#so is she part of the plotting?? does he just not care???? what's going on Saint crew??

[secretaccountlol]

TRIGGER : DUBCON— SMUT ! This is Mohawk mark.. he’s not a super nice guy lol.

This is my first ever dubcon so I’m like super nervous about it lmao

Cw: AFAB reader. I mention the reader wears panties n a bra and he does cup your breast (describing as fitting in his hand but no description of size)

Kinks are ; fingering, biting, degrading (whore, slut and things of that nature) praise, “bratty” reader

Summary: You’re a supervillain Mohawk mark… takes an interest in… :0!

This literally came to me in a fucking DREAM yall (yes apparently i dream fanfic now!) so if the plot is bonkers.. don’t blame me — er well.. blame my brain which is still blaming me okay whatever enjoy

Guys.. I’m so nervous to post this idk why..

Your powers are undefined ; but you are strong enough to *hurt* mark. 

If you like this I’ll post the second part. So repost and leave a comment letting me know what you think! I read everything sent to me :)

Your mom is a supervillain.

You found out when you were younger. On accident.

Of course, you first assumed she was a hero—what with her fancy get up—but, then, you saw the news. And surprisingly quickly, you realized that this wasn’t the case.

At least, she did it for a cause, though she did occasionally swipe a few shiny artifacts for herself. If the British museum could steal precious artifacts and be praised for it, why couldn’t she?

Despite this, didn’t change your family dynamic.

Your mom was still a kind woman who instilled within you a sense of justice, taught you the value of family, to be kind to others. Your mother was saint in your eyes, even if she could be… impish to others.

So, imagine your surprise when she comes crashing into through the back door of your house, bloodied and bruised. Suffice to say you aren’t very fucking impressed.

“Oh my god mom! Are you okay?? What the hell happened?!”

Your legs move faster than she can react, you haul her up with one arm walking her to the couch.

“Language, baby. And I’m fine. It’s just a flesh wound.”

“No! Fuck that—sorry.. but mom, this isn’t a flesh wound, who did this to you?! Tell me!”

Your hands shake her slightly, as her eyes trail from yours. This is the part she never lets you see.

“Mom. Please?”

“I’m going to get the first aid kit.”

Your mom slowly lifts before you push her back down.

“No. I got it. After I patch you up, I’m goin’ to find that bastard and put him in the ground.”

Your mom groans as she bites your name from her lips, “No! This is exactly why I don’t let you see me like this, I don’t want you to follow in my footsteps. You’re a good kid.. you don’t need a record. To always have to look over your shoulder. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been beat, darling.”

“Mom. Following in your footsteps would an honor.”

Your mother sighs, her mouth opening to speak you hold your hand up to stop her.

“But, I understand you don’t want me to and I respect that. But mom, there’s no reason for them to .. to beat you halfway unconscious like this! It’s not like you’re killing anybody.”

Your mother scoffs, “Baby, I don’t even have a bruised rib, if anything that new hero took pity on me.”

“New hero..?”

Your heels dig into the floor as you turn toward your mother, med-kit gripped in your hands.

There’s only one new hero you knew. Same one caused destruction on a daily basis, if you didn’t know he was a superhero, you would have probably assumed he was a villain too.

Now that your mom’s getting older, she’s not as fast as she used to be. You find yourself helping her out more than she cares to admit, which meant even more close encounters with that fuckface.

You try to keep your peace, but it slips away from you the second you see her bleeding, holding a towel to the new gash on her scalp.

“That fuc-freakin’ dick head in— in ..invin— god what is his dumb ass name?!”

“Invincible, darling.”

“Yeah, him! He did this to you mom?”

Your mom is quiet again, staring through the window.

“Mom. So help me god.. if that’s who hurt you—“

Your mom’s head quickly whips away from the window, her body tensing before relaxing.

“Baby.. it’s fine, I’m fine, let’s not worry about it. Come on, just patch me up—“

Anyone else wouldn’t have caught it, but you know your mom.

You bolt to the window before she let out a sound of disapproval.

That blue fucker hovered around your neighborhood, scanning the multicolored rooftops, most likely looking for your mother. Your eyebrows furrow.

Not the first time you’ve seen him, fought him.

Your mind zips back a memory of your mom on the news, running like prey from him and his merry little band of freaks. Your fist became fury as you tore through those streets, you couldn’t get a good hit on him though, didn’t matter at the time, you were only there to make sure your mom escaped, she did so you left.

Words were exchanged— hot and heavy and that was just the first time you fought him.

But this is different. This is your home, an advantage, no masks or multi-colored friends to help him.

“Don’t do anything stupid. We shouldn’t alert them of our home base!” Your mothers words hissed from her mouth, but your ears were brick walls.

The house shudders as you speed out the door, your shoes leave skid marks on the pavement as your head whips around before locking your eyes on him.

“Hey! You fucking corpo shill!”

Invincible’s head ticks as he searches for your voice.

“Over here, dumbass! Shouldn’t you be less of a directionally-challenged asshole from that high?”

Your grin splits your face as he spots you,

“Damn, who pissed in your cereal?”

“Same person who gave you that fuck ass haircut.”

His smirk made your blood rise as he hovered just above you.

“I actually quite like my Mohawk, makes me look sexy, don’t you think?”

His fingers tangle through his hair, brushing it slightly out of his face. You can admit, he’s… Hot.

At least, good looking, his skintight suit accentuates his curves and abs.

“Really? Do you also think it’s sexy to beat up old women too?” Your fist tightened, your stand widened.

A breath gets caught in throat as a chuckle slips out, “Hmm, I don’t remember beating up any old women,” his finger taps his bottom lip.

“Buttt, I do remember chasing an old hag through the streets, why? You know her?”

“Old… hag?”

“Ooo, I take it you do, huh?” His head tilts, as your eyes twitch.

Your name falling from your mom's voice causes both you and Invincible heads to snap to her.

You watch as Invincible’s tongue swipes over his lips, “Oh, there you are, been lookin for ya—“

His body shifts towards your mom, his eyes no longer focused on you, good. More words rush out from his mouth towards your mother, you can’t make them out though, the blood from your adrenaline pumps sucks the air quiet around you.

Your fist whirls back, as your body slugs its weight into the punch.

Your soft skin collides with the hard jaw of Invincible, a mini sonic boom blasts the dust away from both of you as your eyes lock with his, and he stumblea backwards as his neck tweaks.

“That.. actually hurt..?”

You don’t wait for him to catch his breathe, another strike to the gut then an uppercut.

No words, just movement.

Compared to him, you know you're not evenly matched, but if you just keep moving..

Keep moving.

His hands catch yours, fingers clench in a crushing grip. “Whoa, I wasn’t expecting that. You— you got few punches in there!”

You tug your arm as you try to gain distance,

“Tsk, nah can’t get away—“

Shit..! Think— think!

You dash into him, closing distance fast as your head reels back.

CRACK!

Your skull connects with his nose, blood sprouts his nose as you rip your wrist away.

“Mom! The garage door.. Open it! We can—“

Your body slides up the driveway as the force of Invincible’s punch whips you back. His arms wrestle you down you, pinning your body onto the concrete.

“Nuh-uh, none of that working together bullshit!”

“Fuck you!” Your body writhes underneath him,

“Ooh yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

Heat blooms in your lower half, as his half-lidded eyes rake over you.

“You‘re fuckin’ disgusting!”

“Yeah baby, but what are you?” His hands slide up your neck, tracing over your trachea before his fingers grip in an unwavering hold, your head stretches back as you try to gain more air, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. Your hands desperately try to scratch at his face, and his fist raisea.

“I ain’t into hittin’ innocent people but you don’t too innocent to me to right now, heh.”

“Invincible!”

His head tips up as yours tilts back, your mother.

And your savior, your P-f High power gun gripped in her hands, red beam instantly knocks him backwards.

“Fuck! My eye!”

You scramble to your feet running towards your mother, you don’t get far, your enemy is already tackling you to floor of your garage.

“Goddamn, you're slippery!”

“Yeah, you’re a fuckin’ idiot!”

“Mm, an idiot that’s got you pinned”

“Really? Because to me looks like you’re the one who's pinned.”

A laugh bubbles out from you as watch him scan the room.

Your garage was your solace, your place to work—also conveniently your weapon’s locker, your automatic weapons beams train on his back.

Your head tilts, “What now, Invincible..? You move, this whole place lights up.”

“Think I’m afraid of some fuckin’ guns?”

“Mm, no, but these babies are pretty high powered, wouldn’t want my neighbors to get shish kebabs by a stray laser, now, wouldn’t ya?”

“Darling, don’t be rash, we don’t— we don’t need to hurt anyone else.”

Your mom's voice is ice to a searing wound.

His palms squeeze the curve of your wrist, “Yeah, darling. We don’t need to hurt anyone else.”

“Mom, close the garage door, now.”

Your eyes don’t leave his, they can’t.

They fester in you, piercing darkness that you both mirror.

“Howdy neighbors! What’s goin’ on here?”

Both you and Invincible break eye contact. His head turns to look behind him, his grip loosening allowing you to sit up, his hands still rest on your wrist though.

It’s your neighbor, Holly.

You all blink, your mother is the first to speak, briskly walking past you both.

“Oh hi, Holly! How are you?”

“I’m just doin just fine, just wondering what all the commotion was about, ‘n I wanted to make sure y’all were okay!”

Holly’s hands clasp together, as she begins side stepping your mother to let herself inside.

“Oh! Uh, we’re just fine. Ms. Holly.” You try to raise a hand to wave at her but his hand won’t budge causing you to scowl, mouthing ‘let me go!’

“And who might this be? I ain’t seen you around here before!” Holly grinned, you’re not sure if you’re relieved or pissed, such a nosey neighbor.

“Oh..! Him? He’s.. uh just.-“

“Boyfriend.”

“Wha—“

His knee inches against your crotch, a muffled gasp slips through his fingers as his hand covers your mouth, mustering a disarming smile.

“Sorry, she gets so embarrassed when I actually say it. “

Your tongue slithered against his palm, his eyes wince with disgust but his smile remains constant. His knees push deep into your crotch, a shudder rings through your body.

“I — uh.. we were wrestling.. that’s the noise you heard earlier.”

“Oooh” Holly eyes light up, “Hmm, what’s with that get up? If I didn’t know any better looks like you're wearing that, what’s his name? Invin….”

Invincible’s eyebrows twitch; you take the opportunity to bite his fingers making him yank away.

“Yeah, you mean Invincible! He’s a big fan boy, aren’t you?”

His eyes shoot darts at you, his smile disappears as he faces you.

Your mother pipes up, “We— uh, just got back from the comic con in town! So, he was dressed up! And that’s why I’m so beat up looking, yup!”

“Aww, you two are a bunch of nerds, huh? How cute!”

“Yup.” You let out a high-pitched laugh, “Hey, sweetheart. Help me up, would ya?”

His teeth graze his lips as his mouth twitches into a quick frown, “Sure can, baby.”

He damn near yanks your arm out of its socket as he pulls you to your feet, you trip over your own body, but Invincible steadies you, his hands gripping your waist as you find your balance.

His lips grace your ears in a seemingly loving gesture to your neighbor.

“If you think I’m goin’ to let you leave my grasp after the shit you pulled?”

His fingers squish into supple skin, strained air hisses through your throat,

He pulls back to gaze upon you, lips slightly apart, your heart fluttering in unnatural rhythm.

A snort fills the air as you feel heat rise to your cheeks under his watchful eyes. What are mere seconds feels like hours before he turns to face Holly once more.

“My name is Mark, Miss Holly. Pleasure to meet you.” His hand stretches out to her as the other rest comfortably on your waist, tucking you practically under his arms.

Holly grasps it before he bends down to kiss it, winking at her.

Fucking bastard.

“Ooh, you sure know how to pick em’, neighbor! I like this one.” Holly’s giggle makes bile rise from your throat but you chew it down.

“Ha, yup sure do..” You pat his chest, grinning at Holly.

“So, Holly..” Your mom’s voice snaps Holly out of that cutesie reverie, “We’re about to go inside so—“

“Oh! Yes, that’s what I also wanted to say! Remember, the neighborhood get-together is starting soon, so I wanted to give your complementary picnic blankets!”

Holly skips over to your mom, pulling two fluffy blankets from her purse before plopping them in her hands.

“Oh, um! Holly I’m.. well since inv— Mark! Is here I’m not sure we’ll be able to come..!”

“Aww well, I’m sure he’d wanna join, it’s fun for the whole family! Right, Mark?”

You clear your throat before attempting to speak,

“Well, H—“

His hand squeezes your hips, wince of pain oozes down your spine, making your knees almost buckle. You lean on Mark for support; he welcomes your weakness.

“Yeah! I’d love to go, but I definitely need to change out of … this costume, heh. Come on baby.. let’s... refreshen up inside, hm?”

Your eyes muster as much displeasure as they can as ushers you to the garage door.

“Wait!”

Your mom's panicked shrill spooks Holly, as she looks between you to her,

“Don’t worry, we won’t be too long. Right?”

Mark’s unnerving smile irks your mother.

“Yeah, it’ll be quick, mom. Promise..”

Your words heave out of you, your lips uptick into smile, trying to ease your mom's anxiety as Mark drags you into the hallway.

Mark flips you against the wall, pinning you by your waist, as he towers.

“You know I was jokin’ when I said you wanted to fuck me. Didn’t think it was true.”

“Fuck you!”

“Mmm, really wishing it into existence, huh, darling?”

“Fuck yo— you don’t get to call me that!”

“Aww, but your mommy does? Why can’t I? Hm?”

You throw a right hook, which is easily caught and pinned next to your head. “It’s crazy how making you horny just makes you sooo weak.”

Your ears burn with shame, “What— what the hell are you on about, dude?!”

His knee rest just under your crotch again, bumping ever so slightly.

“Your mom’s still out there, as that— what’s ..that bitch’s name again? Holly? Havin’ to listen to Holly’s incessant yapping worried about her child being beaten to a pulp. But really, you’re in here about to get your back blown out. Isn’t that funny?”

His knee grinds into you, light pressure, enough to spark a little pleasure, not enough to get off.

Your hand free hand shoots to his shoulder to push him away. But that’s not what happens, your nails dig into his shoulder as you grind back into his knee, chasing more simulation.

Your mouth twitches as you reach his eyes, fury meets with lust.

“Shit, look at you.. all wound up like this? Are you always this sensitive?”

His words growl against your neck as his teeth nip against your skin.

“Shut up.”

“Don’t wanna.”

His tongue leaves a long stride of saliva up your throat before sucking and your hips stutter as the hickey forms.

“Ah! Not there, you asshole!”

“Shut up, you’re not the one in control right now.”

Strings of saliva fall against your hot skin as he admires his handiwork, his fingertips brush against the blooming bruise, a low involuntary rumble levels out of you as you track his movements.

“So fuckin’ hot. Open your legs f’me.”

Your head twist away from him, the chagrin of it all has you gulping for words.

“Come on, be a good slut for me.”

Eons pass as your legs inch open, your eyes can’t meet his anymore, all that rage replaced with guilt, with desire.

“Look at that. Is that a wet spot in your pants already?”

“I— ..I don’t”

“You don’t, you don’t what?” Mark mocks you, his fingers fiddle with your waist band.

“G-god! Just get on with it.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

“Wh-..what are you, the tone police? Just.. fuck, just fuck me already. If you’re gonna do it, do it!”

“Beg.”

“I—... I am not begging!”

“Damn, I guess I should go ahead and call for backup.”

Your eyes widen as you neck snaps back to trace his features.

“What?”

“I mean, I know where you live now, and your mom? She’s gotten away with a lot of shit over the years. She’s like you, slippery. Imagine the praise I’ll get for catching her, imagine the years she’ll get for all the stolen merch.”

Your eyes search his for doubt, none found.

“Please..” Your eyes cast downwards.

“Hm?” You hear his grin forming.

“Please..fu..”

“Come on, you’ve been sayin’ it to me all day. You can do it.”

“Ple— please fuck me..”

His growl of approval has your body shivering as his hand shoves down your waistband.

Your body jolts, his fingers slither to your clit.

“Invincible!” Your hands settle on his shoulders again your head struggles to stay upright.

“Mark.”

“H—huh?”

“Name’s Mark, scream that instead of invincible.”

“I’m not callin’ you a fake ass name, Invinc—..!”

“Good, cause it’s not fake.”

“Wait. You really told Holly, your real name? How fucking stupid are you!”

A sharp gasp keeps you from hurling more insults as his fingers pinch your clit.

“Sure fuckin’ did, don’t worry bout forgettin’ it either, You’ll be screamin’ it in a minute.”

His fingers don’t ease you in, they’re coarse as he rubs harsh circles against your aching pearl, a whimper continually rips through your throat as Mark peppers it with bites and slobber.

His other hand roams your body, shifting itself under your top and into your bra, the swell of your breast fits perfectly in his hand as he pinches your nipples, and a burst of moans tremble through your mouth as he tweaks your pebbled buds.

“Yeah, let me hear those slutty moans.”

“Invincibl—“

The stinging pain of Mark’s teeth sinking into your shoulder makes your hips buck against him as you whine. Your nails dig into his skin, trying to mirror the pain he’s inflicting.

“It’s Mark.”

“Fuc—fuck you...”

His chest crush against yours, your arms weakly try to push away as his hand snatches your chin down to look at him.

“Open.”

You squint, a silent challenge. His fingers press harder against your clit, you bite your lip as a moan threaten to pry your lips open.

“Stubborn, huh? Fine.” His voice was flat, unimpressed with your sudden reigniting confidence.

Mark’s fingers travel down your lips, spreading the growing slick down to the opening of your cunt.

The feeling leaves goosebumps crawling underneath your skin.

A horrifying, sinking sensation that leaves you shuddering in breaths.

His eyes bore into you,. Watching. Observing every twitch of your lips, your panicked inhales. His fingers trace circles around your entrance before ramming two fingers into your hole.

Your head whacks the wall; a crack forms under the divot you’ve made against it. Your mouth stretched as you pound your fist against his chest. Your back arches as his fingers stretch open your cunt, “Invic—Mark!”

He seizes the chance; his lips hold yours captive as his tongue shoves down your throat, drool drips down your chin as your pink muscle weakly fights back.

Your vision grows spotty as the air from your lung wheezes out of you. Your hands squeeze his shoulders as muffled whimpers are swallowed whole by him.

Your silent plea of mercy are heard as the audible pop of your lips separating fills the room.

Your eyelashes flutter, your pupils dilate stare at him, as your rhythmic pant flows out of your swollen lips.

“Fuck. Look atcha. I’ve barely done anything, and you’re in shambles.”

“You’re fuckin cra—ah..!”

His fingers curl in your sweet spot, “Hm? What was that?”

“Mar..mark!”

“Yeah. That’s better.”

Your pants are ruined, more of your slick trickles down as his fingers pump, there's an undeniable, wet shlick your pussy makes as his digits are plugged into you over and over.

Your knees buckle as you slump back, mumbling his name like a mantra, as he continues to bully your aching hole,

“Mark! Mark— pleas..ah!”

“Please what? Is this all it takes? One fingerbang and you’re ready to surrender? Fuckin’ weak.”

A pathetic whimper sobs shakes through your body as he shoves you harder into the wall, his fingers gaining a new angle, sinking deeper into your cunt.

“Be a good fuckin’ whore and cum for me, seems to me that’s the only thing you’re good for.”

Your hand raises; your nails scrape his cheek as you slap him.

“ ‘m I’m not— mhn! Not weak!”

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest, his thumb finds your clit again, rotating those rough waves of pleasure.

“Sh—I can’t!”

“Thhhattt‘s it, on cum on these fuckin’ fingers,”

You feel euphoric as that delicious hot pressure bubbles from your core, your eyes roll into your skull as his psychotic laugh echoes through your mind and a rapturous wave of pleasure is replaced with overwhelming dread as he doesn’t stop.

Your hips jerk involuntarily as his fingers drills you through your high.

“Mhm! Maarrk! Plea—! Sto..ah!”

“Come on, give me ‘nother”

“Nooo..!” Your fingers grip his wrist, as your head shakes furiously.

“You can take it, you’re not weak remember?”

“ ‘m not!”

“Good. Take it then.”

The squelch of your cunt is all you can hear as Mark’s lips captures yours, as your body tenses, your head attempts to pull away from his.

His free arm grasps the back of your neck your lips smash together, stealing your breath.

Your legs give out as your second orgasm hits you like a truck.

A Mark-shaped truck.

“That’s it, fall apart.”

Mark’s fingers stretch your cunt out with one last stroke, your hole twitches around nothing as he pulls away.

“All fucked out now, hm?”

A soft growl rumbles from you,

“Nothing to say?”

His tongue glides up his arm, encircling his fingertips as your juices mixed with his saliva as you watch him deep throat his fingers.

“Gross.”

Your arms wobble as you use the wall to inch yourself up. Your feet trip as you try to make your way into your room.

Mark snatches you up before your ass hits the floor.

“Fallin’ for me already?”

“Oh my god, fuck off!”

“Didn’t your mommy teach you manners?”

The garage door whips open as your mom screams your name.

“Speak of the devil.” Marks brows raise,

“Could I get some clothes, lady? Can’t show to the neighborhood bash in my ‘wrestling gear’.”

“You—“

“It’s okay, Mom. I’m fine, you should go get the clothes. Maybe we still have some of dad’s old clothes?”

Your mother’s face lights up in anger.

“I am not giving him your fath—“

“Please.. mom?”’

“Baby, bu—“

Mark’s costume wrinkles as you grip the material, his hands mirror yours, hands stroking your waist, unwavering smile.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. He— he won’t hurt me.”

A silent signal of trust.

Your mom obeys, brushing past you both, a glance over her shoulder before vanishing into the hallway.

Your eyes settle upon him again, scowl plays on your features as a smirk played across his.

“Why are you still here? To torture us?”

He tuts, “Why so morbid? I just wanna be your pretend boyfriend for a bit, babes. Have a little fun, won’t you?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

His eyes lower, flicking between to your lips then back to your eyes, your breath holds as his thumb brushes your bottom lip.

“Here.”

You both jump as your mother’s voice sliced through tension.

Your mom’s arms outstretched, your dad's clothes neatly folded in her hands.

“Bathroom is down the hall, door to the left, get cleaned up there.”

Mark turns on his heels, his hand hovers over the clothes, grin playing on his lips as he leaned,

“Thank you, mom.”

His head turns to you in an owlish manner, “I’ll back back, babe.”

You stand next to your mom as you watch him skip down the hallway, the creak of door shutting sends rush of release.

Your mother’s arms wrap around you hastily,

“Are you okay, baby? Her hands stroke your cheek, moving your head, stretching your neck.

“Oh, these bruises..! Did he—?”

Your face feels hot as your mother runs her fingers over your hickies, you usher her hands away, cover your neck as you avoid her gaze.

“It’s fine, mom! We uh.. talked things through. Af—after a bit…”

Your mother’s eyes trace the new crack forming in the wall.

“I see..”

Her eyes snap back to you, “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Just wants to go the block party with me? He said if I don’t .. do what he wants he’ll rat us out.”

“Shit.”

Your brows fly up, hearing your mother cuss, is unprecedented, your hand rubs her chin as she exhales.

“Okay. Plan, we do what we he wants to today, then we get the hell out of dodge and move base again.”

You bit your lip,

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

“I just don’t know what he wants. Why he’s toying with us..”

Your mom tilts her head back, her eyes close.

“My guess..He wants to be entertained.”

“What’s a man gotta to do get some food? Maybe we should head to the block party early, babes.”

Your father’s clothes fit him surprisingly well. He almost looked.. like a regular well adjusted human.

Piercings now adorned his face as well.

A brow piercing, double looped ear piercing, and snake bites.

“You have piercings?” Your face quirks to the side as you scan his face.

“Yeah, take em out when I’m doing patrols, why you like?”

His grin makes your temperature rise.

“Shut up.”

…

Part 2

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 9)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves. SOTR SPOILERS

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 8

After the burned plot of land sits barren for a while, Y/N returns to visit. Three headstones are all that remain of what had once been Tyson’s home. She used to cry there, to grieve. But now she does neither, moving through her days completely numb. A ghost of the girl she had been.

Fucking Haymitch is the only time she feels anything and she tells him so.

“That’s not good.” He admits, “you should probably take something.”

“I don’t want drugs, I want you.” Y/N tells him, “that’s the only thing that helps.”

Haymitch sighs, “come here, angel.” God, he’s ruined her. Or maybe the world ruined her and he’s picking up the pieces. It doesn’t really matter, because he’s inside her now. Whether it’s wrong or right. He doesn’t know, or frankly care.

She beckons his lips down to meet hers, sighing into his mouth.

“How’s this?”

“Perfect.”

“Tell me,” Haymitch murmurs, “tell me how it feels.”

“So fucking good.” Y/N pants. “Like you care about me, like I’m not alone.”

Oh, you sweet thing. Haymitch cradles her cheek in his hand. You sweet, beautiful, wonderful, broken thing. “I do. I care about you.”

Y/N nods.

“More than anyone in the world.”

Her hands tangle in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Everything I do is for you.”

“Haymitch,” she whimpers, squeezing his cock so goddamn tight he has no choice but to follow her over the edge of bliss.

Grunting as he tilts her hips upward.

“Fuck!” She’s twitching beneath him.

Haymitch catches his breath, stilling her movements.

“Please.”

“Shhhh.” He hushes her. “Just breathe.”

She needs him to move, to do something.

Haymitch rocks against hers once, experimentally. To see if she can take it, if he can. Every inch of him a live wire.

“I need you.” She admits. Not just for this, she needs him all the time.

“I need you too, angel.” He’s fucking her again, slower now. Savoring her, cherishing her. Worshipping her. Because for the first time in a long time…Haymitch wants to live. And it scares the hell out of him.

————————————————————————

They each have a place, one they gravitate toward when the other isn’t looking. Truth is, Haymitch is always looking. As long as he can see Y/N, she is safe. He can make her safe.

“Sun’s down.”

Y/N startles at the sound of her husband’s voice.

“You should come home.”

Y/N dries her eyes, in a feeble attempt to conceal her tears. “Yeah.”

“You ok?” Haymitch asks, coming to stand beside Tyson’s grave, where she’s kneeling.

“I don’t know.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Haymitch plops down beside her in the charred grass.

“I’m never going to be me again.”

“You’re still you.”

“I mean like the me that I was when he knew me.” Y/N explains, “it’s like I’m…outgrowing him. Not just because I’m technically older now. I’m turning into someone he’ll never know.” She inhales, “and it scares me.”

Haymitch nods. “I lost my partner too.” My sister. My sweetheart. Lou Lou and Wyatt.

“Yeah.” That doesn’t make it any better somehow.

“I lost everyone.” My love, my Ma…Sid.

“I know, Haymitch. I didn’t mean to make it seem like my losses are greater than yours.” She still has her parents and Madge.

He bumps her shoulder. “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

Y/N blinks at him. “You said we should go home.”

“It’s not too far out of the way.”

“Is it your house?” Y/N asks, taking his hand and allowing him to help her stand. “Where it used to be?”

“Not quite.” Haymitch slides his fingers through hers as they trudge past the tree line into the woods. Not his house, but one of the people he considered home.

“Lenore Dove,” Y/N understands, immediately.

“I think she’s still around,” Haymitch tells her. “But that’s crazy, isn’t it?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, “I think that’s really beautiful, Haymitch.”

He tosses an arms around Y/N’s shoulder and she leans into him.

————————————————————————

If there is a such thing as contentment, they’ve found it. In their house in Victors’ Village. It doesn’t stop the sadness. But they find respite here, in each other. Tangled up on the couch watching old films on the projection screen.

The mail slot at the front door creaks open and shut, sending a crisp, white envelope onto the entryway floor. Y/N jumps, pulling her head from Haymitch’s lap, into a sitting position.

“It’s ok,” Haymitch gentles her back down, “just mail. I’ll get it in the morning.”

“It’s late for mail.” She yawns.

“Mhm.” Haymitch agrees, stroking her hair with the hand that isn’t clutched in hers.

The envelope is all but forgotten as they eventually head up the stairs for bed.

Y/N nearly slips on it the next morning. Taking the letter addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy to the counter. They’re probably due to film again, but that can wait until Haymitch wakes up.

She starts with her morning coffee. Deciding on pancakes for breakfast, with a side of bacon and eggs. Haymitch does more than half of the cooking, so breakfast in bed will be nice for him.

He’s too quick to come down the stairs though, joining Y/N at the table instead. “This looks amazing. Thank you.”

Y/N smiles.” You’re welcome.”

“Did you grab the letter from last night? I didn’t see it.”

“Mmm,” Y/N hums, around a mouthful of bacon. Stealing it from the countertop. “Here. I almost killed myself by stepping on it this morning.”

Haymitch chuckles, tearing it open like a bandage, to get it over with. He skims the words, finding nothing about recordings or the camera’s at Y/N’s house. The second time, he examines it more closely. All the blood draining from his face.

“Haymitch?” Y/N reaches for him. The pounding in his ears is so loud he hardly hears her.

Haymitch drops the letter onto the table between them, storming off.

Y/N hesitates to reach for it, trembling as she does.

‘Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy,

I hope this letter finds you well. The success of your marriage thus far will surely be celebrated for years to come. Within the year, we do so hope for an announcement regarding the expansion of your family.

At this time, contraceptive therapy from the Capitol will cease, to aid in your efforts. You are to notify the Capitol, by mail or other correspondence, once you have successfully conceived. My personal congratulations will be in order.

Best regards,

President Snow’

Y/N follows the sound of Haymitch’s cursing, to the sitting room. “That’s not fair,” she snarls. “Don’t fucking leave me alone in this, it’s not fair.”

“Y/N-” Haymitch scrubs a hand over his face, unable to look at her.

“No! We just figured this out, you can’t take it back.”

This. Being together. “I’m not taking anything back.” I can’t.

“It’s not fucking fair! You can’t just leave me when I need you.” I can’t bring a child into this world. Not with the games. Not like this.

“You’re right. It’s not and I’m sorry. I should never have made that deal with Snow. I should have thought of something else. I should’ve-”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“It is my fault. This is all my fault.” The marriage, the tapes, the fire. Snow’s letter.

That’s why he ran. Why he’s skirting her like a wounded animal. “Don’t say that.”

“I trapped you here with me. I ruined any chance you ever had at freedom. I-”

Y/N closes the distance between them, taking his face in her hands before he can move away. “Haymitch…you saved me.”

Still he can’t meet her eyes, offering only a shake of his head.

“You saved me,” she insists. “I don’t give a shit if you believe that or not.” No one else does. “But I’ll keep saying it until you’re ready to hear it. You. Saved. Me.”

“Angel,” his voice breaks, “please.” Please leave me to wallow in misery. Please don’t do this to me.

“Please.” Y/N echoes. “Please don’t shut me out.”

Haymitch cuts her off, sealing his mouth over hers. Because it is physically painful not to touch her; comfort her. “Give me a minute. I need to think. That’s all.” He murmurs against her lips.

Y/N nods, kissing him again.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He pecks her lips again, then her forehead in parting. Taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time, with a bottle of whiskey in hand.

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00 @solacestyles @inky-sun @dadbodfanatic-x @sandorcleganeslutt @indigoashh @mustainelove @darkened-writer @ch3rrybutterfly @boredomquest @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @kisskittenn @kwllakka @feeblemindedfool @oopsieikilledan @that-one-fangirl69 @just-levyy @thisisthepartwhereishutup @alixxhere @quackitys-amor @pepelachanel @lurkingsparrow @faithalsip09 @cwallace02sblog @animaloversammy @peachiesnsilk @libbyaller @juiceboxfullofslime @libra-2409 @heidiland05 @evansorry @caraxes-syrax @pookiei-bookie

[caniaskwhoiscallingplease]

I have some thoughts about the next to normal proshot that I need to share because I have never been less normal about any musical ever and no one I know irl has seen it. Spoilers below if you care about that sort of thing.

The whole plot happens because Diana wants to connect with Natalie! She sees her reaction to Henry and wants to relate to her and feel how she feels, so she dumps her meds and it's only when she acknowledges Natalie in therapy that she really starts making progress. It's also only when Nat tells the truth of their lives that Diana starts to remember it. Natalie really is the driving force of the story.

Gabe corrects Dan on Henry's name! In my mind this means either Diana's subconscious pays more attention than Natalie thinks she does or Dan's guilt extends to how little attention he pays to Natalie.

In I am the One, Gabe only speaks after Dan says "could you leave me" to Diana. Gabe really is Dan's fears in that moment, not Diana's, and it's about what will happen if Di leaves and he is left alone with his grief. The next time we see Gabe around Dan is after the suicide attempt, and he's refusing to hear his fears even when they're screaming beside him. "I've never had to face a world without her by my side". When she does leave him officially that is when he is finally able to acknowledge (and name!) his grief and he is terrified.

The Break is Diana finally taking her mental health into her own hands. She's not just trying to be 'normal' for Dan any more, as his 'normal' is ignoring Gabe. The staging is just amazing, showing how she acknowledges Gabe in a healthy way, instead of relying on him to get her through the day.

The hand touch! When Nat sees her dad (Dan "it's going to be good" Goodman) crying in the dark, Natalie feels a small part of the grief that has been haunting her family. She has always known about Gabe, but she didn't overtly feel the grief of the loss until she sees it in her dad.

The references to weather throughout are crazy, but I don't see people talking about references to the light/night! At the very beginning, Diana is waiting up for Gabe. She says it's the seventh night this week (obviously insomnia due to her manic state) but also because when Gabe was a baby they would stay up all night to make sure he made it through. During the last song, Dan finally acknowledges those nights "night after night, we'd sit and wait for the morning light, but we've waited far too long". Then Diana comes in with "day after day, wishing all our cares away, trying to fight the things we feel but some hurts never heal, some ghosts are never gone" she's again acknowledging that she doesn't need to be normal! And she can live with her illness and her grief in the daylight.

And that's it!! Maybe now that I've put all my thoughts out there I can stop thinking about this musical but unlikely.

[vivsinkpot]

Zoom In, Don’t Glaze Over: How to Describe Appearance Without Losing the Plot

You’ve met her before. The girl with “flowing ebony hair,” “emerald eyes,” and “lips like rose petals.” Or him, with “chiseled jawlines,” “stormy gray eyes,” and “shoulders like a Greek statue.”

We don’t know them.

We’ve just met their tropes.

Describing physical appearance is one of the trickiest — and most overdone — parts of character writing. It’s tempting to reach for shorthand: hair color, eye color, maybe a quick body scan. But if we want a reader to see someone — to feel the charge in the air when they enter a room — we need to stop writing mannequins and start writing people.

So let’s get granular. Here’s how to write physical appearance in a way that’s textured, meaningful, and deeply character-driven.

1. Hair: It’s About Story, Texture, and Care

Hair says a lot — not just about genetics, but about choices. Does your character tame it? Let it run wild? Is it dyed, greying, braided, buzzed, or piled on top of her head in a hurry?

Good hair description considers:

Texture (fine, coiled, wiry, limp, soft)

Context (windblown, sweat-damp, scorched by bleach)

Emotion (does she twist it when nervous? Is he ashamed of losing it?)

Flat: “Her long brown hair framed her face.”

Better: “Her ponytail was too tight, the kind that whispered of control issues and caffeine-fueled 4 a.m. library shifts.”

You don’t need to romanticise it. You need to make it feel real.

2. Eyes: Less Color, More Connection

We get it: her eyes are violet. Cool. But that doesn’t tell us much.

Instead of focusing solely on eye color, think about:

What the eyes do (do they dart, linger, harden?)

What others feel under them (seen, judged, safe?)

The surrounding features (dark circles, crow’s feet, smudged mascara)

Flat: “His piercing blue eyes locked on hers.”

Better: “His gaze was the kind that looked through you — like it had already weighed your worth and moved on.”

You’re not describing a passport photo. You’re describing what it feels like to be seen by them.

3. Facial Features: Use Contrast and Texture

Faces are not symmetrical ovals with random features. They’re full of tension, softness, age, emotion, and life.

Things to look for:

Asymmetry and character (a crooked nose, a scar)

Expression patterns (smiling without the eyes, habitual frowns)

Evidence of lifestyle (laugh lines, sun spots, stress acne)

Flat: “She had a delicate face.”

Better: “There was something unfinished about her face — as if her cheekbones hadn’t quite agreed on where to settle, and her mouth always seemed on the verge of disagreement.”

Let the face be a map of experience.

4. Bodies: Movement > Measurement

Forget dress sizes and six packs. Think about how bodies occupy space. How do they move? What are they hiding or showing? How do they wear their clothes — or how do the clothes wear them?

Ask:

What do others notice first? (a presence, a posture, a sound?)

How does their body express emotion? (do they go rigid, fold inwards, puff up?)

Flat: “He was tall and muscular.”

Better: “He had the kind of height that made ceilings nervous — but he moved like he was trying not to take up too much space.”

Describing someone’s body isn’t about cataloguing. It’s about showing how they exist in the world.

5. Let Emotion Tint the Lens

Who’s doing the describing? A lover? An enemy? A tired narrator? The emotional lens will shape what’s noticed and how it’s described.

In love: The chipped tooth becomes charming.

In rivalry: The smirk becomes smug.

In mourning: The face becomes blurred with memory.

Same person. Different lens. Different description.

6. Specificity is Your Superpower

Generic description = generic character. One well-chosen detail creates intimacy. Let us feel the scratch of their scarf, the clink of her earrings, the smudge of ink on their fingertips.

Examples:

“He had a habit of adjusting his collar when he lied — always clockwise, always twice.”

“Her nail polish was always chipped, but never accidentally.”

Make the reader feel like they’re the only one close enough to notice.

Describing appearance isn’t just about what your character looks like. It’s about what their appearance says — about how they move through the world, how others see them, and how they see themselves.

Zoom in on the details that matter. Skip the clichés. Let each description carry weight, story, and emotion. Because you’re not building paper dolls. You’re building people.

[livingdxadwriter]

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett X F!Reader

Summary: you tell Logan not to hold back anymore. And who is he to deny his sweet girlfriend anything? This is just porn without plot

Wrote this with Xmen/X2 Logan in mind but you may picture whichever Logan suits your needs

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it my children), oral (f receiving), fingering, soft rough sex, Logan talks you through it, creampie, choking, the claws make an appearance (duh), Logan is obsessed with his girl, established relationship

WC: 3.2K

A/N: SOMETHING SHORT SHE SAID. I need to be put down. I am feral over this man. Seeing DP&W got me acting tf up. It put me back into my Logan obsession so I rewatched all of his movies. And now I need him. So here you go. Might write more with him soon. For now is this.

Follow my reading blog to stay updated with my works if you’d like to see more @midnightreadinglibrary

You were sweet. You were, oh, so sweet. Such a pretty sweet thing. You were so going to be the death of him. Playing with the strings of his sanity, of his composure. Worst of all, you were doing nothing at all to make him go insane. Other than love and care for him that was.

He tried, he really did, he tried to keep himself under control when he was with you, and he was doing a pretty good job of it so far. But god, today, today you were going to make him loose his fucking mind. He had decided to visit you, unannounced he stopped by your apartment. And what did he find? You, in the kitchen, in nothing but a red flannel, his red flannel. Speechless, he was. 

Logan stood in silence, blinking slowly as his eyes took in every part of you with growing intensity. Your legs were bare, your ass barely covered by the length of his shirt and you seemed rather happy like this. Is this what you did when he wasn’t around? And why did the sight of you suddenly wake deep within him an overwhelming need to ruin you? 

Almost as if the intensity of his presence got your absentminded attention, you turned your head to find him standing in the entryway with an unreadable expression. And though a little bit flustered by his unannounced visit, you welcomed him with a soft smile.

“Hi Logan.” You greeted him with glee, all but skipping over to him to greet him properly, of course. You were standing on the ends of your toes and throwing your arms over his broad shoulders while he just stood in ominous silence, only a deep exhale leaving his lips. “Are you okay baby?”

“Yeah.” His voice strained with restraint as he fought the deep urge to throw you over the nearest flat surface. Instead he simply placed his hands on your hips, squeezing unevenly as he gave you an eyebrow raise. “New shirt?”

“Oh,” Your lips fell open in a bit of embarrassment and you laughed softly, flustered as you looked down at the shirt that was clearly not yours. It kind of smelled like him still. “Yeah so, my washer broke, I don’t know what happened to it, and I couldn’t find anything comfortable so… Does it bother you?”

Did it bother him? The only thing that was bothering him was his already hard cock straining against his jeans. 

“A pretty girl in my clothes? I would be fucking stupid.” 

The way his words left his mouth made you laugh. But the look in those hazel eyes was anything but humorous. Animalistic and full of need. Your lips curled up into a smile as he leaned down to crash his lips against yours. Messily and intensely his lips moved against yours as his hands squeezed and touched everywhere he could, as if he didn’t know which part of you he craved to feel more. 

“You’d look prettier on your back though.” He muttered against your mouth, lightly nipping at your bottom lip. You were more than happy to comply.

A string of giggles left your lips as his lips tickled over your stomach. You laid flat on the soft covers as Logan settled between the warmth of your thighs. He pried your legs open, fingers digging into your skin as his sharp canines lightly nipped at the plush flesh on your inner thigh. You gasped, though overwhelmed with excitement.

“Logan.” You scolded him, knowing you would have a mark there, but the sound of your voice turned into a delicious whine when he pressed his nose into your panties, inhaling that oh so intoxicating scent of yours. 

An almost animalistic growl rumbled in his chest, “I’ve been thinkin’ about this sweet pussy all day.” He pressed a hard kiss to your hole, the bridge of his nose bumping your clothed clit. The sudden pressure had you gasping for air, your chest pounding with anticipation.

Your panties were off your body and thrown over his shoulder in a split second, his lips latching on to your clit with reckless urgency. One would think this man hadn’t seen you in weeks, when he had seen, and taken you only two nights ago. Alas, that was one the things you loved the most about Logan, his unending need to touch you, to feel you, to be all over you. You thought he would get tired eventually, but his drive was almost animalistic. He never had enough, though he often held back for your sake. 

His tongue lapped at your pussy with abandon. From your hole to your clit, circling and sucking before diving back into your walls. Squirming, you were chasing his mouth with your hips, body overcome with pleasure as he worked your walls. It annoyed him at times, the way your hips moved and lifted off the mattress with sensitivity as he fucked you with his tongue, when his nose brushed against your clit. With a frustrated grunt, he grabbed a hold of your thighs and pressed your knees against your stomach, holding you down and spreading you open for him to do as he pleased. 

“You squirm too fucking much.” He huffed, but there was a slight bit of amusement laced in his tongue.

Your response came in the form of a whimper, a pathetic sound that only grew louder when two thick fingers replaced his tongue inside your wet hole. He looked up at you with pure primal need as his fingers worked your tight walls, crooking against that one spot that had you crying.

“Please, please Logan.” You didn’t know what you were pleading for. Mercy? Sweet release? To be ruined? You didn’t know. 

Logan raised an amused eyebrow at you, wet lips curled up into a tiny smirk as he moved his tongue back to your clit. He licked and sucked to match each delicious drag of his fingers. The sounds leaving him were just as filthy as the things he was doing to you, groaning and grunting into your pussy as he ate you like a starving man. 

It was no surprise that he had you shaking and crying, overcome with pleasure, eyes blurry with tears, your release rapidly approaching. You latched on to his hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as your pathetic sounds filled the room. 

“That feels so—ugh—feels so good—please.” Were you making any sense? No. Did he care? Fuck no. Seeing you so desperate, so consumed with pleasure, a complete and utter mess for him, it snapped something in him. Deep inside the most perveted and secluded corner of his mind, he liked it. And though he shouldn’t, he wanted more. 

Your release was hard and sudden, your loud sounds were almost as overwhelming as the feeling of his tongue still lapping at your sensitive clit. You were writhing on the mattress, nearly crying as you had no option but to take it, it wasn’t like you could run away, not with the way his free held you down, one hand of his was stronger than all of you combined. All you could do was sob and pull at his hair as he dragged out your orgasm. 

“L-Logan.” You pleaded weakly, throat dry as you pushed yourself up on your elbows, chest glistening with a layer of sweet, lightly clinging to the fabric of Logan’s shirt. All you could see was his dark hair before his eyes met yours. The look behind his eyes was indescribable but it had you clenching you around nothing when his fingers left you. 

Your thighs twitched in aftershock when his mouth left you. You felt him press his forehead against your thighs, his hardened breath fanning against your hot skin for a long second. He needed a second to calm down, keep himself under control, he couldn’t let his primal instincts get the best of him.

You ran your fingers along his face, threading through the hair along his cheek and you silently ushered him up. He complied, in an instant settling between your open legs to find your mouth again. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, it was all so much for your clouded mind. His fingers were on your hair as his mouth took yours with growing urgency. You could feel him through the roughness of his jeans, brushing against your clit in ways that made you dizzy. You needed him, and you needed him bad. You reached down, trembling fingers fumbling with his belt, but before you could undress him he was pulling back, rough fingers holding your wrist.

“Hold on, just hold on a minute.” He was breathing hard, chest pounding as he looked at your confused face. 

“Wait, why? What's wrong?” God, you were too sweet, too kind for him, he couldn’t do it. 

“I just… Shit.” He closed his eyes, jaw set as tried to control his clouded mind, but he could only do so much to restrain all of the filthy things he craved to do to you. The way you were looking up at him, eyes big with concern, gentle hands holding his face, preventing him from going anywhere. “I think we should stop. I should stop.”

“Oh… I mean.. We can stop whenever but.. Why? Did I do something wrong?” You were sitting up, and the sadness and disappointment in your pretty eyes made him curse at himself.

“No. No. Fuck, no. I’m the problem. I don’t think I can hold myself back anymore.” He finally admitted it, words leaving his chest with heaviness. Your face remained the same, confused.

“Well, why would you? I never asked you to.” It finally dawned on you what he meant, and you were unbothered, if anything the look on your face was of eagerness. With malice, you threw your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “I don’t want you to hold back with me.”

“Sweetheart..” He was warning you, voice rumbling in his chest as he closed his eyes, one last attempt to keep his composure before it was inevitably too late.

“I won’t break Logan. I trust you. And I want it.” Your last words came out with sharpness, a grueling intensity that had him groaning under his breath. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, almost as if to emphasize your point. And it was like a switch flipped in his head. 

With an uneven breath he was sitting up on his knees, white undershirt thrown to be forgotten somewhere in your room. And you were happily delighted as you watched him toss his belt aside and undo his jeans. He pulled his cock out of his pants with a strained groan and you were holding your breath in anticipation, legs open and welcoming him. His eyes were dark with pure raw desire as he settled between your legs, cock hard and heavy as he kicked the rest of his clothes off like it had insulted him.

“Don’t fucking hold back.” You snapped at him as he held himself up on his forearm, his other hand holding himself against your entrance. Your words shot straight to his cock and his lips curled up into a grin.

“Hold on, pretty.” He rumbled, chest heavy as he sank himself into your wet cunt in one single thrust.

Your lips fell open, eyes instantly rolling at the delicious feeling of his thick and heavy cock splitting you open. It was an intoxicating feeling you couldn’t get enough of; you were fucking sure he had ruined every other man for you. Not that it bothered you. 

The pace he set was grueling from the start, one hand braced on your pillow beside your head and the other on your thigh, rough fingers feeling up and down the skin as he drove his cock in and out of your walls. Sounds of pleasure left your lips almost immediately as the sting of his cock had you dragging your nails up and down his back, leaving red angry marks that healed in a split second. He absolutely adored the burning sensation your nails left on his skin, over and over. 

It was brutal, the way his hips drove you into the mattress as he fucked the life out of you. You did ask him to, you realized that perhaps your lack of restraint when it came to him would indeed be the end of you today, but at least you’d die happy by his cock. His forehead touched yours, eyes on your chest as he forced the buttons of his shirt open. His hand immediately cupped your breast, squeezing and he forced your body up and down on the mattress with each relentless snap of his hips. You cried out, head thrown back as your cunt squeezed his cock, unable to do much other than take everything he had to give you. His hand traveled up your chest to your exposed neck, fingers sprawled over your throat but not putting pressure. 

“Yes. Please, yes, do it.” Delirious, cock-drunk, fucked out, you might have been all of those things, but you were perfectly aware of him surrounding you, caging you in, consuming you. And you wanted all of it.

“Fuck, pretty.” His lips brushed yours as his fingers lightly squeezed your throat. He could feel the air leaving your tightening throat, and the way you squeezed his cock in response had him creasing his eyebrows with pleasure. “This what you wanted? You just wanted it rough, huh?”

You were nodding your head, breathless as blood rushed to your face, the lack of blood flow making you all the more delirious. Absolutely lost, so deep within your pleasure that your brain wasn’t working anymore. All that was consuming your mind was Logan, his scent, his sounds, the tip of his cock brushing that spot that had you squirming. You didn’t even realize tears were coating your cheeks, so lost that your moans had turned into cries. 

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” The hand on your neck moved to swipe away your tears as he leaned down to kiss your cheek in an attempt to bring you back to reality, the gentle gesture a juxtaposition to the ruthless drag of his cock. “There’s not a single thought in that pretty head of yours, huh?”

He adjusted himself above you, his chest pressed against yours, thick hairs tickling your skin with each deep stroke. There was a bit of smugness on his pleasured expressions, seeing you so utterly out of it, his cock being the reason. Seeing such a sweet little thing coming completely undone by his hand gave him a sense of satisfaction that made his cock twitch. 

He held your face, watching the way your eyes rolled back with pleasure, the crease in your eyebrows and your soft lips parted as filthy sounds left you. It was the prettiest of things.

“It just feels so good, huh? Can’t even talk.” he huffed a laugh, his nose brushing against yours as his free hand found your swollen clit and you were gasping as your thighs shuddered, sweet release building. “Talk to me, pretty girl. Tell me how good it feels. ‘Cause this sure feels so fucking good to me.” 

“Mhmm!” It took your brain a long minute to register his words, it was damn near impossible to focus on anything when his cock was making you feel so good, when you could feel your release so close. “Feels so good—Please, need it. Logan please.”

Who was he to ever deny his sweet girl anything? 

Logan moved his free hand to one of your thighs, holding it and bending it so that one of your knees was damn near next to your head. He drilled into you, fucking you into the matress and rubbing harsh circles on your swollen clit until you were nothing but a shaking, sobbing mess, filled with the neverending bliss of your release. 

“That’s it, atta girl.” He pressed his lips to your bruised lips, swallowing the pathetic sounds of your orgasm as he continued to chase his own. Your release seeped through his cock as his hand left your clit. He braced himself on the pillow beside your head he continued to fuck you into his release. “You’re doing so well sweetheart, take it just like that.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you sobbed, the hairs at the base of his cock grazing your clit as he abused your hole. Desperate hands latched on to his hair as you held him, simply taking everything he had to give you. He was close, so incredibly close, composure completely gone from his body as he chased his release with selfish abandon. He dropped his face into your neck, sharp canines nipping at the soft skin, surely to leave a mark or two.

“Please Logan. Come in me. Please, I need it—” Though broken, in between pathetic whimpers you pleaded to him. And if he had any self-restraint left it was fucking gone.

The sound that rumbled in Logan’s chest was purely animalistic, a feral growl and the sound of metallic sharp claws rang in your ears next to your head. You gasped in pleasant surprise, moaning at the thought of him losing control like this. It should concern him, it should. But he couldn’t give one fuck. He coated your insides with his release, eyes closed and eyebrows creased into this twisted expression of rapture. With a couple final thrusts he pumped you full of himself until you were leaking around his cock. Only then did he still his pistoning hips. 

“Fuck.” You heard him grunt in your ear, followed by the sound of his claws sheathing back into his knuckles. Your eyes widened with aftershock and your wash chest was heavy as you panted. 

Logan lifted his head from your neck to look at you, heavy breaths leaving his chest as he tried to bring himself back to reality.

“I… I didn’t mean to..” He trailed off, though slightly apologetic as he caught a glimpse of the three punctured holes on your pillow, he did not regret it one bit. You were quickly shaking your head at him, a tired smile on your face.

“Don’t be. That was like, so hot.” You bit your lip, throwing your arms over his broad shoulders as you pulled him into a kiss. He hummed, hand beside your head as he brushed your hair out of your face. “You owe me some new pillows though.”

“Yeah? Might owe you more than that then.” A smug smirk replaced his concern as he rolled his hips, making you aware of his still hard cock, hot and heavy in your walls. You gasped, wide eyes meeting his own. “What? You thought I was done with you?” 

With a hold of your arm he flipped you on your stomach, the sudden movement making you whimper. But the thought of him taking you over and over sure had you eager in anticipation. Though as his cock sunk into your cunt once more you were beginning to wonder just how much your curiosity was going to cost you. Surely a whole day in bed tomorrow would be in order. He was so going to be the death of you. Little did you know, you were already going to be his.

[kitten4sannie]

antithesis

pairing: peter parker/venom! yunho x gf! reader

genre: spider man au, smut

summary: your boyfriend is going through a phase.

w.c: 3.3k (porn with a microscopic amount of plot)

warnings: dom! yunho, sub! reader, venom should have his own warning bc bro is NASTYY (so is yuyu 🤝🏻), partial mind manipulation? on yunho’s part? bc venom is in his head? idk, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, teasing, fingering, hand kink….,, SIZE KINK., manhandling, pussy eating, tongue kink, raw feral sex (doggy + missionary), bro has a monster cock, also monster fucking!! bc venom takes over <3, cum eating, breeding kink, bulge kink, dacryphilia, mind break, record breaking creampie

a/n: listen …….i LOVE venom, the things i would let venom do to me would set humanity back at least fifty years. NOW VENOM YUNHO ON THE OTHER HAND,, oh boy. boyyyy oh boy. i don’t think i have to explain myself when it comes to that combination bc this fic speaks for itself lol. are you curious now? why don’t you give it a peek then, hm? (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ and then lemme know what you thought of it pretty please? <3

song rec: new woman - lisa feat. rosalía (get it bc he’s a new man - bc of venom - 😼)

fictober 2024

“And just where have you been, Jeong Yunho?” you asked your boyfriend in a more teasing manner than anything, once he snuck in past the sliding glass door of the balcony, getting up from the couch you were waiting restlessly on. When he stood there silently just looking at you through the white eye-shaped sections of his mask, you pouted, nervously wrapping a lock of hair around your finger. “Just be honest with me and I won’t be mad, okay?” 

Despite the lack of sleep, you were ready for him this time. He wasn’t about to casually sneak in or out of the house another night that week without you catching him. Usually, you wouldn’t have been concerned because you were used to him being gone when there was crime taking place or a super villain that needed to be brought to justice, but recently…your boyfriend was acting strange. He was starting to become moody and secretive, opting to brush you off when you asked him about it. Yunho had even taken up using substances in his free time, finding him drunk or high off his ass in the apartment when you got home from work. The final straw was when you came home one night to find him in the kitchen with freshly dyed hair and new piercings he had given himself, a few empty boxes of black hair dye and bloody safety pins laying haphazardly on the kitchen counter. 

Yunho took off his mask and rubbed at his eyes like he was tired, leaving a bit of smeared eyeliner underneath them, before shoving his hands into the pockets of his frayed jacket, the one that was slightly zipped just enough to cover his iconic red suit. 

“She knows about us,” said the annoying parasite that had just recently made a home inside him. “We should eat her.”

“No, I’m not doing that,” Yunho grumbled, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

You walked up to him, gently putting a hand on his chest. “Yun, I just wanna know where you were at, that’s all. You know I respect your space,” you murmured, your pout growing slightly, your eyebrows upturned with concern. 

“She’s looking at us with those big round eyes again, Yunho,” Venom told his host, letting out a disgusting groan only he could hear. “It’s gonna make us hard. If we’re not going to eat her, let’s fuck her, at least.” 

“Mingi asked me to take care of some douchebags that had been causing trouble at that new club he works at. That’s all, baby,” Yunho replied softly, reaching down to press the back of his hand against your cheek, before cupping it. He noticed the teary look inside your doe eyes. “Hey, are you okay?” 

You nuzzled into his big warm hand, before reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck to hold your boyfriend close. “I’m fine…I’ve just been worried about you, Yun. You’ve been acting a bit…different.” 

“Let’s show her just how different we’ve become, Yunho,” Venom egged him on, knowing Yunho could feel just how much he wanted to break through the barrier of his host’s mind and take control. “She’ll love it.”

How could he possibly explain to you that he was always in a never-ending battle with a frightening otherworldly parasite that had found its way inside of him? You would be so scared and disgusted, you’d probably never trust him again. He couldn’t risk losing you, not when you were his only anchor to the normal life he desperately craved, and the first person he’s ever felt this strongly about. 

“I’m just going through a phase, I think,” Yunho expressed wholeheartedly, resting his hands around your waist, his thumbs slightly pressing into your hip bones through your sleep shirt, feeling just how delicate you truly were. You were so small compared to him, practically swimming in one of his band t-shirts that you regularly wore to bed; you were so tiny and cute, and…”Malleable,” Venom finished. Yunho couldn’t tell if the parasite was influencing all of his thoughts or if he was just that perverted. 

“Do you wanna talk about it, Yun?” You pressed yourself closer to Yunho, feeling his large hands enclose around your small waist, making you feel a bit dizzy. When he shook his head, you tilted yours, wondering if what you felt pushing against your middle was exactly what you thought it was. “Or, do you want to take me to bed?” 

It had felt like forever since Yunho had touched you, kissed you even. You had almost forgotten what it was like to feel him inside you, filling you up over and over again until his love spilled out. Just the thought alone made your body begin to overheat. Was it wrong of you to take his simple answer at face value? Should you have pushed the issue, instead of letting him push you back into the wall of the hallway? You weren’t sure, but you were just grateful that your boyfriend still wanted you like this. 

“Did punching those guys at the club make you this horny?” you asked playfully, a sudden shiver of pleasure shooting up your spine when Yunho’s warm hands snaked up underneath your shirt and began groping at your tits.

“So horny,” Yunho joked back, watching you instantly melt underneath his touch, a shaky exhale escaping his bobbing throat as he swallowed. 

 “Nnngh, I didn’t know fighting crime did it for you, Yun.” 

“Knowing I’m already getting your little pussy wet just from this is what’s doing it for me, baby,” he whispered into your ear, having to practically lower himself to your height just to do so, able to clearly hear the breathless moan that left your lips. Yunho was already breathing hard, his mind swimming with constant racing thoughts that all pertained to his pretty little girlfriend and what he was going to do to you, squishing your soft flesh in between his slender fingers, using his thumbs to rub your hardening nipples in teasing circles. 

It had felt like eternity since Yunho had allowed himself to feel you underneath his touch, to even simply look at you with unbridled lust. He wanted to see all of you, witness the way you completely opened yourself up to him. It was driving him insane. Was it selfish of him to give into temptation when there was something else living inside him? Something that he knew was taking even more pleasure in this than he was? He wasn’t exactly sure, but he knew it was far too late to stop now. 

“Let us see her tits, Yunho, they feel so nice inside our hands, we need to see,” Venom demanded, desperately shaking the bars of his figurative cage. 

When Yunho tugged your shirt up and over your tits, your gasp became muffled, your eyes widening as he stuffed the hem of the shirt into your mouth. You were going to close your legs to keep your arousal from spilling down your thighs, but your eager boyfriend pushed his larger one in between them. 

“You’re so pretty, angel,” Yunho cooed softly, admiring the way you began to grind your cunt against his thigh, despite the sheepish expression you offered him, a bit of drool escaping the corner of his mouth from witnessing such a display of pure desperation. “Look at you go…rubbing yourself all over my thigh like a horny little slut.” 

“N-not a slut,” you whimpered softly, his insult causing a fresh wave of slick to leak out onto Yunho’s torn jeans. “Just need you, Yuyu.” 

“Her breeding hole needs to be trained to handle my size. Do it now,” Venom growled into Yunho’s mind, growing more and more demanding by the second, very aware that his host was starting to lose control of himself. 

“Yeah? How about this?” Yunho pulled your panties to the side so that he could watch as your greedy cunt swallowed up one of his long, bony fingers to the knuckle. “Is that enough, baby?” 

“I meant with your human sized cock, you insufferable prick,” Venom chided, simply not understanding the pleasurable benefits that prolonged foreplay could offer being the uninhibited hothead that he was. 

Something about the way Yunho was taking his time unraveling you, the way he was drinking in the sight of your bare body with pure lust inside his eyes, with only a single digit plunged inside you so far made you pulse and squeeze around it. “F-full.”  

“But I barely fit one finger inside you, sweetheart. What’ll happen if I put another?” Yunho suddenly tugged your borrowed t-shirt up and over your head, leaning in close to your face to catch the way your breath hitched as soon as he slipped another finger inside, curling them just enough to hit your sweet spot each time he finger-fucked you, earning a few whiny moans from his beloved girlfriend. “Oh, that’s right. You turn into my little sex toy, don’t you?” 

“Y-esss, Yuyu, just for you, fuck,” you cried out, hooking your arms around his neck to keep yourself from completely melting into the floor. 

“That’s a good girl,” he groaned into your ear, quickly stuffing his slippery digits into you, incapable of getting Venom’s ungodly thoughts out of his head all the while. Fuck, he was feeling hot, dizzy. His head and cock were throbbing. He needed more. They needed more. He had no choice but to shove a third finger into you, your slick walls pulsating around him. “You think you’re feeling full now…just wait till my cock’s inside you.”

Gasping, your nails dug into his back through his clothes. “Oh my god, Yunho, give it to me, please, please, please,” you whined breathlessly into his neck, trembling in his arms as overwhelming pleasure washed over you. “N-need you inside.” 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re already begging to be fucked like that. I almost forgot how needy you are when you want cock. You like the thought of me stretching out your little pussy that much, huh?” He smiled darkly against your heated skin, slowly dragging his tongue along it as you whimpered and nodded your head to his obscene question, not allowing you to witness the brief moment his eyes turned completely black. “I just might split you open.” 

You almost didn’t recognize your boyfriend when he tossed you onto your shared bed like you weighed close to nothing, and you certainly didn’t recognize him when he manipulated your limbs until you were laying with your head down against the mattress and your ass up in the air. Usually, he wanted to do missionary, so that he could kiss and look at you when you both came undone, but now, now he had you in a position that was apparently ‘perfect for breeding’, or at least, that’s what you thought you had heard him mumbling about from behind you. 

“Now’s the time, human. We must show her how great we are,” the alien reminded Yunho, delighted that his black parasitic poison was now making its way through his host’s veins, showing up from underneath his milky skin. It was changing him in ways that would most definitely benefit all three of you. 

Yunho squeezed his large hands into the sides of your ass and spread it open, hyper focused on your dripping cunt and how it struggled to accommodate his ungodly size. “Poor baby’s so tiny, my little princess can barely take me inside her pretty cunt,” he sighed, pulling out just enough to send a few strands of spit onto his own cock, lubing up the base of it and pushing back in, a shiver of pleasure shooting up his spine as soon as he heard the broken cry that left your drooling mouth. “Looks like we’re going to have to break you in.” 

You felt like you were losing your mind. Your boyfriend had just barely bottomed out inside of you and you were already about to cream yourself. And, it might’ve been the cock-drunk state you were in, but you swore to god that his dick got bigger. It felt like it was kissing your cervix already and he hadn’t even moved yet. Not to mention, it felt so hot inside you, and there was so much pre-cum coating your walls, you almost thought he had came prematurely, but he would’ve been asleep and snoring away already if he did. 

Yunho violently interrupted your train of thought by slamming his hips forward, letting out a deep, long groan as though he were experiencing euphoria. He grabbed your wrists and held them behind your back, tucking them together so that he could hold them both with one large hand, and quickly got to work, yanking you back onto his cock, using you like his own personal sex doll. “That’s fucking it, isn’t it, angel? You like that? You fucking like that?” 

“Nnh, yeah– fuck me, don’t stop,” you moaned back, realizing this ‘phase’ of Yunho’s was one of the best things that could’ve ever happened to the both of you, previously unaware that something this rough and borderline animalistic could feel as good as it did. 

“She’s ours, she’s ours, Yunho, fuck, we’re going to cum inside her,” Venom blissfully announced into Yunho’s head, fully taking over his host in that very instant, gracing Yunho with the symbiote’s much more endowed features. 

It was then that you let out a sudden gasp, the air that quickly filled your lungs leaving as a wavering moan of pleasure instead. It was almost as if Yunho’s cock had grown twice in size. You didn’t even know how that was possible, but you were too lost in the moment to question it. “So big, it’s so fucking big, Yunho, nnnngh, it’s gonna break me,” you exhaled, quickly pulling at the sheets once he gifted you partial physical autonomy, your eyes beginning to disappear underneath your lashes. 

“That’s right, pretty girl, and you’re going to keep taking it all, even after I’m done impregnating you,” Yunho agreed huskily, bending over you until his overheated body pressed into your shoulders and back, his long fingers curling around the softness of your hips once again. Just as his never-ending seed spilled into you and made its way into your womb, Yunho dragged his long, heavy tongue up in between your straining shoulder blades and along your neck, savoring your flavor. He truly wanted to eat you, unable to stop drooling, but the annoying mortal he shared this body with wouldn’t let him. Venom figured he would have to settle for the next best thing.  

You didn’t even have a chance to finish shaking, let alone take a breath, before you were being lifted up and lowered back down onto your boyfriend’s face, your cunt fitting snugly between the curves of Yunho’s lips and nose. Just as he lapped at your extremely sensitive clit and slit, you couldn’t help but jolt away, his forearms suddenly locking tightly around your middle. “O-oh…!” 

“Hold still. Need a taste of this pretty cunt,” Yunho growled under his breath, angling his head back and opening his mouth wide enough so that he could explore the entirety of your used cunt, licking and drinking up the mixed arousal that spilled out of you to his heart’s content.

“Y-yunhooo,” you whined pathetically, reaching forward to hold onto the headboard to keep yourself from passing out from the pleasure that was overloading your mind, looking down to watch how he eagerly nosed at your clit. “Fuck, i’ll cum again…” 

“Then, do it, princess.” Just as he swallowed down more of your wetness, he realized it wasn’t enough, unable to keep himself from sliding the entirety of his tongue inside you, feeling you clench around the base of it. 

“Oh my god, your tongue, it’s so–haaaah,” you reacted breathlessly, digging your nails into the wood of the headboard, the longer his serpent-like tongue slithered in and out of you so seamlessly, unable to fully understand how any of this was possible. When the thickest part of his appendage rubbed at your g-spot, you saw white around your vision, your ears ringing, unable to hear the filthy slurping sounds Yunho was making underneath you as he drank up your squirt. 

When you came to, you were back underneath Yunho, in the missionary position he loved so much, yet this time it was profoundly different. His eyes were as dark as his freshly dyed hair, one corner of his mouth split open, inviting a myriad of long, serrated fangs, all while black wispy tendrils clung onto one side of his face like a second skin. You realized too late why Yunho was acting so out of character, and that you were never actually alone with him the past few weeks. You had an uninvited guest, an alien symbiote known as Venom, to be exact — and here you were, face to face with him, his massive alien cock stretching your used cunt open to the point of no return.

“Oh god, you’re actually going to split me open, what the fuck,” you gasped sharply, clutching the sides of Yunho’s cheeks, your fingers tugging at the ends of his sweaty hair. 

“Silly human, as much as we’d enjoy seeing that, you won’t split apart. You have a prime body for breeding, didn’t you know?” he chuckled darkly in a two-toned voice, pressing his hand down into your abdomen to feel the sheer size of himself protruding through your lower belly each time his hips routinely smacked into yours. “We knew Spider-man’s pretty little girlfriend would make a perfect host for our offspring. Just look at you, you’re taking us so well.” 

You didn’t know what was going to break your mind first, the fact that you were essentially being used as a breeding tool for an alien that would take great pleasure in swallowing you whole, or the fact that your cunt was eagerly swallowing up something so absurdly large, its heavy girth and width stretching you so wide, it felt as though you would fall apart at any given time. Despite the insanity of it all, your body and mind welcomed it, creaming yourself on his throbbing cock. 

“Good girlll,” Yunho praised, letting his long slimy tongue slip out to lick up the side of your cheek until he tasted the salt of your tears. He fully sheathed himself inside you one last time, before his large hands cemented around your waist, holding you completely still as his hot load joined the other one he had previously fucked into you, his heavy breaths warming the skin of your neck. “That’s it, you dirty slut, take it all, just like that…” 

You could hardly breathe, let alone move, simply laying still in your boyfriend’s arms, taking everything he gave you, as wave after wave of cum coated the insides of your aching cunt and flooded womb, some of it spilling down the insides of your legs and dripping onto the stained sheets below. It felt so good to be filled up in such a way, to be truly bred, that you came again without direct stimulation, letting out a broken cry, before Yunho silenced you with a gentle kiss. 

When you opened your teary eyes, your boyfriend’s previously monstrous traits were gone, instead replaced with his usual soft, flushed features that you adored so much. You watched him open and close his mouth, as if he didn’t know what to say. You pressed another kiss to his lips, weakly running your fingers through his hair. “Should we go to the drugstore to get Plan B?”

Yunho gave you a goofy, though apologetic smile, leaning his face into your neck to give it a few kisses. He pulled himself back up to face you, his eyebrows upturned. “D-do you think it would work on an alien symbiote?” 

You patted his head, knowing what you signed up for when you decided to date the Spider-man, figuring one of his superhero friends would have a solution for the both of you. You gave him a soft smile, happy when he returned it. “If not, let’s get a refund.” 

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

fictober taglist: @littlefireball @crazylittlebisexual @luvbit3z @hwasbbyg @ane102 @linearities @hoe4yunho @tearfulsparks78 @sunkislove @binniesbabe @peelingpaint-heavyheart @prodsh00ky @dawn-iscozy @peachyy-jooniee @sunwoosbaby @screaming4san @cowgirlkller @markleecankickme @comicnerd557 @stay-thing-things @Alexxbear69 @kpopandthings @dekyepunn @m4m4-s4m4

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[aeribbon]

target acquired | oscar piastri

summary; part two here the only thing more dangerous than your job is dating an f1 driver in secret and oh...! oscar is just trying to survive lando's gossip group chat

featuring; f1driver!oscar piastri x bau agent!f!reader

fc; yu jimin

warnings; english isn't my first language + not proof read YET !

an; requested here i tried lol i don't really know a lot about bau/fbi hope you like it !! i have my finals exams next week hurfezpIPFJ

navigation masterlist request

part two here

texts between lando, charles, carlos, george, ollie, pierre, max, alex → oscar

texts between oscar → you

instagram post

f1paddocktea - miami gp

liked by yourusername, yourfriend and 98k others !

f1paddocktea a mysterious girl was seen arriving at the paddock with a part of oscar's team and then headed to the mclaren motorhome ! could this be oscar's girlfriend 💌 ? if you have any more info please send us an email.

view all comments

username she didn’t even look lost. first time in the paddock and she knew where to go. that’s suspicious

username someone said she flashed a badge at some haters. IS THIS A JOKE

username this is giving criminal minds x drive to survive crossover energy and i’m living for it

username she's the badass girl we all want to be omg

username she gave the vibes of someone who has disarmed a man before. with one hand. while texting.

username we have nothing on her. no tagged pics. no pap shots. no soft launch. WHO IS SHE ??

username for real though, never seen someone with zero to none presence online this is so suspicious.

anonymouswagupdates unconfirmed but someone from hospitality said she “doesn’t eat during cases” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN 😭

username i saw her. black boots, dark sunglasses, zero expression. that’s not a random plus one, that’s a mission...

texts between charles, george, ollie and lando

instagram post

kymillman - miami gp

liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri, yourusername and 298k others !

kymillman a first official appearance for oscar piastri and his girlfriend in the f1 paddock ahead of today's race !

view all comments

username DAMN

username nvm oscar i don't want you but YOUR GF ??

username never knew oscar had the game to pull of this beauty

username SO YOU’RE TELLING ME SHE’S BEEN IN THE PADDOCK THIS WHOLE TIME?? she's giving secret agent fr

landonorris what you know about that ?

oscarpiastri lando please behave

username she blinked and ferrari fumbled a strategy call. coincidence?? I THINK NOT.

username this explains the sudden confidence boost this season 😌

mclaren our driver’s safe and emotionally supported... and also heavily protected apparently

username she shows up and he wins once again ?? pls come to every race from now on

username YES PLEASE

georgerussell plot twist: oscar’s actually the emotional support boyfriend in this relationship

olliebearman be careful on your words with oscar she might come and get you

username i love how we are all acting as if she’s not here for the grid drama but she’s here to assess threat levels and kiss her man after podium.

username i meannnnnn

texts between lando, charles, carlos, george, ollie, pierre, max, alex → oscar

[hotchnerwrites]

I loved your fic Warmth!! You write caretaker Hotch so well, I would love to read more cute or caring moments where Hotch is looking out for a shy reader!!! Little things like giving his jacket, watching closely on cases, the sweet stuff!! you killed it

Soft Spot

part two ▷

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: SFW, fluff, no use of (y/n), no continuous plot it's fragmented stories tbh

A/N: Thank you so much!!! So very glad you enjoyed Warmth <3 I spent all day indulgently dreaming of the things he'd do OMGGG anyways this is the product. It was supposed to be a 5+1 but i think a headcanon-inspired style suited this story better where you kinda see fragments of their daily interactions. I hope you like it and it's what you imagined!!! Enjoy reading, mwah mwah mwah <3

My requests are open! Send me stuff :)

You didn’t want to be a burden. You liked putting people first. It felt good to be in a caretaker role yourself. You liked bringing Reid his coffee loaded with ten packets of sugar. You liked bringing Garcia collectables for her desk. You liked giving Rossi your chair if the room was one too short. It didn’t matter that it sometimes came at the cost of your discomfort. You’d never liked being the centre of attention anyway.

But perhaps that begged the age-old question— who cared for the caretaker?

●・○・●・○・●・

The first time it happened was on the jet. 

It was a late-night flight, nothing new. But the AC in the cabin must have malfunctioned that day. It was brutally chilly, and since you were returning from a case in Florida, you had nothing but summer clothes. Your tea wasn’t doing much, so you occasionally walked the length of the cabin, trying to be quiet so the others could sleep. It hadn’t even crossed your mind to ask for something as simple as a jacket.

But Hotch saw. 

He didn’t look up from his paperwork— he just held it out as you passed his seat again. His arm barred you from dodging past, so you reluctantly draped it over your shoulders. Just five minutes, then you’d return it.

Maybe he heard your thoughts because right then, he said, “Keep it on.” It wasn’t a polite request; he had already decided for you.

But it’s Hotch so you listen.

No one questioned where you got the jacket from when the jet landed. But you catch JJ’s faint smile from the corner of your eye when she sees the jacket hanging from your desk chair the next day.

Hotch never asked for it back.

●・○・●・○・●・

You’re a great agent in terms of fieldwork. The whole team trusted you. Of course, you wouldn’t be there if they didn’t, but it felt nice to realise that nevertheless. 

But blind trust didn’t mean Hotch wouldn’t watch you like a hawk.

It was probably just a coincidence. You always ended up paired with him when heading into dangerous situations. He never hovered or anything, he always let you do your thing. But it was the way he positioned himself slightly ahead of you when clearing rooms, a silent wall between you and any potential threats,

And then there were the crime scene situations. You could hold it together; your poker face an acquired skill. But some cases hit home. You never let it show too much, but Hotch noticed when your fingers curled into tight fists, shoulders going rigid.

He never called you out on it, or put you on the spot.

Instead, his voice came through the comms before you and Morgan breached a suspect’s house. “Be careful.”

He said it to both of you, but somehow, you knew it was meant for you.

And later, when the case was over, and you were sitting on the back of an ambulance with a shallow cut on your arm from a scuffle, he was there.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, voice low.

You shook your head. “No. It’s fine.”

He didn’t argue, but he sat next to you long after the paramedic finished patching you up.

●・○・●・○・●・

You didn’t even realise when it started.

One morning, you had walked into the bullpen, and there had been a steaming hot cup of coffee on your desk. Just the way you took it. You blinked at it, confused, but you assumed Garcia was behind it.

But it happened again the next day. Then the day after. And again the following day.

It was never a big thing or a grand gesture. Just a simple takeaway cup with your order etched into the side. When you finally thanked Garcia, she looked utterly bemused.

“Oh, sugar. That’s not me,” she’d said, a grin stretching across her face.

No way.

So the next time it happened, you glanced towards Hotch’s office. Sure enough, he was already looking at you. But he never said a word. He didn’t even smile. He just looked down at his files and kept writing.

You sipped the coffee at your desk slowly, savouring every sip, willing it to last longer. The warmth spreading across your chest had nothing to do with the drink.

●・○・●・○・●・

The rain had been terrible all week. Sick of fighting your way through public transport where everything was slippery and wet, you had treated yourself to an Uber. You didn’t have an umbrella while you waited, so you stood under the awning in front of the building. You’d make a run for it when the car showed up.

As you scanned the road in front of you for your designated car, a black umbrella swung open over your head.

You turned, startled, only to find Hotch standing behind you, holding it up without a word. His coat was getting wetter, but he didn’t look like he cared.

“You’ll get soaked,” you said, noting how he had angled it more over you than himself.

“I’ll be all right,” he replied simply.

And that was that.

He waited till your car came, and then he helped you get in, ensuring not a drop touched your head as you bundled yourself into the backseat. 

It wasn’t until you were almost at your front door that you realised— he’d never had an umbrella with him when he came to work this morning.

Hotch had taken the time to find one— just for you.

●・○・●・○・●・

The Denver case was a disaster. 

Too many close calls. Too many what-ifs.

Sleep was difficult that night. You stared at the ceiling of your hotel room, letting yourself dissociate. But a buzz from your phone snapped you out of your reverie. When you checked your screen, there was just one text message.

You did well today. - A.H.

You stared at those four words for too long. No over-the-top reassurances, no unnecessary fluff. Just an acknowledgement.

You never responded, but the next morning on the jet, he caught your eye and nodded, ever so slightly. Like he knew you saw the message. Like he knew it helped.

And maybe, just maybe, it had eased your worries a bit that day.

part two ▷

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[esote-rika]

lose some, win some | Spencer Reid Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut 18+, MDNI Summary: COLLEGE AU! When your debate team loses the national championship, you and Spencer return to your shared room and find a productive way to take out your frustrations. Content: Waldorf!Reader is a sore loser, lots of dialogue in the beginning, Sassy!Spencer, some talk of misogyny, Spencer makes up for it by being a munch (so f receiving oral), virgin!Spencer but he’s also a little shit, they are both little shits but it’s cute I swear, handjob, raw p in v but reader mentions she is on the pill, creampies, multiple orgasms for both of them (they’re frustrated and horny give them a break) Word count: 4.8k (it's porn with a plot for once) A/N: Not really frenemies or rivals, they’re just really angry young adults. Idk what Spencer’s actual age was in college, but he studied several times so for this fic, he’s on his third degree and is 21. If the debate stuff is incorrect, I'm sorry. I did do some research but there's so many different rules and styles lmfao. My friend who competes says it’s fine and understandable so :) also massive thanks to @just-call-me-by-yn @mggslover and @notlongtolove for helping me brainstorm and @wheresmacoffee because she was there JK  ILY ANDY their banter during the filthy part is for you <3.

Spencer Reid doesn’t particularly care about the prestige that comes with winning. Most people crave it for the validation, or because it’s another impressive thing they can slap onto their resumes, but being a genius his entire life allows him not to worry about that. His academics speak for themselves. He doesn’t need to pad it with extracurriculars. Instead, he enjoys the skills that are honed from debate—learning to listen to arguments, finding the perfect way to rebut, memorization and reviewing with like minded individuals. The university team is a well oiled machine composed of four people— him on his third degree, two other male juniors, and you, the only woman.

Over the span of two semesters, he’s memorized the quirks of his teammates. It’s essential to building rapport, after all, and he’s eager to get something good out of this. Something less academic, and more social. Friends, perhaps. While he’s formed a bond with the other members, you have always been an enigma. Stoic and ambitious, you remind him of a statue. Cold and oh so beautiful. You’ve often kept to yourself. And after several rejected attempts at friendship, he’s learned to just observe from afar.

He knows from experience that observing allows you deep insight into people, and so he knows after two semesters that you’re perhaps the most competitive out of the entire team, the most hungry for a win. This drive, he suspects, comes from a deeply rooted desire to prove yourself, though he’s unsure why. What else do you have to prove? You have everything, as far as he’s concerned. Keenly intelligent, beautiful, with a circle of friends that adore you. You aren’t like him, who has to sink his claws deep into this debate team in order to get a dose of social interaction. No, you have a life, no matter how marblesque you may seem.

And yet, somehow it’s still not enough for you.

He thinks it’s utterly ridiculous, and absolutely fascinating.

The weekend of nationals is taxing. You’ve been fighting for the opener role since the semis, but it would require too much adjustment, which no one is willing to risk so close to nationals. Not only does he not want to give up his spot, he also knows how ruthless you can be as a rebuttal speaker. He's meek, and you have a tendency to be aggressive, it's why the original roles go so well. 

Your adviser agreed, and there’s been tension ever since. 

To make matters worse, hotel arrangements somehow have placed both of you in the same room. The force of your resentment is palpable even to a normally clueless guy like him. Distracting. Pages being turned in your exaggerated annoyance. He’d complain of dramatics, but he doesn’t want to start anything. 

The fact that you’re rooming together also doesn’t help him. Sure, there are different beds, small twin mattresses on either side of the room, but still. Proximity to a woman his age has him anxious for reasons entirely unrelated to nationals. 

So when you lose the championship, his concern for your reaction behind doors overwhelms the regret of losing. 

No one is happy with the results. It is obvious from the set of his jaw, the tenseness of your shoulders. Spencer tries to calm down, accept defeat with a modicum of grace, at least in front of other people. He can tell the rest of the team is trying too, but quite unconvincingly. Onstage, accepting the medals for second place—mockingly silver, and no trophies—the team’s smiles are forced, plastic. 

Back to the hotel rooms are a different story. When you slam the hotel door shut, it echoes down the hall and makes even your debate adviser flinch. It would have made Spencer flinch too, if he hadn't already expected it. He's grown accustomed to how bad of a loser you can be. Like a tornado, your anger spares no one from its destruction. It is in these moments that your stoic resolve crumbles, no longer unfeeling, but rather fully human. Hurtful. Ruthless Unfortunately for him, he's directly in your line of fire.

He catches bits and pieces of your muttered diatribes. He’s used to those too. Normally, he would have ignored them. Losing sucks the energy out of a person, regardless of how uncompetitive he is. Besides, your ranting is mostly harmless, until one sentence snags his attention.

“— knew I should have been the opening speaker —”

He is clawing at his tie, trying desperately to get it off, but the words make him stop immediately. He whirls around, brows furrowed, “What?”

You pause as well, “What?”

“What did you say about being the opening speaker?” He watches you roll your eyes. It does nothing to calm the bitterness in the back of his throat. The normal song and dance goes like this: he’d say a string of words in an attempt to soothe the fire burning in your nerves, and you'd say something so vitriolic he'd refuse to speak to you for the rest of your time together. 

But today, having just lost the biggest championship after working so hard, he's a short fuse and your words are incendiary.

“I said I should have done it, like I asked—”

“Ah, as usual, you're mad that you didn't get what you wanted.” 

An offended scoff. He's almost proud he managed to pull that out of you. “You take too long—”

“Nationals isn't the time to suddenly alter the roles,” he tells you, shaking his head. He manages to loosen the tie, finally, tossing it on his bed with so much aggression it misses the mattress and lands limply on the floor, “I've always been the opening speaker.”

“Yes, and one would think that after going through so many debate competitions,  you would learn to be more succinct,” you snap, shoes making harsh clacks against the tiled floor, “The goal isn't to let us know you're the smartest person in the room, Spencer, it's to set up the tone and groundwork of—”

“I don't need you to lecture me about being the opening,” he interrupts, “I know what my role requires of me.”

“Do you?” Eyes flashing, you walk to him until you're almost chest to chest, “Because we still lost.”

“And you blaming me?” he hisses, leaning down. He hates doing this, stooping to your level of pettiness. Normally, he would choose to be the bigger person, refusing your verbal sparring; he likes to focus his energy on the actual debate, the opposing team, not his own teammates. But your words cut deeper than normal; it isn't the fault the team lost, that's just a flat out lie, “We advised you multiple times to memorize the statistics—”

“Something you're better at!” You look physically pained to admit his superiority, but the words spill anyway, “You'd be so much better to do the rebuttals since you have your stupid photographic memory, and I can set the tone better, but nobody on this little boys club ever listens to me!”

He's surprised at the choked tone your voice has taken. In his mind, you're a complete equal—you made it to the team through hard work and impeccable skills, like the rest of them did, after all. It didn't matter that you are a woman to him, so of course his instinct is to deny. “That’s not true.” but even his voice sounds weak. 

How would he know if it’s not true? He’s never been in your shoes before, never had to reckon with what comes with being the only woman in a team of men.

“Isn’t it?” he flinches at the venom in your voice, “You all act like I'm an afterthought—I get the shittiest positions even when I know I can be more effective in a different one, no one ever asks me for strategy, hell, you never invite me to your stupid chess games.”

His mouth opens and closes foolishly, latching on to the one thing he has a full response to, “I thought you hate chess.”

A sharp laugh, petulant and bitter, “I do, but it would have been nice to be included.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve turned around, yanking off your pristine maroon blazer so roughly he’s afraid it might rip. The silence that grows makes him itch, hands balling into fists as he tries to think of what to do. Social dynamics have always been a thing of mystery to him. 

He wonders if he is part of this problem. He’s no stranger to feeling different and on the outs, and it pains him to think that he inadvertently caused someone else to feel that same, unpleasant exclusion.

But, no. Quickly, he recalls every single time he’s tried to include you—a museum trip that you’d declined because you had a party you wanted to attend. His extra tickets to the Nutcracker.

“That’s not true,” his voice is firm now, following you until he’s standing right behind. Lavender hits his nose and his brain registers the scent of your shampoo. Definitely too close if he can smell that, but he refuses to back away, intent on getting his point across, “That’s not true, I’ve tried to— you were always too busy.”

“What, I’m a liar now?” you spin around, pretty features twisted to somehow express both anger and hurt. He almost falters. Almost. 

But he’s too worked up, even though he knows he should back off, to not trivialize your experiences in order to defend himself. He should know better than this, but the sting of your accusation spurs him on. So he pushes, eyes narrowing, “Last year, September 14, 21, and 29, I invited you to come with us for several casual chess tournaments, you declined all invitations because you claimed you hated chess. October 29th, I told you about the new exhibit they were displaying—”

“It was Halloween weekend, I already had plans—”

“December 19th, I offered you Nutcracker tickets and you said you’d already seen it—”

“I have,” your voice has grown quiet now, and if he stops speaking for a single moment to look, your features have relaxed into something gentler. But he’s on a roll, and you have always been right about things; his inability to be succinct is one of them.

“Even this year, I invited you to study multiple times, but you’ve always had prior plans,” the words are spoken with neutrality. He isn’t even angry anymore, just eager to list everything down and let you know how hard he’s tried with you. Even after the numerous rejections, he’s made an effort, but of course, you have other friends, other plans outside your nerdy debate team. He’s never held that against you, but if you wanted to point fingers, he has the means to defend himself. And sure, he wants to prove you wrong on some level too, but that’s the lesser point. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re better than me, and just accepted, you wouldn’t be feeling so excluded.”

“I don’t act like I’m better than you.”

“You just said you would have made a better opening speaker.”

You scoff, “Oh my god, you’re infuriating, I can’t believe I’m stuck with you!”

Spencer bristles at that, “I’m giving you the facts, it’s not my fault you can’t handle them.” he says, leaning closer, trying to make her see his point, “You’re always so closed off and the other guys have just given up trying. Maybe if you—”

“What? If I smiled more? Acted less like a bitch?” you sneer, eyes narrowed dangerously, “I thought a genius like you would know better than to use misogynistic language like that.”

“Wha— no! Don’t put words in my mouth.” Spencer replies, shaking his head. The conversation is devolving into something dangerous, the air crackling with something electric. He assumes it’s anger. They will never get anywhere, so he sighs, softening slightly, “I never said that. I’m just pointing out that you weren’t blameless in this, you know?”

You’re silent. He watches you, takes in how the resentment in your eyes have been dulled by something more contemplative.

He continues, “Listen, I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like you were on the outs. I’m sure we have to do so much reflection as a team and as individuals about how we treat each other, but it’s unfair to say that we never include you when I have actively been making efforts to—”

Your lips are upon him. 

That’s inaccurate. 

You are upon him, arms flung around his neck, body pressed flush against his. He feels the entire world tilt, and he’s unsure if it’s because you’re pulling him down or because your lips are so pillowy he’s instantly eager for more. Wants it like a man starved. Needs it, needs more, but his body betrays him. Whether it’s his inexperience or surprise or a combination of both. He freezes, blinking rapidly at the sight of you. Eyes shut, and face so close to him; so, so close he can count each individual eyelash, see the tiny freckle on your eyelid that gets hidden if your eyes are open.

And then you're gone. The freckle disappears as you look at him with wide eyed mortification. 

“Shit, Spencer, I—”

It’s his lips that cut you off this time, seeking out the velvety warmth of your mouth. Your lips part under his, and he registers a sound, soft and whining. It takes him a moment to realize it came from him, from the back of his throat and muffled by your lips and tongue and oh you’re both falling.

Literally. He must have leaned too far into you; you’re suddenly collapsing, forcing him down because your arms have him in a vice grip and he’s too busy chasing after your lips. The next thing he knows is he’s on top of you and you’re sprawled on the bed beneath him. Time stands still; he’s painfully aware of how cliche that is, but every sense of eloquence seems to have been expelled from his brain as he takes you in; lips swollen and wet from his kisses, pupils blown wide. Every breath you take pushes your chest up against his, and he can feel your heart thrumming against his body. 

“Well, that was one way of shutting you up,” you chuckle with a cockiness that makes his heart speed up, though it isn’t borne out of embarrassment. Every single physiological effect of your body is evidence that you’re enjoying this, telling him you’re just as worked up as he is. The breathiness in your voice, the quickness of your heartbeat. 

The fact that you’re pulling him down again, legs hooking around his hips. He surrenders to it, lips meeting yours once again, deeper and more desperate this time.

He closes his eyes, relishing this, kissing you, touching you, an act he had believed is reserved for attractive jocks and charismatic art nerds. Not him, quiet and lanky, shifting to avoid his angular bones from digging into you, and to place himself more comfortably on the bed. Inexperienced, ungainly, and yet here he is, his tongue pushing into your mouth in his first forays into something that his peers have experienced years ago.

Spencer Reid isn’t used to being the one behind, doing the catching up. Child prodigy, genius, the words aren’t meaningless. He’s been ahead academically—which, up until this point, has been his whole life. But feeling warm lips beneath his own has him reconsidering some of his life choices. 

The kiss is messy. Sloppy from his clumsy attempts to keep up with your eagerness. You’re tugging at something, and he realizes it’s to untuck the rest of the crisp shirt you’ve donned for the debate tournament out from your skirt. His hands settle on your waist, finding smooth, heated skin from where your shirt has ridden up. Careful fingers help push it up, burying under the fabric until his palms are mapping out the slopes of your body. 

Soft. So damn soft. 

Not cold marble after all. He theorizes you must be soft everywhere, and he decides to test it out with his lips, laving kisses along your jaw, down the sweet, musky skin of your neck where your perfume still lingers. Instincts take over and he allows himself a taste, tongue darting out. You shudder, so he does it again, greedy for your pretty moans and gasps. 

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, “Thought you were mad at me?” he mumbles, trailing his kisses down the column of your throat. 

You’re all mhms and ohhhs right now, so far from the usual image you present to the world, a preppy, manicured woman who wrestles for control over everything. You must hate this, he thinks, being beneath him physically, caged within his arms which are deceptively strong for how fragile he looks. 

“Shut up,” you grumble.

“Make me.” His grin is dopey when he lifts his head to meet her gaze.

Something brushes against his crotch, and now he’s the one gasping, jerking in surprise at the friction. You’ve slotted your thigh between his, and his traitorous body responds by grinding down on it shamelessly. The look on your face is smug, triumphant.

“Huh,” saccharine and mocking, you blink up at him innocently, “That was easier than I thought.”

His head drops to your neck again, but he isn’t kissing you anymore. Just open mouthed breathing as he rubs himself on your thigh, hands tightening on your sides, “Mhm.”

“Are you gonna come? Spencer, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He sinks his teeth into your flesh to fight the needy whines because yes, he’s so embarrassingly close and you’re both still fully dressed. He hears a hiss, and he backs off immediately, murmuring apologies, “Didn’t mean to—”

“‘S okay,” you tilt your head back, give him more access to your neck, “Just don’t leave marks.”

Permission to bite. He gulps, heart beating wildly, before ducking back down. Chapped lips run over your neck, finding a soft spot to bite, forcing himself to soften the way his teeth sink into your skin. All the while rubbing himself on your thigh because it’s probably the closest thing to heaven a man such as him will ever experience. 

He hears your laughter, your mocking cooes of, “You’re so fucking needy” but he can’t bring himself to care.

You’re correct, he decides, as you usually are. He’s needy, desperately so, eagerly chasing the delicious pleasure of dry humping your thigh. 

“Hold on, Spencer.”

You push him back gently. A whine rips from his throat, “Mhm—why?”

He gets his answer soon enough. Your hands undo his belt and he swears this sets his whole body on fire. Nobody’s ever seen him like this. Never has another person touched him so intimately, seen him so out of control, so brainless. He’s babbling incoherently as your hand strokes up and down his length, his hips rutting into your hand. It’s out of sync. Two dancers on entirely different rhythms.

Your laughter rings in his ears, one hand tangled in his hair as the other does unspeakable, tantalizing things to his aching cock. 

“Mhm, can’t— I’m gonna—” and he’s spilling into your hand, hot, viscous liquid overflowing from your hand and staining your skirt, “Ah, shit.”

He collapses against you, head on the crook of your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “‘M sorry, I’ll– I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

Your chest shakes as you laugh, “Would you? I think you owe me more than that.” The heat in your voice makes his breath catch in his throat.

Soft kisses press upon your neck as he gathers his thoughts, willing his brain to work again. Anatomy, female anatomy. Female pleasure. What does he know about this? A lot, surprisingly, though mostly from books. Mostly in theory, but that’s a start. He can put them to practice right now. His hands drag down your sides until they catch the waistband of your skirt. “May I?”

“Okay.”

He pulls gently, exposing the rest of your thighs and legs. Honey brown eyes devour the expanse of your skin, hands clutching at the softness. He marvels at the way your flesh accepts his own, bright red splotches imprinted from his fingertips.   

He thinks of poetry, the uncountable amount of words and phrases written to immortalize women and love and sex, and he finds himself wishing he has the skill to compose something as beautiful, something worthy of you right now, radiant and half naked and somehow all his. 

But he is no poet, so he touches his lips upon your body instead. Pretty words will escape him, but his lips can speak even without them, he’ll make sure of it. He kisses down your abdomen, making sure to pay attention to every hidden freckle and birthmark he comes across. Your reactions make him feel drunk, to the point of affecting him physically. Messier kisses. Hands tugging and nearly ripping the lace of your panties because he’s unaware of his own strength. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles, “So pretty.” It’s all he can repeat, but then his tongue lands on your slick heat and suddenly words are forgotten in favor of vague groaning. Because how can he accurately describe the sensation of this? Tasting you. God how has he gone so long without this? Your nails scraping his scalp, his fingers sinking into your thighs as he keeps you still. He’s halfway off the bed, legs dangling off the edge, your thighs squeezing his face. 

There’s nowhere else he would rather be. 

He laps at your folds like a mad man, tongue pressed flat and dragging up slowly to get as much of you in his mouth as possible. His feet find the floor, allowing himself more stability to once again rub his growing erection against a solid object. The poor mattress is going to be ruined once they’re done.

“Faster,” you gasp, jerking your hips into his face, “Spencer— oh, yeah like that!”

Spencer Reid is a quick study, and when he hears the positive reactions, he doubles down until he feels you convulse against his tongue. You jerk so violently he has to hold you down. He pushes his tongue past your entrance experimentally, and feels you tug roughly on his hair in response, gasping his name and God’s name in slurred phrases as you ride out your high.

It’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever experienced.

 “Jesus Christ,” you gasp, and he has to repeat that ridiculous sentence again, because it’s true and he feels you deserve it.

“You’re so pretty.” He fears you might be some kind of magnet, because his lips keep getting drawn back to your skin. He lets his kisses travel up your hip bone, before grinning up at you, “Even when you’re being insufferable, you’re still so beautiful.”

“Gee thanks,” you huff, pulling at his arm, “How romantic, I’m swooning.”

“Might not be swooning, but you did just come on my face.” brilliant rows of teeth flash at you as he smiles smugly.

“Asshole.”

“Is that how you say thank you?” he drags his body up lazily, draping himself over you.

“I’m not— wait, are you hard again?”

“Uh…”

“Needy, needy boy.” you pull him down to you, and he almost protests, his chin and mouth still covered with your slick. But you don’t seem to care, so he follows your lead, God at this point he would follow you anywhere at all. You’re shifting beneath him, and the next thing he knows is your legs are wrapped around his waist again, your heat completely exposed and pressing against his cock.

“Mhm,” he pulls back, eyes wide, “I—”

“What?” you whisper, lifting your head to continue giving him kisses, teeth playfully nipping at his jaw, “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.”

“It’s not that,” he can’t deny you, his body relaxing back down over you. His lips catch yours for a moment, slow and achingly tender, “I’ve just never really done this before.”

He waits for the inevitable laughter. Here he is, at 21, and somehow still the same person he had been when he first entered college at 14. But you continue to look at him with heavy lids, breathless and flushed. 

“Okay,” your voice is kind, sweet, “Take it slow then.” your hand wraps around his length again, the movement slower this time, as you align him to your entrance. He hisses as the sensitive tip grazes against your folds, as he feels your entrance slowly give way to him and envelop his cock. 

“Oh,” he sighs. With your help, he sinks halfway into you, one hand gripping your hip, the other bracing himself on his elbow. Eyes squeezed shut, he stills and manages to ask, “Are you okay?”

You don’t speak, and so he forces his eyes to focus and look at you. The sight has him twitching inside you. Mouth agape and eyes hazy, you’re nodding up at him wordlessly as your hips rock up into his. “More.”

It’s exhilarating. He’s known you for the past year, worked alongside you but respected your need for distance. And now, here you are, not merely close, but one. Spencer sighs, and thrusts shallowly, eyes zeroed in on you and your reactions. He doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want it to end too soon, so he moves slowly, dragging out his cock until only the tip rests inside you, then sliding into the hilt.

It elicits the most mellifluous sounds from you, making him smile in relief. He lets his forehead rest against yours, thrusts growing more confident, but still in that slow, almost dreamy pace. He memorizes every detail of this moment, from the way your eyes flutter closed, to the quiver of your legs as they wrap tighter around his thighs. 

“So good,” he hears himself say, “God, you feel so good.”

“Mhm,” you nod, nails digging into his back, even through his clothes. In the heat of the moment, you’re both still half dressed, only getting rid of your bottom clothes in order to get what you need from each other, “More, Spencer, I need more.”

He nods, letting his thrusts grow faster, rougher. It’s an awkward angle, he’s afraid his knees will start cramping, but the feeling of being surrounded by your warmth, drowning in your moans has him reckless. “There?” he grunts, angling just so, and he can’t help the smirk on his face when he feels your walls clenching around him.

“There, there, yes!”

He’s not sure how he manages to last as long as he does. Maybe it’s the sheer desire to feel you fall apart, for his cock to be drenched in your slick that keeps his release at bay. Maybe he has too much pent up sexual energy that’s just been dying to come out. Whatever it is, he’s thankful for it, because it means he’s spending more time inside you, hips moving with so much impact he’s pushing you forward with each thrust. 

“Yes, just like that.” you’re shuddering beneath him, and he moves his arm to the top of your head, creating a barrier between you and the headboard so you don’t hit it. He could stop, readjust your positions, but he doesn’t have it in him. 

No, he wants to stay inside you, forever if there’s an anatomically feasible way to do it. But unless he invents it, he’ll settle for right now, settle for the heat between your bodies, and how you’re practically melting into the mattress, arching so prettily against him.

“You close?” he murmurs, one hand finding your clit, drawing gentle circles with his fingertips.

“No fair,” you whine, bucking into him, “That’s cheat— Spencer!” 

You come undone in the most enthralling way, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip bitten by your own lips. You squeeze and flutter around him, and he’s helpless to stop his own release, spilling deep inside you with a broken cry from his own mouth. Your name is whispered, over and over again, until he stills, his vision blurry as he collapses against you.

He curls around you, trying to get as close, “You—that was—wow.” 

You giggle, still breathless and glassy eyed, “Are you sure that was your first time?”

“Yes,” he gives you a series of kisses along your temple, “Yes, it was. You—wow.” he carefully pulls out of you, hissing quietly when the cool air conditioned air hits his sensitive flesh. “Was that enough of an apology for not including you to our chess nights?”

“You’re making jokes now?”

“No,” he smiles, leaning away to look at you, all starry eyed and boneless, “Not a joke. Because if it’s not enough, I can do it again.” a kiss to your cheek, “And again.” one on the tip of your nose, “And again.”

When you laugh in response, he cups your cheek, “I mean it.” he says with all the seriousness he can muster.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Does this mean you’ll accept my invitations now?” he lights up, a large smile splitting his face.

“Only if it’s a date.”

"Then it's a date."

[bbokicidal]

"What Happens When..." | [SKZ] OT8 | [I.N]

Everyone decides to take a guess what Jeongin's girlfriend's favorite thing to do in the bedroom is - and almost everyone gets it wrong.

Genre: Smut [18+ MDNI] Pairing: Jeongin x Fem!Reader Warnings: SPIT, lots of spit, PinV (wrap it before you tap it), tummy bulge/size kink, manhandling, bondage/hands being bound together, pussy spanking, spanking in general

Notes: This IS a short fic and isn't anything really long. There's no plot - it's purely smut for your viewing pleasure and my mental peace, lol. <- This is the last installment of this series !! It's finally coming to an end.~

Word Count: 2.2K

Bangchan | Lino | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | I.N

"Why does Hyunjin get to go first?" "Because he's already between her legs, I guess."

"Would you two shut up? This is all for educational purposes. You need to watch and learn; Because I'm about to prove to you that I know what her biggest kink is." Hyunjin's head whips to face the two that bicker about him, Jisung stepping back and Felix letting his arms cross over his chest. "Ayen-ah's let on before that she really likes this one." His thumb finds your clit, flicking over the bundle of nerves and you finally give him a soft reaction to work with, your eyes slipping shut and hands curling against your chest in awe.

Felix lets out a heavy breath that ends in a soft whine, his head tipping to the side to get a better look at where his Hyung's cock begins to prod at your folds - and Felix can't help but stare as he slowly sinks into your warmth, wishing it were himself instead. "That's not fair.."

"So what exactly is the kink here...? Or is this just one big excuse to fuck your friend's girlfriend?" Chris quips off to Hyunjin's right, peering almost just over his shoulder to watch as the younger's cock sinks further into you. ".. Going in raw?" He questions shortly after, realizing Hyunjin hadn't slipped a condom on before pushing into you.

And Hyunjin sighs, tongue prodding at the corner of his mouth as he listens to the others continue to bicker about him just wanting to have sex with you.

But then Jisung sees it.

The way your skin tightens; The way your stomach bulges each time Hyunjin slowly rolls his hips forward. The way your head tips back as he leans down over you and whispers for you to feel it, guiding one of your hands away from your chest to instead press down on the very place his cock prods and rocks against. "..Bulging..." He whispers, lips parted in surprise at the sight in front of them.

"That's.. a pretty close second." Jeongin hums. He sits back against the headboard as he watches his Hyung rock into you slowly; He was lucky he got to fuck you at all - with Jeongin's permission of course - so he was going to do it with the utmost care. "But that's definitely not top spot."

Jisung practically barks from where he stands behind Hyunjin, reaching to tug on his shoulder. "I knew that wasn't going to be it-! Move, it's my turn." And to many of their surprise, the artist lets himself be pulled away from your sweetness.

Just as expected, Jisung moves forward instead to test his theory. If he could get this right with his one guess he would win the bet. And the prize... God, he's never imagined something so wonderful in his entire life. One hand drops to lay on your thigh while the other reaches to undo his belt - and he watches your eyes widen in surprise at his bold move, thinking he'd won already. Your lips pop apart and you're sure you're about to drool at the way his fingers curl around the buckle and rip it wide open, his belt dragging through the loops of his jeans in such a quick and slick manner that you're sure this is a practiced move. With your reaction he was sure he just ended the bet.

Jeongin almost moves to ask Jisung what he's going to do with that belt, hoping there's no impact about to be made with the accessory - but he simply sits up and stays quiet as he watches Jisung wrap the thick, heavy leather around your wrists to keep them snug together. Your soft gasp of anticipation feeds into Jisung's delusion that he was winning the bet, letting him pin your arms down above your head before he leans in to smile right in your face. "You like bondage, don't you, angel?"

And your smile grows, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you nod. "I do; I really, really do. But..." Jisung's heart sinks as you giggle. "It's not my favorite."

"Hah!" Changbin's laugh basically spews from his lips in a visual syllable, his arms previously crossed over his chest now gesturing to Jisung to skidaddle. "Go. She said you lost the bet so get off 'er and let someone else have a turn." His lips pull into a soft smirk, parted and exposing the way his tongue pokes between his teeth like he has ideas of his own to try out.

But someone else is just a tad quicker with wanting to win the bet. As soon as Jisung moves off of the bed in front of you to go sit beside Jeongin in defeat, Minho is right there to take his place; Only he doesn't crawl onto the bed to get to you and instead stands at the edge of it, feeling as though he looms over your still-bound body displayed for them so openly atop the sheets.

Your wrists stay above your head as you crane your neck to look at the man standing so close yet so far, only to have your head bounce back against the mattress from the force of Minho's hand locking around your right ankle tight enough you're sure it might bruise. He wastes no time in dragging you to where he stands so he's properly positioned between your legs, his eyes dark as they drag over every curve that comes to him so swiftly. And no one in the room can ignore the way you yelp at the feeling of being manhandled.

Calloused palms and rough fingertips run up the outer expanse of your thighs, coming nowhere near close to your warmth as they wander higher. He grips at your hips and gives them a teasing squeeze, feeling the way your skin presses between his fingers; So soft, so tempting. With careful but fairly stiff and rough movements, the muscle in his biceps tightens and flexes as he flips you from your back to your front - your face down and ass up for him. A position most would expect when it came to the resident ass-lover of the group. "There we go."

And with the way you moan the moment your face hits the sheets everyone in the room can almost guarantee Minho had won the bet fair and square. That was until your head slowly lifted from where it pressed against the mattress, breathing heavy with eyes dragging up towards your boyfriend where he sat now in front of you - smirking and letting his arms slowly cross over his chest. "You gonna tell them, baby, or do I have to?"

"There's no way that wasn't it." But Seungmin steps forward to test his luck anyway. Even if Minho won the bet just now, he wanted to get his own needs met, his palm smacking down hard on the bare skin of your asscheeks twice before he brought his hand lower and let it meet the wetness of your folds. That gets you to jolt, a sharp gasp escaping swollen lips.

The way you whimpered against the satin of your sheets almost made Seungmin think he was right about his guess, but the glance and small shake of Jeongin's head seemed to secure the realization that he was wrong, too. Seungmin sighs out and brings his hand down harder than before, making you flinch and moan loud - just for him, considering he'd been spanking you for his own satisfaction at that point. May as well let him know you appreciated it while it happened - and that you were open to it in the future, too, of course.

"I'm starting to think we're never going to guess it," Chris murmurs from where he stands near Changbin, leaning against the wall just to watch as everyone took guess after guess. "Maybe we should start going for softer kinks? Stuff that's less harsh...?"

Changbin shakes his head almost immediately. "She seems like the type who would like impact play or something, though. Do we need to go for something more extreme..?"

"What if it's got something to do with toys?" Jisung quips quietly, seated on the edge of the bed and fighting hard not to beg for another chance at winning the bet.

While the producers babbled on to each other about where to go from their current point, Felix stepped forward from where he'd been observing the entire time the others tried to figure out what it was you liked. You'd reacted well to everything they'd done so far; Hyunjin's size, Jisung's restraining, Minho's manhandling, and then Seungmin's spanking. There was no way in Hell you didn't enjoy the more hard-hitting kinks and the like - so he was going to take his chance while the others whined to each other about losing the bet. Besides, they were working against each other - not with.

"Move." Felix hums, gently nudging Minho aside. The older of the two surprisingly complies with ease and steps aside to watch Felix with close eyes, his hands settling on your ass before rubbing down to your hips. There's no hold, no grabbing - no slapping, spanking, bruising or restraining. No, Felix's hands are gentle as they rub over your skin, smoothing down the swell of your ass before giving a teasing squeeze and trailing lower. He settles his hands along your thighs before using his thumbs to spread your pussy open just for him to see - and for Minho to get a glance at.

Chris tips his head as he watches, eyes drawn away from Jisung and Changbin when Felix had stepped forward to take a shot at the prize. "Felix, wait. We should figure out what --"

But then he stops, lips popping apart in pure surprise at the utter filthiness of the younger man placed behind you.

Just as you lift your head to peek up in slight confusion at their constant rambling - and the feeling of someone's hands on you from behind who definitely was not Minho - Felix spits on your pussy.

It splatters on the pink of your skin, mixing with the slick that seems to gush from your aching, empty hole - and Felix watches as you clench around nothing in desperation. Yeah, he'd just won the bet.

"Shit," falls from Hyunjin's lips before he can help it, staring down the brunet who he wasn't aware until now was quite so.. dirty. His eyes dart from Felix over to where you lay, your reaction giving everything away; The way you bury your face down in the sheets as a strangled and shy moan rips from your throat; The way your cheeks burn a crimson hue none of them had seen all night. Even your ears tint pink in embarrassment that your dirty little secret had been revealed.

Jeongin, finally sitting forward and reaching to cup your cheeks in one of his hands, tips your head to face him so you can't quite hide away from them no matter how much you want to. "Look at me," he demands, voice soft but firm with instruction. "Open." And the others watch as you obey so sweetly for your boyfriend, lips falling apart and jaw completely slack so he can spit right onto your tongue - your mouth closing so you can swallow it before whimpering out in need of more.

And Felix - well, he's in Heaven. He'd took his shot and won the bet, belt everyone else out of the water no matter how hard they tried to figure you out - and he'd done it just by standing back and watching. His chest swells with pride and excitement at the knowledge that now, he got to receive his prize; That being you for at long as he wanted - or as long as he could last, he supposed. There was no way he was giving you back up to Jeongin before he was milked dry. And what kind of a friend would he be if he didn't pump you full before he returned you to your rightful owner?

"Get out." His voice is low in his chest, demanding everyone else leave so he could have his time with you. He needed it more than anything at the moment - you two shared the exact same kink and he was sure now he'd put that knowledge to good use, maybe even treat you so well with it that you wouldn't want to go crawling back to your boyfriend. But more importantly, you needed it, too, what with the way you were still clenching around nothing and just begging for him to spit on your pretty pussy again.

As the others file out the bedroom door, Jeongin chuckles low in his throat and leans forward to give you a quick kiss before he departs. His thumb slides over your cheek, gentle and soft - soothing before the heated, lust-filled ache that was bound to come in the following hours. His lips were like Heaven - like home - as they pressed against yours in a promise that once Felix was done with you - done with his reward for winning the bet and getting to use you like a toy for as long as he wanted - he would return and greet you with a warm embrace to give you as much care as you needed. Not that he doubted Felix would treat you well. Jeongin took a moment to peek down at where your wrists were still bound together with Jisung's belt, moving a hand down to hook a finger around the leather to give a gentle tug. He smiled against your lips, thumb tugging at the lower as he slowly pulled away to whisper,

"I'm going to leave this here. Good luck, baby."

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek

[cloakedpress]

How to Write Better Characters: Roles, Motivation & Actually Making People Care

Let’s be real: your story can have the coolest magic system, the twistiness of the plot, or the hottest vampire/detective/alien—  

but if your characters are flat?  

Nobody’s sticking around.

So let’s break down how to give your characters real presence in your story by understanding their role, their motivation, and how to make them hit harder on the page.

1. What’s Their Role in the Story?

Every character needs a *reason to exist*. Think of them like parts in a machine. What do they *do* in your narrative?

Here are a few basic types:

- Protagonist: The one we’re rooting for. They drive the plot forward.

- Antagonist: The one in their way. Doesn’t have to be evil—just opposed.

- Foil: Someone who reflects the main character’s traits by contrast.

- Mentor: Offers wisdom, often with a tragic backstory or dramatic exit.

- Love Interest: Romantic tension? Check. But make sure they’re *more* than just eye candy.

- Wildcard: Unpredictable chaos gremlin. Every story needs one.

TIP: If you can remove a character without changing the plot? You probably should.

2. What Do They Want? (AKA Motivation)

This is the *core* of your character. Motivation makes everything feel real. Ask yourself:

- What does this character want more than anything?

- Why do they want it?

- What are they willing to do (or give up) to get it?

Bonus points if their motivation is in conflict with someone else’s. That’s where the juicy drama lives.

Ex: “She wants to save her sister. He wants to save the world. One bomb. One choice.”    Now we’re COOKING.

3. How Do You Show It?

Motivation isn’t just monologues and dramatic speeches. It’s in:

- What they *notice* first in a room.

- Who they *trust* (or don’t).

- The mistakes they keep repeating.

- The lies they tell *themselves*.

A character who’s obsessed with control might organize their bag mid-crisis.  

A character desperate to be loved might make themselves useful to everyone… even villains.

4. Let Them Be Messy

Perfect characters are boring.  

Give them contradictions. Regrets. Bad coping mechanisms. Let them be *wrong*. Let them grow.

Characters who never fail or change = characters nobody relates to.

Let your soft boys punch someone. Let your bad girls cry. Let your villains have a point.

5. Ask Yourself the Hard Stuff

- What would break this character?

- What line won’t they cross?

- Who are they when no one’s watching?

If you can answer these? You *know* your character.

6. Level Up: Relationships Matter

Characters don’t exist in a vacuum. Use dynamics to reveal depth:

- A character might be brave in a fight but terrified of disappointing their mentor.

- A flirty rogue might go speechless around the person they actually care about.

- A villain’s cruelty might soften around their childhood friend.

People are different with different people. Show it.

 TL;DR:  

Great characters = clear role + deep motivation + real emotion. 

Make them want things. Make them struggle. Make them human (even if they’re a dragon princess from space).

Want help building a specific character? Drop their name + vibe in my ask box. Let’s break them open together.

[floweycidal]

deltarune chapter 3 + 4 spoilers under the cut!!

if susie wants to be a box, she will.

the universe can scribble down all the tragic endings it likes. destiny can draft all the plans it pleases.

but if there's a spot next to susie where you belong, that's where you're going to be. prophecy be damned.

susie's never been one to confine herself to prescribed roles.

you really think she’s gonna start now?

doesn't matter who’s doing the talking - teacher, tyrant, time itself. if the call is for unquestioned submission, she’s already halfway out the door.

she can’t burn the pages, can’t erase the words or scrub out the subtext.

but she can drag her heels across every sacred line. love so fiercely the glass begins to fog. care so loudly the plot forgets its course.

the ending may be scheduled. might already be rounding the corner, actually. 

still, i believe susie can stall it. trip it up. make it stutter. doubt.

susie is resistance, knuckles white.

susie is hope, everything bright.

watch her grab hold of someone's despair and shake it until it rattles apart. 

watch her look at inevitability and laugh until it gets nervous. 

watch her plant her feet on ground that was supposed to give way and discover that some things are more stubborn than gravity.

the prophecy longed for order. dutifulness. clean lines. it wanted "heroes" who stuck to the script, who saved the world quietly, who knew their role and stayed in it.

and for the most part… that was ralsei.

the one who guides, who heals, who smiles no matter how much it hurts.

he's never asked for more than what the prophecy offered. never reached beyond his lines.

ralsei's lived his whole life like a beautifully penned footnote - important, but never central.

he believes being good means being useful.

he doesn’t ask. doesn’t want. doesn’t dream.

his room is empty... because no one ever told him he was allowed to want something just for himself.

his desire has always been to be needed, never to need.

he bakes for us. sings for us. sews for us.

keeps giving and giving and giving,

believing that is what earns him a place to stay.

but... susie doesn’t keep him around for what he offers. she does so simply because he is ralsei.

because conversations are more fun when he's in them, because someone's got to groan at his terrible attempts at sarcasm, because someone has to look him dead in the eyes and tell him he is real and can't be cast aside.

susie is hope. blinding, blistering hope.

every time she batters her way through the destined writ, her friends get another moment to exist and be by her side.

every bone she picks with fate is one more heartbeat they get to feel.

and that. that is all she needs. 

you don’t have to be chosen to choose. frankly, susie doesn’t give a single, solitary, shining blue fuck about what’s been foretold and decided for us. the second destiny tries to threaten those she loves - she’s already standing in its way.

this world seems hellbent on racing toward a single ending.

but if that’s where it ends up, it’ll only be because susie isn't letting it go anywhere else.

and if you spend enough time beside someone who refuses to stay in their lane.... you start wondering why you ever stayed in yours.

if susie wants to be a box, she will.

and soon... ralsei will too.

[sweetinsaniiity]

hiii i have a cnc/dubcon request for san ^^

imagine hard dom!san is about to enlist and his s/o knows how much she'll miss him so she gives him 24 hrs free use. the moment he hears this he can't fall asleep, waits til the clock strikes 12 and starts fucking her in her sleep until she wakes up. throughout the day he doesn't let her rest, making her cockwarm if he's too tired. when the 24hrs is almost up, san doesn't care but she notices, tries to reach for her phone to check the time but he just pins her arm down and fucks her even harder for another few hours

(maybe some cum play would be the cherry on top, san scooping it out to make room for more, then trying to push it back in with his fingers but it keeps gushing out so he fucks it back in, or maybe even making comments about how she'll still be dripping by the time he's discharged)

Admittedly, this was not the easiest thing to procure as this lies beyond my accustomed sphere - out my comfort zone, per se. Not the CNC part, but the free use. But alas, yours truly will always rise to the challenge. I'm hoping this was worth the wait.

Unaware and Unawake

genre/au: nonchalant!Sannie, borderline emotionally constipated but he does genuinely love you, established relationship, military au, not my usual thing tbh because this is a lot of filth rating/warning: PG-18+ so MDNI!!! CNC and dubcon (all completely and explicitly consensual) free use, somnophilia, multiple creampie, multiple orgasm, cockwarming (both pussy and mouth), dacryphilia, cum play, dom!San, creampie, no protection (do NOT do this!) word count: 9.7K words (got carried away with the plot)

He tried his very hardest to control the smallest tick on his facial muscles as he stared at your big, pretty doe eyes looking up at him with such uncertainty. 

There was also deep sadness laced underneath all the storm that was brewing in them. San wanted nothing but to reassure you that the both of you were going to be okay, but that wasn’t within his rights because for obvious reasons, he can’t control the way you felt.

“Are you sure about this, San? Tell me,” you frowned deeper, processing the information that he just told you over what you thought would be an uneventful dinner one night. 

San had just told you the biggest and most unexpected news he could possibly drop on you - that he was enlisting in the military this upcoming Monday. That was in three days.

“I mean, I’m not trying to change your mind, not at all,” you murmured. “I’m just curious about your thought process, that’s all.”

You watch him sigh ever so slightly, looking back down on his dinner plate, slicing away at the wonderful steak dinner you had prepared for him tonight. 

“Are you?” San asked, continuing his slicing with a slow, deliberate motion. He didn’t look at you, didn’t shift and didn’t fidget. It was as if he just told you the current weather situation.

You didn’t take offense at his indifference - not at all. Choi San was just naturally calm, impassive, and stoic. Sometimes, it was mistaken by other people as standoffish and arrogant, but that’s just how your boyfriend was. He was a man of very few words. 

Maybe there was something wrong with you. You found this attitude on him insatiably hot, especially the rare times he’d show his softer side to you and you only. He wasn’t particularly outright with his affection, but he would reach out to you every moment he could. 

“I suppose,” you shrugged. “I just want to make sure you’ve thought about this well. It just seemed logical to ask, that's all.”

San put the steak in his mouth, meeting your gaze once more. His expression was unreadable - calm, detached, the way he always was. He chewed exaggeratedly, trying to hide the smirk threatening to break his stoicism.

Logical. It was how you were, it was how he was. It was what this relationship was solely built upon. It was like picking a gum flavour in a randomest, dinkiest petrol station situated in the corner of nowhere and not something that would take him away from you, from this - from everything.

But there was fondness in San’s eyes as he stared at you through his lashes. He never tells you enough how much he appreciates you.

You’ve never questioned the way his mind functioned, never second-guessed on supporting him through his decisions no matter how illogical they may sound. You were just there, and he knew that you’d still be there by his side through thick and thin.

Still, it didn’t mean it didn’t pain him to tell you that he was deciding to leave you for the time being and get his military enlistment out of the way. It wasn’t a one and done decision; it was something he’d stewed in and stressed about for weeks.

“I did,” he answered. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you and I could build our life together. I just want to get it over with.”

He casts a discreet gaze on the small drawer he’d put a gift he bought earlier in the day that reminded him of you. San was aware of how nonchalant he comes off, and he was trying his very best to show you that he loved you to the moon and back even though he doesn’t say it often.

He quickly averts his eyes before you notice. You were nothing but keen and observant, after all. Instead, he grabs the small folder that’s been set to his left. He slides it towards you casually like it was a takeout menu.

“Sign it,” he whispered, handing you a pen, purposefully not saying anything about the confused frown on your face.

You stared at San’s impassive face for a couple of seconds before tentatively opening the folder. Your brows automatically raise up to your hairline.

Legal paperwork. Temporary transfer of ownership of San’s business that he built from scratch before he even met you. Your lips quivered as the pen on your hand shook from the nerves, trying hard to concentrate on what the contract in front of you entailed. It was the least you could do.

San found success in starting his own property management company. It was his pride and joy. Every surface of the business he perfected over years, every drop of his blood, sweat and tears combined with all his burned out youth - it was all in there, wrapped up in black ink and legal terms.

And he was asking you to sign your name on it like he was asking to see what your handwriting looked like. Your fingers traced the edge of the paper.

“You trust me that much? San, this is big,” you bit your bottom lip, trying to mask how touched you were by the gesture.

He didn’t answer right away. San crossed his arms, watching your face get more and more emotional by the minute like he hadn’t just handed you the only thing he ever truly loved, besides yourself, of course.

He raised a playful brow, tilting his head - another rare show of how much he let himself loose in your presence. Truly, you had no idea how amazing you were to San. If only he knew how to express himself better.

“It’s either you, or I close the business for two years until I come back,” he finally said, voice low and sincere. “I know I don’t say it much, and I’m truly sorry, my love, but it never meant that I don’t mean it.”

You immediately shook your head at him, wagging the pen in front of his face for effect, too. San’s lips quirked up in the corners, barely anything to be considered a smile, making you giggle out loud. Music to his ears.

“I don’t need you to tell me,” you smiled sweetly at him. “I can feel it, San. I know you love me.”

The decision wasn’t lost on you. The pen dragged smoothly onto the paper, imprinting the utmost trust that San had placed on you. It was far better than love, if someone asked you. Trust was difficult to come by.

But then, you saw it. When San thought you weren’t paying enough attention to him, a real smile passed through his lips. He probably didn’t even notice it, himself. It was the type that brought out his gorgeous dimples that you loved poking to annoy him.

It made your heart skip a beat. Suddenly, a thought crosses your head. Instead of sliding the folder across the coffee table like a transaction, you stood up. 

San looked confused, but you walked over to him, slow and steady, and placed it gently back in his hands, a small smirk painting your face. His eyes shifted to you, calm but alert. And just like that, the air between you two changed.

He took the folder, but didn’t move away. “You always were bossy,” he murmured, almost like it was an afterthought.

“Please. You love it.”

His brow twitched, maybe the hint of amusement, maybe something else. He hadn’t stepped back, and neither had you. Something in that expression brought something out of you, and you wanted to make the most out of it.

You placed your leg in between his, dangerously close to that area that ruled San’s head sometimes. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, desire clear in his haze.

It was a defense mechanism on your end. You didn’t want to think about how much you were going to miss San when he was gone, you had plenty of time for that when you’re alone, but the very thought of it was already getting to you. You wanted to be strong for the both of you. The last thing you wanted was for San to worry about you as well when he was away.

You didn’t want his body to be there, but his heart at home with you. He wasn’t going to change his mind. He had probably decided this weeks ago, long before he thought to mention it. 

You curled your fingers on his shirt collar, dragging him towards you. The gesture darkened his eyes significantly. You bit your lip to stop your smile, and instead leaned down further, close enough that your breath ghosted warm against his skin, just below his ear.

“You’ve got twenty-four hours,” you whispered, voice low and velvet-smooth. “Free use. No questions asked. You can do whatever you want with me,” you bit his earlobe softly. San groaned, shivering. “And I mean, anything.”

You knew he was going to miss you, too. Maybe even more than you’ll miss him.

San’s jaw clenched so tight, you were slightly afraid that he was going to break in his teeth, his fingers tightened ever so slightly around the folder, the corners crinkled badly. You reckoned you needed to re-print the whole thing now.

You grinned widely, this rush of power suddenly surging through you making you giddy. He turned his head just enough that your lips nearly brushed.

“Dangerous thing to offer,” San said, voice a shade rougher now. His eyes met yours in a heated stare, the intensity of it almost making you falter. Almost.

You subconsciously clenched down there, scoffing at him. “I’m not scared of you.”

His eyes flicked over your face, pausing at your mouth. That almost-smile from earlier threatened to return, but didn’t. The tension was killing you, but you weren’t going to back down. You wanted to see how far San would take your offer, how far you could push him before he broke.

“Not yet, no,” he said, prying your fingers from his collar and pushing you gently away from him so he could stand up and tower over you and smirk cockily at you. Oh, that definitely made you clench harder. “But you should be.”

But that night as San lay on his back, arms folded under his head, staring at the ceiling like it might have the answers, he couldn’t sleep. Turns out, he was the one scared.

He’d tried to brush it off, told himself you were just teasing him and just trying to get a reaction, but your voice echoed in his head like you had whispered it into his bones.

You’ve got twenty-four hours.

And he did tell you that it was a very, very dangerous thing to offer. The possibilities were endless, but that wasn’t what he was worried about.

San meant it when he said that it was literally dangerous. He will break you, and the worst part was that he will have the time of his life seeing your eyes roll behind your head as he made you come over and over again, and even then, he wouldn’t stop. 

He turned his head slightly, just enough to see your sleeping form beside him. Your back, the curve of your shoulders rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm as you snoozed away, unaware of the nastiest, most sadistic thoughts slowly forming in San’s head.

Those thoughts sent blood rushing down south. With a deep breath, he carefully lowered his boxers, just enough for his aching, leaking cock to spring free from its confines. He hissed when cold air hit his skin, but it wasn’t enough to deter how hard and erect he was just by looking at your bare shoulders and neck.

Oh, how he’d love to mark your skin akin to a world map, only purplish in bruises instead of the multiple countries he’d take you after he was discharged.

Fine, he thought. He would use you like the whore you were. His right hand would be his only companion for months after he enlists, pretending it was your pussy instead.

San glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, groaning and gritting his teeth in annoyance when the clock showed 11:45 P.M. You didn’t explicitly say when to start, but San knew better than to jump you immediately. 

He smirked cruelly, you thought you were so slick, always thinking that you had him figured out, but he knew you like the back of his hand. You were definitely expecting him to immediately take your offer, but no, he was going to milk his time.

San grasped his cock, sighing in a quiet but sharp breath, biting his lips to keep his pleasured groans to himself so as not to wake you up. He was harder than he has ever been in his life, and ironically, he wasn’t even doing anything with you. His eyes raked at your sleeping figure, squeezing his weeping cock tighter in his hand.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long unless he paced himself, but he couldn’t help tugging his cock a bit back and forth, up and down, the sound of his fists slapping against his shaft turning him on more than ever. 

He couldn’t believe it - he was literally jerking off next to you as he slept. He felt dirty, but the thought of it could almost make him bust. He used his palm to rub some of his precum as lube, but when that wasn’t enough, he positioned his hand in front of his mouth to spit on it.

But, he stopped at the last minute. He looked at the clock once again, rolling his eyes when he realized that three minutes had only passed. 

He waited a bit to see if you were going to move, but no, you hadn’t. You were still sleeping, still peaceful. Carefully, he scooted beside you, his face hovering over you slightly until his fingers found your lips, delicately parting them so he could coat them with your saliva.

When that was said and done, he laid back down comfortably and closed his eyes, stroking his cock with your saliva as his lube. The filthiness of it made his cock twitch in his hand. 

He was extremely turned on and he was so excited that he almost finished right there and then, but he didn’t waver as he continued to stoke away as he stared at your beautiful face. But he’d waited, kept himself patient and let the tension grow as he held breath.

The minutes couldn’t have rolled slower, but the moment the clock said 12:00 A.M., he didn’t hesitate.

He shifted forward, arm sliding around your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. You stirred with a soft inhale, and for a second, he froze. He thought you were waking up, maybe he was a little too excited, but you weren’t.

A short, sarcastic laughter of disbelief escapes him. San couldn’t believe it, but more so, towards himself. He realized he didn’t want you awake. You waking up would mean that the excitement would be gone.

You were still asleep, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen to you.

The thought of it actually put a slight damper on his erection. An evil smirk decorates his face as he resisted the urge to wrap his hand on your pretty neck. Despite that thought, he wouldn’t mind you waking up in the process of him defiling your body. It got him harder than he thought he already was.

It aroused him greatly. The thought of how forbidden this all was. However, he had explicit permission from you. Still, he wouldn’t want to hurt you.

San carefully pushed up the oversized shirt you liked wearing to sleep and admired your exposed body. He caught sight of your perky tits, they were just the right size for him and his hands. He didn’t hesitate further and caught your nipples between his fingers.

When all you did was let out a small, pitiful whimper in your sleep, it was when it fully hit him. You were really at his mercy. It intoxicated him, all this power.

He stroked his cock as he played with your nipples, pinching them a little harder than usual just to see if you were going to stir. This time he couldn’t help but furrow his brows, he didn’t realize you slept this heavily.

As he continued to knead the soft flesh of your breasts, his eyes suddenly went down on your parting lips, your light snores filling in his ears. The idea of his cock in your mouth as you snored started to arouse him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered, hovering over you, careful not to crush you beneath him as he started to line up his cock onto your plush, inviting lips. 

A surge of pleasure shoots up his spine at the sight. A desire for excitement at the thought of him doing something technically morally wrong gave him a sort of kick he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

He leaned down, giving your forehead a gentle, chaste kiss before he filthily inserted two of his fingers inside your mouth, exploring the wet cavern roughly, not even caring if you woke up at this point. 

“Fuck,” San hissed as he slid his cock into your mouth. He withdrew, not wanting to choke you in your sleep, but he couldn’t help but chase that euphoric sensation and thrust back in ever so slightly so you wouldn’t be startled awake and, well, actually choke.

He worked his way down your body, his right hand mindlessly alternating between kneading and squeezing your tits while his left played with your dripping cunt, rubbing at your clit slowly and rhythmically.

Just when he thought that this couldn’t get any better, you started to make weak, suckling motions on his cock as if in sleep, you knew that you had to please San. You twitched a little when he jerked a bit and pressed on your clit a little too hard in surprise, but that didn’t rouse you or stop your sucking.

It was the most peaceful San had ever seen you, if it wasn’t for your mouth stuffed full of his cock. He barely had time to pull out and come on your chin and neck, his warmth spurting out in bursts of endless streams.

Sweat pooled on his temples. He smirked, what a sight you were - covered in his cum without even knowing. If his painting skills weren’t garbage, he would immortalize this on a canvas.

Unfortunately, he had to wipe all of it away before he covered you again with the blankets. He was spent for the night, so he went to the bathroom to douse himself in cold water before he went back and tried to sleep beside you.

But he couldn’t sleep, for the life of him. He cursed under his breath so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if God suddenly struck him with lightning. He pictured your face streaked with his cum once more, and it was enough for him to get aroused again.

He could feel his cock twitching and pulsing in his boxers again. He wondered how in the world he could feel so aroused when he had just orgasmed.

He tossed and turned, tried to erase the erotic image of you away from his head. San even started to picture dead animals and some random images of naked grannies in his head to will his erection to, hopefully, go away, but to no avail. He wanted you, and he wanted you so, so bad.

It was well into the wee hours of the morning when he decided that he was going to have you, consequences be damned. This time, he was going to have you in the way that you deserved. He was going to put you in your place.

It was almost four in the morning when he parted your legs open. Usually, he took his time to finger you and get you nice and prepped for him, but he could barely wait to be inside your warm heat this time. San hugged you from behind, spooning you while he nudged the tip of his cock at your entrance, groaning when he slipped easily inside. 

He went slow at first, still not wanting to hurt you, but gradually, he shifted and decided to fuck you while he was on top. He couldn’t take it anymore, he fully jammed himself deeper in you and fucked you fast and hard, his balls slapping lewdly against your ass.

You stirred under him, startled awake. At first, you were confused at the tingly, delicious feeling penetrating you, until you locked eyes with San who was just going at it on top of you. He smirked at you as he claimed your pussy, and the moan that you let out was loud enough to wake up every single person in the neighbourhood.

“Sannie, mmm, s-shit,” you stuttered, still stumbling over your words as you were still half-asleep,

San wrapped an arm around your lower back, effectively burying himself completely deeper, hitting that spot inside you that had you squealing in delight. “Don’t fight it, let me have you,” he kissed your jaw, his silent growls hitting your ears as he continued with his onslaught.

It was when you realized how sticky your mouth kind of felt. After a moment, arousal spread through you when you realized that you were tasting warm cum on your tongue. Had San already had his fill with you before you even woke up?

The thought had you wrapping your arms around San’s broad shoulders, scratching at his back in retaliation, though it didn’t diminish how much it turned you on that he took you without you knowing. 

“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” San growled as he thrust in your cunt roughly without any mercy. He wouldn’t stop now that he could do whatever the hell he wanted with you.

You fluttered, squeezed, around him. “Damn, that feels good,” he grunted. He didn’t need to stay quiet any longer, he could curse and groan as loudly as he damn well pleased now that you were fully awake.

“Oh God, p-please,” you lifted your hips up the bed, placing your hands on San’s plump behind to get him deeper inside you. 

San grinned, his growls sound more primal through his teeth. He had known you were perfect, so perfect for him, but this just completely solidified it. You were so responsive to him, gasping as your pussy took him.

It didn’t take long for him to burst, his hips drilling into you hardly one last time before his seed painted your tight hole white. He felt your nails scrape across his back, and through the haze of his orgasm, he could feel your orgasm peek through, albeit less strong than the usual ones he’d give you.

“Had fun?” You asked with a small giggle as San panted on top of you.

“No,” he smirked cockily, rolling his hips when you pouted. He groaned, his soft cock sliding out from the mess of cum he’d dumped into you. One of many today. “Not yet.” 

You were starting to regret your decision. Well, not entirely, anyway. You should’ve known how shrewd and cunning San was, but you had severely underestimated him. 

When you woke up a few hours later, San wasn’t on the bed with you anymore. That was fine because you knew he was most likely doing his daily morning jogs. If he had time, he’d usually get you coffee and croissants along the way, too.

Definitely a man of few words, but an absolutely consistent man of actions. But just in case he didn’t have time, you decided to make breakfast. 

You were standing at the stove, in the process of oiling it and putting the heat on, when you heard the front door open, San’s familiar footsteps filling in the silence of the kitchen.

“Hey, love,” you murmured when you felt him behind you.

He hummed, not bothering to say a word, as he circled his hand up to your waist and pulled your face to his for a quick peck on the lips. You bit back a smile when he set down your coffee and croissants to the side.

You were expecting him to sit on the table to wait for you to finish, but he repositioned himself behind you, his warm breath hitting the back of your neck. You shivered at the contact, and it definitely wasn’t because of the morning breeze.

At first, he was tender. San nosed your jaw, his teeth light grazing the sensitive parts of your neck. You let out a breathy moan when he reached up and palmed your breasts through your shirt - well, it was technically his shirt -  your nipples hardening against his teasing hands.

You tried to turn and kiss him again, but he held you tight, grinding his hips against your ass with his half-hard cock. It was when you felt him snap. 

He grabbed your hips hard - hard enough to leave marks. “S-San,” you whined in pain when he pinched your nipples, squirming against his touch.

“Shut your mouth,” he grumbled, thoroughly turned on at the sight of you wearing his shirt, lifting it enough to grab a handful of your plump ass.

You had expected restraint. Maybe something slow, almost sweet. But no, that wasn't how he worked, not when the clock struck and the rules were finally gone by your own accord.

He wasn’t just taking what you offered it - he was owning it. You felt it in the way his grip tightened when you gasped and in the way his mouth found your throat like it had been waiting for permission to devour you.

And he was going to swallow you whole like it was the first war he intended to win before he even enlisted. 

“San, slow down—oh!”

You choked out audibly when he didn’t hesitate to rip his shirt off of you in pieces. With a harsh tug, he turns you around, dragging you like a ragdoll towards his direction. “No, this twenty-four hours is mine,” he barked. “Come here.”

And he did something you were not expecting, not in a million years. You yelped when his arms swept across the table like a madman, the table and the whole house shaking as all the plates, mugs, and glassware you set on the table all crashed down the floor, the sharp edges of broken pieces scattering like shrapnel.

Your jaw dropped, startled. “San! What the hell—”

He spun you to face him, hands firm, eyes dark with something you hadn’t seen in him before - something that wasn’t just hunger, but need. It was nothing short of raw and wild.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he said, voice low and tight, like it was dragged from somewhere deep. 

His mouth was on yours before you could speak. He kissed the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, leaving a trail of heat as he pressed you back against the table, reckless and relentless.

“You broke everything,” you whispered against his lips, half-laughing, half-breathless.

“I’ll buy you the whole damn store when I get back.”

He was lifting you onto the edge of the counter, hands gripping your thighs, the sound of broken ceramic crackle as he moved. But he didn’t flinch, because to him, nothing mattered in that moment except you.

Not the mess. Not the noise. Not the goodbye waiting on the other side of the sunrise.

You didn’t need prepping, San was able to slip inside you once more with ease. He didn’t wait for you to adjust, he immediately started a rough pace that had the table underneath you shaking with the force of his thrust.

“Ah, yes,” he laughed sadistically as he fucked into you roughly. “This is what I want.”

You couldn’t do anything except open your mouth to let out the most wanton of moans and just take the delicious abuse of his cock hitting pleasurably inside of you. You moved your hands to try and grab the edges of the table, but San stopped you.

“No, no, no, my little slut,” he growled, slapping them off, making you whimper, the slight sting of it going straight down your fluttering pussy. “Hands and eyes on me.”

You rolled your eyes at the back of your head, mumbling something out loud that turned out to be gibberish. “What was that?” San snapped.

“H-Harder,” you whimpered, drool pooling at the sides of your mouth and flowing out down the table. San’s cock grew impossibly harder at how cock dumb you looked right now. “Harder, San, harder—”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he ploughed, harder at your command per curse.

He wasn’t going to last long and you knew it. His hands wrap around your neck, using it as momentum to push you deeper and deeper onto his throbbing erection, like his goal was to have your guts rearranged by the time he was done.

He stills, his warmth spilling inside of you once more. A growl resounds from the back of his throat as he slapped his hips two more times before he let go of your neck. “You okay?” San asked, tucking your hair behind your ears, his voice hoarse, cracking in the middle.

You pouted. “I didn’t come.”

He raised a brow, a ghost of a smirk threatening to break from his lips. “I know,” he chuckled darkly. “I’m gonna pull out, yeah? Put your legs up.”

You frowned, but moaned anyway when he pulled out, pushing your legs high up in the air. He leaned down, laughing smugly as he stared lewdly down there. You blushed in embarrassment, but didn’t say anything.

“Holy fucking shit, I came a lot,” he shook his head in amusement. “Shit, that’s a lot of cum.”

You were about to retort something ridiculous when he turned back to look at you, all amusement gone from his eyes. “I’m going to take a nap,” he mumbled with a hint of command in it. “You better not let any drop of this out. Not a single one.”

Your face turns even redder at how filthy his request was - how it turned you on to not be able to say no. “B-but how? I-I don’t know how to,” you sputtered out.

He shrugged. “Not my problem.”

Even after he carried you to the couch so you wouldn’t step on glass, and even after he had cleaned up and vacuumed all the mess, that smug smirk never left his lips.

You resorted to clenching your pussy so his sperm wouldn’t drip out of you. God, you thought. It was so filthy, so dirty, and something you never thought San would ever ask of you. But you loved every bit of it.

You went and did your daily routine, San’s cum still inside of your clenched cunt. It was difficult, sometimes you’d forget and you’d feel the sticky warmth begin to trail down, but before it oozed out, you would clench back again.

You decided to go to the bathroom to check - even the thought of this made you blush as if you and San hadn’t just fucked on the kitchen table - just to see the state of your pussy full of San’s cum when you were suddenly pulled into the bedroom where San was napping.

“S-San?” You yelped when his sharp eyes took in your form, his tongue darting out to lick his lips salaciously.

“Take your clothes off,” was all he said.

It was how you found yourself face down on the bed, your hips up in the air with your legs sprawled open for San to admire your glistening hole. He groaned, seeing all his cum still contained inside your inviting pussy.

“What a good girl,” he chuckled darkly, trying to contain his excitement at the prospect of you literally doing anything he wanted even if it’s just for today. “You deserve a reward.”

He slid a finger into your soaking, wet opening, pushing his trickling seed inside you. It produced an obscene, squelching sound that went straight to his aching cock. Without thinking, he dived in, his tongue automatically latching on your swollen clit as he teased your cunt with little swirls.

“W-What are you doing, San,” you squirmed, slightly alarmed, fisting the bed sheets so tight, your knuckles turned white.

It was completely fueled by passion on his end. He moved his head lower, running his tongue up and down your slit and flicked it back and forth over your clit. Pushing his tongue into you, his mouth was assaulted by the salty, slightly bitter, taste of his own cum. It was certainly a new experience for him, but nonetheless, it served to turn him on even more.

You had begun to relax, pushing your ass subconsciously on San’s face. He was more than happy to oblige, his rough hands gripping on your thighs as he ate you out with more urgency.

He dove two fingers back into you, all the while he alternated between sucking your clit and finger-fucking you. He moved faster, making you moan loudly. You were so loud, it spurred him on even more.

“Oh, G-God, San, San, San,” you screamed when he hit that particular spot deep inside of you with just his fingers.

But it was the vibrations of his laughter that had you exploding on his face. He felt your pussy pulsate on his fingers, and it was when he knew that you had come. 

You kept trembling with every touch, and he wanted to gloat, but all that died down when he heard your sniffles. He quickly laid down beside you, your ass still in the air, and shushed you. “Too much?” San frowned.

You shook your head, your tears still falling. “Just overstimulated.”

“Good or bad?”

You laughed wetly. “Are you kidding me? That was amazing.”

You leaned in to kiss him, mewling when his lips felt sticky with his own release from eating you out. Without thinking, you grabbed onto his crotch, pleased to find that he was very much hard underneath your fingers.

It was all he needed to position himself behind you, his cock snug inside your wet heat once more. It was slow and easy this time - he didn’t want to overstimulate you further, but the truth was, the sight of you crying lit up a fire inside him that he didn’t know existed.

He rolled his hips roughly once just to see your reaction. Just as expected, more tears of overstimulation flew from your eyes. He felt his cock twitch, and before he knew it, he was ramming into you like an animal in heat.

“Look at me,” he demanded roughly, slapping your ass once to get your attention.

Your eyes were wet with tears, the mascara you were wearing running down your face. “Oh my fucking God,” San moaned, whined, ravaging you from behind so hard, your head had hit the headboard multiple times from the sheer force of his thrusts.

When he finished, you were expecting him to make you keep his cum inside you again for God-knows-how-long, but what you were not expecting was for him to go back down on you again before hovering over you.

“Open your mouth, love,” he coaxed, tapping your chin to get you to stay awake.  

He tilted his head down, his tongue already out before you knew it.Your breath hitched when you saw the obscene trail of semen spill from his tongue before drops of it fell straight into your mouth.

God, it was so sloppy. He smirked, mouth still opened up. Every second stretched out, drawn out like he wanted you to feel everything.

When it was over, you swallowed, throat burning. He pulled back, eyes dark. “You okay?” San asked, voice rough.

You nodded, barely sentient, and his smile told you he knew exactly what he’d done.

You’d like to believe your relationship with San was ordinary. Not in a bad way, you did feel like every couple out there. You loved each other dearly, you fought ferociously, and throughout all of those, you stuck with each other despite your very obvious flaws. 

But one thing you never thought you’d have to think about was how truly, utterly insatiable San was today. 

“Sannie, ngh,” you whined pathetically, your cunt squeezing his cock weakly.

He groaned, sighing, as he wrapped his arms around you tightly from behind. “Get some rest,” he said tiredly, voice rough with the need to sleep.

After that sloppy session of him eating his cum and making you eat it in return, he fucked you twice some more, an hour apart from each other. They were both slow and lazy, but both mind blowing, nonetheless.

Needless to say, your body felt like it’s been run through with a pick up truck. You were exhausted.

And San was, too, but clearly, that wasn’t enough to deter him. You were lying peacefully on the bed, just browsing through your phone while San showered. When he came out, he laid down next to you, inserting himself back inside you, his cock hard but unmoving.

“B-But how?” You blurted out, wrapping the blanket around your naked body, ignoring how full you currently felt down there.

“By being a good cock sleeve and letting you cockwarm me,” San replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Maybe it was your body giving out on you from the strenuous activity of the continuous sex, or maybe it was how warm and safe you felt being in San’s arms, but by the grace of God, you were able to fall asleep, San’s cock still snug inside you while he, himself, snored away.

Luckily, he left you alone for a couple of hours. You woke up late in the afternoon when the sun was almost down, your entire body sore. You were saddened when you found that San wasn’t lying beside you - though if you were being completely honest, you just wanted to wake up stuffed full of cock.

“Dummy,” you giggled fondly, shaking your head as you read the note that he left on the nightstand, stating that he had ordered some food for you and left it in the kitchen.

You tried not to feel down as you got dressed and went down to eat. San had to leave to settle his company because when he enlists soon, the temporary ownership he was transferring to you was going to be a massive change, after all.

Luckily, you wouldn’t need too much time to adjust. You loved San so much that you took it upon yourself to learn the intricacies of his company, staying up late with him for so many nights to help him out even though you barely knew what you were doing.

He would never say it out loud, but the fondness in his eyes as he looked at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking told you enough. San was always more than happy to answer your every question.

But you knew why he was doing this. He had co-owners, seven of them, to be exact, who were his lifelong best friends. He could have chosen one of them to run the company while he was gone. They were more than competent and would be a more viable option than you’d ever be.

San didn’t give it to you because it made the most sense, he gave it to you because you made sense to him.

You closed your eyes, forgetting the kitchen that surrounded you and just focused on the sensation of San’s hands holding onto you, the ghost of his touch guarding your thoughts.

The thoughts he knew because he knew you like the back of his hands; he knew how your mind functioned and spiralled, especially if left alone for too long.

He hadn’t just trusted you with his empire, he was protecting you.

You could think clearer now that his cock wasn’t plugging your cunt and your mind. He didn’t want you to think too much, to slowly lose your sanity in his absence, to miss him too much while he was in the military, equally missing you. The biggest difference between you and him was that he knew how to set his emotions aside, you were only good at ignoring it.

He always pretended that he didn’t care, but he cared more than anyone you knew. Even when he rammed inside you roughly, you could see the emotions passing through his eyes. Fear. Love. Longing.

He didn’t need to say a lot of things, because you just knew. He thought you didn’t notice when he held onto you a little too tight, not willing to let you, and you understood - he was leaving, but he wasn’t letting go.

San was giving you a piece of himself to hold on to, because it was the only way he knew how to say those things he had a difficult time saying.

Don’t forget me. Stay busy. Stay whole. Be patient. Please wait.

You didn’t notice when the first tear slipped down your cheek, and then, you felt it - a thumb so gentle you barely felt it brush against your wettened cheeks.

San didn’t say anything, just kept wiping away the tears you didn’t know were still falling. His hand lingered at your cheek, his brow furrowed like your sadness physically pained him.

“H-Hey,” you tried to smile, but it ended up looking like a grimace. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just a little in my head. I’m fine.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know you are.”

He held your face a moment longer than necessary. The way his eyes lingered a little too long on your lips and you could physically feel the change in his demeanor.

And then he looked away. Just for a beat. Like he was trying to reel something back in before it slipped. You were still in his shirt. Still sitting there, legs bare, hair tousled, tears drying on your skin.

He was trying - God, he was trying - to hold the line. You reached out, fingers curling lightly around his wrist. “You okay?”

That was the breaking point, because you weren’t supposed to ask him that. Not now. Not when you were the one crying. Not when he was the one leaving.

He exhaled sharply through his nose and looked back at you, and this time the control wasn’t just slipping - it was gone.

“I’m not,” he said hoarsely. “Not when you look at me like that.”

The revelation had you reeling, and your lips parted. It caught his attention, but he didn’t move, and neither did you. Instead, you clutched his shirt tighter.

“You’re crying, you’re vulnerable. I should, fuck, I should walk away right now.” he murmured, almost like he was reminding himself. “But I can’t.”

And then he kissed you. And when he pulled back just enough to speak, he whispered, “I wanted to give you space, but fuck, I want you too much.”

Because you were his. Because he was yours. And because twenty-four hours would never be enough. But he wasn’t going to touch you, not this time. Plus, his dick was spent.

He smiled, pulling you up by the arm. “Come,” he said. “I have work to do in the office, would you like to accompany me?”

Whatever you choose, he’d accept. He could have had you again, could’ve drowned in you  to forget both of your worries, but he can’t. He just wants you near, and maybe that meant even more to him.

It was how you found yourself curled against his arms as he typed on his laptop with one hand, his other arm wrapped around you possessively. You watched him for a while, curled under the blanket, the steady rhythm of his typing filling the room.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what almost happened. The way his resolve almost melted like you were the one in control of the situation. But you respected it when he pulled back. It was admirable really, you bet it was difficult. 

You tried to focus on something else. Anything else. But the air between you hadn’t cleared - it had just thickened. You bit your lips, a sudden thought passing through your head as you stared at San’s side profile. God, you thought, can this man get any more attractive?

Apparently, San can sense it, too. The growing tension, just laying still in the silence that enveloped the two of you. He couldn’t help but stare at the way the blanket would slide off of your shoulders when you shifted to get comfortable, the way you stretched and it would push your perky tits up on his arm.

He went back to typing, but his posture shifted. Straighter. Stiffer. Like he was holding something back with both hands.

You splayed a hand over San’s belly, skimming your fingers lower to trace random, abstract patterns over his taut skin out of sheer boredom. San bit his lip, resisting the urge to groan under your touch, a static buzz running up the column of his spine. 

You were about to lower your fingers to touch the waistband of his boxers when San’s hand stopped yours in a panic. “Don’t,” he manages to let out. “I’m really trying to hold out here, love, don’t fucking tempt me.”

You shrugged, not meaning to actually do what he thought he was doing. You moved your hand away sheepishly, but you did the worst thing you could ever possibly do at this moment - you looked up at him with the biggest doe eyes. Something in him just snapped.

Fuck it, he thought.

“S-San, I’m s-sorry,” you whined when he pulled your hair down with one hand while his other hand already began to work on his pants. You swallowed when he gripped his hard, leaking cock in his hand, stroking it. “Please, I’m so sore and tired—”

“Twenty-four hours, remember? You’ve got six more hours, tough it out,” San raised a brow. You whimpered when he gripped your hair harder. “Don’t worry,” he smirked. “I’m a little spent myself, however…”

Fuck, if his refusal to let you rest didn’t turn you on. You instantly felt your nether regions slick up with his words.

You sputtered when he began to lower your head, slapping the tip of his cock lewdly on your lips. “Open up,” he ordered.

You let the fat tip of his cock rest on the flat of your tongue, feeling your throat automatically open up for the intrusion  like it knows that its only job right now was to take San all the way in until your throat couldn’t take him anymore. You couldn’t help but groan softly, the familiar feeling of San’s girth, the musky scent of him, and just about everything made your head spin.

San lets out a husky moan as he squeezes the base of his shaft, fondling his balls a little as you adjust to his length. “Stay right there, love, I like this right now,” he groaned.

You hummed as San went back to typing immediately while your mouth just warmed his cock just right as you laid down on the couch. In a peculiar way, it felt sensual and intimate. You let your eyes flutter, focusing on nothing but the feeling of San’s cock lodged in your throat - the heat and the taste of it, especially.

Cockwarming your boyfriend while he worked was definitely one of the things you never really expected because when San works, he’s pretty much locked into it until he deems it otherwise. But here you were, curled up and feeling very cozy on San’s lap with his balls kissing your chin.

You lost track of time, letting out a muffled groan once in a while when you’d feel San adjust himself and, therefore, humping his cock deeper in your voice box by accident. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d thank your lucky stars that he’d trained your gag reflex a long, long time ago.

San didn’t stop working, and with the warmth of his body, the repeated clacking of the keyboard, and his steady breathing, it wrapped you like a lullaby. Before long, you felt your eyes closing. It reminded you of last night when he woke you up with him fucking you.

What you would give to experience that type of pleasure again. There was something about relinquishing all control to him that turned you on so much.

But you didn’t have to wait long. You groaned, disoriented, limbs heavy, mind still caught in that quiet fog between dreaming and waking. You were about to sit up, but suddenly, you felt a stabbing zing of pleasure down there that sent stars in your vision. “San! Oh—”

San lifts your legs up, leaning close to press your lips together for a sweet, sinful kiss. You swallow a whine when he eases on top of you, burying himself completely up to the hilt.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby, what are you doing to me?” San moans out, his thrusts so  agonizingly slow that you feel that familiar heat build up inside your lower belly. He tips his head into your neck. “Y/N,” he moans again, long and low.

“A-Ah, how long w-was I out?” You asked, your sleepy eyes gazing back at his lust-filled ones. “Fuck, that’s it, just like that,” you gasped, holding onto his arm for support. “I love you, San.”

“Love you too, baby,” he says, voice rough, smoothing a hand up and down your spine as he slowly fucks up into you. “Couple of hours. God, I’m gonna come.”

You try to rock back to meet each slow thrust, not wanting San to go faster so much as you want him deeper. “Please,” you whined.

He groans, spilling his seed deep into you for what you assumed was the last time for tonight. He puts all his weight onto you, careful not to crush you, heaving repeated breaths that he tried to catch before he gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

He pulls out, going down on you again, and for a second, you thought he was going to suck his own cum out again and give it to you. The very thought of it had you blushing madly up to your ears.

Imagine your surprise when you felt his fingers dig into you, instead. “W-What are you doing?”

He eyes you once, a small smirk painting his lips, groaning under his breath at the sight of his cum just pouring out of you. “I’m making room for more,” he flatly said, scooping his cum out of you with his fingers. 

It had you whining and squeezing against his fingers at how filthy and erotic the act of it was. He clicks his tongue, though, because no matter what he did, your pussy just kept gushing everything out. “Fuck, love, looks like you’ve finally reached your limit,” he laughed.

“Funny,” you deadpanned, trying to pretend that it didn’t turn you on.

It was probably midnight by now, no, you were pretty sure it was past midnight now. You stretched your arm - just now realizing you were in bed - to try and grab your phone from the nightstand to check the time, but you gasped when your arms were grabbed roughly.

“San?” You tilted your head in confusion, but all that did was make him pin your arms down to your sides. 

Your heart stilted in your chest. He didn’t say anything, but he had that animalistic look in his eyes. And then, it hits you. “San,” you gulped. “How long have you been fucking me in my sleep?”

He smirked, pinning your wrists with more added weight. “Does it matter?”

Now that you were thinking about it, your cunt felt abnormally sore. Your eyes fluttered shut when San thrusted sharply once into you in one go, fucking his cum back into with his cock.

And just when you thought it was impossible, San fucks you hard - he fucks you the hardest he’s ever fucked you in general. It had your shrill voice bouncing obnoxiously throughout the room along with the loud squelching of his previous cum.

“Take it, you whore, take my fucking cock,” he roared amidst your screams.

He gripped your hair in one hand and buried his face into your shoulder to muffle his noises. The tears and spit dampened his skin as you continued to take what he was giving you. He could feel his balls drawing up tight, all of his muscles coiling in preparation for the orgasm he knew was coming.

Your mind automatically went to your thoughts when you woke up today - the regret. You had definitely underestimated the way San took advantage of this deal you had going on, but that wasn’t what made you regret this.

Because you’d thought you had power when you made the offer. You’d thought it was your way of controlling the goodbye; of saying, fine. Take this. Remember me like this.

But he turned it inside out, and now, you were the one unraveling beneath him.

“God, I fucking love you,” he moaned out, marking your neck up with the abstract patterns of his lips. “You don’t know how much you mean to me.” 

And worst of all, he enjoyed it. Not just the act. Not just your body. He enjoyed seeing you like this. Honest. Shaken. Open in a way you never let yourself be.

“I l-love—San, God, p-please,” you stuttered, your tongue lolling out pathetically from your mouth.  The low, pleased hum in his throat when you tried to form words and failed spurred you on.

He was always so still, so unreadable until now. Now, he wasn’t stoic - he was focused. Just your body, your breath, and the way you whispered his name like it meant something, it was all he needed right now 

And for the first time, he let himself show it - how much he wanted you. How badly he’d miss you. How he’d burn down everything else, piece by piece, just to make these hours count.

“Gonna fuck my cum into you so deep, love,” his breathing was laboured, his hips stuttering into a rhythm without any dynamics in them. “Maybe you’ll still be dripping with my cum by the time I get discharged.”

That imagery was what sent you over the edge. The very thought of it in the back of your head already had you getting hot and bothered for the next time you’d see each other again.

San's eyes rolled back in pleasure and he groaned loudly. He wished this could last forever, but he was genuinely spent now. What he wouldn't give to have you crying on his cock every day, giving you load after load of cum. The very thought made him tremble.

There were no more orgasms that you could give him, being spent from the entire day of just having his cock inside you, but you still fluttered weakly against his cock, squeezing and milking it for all its worth. It still felt so good on your end.

San didn’t move away nor did he let go. He wasn’t ready, and he also knew you weren’t ready either. You didn’t dare breathe or make a sound as you tried to level yourself back to your body. Not yet.

Not when his hands were on you like that. Not when he looked at you like this. Not when he touched you like you were the only thing he wasn’t willing to leave behind.

If tonight was all you had left, then you wanted to remember this. 

Against your will, your tears fell. All this was a distraction from the reality that you were going to be without San for two years straight and now that it was over, it was hitting you all at once.

He held you tighter when he felt your body shake and tremble and maybe, that’s what did it for him too.

Then he finally spoke, low and unsteady. “I hate this.”

You lifted your head, just enough to see his face. His eyes were locked somewhere across the room, like he couldn’t bear to look at you while he said it.

“I hate knowing you’re gonna be here and I won’t be,” he continued. “I hate that this is the only option I have because I’d have to go to the military anyway, so I’d rather do it now.”

Your heart was already breaking open again, tears slipping silently down your cheeks as you stared at him. He quickly wipes your tears, alarmed. He gets it, he was never one to let his feelings out.

Something tugged at you from your chest, and you needed to come clean to him. “What if you change your mind?” You asked quietly, your voice smaller than you meant it to be. “What if two years from now, after being away, you realize you never loved me?”

San went deathly still and you almost took the question back, but you had to say it. It was what has been bothering you the entire time. He didn’t answer, he just looked at you, steady and quiet.

“What if you go away, and two years from now, you realize you don’t love me the same way?” The words tumbled out like you’d been holding them in for too long. “That maybe this was just comfort?”

He didn’t flinch, but his heart squeezed tight in his chest, hurt that you would feel that way. It was what made him realize that just because he gave you his business doesn’t equate to security even though he trusted you with everything he had.

He glanced at the drawer again where he stored the gift he had bought for you yesterday, the one that he’d been casting discreet glances at, the one that reminded him of you so, so much.  He exhaled slowly, and without a word, he leaned over to open the drawer to finally take it out.

San pulls out a small box and your breath instantly catches. He turns back towards you, not meeting your eyes, and opens it gently with practiced calm, like he didn’t want to die with nervousness as his heart thudded against his ribs.

Your lips parted, but no words came.You stared at him, stunned, a fresh wave of tears welling up, but different. This time, it was with warmth.

The box sat there in his hand but with that quiet steadiness that you loved about him that he always carried with him, even when the world around him trembled.

“You want proof I won’t change my mind?” he said, voice low and steady. “This is it.”

You blinked, the sting of tears returning as your heart pressed harder against your ribs. You looked down at the ring. Then back at him.

He looked up at you, finally meeting your eyes. “I want to come back to you,” he said, the vulnerability in his eyes making your eyes sting with more tears. “I’ve been carrying this around for months. Never knew when was the right time. I guess there’s not really a perfect one.”

“You are my home, Y/N,” he smiled softly. "And I wouldn’t be leaving anything behind if I didn’t already decide that everything I want is right here.”

And suddenly, the fear inside you didn’t feel so loud anymore. You took the ring from his hand, sliding it onto your finger like it had always belonged there. You didn’t say yes - you didn’t have to.

His shoulders dropped the moment it was done. Not dramatically just a quiet, subtle release like he was breathing out for the first time in hours. Then, for once, his voice faltered. “Will you wait for me?” San asked, hesitant.

You leaned forward, touching your forehead to his. “Don’t ask me if I’ll wait for you like I’d ever do anything else.”

“I’ll come back to you,” he said. “No matter what happens. I swear to you, I’ll come back and marry you. I know I don’t say much, but I promise you that.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks, because even though his voice was still calm, and his face didn’t show much, he was holding your hand like a man trying to memorize the feeling of home.

You wiped your face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Well, that was the least romantic proposal I’ve ever seen.”

His brow lifted. “You said yes. I gave you the business and a ring. What more do you want, fireworks?”

You smirked. “Maybe. A little.”

He groaned softly, pulling you into his chest. “I should’ve just eloped in silence.”

You grinned against him. “And miss all this romance?”

“Yes,” he rolled his eyes, not bothering to argue with you because that’s how much he loved you. 

You laughed, and even though your chest still ached, even though goodbye was still coming. For now, you had this - San, a ring, and a future to look forward to. 

Dividers by : @sweetmelodygraphics Like my work? Click here to view my previous story.

[inkydelusions]

written in the stars - 2.1k

summary: spencer’s been spending too much time with morgan and now he’s a flirt. reader had an interesting conversation with a fortune teller and now it seems everyone around her is plotting to make her fate come true. c.warning: bau!reader x bold/flirty spencer. reader has their fortune teller on speed dial. tension. lots of it. suggestive content? maybe? nothing too serious and also barely descriptive. everyone knows you about spencer's and reader's mutual crush, and they're trying to give them a little push. a/n: this literally came to me as i was brushing my teeth last night, so enjoy it!! reblogs are appreciated !! <3

part two !!

“You’re kidding.” You huffed a laugh. Morgan, who was resting against your desk with his arms crossed and a cheeky smile on his lips, simply nodded. “That many?”

“Never underestimate the power of these, baby.”

“Ew, Morgan. Put those away.” You jokingly cover your eyes, as if the sight of Morgan's biceps was the scariest thing ever. “Don’t ever do that again. I mean it. It’s inappropriate.”

You hear a snort from the other side of the wall that separates your desk from Spencer's. His light and yours are the only ones still around you.

The rest of the team already headed out a while ago. Emily left the office in a rush; said she was done for the week and needed some alone time. Hotchner didn’t specify, just left with a king and stern goodbye. And Garcia made sure to let everyone know that she was going to spend the weekend with kevin. The way she had said it—plus the way she’d wiggled her eyebrows as she said it—was enough to know you shouldn’t ask any questions.

“Ha, ha. Funny.” He raised from your desk and picked up his stuff from his own. With his jacket hanging from his arm he turned to both you and Spencer, who was still working on some paperwork. “Anyway. If you'll excuse me, I have a date to attend to.”

“With which one of the twelve girls that gave you their numbers last night?” you asked, but he didn’t answer. He leaned down to murmur something to Spencer that sounded a lot like good luck, boy, and clapped his back before he started towards the elevator. Once inside, he winked at you just in time before the doors closed. “How the hell does he do it?”

Spencer raised his head from the stack of papers he’d been reading for the past ten minutes. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he said, “Well, he’s objectively attractive. Athletic. And he knows how to read people, which means that he knows what to do and what to say to appeal to them. I'd say he has the perfect combination of attributes to make him an excellent suitor.”

“Suitor, huh?” He shrugs. “So, what are your plans for tonight?”

You laid back on your chair, playing with the blue pen you were holding in your hands. Spencer watched as the small tube danced between your fingers, twirling clumsily before clattering against your wooden desk.

“I don't have any.”

“Really? You don’t have a never ending list of phone numbers to call when you need a date?”

He stared at you for a second, wondering if you were joking.

“No. No, I don't.”

You pouted. “That’s a shame.”

Why? he wanted to ask. Why would you care if he had dates or if his phone was full with numbers of random girls he met under even more random circumstances. But most importantly, he wanted to ask why you’d seemed so relieved when he’d said no.

“Do you?” he ventured. “Have a collection of phone numbers to hit on Friday nights, that is.”

“Oh, yeah. definitely.” You’d swear you could see him visibly cringe at your answer. “One of them is my favorite pizza place right around the corner from my apartment. The owner and I are already on a first name basis. I'd say that’s promising.” Spencer looked down to his stack of papers to hide a grin. “The other is the number of my personal fortune teller. I call her every three weeks to see what the stars have in store for me.”

Spencer huffed a laugh, feeling a heavy weight lift off his shoulders.

“You don’t actually believe in that, do you?” he asked.

“I'm not sure what I believe.” You shrugged. “I know I have fun talking to her, though.”

Before you could contain it, a laugh slipped past your lips at the thought of your last session with the fortune teller. Her read had been too off, so terribly wrong you’d jokingly threatened to sue her.

“What?” Spencer asked, smiling like a fool. That was the effect your laugh used to have on him. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I just remembered something the fortune teller told me some days ago.”

“What? Did she promise you’d be rich by the end of the month?” he joked.

You leaned over your desk, eyes staring straight into Spencer's. He noticed the vibrant spark in your eyes, the one that always let him know what you were about to say was going to crack him up, and he almost wiggled in his chair, all excited.

“Hey guys. What are you still doing here?” JJ came out of her office as she finished buttoning her coat.

“JJ, hey! what are you doing here?” you asked in return, confused. “I thought you’d left hours ago.”

 “Oh, no. I was finishing up some papers for the upcoming week. And I was waiting for Will to come pick me up.” She walked down straight to your desks.

“Will's in town?” Spencer asked.

JJ nodded, smiling broadly. “He came over for the weekend. We were going out for dinner tonight.”

“That's awesome. have fun, you two.”

“Thanks.” She beamed at you and started walking to the elevator. Something made her stop in her tracks, though. “Actually… why don’t you guys come with us?”

That got Spencer's attention.

“Are you sure?” you asked, frowning. “You don’t think it could be weird?”

“Weird? no, no. It'll be fun. like a double date!”

That has you laughing. Not in mockery, but out of nervousness. You’ve never been on a double date. You haven’t even had that much experience with individual ones. You had dreamt about going out on dates to fancy restaurants, to beautiful parks and museums. and most of the time, your companion was a certain BAU agent known for his analytical mind and his tendency to yap in the most inconvenient of moments. But that’s not here nor there.

In your experience, dating has never been that fun. Talking with someone for hours just to realize with every passing minute that the person in front of you was simply not it. They were never the one. Because the one was probably sitting on his couch reading something written by an ancient philosopher or watching star trek—or whatever it was cute nerds like him liked to watch in their free time.

“That’s… that’s ridiculous,” you said, tone faintly wavering.

At the same time, Spencer said “it could be a good idea.”

Your words seemed to surprise him, making him blink several times and readjust his glasses again. Just like his answer made your eyes open wide and look away from him.

“I mean… as we discussed, none of us have other plans for tonight. Besides, this could be a great moment to catch up with Will, right?” He turned to JJ for support. She smiled proudly at him before turning her eyes to you.

“Of course. It’ll be fun.”

She was smiling in a way that had you wondering if maybe your discreet glances towards your teammate hadn’t been all that discreet. She was looking at you like she knew why, all of the sudden, you were blushing and shaking like a teenager.

“Well, then. If it’s okay with you guys…”

JJ waved her hand around. “Oh, Will won’t mind it. Besides, he loves you two. He’ll be happy to see you again. He's actually waiting down in the lobby.”

And so Spencer and you started packing up your stuff. you could feel his gaze on you the whole time, like he was listening to all your tells. You prayed that he didn’t notice the way you almost dropped your bag twice because you were fumbling with the strap. Without needing to look at him, you could feel him standing right next to you, so close you could smell his cologne. You thought he was just walking up to the elevator, but then you heard him say, “JJ, you go ahead. I just remembered, we still have to finish something before we leave. it won’t take long, I promise.”

JJ nodded, a shadow of a mischievous smile on her lips. “Sure. I'll see you guys in a bit.”

You’d have swore your mind was playing tricks because you thought you saw JJ wink at you just like Morgan before as the metalic doors shut before her.

“Do you need help with that?” Spencer asked, seeing you struggle with the folder you’d been trying to fit into your bag.

“No, don’t worry. It's fine. See? done.” The paper is now all crumpled and the corners are folded inwards, but hey, at least it’s inside the bag.

There was a beat of silence and you felt him get closer, just barely. The points of his converse were merely an inch away from the side of your boot. With the back of his fingers and with so, so much care, Spencer lifted your chin up so you both were staring eye to eye. He looked confused, and excited, and maybe a bit hurt. And you wanted to punch yourself because you knew it was your fault, that it had been your words that made him feel like that.

“Can I ask you a question?” His voice was soft, barely a whisper. you could only nod. “Why is the idea of you and me going on a date so ridiculous?”

You bit the inside of your lip, hating that you’d said that. But also extremely surprised at his boldness. Never before had he dared to get so close, to touch you like this, with such care and softness. He took another step, backing you up against your desk. His other hand landed on your hip, helping you keep balance.

you stared right into his eyes, wondering what exactly had happened for him to behave like this with you. He'd always been shy, quiet and reserved. choosing to hide his feelings behind longing stares and awkward smiles as he handed you files and takeaway cups of coffee. So why was he behaving like the lead in a romcom? Not that you were complaining, though. you were pretty much enjoying it, if the bubbly feeling in your belly meant anything.

“You need to stop hanging out with Morgan,” you whispered back. “He's turning you into a flirt, just like him.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes.” You wet your lips, eyes breaking apart from his.

“Why?” His voice was full of genuine confusion, his eyebrows knit in a soft frown.

“Because it makes me want to flirt back. That’s why.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“Oh, definitely.” You grip the edge of your desk to refrain from holding onto him.

“Why’s that?” His thumb was now tracing the line of your jaw, walking a path up and down and getting dangerously close to your lower lip.

“Because you know what flirting leads to.”

“Dates? Double dates?”

You were thinking of way more private activities, the kind that didn’t involve fancy clothing—or any clothing at all—, but sure, his answer was also true.

“Mhm.” You nodded.

“And would that be so bad?”

Your eyes drop to his mouth out of their own volition. No, no it wouldn’t.

Suddenly, one of your phones started ringing, completely watering down the tiny spark lighting between you two. Spencer fished his phone out of his pocket and answered. And you take the opportunity to take a deep breath. He didn't move an inch, though. His body still pressed against yours, your legs pressed to the edge of your desk. His stare did not break away from yours while he spoke to JJ.

“Yeah, sorry. We’re heading down right now. Sorry.”

He put his phone back in his pocket and took a step back, offering you his hand. You didn’t consider it for longer than a second before taking it and starting towards the elevator with him right behind you. Once inside, giggling like a pair of teenagers, you rested your head against the metallic walls and looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. He stared at you like he’d never seen you before, or at least not like this: all flushed cheeks, excited giggles and sparkly eyes.

“Do you want to know what the fortune teller told me the last time I spoke to her?” he nodded. “that i had a great dating opportunity coming my way.”

With a lopsided smile that was so uncharacteristic of Spencer—and yet it looked so good on him—he hummed and said, “maybe we should start believing what this lady has to say.”

thanks for reading <3 likes & reblogs are appreciated !!

[norcigs]

CAM BUNNY .ᐟ ᢉ𐭩

series masterlist

synop: lando discovers a special cam girl… part 1.

warnings: smut with plot, m and f masturbating, use of bunny and slut, exhibitionism, use of toy

📹: 1.8k words

really, it started very innocently. lando had been lonely with all the race weekends and certainly pent up with stress. his friends told him about some website that might help him ‘relax’. it was a wednesday night on an off week, cool enough outside for lando to have an excuse to stay in and order take out. the half eaten chinese food and some romcom playing in the background, set his scene. his mind wandered, wishing he had someone to share it with. someone to lay on him and watch movies with. someone who might straddle him right here after dinner and give him what he wanted.

his pj pants were getting tighter, and his frustration grew from his warming crotch. he didnt really care to watch porn. of course, he has and does, when the moment calls or on a particularly hot night. but it was never intimate enough for him anymore. he wasn't invested in the acting, he wanted, needed, something real.

it was this moment of desperation that led lando to typing in the website his friends had mentioned. he wasnt sure what he was expecting exactly, but it wasnt this. his eyes focused and made sense of everything he was seeing. the different squares each showing a different woman’s live stream, each of them doing something different, but they were all some level of erotic. he snapped his laptop shut and stood from the couch quickly. his heart raced like he had just seen something he was never supposed to.

eyes remembering the different women, exposed tits, arched backs, some with face, some just out of frame. he would never admit it, but he was excited. not really at the memory of how the girls looked or anything, more so at the scandal of it all. someone livestreaming that level of sexuality, and him seeing it. a welcomed peak into a woman’s bedroom, and how she might pleasure herself.

exhaling deeply, he sat back down and moved his laptop back to his lap, opening it. he scanned the images that flashed before him, taking in each girl before scrolling down for more squares to load in. he clicked over to the search tab, a white box popped up, covering the girls on the screen. he felt relieved, like he wasn’t spying anymore. he knew that isnt really what he was doing, and the thought of it made him more dizzy than he wanted to admit. the search tab blinked at him, the prompt saying…

WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR ?..

he blinked back at his screen, what was he looking for? he racked his brain for some idea of what he wanted to see. mini skirt, step-sister rp, findom, lingerie, glasses, honestly nothing really spoke to him. the cursor kept flashing, waiting for him to start typing. his fingers moved without his brain. slowly, he realized what he was typing, sweet girl.

honestly, he couldn't tell you what that meant or even what he wanted to see. but as he clicked the enter key, one result popped up. of all the people on here… just one that fit his search. his pupils dilated as he forced his eyes to drag away from your figure to read your title. “just a sweet girl needy after a bad day :(“

you had no hashtags, no viewers, no real set up. just your knees straddling a pillow with a light pink vibrator laid on top of it, held to your clit. your bed spread was floral, soft pastel colors mixing with the fairy lights that made you glow. the frame of the camera showed a lot of your room and all of you, except anything above your collar bones. you were completely clothed, plaid mini skirt and a tight white tanktop, even matching white knee high socks. from what he could tell, you even had panties on while trying to get yourself off.

what was a girl like you doing here… and if this was your thing, why go through the steps of not making your account easily findable? he dragged his mouse over the smaller square that held your picture. his heart beat so loudly in his chest, he could feel the vibrations of it hitting his dick. torn, he wanted to see more of you, wanted to join your stream, and watch as you pleased yourself. the other part of him felt like it was too wrong, a layer of sweat covering his palm, while his finger hovered over you. that's when it dawned on him, maybe, since you were here, deep down, you wanted to be watched.

he clicked into your live and was met with complete silence. you clearly didn't have a mic, or didn't want to turn it on. the chat box on the right side of his screen was tempting, but instead he moved his laptop to a stable position in front of him while he leaned back on the couch, watching. the way your hips dragged your cunt across your vibrator, hips lifting like even that was too much for you. your tummy flinched and relaxed as pleasure built up within you. your hands gripped desperate fists of the pillow in front of you.

his hand found his way inside his pajamas as he palmed his cock to you. watching the way your breath hitched when your clit knocked against the fast moving vibrator. how you couldn't commit your full weight to riding the toy because it was too much. his hand moved at the same pace as your hips as he imagined it was his cock driving you this crazy. he could tell by the way your chest moved that you had finally looked up at the screen.

the 0 viewers button now had a 1. he watched the way your hips sped up and wondered if it was really just the idea of someone watching you right now, that got you so worked up. your soft hand moved to where your mini skirt laid over, shielding your most intimate area from the camera. your fingers pulled the fabric up to show yourself completely. the red silk panties matched the skirt, and had white cursive over the front that said bunny.

lando was pumping his cock to match your faster pace now. cock red and hot, bucking into his own hand. he could see the wet mark on your panties and how well your clit was grinding into the vibrator now. putting on such a good show, just for him. he saw the muscles of your tummy clench and relax quickly as your hips stuttered. he could tell from your neck that your head was tipping back and you were allowing your high to control you.

his hand kept your pace as he thought about you above him, riding him until you came undone like a slut. how your cunt would wrap around his cock. how you would take the whole thing even if it stretched you too much. how he wouldn't even take your skirt or bunny panties off, but just pull them to the side to use your soaking slit.

you shook with pleasure as the tight bound coil in your belly erupted and sent an orgasm spilling all over you. the way your chest heaved seemed like you couldn't even hold your own moans in, despite being alone while pleasing yourself. lando felt his own body relax with euphoria as he reached the peak of the mountain and fell off. warm, sticky spurts shooting into his own boxers. his eyes never left you as he grunted into his hand and pictured himself filling your tight cunt, before fucking his seed deeper into you.

your breath was heavy as your arms hung tired, reaching to turn off the vibrator. his hand in his own underwear gave himself a few more good pumps before he removed it and wiped it clean. you had a new air to you, more gentle, soft, like you were ready to curl up and rest for a while, like you hadn't just slut-ed yourself out with him watching.

he watched you, mesmerized, as his own muscles relaxed. sitting up straighter, he watched as your raised your hand and gave the camera a barely noticeable wave. something about it sent electricity through lando. you were real, and he was the only one watching, the only one you could be waving to. he felt a bit stupid that his heart was fluttering for a girl he knew nothing about, but he wasn't gonna let this moment pass without taking a chance. he leaned towards the keyboard of his laptop and typed into your chat box

beautiful girl, i hope you're feeling better now, bunny

he watched as your breath caught and your hips grinded a slow circle down onto your pillow. reading his message made your skin flush soft pink, before you were moving off your bed quickly. careful not to show your face, you walked over to the computer that hosted your live stream and ended it without any notice. he couldn't see your face, so he wasn't sure, but you looked nervous. like his praise might have got you excited, as if you weren't on here showing yourself to anyone who might stumble onto your account.

the screen flicked white and you were gone, text appeared, “CamBunny has ended her live”. scrolling down he saw your account. your profile picture was of you in a pink bra holding a bunny stuffed animal. his mind ignored the embarrassment he felt by already being able to recognize your chest. your bio stated simply “live every wednesday and sunday night”. there was nothing else on your account. no name, no saved videos or pictures, no followers, no following. you were gone just as quickly as he had found you.

lando knew he was gonna have a tough time waiting until sunday to see you again. as he cleaned himself up in the bathroom, he let his mind wander to how your waist curved into your hips. how your collar bone showed as one of your tank top straps slid down. how the light freckles on your forearms made his heart race much faster than he wanted. one thing was very clear to him already, he wanted you in a lot more ways than he should.

[sundrop-writes]

The Way You Miss Me

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

I’m not trying to say I don’t wanna stay, I just know how this story ends.

Use my body against me - and all of our history.

I hate the way you miss me. 

Summary:

Fred broke up with you. He made it clear that he was going to have a new life when he opened his shop, and he didn't need you to be a part of it. You being stuck on him was just another joke in a long line of pranks that he pulled.

And life kept on laughing at you when your fear of crippling heights was triggered by a potentially life ending mission the Order put together that had you dangling hundreds of feet over London, held up only by Fred's strength and determination.

So what does it mean when the two of you land, and he's the only thing that can stop your shaking panic? What does it mean when he's looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes, holding you tight like a lover would?

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Deathly Hallows.

Word Count: 18,500

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full warnings list and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is equal parts angst fic and smut fic; the reader is a cis woman - uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; there is no mention of the reader's looks, race, hair colour, etc. in any way; this fic does use Y/N (and L/N as in Last Name); this takes place mostly during the beginning of Deathly Hallows, so there are mentions of dark topics, like death, and the cult-like following that Voldemort has developed; this is Exes to Lovers - Fred and the reader dated for a while during their time at Hogwarts and then broke up; (there is flashbacks in this fic to times during Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix); the reader is half-blood - she has one parent who is a muggle and lives in a muggle city and the other parent who is loyal to death eaters (and there is a later mention of the reader's mother being killed due to anti-muggle sentiment as Voldemort becomes more powerful); there is no mention of what Hogwarts house the reader is in; the reader has a crippling fear of heights (which is a large part of the plot for this fic); mentions of nausea and vomiting (as a fear response) (no one actually throws up during the course of the fic); the reader experiences actual life-threatening danger while on a broom - she nearly falls to her death, but Fred catches her; Fred does struggle to hold the reader's body weight, so it doesn't imply that he has super-human strength or that the reader is particularly petite (I wanted his reaction to be realistic for someone of any body weight); for part of the fic, Fred is disguised as Harry using Polyjuice Potion (but there's no confusion about his identity because the reader knows he took the potion); the reader experiences a panic attack due to the life threatening fall, and Fred helps her calm down; mentions of blood and semi-graphic descriptions of George's canon injury (his ear being blasted off); there is general emotional angst from the characters being in close proximity to danger, death, and life threatening situations; Fred calls the reader 'darling' and 'love' and 'sweets' and 'pretty girl' (in sexual and non-sexual contexts).

For the actual smut section: this is not their first time together as a couple and neither of the characters are meant to be virgins; there is undertones of sub/dom dynamics - Fred is a teasing soft dom and the reader is submissive to him (and there is mentions of the reader experiencing what could be considered subspace) (but there isn't any specifically laid out roles - it's more so one person enjoying taking care of the other, especially after experiencing the emotional turmoil of a near death experience together); there is Daddy kink in this (not until a bit later into the smut section, but it just came to me and I realized it suited Fred so well) Fred calls himself Daddy and the reader is way into it; praise kink - Fred calls the reader 'good girl' specifically because he knows she likes it; lots of dirty talk (Fred has a filthy mouth); oral sex - Fred receiving (she blows him as a thank you for saving her life) (also slight ball worship); mentions of the reader 'choking' on his cock (but there is no major breathplay or breath restriction); slight spit kink (it's a messy blowjob and he loves it); teasing and brief orgasm denial (toward both parties); hair pulling (toward both parties) - not with the intention of causing pain, but to direction someone's attention and to show appreciation and affection to the person; thigh riding - she humps herself on Fred's thigh while she is still wearing clothes; penis in vagina sex; creampie kink (I'm not gonna say breeding kink, because there's no mention of procreation or getting someone pregnant, even in theory, but they are both very turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her); this could be protected sex OR unprotected sex - he cums inside of her raw but we can all pretend that they used a magical pregnancy prevention method if you want even though it's not mentioned in the fic; cockwarming (reader doesn't let Fred pull out for a while after he cums); I think that is finally it for this fic.

A/N: This fic is titled after a song by All Time Low, which I highly recommend listening to paired with this fic. This is actually part of an idea I had for a much longer multi-chaptered Fred x Reader fic, but I kept thinking about this one moment in the fic and how much I wanted to write it - so I did. And I decided that it would make a good oneshot. And I am actually insanely proud of myself for managing to capture the same emotions in under 20k that I originally thought would take me like 50k or 100k to properly communicate. I think this is fantastic, and it's one of the best things I have written in a while - and I really hope you guys enjoy it! Especially if you like angsty, emotional, exes to lovers fics.

...

Very often, you wondered when life had become so complicated. 

It seemed that just yesterday, you were a bright-eyed young girl, dancing around a beautifully magical winter ball with the love of your life on your arm - and now, you were a confused woman who was terrified of how your life would end up because of a dark wizard and his cultist followers trying to overtake your world. 

These days you didn’t even have that lover to comfort you through all of the confusion and dread that clouded the world around you. 

You and Fred used to be perfect. That’s what a lot of people would have called the two of you - the ‘perfect’ couple. 

Your story was something straight from a romance novel - the two of you were best friends when you were young, and that friendship quickly blossomed into affection. That affection naturally led into a sweet romance. When you were with him, your life was full of moments where you felt like a beautiful, flowery, desirable protagonist because of how he treated you. Your life used to be full of laughter, full of smiles, full of romantic gestures. 

You and Fred were in the same year at Hogwarts, so naturally you knew each other. You weren’t really friends - at least not at first. You knew of each other, especially because you had some classes together. 

But you didn’t truly meet Fred Weasley until more than halfway into your first year of classes together. You had the misfortune of accidentally running into a prank that was meant for a Slytherin Prefect - someone who had taken one too many house points off Gryffindor for the twins’ liking. And after being doused with red and gold paint and tripping over a toy rubber snake that had been charmed to hiss realistically when you got near it - you were reasonably frightened and crying, and it left you the laughing stalk of the courtyard - someone to be pointed at and mocked by everyone. 

Fred hadn’t meant for it to be you. With the way he looked at you after the incident - full of guilt while everyone else pointed at you and laughed, imitating your frightening screams and attempts to jump away from the fake snake - it didn’t take you long to figure out the culprits behind it. And it didn’t take you much longer after that to plan your revenge. (Especially because, as much as Fred looked guilty, he didn’t simply come forward and apologise. Too afraid to look like a weak moron in the eyes of his brother and his other Gryffindor friends. So - on with your revenge, it was.) 

You figured that all good pranksters should be due to be a victim sometimes, too. If the twins couldn’t laugh when they were on the receiving end, then they should stop playing pranks. 

So you came up with something that you considered masterful. During your trip home for Christmas, back to Muggle London where your mother lived, you asked her to take you to a shop to buy a couple of greeting cards for your classmates. The ones that sing Christmas carols loudly when the hinge of the card is opened. Something clever, and not needing any magic at all. 

And when you returned to Hogwarts after the break, you found a moment where the twins were distracted, and you stole their book bags in order to pull off your epic, amazing prank. You taped those singing greeters into the back of their Potions textbooks - a class that you shared with them, of course, so that you could enjoy the show. And then you waited. 

You had trouble containing your laughter when Professor Snape escalated from annoyed to downright scalding angry as his class was filled with the quiet robotic hum of ‘Jingle Bells’, occasionally overlapped by ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town’. It was made even better by the fact that both of the twins clearly knew that the music was coming from somewhere in their surrounding area, but they had no clue what the exact source was or how to stop it. And with every snivelled demand of ‘just open your books and get to work’ - the music only started up again. 

By the time they had been sentenced to detention for disturbing the class, you were nearly breathless and your ribs were aching from trying to hold back your laughter. Which, of course, meant that Fred easily spotted you out of everyone else - who looked equally confused or annoyed with the low hum of the music. And as soon as the class ended, he brought his textbook to you, thanked you for the worthy prank, and asked you how to stop it. He looked entirely amused and impressed when you pulled the tiny device out of the back, and proceeded to ask you a million questions about it. 

You weren’t surprised when the next week, the annoying singing greeter ended up inside the teacher’s copy of the textbook on McGonagall’s desk. 

From that moment on, his crush on you steeped inside of him like a fine tea, developing from an innocent adolescent attraction to full-blown, ‘drive you crazy’, ‘I would do anything for you’, love. It was lucky for him that you easily felt the same way. 

Through the years of being by his side, becoming his best friend, pulling pranks together and trying desperately to get him to study - it was difficult not to fall for Fred Weasley. 

You had been overjoyed when Fred invited you to the Quidditch World Cup. Even though you weren’t the biggest fan of Quidditch (and Fred knew that). The only reason you had started attending the games at Hogwarts was because he joined the team. And you only bothered to attend the games he played in, so your bias could be spotted from a mile away. But in his letter, with the ticket to the World Cup slotted into the envelope, he told you that it was ‘the game of the century’ and you ‘simply couldn’t miss it’. 

You wouldn’t miss out on spending time with him, so you eagerly agreed to go. 

This left you with only one glaring problem. 

You had a crippling fear of heights. 

It was one of the reasons that you never really gotten into Quidditch in the first place. You had absolutely no interest in playing, and even less interest in watching if Fred wasn’t involved. The idea of even flying on a broom being something that made you nauseated and shaky just from thinking about it. 

The mandatory first year flying lesson was the only class at Hogwarts that you ever failed, but Madame Hooch took pity on you when she saw you crying and fisting the grass after only getting your broom about five inches off the ground. So she passed you anyway - just barely. 

When you set out to watch Fred’s games at Hogwarts, you usually had to take some kind of anti-nausea tonic beforehand to make sure that you didn’t puke all over everyone else in the stands. And you usually couldn’t even make it up to your seat to watch unless one of your good friends held your hand. But you were alright once the actual game started, because watching Fred doing something he loved was a good distraction from just how high up you were. 

Telling Fred about your intense fear had been one of the most honest, vulnerable moments that you ever had with him. Your friendship was usually all pranks and laughter, which you loved. 

But one summer day, when you were hanging out with the Weasleys, they wouldn’t stop nagging you to join one of their family Quidditch matches because they needed an extra player to make the teams even. And after the twins’ endless teasing, saying that you were ‘afraid to lose’ or that you would be ‘too distracted by their daring good looks’ in order to play properly, you broke down crying and stormed off into the woods, because you were too anxious to admit the real reason that you couldn’t play.  

Fred was the one who found you off in the trees behind the Burrow, tears still streaming down your face, and asked you what he had done to so greatly upset you. He had been terrified at the idea of making you upset, so hurt that he had been the one to make you cry. And after he found out about your fear, he didn’t laugh or mock you for it or play it off as something stupid like you thought would be so typical of him. No - instead, he wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders and he told you that he was genuinely sorry. And he promised that he would never invite you to play Quidditch again. 

When you had accepted the invitation to The World Cup, you had forgotten how much your fear of heights played into watching Quidditch as well. The giant, impossibly tall temporary Quidditch stadium that had been set up for the event had been looming over you all day, but you didn’t want to quit and go home because of some silly little fear. 

You wanted to spend the time with your friends. You wanted to enjoy the event because the people you loved most were having fun there. So you pressed on, ignoring the inevitable, letting yourself get caught up in the pregame revelry. You walked around the seemingly endless campgrounds with Fred and George, in awe of all the decorations and the different wizards from all over the world, showing off things from their homes. You chatted and charmed along with them as they collected bets before the game. You let Fred paint your face with large, ugly shamrocks because even though you didn’t entirely care about the teams or fully know them, you were rooting for Ireland to win simply because he was. 

But the unavoidable nature of your problem became very apparent as Arthur guided everyone to your seats, and you climbed up more stairs, and more stairs, and more stairs - and the higher up you got, the more you found yourself shaking, especially when you looked down to the ground and saw that the people down there looked like little more than bugs. You hated it when your mind, naturally, went to what would happen to you if you stumbled over the railing and fell down all that way. You would splat on the ground, squashed like a bug. You would die within seconds. 

You held on tighter to Fred’s hand - he would have said that he had grabbed your hand in the first place so that he wouldn’t lose you among the bustling crowd, and not simply as an excuse to be closer to you. You didn’t even realise how badly you were trembling in his touch as you looked over the railing (still a few flights down from your final seats) with intense apprehension. 

“You alright?” Fred asked you simply. 

“‘m fine.” You mumbled out the lie, giving him a large, forced smile - hoping that he would believe it. 

You knew that if you told him how you were feeling, he would insist on escorting you back to the tent. Perhaps he would even insist on staying with you so that you wouldn’t have to be alone. So he might miss out on a once in a lifetime Quidditch game all because you had a bit of petty anxiety from being so high up. 

So you tried your best to push down all your feelings and ignore them, even if it was making you shake and making your stomach churn. When you got to the top, peering over the edge of the railing of the very, very high up seats that Arthur had gotten as a thanks for his work on helping to organise the whole thing (apparently, the higher up the better to actually see the game), you felt an incredible sense of dizziness, and began swaying on your feet. 

This was so much higher up than the Quidditch stands at Hogwarts. 

Naturally, Fred noticed. It wasn’t something he would easily admit, or even something he did consciously, but he always kept an eye on you. Partially due to a knack for admiring your beauty, that adolescent love-struck feeling always making him more prone to staring at you. But it was also partially due to the fact that he felt a need to watch over you. Whether it be as a friend or as something else, he always wanted you to be safe, and happy. 

And right now, your sickly, terrified face stood out like a sore thumb among the crowd of excited, cheering fans.  

“Y/N,” 

He called out your name in a serious tone that was so uncharacteristic of Fred, something that snapped your attention from staring anxiously at the ground toward him immediately. He cemented your attention on him when he put a hand on top of your tight, tense knuckles on the railing. His touch was warm, as always, and oddly grounding, removing even just a slight bit of that dizzying anxiety that you were feeling. 

“Do you wanna go back down? I can bring you back to the tent,” 

Of course. Just as you had predicted. 

“No.” You easily answered, shaking your head furiously, biting your lip. “I-” 

You didn’t want him missing out on such an important event because of you, but more importantly: 

“I - I don’t want to be afraid.” You heaved out, your chest tight with anxiety. “It’s stupid - people do stuff like this all the time, right? I shouldn’t be afraid-” 

“It’s not stupid.” He said firmly, quickly squashing down any self-belittling that you might be tempted to do. “You can’t control how you feel.” 

Coming from him, it sounded like the most firm truth ever. 

“If you want to stay, I’ll be right here with you.” Fred added on, giving you a warm, reassuring grin. “But just let me know if you want to go back down, and I’ll walk with you, alright?” 

You nodded, hating that even though his words gave you that nip of courage you needed, you were still pulsing with a dull panic. The undeniable reaction that fear caused in your body. 

Fred hated seeing you shaking, hated the deep frown that cut through your beautiful features - so what he did next was instinctive. He took his hand off yours and reached that arm, the one closest to you, around your back, planting his hand firmly on the railing at the other side of your waist. This trapped you in a close-knit hold beside him, something that made you feel instantly more secure - even if it was just from the warmth of him at your side. 

“I’m not gonna let you fall, yeah?” He said quietly, leaning closer into your ear to be heard - the warmth of the reassurance causing gentle tingles down your spine. “I would never let anything happen to you, darling.” 

Between the intense loving safety that he words wrapped you in with the sweet nickname he added on, and the firm cradle of his arm around your back, you knew that you would have no problem sticking it out for the game. But your brain was still trying to cope, your anxiety so incredibly nagging, and you couldn’t help it when your eyes drifted back to focus on the ant-like people on the ground, becoming shaking and nauseous all too soon from staring downward. 

“Down look down.” Fred scolded you gently, using his other hand to grab your chin, forcing your gaze back up - it ended with your eyes locked with his, admiring the way the breeze blew his too-long ginger hair into his eyes. “Just look at me, alright? It’s gonna be far worse if you keep starin’ down there. Just look at me, love.” 

“Just look at you.” You repeated in a quiet mumble, already so utterly locked in the powerful orbit of his gaze, feeling like it was near impossible to look away from him. 

You felt his forehead brush against yours before you realised just how close he had gotten. But you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. 

And ultimately, feeling the stands shaking beneath your feet as a particularly hard gust of wind came through and having another swell of anxiety rush through you was what drove you to closing the gap, sealing your lips on his in your first kiss. Fred made you brave, almost stupidly so, and you hoped that you had finally used that bravery for something good in capturing his lips. (Rather than the stupid mischief that the two of you usually got up to.) 

Fred smiled into the kiss and George cheered loudly behind him - you thought it was due to the game starting, and when you pulled back sharply to look around for the players, you were met with nearly all eyes in the group on you, clearly gawking at the fact that you and Fred had kissed. 

This included Ginny smirking almost evilly before she said: 

“Finally. I thought the two of you were never gonna get on with it.” 

This left you squirming with a mild embarrassment, and definitely not thinking about how high up you were anymore. 

Looking back, the memory was painful - not sweet or fond as it had once been to you. 

But it wasn’t nearly as painful as the memory of the day you and Fred had broken up. 

He had asked you to be his girlfriend officially only a few days after the World Cup. He wanted you to know what that kiss meant to him, and he wanted the privilege of more kisses from you, on top of the ‘honour’ (his exact wording) of going back to Hogwarts with you on his arm as his girlfriend, making all the other boys in your year ‘pathetically jealous’. Of course, it was everything you wanted, he was everything you wanted, so you said yes. 

The two of you dated for nearly two full happy years - right through your sixth year and into your seventh, until in April of your seventh year, shortly after Fred’s birthday, when everything came crashing down around you. 

It wasn’t unusual of Fred to pull you away after a class - his hand in yours, igniting fluttery giggles from your lungs as he pulled you down the corridors to whatever secret little spot he had picked out. Even with Umbridge at Hogwarts, implementing more rules and cracking down on ‘fraternisation’ between students, you and Fred still found ways to sneak off to have your private little moments together. 

So when Fred took you off to one of those private corners on chilly spring afternoon, you assumed that this was no different. You fell into the natural rhythm of pinning him against a wall, sealing your lips firmly to his in a kiss and waiting for his hand to sneak up your skirt while his tongue ventured into your mouth. You were shocked when this time, he didn’t kiss you back. He was limp and unreceptive against you, and that was when you realised that you had read the tone of the interaction very wrong - even if him dragging you away by the hand always led to making out in a quiet corner, and more than a bit of groping. 

You pulled back, looking at him with confusion and disappointment plainly across your face. 

“What’s wrong, Freddie?” You asked, well in the habit of using the nickname for him. 

Fred’s expression was filled with sullen dread, and it made your stomach twist. It truly made you fearful of whatever he was going to say next, and you took a step back from him, widening the gap between the two of you in the dusty, draughty old stairwell. You suddenly felt too cold, even with your uniform sweater and thick robes on, and wrapped your arms around yourself to compensate. 

“There’s something I have to tell you.” He announced quietly, continuing to lean on the wall that you had pressed him up against, staring at the floor, his eyes unwilling to meet you. 

What? Had he cheated on you? Did he want to break up? 

What terrible thing could possibly make this bright, funny joker so damn sad and serious? 

“What is it?” You asked, filling with dread, your throat tightening up more by the second. 

“George and I have decided that it’s about time we take our leave.” Fred announced, his eyes only flickering to you for a moment, looking for some kind of reaction. You were only further confused, and waited for him to explain. “The lease for the shop in Diagon Alley finally came through, and-” 

“Well that’s great news, Fred.” You said, trying to sound happy and upbeat beyond the tension that was still tight in your chest. You had no clue why he was so downtrodden - the joke shop was his dream, and now that they had secured a location for it, that dream was coming true. 

He heaved a sigh, his eyes turning to gaze out a nearby window for a moment before he turned back to you. 

“It means we have to leave, darling.” He said sharply. 

Your insides became heavy. 

You knew it was a very Fred and George thing - so intent on not doing their exams, desperate to escape any further academics. You wanted to ask why they wouldn’t stay until the end of the school year, but you knew that you would get answers about how they didn’t need marks from exams that they were likely going to fail anyway to run a shop that they now owned. 

It was something founded on their own talents and ideas, and they didn’t need the approval of professors marking them wrong or right in order to do it. 

It was the life they had always dreamed of. And you were intensely proud of them for it. 

So why did you still have that overwhelming feeling of dread? 

“So - when are we leaving?” You asked, trying to sound confident and firm in your words even though you knew what was likely coming next. 

You felt intensely disappointed when the all too predictable outcome smashed you in the face. 

“You’re not coming with us.” Fred said quietly. 

“Why not?” You argued gently. 

You would drop everything and go with them - you felt far more emotional attachment to being with Fred than you did to finishing your year at Hogwarts. You knew that you could be a useful hand around the shop. Any venture helping Fred would be a worthy one to you. But staring you down were the calculating eyes of someone who had been telling you over the past years how much he didn’t want to disrupt your studies with his antics, because he thought you had a ‘brilliant mind’, and you were ‘so much smarter’ than him and George. 

He thought that you could actually pull some decent - no, brilliant grades on your NEWTs and truly make something of yourself. The shop was a big dream of his and George’s, but Fred knew that you were destined for something so much greater that truly challenged and fully utilised your brilliance. So he wasn’t going to let you be dragged down to mediocrity by him. 

Realising this, part of you still ached. Why was he so intent on leaving if it meant leaving you behind? 

“Please don’t be stupid-” Fred sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, so I’m stupid now?” You scoffed. 

He hadn’t meant to let the harsh word leave his lips - at least, he hadn’t meant it in such a harsh way. 

“Y/N-” Fred used your actual name, something he rarely did, but you barreled right over whatever he was going to say with your next words. 

You were hurting now, and you didn’t entirely care what he had to say. 

“If I’m so stupid, then why should I even bother to stay here and take my NEWTs?” You hissed, twisting around his accidental slip into something he had never meant. “Or am I too stupid to even work at a silly little joke shop with you?” 

Fred scowled deeply. It didn’t suit him. 

“Y/N, this ‘silly little joke shop’ has been my dream since I was five years old!” He barked, now taking your heat of the moment words and running away with them. “You don’t-” 

“I guess I was stupid enough to believe that I was part of that dream!” You cried out in return, cutting off his words once again. 

‘You are.’ He choked down the words. ‘But I can’t bear to bring you down just because I want to be with you. I could never be so selfish.’ 

“I-” He choked on whatever he was going to say, swallowing it down. “I can’t do this right now.” 

He moved to storm off completely, hoping to speak with you later when you both had calmed down, hoping to have a proper, happy goodbye with you before he and George actually left. 

But your next words made him freeze on the spot, and wiped away all of those hopes within him. 

“Fred Weasley, if you walk away, we’re done.” You said, now choking on tears. 

You were utterly insulted that he wouldn’t even fight for you - that he wouldn’t even promise that his heart would be waiting for you after you graduated. To you, it was a sure sign that he was saying that his shop was more important to him than you were. That you were just some stupid schoolgirl fling to him; that along with the shop, he wanted to move on to other women, to find someone that he actually wanted to marry. 

You had never been a part of the dream he had for his life - you had just been a passing fancy in his eye. 

For Fred, it was all too painful. This was the conversation he had been utterly dreading since he and George had decided to take their leave, and it was going far worse than he had planned in his head. He couldn’t face the pain - he couldn’t face hurting you. He couldn’t face missing you, even during a few short months apart before you did graduate. 

So he then did something so terribly stupid, looking to bomb the relationship wide open - hoping to end all of the pain before it even started. 

“Good.” He said, barely turning his head to even look over his shoulder at you. “Would’ve been a waste of parchment writing to you, anyway.” 

With those final, painful words, he stomped off down the stairs, leaving you to collapse against one of the nearby walls in a puddle of tears - for the first time in a long time, without Fred to muffle your sobs in a comforting hug. 

You hadn’t been there to watch him and George ride off on their brooms when they finally gave Umbridge everything she deserved - you had been locked in your dorm, sobbing into your pillow because of that horrible, relationship ending fight. You had only heard from other people later that they had left Hogwarts in a blaze of glory, and you were the only person who knew for certain where they had gone and what their plans were now. 

You hated to admit it - but you missed Fred Weasley. 

You tried your hardest to get over him. You threw yourself into your studies, and you did pass your NEWTs with some of the highest marks in your class. But then, any thought of what potential career you might take on was tossed aside when the world went into upheaval at the hands of Death Eaters. And unintentionally, you were right back at Fred’s side again. 

It was a dreadful thing - being forced to see your ex on such a frequent basis. 

The last time being just a few short days ago when he had come into the Apothecary that you worked at in Diagon Alley, looking for some ingredients for a new WWW product that he wanted to make a test batch of. You had still spent last Christmas with his family, at the nagging insistence of Molly. After your mother had turned up dead and your father was missing, and you had to face the fact that he had likely defected to the Death Eaters out of fear (and the stupidity of his ingrained ‘old ways’), you didn’t really have any other family to turn to, aside from the Weasleys. 

You saw Fred a lot more often than you should - more often than you wanted to, in fact. Because the more often you had to see him walk into your shop with a grin on his face and bear the small talk he would force you into before he finally put in his order, the more you ached. You wanted nothing more than to be able to get away - to go someplace far away that Fred would never find you, so that you could finally heal, could finally get over the way he had broken your heart. 

But the country, and likely the state of all Wizardkind, was in upheaval. So many lives were at risk, and you had your part to play. You had signed on to become a member of the Order the minute you turned seventeen, and you weren’t prepared to shirk that commitment now, just because of a bit of girlish heartbreak. 

It was the reason that you were standing in the now empty residence of Number Four, Privet Drive. You had been called upon last minute to replace Tonks on this particular mission, for reasons that everyone seemed tight lipped about. But you weren’t going to question it - you were just going to step up and do your duty so that Harry could be transported safely, and hopefully go on to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. 

According to Mad-Eye Moody, it was all very straight forward. Six of the fourteen members of the group would take Polyjuice Potion to turn themselves into decoy versions of Harry, making for seven Harrys in total, and the other half of the group would pair off with a Harry each to be their escort. 

You weren’t a huge fan of the idea of Fred disguising himself as Harry, essentially putting a huge target on his back - but the plan had already been set in place. He had already agreed to it. There was no room for you to protest now. 

“We’re not a big fan of the idea either, mate.” George spoke up when Harry protested against the idea of people risking their lives by being disguised as him. 

“Yeah, imagine something went wrong, then we’d be stuck as a scrawny, specky git forever.” Fred added on with his usual humorous tone. 

You held back a laugh at this comment, and everyone in the room eyed you harshly as you choked on your own breath. Fred smirked, proud that after all this time, he could still draw a laugh out of you. 

Your sense of humour about the whole situation was soon stamped out when Mad-Eye mentioned brooms. The group would have to be flying because Harry couldn’t apparate or use any other common form of transport without the Ministry knowing. 

“Brooms?” You questioned, knowing that your tone sounded far too panicked. “We - we’re flying?” 

“Yes.” Mad-Eye snipped curtly in return. “What exactly about my explanation was unclear, Ms. L/N?” 

His sharp tone and his glare in your direction, along with his use of your surname, instantly transported you back you Defense Against the Darks Arts classes in your sixth year, when you had been intimidated by the man - even if, strangely enough, you hadn’t been taught by the same man who now stood before you. 

You swallowed tightly, a large lump forming in your throat already - an involuntary, wicked reaction overtaking your body because of your fear of heights. Fred looked at you with sad knowing in his eyes, and you didn’t notice when he clenched his fists tightly at his sides, resisting the urge to swaddle you in a comforting hold. 

“Nothing was unclear, just-” You stuttered, breathing in deeply, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t have much experience with flying, and-” 

“Weasley - er - Fred, has already informed me of that.” Mad-Eye said, correcting himself when he realised just how many ‘Weasleys’ were on this mission and how utterly confusing that would get. “He’s insisted on taking you due to your lack of experience. Is that all?” 

Obviously, you didn’t want to publicly admit to your fear. You couldn’t reveal it as the terrible weakness that it was, especially not when there were so many other worries at play. 

“Yes, it’s fine.” You said, nodding, trying to keep the conversation short and keep the attention off you. 

“Good. Now if we’re all done dawdling, we need to get to work.” 

It was downright strange seeing Fred transformed into Harry. 

Even complete with the dorky clothes and the glasses, you still easily spotted him out of the crowd of ‘specky gits’. Maybe it was the years of practice that you had telling him apart from George that made it so easy for you, but he was still so irritably Fred. The fact that he slid his wand into his back pocket - something you had warned him dozens of times would likely result in the wand crunching in half and breaking when he sat down (and annoyed you to the point of you snatching it out of his back pocket to save it, especially before he sat down). The way he reached up to scratch his nose, the smirk on his face when he kept glancing over at the other Harry you were sure had to be George. Especially with the way they were steadily side-eyeing each other, speaking volumes with their looks and having a silent conversation that nobody else knew of. 

The fact that his eyes kept flickering to you every few moments definitely helped you to pick him out of the crowd. Even though you were used to a gentle hazel gazing at you rather than that piercing blue, there was still a unique concern behind his eyes when he looked at you from beyond those spectacles - the same kind of gentle seriousness that you hadn’t really seen from him since he had held your shaking hand on the stairs of the stands on the day of The World Cup. 

Stupidly, it only really occurred to you how close you would have to be with Fred, tightly riding behind him on the back of his broom, when you went outside and he ushered you to climb onto the back of his broom behind him. It had been a little over a year since you had broken up with Fred, and since then, you had not touched him. 

Every greeting had been friendly, but from a distance. Even when he came into the Apothecary and laid his hand on the counter, you snaked out of the way in time to avoid his fingers so much as brushing by yours. You always laid his order on the counter for him to pick it up himself, so that his fingers wouldn’t accidentally brush against yours. You made sure never to have contact with him. And now, you were being forced to climb onto the back of his broom, to hold him tight. 

But you couldn’t protest. You couldn’t demand to switch partners now because of some petty angst you were harbouring about a break-up that had happened so long ago. (Would you call it angst, or stupid, longing, painful heartbreak?) You couldn’t complain - not when this was about transporting Harry safely. This was about something so much bigger. 

Sure, it wouldn’t be exactly the same as holding onto your Fred (not that he was yours anymore - you had to remember that). He was Harry-Fred right now, so he was much shorter and thinner, and you could easily pretend that he wasn’t Fred at all. Which is what you forced yourself to think about as you swung a shaking leg over the broom and climbed on, wrapping your arms around his waist, preparing for take-off. 

It was a bit harder to pretend that this wasn’t Fred when you caught the faintest whiff of his expensive cologne (something he had only started wearing once the shop took off, something you noticed on him for the first time when he came to visit you at the Apothecary). It was definitely still lingering on his skin, something that was so painfully Fred even while you stared at the back of Harry’s wild black hair. 

It pierced your heart a little bit more when he peered over his shoulder at you, striking you as so Fred with those somehow warm, caring blue eyes and gently asking: 

“Good?” 

To which you replied: 

“m fine.” 

The most terrible lie you had ever conjured - something that was soon covered up by Mad-Eye shouting some last minute instructions and waving everyone off. 

When Fred kicked off the ground, you were immediately met with the most sickening wave of nausea that you had ever experienced in your life. You got way too high up for your liking within seconds, the houses on the ground growing far too small in your view, and you couldn’t fight the urge to shut your eyes. 

Unfortunately, it only made you dizzier, but it calmed your nerves a slight bit. You didn’t even realise how tightly you were clutching onto Fred, an utter death grip around his waist, until you heard him let out a grunt of pain from his stomach muscles being strangled by your arms with your fingers digging into him like claws, holding on for dear life. 

“S-sorry.” You stuttered out, shivering from the pure fear of it all, rather than the cool breeze that was whipping at your face. “Sorry, sorry!” 

“I’m sorry!” Fred replied - it was still strange hearing him speak in Harry’s voice, and you were glad that it was temporary. “I should have told them you weren’t up to this mission, I-” 

“I’m fine!” You barked back, hating the idea that your fear would make you unfit for a mission. But in a sense, you knew it was true. You would have spit in the face of any Death Eater, but your fear of heights was so utterly crippling. “Fred, don’t you dare for a moment suggest-” 

“We’ve been breached!” You heard someone - Arthur’s voice, shouting from up ahead. 

Your eyes whipped open and suddenly, you were filled with an entirely different kind of fear. Smoky black clouds of Death Eaters whipped through the sky around you - somehow, they had discovered the plan. And now, they were targeting all of the fake Harrys, firing off curses in every direction, looking for the real one. 

They were targeting Fred. 

That was the only thing at the forefront of your mind - they were going to hurt Fred. 

“Y/N-?” 

“Just get us out of here!” You told him. “I’ll cover you!” 

You knew that you couldn’t close your eyes now. Of course you would step up to protect him. No matter if the two of you were lovers, friends, or something estranged - you still loved him in your heart, and you would protect him no matter what. 

You grabbed your wand out of your jacket and gripped it stiffly, firing a stunning curse at the first silver mask you saw, still tightly gripping onto Fred’s jacket with your other hand. He used both his hands on the broom, gripping tighter with his legs to steer better, years of Quidditch honed skill coming in handy. His ability to be calm and fly mindfully while Bludgers were flying at his head made him a lot calmer with multiple Death Eaters firing potentially deadly curses all around him. In the back of his mind, he thought that Wood would be proud. 

You were still shaking horribly, and a few of your spells didn’t land on the first try, but you kept trying. You centred yourself, remembering what you were doing, who you were here for. In your mind, it wasn’t about Harry, it was never about Harry - it was about Fred. It was because Fred had approached you about the last minute replacement, it was because Fred was the one on the broom in front of you, the one you would have died to protect. 

You didn’t see when someone Apparated in a thick cloud of black smoke behind you, and raised their wand in your direction, hitting you squarely in the back with a heavy jinx. It was the force of a brick wall smacking you, something that sent you and Fred tumbling end over end through the sky and sent you flying cleanly off the broom because you didn’t have the instinct to grip the wood with your thighs like he did. 

You let out a shrill scream as you felt yourself falling, your worst fear coming to life. 

Thankfully, Fred was quicker than gravity - quicker than death. 

He laser focused on you, and suddenly, everyone else was gone. All the supposed danger, all the Death Eaters - even other members of the Order who might have needed his help - they all vanished in his eyes. 

It was only you. 

He turned the broom into a deadly nose dive, racing down toward you, reaching with his hand out, and in seconds, while you were still hundreds of feet off the ground - he snatched you. He had your wrist gripped so tightly in his hand - slightly sweaty, already slipping. But he wouldn’t have let go of you if Lord Voldemort himself commanded it.  

He likely would have died with that tight grip still around your wrist in those moments if someone had hit him with the killing curse. 

He slowed the broom down, turning up out of the dive, intent to get you away from the fight, driving forward. Scarily, his arm muscles were already shaking from holding up all of your body weight. 

You stared up at him with tears of pure terror dancing in your eyes, and though he was wearing the mask of The Chosen One - in those moments, the terrified, caring, loving eyes of your Fred were staring right back at you. 

As much as you trusted him, you felt yourself slipping out of his grip, and more fear swelled inside of you. 

“Freddie, help me!” You screamed, shaking, flailing under his grip, trying to reach your other arm up to help as he struggled to hold onto you. “Freddie, please, I don’t wanna die!” 

“I’m not gonna let you die!” He replied, desperation gripping his throat. “Just - look at me. Don’t look down.” 

Of course, you were distinctly reminded of that day at The World Cup. And somehow, you felt the same sense of safety with him now that you did then - even if you didn’t have the railing or even the gravity of something under your feet. 

His muscles shook harder, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold onto you for much longer. 

He had to pull you up. 

“I’ve got you.” Fred huffed, straining with the effort. “I’ve got you-” 

He tried pulling you up, but his muscles shook harder in protest, and he let out a harsh, murderous scream of frustration. And then he did the only thing that he could think to do. He gripped onto you tighter, and he used his legs and his other hand to do a sickeningly sharp barrel roll, twisting the broom completely around by leaning with his right shoulder. He flipped the entire broom with the hopes that you would get the chance to be flipped back onto it safely. 

Luckily, even though you let out another terrified scream, you got the hint and hooked your leg around the wood mid-air, holstering your shaking body back behind him. You gripped onto Fred even tighter then, and one glance around told you that luckily, or unluckily, the fight had cleared off from around the two of you. 

Perhaps they had heard you call this imposter Harry by the name ‘Fred’, perhaps you had given the real Harry away and ruined the whole plan. As you squeezed your eyes shut again and shoved your now tearful face into Fred’s back, selfishly, you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care. 

The rest of the trip went on too long for your liking - you were still crawling with anxiety and eager to have your feet back on the ground. 

Toward the end of it, you felt Harry-Fred’s body shift back into the tall, more muscular form that you were familiar with (somehow a bit more muscular than you remembered, but you tried not to get caught up on that detail). You were more than relieved when you felt your feet brushing against the ground with the landing. Distantly, you heard the familiar, comfortingly worried baulking of Molly’s voice, and you opened your eyes to see that Fred’s head was much higher up than it had been before, and his hair was thankfully returned back to its bright red state. 

Molly rushed over to Fred, and there was some conversation, but you couldn’t make it out - blood was thumping in your ears, your body still overtaken by all the horrible symptoms of your fear. The moment that Fred dropped the broom in order to step away from it, you stumbled off into the grass on weak legs. 

You hardly realised that you were hyperventilating - you simply felt dizzy, felt your chest aching from the lack of breath; you noticed that your vision was blurred with tears, and you knew that you weren’t getting enough oxygen. You pressed now muddy hands to your face in desperation, trying to usher more air past your lips, and it was then that a streak of orange fell into your view as Fred dropped to his knees in front of you. He had heard you gasping, and of course, rushed to you with nothing more than concern flooding his system once again. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” He murmured, trying his best not to panic himself at seeing you like this - he gently took a hold of your face, guiding your vision toward him. “Look at me. You’re alright now. You’re safe.” 

Of course you knew that. You knew that you would always be safe with Fred. 

But your body hadn’t even registered the fact that you had landed yet - the panic only now fully setting in, bringing with it the most cruel, shocking symptoms you had ever experienced. You did the only thing you could think of - the only thing that would truly make you feel safe. Something you knew would truly ground you after experiencing such chaos so high up in the air. 

You launched yourself toward Fred, pressing your face into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist in a firm hug as you tried to stifle down sobs. He easily accepted this, his thick arms coming to cradle your back, selfishly thankful to have you back in his arms. He gently rocked you back and forth as he peppered more soothing words beside your ear. 

“You’re alright now, darling.” He said, letting the pet name slip so easily that it frightened him. He rubbed a hand up and down your back, feeling your gasping panic all too quickly soothe away under the firm warmth of his touch. “You’re alright.” 

Almost instinctively, he laid a kiss on your temple, not entirely realising that this wasn’t necessarily something an ex-boyfriend would do - he was so ripe with the urge to comfort you, the need to make your pain go away. He couldn’t help but take a little something selfish as the empathetic waves of your panic echoed over to him. 

“I was never gonna let you fall.” He whispered, almost speaking these words to himself - a sacred promise. 

He had regretted every day since the break-up, and even if he couldn’t be your lover, he was never going to let you get hurt. 

You gripped him tighter, your breathing almost back to normal now, and you pushed your face tighter into his chest, relishing in the firm warmth of his body against you. This was something you hadn’t felt in far too long. Fred placed another kiss on the top of your head. He was about to say something entirely dangerous when another bit of chaos came tumbling through the garden, distracting him away from you and causing the words to die off in his throat. 

Remus, hauling George across the grass - and George, slumped over, a massive amount of blood dripping down the side of his head. 

“Georgie.” Fred gasped quietly. 

Your head whipped around at this, and in sync, you and Fred scrambled to your feet, rushing to see what had happened to him. Fred lifted George’s other arm to help get him inside and safely rested him on the couch. 

It was a horror show. 

The flesh of George’s ear had been blown to bits, blood smearing down across his face and spilling down the side of his neck; he was sickly pale and barely conscious. His eyes only flickered, giving you some sense of life in him when Fred called out his name after making sure he was resting comfortably on the couch. 

“Georgie?” 

There was a rare quiver in Fred’s voice that made your stomach quake. Fear. You were not accustomed to hearing Fred fearful, not of anything. Even when he had abandoned Hogwarts and dove into a career as a shop owner without a single clue if he would find success, he did so without a single bit of fear in his heart. 

But of course - seeing his dear brother like this, knowing that someone he loved had been so close to danger - it made him terrified. 

“Hey, Fred.” George croaked back weakly. 

At least he was conscious enough to speak. That gave you quite a bit of relief. 

“How’re ya feeling?” Fred asked. 

“Saint-like.” George replied, a tired smirk gracing his lips that told you he was forming a joke - something that was utterly hilarious in his mind that would only make sense to others when he delivered the punch line. 

You wanted to sob, you wanted to laugh, you wanted to scream. Of course he would be making jokes only moments after nearly being killed. 

“Come again?” Fred said quietly, tentatively. 

Perhaps it sounded partially dangerous to him like it did to you. Perhaps George felt Saint-like because he was too close to death. 

Both of you and Fred held your breath as you waited for the reply. 

“Saint-like.” George grinned. And then he lifted a tired hand and gestured toward the bloody hole on the side of his head before he delivered his glowing punchline. “I’m holy. I’m holy, Fred. Get it?” 

Fred grinned, and you let out a gasping chuckle that you knew was mostly tears. Behind you, Molly inhaled sharply through her teeth, running a hand over her forehead with the stress, and Ginny shook her head as she exhaled an exhausted sigh. 

“The whole wide world of ear related humour, and you go for ‘I’m holy’?” Fred replied, unable to resist humouring George. “That’s pathetic.” 

You knew that if either of them knew anything about the story of the Muggle painter Van Gogh, then they would have been making jokes in that lane. 

“Reckon I’m still better looking than you.” George added on tiredly. 

“You were always better looking than him.” You said, your voice throttled by tears, unable to resist. 

When you turned around to retreat, you saw Ginny clutching onto Molly, clearly hiding tears in her mother’s shoulder, Molly’s face dancing with a kind of sadness you had never seen before. You knew you couldn’t run from your pain. You had known the Weasleys for so long, loved them too much. You had a distinct kind of duty here. 

“Molly, do you have a cauldron around?” You asked, hating how choked with tears your voice was. “I can whip-up something for his pain. I do it at the shop all the time. And a Sleeping Draught, so he can get some rest.” 

It was true - one of your many duties working at the Apothecary was making and bottling simple, common potions to sell (pregnancy test potions, simple multi-use pain potions, Dreamless Sleep Draughts, cures for warts and other common rashes) - many people liked the convenience of coming in and buying a potion for everyday uses rather than having to make it themselves. 

“There’s no need-” George began to protest, but Fred easily cut him off. 

“Come off it.” Fred hissed toward his brother, not taking kindly to ‘selfless’ idea of George not accepting something for the pain he was clearly in. Then, Fred rose up from his place beside George and turned to you with a look of intense concern on his features. “Whatever you need.” 

… 

You had barely begun to set up everything you needed for the brewing when the others finally came in, bringing more chaos with them. Remus accused Harry of being an imposter, which was quickly proven false. Apparently the Order had been betrayed, which explained the presence of Death Eaters on the mission so easily. They had used inside information to know when Harry was being transported - it was only luck that they had been thrown off by the Polyjuice Potion, having to chase down multiple Harrys and not knowing which one was real (even if George got gravely injured in the process). 

Mad-Eye had been killed. 

You weren’t sure if what you felt was mourning for the man. You hadn’t known him all that well. Not the true version of him, anyway. You continued to weep quietly as you worked on the potions, but you knew it wasn’t specifically for him. His death only served to remind you how truly dangerous the mission had been - how close you, Fred, and George, and the others had all come to death. How lucky it was that nobody else had been killed. 

You tried not to let the suffocating gloom that had overtaken the Burrow due to the near failure of the entire mission disrupt the process of making the potions needed for George. When Molly didn’t have some of the ingredients that you needed, you gave Fred your spare key to the Apothecary and he popped over to get them for you. Mr. Michaelchuk, who ran the place, had always told you to ‘take what you needed’, and this was the one time you had actually taken him up on the offer. 

When Fred returned, he fussed at George’s side, helping him change into pyjamas (when everyone else had cleared out) and tucking him in comfortably to a makeshift bed on the couch, with lots of pillows and extra cosy blankets, to the point where he got annoyed with Fred coddling him. You always knew that the two were good friends in addition to being brothers, as close as two people can be, but you had never seen so much abundant affection between them. It was sweet. 

Molly came back downstairs wearing a plaid dressing gown, with a pair of tiny reading glasses balanced on her nose, her slippers scuffing along the floor. She mentioned that Arthur was already ‘snoring away’ - but of course, she had no intentions of going to bed herself. Because of course, if George was down here on the couch, it was so that she could watch over him while she busied herself with knitting - much like she had when Arthur had been on the ward at St. Mungo’s after he had been attacked by the snake. You had gotten a particularly nice jumper for Christmas that year, one that you still wore often when it got particularly cold outside. 

Fred had settled to sit on the couch by George’s feet, and the two had fallen into a hushed conversation, though you didn’t hear most of it. And of course, it wasn’t long before Molly rushed Fred off to bed, just like she had done with everyone else, wanting to give George the space to rest without distractions from visitors. 

“-just get her back, you idiot.” You hear George hiss in a whisper before Molly pushed Fred toward the stairs. 

He couldn’t possibly be talking about…? 

No. 

No, he wasn’t. 

You didn’t think about it. Instead, you let yourself get lost in the meditative process of brewing, making sure that the potions were perfect. You made sure that George was pain-free and lost to a deep, restful, healing sleep (with a few pre-brewed bottles of the potions to spare that would keep his pain at bay for the next few days) before you finally went upstairs, ready to collapse with exhaustion. 

You passed by Fred and George’s room on your way to your final destination, Ginny’s room, where you would be staying with her and Hermione, from now up until Bill and Fleur’s wedding. After which, you would return to your apartment above the Apothecary and try to resume your best sense of ‘normal’ life. All of your things were already unpacked in Ginny’s room, and you had a sleeping bag set up on the floor there. 

But of course, you naturally came to a stop at the mouth of Fred’s open bedroom doorway, letting an instinctive caring overtake you and participating in the need to check on him. 

The sight you saw made your heart ache. 

Fred was sitting on the edge of his twin bed, his posture slumped with pure exhaustion. He hadn’t even changed out of the now ill-fitting Harry clothes that he had to wear for the mission: jeans, a tee shirt, and a grey sport jacket that were now coated in dirt and traces of George’s blood, all oddly short in the limbs and emphasising his tallness, his hands still stained bright red in a way that couldn’t be washed off. 

His face was marked with tear tracks, and his tired, dead gaze was fixated on George’s still neatly made matching twin bed. A space that was hauntingly empty across from his - a sign that his brother was missing. A sign of just how easily someone precious could have been taken from him that night. 

“Freddie?” 

You croaked out, the nickname slipping out in a way you couldn’t control once again, causing him to snap out of whatever distant, depressing thoughts he was caught in. His head jolted toward you, only now realising that you had been standing in the doorway for so long. 

“Y/N,” He responded, his voice choked by tiredness, sadness. 

It was so alarmingly strange to see someone who was usually the pinnacle of laughter reduced down to this. You had never seen Fred Weasley so sad before. 

You had seen him angry, on occasion - like when someone insulted you, or when he had been banned from Quidditch for getting into a fistfight with Malfoy. You had seen him annoyed - like when he found out that the age to enter the TriWizard Tournament was seventeen, and he was only a few months away from being eligible. (You were thankful for that one, and secretly thankful when his Ageing Potion had failed). 

You had seen Fred go through a lot - but you genuinely believed that was the first time you had seen him so deflated in the face of the world. 

He rose to his feet, turned his back to you, almost as if trying to hide. He raised a hand to his face, and your heart ached more when you realised that he was trying to wipe away tears. 

“Come on, let’s get you ready for bed.” You said, moving forward, gently putting a hand on his shoulder, moving up to peel the sport jacket off him. 

You knew that the sadness, something he so rarely felt, had paralyzed him. You knew that sleep was what all of you needed right now - some rest to get your heads on straight. And you wanted to help him in any way that you could. 

“I can’t-” Fred huffed, stepping away from you, putting some distance between the two of you in the small room. “I can’t do this right now.” 

Your stomach curled into a horrible knot as he echoed the words he had spoken to you on that horrible day, when he had broken up with you and relinquished himself from your presence without a second thought. 

It truly hit you then - he didn’t want your help. He didn’t want to be near you now. He had only held you close a few hours ago because it had been a matter of life and death. He had helped to calm you down because it was the friendly thing to do. He didn’t want you here now. 

“Okay.” You choked out, nodding, taking a step toward the door. “O-okay.” 

A hot tear rolled down your face, and you moved to make your way toward Ginny’s room. You were harshly whipped across the emotional spectrum again when Fred stopped you. 

“Y/N, no.” He said, reaching out and grabbing onto your elbow. “Wait.” 

“What, Fred?” You wheezed, your body breathless and exhausted from the horrible roller coaster that you had been on that night. You knew that you glared at him horribly, but you couldn’t help it. “What is it that you want from me?” 

Fred took a step back, as though you had burned him, running stiff hands through his hair. You could have easily run off, turned your back on him and never spoken to him again. Just like he had done to you on that day so long ago. But you waited with your chest tight, waiting for him to finally give you an answer. Did he want to be friends? Did he want you to disappear from his life completely? Did he want-? 

“I can’t-” He choked out, clearly struggling for breath. “I can’t…” 

He swallowed around a fat tongue, and after a heavy moment, he finally got the words out. 

“I can’t lose you.” 

The words spooked you more than the sight of George’s bloodied, blown-apart ear. 

You stared Fred down with a ghost in your eyes, somehow more terrified than you had been when you had been dangling hundreds of feet above London. He was frantic, rapidly searching for more words to explain himself. 

“I - I almost…” He gasped, his throat tightly constricting again. “You almost slipped out of my hands.” 

He spoke the words as though they were a horrible curse, raising his hands in front of him as if to demonstrate the point, as if to demonise his own limbs for not having enough strength to hold you up. His hands shook with undistilled anxiety, with anger towards himself. 

His declaration gave you that sickly sense of nausea, as though you were back up in the air again. You realised that maybe he hadn’t been sitting on the edge of the bed, mourning about potentially losing George - but instead, he had been thinking about you. 

“I didn’t. I didn’t slip.” You replied, the words choked off in your throat, rushing to assure him of the good he had done. 

You were unable to resist the urge to reach out and take his hands in yours, steadying his grip with a firm anger of your own. You were unsure how he could be so cruel toward himself when he had saved your life only hours before. 

“You held me up, Fred. You didn’t let me fall.” 

He let out a huff, shaking his head negatively. 

You knew there was something more troubling him - something deeper that he had yet to speak of, or perhaps wouldn’t tell you at all. He grinded his jaw tightly and slipped his hands away from yours. You stood there, looking at him tensely, wondering if he was going to clue you in, or if he would simply say goodnight and let himself stew with whatever horrible emotions he was feeling. 

“I can’t live like this.” He declared harshly, his throat raw. “I can’t live with you at arm’s length.” 

So what? Was he saying that… he was upset about the break-up? 

Was he saying that he hadn’t actually wanted to be apart from you? 

A look of pure confusion knit across your features, and in the murky silence, Fred moved on to explaining. 

“I let you go once before.” 

He whispered, the words so quiet on his lips, a crazed type of regret dancing in his eyes - in an instant, you knew he wasn’t talking about the mission or flying. He was talking about how easily he let you go from his life - the break-up. 

“I let you slip away from me far too easily. And it was the stupidest thing I have ever done.” 

“Freddie-?” You choked out, more chaotic emotions rocketing through your body now. Anticipation, anxiety - that love for him that you had bottled away slowly creeping back in. But you couldn’t bear to let it flow through you, not yet, not until you knew. 

“If one of us were to die tomorrow, I couldn’t live my last day knowing that I wasted it not being yours.” He declared, the pure passion in his words causing every small hair on your body to stand up on end, making you dizzy. “I know that I’m the biggest git on earth for what I did to you, and for not apologising sooner, but please, please, please, darling-” 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You grabbed both sides of the sport jacket and used it to haul him down toward you, planting your mouth firmly onto his, moaning into a kiss that you had longed for, having so sorely missed the touch of his lips on yours. 

You had missed him so damn much. 

Fred was quick to keep up, letting out a delighted sigh of his own, his stomach doing flips in delight, almost in disbelief of just how lucky he was that you hadn’t slapped him across the face and stormed out. 

When your hands ventured down, smoothing across his body - he became even more delighted that you seemed to want more than a kiss out of him. And he was quick to prepare. 

He reached to his back pocket for his wand and pointed it at the still open bedroom door, performing a quick spell that slammed it shut and locked it. In the back of his mind, he was thankful that his bedroom had some silencing wards around it from the days when Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had been in its infancy, operating their prototype experiments out of this room in the darkest hours of the morning. (Percy got sick of being woken up by the twins’ excited voices and the sound of sputtering cauldrons, and put the silencing wards around their room for his own sake, not knowing how much more it let the twins get away with.) 

Fred was surprised when you took another fitful grip on the front of his shirt, using it to direct him back toward his bed and shoving him down onto it with a strength that he barely knew you had. He fell sideways across the small twin bed, his knees crumbling along the side of the mattress, leaving him sitting with his feet on the floor and his body half collapsed against the tightly tucked-in covers that his mother had prepared before everyone’s arrival. 

He was utterly weak to your whims, anyway, and would have gone wherever you put him. 

He was expecting you to climb on top of him, something needy inside of him yearning for the feeling of your body on top of his after missing it for so long. And he found himself further surprised when you dropped to your knees in front of him, settling your shoulders between his spread thighs, forcing him to spread his legs wider apart to accommodate you. The action spiking a sharp breath out of his lips when you shoved up the hem of the shirt that technically wasn’t his and reached for the button on the jeans that fit him even worse as his cock grew to life underneath them. 

“Y/N, darling-” He choked out, breathy and sharp through his teeth, an intense wave of lust hitting him all at once. 

All night, both of you had been through the emotional ringer - calm determination, fear, possessiveness, mild relief, grief. All while trying to hold back your emotions for each other, balancing right on the edge. Trying desperately to hold each other at arm’s length. 

And now he had you right where he wanted you, where he had been dreaming of you being for months since the break-up; and for some stupid reason, some part of him still felt that it was wrong. That part of him screaming that he should be the one on his knees serving you, that he needed to better apologise-

He reached for your shoulder, clearly trying to coax you back up onto the bed with him, and you swatted the touch away. 

“Don’t-” You choked in return, continuing on your determined path, ripping his zipper down and tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “Freddie, please. Let me do this.” 

You looked up at him with a glassy heat in your eyes that he had never seen before. All the times he had pinned you against walls in quiet corners at Hogwarts, with his hand up your skirt - he had never seen you so wild, so desperate. 

Something utterly possessive rippled through you - something that screamed that you needed to have him weak and moaning for you, that you needed to worship him, to thank him for doing the impossible and saving your life. He was a strong, wonderful man and you needed to taste that strength. You needed to know that you were the only thing that could have him weak, quivering, begging. 

“Fuck-” Fred hissed out when you reached past the band of his underwear and grabbed his cock - your warm touch wrapped around his shaft felt like a deadly awakening, especially when it had been so long since anything but his own had had touched his cock. 

All too soon, he surrendered to you entirely and lifted his hips, slipping the fabric of his jeans and his underwear down completely past his thighs, letting you have whatever you wanted from him. He supposed that’s how it always went with the two of you - he would let you have whatever you wanted, even before you asked. (That’s why the break-up had gone down the way it had - it had been the one time he had been stubborn on something, not simply letting you have your own way.) 

You took him in your hand, slowly pumping his length as you admired him, gently re-familiarising yourself with his body, feeling like it had been far too long. 

“Did you miss it, darling?” He asked, looking down the length of his body at you with a cocky smile stretched across his soft lips. 

You rolled your eyes, hating the possibility of making his ego any larger. 

“Oh yes, your wonderful big cock was the thing I missed most about you,” You griped in return, hoping that your sarcastic tone was more than apparent. 

“I knew you only wanted me for my body.” Fred chuckled. 

As much as you wanted to deny it - Fred Weasley’s cock was a marvel that you couldn’t have forgotten if you had tried. 

During your time apart, it haunted your heated dreams, turning them into nightmares of pure want, your mind dangling something in front of you that you couldn’t have. It made things even worse when he would come into the Apothecary, flirting with you and flashing you a smile, showing off his broad shoulders in those fine tailored suit jackets and making your eyes flicker to his zipper in an utterly whorish way. 

Now, you felt spoiled to have it in front of you again - the perfect beastly eight inches, lean and tall just like he was, curved off slightly to the side, sticking off from a sparse patch of ginger hair. 

Your pussy clenched as you thought about having him inside of you again for the first time in so long, giving you that perfectly full feeling that your fingers never could - but you craved his taste first. You wanted him under your control - you knew part of it was driven by all the fear you had experienced that night, all the chaos that had made you feel so powerless. You needed to feel alive, needed to wield power over someone, something. 

You got your mouth on his cock with a downright feral hunger. 

Fred let out a deep moan and threw his head back, collapsing onto his elbows as the heat and wetness of your mouth enveloped the heat of his cock - it sent another wave of lust zipping through him, reminding him just how throbbing hard he was, just how much he needed you. This was made even worse when you moaned around him - you couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling of his cock in your mouth, perfectly full, making you choke in such a beautiful way when you dropped down to take more of him. 

“Fuck, darling, shite-” 

You quickly became drunk on the feeling. 

Your eyes fell closed and you simply let yourself enjoy it, loving the fullness of his big, beautiful cock filling up your mouth. With a hand loosely wrapped around the base of his cock, your jaw wide as you began bobbing your head. Your tongue flat against the base, tasting as much of him as you could while you enjoyed the feeling of him so fat and thick in your mouth, gagging you slightly whenever the round tip hit against the back of your throat. It was a perfect, slow rhythm that agonised him and delighted you, and soon had spit pooling around your knuckles. 

The wetness drove him even more insane, especially when it allowed for your soft lips to move slicker against his shaft. 

“Goddammit, please, please, oh-” 

You could feel his thighs begin to quake and quiver beside you, and you wondered if he was close already. 

You couldn’t resist the urge to pull off - wanting to tease him a little. Part of you wanted that bit of revenge, wanting to get him back for the pain he had caused you when he had turned his back on you that day. Though you weren’t entirely cruel, and you didn’t leave him hanging out to dry completely. 

You kept your hand pumping on his now spit-slicked cock (it was that slow, agonising rhythm that caused him to pant like a needy dog), and you moved your mouth downward, giving in to the personal urge to lick and suck on his heavy balls. You did want to drive him a bit more insane, and give into your personal curiosity about what the heavy sac would feel like against your tongue. 

“Fucking - oh - darling, what are you doing to me-? That fucking mouth-” 

Fred wasn’t sure if this was heaven or hell. 

It left him stuck in some sick purgatory where the woman he loved had turned into a sex-crazed vixen, but wouldn’t let him touch you everywhere he wanted to most. Instead, he was sentenced to stare at you as your gorgeous mouth teased his aching cock, making him harder, driving him madder with every stroke of your little devilish tongue. He couldn’t take it anymore - not when your pretty fingers gripped around the base of his cock just right and your lips suctioned so perfectly around one of his bullocks. 

He wouldn’t waste the night cumming over your fist without getting his hands on you properly first. 

He weaved his fingers into your hair and yanked you back, caused you to let out a small yelp - not one of pain, but a bitter sound of complaint as you were pulled off his cock too early for your liking. The sharp tingle of him pulling on your hair caused your tongue to lull out, trailing a filthy bit of spit back to his balls that had him growling. 

Before any words could form, he leaned down and used this grip on your hair to guide you to his lips, shoving his tongue into your open, waiting mouth - something that had you moaning once again, and easily following his lead as he guided you up to sit on his thigh. 

“Don’t expect that I’m gonna waste it all over your hand, darling.” He murmured against your lips between heated kisses. “When I cum tonight, it’s gonna be deep inside your sweet cunt, yeah?” 

You moaned loudly at this. 

You had devolved past the point of words now - having his cock so thick and heavy in your mouth only making you fuzzy-headed and more needy for him. You unconsciously canted your hips against his thigh, grinding your pussy against him through the fabric of your jeans, needing more. You panted against his cheek as he moved deft fingers to undo the button and zipper of your pants while he continued to speak. 

“I need you, pretty girl.” 

He growled lowly in your ear, the pure passion of the declaration causing such intense waves of lust through you that you would have collapsed - if not for the brick wall of his muscled body holding you up. (Hold you up for the dozenth time that night, only for a drastically different reason this time). 

“I need to see you cum on my cock. Missed this pretty cunt so much, can’t wait-” 

He trailed off in his crazed lustful ramblings when he shoved his fingers past the now open fly of your jeans and into your underwear, quickly finding a distinct wetness and landing on your clit with a firm touch like a magnet. 

“Freddie!” You wept into his neck, bucking into the touch as you tumbled into a madness of your own. 

He began circling quickly on your clit, enjoying your gasps and other sounds, enjoying the feeling of you bucking so wildly on his thigh. All too soon, he was overtaken by a little pinch of mischief that always crept up on him. The urge to get you back for your earlier teasing. He quickly removed his hand and felt a smirk spread across his lips at the deflated little whimper you made, your eyes snapping open just in time to catch him licking your wetness off his fingers. 

“Fred-” You began to protest, sharp demanding in your tone. 

“Come on, get these clothes off,” He said, giving you a firm pat on the ass that made you far too weak to his whims. 

“Freddie-” You whined this time - and rather than giving into you, he brought up a fantastic point. 

“The faster you get your clothes off, the faster I can get my cock in you.” He whispered hotly against your ear, making you shiver. 

You hated that he was right. 

You stood up, moving to strip your shirt off over your head, glaring at him the whole time while he also began to strip himself. 

“Go on, good girl.” 

You hated how those words made you even wetter. You hated how easily he manipulated you based on weaknesses he knew so well. 

“I hate you.” You mumbled quietly, absolutely no heat in the words as you reached to unclip your bra. 

“Oh darling, if only that were true.” 

He said pointedly, mourning peeking through that bit of mischief in his eyes. Something you didn’t have too much time to decode as stood to his full height to untangle his jeans from his legs, knowing that you would quake in his shadow and become even more turned on from this. 

Once you were both naked, he ushered you down onto the bed, making sure that you were comfortable with your head on the pillow as he captured your mouth in another needy kiss. You moaned against his lips, easily sucking his tongue in as you tangled your fingers into that fiery red hair and gave an appreciative tug. You then tucked your knee up over his hip, opening yourself up to him - this caused his heavy cock to brush against your wetness, making you gasp into his mouth as the two of you made contact for the first time in far too long. 

“Freddie-” You gasped, unconsciously bucking your hips up, causing your pussy to wetly slide against his cock in a way that forced a deep groan out of him. “Oh, fuck, oh-” 

“Shh, darling, Daddy’s got you,” Fred replied, palming across your forehead and your hair in an almost gentle way while he further parted your thighs with a firm knee. 

His words caused you to choke on another moan. 

You had heard Fred refer to himself as ‘Daddy’ before - but much like everything else in his life, it was always a joke. He would be buying his favourite sweets and mumble ‘come to Daddy’ before tearing open the package and devouring them. He would say that his codename was ‘Big Daddy’ when setting up a particularly epic prank. (George was ‘Big Red’ and you were usually ‘Darling’ or ‘Garden Flower’. They were not the most useful or top secret codenames.) You had heard him jokingly shout ‘Daddy’s home’ when returning to the Gryffindor common room, only to have the expected laughs and jokes in return. 

You had never expected that the name would turn you on so much. But you had never, ever expected to hear it in this context. You had also never expected that it would sound so natural in this context. But it suited him so well. It seemed to only compliment the gentle kind of caring he gave you - how protective he was over you, how safe he made you feel. 

“Daddy,” You moaned in return - Fred gripped your hip with a deadly, bruising grip and looked at you with a fierce heat in his eyes. 

Hearing that word from your lips turned him on in a way he couldn’t explain. And in that moment, it took every bit of his personal will not to slam his cock into you and hammer his hips forward until you said it again, and again, and again. Until you screamed it. 

He took a hold of his cock with the other hand, and you expected him to slide into you, finally giving you both what you truly needed - but instead, he began rubbing the round head of his cock against your clit, further teasing you. You let out a gasp and looked at him with pleading in your eyes. 

“Freddie,” You whined, attempting to angle your hips up, fruitlessly trying to trick him to slip his cock inside of you. You knew him too well, knowing that once he got the tip in, he wouldn’t be able to resist fucking you senseless. But he held you down with the hand on your hip, making you barely able to move at all against his muscular hold and the awkward angle he had you pinned with. 

“Come on, sweets,” He purred, laying a kiss on your forehead, and then your cheek, trailing kisses down your neck as he murmured against your skin. “Tell Daddy what you need. Say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.” 

He began roughly smacking his cockhead against your clit, making you jolt and gasp sharper, making your pussy leak furiously against the bed. You cried out and gripped his hair tightly, almost meanly, desperate for the teasing to end. You didn’t see the way he was staring at your cunt, mesmerised by the sight of your swollen pearl kissing against his cock, glistening, wet and needy. Something that he would burn into his brain forever and most definitely revisit on lonely nights. 

“Please, Daddy!” You moaned, hoping the name alone would goad him into giving in. But you knew what he truly wanted, and you couldn’t wait any longer. “Please - fuck - I need your cock. I need you to fuck me, I need-” 

Perhaps he was truly satisfied by this, or perhaps he couldn’t take the teasing anymore himself - either way, he finally guided his cock down to your pulsing entrance and pushed in, swearing hotly under his breath when the tight, wet, perfect heat of your cunt began sucking him in for the first time in over a year. 

“Oh, oh fuck, Freddie,” You moaned, tugging on his hair. “Oh-” 

“Fucking perfect,” He swore into your ear. “Dammit, I’ve missed this pussy so much.” He choked on a groan as he continued slowly inching his hips forward, splitting you open with his massive length, making your pussy ache and burn in the most perfect way. “Good girl. So good for me. So good for Daddy,” 

You both moaned loudly once he was fully seated inside of you - you, feeling that deep satisfaction of feeling so perfectly full once again, and Fred so deeply enjoying the wet warmth of your pussy around him that was so irreplaceable because it was you. 

Sensing your need, especially after all his teasing, and after spending so long without him - he didn’t make you wait any longer. 

Fred began rocking his hips into yours at a gentle, even pace, not wanting to hurt you. From the sound of your gentle whines and the feeling of you squirming beneath him, he could tell that you needed more. He could tell that now wasn’t the time for holding back. 

He let out a gentle grunt and you became even more heated and curious as he began shifting around, some clear intent on his mind. You let out a sharp gasp when he raised himself up on his knees, poising himself in the perfect position to fuck you hard, deep, and powerful. Then, he made it even more deadly when he grabbed you by the backs of your thighs, making more air hiss out through your lips when he pressed your body practically in half, pressing your knees up toward your chest before he hooked his arms under your legs to keep them there and planted his hands firmly on either side of your chest. 

The two of you were even closer, even more intimate, and you felt him so much deeper inside of you. 

“Freddie,” 

You croaked out darkly, already feeling him so much deeper as he settled in above you. Your pussy was leaking furiously around him now, clenching tightly and waiting for him to move as a ghost of dark mischief danced through his eyes that promised you were in for the sweetest kind of hell. 

“Good?” He asked, smirking at you. 

“Yes, but what about-?” 

You wanted to warn him not to make too much noise, not to break the bed, which was already creaking in protest underneath the two of you - but he didn’t entirely care. Fred never truly cared about the consequences of his actions once he got an idea in his head - to him, the thrill was more than worth whatever pain may befall him. 

The only time that hadn’t been true was when he had made the foolish, heat-of-the-moment mistake of breaking up with you. And now, he had to make up for it. 

He put all the power into his muscled thighs (the same muscled thighs that had saved you just a few hours ago by gripping onto his broom and steadying the flight) - and ploughed forward with intense power. This began an unforgiving, hard rhythm of pounding into your cunt in hard, deep, fast strokes. 

In seconds, you were putty beneath him - he had you perfectly pinned in place so that you couldn’t have moved an inch if you wanted to, all you could do was lay there and take it. You were weak against the savage movements of his long cock fucking into your swollen pussy over and over again, filling you up in the best way you could have imagined, becoming everything you needed in the world. 

As the room filled with the harsh, wet slaps of his skin against yours and your weak moans, followed by his increasingly animalistic grunts - all there was in the world was you and Fred, the space where the two of you met, the place where he had your thighs pinned open so that his cock could absolutely ruin your pussy.  

“Good girl, such a good girl for me,” He growled against your lips - you moaned pathetically in return, flooding even more wetness around his cock, making the sound of him fucking into you embarrassingly slicker. “Never should have let you go. Should have kept you right here, right where you belong,” 

You wanted to tell him that perhaps the fight was both of your faults, that you should have reached out to him sooner and told him that you wanted him back. That the time apart had been so dreadfully tender for you too. 

But your brain was soup, only further stirred up by the tip of his cock poking around in your guts. So any words you could have said chased out of your lungs with every passionate thrust of his hips up into your wet pussy, and all you managed in return was: 

“Daddy! Fuck, oh-!” 

“Shh, darling, I know.” Fred mumbled into your neck, taking a sloppy, greedy lick of your skin. “I know, sweets. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. Gonna keep you fucked n’ full. Never gonna let you go again. Never gonna let anyone else touch you-” 

Fred’s hips stuttered and you tightly squeezed around his cock at the words. 

Perhaps it was a wink of his personal insecurity peeking through. The horrifying idea that because he had broken up with you, you might find somebody else. When in fact, you had been so caught up on him, only thinking about him, waiting for him. (The whole time, thinking that he had broken up with you because he no longer had any favour in his heart for you.) 

“Just you, Freddie.” You breathed out, desperately trying to get air past your now very chapped lips. “Always yours-” 

“Yes, mine.” He replied, that crazed desperation returning to his voice. “Mine, my girl.” 

He sealed his lips against yours, grinding his hips tightly against your pelvis rather than fucking you with any kind of rhythm now - showing you just how deep he was inside of you, just how much he owned you, truly, from the inside out. It was something that made your stomach clench, made your body buzz with electricity, and made you whine around his tongue. 

You were close. 

Fred knew this - he knew you too well. He moved a hand down to your clit, letting one of your legs drop slightly, and had two determined fingers on your throbbing clit while he picked up the pace again, pulling his lips back from yours. 

“You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum for Daddy like a good girl?” 

His words, his velvet voice speaking to you so commanding yet so sweet, were what truly brought your orgasm to life in your belly. His voice made the fullness of his cock and the sharpness of his fingers on your clit all the more electric. You likely could have cum just from his words alone if he kept speaking to you that way. 

“Yes, Daddy.” You moaned in response. 

“Good girl. Come on,” 

He breathed hotly against your chin, his eyes now eagerly dancing from your face to the space where your cunt hugged his dick, leaking around him in such a wonderfully filthy way. Clearly, he wasn’t sure where he wanted to look, what part of the show he was more eager to witness after missing out on you for too long. 

“Come on, cum on my cock. Cum for me, love, good girl-” 

His heated words trailed off as your head snapped back and your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers digging sharply into his bicep as your orgasm rocked your body. Fred grunted as he continued to fuck you through it, his eyes glued to you, taking in every single inch of the sexy beauty that was you, the love of his life, as you thrashed and moaned and came on his cock. It was the most perfect sight he could have imagined, and he easily ingrained into his mind forever, praying that he would never have to miss out on it - to miss out on you - ever again. 

“Yes, yes darling, so good for me, so good-” He practically choked on his own words, his voice so thick with lust that it barbed the insides of his throat. 

As he felt the last weak spasms of your pussy around his cock, he stopped rubbing your sore clit and became possessed with a new need, becoming slightly selfish now. He fucked his hips forward even harder, determined to find his own pleasure inside the sweet, soft walls of your cunt. 

“Fucking hell-” He choked out a groan, dropping his head into your neck again as you petted through his hair, encouraging him through it while he unintentionally sent sharp zaps of overstimulation through your pussy with every needy, sharp push of his hips. 

“Freddie,” You breathed out. “Come on, Daddy, cum for me. You’ve been so good to me, come on-” 

He let you another loud growl and pounded into you harder, dropping his hold on your other knee and letting your legs rest to cradle around his waist as he blindly chased his own end inside your soft, wet cunt. 

“Gonna fill you up, gonna fill you up so good,” He whispered into your neck, chanting like a man possessed, sending another unexpected wave of heat through you that made you moan weakly. “All mine, all mine, darling, all mine, gonna give you what you need, fuck-” 

He tried to silence his moans into your neck as he stiffened his back and finally came - his own orgasm hitting him like a firework. He shoved his hips forward stiffly one last time, seating his cock deeply inside of you, stuffing you full, just like he had promised. He gentled grinded his hips against yours in mindless, stuttering strokes while he pumped spurts of hot cum deep inside of you - something that made your body buzz with even more heat and made you moan in return, clutching onto him tightly with your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. 

“Oh darling, oh-” He muttered quietly against your neck as the last waves of his orgasm washed over him. 

It was so perfect, and made you feel so utterly connected to him. It was a distinct reminder of everything you had missed - his warmth, his caring, the thrill he gave you while at the same time making you feel so damn safe. 

When Fred moved to pull away from you, moving to break that connection, every instinct in your body screamed that it was wrong. You clenched your legs around him, digging a heel into his lower back to keep him close, and he let out a grunt - still dizzy from his orgasm and unsure what you were doing. But he settled back into place, creating a filthy ‘squish’ between the two of you. 

“Just hold me.” You said, having no clue when the tears had returned to your eyes, making your voice so clearly wet. “I missed you. I can’t lose you.” 

“Hey, hey shh.” He said, leaning up to kiss along your cheek, rushing to kiss away those tears. “I’m right here with you, darling. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me.” 

He wrapped his arms around you, wiggling his grip between your back and the mattress to do so. This created the most stunning cocoon, forcing your two bodies even closer together - it wasn’t long before he became soft inside of you, but he stayed there for as long as he reasonably could, kissing along your forehead, your cheeks, your neck, uttering quiet reassurances that you weren’t going to lose him, that you wouldn’t have to miss him any longer. 

It made you incredibly content and warm. At least while it lasted. 

When Fred finally pulled out of you, you felt a deep sense of dissatisfaction and loneliness, which you tried to ignore. Especially because you weren’t sure if he would want you to sleep in his bed - which was something that you wanted very much, especially after the long day you had. But you weren’t sure if he wanted to be left alone to contemplate all of it, to be sure of his decision to take you back. 

You jumped to get out of the bed as though it were on fire, and when you looked to your rumpled clothes on the floor - your jeans still stained with dirt from when you had collapsed in the garden, your shirt likely reeking of sweat from the nerves of everything that had happened - the idea of putting those clothes back on wasn’t exactly appealing. 

Then, something else came to mind. 

“My things are in Ginny’s room…” 

You sighed, realising that if you wanted a pair of pyjamas for the night, or even a fresh pair of underwear, then you would have to waltz in and wake her up - and likely be interrogated about where you had been. She was all too knowing anyway, and any excuses you gave about spending the time caring for George or simply having a ‘talk’ with Fred would be seen right through by her. 

Fred hummed, and stood, and you were surprised when he comfortably went over to the chest of drawers against the wall at the end of his bed, going right to the top drawer. The drawer where you used to keep some of your things when you stayed with the Weasleys on holidays - and surely enough, a small collection of your things were still in there. 

Things that he had never returned to you after the break-up that you had never thought to ask for. You had no idea that he often came to this drawer, sneaking mournful whiffs of your scent - even used your shirts as a pillow case if he was feeling particularly lonely. 

He pulled out a pair of your comfortable sleep shorts and a large, soft, worn green tee shirt with a large shamrock on the front and a ‘94 on the back that he had bought for you as a souvenir from The World Cup. It had been your all time favourite sleep shirt, and you had wondered where it had disappeared to when you moved into your apartment above the Apothecary once you started the job. 

“I hope these still fit.” He said, handing you the clothes. 

“They should.” You said - quiet, careful not to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The fact that he had kept your things all this time. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have any panties for you, so…” He trailed off, a filthy grin plucking up over his cheeks once again when the implication hit the air - the fact that you would be commando underneath your clothing. 

“Yeah, very unfortunate in your eyes, I’m sure, Fred.” You huffed, turning toward the door. “I should go get cleaned up.” 

You let out a small squeak when two strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you sharply back, causing you to collide with the wonderful, bare, muscled, now slightly sweaty body. You couldn’t help but to melt into the touch, and you let out a quiet moan as he began kissing your neck - not in a particularly lustful way, but in a way that was purely loving and affectionate. 

“Don’t think you’re getting away from me that easy, darling.” He whispered in your ear. “Please, do come back afterwards. You know I like to cuddle,” 

You didn’t think that you had ever heard Fred Weasley say ‘please’ for anything so plainly in his life. But, as usual when it came to him, you wanted exactly what he wanted. 

“Only if you insist.” You joked lightly, smoothing a hand over his arm that was still tightly encircled around your middle. “I suppose I can clear some time in my very busy schedule for cuddling,” 

Fred quietly let out a ‘yes’ in celebration, and hesitantly let you go. He then collapsed back onto the bed, relaxing spread eagle, still confidently naked against the covers with his hands behind his head against the pillow. You couldn’t help it when your eyes did a once-over of his body, admiring the soft planes of his muscles that had come from hard work rather than a distinct workout routine and the beautiful bit of fat on his lower belly that made him so warm and nice to cuddle. Of course, when your eyes met his, he was smirking at you. 

“I’ll be waiting, love.” He told you with a wink. 

You rolled your eyes at this, biting your lip to suppress a smile at his somewhat deserved cockiness. 

You moved to leave the room with your newly acquired clothes, wanting to freshen up in the bathroom a bit before going to sleep (the bathroom was right across the hall, so you would have to sneak across the way naked and hope that nobody would catch you, but it should be fine at this time of night). But when your hand twisted the knob and it didn’t budge, you remembered that Fred had locked it earlier. 

He moved to grab his wand from the pocket of his pants, splayed out in the middle of the floor, but you reached for the jeans first. Your wand was still downstairs beside the cauldron that had brewed the potions for George, but often, you found that Fred’s wand worked fine for you. 

Ollivander and other wand experts said that a wizard couldn’t find the same kind of success using a wand that wasn’t their own, but you found using Fred’s to be just as natural, like an extension of your own arm. Perhaps it was because his core was a Dragon Heart’s String, and that heart beat for you just as fondly as his own did. Either way, it was a fine substitution. You unlocked the door easily and tossed the wand back to him where he was sitting on the bed, and then you snuck across the hall to clean up and get dressed. 

When you came back, Fred had crawled under the covers and was starting to fall asleep. When you crawled in alongside him, you found that he hadn’t bothered to get dressed, so you locked the door again, just in case. It was a basic charm that anybody could get through, but it would give the two of you a few minutes of warning to make yourselves decent if somebody did come knocking. 

It felt like the most wonderfully natural thing in the world to settle beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist while he slept on his back, putting your head on his chest and feeling his sleepy fingers brush across your head from behind. 

“Goodnight, love.” He whispered, so quiet as though he was afraid to break apart a beautiful daydream. 

“Goodnight, Freddie.” 

… 

You wondered if all of it had been a dream. 

Fred apologising to you, begging for your forgiveness, the two of you having amazing sex - it was something you had dreamt about many times before. It was something you had wished would come true, only to find yourself waking up alone in a cold bed. So waking up next to Fred, with his large, warm body coiled up against your back like a koala was one of the best ways you could have come into a new day. 

It wasn’t long before the smell of Molly’s cooking reached your nose - the wonderful fatty sizzle of sausages and the bready warmth of toast that told you she was frying up a full English (likely because she had been having trouble sleeping after the events of the night before). Your stomach gave a painful pang, making you want to get out of bed to eat just as much as you wanted to stay cuddled up with Fred. 

You gently petted a touch along Fred’s heavy arm that was wrapped possessively around your waist, and soon, he sucked in a sharp breath as he too began to stir. 

“Merlin, I missed this.” He said, leaning in to smother you with more of his perfect warmth as he somehow crowded tighter against your back, kissing along your clothed shoulder and up your neck once again. 

Your heart fluttered with the sweetness, the fondness of it all, and you wondered how such a hellish night had made way to such a perfect morning. 

“I wish we could stay in bed forever, Freddie, but I think your Mum is making breakfast.” You remarked, finding yourself more aware of your hunger as you woke up more, and more drawn to the delicious smells. 

“We can stay here for a bit longer.” He hummed into your neck. 

Just then - his stomach let out a loud groan of protest, and you giggled. 

“Come on, Big Daddy needs to eat too.” You said, using the nickname in a more playful, joking manner as you patted his thigh, untangling yourself from his arms as you got out of bed. 

You were surprised, and slightly victorious when you saw a slight blush tinging his pale cheeks because of the teasing, the way you had used the nickname. It was amazing to see someone like Fred go from so powerful and confident to fluttering with shyness. 

“I have to find some trousers,” He remarked, suddenly remembering that he was naked. 

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” You grinned, walking across to the bathroom, lucky to beat anybody else there before the others started waking up. 

When you hit the bottom stair, Fred was standing at the back of the couch with his back to you, now fully dressed in a pair of comfortable plaid sleep pants and an old Chudley Cannons shirt that must have belonged to Ron. (It was only because of many winding discussions about Quidditch among the boys that you hadn’t even wanted to hear that you knew the Cannons were Ron’s team and the twins hated them.) 

Fred was leaning over, clearly talking to George, who was still laying where the two of you had left him the night before. You hated that your instinct was to stand back where neither of them had seen you and listen in on their conversation - but you had only learned such matters from Mr. and Mr. Extentenable Ear themselves. 

“...well, yes, I would say that it did go well, but I would still have to classify the nature of the relationship as dubious. Or friendly at best.” Fred said in a rushed whisper. 

Your stomach gave a twist. This time you had to assume that the twins were talking about you. Talking about what had happened between the two of you the night before. 

“Dubious?” George’s voice baulked, clearly trying to stay hushed himself, but having a hard time restraining his volume due to frustration - frustration at not being able to get a better answer out of his brother. “The two of you had sex and you’re classifying the nature of the relationship as dubious? Are you an idiot or was the sex that horrible?” 

You choked down a laugh at this, not wanting to be caught just yet, and resisting the urge to speak up and clarify that the sex was, in fact, great. 

“No, she seemed perfectly satisfied, thank you very much.” Fred hissed back, full of sass. You would have said more than ‘satisfied’ - for once, Fred was actually being humble. “But I just didn’t think to stop and ask: oh, by the way, does this mean that we’re back together and you still love me? Or were just scared and lonely after almost dying and wanted a decent lay? Can you fill out a post-orgasm survey to clarify, please, and make sure to-” 

An arm came up from the couch with a pillow, smacking Fred clear in the chest - hard enough to force a small grunt out of him. George was certainly feeling better. You were glad to know that your potions had done him some good. 

“You should have just asked, you numpty!” George scolded him. “You’ve been mooning over losing her for-” 

“Y/N,” Fred cut off his twin’s words by saying your name, announcing your presence as that smack with the pillow had caused him to finally turn his head and spot you there. 

“Fred.” You grinned, not at all ashamed that you had been caught. 

You walked over to the couch, leaning over to find George grinning at you in a way that said he was holding back a barrage of stomach shaking laughter because of the conversation you had caught the two of them in. 

“For the record, I would call the sex more than satisfactory.” You said, a mischievous grin coming over your lips. “And I do still love you.” You announced, turning toward Fred. “I was lonely and scared last night, but that’s why I came to you. You’re the only person I want to go to when I feel that way. I missed you. And I want you back if you’ll have me.” 

“Merlin, of course I’ll have you.” Fred breathed out a sigh of relief, now grinning as well. “I love you more than anything, darling. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” 

“I have some idea, and it was bloody annoying.” George muttered out, only to be ignored. 

You leaned in for a kiss, naturally, but just as Fred’s lips brushed yours, George let out a loud, fake gagging sound - one that had Molly running into the room, clearly fretting and worried that George was actually ill. 

“I’m fine, Mum.” George groaned as Molly began patting down his head with a wet cloth - clearly, his night had been filled by the annoying, but loving fuss of his mother watching over him. 

“Yes, yes of course.” Molly nodded, hesitantly putting the cloth down. “It’s time for breakfast anyway - do you feel up for sitting at the table, dear?” 

“I would love to get off this bloody couch.” George groaned. 

Fred rushed around to help him up, and after a moment of struggle to his feet, you grabbed his other arm to help him along into the kitchen. 

“I suppose it all worked out for the better.” George said, smiling at you. “Even if you did end up with the less attractive twin.” 

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile at this.

...

A/N: This fic is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. This is a capsule story meant to be read independently, and in terms of the narrative, there will not be a continuation. If you are going to leave a comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written here, do not comment asking for more. If you would like to read more of my fics, please take a look at my Harry Potter Masterlist, more specifically, my other Fred Weasley fic - Kisses Like Fire Whiskey. Thank you if you have gotten this far, and happy reading!