed you, reminding you to be quiet. 

“Cillian.” You said through a breath. You brought a hand up to grip his bicep, but you didn’t try to pull him away. His fingers rubbed slow circles over your clit and he gently nipped at your neck. You wanted nothing more than for him to suck the skin into his mouth, mark you as his… but you knew that would only make things worse between him and your family. When you whined quietly, he seemed to pick up on what you were thinking because he pushed your shirt up your body to kiss your chest, leaving a few marks. 

His free hand suddenly covering your mouth almost made you moan, but his fingers slipping inside was what actually made the sound come out. He pressed down harder, trying to muffle your sounds even more. You breathed heavily through your nose as he slowly curled his fingers inside you. Scrunching your brows, you stared at him with wide eyes and shook your head beneath his hand. 

“Let me be your stress relief, baby.” He whispered, starting to move his fingers a little faster now. You whimpered quietly, his words and actions making you melt. 

Your hips were squirming against his hand now, trying to get more from what he was giving you. He leaned back down and softly kissed your jaw, then worked his way down your neck, stopping just below your ear. 

“Can you be quiet?” He whispered, breath fanning your ear, and you nodded even though you didn’t believe it. The second he removed his hand, his face was going back into your chest, this time paying attention to your breasts. Your breath caught in your throat and you brought your hands up to his hair when he sucked your nipple into his mouth. 

“Cillian..” You whispered, hips grinding against his hand. 

“Shh, baby. No sounds.” He said softly, barely pulling away enough to speak. Once he deemed your nipple hard enough, he moved to the other one to give it the same treatment. “Good girl.” That made you whine and pull harder on his hair. You bit your lip until it hurt, trying to keep the sounds in. But when his fingers sped up and the heel of his hand started stimulating your clit, you knew you couldn’t do it. 

“I can’t— I can’t.. fuck.” You whispered, squeezing your eyes shut and putting all of your focus into staying silent. 

“You can.” He kissed up your chest and neck until he reached your face. “Let me make you feel good, baby.” You opened your eyes when you felt his breath fanning your lips. 

“This door doesn’t even lock.” You protested weakly. 

“All the more reason to stay quiet.” Before you could say anything else, he leaned down and kissed softly. His fingers slowed into a gentle curling motion, not trying to bring you closer to the edge yet. When you snaked a hand down his stomach, he broke the kiss and gently pulled your hand away. “This is just about you, love.” He explained, making you frown.

“But,”

“None of that.” He scolded softly. “Anything I do with my cock, you won’t be able to stay quiet for.” Even though you knew he was right, you still weren’t happy about it. “Don’t be a brat.” He warned when he saw your expression. 

“m’not.” You muttered, still pouting. 

“Should I stop? Leave you like this and go to bed?” You looked away from him, still wanting to argue, but not wanting to be denied. “Thought so. Now be a good little girl, lay there and take my fingers,” his eyes darkened as he leaned closer to you, “and keep your fucking mouth shut.” He hissed, using his hard dom voice. You stared at him with wide eyes, chest heaving as you squirmed, getting needier just from a few words. 

“Do you understand?” You nodded quickly and he raised his brows. 

“Y-yes.” You corrected yourself. His fingers picked back up almost immediately and your hand shot up to cover your mouth, muffling the moan that slipped out. He didn’t bother building back up to the pace, he just went from zero to one hundred. 

You breathed heavily through your nose, scrunching your brows together in concentration. His lips were slightly parted as he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, clearly affected by this situation as well. 

When he hit that particularly good spot inside of you, your eyes widened even more and you shook your head with a quiet whimper, warning him. There’s no way you’ll be able to stay quiet. His fingers were moving almost violently and you sobbed out a moan, making them stop instantly. You whined in response and he used his free hand to grab your neck, squeezing the sides tightly. 

“What did I say?” He hissed and you removed your hand from your mouth finally. 

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry. I’m trying…” You whispered through a breath. “Please.” When you pouted and bucked your hips, his expression turned into one of amusement. 

“Fine.” He resumed the relentless pace, keeping his hand on your neck. “You want to moan like a slut for the whole house to hear? That’s fine by me.” You faltered because, no… that’s not what you wanted. “Give them a show, baby. Make sure they all know how good I make you feel— how easy it is to turn you into a brainless little whore, unable to keep your fucking mouth shut.” He hissed, making you even needier. 

“Cillian..” You whined. 

“Yes, love?” He asked innocently. 

“I’m trying.” You whimpered, feeling tears of humiliation and desperation stinging your eyes. 

“I know, baby.” He cooed mockingly. “I know you are.” It almost seemed like he wanted you to be loud with the way he started grinding his palm against your clit and moving his fingers faster. Wet noises were just barely audible beneath the blankets but you knew he heard it too when he let out a breathy laugh. “Such a needy fucking pussy.” He whispered with a small smirk. “You’re dripping down my hand too.”

“Stop teasing me.” You whined with a pout. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I can’t help it.” He chuckled warmly. 

“You’re being mean!” Under normal circumstances, this would’ve been when you raised your voice at him. 

“Fingering my girlfriend is mean?” 

“Stop it!” You whined, louder this time. Your frown deepened, but it was hard to keep the expression with his fingers still curling against your walls. 

“Enough.” He growled, his grip on your neck tightening even more as his fingers inside you came to a stop. “Tell me the safe word.” He ordered, tone slightly softer, but still stern. You bit your lip and averted your gaze, making him squeeze your neck harder until you looked at him again. 

“…Red.” You muttered. 

“That’s right. The only time I want you to open your fucking mouth is to say that. One more word and I’ll shove my cock so deep down your throat you won’t even be able to make any sounds.” He warned. He’s big enough where even when you deepthroat, you can’t go all the way down. So you took the threat to heart. “Do you understand?”  

“Yes.” You whispered, then quickly closed your mouth. He didn’t bother replying before slowly moving his fingers again, getting you used to the feeling. You tried to take deep breaths through your nose to stay calm and collected, but you were still looking at Cillian, his face lit up by the moonlight. 

His gaze flickered between your eyes and your mouth and you instantly recognized the facial expression he had— The hunger and heat in his eyes as he prepared to ravish you. Normally that look was followed shortly after by him mounting you as he kissed you, swallowing your moans and pushing his cock inside, only stopping when he was buried all the way in. Judging by his heavy breathing and the way his cheeks tensed as he clenched his jaw, you figured he was thinking the same thing. 

You almost moaned his name, but remembered just before the word could come out. So you pleaded with him silently by furrowing your brows and looking up at him with wide eyes. He cursed under his breath and closed his eyes for a moment as he composed himself. 

When he suddenly got up on his knees and settled between your open legs, you felt a flicker of hope that you’d get what you wanted. He leaned down to kiss you, but made no move to take out his fingers or push down his pants. It took everything in you to not whine. 

He started kissing over your jaw and down your neck to your chest. When his lips latched on to your nipple, you quickly covered your mouth to hold in the sounds begging to escape. He rolled the other one between his fingers gently and your free hand went to his hair, tugging on it and pulling him impossibly closer. He let out a low groan from the slight pain on his scalp, the sound adding to your arousal. 

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He murmured, lifting his head to look at you as his hand started rubbing up and down your side. His fingers picked up, going faster and harder, bringing you closer to the edge. “My perfect little girl.” He whispered, leaning back over you and cupping your cheek. 

He suddenly kissed you again, his lips moving passionately against yours, claiming you in whatever way he could. While you were distracted with the kiss, he forced a third finger inside, making you release a startled moan that was muffled by his lips. Once you quieted down again, he reluctantly pulled back. 

“Can you come for me, baby?” He rasped, almost sounding desperate for it. When you nodded quickly, he gave you a warm smile. “Good girl… Can you be quiet while you do?” You looked away sheepishly, not sure if you should be honest or tell him what he wants to hear. You looked at him again and nodded slowly, your face almost looking guilty while you answered him. He chuckled quietly and gave you another kiss, this one much quicker. “That’s my girl.” He whispered proudly, making you blush and buck your hips into his hand. 

His fingers suddenly sped up, curling against your walls as his hand pressed firmly against your clit. Your blush darkened when he continued staring down at you, his eyes half-lidded with arousal. You couldn’t wait to finally go home so he could actually fuck you. It’s barely been a week and you’re already going crazy without having his cock inside you. 

Maybe you can convince him to take you to the “store” or something tomorrow and then park somewhere secluded and fuck in the car. But also the build up of so many days without it will make for some pretty fucking good sex when you get home… You couldn’t help but think about what he’d do— how many times he’d make you come, how sore and bruised your body would get, how much he’d fill you up, breed you until he didn’t have any come left to give you. 

“Fuck,” You choked out, clinging to his shoulders as the knot of arousal in your stomach tightened considerable. “I- I’m…” You whispered, unable to say anything else. His hand suddenly covered your mouth again, making you moan quietly. 

“Come for me, baby. Let me make you feel good.” He begged, voice incredibly raspy now. 

Your orgasm finally crashed over you and you clenched your jaw, trying to stifle your sounds. His fingers never faltered as your walls clamped down on them tight enough to almost force them out. “Good girl… I’m so proud of you, baby.” He cooed, making you whine and arch up into him as you rode it out to the very end. When you finally sagged back into the bed and started panting, he released your mouth and slowly pulled his fingers out. You watched as he instinctively lifted them toward his mouth, then suddenly stopped, staring at them for a moment. Cursing under his breath, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a tissue to clean them off. When he looked at you again and saw your confused expression, he explained. 

“If I taste you, I won’t be able to stop myself from eating you out and you're even louder during that.” You blushed, but laughed quietly because he was right. Finally, he laid down next to you and when you got up to move to the foot of the bed, he pulled you back with a gentle hand on your wrist. 

“I’m okay, baby.” He said softly, but his voice was still thick with arousal. “Tonight was just about you.” He kissed the top of your head and you couldn’t help but blush. 

“But…” You can literally see his hard on from beneath the covers. And also your mouth is already watering at just the thought of tasting and feeling him. “I want it.” You pouted, like a child who was denied a treat. 

“Not tonight, love. You’ll be too loud and it’s too messy.” You frowned, but didn’t protest because you were already coming up with a plan in your head. 

“Fine. We’ll just sleep then.” You grabbed his wrist and pulled as you turned onto your side, facing away from him. He cuddled you from behind, being careful to keep his hips far away from yours. After maybe a minute, you subtly shifted around, pushing your ass back. You didn’t reach his bulge before he grabbed your hip hard to hold you still. 

“Stop.” He warned, breath fanning your neck, making you shiver. 

“I’m just trying to get comfortable.” You said innocently, making him scoff. 

“No, you’re being a brat.” 

“I thought tonight was about me and what I want. Well this is what I want.” You reached behind yourself and palmed his bulge before he could stop you. He grunted in surprise, then his grip on your body got infinitely tighter. 

“Fuck— fuck. Fine.” He muttered, turning to lay on his back. You smirked and moved down the bed until you were laying between his legs. Without wasting any time, you freed his cock and stroked him slowly, making him sigh quietly. 

“In your mouth.” He ordered and you obeyed eagerly. When you started going up and down, keeping your hand at the base, he stopped you. “No. I’m going to fuck my fist and you’re going to keep your mouth on it until I come. Understand?” As soon as you realized that you weren’t going to be actively participating, you pouted and looked at him with puppy dog eyes. “It's either this or I go jerk off in the bathroom and finish in the toilet instead.” You whined loudly and his hand shot out to grab your hair and pull roughly. “Quiet.” He hissed. 

“Cillian..” You whined again, quieter this time. When all he did was stare at you, you frowned and removed your hand, letting his replace it. Once his hand was on his cock, you took the tip in your mouth and closed your lips around it with a quiet whine. 

“Good girl.” You whimpered, then started suckling on it, getting needier when you could taste some precum. For a while he just stroked his cock, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on him. But you needed more. 

“You’re not close yet, right?” 

“No.” He said through a breath. You immediately dove down and started kissing and licking his balls, forcing a choked moan out of him. You chuckled quietly and shushed him, but kept going. When you sucked one into your mouth, his hips bucked and he threw his head back, biting his lip to stifle any sounds. The sight had you squeezing your thighs together, but you forced your focus back onto the task at hand. 

“Shit, baby…” He whispered. Other than his heavy breathing, the only other sound that filled the room was your mouth, licking and sucking as saliva started building up. If you were at home, the sounds would’ve been far more obscene and spit would’ve been dripping down your chin by now, but you tried to keep things quiet and mess free. 

“Back on my cock.” He rushed out, stroking himself faster. You leaned up and wrapped your lips around him again, suckling on the head and swirling your tongue around it. One of your hands moved to gently play with his balls, giving him even more stimulation. 

“Christ… Don’t stop, baby. Please don’t stop.” He whispered, jerking himself impossibly faster. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked him down a little more. Instead of reprimanding you, he cursed under his breath and reached his free hand out toward you. “Hold my hand.” He begged. “I won’t be able to stop myself from pushing you down.” Even though your whole body was craving that, you knew it would be too loud, so you gave him your free hand and he squeezed it tight. 

He didn’t give you any warning before his abs contracted as his whole body tensed up, then the first shot of come hit the back of your mouth. You let out a surprised sound and his grip on your hand got even tighter. He fisted his cock rapidly, giving you every last drop as his lips parted in a silent moan and his brows scrunched together from the pleasure. 

Even though this seemed like one of the more tame ways you’ve given oral, it still felt dirtier than most. He wasn’t fucking your mouth or your throat, using you to get himself off. He was getting himself off and just using you as a cumdump. He wasn’t using you for pleasure, he was using you the same way he would a toilet, had he gone to the bathroom to jerk off. The thought had you moaning loudly before you could hold it in. 

When his body finally relaxed and his hand slowed to a stop, you pulled off and opened your mouth, showing him how well you’d done your job. His cock twitched and you smiled even though your mouth was still open, making him curse under his breath. You finally closed your mouth and swallowed all of it, then opened it again and stuck your tongue out for him to see. 

“Get up here.” He said almost breathlessly. With his hand still holding yours, he used it to pull you up until you were laying on your stomach, half on the bed and half on him. “You’re a damn tease, you know that?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said innocently, with a small smirk. 

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[cthulhu-calling]

New Perspective

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: What happens when you wake up in a bed that isn’t yours, next to a man who was supposed to have gone back to the past?

Warnings: dark fic, dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, smut, rape/non-con, l-bombs, friends with benefits

Author's Note: This is a dark Steve Rogers x f!Reader story. Sit this one out if it isn't for you. Please consider the tags before proceeding, this is your final warning, I am not responsible for the content you consume.

Word Count: 2,216

ao3 link

Steve Rogers Masterlsit

“You’re not coming back, are you?” 

He looked down at his feet, not able to meet your gaze. Slowly nodding his head, still not looking up, he reaches out to hold you in his massive, trunk-like arms and you let him. 

You and Steve had always been close, even if he was quite cold and standoffish when you first met. What had started off as a simple and pure friendship had developed into something more dark and dirty.

 In the day, he was your close friend and Captain but at night, he was your refuge. Nights spent with hot, sweaty, limbs tangled in each other, rough fingers tugging at your hair as you drew pleasure from each other’s bodies. 

Your arrangement was unconventional, sure, but it’s how you both liked it. No strings attached, just sex. You both had far too much going on to even consider an actual relationship with someone, so you helped each other out during lonely nights. 

To say you would miss him was a massive understatement but you knew he deserved to be happy. Happy with the love of his life,  Peggy Carter. 

Pulling away, you gently cupped his cheek before brushing your lips lightly against his. “You deserve happiness Steve. I won’t hold this against you, but don’t you dare forget about me.” you whispered as you playfully narrowed your eyes at him, poking a finger at his chest. 

He huffed out a laugh at your poor attempt at jest before pulling you close to him, searching your eyes for something more. 

“Steve, I am happy for you. After all that you’ve done for the world, you deserve a chance at being truly happy,” you said, offering him a genuine and what you hope was a reassuring smile. 

Looking lost, he gently nodded his head before pulling you towards the bed. One last time , you thought to yourself as you gave in to him. 

One last time, or so you thought.

Steve hadn’t meant to fall in love. 

What started out as a simple arrangement  of friendly banter and arguments by day and animalistic fucking by night ended up becoming the most passionate affair of his lifetime, and that in itself was saying a lot.

You were the one for him. He knew it and he believed it was high time you realised it too. 

But you? You were as clueless as they came. It was getting a little infuriating at this point, if Steve was being completely honest with himself. 

It was cute at first. How you would act as if you didn’t realise that he loved you. He bought right into the whole faux innocence act and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him achingly hard and desperate for you. To have you on top of him, your tight little dripping hole stretching to accommodate his thick length as you moan and mewl wantonly. 

But even after months, when you failed to acknowledge how in love with you he was, it started to anger him. How you would have a flirty back and forth with Sam, or brush a perfectly manicured finger against a random stranger’s arm at the pub, bending over slightly while pushing your elbows together to give them an eyeful of your cleavage. All of it made his blood boil.  

So he decided, he had to have you. No matter what. 

He wouldn’t find a more perfect opportunity than this. Under the guise of going to return the stones, he had you believe that he wasn’t coming back, that he was going back to Peggy. Surely, that would make you insecure and you’d beg him to come back, beg him to not leave you. It was foolproof, he was sure of it. 

But when he told you he was leaving, your reaction shocked him. You weren’t desperate for him to come back, begging him to stay back and vowing to do anything to please him. Instead, you were happy for him. 

At first, he couldn’t believe his ears. Surely, you can’t be serious. Did you really not love him? 

He was quick to dispose off that thought though. He was the love of your life and you were his. You belonged with him. To him. He figured that it was all an act, to hide how you truly felt. It was then that he decided to take matters into his own hands. 

That’s how you found yourself in this predicament; groggy and confused, still half asleep in a bed that isn’t yours. Once you realise the bed isn’t actually yours, the bedding a baby pink as averse to the bright yellow of your own with every square inch covered by one too many pillows, you’re alert immediately. Where are you? 

You push the covers off of yourself and just as you’re about to set your feet on the floor, the door at the left corner of the roughly rectangular room swings open, a smiling Steve stepping inside before shutting and locking the door behind him. 

“Morning sleepy head. You’ve been out for quite a while now, almost had me worried there.” he sighed the last part, the eerily hopeful smile still glued to his face. 

You looked around yourself, taking in your surroundings before looking back up at Steve. You were in a room with clean white walls, a huge bed in the centre of the room with two twin nightstands on either side of it. There were no windows, only the door through which he had entered and that too on closer inspection seemed to be made of thick metal, too heavy for anyone without superhuman strength to even try to budge. 

“Where am I Steve? How are you still here?” you asked, you throat scratchy. 

“C’mon honey, sit up straight,” he said as he moved closer to you, holding a tall glass of water to your lips. 

Gulping down the water, you cleared your throat before asking again, “Where are we? How are you still here? I saw you leaving Steve,” you thought out loud, pushing the thick covers off of your body, suddenly feeling their presence suffocating, only to look down and find yourself in a ratty and oversized t-shirt and  boxer shorts, both you were sure you’d seen on Steve at some point in time. 

Steve took in your form hungrily, loving how you looked in his clothes. 

“You need to relax honey. I’ll answer all your questions, but not right now,” he said as he gently pushed you back on the bed, tucking you in. 

“No, I need you to tell me right now. What the fuck’s going on here exactly?” you said, throwing back the covers to move out of the bed but before you can blink, you’re pinned down by Steve’s body. 

“I will not tolerate such language from you. You’re mine and you’re going to do exactly as I say, is that clear honey?” he said almost sweetly but you knew it was all an act to hide how angry he truly was. You saw right through his facade. 

“Yours? Steve, the fuc-“ you cut yourself off on seeing his glare, “I- I uh, don’t get it. What are you on about?” you breathed out.

“No point in pretending anymore my love, I’m only doing what you were too scared to do. I know you love me, I just had to get you to admit it. What better way then a romantic little getaway. No phones, no one but the two of us,” he said in a sort of dazed voice while you just sat there, slack jawed and wide eyed.

“You-you, uh, you’ve lost it! You’ve gone absolutely mental! I don’t love you, and I’m sorry if I made you believe that I did but you need to let me go,” you said while pushing him back and quickly getting out of the bed. 

He grabbed you by your hips, spinning you around and pulling you close so you were right against his chest. 

“Stop acting coy, I know you want me just as much as I want you. Can’t you see? We’re supposed to be together, together forever. And while I won’t tolerate how you spoke to me just now, I’ll let it pass just this once.

“I know you’re stressed love, but you’ve got to accept it. You’re the love of my life. You belong to me. ” He whispered the last part slowly as his hands travelled down to the small of your back, grabbing your ass and squeezing it, making you gasp. 

His lips attacked yours, swallowing all your protests as he slowly guided you back to the bed, pushing you down on it. 

“Give me a chance to prove it to you, make you see how right we feel, together,” he mumbled as he peppered kisses down you neck and chest, occasionally sucking a dark mark, laying his claim on you. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” he kept mumbling as his hand reached to tug down your shorts, deft fingers prodding at your entrance. 

He rubbed his thumb in figure-8’s around your clit, drawing a strangled moan from you. Arms and legs giving up their struggle as you fisted the sheets, pleasure shooting up your spine. 

“Please, Steve,” you moaned breathily and you knew not if you begged for him to stop or for more. 

The cheeky bastard had the audacity to act innocent as he slowed his movements, “Please what, my love?” he asked and you could hear the smug smirk on his face.

“Let me go, please!” you yelled, struggling against his hold with renewed vigour. 

Smack!

“Wrong answer honey,” he growled as he landed another smack on your bare pussy, making you yelp. 

Easily pinning you down, he ran his fingers through your folds before collecting the wetness there, bringing his dripping fingers to your lips. 

“Suck.” he ordered. 

When you didn’t move to open your mouth, he pushed his fingers into the back of your throat, effectively choking you. 

“Bad girls don’t deserve to be prepared beforehand, do they?” he asked condescendingly before he plunged his thick cock into your unprepared channel. 

Immediately setting a punishing pace as his free hand grabbed hold of both your wrists, pinning them above your head. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelching of your drenched pussy only spurring him on. 

“Look at you, dripping for me. You’re enjoying this just as much as me, aren’t you? And yet, yet you deny me of something that can only be right. We belong together, can’t you see?” he said with a low growl. 

You moaned around his fingers, the shame of being close to your climax while he forced himself on you bringing tears to your eyes. 

Letting go of your wrists, he brushed away your tears, driving himself harshly into your dripping cunt, “Don’t cry my love, don’t cry for something you can’t change. We belong together, and I’ll make sure you see it.” 

Making true of his promise, he started pounding into you, deeper and harder, hitting the spot that made your mind go blank, not being able to focus on anything but the pleasure that only his cock could give, that only he could give . 

You let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob as you came undone, clenching down hard on his cock, milking him. 

Grunting as he emptied himself inside of you, he slowly removed his fingers from your mouth, bringing his lips to yours for a rather chaste kiss considering he’d been balls deep in you just seconds ago. 

“I deserve to be happy. You said it yourself, my love. After all that I’ve done for this world, it’s the least I deserve. And we’re going to be so happy,” he mumbled into your ear, more for himself than you as he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, keeping you close to his body as your eyelids started to droop. 

Oh, whatever were you going to do now? 

[myfictionaldreams]

Rule Number One. // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was Bucky's birthday but even a surprise party won't stop Steve and Bucky from punishing you for not looking after yourself.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, angst, threesome, dom/sub, bdsm, punishment, self-neglect/forgetting to eat, rough sex, overstimulation, discussion of safe words, oral sex (m receiving), cum swallowing, multiple orgasms, spanking, daddy and sir kink, praise kink, size difference, begging, aftercare 

PLEASE BE WARNED: There is a lot of discussion about eating as the reader has skipped meals to party plan. If you find the topic of eating/skipping meals triggering, please proceed with caution.

ღ Be kind to yourselves please ღ

A/N: Also... the next Mafia!Stucky fic will be how reader & Steve met so keep a look out for that! Sorry my uploads have slowed down I’ve been busy with University but fingers crossed I’ll upload it soon.

Words: 7.2k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link 

As you began to complete one task, someone was at your side asking endless questions or you’d notice something was out of place and therefore would have to immediately fix it. It was ridiculously busy, more than you’d anticipated when you had the brilliant idea to host a surprise birthday party for Bucky.

Originally it was supposed to be a small get-together with a couple of friends, some nice food and drinks. However, as soon as you’d mentioned your idea to Steve, he insisted that the ‘sky was the limit’ for his best friend, no expenses spared. So now, at the local venuel, there were food vans hired, bars, a dance floor, plenty of waiters and servers and everyone on good terms with the Rogers mafia, was invited to celebrate your boyfriend and second-in-command to the gang. 

Steve, the boss, was currently distracting Bucky by taking him out for lunch and then a baseball game, keeping him thoroughly distracted so that you could organise the venue with a couple of other members of the gang.

“Where do you want the popcorn machine, Boss Lady?” Sam hollered from the other side of the dance floor.

“Over by the bar please, Sam!” you shouted back with just as much enthusiasm from where you were currently folding the napkins to place across the scattering of tables. A deafening cash then sounded from behind you as a waiter dropped a large case of glasses that were about to be placed behind the bar.

Trying to hold back your sigh of frustration, you were quick to try and help to clean up, mistakes happened but there was still so much to do. Being careful not to cut yourself on the glass, your phone began to vibrate in your back pocket, disposing of the glass in your hand into the bin and then stepping away to answer whoever was phoning.

A photo of you and Steve graced your phone screen, a smile finally springing to your face as you answered. “Hello, Handsome”.

“Hello beautiful, how’s it all going?” Steve’s deep voice always had your heart beating a little quicker, any worries and stresses you were experiencing disappearing from your thoughts.

“Is he with you?”, you asked quietly into the phone, knowing Bucky had amazing hearing.

“He’s gone to the toilet”, he informed, and you could tell that he was smiling as he spoke to you.

You couldn’t help but sigh into the phone, “It’s going peachy, having the best day ever and don’t regret planning this at all!” your voice was dripping with sarcasm as you began to pace up and down the random corridor you had found that was empty.

Steve chuckled at your response, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate all the effort you’re putting into this, baby”.

“I know he will, he was happy enough just to have a blowjob as he woke up this morning, let alone a full party in his honour”.

Steve hummed at the memory of waking up to see Bucky’s hands cupping the back of your head, guiding your movements as his cock pumped into your throat. “Such dirty words coming from such a pretty mouth”, Steve noted, his voice notably lower now as he teased.

Your cheeks warmed, your pacing stopped as arousal bloomed in your core, Steve was always so good at distracting you. Shaking your head you attempted to change the subject, “What time will you be arriving with him?”

Steve took a deep breath on the other end of the phone and you could hear shuffling as he attempted to readjust his pants that had tightened over his hardening cock, something that always happened easily when he was picturing your lips. “Um, probably half past five? Does this give you enough time to get everything ready?”

“Yes I think so, I mean, there’s still quite a lot to do but I can always get changed after he arrives, as long as I see his face when he sees the surprise that’s all I care about”, you grinned into the phone with anticipation for the upcoming event.

“You’re still looking after yourself right?” Steve asked curiously, “You aren’t pushing yourself too much to perfect this party”.

“Yeah of course I’m fine, it’s nothing I can’t handle”, you tried to blow off his worry but he didn’t seem convinced as he hummed again but it sounded more thoughtful than before.

“Have you eaten today?”

Your mind went momentarily blank of thoughts. Had you eaten today? You’d been drinking plenty of water as that was easy to have on the go but couldn’t remember having any food and with the way your stomach seemed to rumble at the thought of eating. 

“Does Bucky count as eating? I mean I technically did swallow…”, you smirked at the sound of Steve groaning at the other end of the phone, his cock pulsing at the thought.

“Now who is distracting”, he commented. “Bucky’s cum definitely isn’t enough food sweetheart”.

“I’m sorry, I will eat something, in fact, I’ll go and get something now before doing any more tasks, I’m sure there’s a vending machine hidden away somewhere”.

“Do you promise?” Steve asked, sounding more serious now.

“Yes of course”, you respond instantly.

“Good, you need to look after yourself and if I get there later and you haven’t, there will be repercussions. You don’t want to make me upset do you?” Steve asks, his tone completely changing from worried to gruff and steady.

“No sir”, you responded submissively, your chin tucking into your chest to hide your expression.

“Good girl, I know you’ll do me proud and eat but I need to make sure, I know that you want the best for this party but I won’t have you neglecting yourself just to make Bucky happy. Speaking of- he’s on his way back from the toilet, so I’ll see you later baby, I love you”.

“I love you too”, the phone cut off as you both simultaneously hung up. Great, you thought, not only were you hungry but aroused due to Steve’s subtle praises. Turning back towards the party room with the intention of finding a vending machine, all plans were quickly disrupted as one of the food vans arrived and parked in the wrong space and needed your attention immediately and once again, one thing led to another and a few more hours passed by.

It felt like in a blink of an eye, the afternoon had passed and guests were beginning to arrive, thankfully Sam was happy to welcome everyone as you dressed in record speed, just in time for Steve to arrive with Bucky.

Your cheeks were aching before long with how happy you were seeing Bucky’s reaction. He was beaming, his pearling white teeth grinning, the corner of his eyes creasing with pure joy, dimples forming in his cheeks, absolutely speechless as everyone wished him a happy birthday, Bucky couldn’t believe it, immediately his eyes locking in yours and quickly enveloping you in his muscular arms as he whispered his unwavering adoration for you.

The party was filled with joy, dancing, and plenty of food and drinks. You weren’t drinking though, not as the one being in charge of the party, someone had to stay level-headed, even though both Steve and Bucky had an extremely high tolerance to alcohol so weren’t really affected by it.

There were no fights either which was another positive for you and a rarity with such boisterous guests. Everyone seemed to be having a great time and as the night rolled on, you too were able to fully immerse yourself in the music, dancing between Steve and Bucky, smiling happily.

When the food vans began to serve, you were one of the first to stand in the queue and be served, stomach now painful with hunger, the inkling of guilt at the back of your mind as to not going to find any vending machines earlier but at least you had some food now! Settling your food on one of the tables near the back, and out of sight of Steve so that you could devour every single plate that you had managed to find, grabbing more plates than necessary but compensating for the lack of food throughout the day.

“This seems like an awful lot of food for someone who promised they would eat earlier”, Steve’s voice whispered into your ear. You screamed with a mouthful of food, having moved onto your third plate, your stomach beginning to feel full and happy. Your boyfriend took the seat next to you, placing his own food plates onto the table but he ignored them for now, leaning back in his chair to look over at you with a serious expression which told you he wasn’t in a joking mood and probably wouldn’t appreciate your sarcastic responses.

Swallowing the food sooner than you should have that it kinda hurt your throat, you sighed, shoulders dropping with defeat as you leaned heavily back into the chair. “I did try and find some food but then someone was asking for me and I was distracted and the next thing I knew, you and Bucky were arriving and it was too late”.

Steve seemed unconvinced by your excuse, “Did you try? If you did, you would have noticed the vending machine just outside of this room through that exit that would have taken you 30 seconds to get something to eat”, Steve pointed towards the closest exit, one that you had passed through at least 20 times that day.

“Shit”, you whispered under your breath, reaching for a couple of fries to shove into your mouth, unsure what to say but Steve was happy to continue talking for the both of you.

“You promised that you would eat something, you’ve been busy all day, you need to look after yourself”.

“It’s not like that, I didn’t do it on purpose, I just wasn’t thinking about myself today, I wanted Bucky to have the best party ever and I knew these food vans were going to be here anyway! I’m sorry I didn’t eat earlier Steve but everything is fine!”

Steve’s jaw clenched, “it’s not about being fine now, one of our rules, you, me and Bucky, is that we must look after ourselves and I need you to prioritise yourself over us, I’m sure they could have dealt with where to put the cake without you for a couple of minutes whilst you had something to eat. Not only that, you promised me that you’d eat something. I’m sure Bucky appreciates everything you’ve done for him but how do you think he’s going to feel when he finds out that you haven’t eaten all day just to make sure that his party looked good? He’s gonna be pissed”.

“Please don’t tell him, Steve, I don’t want him to have to worry about me today of all days, just let him enjoy his birthday and it’s not that big of a deal I promise, look- I’m happily eating now!”, you shoved a handful of fries into your mouth until your cheeks were bulging, in an attempt to make Steve laugh but it was unsuccessful as he still looked at you intently.

Steve leaned in close, his lips hovering over your ear as you began to chew the food in your mouth. “Do you remember me telling you what would happen if you didn’t look after yourself earlier?”

Your chews slowed, your heart, beginning to beat harder in your chest as you did remember, in fact, this was the reason you were trying to compensate now, hoping that Steve wouldn’t have brought it up. Nodding your head whilst looking down at your lap was your only response to the question.

“I want you to enjoy the rest of the party and I won’t tell Bucky - yet. In fact, I’m inclined to forget about punishing you for this because of how much fun Buck is having, but I need you to understand that you’ve broken a rule and a promise and I need to look after yourself first, not eating all day was neglecting yourself so I need the seriousness of the situation to be understood and it seems that you won’t listen to my words.”

Steve’s fingers drifted under your chin, tilting it until you were looking at him. His eyebrows were raised as he waited for you to answer but it felt like you were momentarily stunned with the weight of his words. With the dynamic of yours, Steve and Bucky’s relationships and being exclusively the submissive one, you’d had a fair few punishments due to certain situations and they ranged from one extreme to the other, both of them making you cum until you were overstimulated and near-passing out, or spanking until you couldn’t sit properly for two days and your cunt dripping with need but they would leave you until healed, making the punishment almost torturous with how much you were throbbing to be touched.

“Yes sir”, you finally managed to respond, unsure how to react as like always, you wanted to lean into his touch but you were being punished so didn’t want to push your luck too far with being given warm caresses of his fingers against your jaw.

However, Steve leaned down to kiss your cheek, giving you the confirmation that you could still lean into his touch, something you did greedily, suddenly feeling needy knowing that you’d upset him and broken your promise to him. “We’ll enjoy the rest of tonight, ok? I still owe you a slow dance anyway, don’t I?” Steve reminded you of the request you’d made to him yesterday, the thought making you reach for him more, but he grasped your reaching hands and placed them next to the plates of food. “Keep eating my love, there will be time for that later”.

He kisses you softly on the lips and you force yourself to continue eating, forgetting about the anxious pit in your stomach as the small amount of affection is enough to forget about the consequences of your actions that would occur at the end of the day.

It was well past midnight, and many of the attendants had left to continue the party elsewhere or return home to their families which meant the music had slowed its best considerably. This only gave Steve the opportunity to grab your hand and sway slowly together in the middle of the dance floor, his arms circled around your hips as yours rest on his shoulders, both of your foreheads leaning together which meant that he had to lean down considerably due to his significantly taller height but he never complained.

“You’ve done such a good job today, honey”, he praised under his breath, leaning to kiss your temple softly and intimately.

You leaned into the touch, closing your eyes and savouring the warmth of his body standing over yours, the softness of his lips and the aftershave that now seemed to remind you of feeling safe. “Thank you, I couldn’t have done it without you though”, you pulled your face away so you could look up into his sky-blue eyes that were flicking across your face, trying to mesmerise every inch of your beauty.

“You mean that you couldn’t do it without my credit card”, Steve joked with a growing smirk and twinkle to his eye as he heard your giggle in response.

“No, not just that, you do so much for all of us, thank you, Steve”. Standing on the tips of your toes, puckering your lips to indicate that you wanted to kiss him, he happily met you in the middle, his freshly shaved face connecting with yours, full lips lightly pressing just enough to want you needing more, both of his large hands cupped your face sweetly. However before you could do this, he began to pepper your face with teasing kisses, along your cheeks, nose, chin, anywhere that he could reach that once again had you laughing with glee.

Steve stood back to his full height, still holding your face so that he could watch your joy without you trying to hide in his chest. Then a third hand was brushing over your lower back, harder than flesh and as familiar as the ones cupping your face as Bucky slid behind you, “room for a third one?” he asked as his arms circled around your waist, lips kissing along your bare shoulder.

“Always”, you smile, eagerly leaning into his touch, feeling happy and safe sandwiched between the two. The three of you swayed on the spot in time with the music, you had a hand gripped onto each of them, wishing that this moment could last forever. “What do you want to do after this Buckaroo? I think they want everyone out at 1 am so they can begin cleaning, did you want to go out for more drinks? I think some of the guys have gone to that bar a few blocks away, we could go there if you like?”

Bucky didn’t answer immediately, his eyes closed as his mouth remained on your naked skin, breathing in your scents, feeling that same calm that you always felt when in their arms but then he was kissing a path up to the shell of your ear. “Oh, I don’t want to go anywhere after this except home where I can really show you how thankful I am that you’ve done this for me”.

Your core tightened in arousal at his words, eyes unfocusing for a brief moment as you tried to think of something to reply, any word at all but it seemed you were completely distracted with the thought of his plans for when you all returned home. Bucky’s chest vibrated against your back as he chuckled deeply, “Is that something you’d like Doll? Do you think you’d like my tongue stroking across every inch of your skin, my fingers curling against the special spot I know you like so much? I won’t be in a rush either, slowly working your body through all of the pleasure that I know you like”.

Your thighs rubbed together uncomfortably, happy they were both holding you up as your knees wobbled, mouth dropping open to help with your breathing as the air suddenly became very thick. “Maybe I won’t even wait until we get home, the toilets here are very spacious, maybe I’ll let you cum before we leave as you have been such a good girl”.

You moaned at the praise name, tilting your head back onto his shoulder, wanting everything he was wanting to give you but then Steve stated in a more stern voice, “Actually Bucky, I’ve got some other plans with her first. Do you want to tell him or shall I?”

Your eyes flashed open as it felt like your whole body had been coated in ice water as the realisation of this dreaded conversation of course had to happen now as you were beginning to become highly aroused and so did Bucky with the hard lump brushing against your backside. Looking up at Steve, you gave him a look that would hopefully soften his threats, eyes wide with hope, bottom lip sticking out slightly but Steve simply brushed his thumb over it and gave you a knowing look.

“That looks not going to work today baby”, Steve insisted. Bucky was now pulling away from where he was nibbling your ear lobe, looking up at his best friend with a questioning glance.

“What’s going on?” he asked and the three of you had stopped swaying now, standing completely still in the middle of the dance floor but luckily there weren’t many people remaining to see the discussion.

“Our beautiful girlfriend decided to break rule one today”, Steve stated without a care in the world, changing the outcome for the night now.

You could feel Bucky pull away further, his hand leaving your waist to grip your jaw, tilting your jaw back so that you were now looking over your shoulder at him, “you didn’t look after yourself!”

“I… I was just so busy today that I didn’t have time to get anything to eat. I've had plenty now though, it’s fine!” You finally found your tongue and explained the events, hating how much this was being exaggerated, it wasn’t like you forgot to eat every day, in fact, you absolutely loved food, it’s just that on this one occasion, the perfection of the party ended up taking priority.

“Baby that’s not the point, you promised me earlier you’d find something to eat to keep your energy up, I need you to understand that yes, even though you’ve eaten now, you can’t go that long without food”, it was Steve now who was forcing your face to look at his.

He did have a point though, even though this had yet to turn into a punishment, you knew for sure you’d never make this mistake again, in fact, you were going to make sure there would be a couple of breakfast bars in your bag from now on, not ever wanting to have this conversation with either boyfriend again.

“There’s no point fighting us on this baby, you know why this is happening?” Steve questioned, tilting his head again with a knowing look, expecting you to repeat back to him why you were going to be punished.

“I’m being punished because I promised that I would eat earlier and I didn’t make it a priority which is breaking rule one”, your voice sounded defeated, knowing any arguments and disagreement you wanted to have would be ignored.

“Good, now let’s go home”, Bucky stated, giving your cheek a soft peck that helped you to not feel as disheartened by the notion of going home just to be punished.

Your mind seemed to blur with the rush of saying goodbye to people and loading up the taxi with all of Bucky’s presents and anything else they managed to steal including a few bottles of Rum before you were squished between the two of them in the back of the cab.

Your hands began to tremble in your lap as your thoughts escalated in your head as to what was coming your way. You always prided yourself on being a good girl and the naturally submissive personality meant that you’d always try and make the boys happy so the thought of a punishment was making you nervous.

Steve and Bucky simultaneously held one of your shaking hands, their thumbs stroking your skin in an attempt to calm you down. The blonde Mafia leader shifted in his seat which was a struggle with his bulging muscles already squeezed into the tight space but he made it work as he now faced you, one arm leaning over the back of your seat so he could lean down to whisper into your ear.

“The safe words are still in effect baby, I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to, ok?”

You released a heavy breath, finding the courage to squeeze both of their hands at hearing this. Of course, you already knew this, Steve and Bucky were always very good with their consent, always listening if you needed a break or wanted to stop if things became too intense. “Yes sir”, you made sure to audibly reply, leaning your forehead against his.

“I also meant what I said earlier, you’ve done such a good job today, I still want Bucky to show his appreciation to you but we’ll get to that later”. This also helped your anxiety about being punished, knowing that it wouldn’t last the entire night as it had on previous occasions.

Steve pulled his forehead away from yours but only to kiss a tender kiss against your temple and then returned to looking out of the window. Feeling slightly more needy now with the impending event, you leaned into Bucky’s arm and he returned the intimacy but whispered, “I’ve got you mama, just need you to look after yourself, that's all”.

Even on returning home and unpacking the taxi, there wasn’t any rush to punish. The three of you found some leftover pasta in the fridge, reheated it and kept it in the pan as you all had a fork each and tucked into it as Bucky opened a few of his presents. You and Steve had already given your presents to him in the morning, a brand new motorbike courtesy of Steve and from you, there was a new salve that was supposed to help the ache in his shoulder where the metal and flesh met and when you were worried this wasn’t enough, a little jar of pieces of paper that promised sexual favours whenever he picked out a strip of paper.

He appreciated everything that was given to him and you loved seeing the joy in his eyes but all too long, you were all stumbling up the stairs, exhausted from the long day and you were desperate to take off your dress as it began to feel uncomfortable.

“What are you going?” Steve asked as he watched you begin to pull one of his oversized t-shirts over your head as a makeshift pyjama top but his question had your movements halting as you looked at him with a confused frown.

“Getting ready for bed?”, your answer caused Steve to chuckle with a hint of condescension.

“Oh princess, did you really think we forgot?”.

No…but you certainly had forgotten since returning home about the promise to punish for your earlier mistake. Hugging the shirt to your front, you watched as Steve removed his tie, unbuttoning the top two of his shirt buttons as he walked towards you.

“Remember your safe words?”

“Green, yellow and red”.

“Good, and what about when your mouth is preoccupied?”

Your chest tightened at his new question, wondering what he had in store, “I would tap my hand once, twice or three times or nod my head for green, shake my head once for yellow or twice for red”.

“Well done”.

Those were his last words as he reached to take the material from your grasp, throwing it to the side and leaving you completely bare before him. His eyes appreciate searched over your body and even though you felt exposed under his stare, the subtle smile on his face had you feeling confident.

Steve then gently walked you over to the bed where Bucky had just finished laying out a few objects across the sheets, it appears the two of them had quickly discussed the punishment with the way they wordlessly worked together.

Bucky’s own stare at your naked body was just as loving as Steve’s and it almost looked like he wanted to reach across and follow through with his earlier plans of licking you up but refrained. Instead, he began to layer your body up with restraints, starting from the bottom, placing a spreader bar between your legs, the straps taped around your ankles so that you weren’t able to close them.

Then he was standing behind you, his hands cupping yours to bring them together behind your back so that he could handcuff them together, the metal cool against your warm skin. Lastly, Steve’s black tie was placed over your eyes and tied around the back of your head so that all you were able to see was complete darkness, only instead having to concentrate on your hearing senses as to where the two men were.

“I’m going to lie you on your front across the bed now, Baby girl”, Steve's voice was suddenly behind you instead of Bucky and it made you jolt with surprise but you followed his instructions and the hands that were urging you to bend over the bed. “Take a seat Buck, enjoy the view”.

Your cheeks warmed as you could hear a chair being moved in the room and knew that Bucky was now sitting directly behind you so that he had the perfect view of you bent over the bed, your legs spread open and your already soaked cunt on view for him. Shifting slightly to get comfortable, you were thankful when Steve placed a pillow under your head, helping to take the weight fully off of your neck.

A couple of minutes passed as Steve seemed to wander around the room, preparing for the punishment and all you had to do was wait and try not to squirm which was uncomfortable with how aroused you already were, your feet digging into the carpet of the bedroom floor to try and keep yourself in position, the hands handcuffed resting against your lower back.

“Do you understand why you’re being punished?” Steve suddenly asked, his voice full of authority now as he slipped into his dominant headspace which only made you mewl, wiggling your hips to both show how open you were for him, but also how wet, wishing for him to touch you. Steve wasn’t having it though, gripping one of your arse cheeks firmly to keep you still and waiting for you to answer. It was also usually Steve who dealt the punishments to you, Bucky usually finding that he was too easy to give in to your wishes and giving up halfway through to kiss you better so most of the time he sat back and watched.

“I’m being punished because I forgot to eat all day, breaking rule number one, even after I promised”. This was the first part of your punishment, to explain why you were being disciplined whilst also completely bare, the sensation feeling degrading and embarrassing.

“That’s right”, Steve made sure not to praise you, even though he wanted to say that you were a good girl for answering his question. “I am going to give you 10 slaps to each cheek until they’re both hot to touch and then Bucky is going to decide if you deserve any more punishment for not looking after yourself. Now… I want you to thank me for looking after you with every single slap. Do I make myself clear, baby?”

Your tongue suddenly felt too large for your mouth, 20 spanks overall, you had really upset him to deserve that many. Steve tapped your hip to remind you to talk and you swallowed drily, “Yes sir, I understand”.

Taking a deep breath to try and remain calm, letting your body melt into the sheets, knowing from past experience that if you tensed too much then you’d be aching for many more days than necessary. Behind your blindfold, you couldn’t see Steve smiling as he saw you preparing for his hand, a small voice at the back of his conscious feeling sorry that he had to do this but then he remembered just how long you’d gone without food when you had promised to be good.

Steve’s large palm swatted through the air, the contact with your left arse cheek, causing a loud ‘smack’ that had you jolting but it wasn’t too painful to begin with.

“Thank you for looking after me”, your voice was confident as you were happy to remember to speak but once again, this would all change the further into the punishment you went.

The next few spanks only mildly stung but as the fourth made contact, your arse cheek began to sting, thighs shaking slightly with the impact from trying to flinch away. By the sixth, the skin was warm to the touch but not enough for Steve to stop and you made sure to continue thanking him for each swat.

You were making sure to breathe deeply, in through your nose and out through your mouth, to try and remain in control of your emotions but as the eighth spank connected, you were starting to lose your control. Not only was the stinging in your left arse cheek increasing, but Steve was being teased and letting the tips of his fingers graze further down your thighs, inching closer to your sopping wet lips but never actually touching.

Even though you would prefer not to be punished, there was no denying that the thorough establishment between dominant and submissive, being completely controlled by Steve and furthermore the mixture of pain and pleasure only made you become a drooling mess.

As you thanked Steve for the tenth spank, you were exclusively mouth breathing now, not being able to use the brain power to calm yourself down. Your left cheek was feeling tender now and with the size of Steve’s hand, the sensation spread from your lower back to the tips of your thighs and was now hot to the touch, sweat gathering across your body due to the sensations.

Your boyfriend didn’t give an inclination that he was moving on the next ten until his hand was slapping against your previously untouched cheek. This seemed to snap you out of whatever control that you had been holding onto, a deep groan slipping from your lips, saliva building under your tongue and slipping out of the corner of your mouth and soaking the pillow beneath.

“Thank you for looking after me”, you managed to choke on the lump in your throat, tears beginning to form under the blindfold. It wasn’t overwhelming pain that you were feeling but the throbbing and pulse of your cunt was driving you almost insane, wanting to beg to be touched but you needed to be good and take your punishment.

Three more spanks later and you were openly sobbing, your arse trying to move back with Steve’s hand, desperately chasing his touch. When you expected the fourth, you were disappointed when it didn’t come, knees wobbling as they continued to try and keep your body from collapsing onto the floor. 

“What’s your colour?” Steve asked with more affection to his tone. Green…GreEN, GREEN! You screamed in your head but your tongue didn’t want to say anything that wasn’t “thank you for looking after me”, so instead you opted to tap your fingers once where they rested still cuffed together. “You’re doing so well, only 6 more to go baby”.

Steve’s reassurance only made you cry harder, you had taken more than half of your punishment, the finish line in sight.

Four, five, six, seven spanks on your right cheek and your voice now were only just audible with a whisper as you continued to try and hold back from begging. Your arse was tender to the touch, hot and slightly raised from the impacts.

Not that you could see but Bucky was having to hold onto the edges of the chair with a ferocious grip to stop himself from pouncing over and fucking you hard into the bed. Seeing you completely fucked out of your mind and needy, his cock was throbbing harder than it ever had before from where it stood proudly pointing towards his abs. He had to take it out of the restraints of his trousers it had been so uncomfortable but he didn’t want to touch himself, not when this was a punishment for you, but he couldn’t deny the thick globs of precum that were trickling from the tip and dripping down his abdomen.

Steve was just as hard but kept his cock tucked within his boxers and slacks, needing to remain in control of the punishment for only three more slaps and if he did touch his cock, he knew that he would be doing something similar to what Bucky was desperate to do.

Number eight and nine spanks were given, your entire body trembling now with overwhelming emotions and sensitivity.

Steve swatted his palm down onto your right ass cheek for the tenth time, his skin now red from the impacts but he didn’t care as he listened to you shout in relief at the punishment being over, frantically praising, “Thank you, thank you, thank you”, towards Steve.

You weren’t thinking clearly now, feeling so aroused it was painful, your clit desperate for attention, your hole quivering with the need to be filled. The heavy tension that was once taunting over your body as you waited for each spank was not loosened leaving you feeling floaty and light.

So lost in your fucked-out thoughts, you hadn’t felt the bed shift next to where your head lay as Bucky undid your blindfold, wiping away the tears. “Doll, I’m gonna need you to talk to me”.

You knew he meant to check in that you were ok but all that came out of your mouth was, “Please fuck me, please fuck me please…”.

Bucky’s cock throbbed at the request but he waited for you to calm down slightly, enough so that you opened your eyes but this only turned to more begging as you were now eye level with his member.

“Shh sweet girl, you’ve taken the punishment so well, I don’t think you need any more, I just need to make sure that you’re with us and not too spacey”.

“My colour is green, please fuck me Bucky, I just want your cock, please Daddy”.

Bucky audibly groaned now, eyes rolling back at your desperation and he was instantly moving back to the other end of the bed, removing the remainder of his clothes as he admired your exposed, dripping cunt before stepping closer, working his feet around your spreader bar so that he was now only a couple of inches away from penetrating you.

“Please Bucky! Fuck me…”, your voice was raspy and thick as you glanced over your shoulder, your sight a little blurry from the tears but enough to see him shifting forward.

“My poor needy sweet mama”, Bucky grunted, holding the base of his cock as he pushed it towards your entrance, groaning as he slipped in with ease, your arousal lubing him perfectly. The two of you released near animalistic shouts of relief at finally being touched in the way that you had wanted.

Bucky had attempted to allow you time to adjust to his thick, veiny shaft but you immediately began to roll your hips, wanting him to move and he was more than happy to oblige. With his metal hand holding onto your hip, his flesh hand held onto your handcuffed hands, using both as momentum to pull your body back and forth onto his cock that was stroking your warm wet walls just how you wanted.

The birthday boy did little to hold back his movements, fucking you hard and fast and with the way your sore arse was smacking into his hips, it wasn’t long before your first orgasm was quivering your cunt in bursts around him. He didn’t relent, fucking you through it and making the pulsing last as long as it could before it fluttered to a stop, leaving you sensitive and wanting more.

Your eyes were clenched closed as you enjoyed Bucky’s pleasure, your moans vibrating into the bed.

A firm hand was then suddenly gripping your cheeks, making your eyes snap open to look at Steve from where he knelt next to the bed so you were both at eye level. “Think you can take me to baby?” he asked with a husky voice, his other arm moving vigorously as he touched himself from where you couldn’t see.

You didn’t answer verbally, instead, your jaw swung open, tongue sticking out as a sign that you wanted him in your mouth, wanting to taste his arousal.

Steve and Bucky then fucked your two holes, as Bucky fucked forward it pushed your mouth further onto Steve’s length that dragged against the back of your throat, causing more tears to spring free from your eyes, your moans muffled by his member.

You weren’t sure when but you came again, your body absolutely exhausted as Bucky’s frantic fucking only meant that the peaked sensation of the orgasm lasted longer which only assisted in Steve’s pleasure as your throat tightened.

“You’re doing so well for us sweetheart, that’s it, taking my cock like a good girl, Are you ready for daddy’s load?” you weren't able to verbally answer but you made sure to suck him harder as Steve held the back of your head. His cock pulsed a few times before he remained still, his tip at the back of your throat and his cum began spurting into you. Eagrly you drank it down, groaning at the salty goodness that was his seed, not stopping your movements until his cock began to soften and he eased out of your mouth.

“Fuck-Shit- Ah!”, Bucky grunted hysterically, his thrusting erratic and grip on your body tight as he came too, watching you take Steve’s load so well, he couldn’t hold back his own release. “Can you feel me filling you up, Doll? Wanna see it dripping out of you…”.

As Bucky’s cock began to soften post-orgasm, he gently pulled out, careful of your sensitive pussy and then groaned seeing his white, thick juices spilling out of your used hole. “So fucking pretty”, he praised and you mewled in response, eyes closed and not willing to open.

“You ok, my love?” Steve asked sitting next to your head once more, stroking the side of your drenched face that was covered in sweat, saliva and tears.

“I’m ok”, you answered honestly, but your voice was so quiet and timid, completely exhausted from both the long day setting up the party but also the nighttime activities.

Steve and Bucky were careful with their next few steps, the aftercare that they provided was one of their favourite parts in this type of relationship, being able to look after you after you’d been so good for them, making you feel safe and loved.

Even though all you wanted to do was fall asleep, they made sure to keep you awake as they undid all of the restraints, massaging the areas of your wrist and ankle specifically before Bucky gathered you into his arms and walked towards the bathroom.

In there, they ran a warm bath, cleaning your body but also the temperature helping to relax your aching body from being held in the same position for so long. It also helped the heat coming from your spanked arse.

Once cleaned, Steve held you up as Bucky dried, finally easing that t-shirt from earlier onto your body. The brunette found the jar of cooling salve next to his side of the bed, massaging the cream onto your arse to help with the pain and heat that was radiating from the surface, the sensation making you moan deeply.

Lastly, as you were slotted between Steve and Bucky on the bed, they passed you a glass of water, watching as you finished it before giving you a chocolate bar, even though you were all going to bed, it was better to have some energy than waking feeling worse.

As the bedside light was switched off, Bucky kissed the tip of your nose, “I love you so much, thank you both for today, it’s been the best day ever”.

“I love you too, Buckaroo, I’m so glad you’re a part of my life”, you responded honestly before sleep captured your consciousness.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

want you tonight | aaron hotchner x reader

wc: 675, rating: teen/mature (no smut)

tags/warnings: boss/employee, fem!bau!reader, they're drunk but they don't do anything yet, kissing and sexual tension

a/n: i am a spencer girl at heart but jesus christ does hotch make me feel some type of way. i just wanted to get this little drabble out, but if you'd like to see more please leave me a comment and i might follow up with the smut!!! (ao3 link here!)

Hotch presses you up against his front door, closed behind them when you entered his apartment. While Hotch has been eyeing you all night, you feel pinned against the door by his gaze right now. His eyes bore into you, studying your face, studying you. He looks like he wants to kiss you.

“Hotch.” You rest your hands on Hotch’s shoulders, letting your hands slide down his arms. “You– Do something.”

All of a sudden, as if he hadn’t been eyeing you up like a starving man in front of his next meal, he pulls away, head in his hand, massaging his temples like you’re the thing giving him a migraine right now. “No. No.”

The whiplash is enough to sober you up. You step forward towards him, reaching out. “What? Hotch–”

“No, we can’t–” Hotch shakes his head, keeping you away with one hand on her shoulder.

You frown. “Hotch, you invited me here. We’re both drunk. You pinned me up against your front door, and I know you want–”

“Don’t. Don’t say it,” Hotch’s voice comes out shakily. He looks conflicted, but you know he’s dead serious. “If you say it then– Then it becomes real.”

You can’t take it any more. It can’t just be a coincidence. Hotch is always asking you to stay by his side when the team splits up. You know the way Hotch looks at you means something, more than just a concerned boss. His dark eyes always regard you in a way you can’t put on paper, but they give you some glimmer of hope that your boss is just as attracted to you as you are to him. You’re both drunk. Hotch invited you up to his apartment. There’s no way he hadn’t intended for… something. Right?

“Don’t you want it to be real?” You ask. “Even just for one night? I know you want me, Hotch. Just because you’ve been doing this for longer doesn’t mean I can’t read you just as well.”

Hotch says your name, his tone grave. Then, “You have no idea how badly I want you.”

“You have me. In your apartment,” you say simply.

Hotch shoots her a glare. “But I’m your boss. If we… Whatever I do with you, I– We’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”

“No one has to know,” You say, feeling a little desperate. Yeah, maybe you are hot and bothered by the way Hotch pushed you up against the door, and yeah, maybe you do want Hotch to do something about it. “You’ve done things under the table before.”

“I know I have, but they’ve always come to light, one way or another. I can’t.” Hotch’s guard has come down, surprisingly vulnerable as they stand in his hallway, but his hand is no longer keeping you away.

“But you want to,” You affirm, taking a step closer to him. You try to meet Hotch’s gaze, and when you do, you can see the worry in his eyes. “I want you too, Hotch. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

Hotch exhales sharply, mind seemingly busy as he weighs out his options. After a moment too long of silence, a silence that has you thinking you should start making your way out, he says, “Just for tonight. And don’t call me Hotch. It just reminds me that I’m supposed to be your boss.”

“Aaron,” You start, hesitant, your boss’ first name unfamiliar on your tongue. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“God, yes,” Aaron sighs, like he’s relieved, and closes the distance between you and him. His hands reach for your waist like they’re magnets, pulling you close. There’s a tenderness in the way he presses his lips to yours, one hand holding your cheek as he sighs into the kiss.

Your hands are on his arms as you kiss him back. You feel up his strong arms, his sturdy body, feeling so secure while he holds you close and kisses you. Your head spins: finally, finally, you have Aaron, and it feels like heaven.