#the ducks should be staying too

[msburgundy]

3/4 of the expected surgery cost in a single afternoon, what the hell man lol

i will never feel normal ever again, words truly cannot express

[giantroboticplatypusbutt218]

I saw an incorrect quote a while ago and it gave me an idea and I felt strongly compelled to draw it.

Anyway here's Duck being Duck, featuring a tarot card reader you may recognize from somewhere else...

[fifteenpoundsofpissedoffbees]

ughhh i wanna do something but it just feels like i cant do any of the stuff i could do

[sqoa]

toji zenin, who has only stayed with the zenin clan because he just can’t give up the sweet pussy of his personal servant—you.

because you don’t adhere to the strict rules given to the servants. and you can’t bring yourself to care about them either.

because why should you wake toji up by parting his window shutters and letting the sun stir him awake, when you could rouse him from sleep with your lips wrapped around his cock instead? you’re sure he prefers waking to the warmth of your throat, delicate eyes looking up at him through your lashes as you take his length to the base.

his hand, even in his half-asleep state, reaching down to push you even further on his cock until he can feel the back of your throat and your nose is tickled by his dark pubes. because there’s no better alarm sound than that of you gagging on his cock as you swallow the load he gifts you.

and how could he bring himself to leave when he has you at his beck and call at all times? all he has to do is shoot you a look from across the room and you’re ducking out to meet him in a quiet corridor or empty room so he can hike up your robes and drop to his knees to return the mornings favour. sure, he’s a selfish man, but he’s greedy and indulgent when it comes to tasting you.

you always try to be quiet when cumming on his tongue but you never succeed, and toji loves it. he loves knowing the assholes in his clan hear it every time he sinks into you, because you’re moaning his name so pretty that any lesser man would cum as soon as you tighten around his pulsing cock. he loves knowing every time you serve him in their presence they’re only imagining the way you serve him with your cunt behind closed doors.

god, he doesn’t even care to close the door half the time. too many times has a clan elder walked in to see you, pressed up against the wall as toji fucks you from behind with fast strokes and drawling groans. and he never stops, never slows down or even bothers to care about an unwelcome audience—because you never care. you serve him, not them, and if worrying about prying eyes takes from your duties—you’d rather take his affections in stride.

because you are his in every aspect of the word. you serve him hand and foot, you take his cock into your mouth each morning, you let him fuck you full of his cum each evening, you turn his scowl into a gentle smile with each kiss you lay upon his lips. your heart is his, and his yours.

and one morning before the sun has risen to find toji in the servants chambers, his lips patched around your clit and two fingers already pumping into you. he plays the servant, and wakes you for once. you cum not once, but twice around his fingers, back arching as pleasure washes you clean. and as he pulls away with a glistening lower half of his face and presses the most gentle kiss to your inner thigh, he whispers something that changes the course of your life entirely.

“let’s get the fuck outta here, whaddya’ think, dollface?”

[plutotheplum]

Red Tape

mma fighter!sylus x manager!reader

summary: the man you're in charge of is somewhat of a handful (...and a mouthful).

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, modern au, smut, vaginal fingering, kissing, dirty talk, oral sex - m! and f!receiving, praise kink, p in v, masturbation, size difference, size kink, mild choking

wc: 8.8k

a/n: pulled his grasslands card and nghhh he's so fine and big. lowkey think i wrote too much. hope you guys like it! <3

also on ao3!

The sounds of limbs colliding and loud grunts of exertion fill the air as you step inside the training gym.

You let your eyes scan the expanse of it, eyes narrowing to try and find the white-haired man you’re in charge of. You eventually spot him, red tape wrapped around his hands as he works with his trainer, throwing punches of varying strength against the boxing pads.

Heels clacking against the floor, you approach Sylus, standing off to the side as you watch him train. His moves are calculated and sharp, never allowing for any stray hits to pass through. It’s how Sylus has managed to stay at the top of the rankings for the past few years. He had risen quickly, his strength and technique acknowledged by those around him, supporters and rivals alike. 

You’d been his manager for a total of two years. It’d been outlined in a fortunate job posting that you’d deemed interesting enough to apply for. Back then you had wondered whether he’d be difficult, but Sylus was annoying at most and actually acknowledged your judgement. 

“How am I looking?” Sylus calls out to you, stepping away from his trainer and grabbing a bottle of cold water to press against his neck.

“Good,” you reply, watching as he steps out from under the ropes of the boxing ring, his tall frame approaching yours.

“Just good?” he asks, peering down at you.

You roll your eyes, reaching for his hand to undo the tape that covers his fingers. “Fine. Better than good. We both know you’re at the top of your form these days.”

Sylus hums in agreement, his fingers flexing once you unwrap the tape. You do the same for his other hand, gathering the discarded tape and rolling it up into a ball. He drinks down the bottle of cold water, throat bobbing as he does so.

“Who am I up against tonight?” Sylus asks, slumping down into a nearby chair.

His muscles are taut from training, a sheen of sweat covering his body. You can’t look away when he pulls his tank top over his head, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he reaches for a towel to sling around the back of his neck and wipe his face dry.

“First few matches should be fine,” you tell him, drawing your eyes away from his sculpted body to look down at your phone, “final match might be a little hard. Xavier.”

Sylus sighs, running his hand through his damp hair as he glances at you. “He’s fast.” 

“Not as fast as you,” you say, shaking your head.

He grins, leaning towards you. “It’s sweet my manager has such faith in me,” he drawls.

You shoot him an unimpressed look, pushing his head back when he gets a little too close for comfort, his crimson eyes boring into yours intently. 

“I’m more concerned about my paycheck.”

“I make you twice as much money than you would at a shitty desk job,” Sylus replies, thighs  spreading as he gets comfortable.

“Try making it triple,” you grin back at him, tossing him another bottle of water as you stand up. 

Sylus catches it effortlessly, pressing it against his forehead this time. He slouches a little more and you dig through his bag beside you, handing him a protein bar. You let your gaze drift as he rests, watching as the other men train in the gym. 

Some throw punches, others duck to avoid getting hit. You were well aware of the fact that Sylus had his own personal boxing ring, and yet he preferred to train here, in front of other men. An intimidation tactic or simply personal preference, you didn’t know. All in all, you were grateful that Sylus’ performance was consistent. You hardly had to involve yourself, a new rush of sponsorships flooding your email in the days following his matches. 

“Remember to rest,” you say to him when he stands up and rolls his shoulders, his muscles rippling.

“I’m a professional,” Sylus replies dryly, his hand landing on your head heavily as he grants you a few pats.

You scoff, swatting his hand away, trying to smooth down the strands of your hair. The view of his bare, broad back is appreciated however, your greedy eyes following the boxer as he slips past the ropes of the boxing ring again. It doesn't exactly fall under the job description to ogle the man you’re in charge of, but Sylus is unfairly handsome, and innocent glances never hurt anyone.

-

The thrum of the arena is electrifying. 

You can feel the beat of the music match the pulse of your heart as you stand outside Sylus' locker room, checking your phone every now and then. The door swings open after a few moments and you step inside, finding Sylus sitting on the steel bench. 

His legs bounce, his hands clasped together, head hanging low. All boxers had their own ritual, and you weren’t about to interrupt his. Instead, you strike up a quiet conversation with his trainer, waiting for Sylus to finish up.

Sylus waves you over after a few moments and you’re already undoing the red tape from its roll, winding it around his fingers so that it sticks properly. He flexes his fingers experimentally, giving you a nod and you move to his other hand, fingers brushing against his.

“Take it easy out there,” you murmur, lifting his hand to smooth out the creases in the tape.

“I always take it easy,” Sylus says, sending you a devilish grin.

It’s not exactly true. Sylus likes to show off, you think he might like the thrill of it. Carefully placed embellished hits do make for great television after all. 

“Besides,” he continues, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs to pull you between his legs, “I have my lucky charm with me.”

You let out an awkward laugh, squirming out of his grasp although he seems reluctant to let go. His trainer seems to catch the little interaction between you, and you clear your throat, taking another step back.

“Manager. I’m your manager .”

“You can be both,” he retorts, standing up.

Sylus bounces on the balls of his feet for a few moments, his shoulders rolling and head tilting to get rid of any cricks in his neck. He pulls the hood of his jacket over his head, snowy hair disappearing, his face darkening. An announcement blares through the locker room and he’s moving out, with you and the rest of his team trailing after him.

You’ve lost count of how many matches of his you’ve attended, but somehow the nerves don’t ease, the knot of uncertainty tightening in your stomach. He’s more than capable of handling the blows hurled at him but there’s a part of you that can’t help but worry about an opponent playing dirty and landing a blow that he can’t recover from.

He excels through the first stages as expected. Most of his opponents for the first few rounds are amateurs at most, making clumsy mistakes that end up giving Sylus an opening to finish them off. 

Xavier is more of a challenge. He’s quick on his feet, easily sidestepping and making short, sharp jabs that have Sylus keeping his distance. You wince when Xavier lands a blow to Sylus’ face, hard enough to make his lip split. Blood runs down his chin, but Sylus is catching the rivulets of blood with his tongue and finding your eyes through the sea of faces, his grin cocky albeit bloody. 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. His eyes glint at the challenge, your warning to “take it easy” all but forgotten as he lands a heavy punch to Xavier’s abdomen. Xavier stumbles back, doubling over in pain but he straightens out just as quickly.

A few more punches are thrown, but Sylus wins the first round, thankfully. He’s waving you over during the rest period, crouching down. 

You lean forward, letting him whisper into your ear, the sheer loudness of the crowd making it difficult to hear him.

“Need you to fix my tape.”

You nod, pulling off his boxing gloves and undoing the tape around his fingers to wrap it a bit tighter.

“Better?” you ask, peering up at him.

Sylus nods, and you motion for him to bend his head a little more. You press a damp towelette against his split lip. He hisses at the feeling, jaw clenching.

“He’s weak on his left-side,” you murmur, wiping away the blood that’s dripped down his chin.

“You’re not one to give me tips,” he says.

“Seems like you need it,” you whisper, “you’re performing poorly, Sylus.” 

That seems to set him off a little, his brows furrowing for a moment before he schools his features back into something more neutral. He reaches out for you, his large hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes widen, trying to take a step back but it’s too late, your flushed face is being broadcast on the large screens.

The crowd seems just as surprised as you are, the raucous chatter quietening for a moment as they watch. 

His lips brush over your ear as he speaks, his breath warm and heavy. “I’ll make you triple.”

Sylus lets go of you, and you shoot a wane smile to the camera that’s been trained on you both. It’s convincing enough for the crowd to lose attention as the second round starts.

As the match drags on, it becomes evident as to what Sylus is doing. He’s toying with his opponent, letting Xavier think he has the upper hand when really it’s Sylus that’s controlling the pace. Sylus lets Xavier get one last hit in before he’s retaliating, hard and fast, his opponent’s body crumpling to the floor. When Xavier fails to rise, cheers erupt, Sylus’ name being chanted throughout the arena, crazed fans jumping up and down as the referee holds his arm up.

There’s sweat dripping from Sylus’ brow when you find him back in the locker room. The reporters had loved his post-fight interview, his smug grin supersized on the large screens in the arena. A medic kneels beside him, examining his body carefully to eliminate the possibility of any injuries worsening.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sylus smiles, his head tipped back, resting against the tiled wall. “I won, didn’t I?”

Frustration pricks at your skin and your eyes narrow, feeling tempted to slap the stupid smile right off of his face.

“Don’t be like that,” Sylus coos, brushing off the medic attending to him without a second glance and reaching for you. “You wanted triple, I made you triple.”

“I- I wasn’t being serious !” you hiss, trying to tug your wrist free.

Sylus’ grip only tightens, tugging you down so that your face nears his. You swallow harshly, his scarlet eyes somehow brighter under the light.

“You said I was performing poorly,” he murmurs, “I did what you wanted.” His fingers unfurl, stroking the inside of your wrist. The hint of a smirk plays on the side of his mouth when he sees how rigid you’ve become. “Besides,” his voice lowers a bit more so as to stop others from hearing, “you liked it when I smiled at you.”

His fingers smooth over your skin a few more times, dragging down to spread across the expanse of your palm. Sylus can spot the haze that glosses over your eyes, the way you extend your arm towards him slightly, chasing more of his touch. 

You think you could’ve stayed like that forever if not for his physical therapist that’s bundled inside the locker room, pushing you aside. His fingers fall away from yours and you snatch your hand back, tucking it behind your back. Sylus looks like he wants to say something, but you’re turning on your heel to escape the oppressive atmosphere, feeling as though you’ve been smothered. 

The cool night air is welcome when you burst through the doors of the arena, chest rising as you take in a deep lungful to calm the storm of emotions swirling in your mind. It’s a strictly professional relationship, you remind yourself, muttering under your breath and nodding along to your rampant thoughts to soothe yourself.

“Professional,” you whisper, staring at your hand as though it were a traitor, “I am a professional .”

Your fingers tingle in response, the phantom sensation of his fingers spreading out across your wrist. A sharp scoff leaves you, wiping your hand against your skirt. Unfortunately, your mind is all over the place and remembering Sylus’ bloody grin is enough to send a rush of heat through your body. 

The sound of someone’s shoes shuffling in the distance has your ears perking up, but you don’t pay it any mind, too frustrated with yourself. Sylus is irritating, but it doesn’t stop your heart from racing whenever you think about him. You’d never meant for the stupid, little crush to flourish into something bigger, but ever since he’d asked you to stick around, things had gotten complicated.

Truth is, Sylus hadn’t lost a single match ever since you’d begun to wrap his hands for him. It’s why he has you wrap them now, every match without fail. You didn’t exactly believe in this superstition of his, but he was adamant, refusing to fight unless it was you that was winding the red tape around his fingers. 

The scuffling noise grows louder and your brows furrow, trying to spot where it’s coming from.

“Ya lookin’ really pretty, miss,” a raspy voice sounds, an unfamiliar man stepping out of the dark.

The stench of tobacco is strong and you’re taking a step back, sending him an uneasy smile. He smiles back, yellowed teeth becoming visible, and you fight a grimace, trying to stop your lip from curling up in disgust. You spy the automatic doors from the corner of your eye, but the man reaches for you before you can make it to safety, holding onto you tight.

“Let me go!” you say, sounding panicked.

He only grunts, trying to pull you towards him. You pull back, gritting your teeth when his fingers dig into you.

“Ease up, pretty,” the man leers.

If anything, this whole situation was Sylus’ fault. You’re angry at yourself, at Sylus, and now at this disgusting man who was trying to take advantage of you.

“You’re pathetic,” your voice is a harsh hiss, fear giving way to resentment. 

“Now, that is not very nice,” he replies, “why don’t you smile for me? A real one this time.”

Your eye twitches at the sheer audacity of his words, teeth gritting together. You’ve never punched anyone before, but tonight might be a good time to start. 

“Fuck you.” 

Before your fist can land, there’s a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back gently. You don’t have to look to know who it is. Sylus’ arm shoots out instead, punching the man in the face. He staggers back, tripping over his own feet and landing on the floor with a heap. Blood wets his hand and he groans, clutching his nose. You hope it’s broken. 

“You okay?” Sylus murmurs, stepping in front of you and blocking the man from sight.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, frowning. “I was handling it.”

“I’m sure you were,” he says lightly, gaze dipping over you.

The man makes a noise of disgruntlement, a security guard hauling the man up onto his feet. You try to poke your head out from Sylus’ side, but he doesn’t let you, holding your wrist to distract you. He smooths his fingers over where the man had been gripping you, his touch firm and insistent, soothing the reddened imprints on your skin.

“Let me take you home,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers brushing against yours gently.

“I can take care of myself,” you retort.

Sylus doesn’t let you escape this time, tucking your hair behind your ear before he’s guiding you towards his bike. 

“Wait! Were you even cleared?”

“I’m not injured,” Sylus says, shoving a helmet down over your head. 

“But- but my car!” you protest.

“I’ll have Luke and Kieran take care of it.”

The mention of the twins makes it more likely for something to go wrong. There’s a good chance they’ll end up totalling your car, or losing your belongings. You don’t even know why Sylus took them on, but they had succeeded in becoming unofficial trainees under Sylus’ guidance. 

You shake your head stubbornly, pushing the helmet up. Sylus doesn’t let you, his hand shoving it back down before he’s picking you up and setting you down on his bike.

“I’m your manager!” you grouse in a last ditch effort.

“I’m well aware,” Sylus replies, swinging his leg over his bike.

You squeal when he takes off, arms wrapping around his middle tightly, eyes squeezing shut as the wind whips around you. He knows where your apartment is, having visited a few times when you’d asked him to stop by to sign some pressing paperwork.

His bike slows to a soft purr as it stops by the curb outside your apartment complex. His bike is annoyingly difficult to dismount and you grunt, struggling. You manage to land, although on shaky feet, your knees buckling for a moment. Sylus laughs, catching you by the waist before you hit the floor. The heat of his body has your breath hitching, your hands resting on his broad shoulders for stability.

“You’re too clumsy,” he murmurs, squeezing your sides gently, “take it easy.”

“Really?” you roll your eyes when he uses your own words against you.

“Really.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, voice softening.

All you can do is nod, heart fluttering at the gentle look in his eyes. He stares at you for a moment longer, trying to determine whether you’re lying. When you don’t say anything, he pulls you closer, his hands rubbing up and down your waist soothingly.

“I didn’t mean it,” you mumble out, feeling shy, “you- you were great tonight.”

“Yeah?”

You hum in response, giving him another nod. Sylus’ hands drift lower, past the line of professionalism. He stares down at you, his head tilting. Your lungs seem to have lost their ability to function at full capacity, quick, uneven breaths leaving you as your hands tighten into his jacket. 

“What are you doing?” you whisper, voice barely audible when the tip of his nose brushes yours.

“Determining your wellbeing,” Sylus says smoothly. 

“I’m fine, seriously.”

“Your cheeks are flushed and your chest is heaving” he whispers. Sylus’ hand has begun to wander, tracing down your neck, pushing apart the collar of your blouse to trail lower, his eyes drinking in your cleavage hungrily. He lets out a low laugh when you twitch in his arms. “You seem... unwell .”

“I’m fine !” you push away from his chest, patting your hot cheeks to try and cool them.

He raises his brows silently, but follows you into your apartment complex all the same, despite your protests. Something about ensuring your safety. Thankfully, he keeps his distance when he steps into the elevator with you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. 

The air is tense and you sneak a glance up at him to find him staring back at you. Your gaze snaps back, embarrassment rushing through your body, wishing the floor would just do you a favor and swallow you up.

Sylus doesn’t come in when you open the door, watching as you kick off your heels and rub at your sore ankles. He just stares , leaning against the doorframe. 

“Thank you,” you say, breaking through the awkwardness of the air, “for bringing me home and- and taking care of that guy, but I definitely had it handled.”

He gives you a lazy smile, his head dropping to rest against the doorframe as well. 

“You're welcome.”

“Okay, well, you- you can go now,” you say, gesturing with your hands and pushing at his chest to get him to leave.

Sylus doesn’t budge, his lips pursing as he stares down at you. The height difference is all the more noticeable since you’ve taken off your heels. His hand reaches out, landing on your waist.

“Come see me.”

“ What ?”

“Come see me,” Sylus repeats, “I’ll teach you how to punch.”

“I- I don’t need to learn how to punch,” you sputter, shaking your head vehemently. 

“If you had punched that man, you would’ve broken your thumb,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up your neck to cup your cheek. “You need me.”

You can’t help your eyes from fluttering shut, leaning into the warmth of his palm. Sylus lets you, his thumb running over your cheek gently. You find that he’s gotten closer when you open your eyes, his lips parted. Rising up on the tips of your toes, you let your nose nudge his, wanting him to kiss you, consequences be damned.

Sylus smiles, a soft laugh leaving him when he pulls back, drawing up to his full height. “You’re my manager.”

You’re too stunned to reply, unable to get any words out as you watch him walk back towards the elevator. He gives a wave of his fingers, disappearing from sight. You stare at the empty hallway for a moment, letting out a frustrated scoff and scrubbing your hand over your face. 

Exhaustion weighs your body down and you’re crawling into bed after showering, tugging the blankets up over yourself. The incessant ache between your thighs keeps you from falling asleep and you’re acutely aware of how empty you feel.

It’s why your hand is creeping down into your sleep shorts, a soft noise spilling into the quiet air when you find you’re already wet. Sylus’ face flashes through your mind, and instead of pushing it away, you focus on it. You rub your clit, slowly at first, savoring the sensation as you imagine his lazy smile.

The image shifts however, and now you’re imagining him between your thighs, your hand in his white hair as he licks over your cunt. It has your back arching, fingers rubbing against your clit faster as you moan.

“Fuck,” you whimper, stroking over your clit gently, the sensation making your thighs twitch.

Your imagination has begun to run rampant, imagining his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks into you, his mouth on your body, on your lips, against your ear whispering filth. You stuff two fingers into your pussy, fucking them in and out desperately. You have no doubt Sylus’ fingers would reach deeper. 

You need him, you need him desperately . You think about him shoving your face into the pillows, palming your ass and sinking his cock into you. You think about his body flush against yours, his hands stroking your hair as he humps his hips into you. He’s just so big , his weight on top of yours would most likely make you lose your mind. Slick pours out of your cunt rapidly, whimpers filling in the air with how sensitive you’ve become.

“Sylus!” you moan his name as you cum, body shuddering.

Panting, you stare up at the ceiling, a frustrated whine slipping out of you when you realize how pathetically you’re acting. The haze of your orgasm doesn’t let your mind linger on the thought for any longer, your eyes drooping shut as you fall asleep.

-

You’re too weak to resist.

It’s how you’ve ended up here, inside his personal boxing ring, with him adjusting the tape on your hands. He’d suggested boxing gloves, but they’d kept slipping off with how big they were.

Your body stiffens when he steps up behind you. Sylus has you feeling like a fool as you hold your arms up, bent at the elbows, hands curled into fists. You meet his gaze through the mirror and he simply smirks, his chest pressing against your back as he fixes your form.

“Thumbs outside,” he murmurs, prying your fist open to tug your thumb free, “you’ll break them otherwise.”

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” you mutter, tensing when his fingers trail down your side.

“Self-defense is always necessary,” he replies.

You bite back a whine when his large hand curls around your hip, his palm pushing gently as he gets you to shift your stance.

“When you throw a punch, you have to pivot,” Sylus says, his other hand dropping to the other side of your hips. “Keep your shoulders relaxed, if you’re too tense the hit won’t be as powerful.”

You can’t exactly relax when he’s hovering behind you. Sylus squeezes your hips and you don't know whether he’s actually trying to teach you or whether he’s simply being a horrible man and setting off your poor touch-starved body. 

“Wrist straight,” he continues, stepping away. “Put your body weight into it, and remember to pivot, okay?”

A simple nod is all that leaves you and he stands in front of you, holding his hands up. You can’t help but feel insulted.

“At least put the boxing pads on,” you mutter, feeling miffed.

“Hit me,” Sylus orders instead.

You lean forward, hips twisting as you put as much of your body weight into the punch as you can, shoulder rippling forward as you punch his hand.

“What are you trying to hurt, a fly?” he drawls, shooting you an unimpressed look. “Again.”

“I could have your reputation ruined,” you hiss back, adjusting your position. You let your hips pivot again, cheeks flushed with irritation as your arm shoots forward, punching his hand.

“Better.”

A satisfied huff sounds and you cross your arms over your chest triumphantly. It’s the little things in life, you think. Sylus rolls his eyes, his finger nudging at your forehead.

“Let’s just hope you don’t run into any more unsavory characters.”

“There’s plenty of other ways to defend myself,” you retort. “Pepper spray, tasers, and well, men always tend to have a weakness.” You point to the spot between his thighs.

Sylus looks down to where you’re gesturing, a laugh breaking out of him when he realizes what you’re implying. 

“Not always,” he says and your eyes widen when he suddenly approaches you. Sylus places his hand over your mouth, spinning you around so that he’s practically draped over your back. “Get out of this.”

It’s hard to move when he has you pinned against him like this, but you shift your arm, driving your elbow back into his side hard . Sylus grunts, his grip loosening on you just for a moment. It’s the fraction of a second that you need, leg lifting as you stomp his foot harshly. He lets out a pained groan, and your leg kicks out again, landing a blow to his knee. 

Sylus buckles onto the mat of the boxing ring and part of you can’t believe you’ve managed to bring him down. You hover over him, almost feeling bad for the man as he clutches his knee.

A sigh of a feigned dramatics leaves you, a satisfied expression creeping up onto your face. “You know, you did tell me to get out- ah! ” You shriek when he grabs your arm, tugging you down. Your legs give way and you land on the mat in a heap, letting out a pained noise.

“Celebrated too early,” he murmurs, “once your attacker is down, you run .”

You grunt in annoyance, ignoring his hand when he offers it as he stands up. Sylus waits for a few moments longer, letting out a soft laugh before he hauls you up by your elbow, setting you on your feet.

He lowers his head to check if there’s any damage to your face, invading your personal space. Your head leans back as his face moves closer until you can feel the heat of his breath fanning across your skin. 

“Stop it,” you mutter, taking a step back.

You’re too clumsy for your own good however, losing your footing at the edge of the boxing ring. A squeak escapes you, arms flailing for a bit as you feel yourself beginning to slip, the ropes sliding down your back. Sylus reaches for you before you can fall, tugging you towards him. 

“Careful,” he chastises. 

Sylus’ hand smooths over your hair, brushing it away from your face. Your breath hitches when he cups your cheeks, tilting your head up.

“Stop- stop doing that,” you whisper, “stop touching me.”

“I don’t want to,” Sylus murmurs, his arm wrapping around your waist, “stop fighting me.”

You send him a half-hearted glare and he smirks, drawing you closer until you’re flush against his body.

“You wanted it last night,” he continues, mouth hovering above yours, “give in.”

His stare is blistering and it’s almost as though Sylus can see through you, though you’re not sure whether you’re ready for that yet. Your head shakes stubbornly and he lets go of you, letting out a sigh.

You watch as he shrugs off his shirt, his muscles flexing. Unspoken words sit on the tip of your tongue, but he’s leaving the boxing ring. The sound of his fist colliding with the punching bag echoes through the room and you stand there awkwardly, watching as the punching bag rattles under the force of his punches.

“Should I leave?” you call out meekly once you’ve managed to get out of the boxing ring yourself.

“Stay,” Sylus replies, glancing back at you, “we aren’t done.”

His words sound foreboding enough to have you squirming in place. Sylus hits that stupid punching bag countless times, to the point where even your emails aren’t keeping you interested. 

Sweat covers his taut muscles as he approaches you, his hand running through his hair. You find your eyes fixated on his biceps, how broad his shoulders are and how big he is. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs.

“Like what?” you ask breathlessly.

He reaches out, his fingers squishing your cheeks together. “Like you want me to fuck you.”

Well, he’s not exactly wrong . You stare at him for a moment longer, heart racing in your chest. All your previous reasons to not pursue something with him have begun to fail you, your stubbornness being chipped away as he runs his thumb over your lips.

“I do,” you say, voice hoarse, “I do want you to fuck me.”

Sylus grins, his eyes flashing dangerously at your confession. The sweat on his body seeps into your clothes when he pushes you up against the wall, but you don’t care, hands spreading across his firm chest, a soft whine slipping out of you.

“Why the change in mind?” he coos, his thumb brushing over your lips again.

“Do I need a reason?” you whisper, opening your mouth and sucking his thumb into your mouth.

Surprise flits across his face and he lets out a deep laugh, pushing his thumb into your mouth further. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling around his digit, before lapping at the pad of his thumb playfully. He kisses your cheek, trailing hungry kisses down your neck, hand squeezing at your waist roughly.

“Always look so fuckin’ pretty,” he rasps, pulling his thumb free from the confines of your mouth.

His body is warm against yours, his hands groping at your ass, squeezing at the fat appreciatively. You whimper, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, eager for his mouth on yours.

“Wanted to do this at the match,” Sylus murmurs, “on the big screens. Could’ve shown everyone how good my manager is for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, tilting your head as he kisses along your jaw, “that- ah- that would’ve caused a scandal.”

“The things I want to do to you would cause a bigger scandal,” he says, smiling down at you.

You’re weak for it, the lazy curl of his lips, the low drawl of his voice. You tug him down a little more and press a heated kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes bore into yours and he lets out an amused huff, stroking his thumb over the curve of your cheek before finally slotting his lips over yours. 

Sylus works his lips against yours, hand cupping the back of your head to draw you closer to him. He maneuvers you as he pleases, your hands sliding down to rest against his bare chest, rising up on the tips of your toes.

He hisses suddenly, pulling away and you frown, brows furrowing. Sylus touches his still healing split lip, running his tongue over it.

"Sorry," you wince.

"I'm fine," he murmurs, lowering his head, "kiss me, sweetie."

"Oh, I don't think-"

Sylus doesn't let you finish. You’re both stumbling together, bumping into a wall every so often as he kisses you all the way to his bedroom, his hands roving over you. Biting your lip, you push at his chest, smiling when he falls down onto the bed, flat on his back.

Sylus shifts, propping his arm behind his head to watch you. You’ve never felt this adventurous before, but you’re pulling your shirt off slowly, giving him a show. His eyes darken when you take off your bra, taking in your breasts and pebbled nipples. 

“Tease,” he murmurs when you pinch your nipples.

You take your shorts off next, hooking your thumbs into your panties to shimmy them off when he stops you.

“Keep them on,” Sylus says, voice laden with lust. “C’mere, baby.”

You crawl over him and Sylus drags you into another kiss, brushing your hair back. He squeezes at your ass a few times, groaning into your mouth as he feels your tits squished up against his chest.

“Hi,” you whisper, nosing against his cheek.

“Hey,” he says hoarsely, hands caressing your hips.

You can feel how hard he is through his shorts, the straining imprint of it against your skin. Sylus doesn’t let you touch his cock though, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and moving your jaw to guide you into a kiss. 

A soft whimper escapes you when you feel his fingers brush your panties, pressing a little firmer until he’s rubbing your cunt through your panties. Sylus’ kisses grow sloppier, spit leaking from the sides of your mouths until he’s pushing your panties to the side and spreading your folds with his fingers.

“ Fuck ,” you mewl, pulling away from his ravenous mouth to rock your hips back into his fingers.

“So wet, sweetie,” Sylus whispers, tongue darting out to lick over your lower lip, “all for me, hm?”

You nod, hand squeezing at his shoulder. He smiles against your lips and you kiss him, fingers in his hair whilst your other hand wanders over his chest and abdomen. 

Sylus sinks a finger into you, and your suspicions are confirmed, his fingers do reach deeper. He keeps you on the edge, alternating between rubbing at your clit and sinking a finger into you from time to time.

“Sylus,” you whine, pouting, “wanna cum.”

“Knew you’d be this whiny,” Sylus says, rubbing your clit faster, spreading your slick over your cunt.

That catches you off-guard. “You- you thought about me?” you ask breathily.

“All the time,” he groans, “always so fuckin’ good to me. Had to stop myself from getting hard every time you taped my hands.”

You let out a strangled moan at his confession, pressing yourself closer and smashing your lips onto his. He grunts, cupping the back of your neck to kiss you back just as feverishly, bullying another finger into your pussy.

Sylus licks into your mouth and you suck on his tongue, tugging lightly at the strands. He doesn’t let anymore spit drip, licking it up from your chin and pushing it back into your mouth. 

“ Ah- ” you pant, eyes rolling back as he curls his fingers, thrusting them in and out of you.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, kissing your cheek, “taking my fingers so well.”

His thumb joins in on the onslaught, rubbing over your clit until you’re twitching and letting out ragged gasps. 

Sylus moves you onto your back suddenly, his hands pulling your panties down and pushing your thighs up so that your cunt is on display for him. He groans at the sight, drinking in the glistening folds of your pussy.

Thumbing them apart, he groans again, watching the clench of your aching hole around nothing. 

“Pretty pussy,” Sylus whispers, lowering his head to lick a stripe up your wet, slick pussy, “prettiest fuckin’ pussy ever, sweetie.”

He slips two of his fingers back into your pussy, crimson eyes finding yours as he kisses your clit gently. You smile hazily, running your fingers through his hair and rolling your hips up so he can kiss your clit again.

Sylus’ mouth latches onto your cunt before long, licking through the folds before sucking your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the swollen bud and flicking at it. You gasp, drinking in a shuddering breath of air as he squeezes your thighs and draws back to spit on your cunt.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, pressing his head back down, “Sylus, don’t stop.”

He huffs out a breath against your pussy, a half-laugh. Sylus doesn’t deny you though, dutifully carrying out his role, eating you out roughly. You squeal when he shoves his tongue into your pussy, fucking it in and out you for a few moments before his mouth is finding your clit again, teeth grazing the sensitive bud.

You twitch, tugging at his hair harder, letting out another squeal when he squeezes your breast roughly, his other hand tweaking at your hard nipple.

“‘m gonna cum,” you say, voice wavering, “ fuck , ‘m gonna cum !”

Sylus looks up at you, and it’s just like you imagined. His red eyes stare at you intently and the eye contact coupled with his tongue stroking over your clit is enough to have you crying out, body writhing as you cum on his tongue.

He hums into your cunt, holding you still as you try to escape his still working mouth, hands smoothing over your sides. Sylus laps over your cunt as you cum, drinking up your slick greedily, pulling away with a few soft pecks to your clit and inner thighs.

“You’re insane,” you mumble, cupping his cheek to kiss him.

Hand slipping lower, you grasp him through his shorts, reveling in the little gasp he lets out. From what you can feel, he’s long and thick , his cock throbbing through the fabric.

He helps you pull his shorts off, and your breath gets stuck in your throat, eyes fixated on his cock. Sylus is thick and big , and you think your poor pussy might split if he tries to stuff it inside of you.

“Not going to fit,” you whisper, voicing your concerns.

Sylus smirks, pulling you by the arm to kiss your cheek. “I’ll make it fit.”

Red, hot arousal runs through you at his words and you lean forward to kiss him again. Sylus runs his fingers through your hair, gathering the strands in a fist as you shift lower and press a kiss to the head of his cock.

Pre-cum drips from the tip and your tongue darts out, lapping it up so as to not waste a single drop. Sylus breathes heavily and you smile up at him, letting your tongue loll out.

“Brat,” he says, grasping the base of his cock before smacking the length of his cock against your tongue a few times, “this what you want?”

You nod, holding your tongue out obediently before licking up the length of it, tracing a throbbing vein. Your tongue swirls around the head, and Sylus moans, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he watches your mouth envelop his cock. 

It’s a struggle to not let your teeth graze the sensitive skin of his cock, but you do your best, sinking your head down more, lips stretched around the fatness of his cock. 

“Tap my thigh if it’s too much,” Sylus whispers, pushing your head gently.

Tears prick at your eyes, feeling his cock go deeper, air being sucked in through your nose as your throat swallows around him. 

“ Shit ,” he hisses, fingers spreading out across your scalp, “just like that, baby.”

You whine, nails digging into his thigh, taking him to the hilt as your nose buries into the white hair at the base of his cock. Sylus moans loudly and you pull off, catching your breath by opting to place little kisses along the length of his cock. 

Licking up the length of his cock again, you suck the head of it into your mouth, head bobbing shallowly as you hollow your cheeks and suck. Sylus mutters out quiet curses, his hand smoothing over your hair when his grip loosens. The weight of his cock on your tongue has your eyes drooping, your half-lidded gaze peering up into his aroused one.

His cock jerks against your lips, more pre-cum falling from his cock in fat globs. You catch them with your tongue, licking over the head of his cock and the leaking tip. His cum is addictive, the taste heady as you rub your lips across his tip, kissing at the flared head of his cock.

His thighs twitch and you giggle drunkenly, kissing his hip.

Sylus reaches down, cupping your cheek to kiss you, uncaring of the taste of his cum in your mouth. You whine, hand wrapping around his fat cock to stroke him, the sinful sounds filling the room as he wraps his hand around your throat to hold you in place while he kisses you. 

“I didn’t take my manager for a whore,” he whispers, breath fanning across your lips.

“‘s your fault,” you reply, kissing him sweetly, wrist rotating as you jerk him off.

Sylus pants into your mouth, his hand tightening around your throat. You whine lowly, eyes fluttering shut when he kisses you messily, his hips bucking into your hand.

“My pretty, little whore,” Sylus says, squeezing your neck before letting go.

“Yours,” you agree, nose nudging against his affectionately.

Sylus kisses you slower this time, his hand cradling the back of your head. It’s tender enough to stop you from stroking his cock, your mind turning to mush with how gently he’s kissing you.

You can hear your lips smacking together, his hand rubbing up and down your back, his other hand drifting to circle your swollen clit again. You whine quietly, nuzzling into his cheek.

“Want me to fill you up, baby?” Sylus murmurs, his hand squeezing at your ass, “make you go brainless on my cock?”

“ Yes !” you sound your want, gripping his shoulder. “Please, please! Want- want your cock so bad, Sylus. I want you!”

He groans at the sheer need in your voice, and you roll over onto your stomach when he lets you, arching your back and pushing your ass up into the air.

“Sweetie,” Sylus rasps, spanking your ass, “ fuck- so fuckin’ good to me.”

You shove your face into a pillow, muffling your squeal when he shoves his face into your cunt, licking over your slick folds. Sylus spanks your ass again before kissing and biting at the reddened skin, leaving the imprints of his teeth on your ass. 

He’s kind enough to shove a pillow under your hips, the thoughtful action making your heart flutter wildly. The press of his cock against your pussy is enough to have you moaning again, hips rocking back to try and get the head of it to slip inside.

“Needy baby,” Sylus whispers, draping himself over your back to kiss your shoulder. “My cock-hungry slut.”

“ Oh- oh fuck ,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he wraps his arm around you neck.

“Good girl,” Sylus whispers, kissing your cheek as his arm tightens.

You coo happily, turning your head to kiss the bulge of his bicep, feeling all rational thought leave your mind as nuzzle against his warm skin. He laughs hoarsely, brushing another kiss to your shoulder, hand kneading the fat of your hip.

“Put it in,” you demand, pussy empty and aching for his cock.

“Be patient,” Sylus admonishes, his fingers stroking over your pussy again. “I need a condom.”

“N-no!” Your protest comes out entirely too quickly and Sylus pauses his movements. You grumble, looking back at him. “I- I mean, I’m on birth control and I’m clean… please, Sylus?”

Sylus raises his brows, peering down at you. “Yeah? You want my cock raw, baby? Wanna feel every inch filling you up?”

You nod, a contented sigh leaving you, your lips drifting across the corded muscle of his forearm as he plays with your cunt, pushing his fingers in one last time before he grasps his cock. You whine, teeth sinking into his bicep as Sylus pushes his cock in slowly.

The sheets of his bed are in disarray with how you’re clawing at them, feeling his thick cock stretch you out. 

“Too- too much!” you hiccup, squirming under him.

“Nearly there,” Sylus whispers, squeezing his arm around your neck tighter, “take my cock, sweetie.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he bottoms out. Sylus is hard and thick , his cock throbbing inside of your aching cunt. You feel wonderfully full, mouth placing sloppy kisses to his bicep as he drops his weight onto you, pinning you against the bed.

“Fuck- hah- cunt’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he groans.

As though in response, your pussy clenches around him and Sylus swears again, his forehead falling against your shoulder. He lets you get adjusted to his size, his hand caressing your waist soothingly before you can feel his hips draw back, thrusting into you slowly.

“You’re so big ,” you slur, eyes fluttering shut.

Sylus grunts, his fat cock bullying into your pussy again when he rolls his hips forward, breathing heavily against your back. You feel perfectly at home, content with the feeling of his arm around his neck, and the weight of his body bearing down on you. Reaching behind you blindly, you manage to find his hand and Sylus laces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand affectionately. 

“It’s like you were made for me,” Sylus whispers against your cheek, “hm? You were made for me, baby. Perfect little cunt made to take my cock.”

It’s getting harder to suck in air with how tightly his arm is constricting your throat. An uneven gasp leaves your mouth, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure mixes in with the lack of oxygen, his filthy words driving you further and further into a place where you can’t think.

His cock punches into you, his balls smacking against your clit, the sounds echoing through the room, the lewd harshness of skin slapping against skin making your cheeks flush. Sylus lets you breathe more comfortably when you dig your nails into his arm, trailing soft kisses along your cheek.

“Good girl,” he praises, his needy pants filling your ear, “my perfect girl.”

You whine, tilting your head a little more. “W-wanna kiss,” you mumble, “kiss me, Sylus.”

Sylus kisses you gently, his lips moving against yours whilst his hips hump into your ass, driving his cock deep into your clenching pussy. He moves you before long, turning you on to your back, kissing your ankles and dipping his head to land a reverent kiss to your fluttering pussy.

Your legs lock around his waist, staring up at him hazily with your lip bitten as he pushes his cock into you again. Sylus lowers his body onto yours, making sure you’re comfortable before his hips are moving again.

“Feels s’good,” you mumble, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

Sylus hums, brushing a kiss to your brow, his hands smoothing over your hair. His thrusts grow more powerful before long, punching the air out of your lungs, your cries emanating through the room as your nails claw down his back.

“Gonna cum?” he asks, voice a low growl as he feels you clenching around him tightly.

You nod rapidly, hands curling around his shoulders as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, nipping and biting as he grinds his cock in deep . You whimper, back arching, and he grins against your skin, slowing his movements to make sure you can feel his every inch fat, throbbing cock filling you up.

“So pretty,” Sylus whispers, nosing along your cheek, “my pretty slut falling apart on my cock.”

“Sylus!” you cry out his name wantonly. 

Sylus growls, his hand slipping down to hike you thigh up a little higher before he starts pounding into you without abandon. 

“Where do you want it?” he hisses, his red eyes alight as he stares down at you. “My cum,” he clarifies when he sees the confusion in your cock-drunk gaze, “where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you whisper, body trembling with each thrust he delivers to your pussy, “fill me up, Sylus. Wanna feel it.”

“Little vixen,” Sylus snarls, kissing you roughly. You scream and squeal, the noises muffled every so often when he kisses you desperately, the coil of pleasure in your stomach curling tighter and tighter until it snaps.

You moan out his name, thighs twitching violently, nails digging into his back.

“ Hah- ” he rasps, peppering soft kisses along your jaw, “pussy’s gripping me so tight fuck- couldn’t pull out even if I tried.”

Sylus lets out a growly moan, his hand squeezing at your hip as he buries his face into the crook of your neck again. You can feel his cock twitching, his hips slowing to a stuttering stop as he cums, filling you up. Hot, thick cum floods your pussy and you whine softly, the sensation sending little aftershocks through your body. He shallowly fucks his cum into you, hips moving slowly before he slumps on top of you completely.

You push at his chest when his weight becomes too much. “Get off me, you brute.”

“Shut up,” Sylus murmurs, smacking your thigh lightly.

A smile spreads across your face when he lifts his head, his lips slotting over yours in a tender kiss. You make a noise of contentment, wrapping your arms around his neck, pecking his lips a few more times. 

Sylus grunts as he moves off of you, his softening cock slipping out of you. You wince at the feeling of his cum wetting your thighs and Sylus stares down at where his cum leaks out of you, the substance spilling out you thickly.

“Don’t look,” you whine, trying to snap your thighs shut.

Sylus doesn’t let you, grabbing one of your legs to kiss your ankle and then your knee. He presses soothing kisses to your inner thighs, thumbs apart your folds to watch his cum leak out of you again, landing a soft kiss to your clit every so often.

You roll your eyes, pushing at his head when he tries to suck your clit into his mouth, your pussy already oversensitive. He grins, moving towards you again and you cup his cheek, drawing him into a kiss.

-

A few hours later, you’re sitting in his lap.

You’d both showered together, exchanging lazy kisses under the hot water. Sylus had given you one of his shirts and a pair of his briefs and they were entirely too big, but you’d pulled them on anyways, his shirt smelling like him comfortingly. 

“Look,” Sylus says, pointing to the screen playing the recording of his match last night.

His large tv screen depicts your flushed face from when he’d reached for you, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Scoffing, you swat his chest and Sylus laughs, letting you hide your heated face in the crook of his neck.

“You look cute,” he murmurs, his hand rubbing and down your back. “Besides, how are you going to handle it when I kiss you in front of everyone?”

“I’m not going to handle it, because you’re not going to do that.”

“I will,” Sylus replies smoothly, slouching a little on his couch, “when I win the championship.”

“Don’t sound so sure,” you retort. You hate how straightforward he is.

Sylus’ eyes flutter shut when you run your fingers through his hair, a sigh escaping him.

“You should be more encouraging,” he says, petting your sides.

You smile faintly, tilting his head to kiss him. Sylus groans into your mouth, pulling you closer by the back of your neck until you’re making out sloppily, the sounds of fists colliding with skin playing on the tv behind you.

“Is- is that enough encouragement?” you ask breathily, pulling away with swollen lips.

Sylus stares up at you, his lips parted and hair messy and you think you might’ve taken that shower for nothing.

“Need a little more, baby,” he whispers, pulling you back.

He kisses you breathless, his hands slipping up under the shirt to feel your warm skin. You nuzzle into his cheek afterwards, looping your arms around his neck. He caresses your breasts idly, sometimes squeezing, other times simply grazing his thumbs over your areolas. 

A moment of silence passes before he’s speaking again.

“Kieran scratched your car.”

[luveline]

oooh what about hotch's sister calling spencer to pick her up at the hospital after an accident or something because she doesn't want hotch to know since worry and go into protective big brother mode, but spencer tells him anyway and they both show up and lots of fluff ensues :)

adopted fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for panic attacks

You should call your brother. 

You think about it, even pull up his contact, he’s the first person you go to when you need help and he always has been, but lately Aaron has been so stressed you hesitate, clicking the text button by mistake. 

You read back his last message. 

I can feel myself being spread too thin but there’s nothing I can do to fix it, he’d text. I guess I’m frustrated. But how are you, working girl? New jobs are scary. I bet you’re doing better than you think already. Jack and I are super proud of you

You’d sent him a meagre response. You aren’t always sure what to say to him. Sincerity is easier in person, but even then, he can be terse and deflective; he looks after you and no one looks after him. 

You didn’t tell him about work, and you won’t tell him about now. You call Spencer instead. This is a good way to test the almost dating thing, right? 

He doesn’t answer. When you call again, he answers on the first ring. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“No. Are you busy?” 

“I’m not busy if you’re not okay. Two seconds.” There’s a pause where you assume he’s moving from one place to another, perhaps closing a book around his hand, or closing the lid on an early lunch. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m, uh, in hospital. I had a huge panic attack at work and I… thought I was having a heart attack, so I–” You’re so embarrassed your voice turns to a thread. “Sorry, I know it’s so stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid, that’s not stupid. How do you feel now?” 

“Like someone hit me really hard in the chest.” 

“Are you calmed down?” 

“Mostly.” You wince. “They want to talk to me about medications. Uh.” You clear your throat. “I want to go home.” 

“Angel… I’m on my way, okay? I’ll get Hotch and–”

“You can’t tell him.” 

“What?” 

“Please, Spencer, he gets so worried, he’s worried enough. And if he finds out I had a panic attack he’ll try and make me take time off of work and that’s just another thing on his plate he didn’t ask for–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, “please don’t panic. You’ve had a hard morning, panicking again is really gonna hurt. Try and think about things that don’t wind you up, alright? Is there anything you need me to get?” 

“You don’t have to come.” 

“That’s why you called me, right? I’ll be there.” 

You can’t know that he says goodbye and ducks straight back into Hotch’s office, where he’d been, to tell on you. It’s not to hurt you and it isn’t because you told him not to —it’s two parts concern, and one part self preservation. Aaron needs to know and you need him with you, and he also can’t imagine things going well for himself if he kept the news of your stay a secret. The shovel talk plays in his mind. 

Aaron’s shovel talk being, You won’t do anything to hurt her, said simply, and with an impassive expression that bordered terrifying. Not overly unaffected, just casual. 

You’re laying in your hospital bed with your hands clasped across your stomach when Spencer arrives. He frowns at you in your bed, worse when he sees your smudged makeup and the chafed inside of your wrist where you’ve picked and squeezed at your own skin. Your panic has left a physical mark, your chest aching as you force yourself to sit, and it hurts doubly so when your brother lets himself in behind your nearly-boyfriend.

You don’t have it in you to complain. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says, reaching down to give you a quick hug as you sit. “I had to tell him.” 

 Aaron’s hug is similarly apologetic, though much longer. “You weren’t gonna tell me?” he asks quietly, his hand settling at the place between your shoulders. “How do you feel now?” 

“I’m fine, I– I really thought I was having a heart attack.” 

“That’s common,” Spencer says, “it’s the feeling of impending doom, thousands of people mistake anxiety for medical issues every week.” 

Aaron holds you by the shoulders. “It’s okay,” he says. “Was it a doctor that checked you out, or a nurse?” 

Aaron probes the name of your nurse from you and promises to be back soon. He seems to have gleaned that the quickest way to get information today won’t be from you. 

Spencer goes in for another hug when he leaves, and then, to your delight, a very quick kiss pressed to your cheek. He ducks away after that and sits on the side of your hospital bed, his knuckles gracing the outside of your thigh. “Thank you for calling me,” he says, smiling at you, and better when you smile back.

“Thanks for coming.” 

“Of course. I know how it feels, okay? If they want to talk about medication it’s a good thing, but everyone has moments like this.” 

“I can’t believe you told Aaron,” you say, giving a weak but playful glare.

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to. He loves you, he wants to know what’s hurting you, no matter how much stuff is on his plate.” 

You bite the inside of your lip, contemplative for a few slow seconds. “You think so?” you ask finally. 

The hair flicked under his ears wobbles as he nods. “Absolutely.” 

You lean forward to readjust his collar and tie. He’s wearing one of his cutesy waistcoats, dark grey over a light blue shirt. His tie has patterns you trace with your thumb, like fish scales. “Sorry, I know you were working,” you murmur. 

“I think my boss will forgive me.” 

You let your hands fall. Spencer, perhaps picking up on a hint you hadn’t meant to give, takes them both into one of his and squeezes reassuringly. 

“It’s harder than I thought,” you confide softly. 

“It’s an adjustment period. But maybe it’s not right for you, there. That’s what started it, right? Your job.” 

“I’m not sure. I don’t know. I get panicky about all sorts of stuff, but I’ve never had one this bad before. I was a miserable kid, you can ask Aaron, but I really thought I was better.” 

He rubs over your fingers with his thumb. “I think we all have stuff that messes us up. Doesn’t mean you’re not better. You don’t even really have to be better. And I… I am here for you, I promise. I know you have no reason to trust me with it yet, but I’ll listen whenever you need me to.” 

You think about kissing him. Spencer kisses like he’s suffocating and your air, it’s cliche and undeniably true. Whenever you kiss him it’s like a shock —he steals your breath, he can’t stop himself from grabbing your face, and any other time you’d love it, but right now you just need a peck. You’re hoping he can do those kinds of kisses too. 

“Will you kiss me?” you ask tentatively.

He gets the memo on gentleness. You shouldn’t be surprised, your very first kiss was tame, his hand running up your arm as he encourages you forward. Your eyes shutter closed at the feeling of his lips on yours, and the exhausting thrumming that’s lived beneath your skin since you woke up numbs to a more manageable ache. 

Spencer breaks away. He cups your cheek quickly, dropping it immediately when the door opens. 

You shuffle backward nonchalantly. 

Aaron gives you a sarcastic look. Really? it says. I wasn't born yesterday. 

“They want to give you a prescription for Paxil, honey, what do you think?” He turns his attention to Spencer reluctantly. “What’s her best option here?” 

“Paxil could be fine. They didn’t suggest a benzodiazepine? Paxil is an SSRIs, it slows down the rate of serotonin reuptake, basically increasing the effectiveness of your bodies natural serotonin, which could decrease the risk of another attack, but taking it won’t stop her from feeling like this,” —he frowns at your location— “very quickly. Ideally she should have a medication for general anxiety and the option for quicker relief if this happens again.” He smiles at you suddenly, nearly shyly. “If that’s what you want, that is.” 

“What are you thinking, honey?” Aaron asks you. 

You have the two of them here to look after you while you decide. You take Spencer’s hand gently, desperate for reassurance. “I’m not sure.” 

“It’s okay, we’ll work it out,” your brother promises. 

Spencer squeezes your hand. 

[dira333]

Big Stretch - Kenma x Reader

@luvring you cannot post a Kenma hc and think I won't find out and marinate it in my head until I have to write it

Haikyuu taglist: @lees-chaotic-brain

"Oooh, big stretch."

Kenma turns to glare at you, arms not fully extended yet. He folds in again, pouting slightly. "I'm not a cat," he says and you cock your head to the side to observe him.

"Could have fooled me." You tease.

He huffs, face growing red as he looks to the side. Oh no, did you go too far?

“Hey,” you lean in, try to catch his eye, “That was meant as a compliment. I like cats.”

He hums low in his throat, turns his amber eyes back to the paper in front of him.

“Can we just go back to work?” He asks and you nod. “Yeah, sure.”

-

“Oooh, big stretch.”

Kenma sends you a pointed glare. The guy next to him, hair dark and disheveled, chuckles low in his throat.

“Your friend?” He asks and Kenma makes it a point to shake his head exaggeratedly.

“Should I turn around so you can finish stretching?” You ask, leaning into your seat, “Or can I stay to enjoy the show.”

Red blooms on Kenma’s face as he ducks behind the collar of his shirt.

“Stop,” he whines, “There are people around.”

“Ah, young love,” the guy next to him whistles and Kenma digs an elbow into his side. “Stop it, Kuroo! I don’t even know them!”

“Liar,” you call him out, “You love me.” And though it’s said as a joke you can’t help but think that it’s more of a manifestation. If you say it often enough it will come true.

-

“Oooh, big stretch.” 

Kenma huffs. He stops moving, frozen for a second before he throws his arm around you, rests his head on your shoulder and fakes the loudest snore you’ve ever heard.

“Long game, huh?” You ask, eyes finding Kuroo’s who’s got the usual knowing smirk.

“Aren’t you tired too, dear manager?” He asks.

You shake your head, heart bubbling in your chest with how close Kenma is. Even if you had been exhausted, you couldn’t be anymore, not with him cuddling into you.

Out of sight of his teammates, his ankle crosses yours.

Truly, feet-holding is so much cuter than hand-holding.

-

“Oooh, big stretch.”

Kenma blinks, sleep settling heavily into his skin. He makes grabby hands, calling you in, and even though teasing him is as necessary to you as breathing, you cannot stay away when he’s cute like this.

You settle on his lap, lean over him, hands on either side of his face as if you’re kabedon-ing him into the mattress.

“Slept well, little kitty?” You ask and he smiles, hair fanned out around his face. 

Instead of answering he hooks one hand around your neck and pulls you in, his lips soft and a little chapped, writing poetry into your skin.

-

“Oooh, big stretch.”

Kenma glares, lips stretching into a pout at your words. You can tell he’s not fully done stretching yet, but he’s unwilling to stretch again just because you commented on it.

“In my defense,” you tell him, nudging his back with your socked foot, “You are napping like a cat.”

“‘m not.”

“Am too. It’s cute.”

“Your mom’s cute.”

You snicker. “I’ll tell her you said that.”

He groans. “Look away,” he says, “I need to stretch.”

“Mhm, no, I got full staring rights when you said ‘I do’.”

“Should have read the fine print.”

“Should have, yes.” You lean forward, fold yourself in a way that’s making your back ache, but now you’re face to face with him, able to press a kiss to his nose. 

“Now you’re mine.”

He smiles, unable to keep up the pout, ducking his face behind his long hair.

“‘m yours.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[peachesofteal]

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Protective Simon. For the beautiful and talented @lethalchiralium

Simon’s phone is ringing. 

Price raises an eyebrow from the end of the table, pausing mid-sentence, confused. Simon’s phone never rings. It’s always on full volume, because he never gets phone calls, except for ones from the 141, and they’re all here. At this briefing.  

His fingers find the ringer, ready to silence what he’s sure is a nuisance call, some telemarketer or robot, when he reads your name across the screen. 

You’ve never called him before. Unease tightens across his chest, and without any explanation, he excuses himself from the room and the bewildered looks being cast his way. 

“Hey, you-“

“Simon?” You sound off. Like you’re trying to be calm, but there’s something lingering on the edge of your voice, something scared. His spine goes stiff. 

It’s enough to propel him into action, his fist thumping against the window of the brief room, jerking his head south. I’m leaving, the motion signifies. Emergency.

“What’s wrong?” 

“N-nothing. Just… there’s this guy that’s been like, half a block behind me since I got off the train.” He closes his eyes. The fucking train. He wants you to stop taking the train. He needs you to stop taking the train. 

“He followed you from the platform?” 

“Well, he could be walking this way too…” 

“Where are you?” His keys are already in his hand, and he’s running down the hallway, past bewildered administrative staff and everyone else, bursting through the back door and into the truck. His phone chimes with multiple text messages, Price, Johnny, Gaz. All wondering where the hell he ran off to. Only Johnny’s text scratches the surface: Is it your neighbor? He waits another second in silence, hoping you’re trying to get your bearings. “Sweetheart?” 

“I’m… I think we’re coming up on seventh and Warsail. ‘m not too sure. I’ve kind been walking in a roundabout way.” We’re coming up on seventh… we. 

The baby is with you. 

His foot slams the accelerator onto the floor, counting his breaths as he maneuvers each turn in the road. Do you have the stroller? Are you carrying her? Did this guy peg you as an easy target because he knows what Simon knows, that women are more likely to go along with instruction if their child is threatened? That you’d never leave Emmaline behind? That you’d do anything to protect her? 

He feels sick. 

“Are there other people around?” He’s calm on the phone, trying to visualize the street, the buildings, the alleys. Easy spots where cars could reach the highway in seconds, and then be gone. Cramped alleys that connect to others like tangled webs, able to swallow a human being easy, disappear them into the darkness. It makes his stomach turn over. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel so hard; it hurts.

“Yeah, it’s close to the end of the day, so-“ 

“Stay where others can see you. Are you sure you’re on seventh and Warsail?” 

“Yeah. We’re in that park. I-I… wanted to take Emma to see the ducks.” Your voice wavers. “Simon he’s still behind us.” He’s turning the corner now, a block from your cross streets, and instead of yielding for oncoming traffic like he should, he floors it through an intersection, abandoning the truck still on, half parked in an empty street spot.  “Stay where you are, sweetheart. Okay? I’m coming.” 

“You… wait, what? You’re what?” He doesn’t hang up, but keeps the phone against his ear, and takes off down the street in a sprint, fully subscribed to the worst-case scenarios that have been building in his mind, images of you and Emmaline bloody and bruised, or worse. He gets them confused for a moment, memories mixing with the present, two things swirling together until they become indistinguishable, noise and panic roaring too loudly in his head. 

It all comes screeching to a stop. 

He spots you in the park. You do have the stroller, and you’re by the little pond, headphones in, Emmaline in your arms, her little beanie pulled down over her ears. You’re glancing around, nervous, saying his name into the mic. He scans the rest of the faces, passing over anyone who doesn’t strike him as a creepy git, until he finds his target: a skinny, younger guy lurking on the edge of the fence line, watching you. He hangs up the phone and moves across the park involuntarily, rolling his shoulders, and he vaguely sees you from the corner of his eye, mouth dropped open in shock, faintly calling his name. 

“Hey, mate. C’mere.” He shouts, half the people in the vicinity startling in his direction. Everyone seems to move away, like a magnetic force, pulsing outwards as he overtakes the guy with an easy grab to his upper arm. “You like stalking women with babies?” He hisses in his ear, voice low with barely contained rage. The guy is younger than him, but rail thin, and coked out. Probably looking for money. Simon jerks him closer, and he actually yells for help, like he’s a victim. It’s enough to ground the situation, making Simon realize he has an audience, and he grits out a final warning before shoving him away. “I ever see you around my girls again… I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Piss off.” 

“What did he say?” You’re frantic, rubbing Emmaline’s back in a circular pattern, over and over like you’re trying to calm her, even though she’s perfectly content. It’s you who needs soothing, he realizes, and he takes your hand without questioning it, letting his instincts guide him in regard to you without overthinking it. 

“He was high, love. Looking for money.” He doesn’t want to scare you but… he doesn’t despise the idea of instilling some hypervigilance. Maybe this will convince you not to take the train. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Think I scared him off for good though.” He looks around, and then slips off his mask, wide thumb stroking a soft touch on Emma’s cheek before giving you a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright now.” You visibly relax, but don’t let go of his hand, tilting your face up to his, all bright and beautiful, still coming down from the adrenaline of your fear with a whisper on your lips, meant for only him to hear. 

“Our hero.”

[freeabortionslol]

"Baby Zegras" (luke Hughes x zegras!reader)

summary: childhood friends to lovers, reader is trevor's sister, secret dating caught by jack, trevor is portrayed as a mean older brother at the start (im sorry I love him I promise he gets better), italics mean flashbacks

warnings!! heated makeout, suggestive, cursing, mentions of alcohol, mutual pining, fluff, luke being a touch starved awkward king, I feel like I did a bad job proofreading

a/n: strap in cause this one is long!! towards the end it feels kind of rushed but that's bc I need to go to bed but I also wanted to finish this by tn. anyways hope you like it!!

wc:6.6k

The game was long. Too long. The entire time you sat at the edge of your seat up in the box. Your Anaheim Ducks jersey falling slightly past your fingertips, disregarding any attempts to push back your sleeves. Your own last name on your back as you watched your brother, Trevor, race for the puck. You sat in between your mother and father who were basically screaming at the ice like they were down there themselves, but you had your knees to your chest biting your nails. Of course you were proud of your brother, and you always cheered for him any other night, but this game was different. Your attention was focused on New Jersey defenceman, Luke Hughes. When Trevor was 12, he became close with Jack Hughes. They bonded over their love for hockey, and eventually claimed each other as best friends. That summer, Trevor was invited to stay at the Hughes lake house and with how gracious and welcoming Ellen and Jim Hughes were, they offered to let you stay as well. 

“Mama I don’t wanna go! This is stupid. These are Trevor’s friends. I’ve never even met these people before.” You whined as your mother dragged you by your hand out of the car. Your glance immediately caught the large house in front of you. You’d never seen anything like it, never visited a lake being from New York. A boy stood on the front porch, his mother standing beside him with a warm smile. Trevor immediately jumps out of the car, running past you and your mother. You watched as he did a secret handshake with the boy on the porch just before pulling him in for a hug. You took a moment to smell the salty freshness of the air surrounding you. Everything felt so wide and open, and for a split second you thought it might not be too bad. Just as you were enjoying the moment, your mother tugged on your hand walking closer to the house, and your stubbornness kicked back in immediately. You snatched your hand away from her, crossing your arms as you followed her up the porch steps. She hugged the boy’s mother and small conversation began to spark as you stood with a grumpy face behind her. You felt Trevor tug on your arm, pulling you to where he and the boy stood.

“Y/n, this is my friend Jack.” You kept your annoyed face as you shoved Trevors hand off your arm.

“Oh! You’re baby Zegras!” Jack greeted you with a wide smile and held out his hand for you to shake. You simply crossed your arms and let out an aggressive huff.

“I’m not a baby. I’m ten.” You tilted your head away from him as he slowly let down the hand he had up.

“Don’t pay attention to her, Jack. She’s just a brat who wants attention.” Trevor gave the back of your head a hit and you turned your focus back to him.

“I’m not a brat!” You shoved him back, and he sent you a slap to the shoulder.

“Are too!” What started as two shoves turned into a slap fight on the porch between the two of you. You took a couple hits to his face, while his slaps remained on your chest. Just as you were about to send him a friendly kick to the groin your mother came over to separate the two of you.

“Hey! Hey! Mrs. Hughes was nice enough to invite you both to her lake house which we should be grateful for! Let’s try to act like normal human beings for once!” She said sternly, but not yelling like she normally did. Probably didn’t want to scare off Mrs. Hughes.

“She was gonna kick me in the nuts!” Trevor pointed at you, to which you responded by pointing back at him.

“He started it! He called me a brat!” Your face grew angrier as you and Trevor were now in a stare off.

“Yeah, you were being a brat!” You tried to hit him through your mother’s grip, but she had caught it before you even thought about doing so. She put a hand on each of your backs as she guided the two of you into the house with Mrs. Hughes who had started laughing at the sibling tussle saying, “I have three boys. Trust me, I've seen worse. Quinn ripped out Jack’s braces at the ice rink last year.” The mother’s began to walk ahead of you, Trevor and Jack. Your arms remained crossed, still quite upset at Trevor. Before you knew it, Jack had his arm around you as the three of you broke away from your mom and Mrs. Hughes. Trevor walked up next to you mumbling something along the lines of “Don’t embarrass me or I'll kill you and dance on your grave.” Jack led you both down a flight of stairs to the basement, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder. You didn’t hate that it was there, Jack was a pretty boy and the fact that he was your brother’s best friend made the whole situation better. You knew you could use it to twist Trevor’s gears in the future. When you had made it to the bottom of the steps you were greeted by a couch full of guys you had never met.

“Y/n, this is Alex, Cole, my brother Quinn, and my brother Luke. Luke is your age, Quinn is 14 and those two dick heads are me and Trevor’s age.” Your hands fell out of the crossed position they were in, and you allowed your face to soften. “Everyone, this is Baby Zegras.”

You quickly shot him a glare “I’m not a-”

“Not a baby. I know, but the thing about hockey nicknames is that you’re supposed to hate it. You may hate it, but the team thinks it fits.” He interrupted your speech and shook you with the hand on your shoulder. You turned your attention back to the couch full of unfamiliar boys that were friends with Trevor. You’d heard countless stories about them, but now you could put faces to names. You upturned your lips into a half closed-mouthed smile and awkwardly raised your hand to wave. Everyone smiled back and several “Hi!”s echoed through the room. Jack moved his hand to grip on your shoulder as he moved you towards the couch. He took a seat next to Cole, and Trevor followed after. You made your way to the end of the couch to sit next to your brother, but he responded by putting his leg up on the seat next to him.

“Nuh uh. No way. I didn’t even want you to be here.” You almost felt tears well up in your eyes as the only thing you wanted was the comfort of your big brother in a room filled with unfamiliar faces.

“You can come sit with me!” You heard an excited voice from behind and turned around to see the littlest Hughes scooching over and patting the seat next to him. You sucked all of your emotions back into your chest as you made your way over. You took a seat in between Luke and his older brother who was sitting back looking at his phone. The two of you sat awkwardly for a moment and watched as the older boys discussed things that happened during hockey camp. You looked over to Quinn who you were sure was only there to make sure the boys didn’t break any furniture, or light the basement on fire. 

“They call me baby too. Baby Hughes. I hate it.” Luke let out with a small laugh. You smiled and let out a chuckle as the two of you sat shoulder to shoulder, with hands in laps. “We can be babies together.” He looked over at you and held out his fist for a fist bump. You quickly responded to it not wanting to ruin the chance of having an ally at this house for the summer.

Later that night after your mother left, and the house began to quiet down you were moved into the rooms you’d be sleeping in. Being the youngest child, you were prone to separation anxiety and homesickness. You missed your mom, but you were just thankful you’d be sleeping in a room with Trevor. Cole and Alex were tucked away in the spare room, Luke and Jack in Jack’s room, and you and Trevor in Luke’s room. Trevor was visibly upset that he’d be sharing a room with you, rather than his friends that he came on this trip to see. It didn’t make you sad that he didn’t want to share a room, just as long as he’d be forced in there because lord knows you couldn’t sleep alone. You and Trevor were tucked into Luke’s bed around ten. You tossed and tousled trying to sleep which was hard because you were so far away from home and your mother was nowhere to be seen. After about thirty minutes of lying in bed next to Trevor, you felt the weight of his body lift off the mattress. He had assumed you fell asleep and decided to make his way into the room with all of his friends. Without his presence beside you, you immediately felt a wave of sadness come over you. You burst into tears silently, trying to muffle your heavy breathing into the pillow. You wanted nothing more than to be safe in your own bed, in your own house with your family. You lay on your side facing away from the door, practically drowning yourself in your own tears. As you very quietly repeated the words “I just want to go home” to yourself, you heard the door creak open. You immediately sat up, pulling your knees to your chest under the blanket, wiping your nose with the back of your hand as you tried to stifle your sobs.

“Trevor?” You sniffled out with a shaky breath following behind. You had expected, wanted even, to see Trevor creep through the doorway. Despite the fights you just wanted the comfort of your big brother.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Luke shuffled into the room with tired eyes, shutting the door behind him. You caught a sudden shock at the sight of him as he moved closer towards the bed.

“Yeah I-I’m fine.” You nodded your head trying your hardest not to cry in front of the boy, but that all went out the window when you said “I just miss my mommy.” Tears resumed spilling down your face. You bit your lip, hoping it would stop the streaming mess that was burning your face. Luke said nothing. He only walked over to you in the bed and wrapped his arms around you to pull you in for a hug. You continued to cry into his shoulder, letting out shaky breaths. The comfort of his polyester t-shirt against your chin definitely helped.

“You know when I'm away and I miss my mommy, I just hug Buttons and pretend it's her.” Luke let go of the hug and reached down to the floor to grab a beat up looking teddy bear. It had one missing eye, with a button for the other, its ears were limp, and it looked like it had been through two world wars. “I came in here to get him, but I think you need him more than I do.” Luke gave a soft smile as he handed over his teddy bear. The same bear that he’d threatened Jack to death if he dared to touch it. He’d never let another person hold Buttons except for his parents, but for some reason you were different.

Luke stayed in the room after handing over his one prized possession. He laid on the floor with a blanket and a couple pillows to let you have the bed. He talked your little ears off until you finally found the comfort to fall asleep, Buttons in hand. From that day on, you and Luke became inseparable. Everyday at the Lake it was always you two together running around in the yard. You would play together until the two of you basically dropped from exhaustion. You became the “babies” of the lake house. You were invited back the next summer. Per request, an air mattress was moved into Luke’s room which he took gladly and let you have the bed. You weren’t sad when your mother left anymore, in fact it made you happy to know you got to spend time with Luke. The Hughes continued to invite you and Trevor to the lake house every summer, and every summer you and Luke grew closer. You were close with all the other guys with them looking at you like a younger sister, but Luke's eyes turned into hearts when he caught the sight of you. He doesn’t remember exactly when, but he was around thirteen or fourteen when he realized how in love with you he was. The way you made his heart feel when you would even just brush a shoulder against him was intense, and he wanted to feel that way everyday for the rest of his life. When the two of you were fifteen, Jack, Trevor, Cole, and Alex decided to throw a party in the basement while Ellen and Jim were away. There were probably 50 people in the basement that night filled with beautiful girls who you were sure would take Luke’s attention away, but instead the two of you stood against the wall all night sipping from Coca-Cola cans since Jack and Trevor said neither of you were allowed to drink. You and Luke watched as your brothers sat in a circle playing spin the bottle with various girls you’d never seen before and would probably never see again. After realizing how lame the party was since the two of you couldn’t drink, Luke pulled you by your hand outside.

“Race you to the dock.” He said quicker than you could think as he began to run towards the water.

“Not fair Lu!” You raced after him in a fit of giggles trying to catch up. Luke of course, made it to the dock first and before you could stop in your tracks, He grabbed you by your waist. The two of you stood there laughing and collapsing into each other. A few moments later you found yourselves sitting at the edge of the dock sitting shoulder to shoulder with your feet hanging over the water. You two just sat there taking in the quiet bliss away from the obnoxious party behind you. The two of you started talking about the actions of your brothers inside the house specifically, spin the bottle.

“Never had your first kiss, Lukey?” You nudged his shoulder and he let out a soft laugh.

“No. Not yet. Who would I have kissed?” He looked over at you with a toothy grin.

“I don’t know. Sure there’s plenty of girls lined up to kiss the baby Hughes.” He gave a sheepish grin and looked down at the water “I haven’t had mine either. Feels kind of pathetic being fifteen not having kissed anyone. All of my friends have.” You shifted your gaze to the horizon in front of you, taking a sip from your coke can. What you didn’t realize is that Luke had been staring at you. Admiring your features and coming up with either the best or worst idea he’d ever had.

“You could kiss me.” He kept his sight on your face, not realizing what he’d just said. You almost choked on the soda in your mouth as you moved your head to face him. He had a smirk on his face that told you he was infatuated with the way you looked. You couldn’t understand why sitting on the dock with no makeup on, in one of his hockey sweatshirts, with your hair messily waved up from the lake water.

“Really?” You asked him with hope in your voice that he was serious.

“Yeah. I mean it wouldn’t be weird. We're comfortable with each other.” This is when he realized what he had suggested. A bright red tint covered his face as you scooched in closer to him. 

“Okay.” Was all you said as you cupped his face into your hand, pulling him in closer. He placed a simple, but sweet closed-mouthed kiss on your lips. The both of you pulled back in an instant, smiling at each other. You noticed the way his blush creeped towards his ears as you rubbed your thumb against his cheekbone.

Unfortunately for the two of you, this wasn’t the moment that your relationship began. However, it was the moment that made you realize just how in love you were with Luke, the crush no longer being one sided. Throughout high school neither of you dated anyone and the only people you’d ever kissed were each other. The two of you grew out of your awkward teen stages together, remaining close. After graduation, Luke went to U Michigan to play Hockey, while you studied psychology at NYU. Though it seemed to your families and friends that the two of you had drifted, it was quite the opposite. You and Luke would stay up late nights on facetime talking about your vastly different college experiences with each other. You loved him, and he loved you. It had always been that way and you’d hoped it would stay that way. When you found out that Luke had been drafted to the New Jersey Devils and he would be living only 20 minutes away, you immediately dropped every man on your contact list. It only took Luke until the second time he visited your apartment to confess his love to you. It was the most relieving moment of both of your lives, feeling like a giant weight had been lifted from your chests. You and Luke decided to keep your relationship a secret considering if Trevor found out, he’d have to resort to physical violence. Luke recalled Trevor giving a whole speech at the lake house to all the boys saying that you were “off limits” and if he found any of them touching you in any way that wasn’t platonic he’d “beat your ass so far into the ground you’ll be able to see the core of the earth” You and Luke’s relationship consisted of a lot of secret meetups at him and Jack’s apartment after games. Jack always went out with the team for drinks after a win, so you and Luke had the place to yourself. The two of you would steal moments during the day to go out for a nice lunch date, or a stroll through the park. It was all you’ve ever wanted and more

That was almost a year ago. Now, you were sitting in the box seats watching your brother go head to head against your boyfriend on the ice. The entire scene was nerve wracking considering it was third period, with the Ducks leading the Devils 4-3. Your parents were ecstatic as they watched the plays unfold, jumping up and down every time the Ducks got the puck back. You however, were nervously making a snack out of your freshly painted nails with your knees tucked to your chest in the same way they were the night Luke found you crying in his bedroom. With the way you looked and the seats you were in, all signs pointed to “this girl is a Ducks fan” but on the inside you were secretly cheering on the Devils. You’d never seen Luke play in an NHL game before, since you both thought it would look strange showing up to one of his games when the two of you supposedly haven’t spoken in two or three years. You had however, seen Trevor play several times and you knew when he was in the game, he was really into it. Deep down you knew that Trevor wouldn’t get aggressive with the Hughes boys, but for some reason the thought lingered in your mind. Not even specifically Trevor, but the thought of any Ducks player becoming aggressive with Luke made your skin crawl. To you, he was fragile. Always the sweetest guy in the room, and you don’t know what you would do if something terrible happened. You also knew that Luke was constantly chirping at the opposing team which caused your fears to escalate. 

“Baby, you gotta calm down.” Your mom placed a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to bring down your nerves “You’re on high alert right now, and the Ducks are winning!” She points to Trevor on the ice, who is grinning wide. Your gaze remained on Luke who was sitting on the bench, and you wished he would just look at you for two seconds. 

“What? It's a stressful game!” You groaned at your mother with a hint of annoyance. 

“Yeah honey, I didn’t even know you got into hockey like this.” Your dad added to which you gave a simple eye roll and returned chewing on your nails.

“Ooh! I know! Let’s play that game where we try to find your future husband on the opposing team.” You looked over at your mom who was bouncing her shoulders up and down with a mischievous grin.

“No no no. Mom, I don’t wanna play.” You leaned your head back in frustration at her attempts to distract you.

“What? You love this game! Come on. Hmm…” She skimmed through the players on the ice reading the names and numbers on their backs “Oh! Luke Hughes number 43!” She excitedly pointed at Luke from the box “You two were awfully close as kids. How about reconnecting?” Your mother’s words did nothing except make you realize that he was back on the ice. You sat up straight in your seat basically going down on your nails at this point. “He’s got nice hair and he’s tall and-”

“Mom, shush I'm trying to watch this.” She sighed in defeat as you locked your full attention onto Luke skating around the ice. 

“You shouldn’t talk to your mother like that. I ruined my body for you, you know? I’m going to go get you a hot chocolate and we’ll see if that calms you down.” Your mom got up from her seat with your dad following close behind her.

“Yeah yeah that’s great, mom. Thanks.” Your eyes still strictly focused on Luke, whose figure was extremely small from the box. You watched as Jack passed him the puck. He skated fast as always, clearly attempting to go coast to coast taking a shot on goal, but it was ultimately saved by the goalie who returned the puck to the Ducks. You let your head hang for a moment in your hands before drawing your attention back to the game. You scooted to the edge of your seat, putting your legs back on the ground as you rested your elbows on your knees. You saw Luke skate closer to Trevors teammate, Ross Johnston. You knew immediately that he was chirping. He was chirping at a time like this. You stared closely, squinting your eyes, watching as Luke spat out a couple words to the taller and older man. You looked down and ran your hands through your hair as you let out a quiet “Oh my god.” Groaning through your words. You looked up from the floor, turning your attention back to the ice, only to see Luke being pushed up against the glass by Johnston. 

“OH MY GOD.” You practically shouted as you rose from your seat, stepping closer to the box barrier watching the scene unfold in distress. The arena’s camera pointed to Luke who was trying to talk his way out of things as usual. Luckily, his teammates had his back and swooped in quickly with the refs following close behind. You let out a sigh of relief as Johnston was pulled away from Luke. You moved back to your seat, heart just about beating out of your chest. You tilted your head behind you to see several Ducks WAGs and parents giving you confused stares. You just widened your eyes and slowly turned your head back to the game, wanting to hide yourself in your jersey. Instead you opted to pull your legs back up to your chest, resting your head on your knees. 

The game continued for another 10 minutes where Nico scored a goal to tie the game, and Luke made an assist to Jack who scored the game winning point. Your parents and everyone else in the box let out various groans and hung their heads in defeat, but you were wearing a secret smile behind your hand. No matter what it came down to, you were just proud of Luke even at the expense of your brother’s loss. People started shuffling out of the arena, including your parents who said they just wanted to make the hour drive back home and go to sleep. You told them you wanted to wait for Trevor as a cover up. You said your goodbyes to them and waited in the box for a bit longer.

lukey: Meet at my car in the parking garage. Second floor. Ily ❤️

You smiled at his message and began making your way out of the suite. All of the fans had shuffled out of the arena at this point, so you were just waiting for Luke to finish his post game interviews. Your walk to the parking garage was nicer than you expected it to be. You smiled and blushed at the way Luke looked when Jack scored the final goal. You couldn’t show it when you were sitting in the box, but you had to let out the excitement now that you were alone. The whole place that was once crowded with fans, was now almost completely empty and silent. You passed by a giant mural of Jack’s face as you walked down a hallway, and laughed to yourself about how big that guy's ego is. You made it to an elevator where you showed the security guard your pass. He looked you up and down visibly confused by your Ducks jersey paired with your Devil’s pass. He shrugged it off and let you in. You skipped your way down the parking garage until you found Luke’s car. You leaned against it, waiting for him to meet you there. After about ten minutes you finally caught sight of Luke running up to you with his duffle bag slung around his shoulder, grinning wide. His soft curls poked out the sides of his Devils baseball cap, while his black hoodie flopped up and down as he made his way over to you. He immediately engulfed you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“You did so good tonight, baby. I’m so proud of you.” You muffled through the fabric on his shoulder. 

“I love you so much. Thank you for being here.” He huffed out as he rocked your body back and forth. He let his hold strengthen as he took in the scent of your perfume which you only wore because you knew it was his favorite. 

“You have no idea how hard it was trying not to cheer when you made that pass to Jack.” You giggled through your sentence and he let out a soft laugh. He released his hold, flipping his cap backwards, and pulled you in for a kiss. His soft lips immediately washed away the anxiety that poured over you during the game. Jokingly you pushed him back.

“No! You asshole! You scared me tonight!” You giggled and pushed his chest back, as he sent you back a large grin “You have to stop chirping at guys who are bigger than you, ESPECIALLY dudes with a big temperament!” He simply laughed at your statement, wrapping an arm around your shoulder pulling you to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door for you and you stepped into your seat with the help of his hand. He wrapped an arm around you, resting his hand on the center console once you were settled. He planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“I will stop chirping the day you show up to a game in my jersey.” He whispered into your parted mouth before shutting the door and entering the driver's seat.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long for Luke to get started with you. It never did. The moment you shut the door to his apartment behind you, he had you pinned up against it. His lips placed sloppy kisses on yours which were only growing hungrier by the second. His large hands were planted on your waist making you feel like the smallest woman in the world. Your hands moved to his chest, gripping at the fabric of his hoodie, working to pull him closer. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, causing a slight moan to escape the back of your throat. He removed his lips from yours just barely to whisper “Jump.” The feel of his breath against your lips made you eager for his touch. You jumped up to let him hold you. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you through the living room like you weighed nothing. Your hands moved from his chest to the nape of his neck, allowing your fingers to explore his curls. You tugged at his hair slightly to which he responded with a low groan from his throat. He moved throughout the apartment until his back slammed on the door of his bedroom. With one hand on your ass, the other very eagerly searched for the door knob. You gently bit his bottom lip as he finally managed to get the door open. Entering the room, he laid you down on his bed, positioning himself on top of you as your legs remained around his waist pulling him further up. He removed his lips from yours and began placing a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck, until he found your sweet spot and began teething at it. You threw your head back and arched your back desperately for him.

“Need you now, Luke.” You spoke softly with each word interrupted with a breath as his hand hiked further up your leggings. You felt him grin against your neck as he moved his kisses up your jawline until he reached your ear.

“Take off this stupid fuckin’ jersey.” He whispered and his words sent a shiver down your spine as you grew hungrier for his touch. He leaned off of you slightly as you sat up for a moment to rip the Anaheim Ducks jersey off your body. He leaned back into you and began leaving kisses on the parts of your left breast that were uncovered by your bra. He moved his left hand to your stomach, letting the right one reach towards your back to unclasp the lacy bra you had worn just for him.

“OH LUKEY BOY! HOW BOUT THEM DEVS?” Jack's voice echoed throughout the apartment as you and Luke froze, staring at each other with widened eyes. He quickly jumped off of you, realizing the bedroom door had been left open. Jack always went for drinks after a win, so this was unexpected and quite unusual. Your fight or flight mode kicked in as you quickly remove yourself from the bed, shuffling under it. You watched as Luke quickly made his way out of the bedroom, shutting the door closed behind him. Jack passed him on his way to the kitchen, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Good job tonight, man. Seriously.” Jack glanced over at his brother as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Luke’s face was completely saturated with a red tint and his lips were still swollen. “You good, dude?”

“I-uh yeah i-i’m good.” Luke stuttered over his words as he straightened his posture and stuck his hands in his pocket, trying to look as natural as possible.

“Okay.” Jack laughed, taking a sip from his water bottle looking at the counter. “How’s your dick?” Jack looked back to his brother now with a mischievous smile on his face.

“It’s uh- it’s good.” Luke nodded his head, not fully processing Jack’s question “Wait, what?” He leaned against the door frame.

“It’s poking out quite a bit.” Jack’s smile only grew wider as he teased his little brother.

“What the fuck you lookin’ at my dick for?” Luke's voice comes out as frustrated and slightly guilty.

“I’m not! It’s looking at me!” Jack laughed through his sentence, taking another swig from his water bottle. Luke rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “So…who's the bunny in your room?” Jack asked, catching Luke off guard.

“W-what I d- I don’t know what you’re talking about. There's no ‘bunny’ in my room.” Luke flailed his arms out, trying his best to cover up the situation. 

“Yeah bullshit. Who’s the girl?” Jack smirked, walking closer to his brother who just shook his head. “Tell me, or I'm gonna go in there and introduce myself.” 

“No no no, Jack. You have to believe me. There’s no one in there.” Luke protested,but Jack’s hand was already on the doorknob and entering the room. Luke followed close behind him, a feeling of relief washed over when you were nowhere to be seen. “See! I told you. No girl.” Jack felt defeated for a split second, but knew not to give up as he walked towards your jersey on the floor. You silently cursed at yourself from under the bed for not grabbing itn your heart dropping straight to your stomach. 

“So, this is your Ducks jersey I'm assuming?” Jack looked over to Luke with a devilish grin, jersey in hand. Luke's hands went straight to his head, as Jack crouched down to where you were hiding under the bed. Luckily the shadows of the night were in your favor, covering your face perfectly.

“Hey queen. I’m Luke's brother, Jack. Promise I don’t bite.” He reached out his hand for you to take as you sighed, and accepted the defeat. You slowly made your way out from under the bed, your head poking out first.

“Hey, Jack Attack.” You gave him a sheepish smile as he fell back into the wall in shock. His mouth gaped wide open as he looked over to Luke, then to you, then back to Luke.

“BABY ZEGRAS?” Jack yelled at Luke as you swiped your jersey from his hand, quickly putting it back on. “Baby Zegras is your bunny?!” Jack’s glances shifted back and forth between you and Luke. “Oh my god.” Jack covered his face with his hands as he leaned his head up against the wall. “How long?” You and Luke glanced at each other, unsure of what to do at the moment. “HOW LONG? OH MY GOD!” Jack whined at the idea of the two babies from the lake house being together.

“Uh um bout a year.” Luke let out as his arms fell limp beside him.

“A YEAR?” Jack turned to face him, uncovering his face “THAT’S A LONG FUCKIN’ TIME, GUYS!” You began to bite your nails, staring down at the floor. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Luke you’re a deadman.” Luke's ears tinted pink as Jack rested his forehead against the wall.

“No no, he's not. Just please please don’t tell Trevor.” You whined at Jack, begging for the slightest bit of sympathy.

“THAT'S GONNA BE HARD CONSIDERING HE’S IN THE ELEVATOR ON HIS WAY UP HERE!” Jack muffled a scream through his spot on the wall. Your eyes widened as you looked over at Luke who had his hands on his knees, clearly stressing. 

“Holy shit.” was all you could let escape your mouth, as you heard someone knocking on the door. Jack ran out of the room to let Trevor in, as you and Luke shuffled in next to each other freaking out, like you were two kids who’d been caught by their parents. You winced at the sound of Trevor’s voice when he greeted Jack at the doorway. However it was quickly interrupted, by Jack pulling him straight towards Luke’s room.

“Trevor, let me direct you to the scene of the crime!” Jack said with a shocked, manic smile on his face. You and Luke stood there shoulder to shoulder. Both of you looked a mess.

“I don’t get it. Y/n, what are you doing here?” Trevor let out a small, confused laugh. He stood there and glanced at the two of you, trying to connect the dots in his head. You felt a hard lump in your throat as Trevor took an unbelievably long time trying to figure out what was happening.

“Oh my god, Trevor. THEY FUCKIN’!” Jack spat out, flinging his arms towards the two of you. You watched in terror as Trevor’s face grew angry, his fist charging up in the air. You quickly stepped in between him and Luke.

“NO NO NO NO! STOP! We are not ‘fuckin’! I think the two of you should sit on the couch.” You motioned the boys out of Luke’s room with him following close behind.

“Yeah, you sure have a lot of explaining to do.” Trevor huffed out as his face turned tomato red, taking his seat on the couch. You and Luke stood in front of the couch facing Trevor and Jack. Your firm gaze was planted on Trevor’s, but Luke was staring at the floor in fear that these were his last moments alive. You smacked him in the chest back into reality, as he fluffed his hair and directed his gaze towards Jack with a look that said ‘fuck you’.The two of you stood there side by side taking in the final moments of your private relationship. You looked over to Luke who gave you a soft smile and nodded his head.

“Luke and I have something to share with the two of you.” You started. Jack and Trevor moved closer to the edge of the couch wearing the same concerned expression with a hint of anger. “We are not just hooking up.” You kept your stern look on Trevor as you took Luke’s hand into yours. “We are in love.” You watched as Trevor’s mouth dropped and Jack pretended to vomit, leaning over the edge of the couch. “AND, have been…for the past year.” Trevors mouth gaped open wider as he tilted his head down, looking up at the two of you through his eyebrows. Jack began to laugh nervously at the situation, looked over to Luke, and mouthed “You’re fucked.” You and Luke glanced at each other nervously, hand in hand as Trevor stepped up from the couch and made his way towards Luke. Trevor gave him the death stare of his life, to the point where he was afraid to blink. Through Trevor’s tough exterior, you hoped there was a small part of him that just wanted you to be happy. Thankfully, you were right in your instincts and Trevor held his hand out for Luke to shake. A sigh of relief left your mouth as Luke smiled slightly, taking Trevor’s hand in his. 

“If my baby sister is gonna date an idiot, i’m glad it’s this idiot.” Your shared anxiety with Luke quickly left both of your bodies as Trevor made his way back to the couch. You looked over at each other with wide grins, realizing the part of your relationship that you both dread was finally over, and you could finally continue your lives without having to be so secretive. 

[undyinglantern]

You know, I do have exactly one aunt who I remember would explicitly choose not to shave and like. As a kid I always found that a bit strange but I never particularly thought it was gross or anything either

[ak4e7a]

making him a daddy —- enha hyung line

if you haven’t read my mother’s day special, Men I Love Fucking, click here first!

cw: all of it. all. humiliation, lactation, filming, degradation, dom!hyung line. daddy kink galore. if you don’t have one rn, you’re about to get one!

a/n: belated hbd nessa :3 jay is for u and u only <3 sorry to my freakhoon believers for edging you with this for like two weeks, it will happen again

minors dni, 18+ only.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿˚₊

heeseung literally cannot stop fucking you ever since you got pregnant—or maybe a little before that, but he’ll never admit it. what started as a one night stand when your best friend, his sister, was asleep and you “accidentally” walked in on him fucking his fist in his room quickly became a friends-with-benefits situation… or so you thought.

“fuck, baby,” he groans in your ear, his voice low so as to not make too much noise. after all, your best friend is, once again, asleep in the next room. he slides his cock in between your folds. “you keep getting so wet for me, how can i stay away from you?”

except… he kind of has to stay away from you, when you tell him you’re actually dating someone now. someone who isn’t him. heeseung doesn’t take the news too well, and honestly, he’s valid for that. he’s pissed off, to say the least.

“carrying my fucking baby and you’ve got the nerve to be with someone else?” he growls, hips smacking into your ass roughly. you clutch harder onto the pillow you’re holding, tears prickling in your eyes as he pounds into your cunt, one hand over your mouth.

“seungie—” you gasp when he moves his hand down to pinch at your swollen tits.

he tsks in your ear. “uh-uh, little bunny. that’s not what you should be calling me right now.”

“hee—” your moans are getting harder to contain as you get dangerously close to your climax. heeseung can tell, too, and he slows down his movements, even going so far as to cup your little baby bump.

“nope. try again,” he demands, the lazy drag of his cock along your gummy walls making your eyes cross in pleasure. he gives you one rough thrust when you hesitate, skimming his hand down to press right above your mound so he can feel his cock from the outside, causing you to cry out,

“daddy!”

“there we go, mama. that wasn’t so hard, was it? now tell me again. who’s your fucking daddy?”

———

jay put a ring on your finger literally hours after you showed him your positive pregnancy test. he damn near bought the entire jewelry store for you—that’s how happy he was, knowing he’d finally succeeded in successfully knocking you up. and now, in your second trimester, you’re just as happy. sprawled out on the silk sheets of your shared bed, your fiancé shows you exactly just how much he adores you.

“jay,” you whimper, staring into his eyes. his hands hold himself up above you, caging your head in. you can feel the cold metal of his rolex watch graze against your cheek as he nudges himself inside you. “i love you…”

“i love you more,” he coos back. he lets out a hiss as he bottoms out, balls pressed snugly against your ass. “my princess.”

you wiggle underneath him, desperately trying to move your hips for more friction. “need you, please, need more!”

“you have all of me, angel,” he chuckles, breath warm on your skin, the scent of his cologne flooding your sense of smell. “what more could i give you?”

you both know he’s teasing you—and torturing himself while he does it. jay has to give into you eventually. he always does, no matter what it is. his soft brown eyes flicker downwards, transfixed on the way your tits bounce as he starts to fuck you open, his thrusts somehow both gentle and rough.

you don’t even have time to ask him what he’s doing or why he’s staring so intently when he ducks his head down to take one of your nipples in his mouth and starts sucking… but it feels different this time, the sensation forcing your orgasm closer and closer. then it clicks for you. jay’s been so entranced by the way your tits have started to grow, he’d been hanging off of your every word that morning when you were complaining that you’d started lactating and needed to buy new bras.

excited at this revelation, you tease him back. “tastes good, daddy?”

you know calling him that specific name makes him rock hard. you can literally feel him somehow grow bigger inside you, forcing your walls to stretch open some more for his cock. he throbs inside you, hips stilling when he pushes his cock all the way down to the hilt, tip kissing your cervix.

“want more, daddy?” you purr, pushing your chest closer to his face. he doesn’t give you an answer, but as you feel your milk leak into his hot mouth, you take that as an enthusiastic yes.

“thank you for making me a daddy, angel girl,” he mumbles before latching on again and sucking—hard.

———

jake is absolutely nasty. besotted with his best friend’s mother? but you’re hot as fuck, can anyone blame him? can anyone truly blame him when you’ve got him on his knees, eating your pussy from behind while he strokes his cock?

“feels good, mommy?” he moans, his voice partially muffled between your legs. his nose nudges between your folds, and you gasp at how fucking messy he’s being. you don’t think this boy could get any more depraved until you feel his veiny hands grab at your asscheeks and shake them into his face.

“good, so good!” you sob into your pillow, pushing your pussy towards his tongue.

he pulls away from you, ignoring your cries of protest, grabbing his phone from where it's recording you two on the nightstand.

“need to get you on camera up close, mommy. wanna film it so i can watch it later when i need you.”

“jakey—” you begin, but you’re cut off when he begins to push the tip of his cock past your soaked folds.

“no, shh, mommy. ‘m so fuckin’ close, i gotta breed you now, wanna cum in you so bad. will you let me?”

you nod, turning your head just enough to make eye contact with your lover as he pushes himself inside you. he’s got the most fucked out, pussy drunk expression in his face, pretty eyes half lidded, pretty mouth formed in a euphoric O-shape.

“c’mon, mommy, rub your clit for me,” he whines, pumping his cock into you. "’n if i'm calling you mommy, might as well make me a daddy while we're at it, yeah? does mommy want my cum?”

“yes, please, please cum in me!” you squeal, overstimulated as you rub your clit while jake pounds against your g-spot.

“ask me properly, mommy,” he suddenly growls, fucking you harder and harder so he can cum.

“daddy, please! want your cum!”

he gives it to you, he really does. he cums deep into your cunt and pulls out, making sure that the camera catches it on film as his cum leaks out of you and down your thighs.

“hm. looks like we should try one more time just to be sure, right, mommy?”

———

sunghoon has been in a mood recently. a very particular mood; one that has you pinned on the bed in a mating press every night when he comes home from work. you’ve noticed lately that your younger boyfriend— “i’m only three years younger than you,” he likes to argue— has taken a liking to wearing neckties to work, knotting them over the collar of his pristine white button down shirts that fit so nicely over his muscular arms.

now his black prada tie is knotted around your wrists, stacked behind your back while you’re draped over his lap, squirming uncontrollably, skirt flipped up to expose you to him.

"oh, these are cute, baby. you wear them for me? you look so pretty in pink."

you hum in response and he spanks you right where you need him most.

"that's not an answer, brat. use your words."

"y-yes sunghoon! 's for you!!"

he's so condescending when he replies, "what a smart little girl you are. manipulative little brat. wearing my favorite color, acting all whiny and desperate for me since you begged me to come home early from work not one hour ago..."

"you're the one who came running," you snap back, annoyed at his teasing. wrong move. he effortlessly lifts you up off his lap and onto the bed. he pushes your panties to the side and slides his cock inside you all the way, with no time for you to ease into the stretch.

"you fucking brat. am i gonna have to punish you all night to put you in your place? want me to fuck you and dump my load in your pathetic little cunt and leave you to finish yourself off? because i will, little girl. don't forget who's the only one who can make you cum this hard."

you try to fuck yourself on his cock and he's not having it at all. "brat, what did i just say? disobedient fucking slut, all you want is my cock. apologize to me and beg, and maybe i'll make you squirt all over me and this fucking bed."

"s-sorry hoonie..."

his hand comes crashing down on your ass.

"pathetic. try again, pretty."

"i'm sorry daddy, i'm sorry for being a brat!"

"fucking hell, princess, you beg so sweetly. you want me to fuck you full of my cum? want me to knock you up and parade you around in front of everyone, let them know who you belong to?"

you pout at him, batting your eyelashes the way you know he can't resist. "please, daddy?”

“that’s a good girl. you better remember who’s in charge the next time you wanna brat out on me, hm?”

[cherubharrington]

Melting

Part 1

Authors note: sorry if this is straight ass and it’s also not edited at all. Just straight from my dome.

Your mom had let him in, unbeknownst to her, that you two had fought. Rafe looked around your family home. The stark contrast from the home you had with him, it was more cozy. Smaller too. He had to duck to get in. And he couldn’t help but notice your cute brother and sister running around, trying to catch each other.

“Hola Rafe!” Your sister Bella says.

“Hey munchkin.” He says, endearingly. He’s shocked on how much she looks just like you. Same hair, same eyes, same smile. Your sister was like a mini you. You both looked like your mom.

“She’s in her room.” Your mom says warmly, she pointed down the hall for him. He smiled and thanked her, walking down the hall. His heart was harming in his chest. This could go either way really. And he was worried you wouldn’t forgive him.

He knocked on the door once.

“Estoy busy mami!” You yelled from inside the room, his heart leaped at the sound of your voice.

“Uh-it’s me…Rafe.” Silence engulfs the space, it takes a minute before you open the door and stare at him.

“How—

“Your mom let me in.” He says simply, he looks at you, doing a once over. His eyes seeing you in a pointelle pajama set. Your hair is loose and draping your shoulders. He sucks in a breath, you always looked beautiful to him. The way that you dressed, the person you were, the way that you looked. Everything about you enamored him.

“Hi.” He says softly, his hands in his pockets. You still haven’t spoken, your eyes scanning him as well.

“Hi.” You say coldly. His heart broke at the way you spoke to him. But he deserved it. Especially after the way he treated you. He swallowed thickly.

“Can we please talk?” He asks. Your eyes look away from him. Staring at anything in your room. But him.

“No.”

His heart shattered, he couldn’t help but let a tear roll down his face.

“Come on baby, please.”

“Don’t call me that” you say a little too harshly, you wince at your own tone

“But you are my baby, you are.” He closes the distance between you. He grabs your face into his hands.His thumb trancing your cheek.

“I’m sorry okay, for everything. From the way I spoke about you to Ruthie and Topper. Shit from kicking the suitcase from you. I shouldn’t have forced you to stay.” He takes a sharp exhale in.

“Rafe—

“I know, I know I shouldn’t have done that. I was upset and my emotions were all over the place.”

You shook your head at him, “It’s fine Rafe. Really.”

He shook his own head in turn. “No none of it was okay. If you wanted to come home to your parents I should have let you.”

Silence engulfs you once more, your eyes still not meeting his.

“I was just scared of losing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” His blue eyes meets your eyes. A pleading look engraved in his.

“I’m not coming back Rafe.” You say simply but those words shatter his heart in pieces. Tears are falling down his face now. He’s holding onto you like a life line.

“You don’t mean that. I made a stupid mistake. I’m an idiot. Please.” He pleads, but you still continue to shake your head at him.

“Don’t do this, please. I love you okay. I see a future with you. With kids, like your siblings.” He points towards the door, out to where your siblings are laughing and playing around.

“Rafe—

“Please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”He gets on his knees, he’s tall enough that he still can wrap his arms around your waist and his head almost reaching your chest.

Tears are falling down your face now, your eyes not staring back at his.

“Rafe, stop.”

“No.” His voice is muffled by the fact that his face is pressed to your chest. You can feel his tears going onto your shirt. You hear him hiccup.

“It’s been two weeks baby. You haven’t called or texted me. Two-Two weeks without you. Your hugs, your kisses, your love, and your smile. I can’t do it anymore. It’s killing me baby.” He’s kissing your stomach now, his face pressing closer to you.

“Rafe, please. Get up.” He shakes his head rapidly, you can hear his sobs. He hugs you tighter, not letting go.

“B-baby, please. Don’t leave me. Please. I can’t, I can’t do this without you. It feels pointless.”

You want to be harsh, a part of you does. The more hurt part. To tell him that his friends would be ashamed of him for how he’s crying over a pogue. On his knees no less. How they’d be embarrassed of him. But the more tender part of you, the one that loves him. Is more overbearing.

“Rafe—

“Don’t, I can’t hear you say that you’re not coming home to me. That you don’t want to be with me anymore. I can’t.” He’s rubbing his face on your chest.

At first you had your hands up in the air. Not wanting to touch him. But after awhile, you can’t help but put your hands on him. Trying to soothe him. Your hands running through his buzzcut. Feeling like mowed grass. It’s a silly thought. But you suppressed a laugh.

“I’ll do anything. I told them that you are my girlfriend. That I am with you. That we’re building a life together. Please, don’t throw that away baby. Please.”

The hurt part of you wants to slash his dreams. Make him pay for how he made you feel. But the loving part is hogging up the space.

“Rafe seriously get up.” You say, he does so but slowly. He eyes you like a puppy. Awaiting punishment. His hands are still on you. His hands still on your stomach as he reaches his full height. You look up at him, tears falling down your face.

“This is hard for me to do, okay.” He looks at you, his face is all scrunched up. He’s hurting, you can tell.

“It doesn’t have to be, baby.” He says, his hands moving up to cup your face. “I want to be with you. And only you. No one else compares. I-I need you.”

You don’t know how to respond. This was the last thing you’ve expected to happen. You never knew he would just show up in your doorway. Wanting to repair things. But he was Rafe. That’s exactly the kind of person he was.

“Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll even propose right now. If that’s what you want.” He sounds so broken and you want nothing more to hug him. To kiss those tears away.

But you don’t know how to respond. What to do, you’re confused. You’re so scared of getting burned.

“Please, say something. I need to know you still want this.” He’s hiccuping again, this time more consistent.

“I don’t know Rafe.” He brings your head up so you can meet each others eyes.

“I’ll even go to therapy. I’ll change. Please. I’ll do anything for you to come back. If I have to get on one knee and show you how serious I am. I will.”

You’re taken back by how serious he is. How adamant he is about you. Suddenly, you feel him get on one knee.

“Y/n l/n…

“Rafe, I don’t—

“Will you please marry me?”

The words feel like they’ve been sucker punched out of you.

Finally, you get the courage to speak.

“Rafe, stop. Get up.” He does as you say, mournfully.

“I mean it though.”

“Rafe, you’re not asking me to marry you as a way for me to forgive you.” He shakes his head, his eyes filmed with tears.

“I-I, fuck I wasn’t doing it for that.” He reaches for you again. You’re surprised your mom hasn’t come in to say something yet. Maybe she knows…

“Look, I love you. So much. And I can’t imagine a life without you. I want to be better person for you. I know, I know it sounds cliche. But I promise, I mean it.”

You stare into his blue eyes, sucked in like they were a tide trying to bring you in.

“You have to really mean it, Rafe. No bullshit. Or this is done.” He nods adamantly, his hands touching yours. Rubbing circles.

“I am, I am I promise. I’ll do anything to make things right with you.” He eyes you, his face so scrunched up, you want to grab his face and kiss him.

“I forgive you… but you do or say something about me like that again… it’s done. Forever.”

He nods, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

“I won’t be dumb again, I promise.” You wrap your own arms around his waist. Unable to meet him at his full height to wrap your arms around his neck.

“So about marriage…” he says after a while, you just giggle unable to hold it in anymore.

“We are of age…” You say

@roseshopper here you go!

[icypopz]

bathing with them ♡

↬ request from anon ; Hiiii may I pls request the love and deepspace boys with a reader who loves taking baths with them??

↬ notes ; rafayel, xavier, zayne x gn!reader

↬ from ice ; ice active era?! jk we all know i'm lying atp HAHAHA but here's my annual post which is also my first post for LADS :> i changed the prompt a bit but i hope u enjoy !

↬ warning(s) ; tiny spoilers for rafayel's backstory, xavier's is like microscopically suggestive

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

[ rafayel ! ]

rafayel absolutely adores taking baths with you, even though he loves to tease you about being too clingy (he's actually the clingy one, but he'll never admit it for the world). he loves just chilling in the bathtub with you, especially on winter nights where he'll pull you closer in the hot water, complaining that "i need more warmth! protect me from the cold, miss bodyguard!"

he would get playfully annoyed when you joke about wanting to see his mermaid tail when he gets into the bathtub, scolding you about how lemurians also have powers to lure humans in and he'll be doing that to you if you don't get in the bath with him "right now!" also rafayel doesn't really like rubber ducks, he says it's weird that humans like to put toys like that in the water when they could just go swim in a lake if they wanted to see ducks. but! he does love bubble baths, he loves to put the bubbles in your hair, and when you make a beard for him with the foam, he finds it the cutest ever.

rafayel definitely has like several hundred bottles of soap, shampoo and conditioner in varying scents, claiming that their fragrance was so inspiring he just had to buy all of them. (the truth is, he wasn't sure which one you'd like so he just bought everything.) it's really helpful for when you stay over at his place though, you don't have to worry about packing a vanity case because he keeps everything ready for you, from your favourite toothpaste to a spare toothbrush. he also loves seeing you wrapped up in a towel, he thinks you look so adorable.

more content utc !

[ xavier ! ]

xavier isn't picky, he doesn't mind using either a bathtub or a shower, but after you visit him a couple of times, you definitely tell him he should use the shower instead. he always ends up falling asleep while he's soaking in the bathtub! he definitely loves showering with you though, he'll always do stuff like scrub your back or help comb through your tangled hair without you needing to ask. but it's almost impossible for both of you to bathe quickly, because you always end up getting distracted. who can you blame you though? it's not your fault xavier is so muscled from all his training!

xavier is the type who showers in freezing cold water, but he's willing to compromise if you don't like that. he ends up realising that hot water is more fun because he gets to write silly messages and draw hearts for you on the glass since it gets fogged up from the steam. also xavier's brain would totally crash the first time he showered with you, it would be that one tender night card all over again except better LOL. he's just that obsessed with you, you're the prettiest person with the best personality he's ever seen!

xavier would be one of those guys that has like the '10-IN-1! SHAMPOO, CONDITIONER, SOAP!' soap bottles. it's not that he isn't bothered about hygiene, he just finds it a lot simpler to use one single bottle for everything, and it evidently works for him since his skin is so clear and his hair is so fluffy. but ever since you've started staying over, xavier takes note of your favourite soaps and stocks up on them (especially after you tease him for that pitiful bottle of soap in his bathroom - he's the type to squeeze out every single last drop of soap from the tube so the bottle definitely looks like it has been through The Horrors).

[ zayne ! ]

zayne would usually prefer showering over bathing usually, because he's used to maximising time for work in his schedule, so he likes everything in his personal life to be extremely efficient. but once he starts dating you, that does kind of change. on days where he doesn't have to rush into work for urgent cases, or nights after a hectic day, he enjoys relaxing with you in the bathtub - it's a little slice of heaven for him to have you pressed up against him in the warm water.

zayne likes using his evol to tease you while you're showering. though he isn't usually a playful person and his humour is quite dry, the intimacy of being in such close proximity to him makes him act up a little LOL. so when you ask him to soap your back or anything like that, he'll purposely make his fingertips cold so you shiver when he touches you. "zayne!" you'll scold him, and he'll just let out a soft chuckle before doing what you actually asked him to.

zayne would just have the bare minimum essentials in his bathroom, but i also think he would be the type to buy in bulk so he only has to go out shopping once in a while. this way, when his soap runs out he can just get a new bottle from his cupboard. he likes going into his bathroom and seeing little traces of you all over the room, like your toothbrush in his cup or your favourite soap on his shelf - it makes him happy because it's like a reminder of you even when you aren't there.

✧ thank you for reading ! if you have a request, feel free to send it in 🌠

© icypopz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way.

[saistappen]

Paddock guests | MV1

In which you and your class visited Max at the track in Zandvoort.

warning : This is the second part of 'special guest' and you don't have to read the first part first, but it might make it easier for you because of the connections in this part. You can also find 'special guest' on my profile :)

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

ALL EYES are on you and your class as you enter the paddock in a row of ducks.

Until now, it has never happened that countless six-year-olds in Red Bull merchandise and paddock passes around their necks have entered the paddock together with their teacher.

But that changes today. Having plucked up the courage a few days ago to save Max's number and thank the Dutchman for a great day in the lion class, you didn't expect the three-time world champion to invite the whole class into the paddock as a thank you.

"It's important that we all stay together. As you can see, the paddock is quite large and spacious, so we all have to stay very close together to get to the Red Bull Garage, okay? ", you look at your pupils one by one with a smile.

You can clearly see the beaming faces of your protégés and the anticipation of the day ahead.

Today is Friday, so there won't be too much happening at the track this weekend, so this is the perfect day for Max to show the six-year-olds where he works.

In a video message sent directly to the Lion class, he thanked them for the great day at school and invited all the students to his garage to take a look behind the scenes.

You're also looking forward to seeing everything up close, so you can hardly wait to walk over to Red Bull and marvel at everything up close.

"Then let's get going," you indicate to your charges with a smile.

As it is impossible to keep an eye on all the children alone in this spacious paddock, you are accompanied by a nice Red Bull employee who introduced himself as Mason a few minutes ago.

You're grateful to Mason not only for helping you keep the kids together, but also for guiding you through the paddock and getting you to your destination.

Because if you're honest, you wouldn't find this way on your own. The paddock already looks pretty big and expansive from the TV, but in real life it looks twice as big, so if you didn't have a clue, you'd be one hundred per cent lost.

Mason starts to run off in front, while the rows of two that the children have formed follow the Red Bull employee and you bring up the rear so as not to lose any children in the hustle and bustle.

Every now and then, a few employees or even drivers cross your path, who give you a big smile and greet and wave to your protégés in a friendly manner.

It doesn't take long before Mason comes to a halt in front of the Red Bull Hospitality and all the children gather in a semi-circle around Mason.

"We've reached our first destination. This is the Red Bull Hospitality. This is where we stay from time to time when Formula 1 is on a break..." While Mason begins to explain a little to the children, you start to take a few photos with your mobile phone to capture today's event not only for you, but also for the children.

"Max has another appointment, so it will be a while before he can show you all round. But I see you've all got rucksacks with you, which must contain your breakfast, right? " the Red Bull employee adds as you walk up the small ramp to the hospitality centre and shortly afterwards the sliding doors open to reveal a large room with countless tables and chairs.

A loud chorus of 'yes' answers Mason, who indicates to the children that they should find a place to have a snack to tide them over while Max has something to do.

You smile gratefully at Mason when the dark-haired man presses a coffee into your hand a few seconds later.

"The little ones are really adorable, " Mason enthuses as he sits down at a table opposite you.

Your students are sitting around you, talking excitedly and eating their breakfast.

" Yes, isn't it? " you smile and wrap your hands around the cup before taking a sip of the hot liquid. " It's really great of Max to make this possible for you. "

"Max is a really warm person, " Mason smiles and shortly afterwards starts to engage you in conversation, which you're really grateful for.

Because it's not just your class that's pretty excited and nervous about what's going to happen in the next few lessons. You are also really nervous and excited, but you try your best not to let it show.

—

"I hope the garage has room for you all," Mason turns to you and your class with a grin as he continues walking backwards.

You all sat in the hospitality centre for about an hour, where you ate breakfast in the back and then the children were allowed to ask Mason a few questions about the team and his duties.

Mason is part of the mechanic crew who look after the car before and after the sessions.

The children have listened attentively to his stories during the last lesson.

But now, the closer you get to the actual destination, you clearly realise how excited your charges actually are.

A smile plays around your lips as Mason starts to walk down the dark blue corridor towards the garage and begins to tell the children that Max and Sergio Perez always walk along this path to get to their cars.

A few seconds later, you finally reached your actual destination. The garage.

The six-year-olds fill the garage with amazement as they see the two blue cars for the first time.

A broad grin appears on your lips as you realise where you actually are. So far you've only ever seen this view from the sofa on your television and now you're actually standing here.

Apart from a few mechanics who have gathered at the front wing and seem to be making a few preparations, the garage is empty.

"As you can see, Max's car is on the left and Checo's car is on the right. Can anyone tell me what makes the two cars different? " Mason looks round with a smile, from which countless index fingers shoot up.

" Max' is faster! " Milan shouts formally after Mason takes his turn. Loud children's laughter from the class fills the garage.

"Milan..." you almost admonish the blond-haired man. Not because it's true, but because it makes you a little uncomfortable that Milan is more or less rubbing salt in the wound, because everyone knows that things aren't going as well for 'Checo' as they are for Max at the moment.

The Red Bull employee begins to scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment and seems to be struggling with the words. However, he can't seem to think of a suitable answer, so he looks relieved when Max suddenly appears.

The children happily start shouting the Dutchman's name, who gives each child a high five and then gives you a friendly smile, which you return.

" I'm glad you all came! " Max begins as he stands in front of the children and Mason disappears from the centre of attention and goes back to work. "As you probably already know, you're now in the place where I spend a lot of time. How about we take a closer look at my car? "

With a wave of his hand, Max gestures for everyone to come a little closer so that he can show the children his car in more detail and answer a few questions.

Excited, everyone moves a little closer to the car.

"Make sure you don't get too close to the car, will you? You remember what I told you this morning, don't you? " you ask the group.

"Don't touch other people's things!" your class shouts back in chorus, causing a proud smile to spread across your lips and Max looks over at you.

His lips form a wordless 'thank you' before he crouches down to be a little more at eye level with the children and shortly afterwards he begins to explain everything about the car and answer questions.

—

" Thank you very much for your efforts, " you thank Max as the Dutchman comes over to you.

A few minutes ago, you stood a little apart in the box so that you weren't in the way but also didn't lose sight of your class.

"Always a pleasure," Max smiles as he leans against the wall next to you and you look over at your class and Checo.

During Max's detailed explanations of his car, Checo joins in later and now the Mexican takes over to explain the steering wheel to the children in detail.

Sergio sits on a folding chair with the steering wheel in his hand, while the class sits in a semicircle around him on the floor and listens attentively to his words.

" It's really not a matter of course that you invited us all here. That really wouldn't have been necessary," you begin. You are really grateful for what Max does for you and especially for your class.

"It's nice to see the little lions again. And so I also have a reason to see your great teacher again. " Max winks slightly at you, causing the warmth to start shooting up your cheek.

Embarrassed, you brush a strand of hair out of your face and then slowly raise your eyes to look at the Dutchman.

Max's blue eyes are fixed on your face as his lips curve into a smile.

" I mean that seriously, " he adds.

" U-uh... thank you?" you stammer, almost caught off guard. Max's words were so surprising that you didn't even come close to having a perfect answer.

But that 'Uhm, thank you' didn't even make it any better in your mind.

The Dutchman, however, seemed to take this quite calmly, as a grin appeared on his lips.

"I didn't think I would succeed in making you so embarrassed. " Max takes a step closer to you so that you can clearly smell his aftershave.

Without meaning to, warmth begins to gather in your body, causing a warm feeling to spread through your whole body.

"But you succeeded. " Your voice almost sounds like a whisper, so you're not sure whether Max has understood your words at all, as children's laughter can be heard in the background.

" Max! Come here, you have to take over again," Checo calls out just as the Dutchman opens his mouth and starts talking.

"We'll talk later, " Max says in your direction, before he runs over to Checo and, together with Checo, begins to explain the racing gear to the children and, shortly afterwards, one or two of the children put on Max's and Checo's helmets.

And while Max sinks back into his element and makes sure that the children have an unforgettable day, your thoughts are permanently with Max and his words, which you won't be able to get out of your head any time soon.

—

Countless new impressions and information and a completed first free practice session, which you and your class followed live, the day of your visit to the paddock at Zandvoort slowly comes to an end.

A satisfied but also exhausted smile is on your lips as you watch Max hug each child goodbye and have a few kind words for each of them.

You’ve been impressed all day today by how well the Dutchman has dealt with the children and how much time he has really taken for each of them, even though he has a tight schedule and is certainly quite exhausted.

It's sweet to see how some children wrap their arms tightly around the Dutchman and don't want to let him go.

Even for these children, he takes extra time to talk to them quietly and whisper a few words that you don't understand.

And then the Dutchman is suddenly standing in front of you, while all the children are already waiting with Mason at the exit of the paddock.

"Thanks again, Max. Not just for today but also for the visit to the class. That really meant a lot to us, especially the children," you thank the Dutchman again.

"I was happy to do that," he replies with a smile and pulls you into his strong arms to say goodbye, which takes you rather by surprise.

It takes you a few seconds to break out of your little stupor and carefully wrap your arms around his middle.

"I hope we meet again. You've got my number," he whispers in your ear as he hugs you a little closer.

"We will," you assure him.

A tingling sensation begins to awaken in your body and your whole body is slightly electrified.

But before you can really savour the feeling, the Dutchman has already pulled out of the embrace.

"Then I hope you won't say no to that. "

Confused, you look at Max, who pulls something out of the back pocket of his trousers and shortly afterwards presses another Paddock Pass into your hand.

You frown in confusion. The Paddock Pass in Max's hand looks exactly like the one you already have around your neck. What is he trying to say?

Max must clearly see your confusion, because the Dutchman begins to grin slightly before he starts to speak.

" I'd like to see you in the paddock for the next two days so that we can spend some more time together. But only if you want to, of course. "

He starts to scratch the back of his neck nervously while he waits for your answer.

" I'd love to! " you say quickly as you take off your paddock pass and hang it around your neck.

And if someone had told you back then that it was the beginning of a relationship, you certainly wouldn't have believed a word they said.

[oneforthemunny]

surprise, surprise |eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie forgets your birthday. or maybe he doesn't.

my birthday is in a few days and i wanted to write a little birthday ficlet blurb :) no aus, just eddie.

contains: angst/fluff. birthday doom. kinda asshole eddie?? kinda asshole friends?? really fluffy sweet ending. language.

“So,” Heather leaned over, chin propped in her hands dramatically slumped over the counter. “What’re you doing this weekend?” 

“Nothing,” You hummed, fingers flicking through the crinkled bills. “Why? You know something fun going on?” 

“It’s your birthday.” Heather gawked playfully. “You’re not doing anything for your birthday?” 

You rolled your eyes lightly, pushing the cash drawer closed. “No.” You shook your head, voice tight. 

“Eddie isn’t taking you out?” Heather’s brows furrowed. “Or you’re not going home? Going out? Are you getting a cake?” 

Your heart sank, a familiar burn rising in your chest. You didn’t speak about your birthday much, not much of an occasion for celebration to you, more of one that was dreadful. Another year closer to death, you’d grumble cynically. Still, when Eddie hadn’t even acknowledged it, when your friends had all blown you off for other plans, a new kind of ache formed in your chest. The sting of being forgotten, of being unimportant and discarded- on your birthday. 

It left a bitter taste on your tongue, sardonic and painful when you spoke about your impending birthdate. “No,” You shook your head, chin ducked to your chest. You had never wanted a customer to come in so badly, save you from this painful conversation with your co-worker. “They’re all busy.” 

“Oh.” Heather quipped, face falling at your tone. 

“I mean, it’s my fault.” You added quickly- defensively. Why you were so defensive over the people who had discarded you so easily, you weren’t sure. “I should have planned something earlier, but… I dunno, I got busy and life got super hectic and it just slipped past me-” 

“-No,” Heather shook her head, curls unmoving with the abundance of Aquanet she used, still. “That’s really shitty of them, all of them. It’s your birthday.” 

You stayed silent, wiping the counter half heartedly, swallowing back the familiar burn in your throat that choked you. “I mean, if it was my girlfriend or my friend, I would be buggin’ about their birthday.” Heather shrugged. 

“Yeah, me too.” You muttered. Bouts of memories pouring back into your mind. How you’d planned a party for Eddie, baked him some stupid cake from scratch that was in the Lord of the Rings. You’d gone to countless second hand stores trying to find the ancient recipe, and it took you a day to perfect. Now, he couldn’t even be bothered to take you out? Get you a cheap store bought cake? 

“I’m sorry.” Heather muttered, a solemn, nearly guilty pout on her lips. “Well, you’re off tomorrow, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I get off at three. What if we go out? We can go to the bar- oh, there’s this new band playing in Franklin. Tommy could drive us.” Heather, ever the bubbly optimist, grinned, eyes shining with pride. It was endearing, made your heart squeeze with an ache you weren’t quite sure how to describe. 

“I’ll even get you a cupcake. A good one, from Nadia’s.” Heather added. 

“You don’t have to do that.” You shook your head lightly. You and Heather were work friends, hung out on the rare occasion after work to bitch about work, about the other coworkers, the pain-in-the-ass customers of the day over glasses of Pinot. Selfishly, it felt nice to have someone excited for your birthday. 

You hated that you wished it was Eddie, your own friends. 

“What’s your flavor, hm? Chocolate?” Heather pressed, brushing you off cheerily. 

“Don’t get me a cupcake. I’ll throw it up if we’re drinking. All the icing and liquor.” You snarled your nose playfully. 

“Fine. I’m buying you a drink then.” Heather nodded. She paused, nails drumming on the counter too. “And, I mean, if you want Eddie to come too, of course he’s invited.” Her eyes cut to yours carefully. “I didn’t know if you wanted him to come.” 

“I mean, I don’t know if he’d even be able to.” Your lips pursed, a cutting edge of annoyance in your tone. “He’s so busy.” 

Heather cringed, shooting you an apologetic look. “Yeah, that… I’m sorry, that sucks.” She mumbled. 

A stiff silence fell between the two of you over the whirr of the air conditioning blowing through the vents. “Since it’s so dead, why don’t you go early?” Heather suggested. “I can cover closing.” 

“Heather, Mel will be pissed-” 

“-Mel will be pissed if she has to pay both of us for standing around.” Heather gave you a pointed look. “And you came in before me. I got it.” 

“Are you sure?” You hesitated. “I don’t care to stay in case there’s a rush-” 

“-At seven?” Heather scoffed slightly. “Go. I’ve got it.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. I’ll call you when I’m on my way, ‘kay?” Heather chirped. 

“See you then.” You waved, cringing at the sing-songy Happy birthday! Heather shouted at you. 

You pulled open your cubby, gathering your purse, your umbrella. You wrote your time on the clipboard, the phone taunting you on the hook next to it. Any other day, you’d call Eddie- call home or the shop, wherever he was, just to let him know you’d be home early. He’d always reply with a silly comment that had your cheeks rushing with heat, warmth swelling in your chest. 

Tonight, you decided against it. He was too busy, anyway. Too busy at the shop, with his friends, at band practice. You tried not to dwell on it, let your mind spiral and spin down a damning dark hole of what ifs. It consumed you anyways, on your drive home, the radio playing on a static filled station that you didn’t bother to change. Background noise drowned out by your own hammering heart. 

Eddie’s van was parked in the gravel of his driveway, leaving just enough space for you to slide in under the covering attached to the trailer. He always let you have that spot, closer to the door, protected from the elements- so considerate. 

It was hard to fathom that it was the same boy who had forgotten your birthday, brushed it off like it was just another day. 

Your throat tightened around the ever growing lump, hands tight from the white knuckled grip you had on the wheel when you turned the keys out of the ignition. The stairs squeaked under your weight, the screen door hissing with the familiar soft screech when you pulled it open. 

“No- Henderson, what the fuck is the matter with you?” Eddie huffed, his voice trailing in from the living room. 

You paused, hand catching the door as it fell, quieting it as it latched. The air was thick, warm with a sticky, sweet smell. Music playing in a low hum from Eddie’s beloved boom box he kept in the living room. 

“You said to hang it!” Dustin’s shrill tone cut through the air. 

“Yeah, hang it high- Jesus Christ, I shoulda just waited until Robin got off.” Eddie was hidden by the wall, but you could practically see him pinching his nose, hand running over his curly bangs. “Can you- Can you go see if we can ice the cake yet?” 

“Yeah, what do I do?” Dustin questioned, a silence falling between the two of them. Your lips curled, swallowing a giggle. “What? I’m not a master chef or something. You act like I should know this. There wasn’t a cake making class-” 

“-There was, you moron. Home Ec, which clearly, you failed.” Eddie huffed in annoyance. You froze at his heavy footsteps, voice carrying closer and closer.“Whatever, can you- just make it look nice in here? Put the rest of the streamers up and- shit!” Eddie flinched, jumping at the sight of you in the doorway. Wide eyed and still, like you’d been caught. 

“Baby,” Eddie’s breath startled. “Hey, uh, what are you- you said you didn’t get- you’re home already?” His voice lifted, carried high in a squeak of surprise. 

“Yeah, I got off early. I thought you were working late.” Your brows furrowed at the tear of plastic, leaning to look around the corner. “What are you doing-” 

“-Don’t look in there.” Eddie snapped, his hand falling on the doorframe, arm blocking your vision. You jumped, glaring at him with annoyance. “I thought you closed tonight?” 

“I thought you closed tonight.” You huffed, arms crossing over your chest. “Clearly that’s not true. What is this? Another campaign night?” You rolled your eyes, body burning with irritation, jaw wound tight with it. 

“What? N-No, I-I thought you wouldn’t be home until later, and I’d have more time-” Eddie rambled, side stepping to block your view behind him. 

“-Ed, I don’t care if that’s what it is.” Your shoulders deflated, a wave of painful exhaustion, disappointment falling over you. “I just wish you would’ve let me know before you invite all these people over to play your game, so I could-” A shimmering glimmer of multicolored sequins caught your eyes, shining in the yellowed light of the kitchen, iridescent hued droplets cast over the cabinets. There, draped over the chair in bright, glittering letters, a small sash that read Happy Birthday! in obnoxiously big letters. 

You paused, eyes scanning towards the cake, cooling on the rack next to the mixing bowl of icing, the icing spatula still in it. Paper mache streamers taped to the ceiling, hung in swooping bouts mixed with the shiny streamers and balloons all the way to the living room. Eddie had brought out the folding table from the crawl space, even put a plastic tablecloth from the store over it to hide the yellowing stains that would never fade. 

Dustin’s eyes met yours, wide and darting between you and Eddie, still holding the roll of streamers he’d yet to hang. “Uh, Happy Birthday?” Dustin shrugged. 

Eddie huffed, shaking his head at him. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry, it was supposed to be a surprise.” Eddie’s foot bounced with anxious adrenaline. “I thought you didn’t get off until eight, and-and I had it all planned, sweetheart, I really did. Steve’s getting the pizza, and everyone’s coming over at seven thirty-ish, and I- I was even going to have them park at Wayne’s in the back so you wouldn’t see.” 

Your chest felt deflated, void of any air, words, anything. Eddie chewed on his lip, hands twitching next to his jeans. “It was going to be this whole thing, fuck!” He huffed. “It was going to be a whole big thing, and…” 

Eddie’s heart leapt when your eyes finally met his. His fingers still drummed against the rough material of his jeans, veins filled with icy excitement, fear, anticipation? He wasn’t sure. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, stepping to hover over you, voice dropping to a soft coo, hands sliding over your cheeks. “I’m- I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

You swallowed thickly. Eddie’s touch was soft, but it left you with a tingling burn when his thumb delicately traced your cheek bone. “You- This is for me?” You squeaked. 

Eddie’s lips curled in a half smile, brows creasing. “Well, yeah.” He said playfully. “Who else would it be for?” 

Your brain was deafeningly silent, stunned at every new detail you’d discover. “You said you were busy.” Was all you could muster out, blinking up at Eddie. “You said you had to work late.” 

“I might have fibbed a little.” Eddie tilted his head sillily. “Told a little lie so I could get this set up.” He nodded towards the living room, a balloon floating near the doorway. 

“I just really wanted to surprise you.” Eddie’s shoulders fell. “I was trying to outdo you. Tryna out do what you did for mine. I called all your friends- even Alexandra,” You rolled your eyes at the mention, she was Eddie’s least favorite friend of yours. 

“And I… I just wanted to surprise you.” Eddie blinked down at you. “Just wanted your day to be special.” 

Your day, the phrase wrapped around you, swirled through your veins like a warm hug, squeezing your heart. 

“I’m sorry, it… I didn’t think about work.” Eddie shook his head, running a hand over his forehead. “I didn’t even think about it, and I-” 

“-Eddie,” Your voice caught in your throat. 

Eddie tensed, cringing with expectant dread. He’d ruined it, blew it, the tears were coming and they were deserved. You’d done so well on his, surprised the hell out of him with the cake, decorated for his birthday campaign with lanterns and candles you’d thrifted. Gone all out for him, and he couldn’t even pull off a simple surprise party. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, head pressing to yours. His eyes cut around the room, making sure a certain Henderson pest was lurking. 

“Sorry?” You repeated. “Eddie, I-I am surprised.” You choked out, looking around the room with gleaming eyes. 

Eddie paused. “You are?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, I thought you’d forgotten.” You admitted. “I thought everyone had forgotten.”  

Eddie’s brows pinched in a confused scowl. “You thought I’d forget?” He muttered. 

A watery laugh fell from your lips before you could stop it. “Yeah.” You admitted. “You were really convincing.” 

Eddie’s chest boasted playfully. “Oscar worthy?” 

“You’d sweep the competition.” You jested back, arms sliding over his forearms. His hands found home on the small of your waist, pulling you into him. 

“I didn’t forget your birthday.” Eddie said softly. “Just… for the record.” 

“I can see that.” You giggled. “Thank you. It’s-It’s really sweet.” 

“Yeah? I’m glad you like it.” Eddie’s hands rubbed down your spine. “It would look better but… Robin and Nancy didn’t get off until later, and it’s just me and Henderson.” 

“It looks great. Perfect.” Your cheek pressed to the soft cotton of his t-shirt. His nice shirt, Eddie always called it. Broke it out for special occasions. 

“Not perfect. Fucked up the main part.” Eddie grumbled. “I can call everyone, let them know that they can park out front since there’s no surprise anymore.” 

“No, don’t do that.” You shook your head lightly, chin propping against his chest to look up at him. “I’ll leave and come back, and you can still do it. I can pretend to be surprised.” 

Eddie’s lips curled, pulling back to look down at you. “You’re gonna pretend?” He tilted his head. 

“My turn to act.” You teased, brow lifting gently. “Give you some competition.” You poked his tummy playfully. 

Eddie grinned, pulling you back into him, lips sliding over yours in a soft kiss you savored. Melting into each other, fusing into a gooey puddle- it was corny, a cliche. One you’d roll your eyes at if it was anyone else. 

“Happy birthday.” Eddie muttered, lips brushing and tickling your own. 

“Thank you.” You whispered back, hands finding the base of his neck, pushing him back into you. Eddie’s hand fell against the wooden door frame, steadying himself in a rapidly heating makeout. 

“Uh,” Dustin’s voice interrupted the two of you, just as Eddie’s hands were sliding under your work blouse. “Yeah, I-I finished with the streamers.” 

Eddie glared at him, jaw ticking in annoyance when you pulled away. “I’m just going to grab my makeup bag, and I’ll go.” You whispered, cheeks flooding with heat. 

Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes at Dustin when you left. “What? What did I do?” Dustin threw his hands out. 

“Such a fuckin’ cock block, Henderson.” Eddie muttered, stomping into the kitchen. “Put the plates and shit out, will ya?” 

Your performance was Oscar worthy, Eddie decided later, when you stepped through the door of the now darkened trailer, gasping when the lights flickered on and everyone jumped out. You looked positively radiant, glowing with excitement at the small crowd of friends crammed into the doorway. Eddie kissed you, sloppier than he should have, especially in front of everyone, but he didn’t care. Overwhelmed with affection for you. 

He couldn’t tell if you were still pretending when he brought out the cake, the room singing in a harmonious tone to you, candles lit and glowing in the dim light. Eddie didn’t miss the way your eyes sparkled, fingers pressed to your lips at the now iced cake. When your fingers curled under his chin, sharing a fork-full of cake with him, kissing him after so quickly it left his head spinning. 

His birthday girl, it was your day. Eddie never thought he’d love a random day as much as he did. He had no idea how important that day would become when he’d first met you, how it would engrave itself in his mind forever. 

He was glad it did. Looking at you, giggling with your friends on the couch, then again, the next night, singing with Heather at the crowded bar- Eddie’s chest heart swelled. Proud that he’d surprised you, hopeful that he’d get to for the rest of his life. 

Next year, he’d do it right. Really pull off the party you deserved. He’d start saving now, planning too. He decided it that night, tucked between the sheets, your head still on his sweat soaked chest. He could still taste you on his tongue, lips numb from the time he’d spent between your legs. Lashes fluttering in sleep, curled into him, Eddie pulled you closer. He’d get it right next year, you deserved it. 

[nesryn-x]

-----mdni-----

------18+-----

🩸🩸 BUTTER KNIVES🩸🩸

Human!Alastor x f!reader

blood / size kink / bitting / incorrect usage of knives / virgin reader / fucking in general / ALASTOR IS FILTHY AS HELL / porn with plot

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Your father always disapproved of him. A girl like you should never marry such man.

"A radio host? Pumpkin, you need a man who will be able to look after you when you grow old." Your father had said to you when you had gathered all your courage at dinner table one evening.

"But... I love him father..." You mumbled quietly.

"Love? You're far too young to know what love is. And besides, didn't you see at the ball how all the girls were looking at him? I can bet, that he looks at all the girls the same." Your father continued and dabbing at his moustache with napkin, cleared his throat:

"I must head out. Moon is out tonight and it's perfect for hunting. Lads will be waiting on me by now."

"Stay safe." Your mother kissed your father on cheek and saw him off. You were left sitting alone at the table, staring at your half eaten plate.

"Dont take it so hard, petal." Your mother stood next to you and gently run her hand through your hair.

"A man I respect is keeping me away from the man that my heart yearns for..." You sighed.

"Does father want me to marry someone I do not love? I'd kill myself in such marriage, mother."

"Don't even say such thing. You know your father is only looking out for you. For your future." Your mother said, trying to calm you.

"Alastor is also looking out for me." You narrowed your eyes at mother. With a hard look down at you, your mother advised:

"I think... It would be better if you did not see him anymore. Don't make your father angry, petal."

You looked up at her, not believing what she had just said.

"What..? Mama... How could you say such thing?" Your lip started to tremble. With blurry vision you looked around the table, butter knives shining in dim light. With angry huff you tried to brush your tears away and stood up, chair falling over in process. Your mother took a step back:

"Behave now." Mother said in sharp tone. You took a quick glance at the clock on the mantle piece and then bolted for the door.

"Where are YOU going at such hour?!" Your mother grabbed your hand before you even got two steps away from table.

"Clearly away from here." You spat, not breaking eye contact.

"You will sit back down, finish your dinner and go straight to bed." Your mother stated, her grip on your arm tightening. What she didn't notice, was how your other hand sneaked behind you and blindly reached for the first thing - the glimmering butter knife.

"I will not do such thing. Now. Let. Go." You said through gritted teeth.

"That's it. You insolent daughter." Your mother's hand reached up to grab your hair, but before she could do so - you were pointing the knife at her.

With wide eyes, both of you stared at the knife that was between you two.

"Mother.... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean--"

Your mother looked up at you and in one swift motion slapped you right across your face. With a cry you clutched your cheek and finally escaped the house. Leaving your mother to seeth back at the doorstep.

Quickly running down the front stairs of the house, you bolted across the yard. Ducked through the wooden fence that held your father's horses out of mother's garden, and run bare feet in the field. Trying to put as much distance between her and yourself.

When you finally had reached the other far off side of stockyard, you felt like you could breath again. Not bothering to climb over the fence you sat in the wet dewy grass and leaned against the fence pole. Distinct sounds of hunters gunshots and hound howls echoed in the forest behind.

You looked down at your hands. Right one still clutching the butter knife. From holding it incorrectly in your hand while on the run, you had accidentally nicked your fingers. New tears gathered in your eyes and you let out pathetic whimper.

"Y/n...?" You heard steps approaching on the other side of the fence on the gravel road.

"A-Alastor?" You immediately jumped up. Switching the knife from one clammy hand to other and hiding it behind your back. Now free hand, whipped your nose and cheeks, unknowingly to you - leaving red streaks across your face.

"What has my darling doe crying?" He quickly approached the fence when he picked up on your sniffling.

"Its fine, Alastor. Just had quarrel with my mother." You tried to laugh it off.

"A bloody one, as I see." He eyed you, reaching for your cheek. You tried to step away, but his warm touch was so inviting.

"Show me your hands, love." he said. He wasn't asking.

Swallowing thickly you brought both hands in front of you. Feeling like child in trouble. Trembling, and both bloody by now.

"We were having family dinner. And my father was reminiscing on the previous ball. And asked if I fancied any men there-" Alastor eyed you sharply for a second, unknowingly to you as you kept on rambling:

"-and I said that there was a man that I have had eyes for such long time, that the other men at the ball didn't even interest me. And he asked who. I said it's you. And he said that I should look elsewhere. I stood my ground and told him I love you. And he disapproved. Then mother said I should listen to him. Then she was screaming, saying I should stop seeing you. I got angry. She grabbed me. Tried to pull my hair and I... I just -I just pulled a knife at her... And then... And now I'm here..." You ranted so quickly that now you were out of breath.

With gentle chuckle, Alastor reached for your hand that was holding the knife, his ever seeing eyes, noticing the cuts on your other palm. He slowly frapped your fingers alongside his around the hilt of the butter knife and pulled both of your hands across the fence.

"When in dire straits, slice the sinew to halt movement," he murmured, gently drawing the knife across his chest. "Stab and pivot to temporarily cease motion," he directed, gesturing towards the center of his chest.

"You're wicked, Alastor..." You mumbled looking up at him.

"And you should never shed your blood. Though I am touched by your eagerness in defending your convictions concerning me, I would prefer not to witness your blood spilled, my love."

"Even if blood is such a pretty colour on you." He continued, his eyes flickering across your face. Standing up on the first wooden beam of the fence, he now stood way taller than you. Grabbing your chin he tilted your face one way, then the other.

"Since you say I'm wicked-" he gave you a cheeky smile,

"I might be afraid that your parents are correct. You should stay away from me." He looked away from you and across the field behind you.

"But I love you, Alastor..." You whispered so quietly, afraid that he might not have heard you.

"You have brought a knife in bloody hands tonight. What an odd way of confessing one's love." He bent his head closer to your face.

"What a lovely thing you are." His voice suddenly sounded sultry. It was enough for you to stand on your tippy toes and press your lips against his.

You could feel his smile against your lips. One of his hands sneaking to hold the back of your neck and pulling you closer. When that was not enough, in swift motion his legs swung over the fence and he was right in front of you. His lips never leaving yours.

It felt so right to kiss him. To kiss him felt like finally quelling an obsession. Just to feel the painful withdrawal as soon as his lips traveled to your neck to leave love bites there. Love bites that bloomed the same way as the blood splatters on your light summer dress.

His hands traveled down your back, the butter knife still in his hand. Both of you knew that no one would come down this road at this hour, but there was urgency in your actions. Desperation, almost. Your hands traveled to the front of his shirt, to get rid of the bow tie and open couple of buttons.

"The next move shan't be quite gentlemanly of me, my doe.." he was breathing hard and put the hilt of the knife in his mouth. His tongue briefly tasted your blood on it. Alastor's hands deftly gathered the skirt part of your dress and pushed you against the fence. Then raising the fabric around your hips and bunching it to the side, he grabbed the knife and pinned your dress to the fence.

"Alastor..." Your breath caught in your throat as your lower half was exposed to the cold nights air.

"Too much?" He asked, now stepping closer as his hands worked on his belt.

He clearly did intend to fuck you here. In empty field. Against a fence. In middle of the night.

"No, just perfect, you're perfect..." you breathed, hands looping around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

"Lovely." He whispered and kissed you. His hand reaching down between your legs.

"Ah..." You moaned at the first contact.

"Needy little thing you are..." Alastor sighed against your lips, feeling the wetness between your legs.

It was the first time someone else's hands were touching you down there, besides your own. Feeling was not entirely new, but the anticipation was almost killing you. Your hand around Alastor's neck tightened, pulling him down, so you could hide your face in his shoulder. Breath heavy against his neck.

His fingers deftly slid through your slit.

"How.. many...?" Alastor implied, trying to shift his face away and look at you, making him pull his hand slightly away and his fingers circling back to your clit.

"Ah.." you gasped, not hearing his question and just trying to hide your face again.

"Sweetheart..." Alastor's hand slid from your cunt and instead dug his fingers in - right where your thigh met your pussy. This finally got your attention and your head shot up to look at him. You could almost swear that you could see your own debauched image reflecting in his glasses. He tilted his head down at you, and your reflection was gone and his warm eyes were staring right into your soul.

"How many men you have sle-" before he could ask the question you were shaking your head.

"None. No one." You said. "None has touched me this way," you looked down at his hand between your legs. His pointer finger that was closest to your pussy, slowly slid through your slit once more. Your head fell back and you stared at the sky. Stars were slowly starting to appear in the night sky.

"... except myself." You swallowed. Your head feeling empty of any coherent thought. Alastor's mouth fell open slightly:

"Say the word, and I'll stop, my doe..." He leaned down to your exposed neck, and gently run his nose up and down your pulse point.

Your hand shot down and grabbed his wrist:

"I want you and you alone."

His smile against your neck was almost infectious.

"Well, then... To rephrase..." He planted slow, open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder, his free hand pulling your dress down your shoulder. He moved his lips against your ear, as if to tell you something that no one else could ever hear:

"...How many of your own fingers have you taken?" you could hear his wicked smile in his voice. And you could feel his hand moving between your legs. His middle finger slowly, almost feather lightly, circled your clit and slid down to your opening. Your breath hitched:

"A-Alastor..."

When you didn't provide him the answer, he quickly pulled his hand out of your underwear and grabbed your hand putting it up between both of you. He pressed his palm against yours and looked at your hands. You did the same. Both of you could see how his fingers shined in the moonlight from your wetness coating them.

"Tell me."

"One."

"How far?"

You were staring at your pressed together hands. He was looking straight at you, watching how your eyes showed the realization of how much bigger his hands were and how longer his fingers were.

"Second knuckle..." You whispered and your eyes met his, over the frames if his glasses.

"Oh, my little doe... I will give you so much more than that..." He chuckled and looked at your hands as his fingers interlinked with yours.

"When I kneel before you, you shall receive all I offer. Diligently." He let go of your hand and took off his glasses.

"Understood?"

You nodded. For such a gentleman, he definitely had such a filthy mouth. You'll soon learn it both ways.

"Hold these for me, will you?" He innocently asked and put his glasses on you, quite lower so you could stare over the round frames. Before you could say anything else, he was on his knees in the dewy grass, both of his hands sliding up your bare legs. His lips gently leaving kisses on your hips as he dragged your panties down your legs. You couldn't look away from him. His soft lips moving from one hip, across your stomach to the other side. His fingers running between your folds, time to time coming up to circle your clit and then tease your entrance by dipping in a fingertip.

"Mark me..." you breathed out as one of your hands slid to his hair.

"That will hurt." He looked up at you.

"You won't hurt me. I trust you, Al..." You said through a moan.

"...where...?" He quietly inquired.

God, please, everywhere.

"Here..." you gently tapped your hip. Alastor smiled, leaned closer, pressed his lips to the top of your hand and then gently bit your fingertip.

"This shall mean you're mine, my love, I hope you are preparing for the consequences that it ensues." He said against your skin as you pulled your hand away.

"I was yours as soon as our eyes locked when I saw you riding horses with the hunters all those years ago..." You moaned as his fingers circled your clit, as if he was encouraging you to finish your though. Next second, you felt his teeth sink into your skin and his middle finger plunging into you.

"Alastor! Ah.." both of your hands flew to his hair, as your hips jerked against his hand.

"Shhh.." Alastor smiled against the blooming love bite. His eyes then locked on how you were taking his finger.

"Good girl." His smiled and looked up at you. His other hand joining to circle your clit.

"Oh Lord..." You moaned. He playfully rolled his eyes at you and leaned his temple against your hip.

"Such a good girl, taking my fingers so well." He praised, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He twisted his finger and you let out a high pitch keen.

"Look at me." He straighted a little. Your eyes locked with his. Opening his mouth, he stuck his tongue out. Your eyes grew big, and a flash of warmth traveled down from your chest to your legs. Your pussy involuntary clamping down on his finger. And then his mouth was on you. As soon as his tongue got the first taste of you, his eyes fell shut and he moaned against you, sending vibrations straight through you.

"Ahh...ha...." You moaned loudly, both hands moving to his hair and pulling it. He lapped at your pussy as if he was a starving man. He sucked on your clit and then you felt a second finger stretching you open.

"Please.... Just don't stop..." You moaned, your hips jerking against his mouth. His fingers picked up the speed and your breathing did the same.

"I think I'm going to..." Your hold on his hair grew tighter and you were starting to push his mouth harder against your weeping cunt. Alastor grunted, his hand that was constantly squeezing your ass traveled down to his crotch and palmed himself. His pants growing too tight.

Alastor curled his fingers forward and sucked hard on your clit. With a loud cry you came on his fingers and tongue. You yourself could never reach such intense peak. Your toes curled, your knees almost wishing to pull together. You pressed Alastor's head closer to your dripping core, at the moment careless if he could breathe or not.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckkk..." Your eyes rolled back into your skull. For a moment you felt weightless, your hands falling away from his hair, to hold onto to the fence beams that you were leaning against.

Flatly dragging his tongue from your twitching hole up your slit to the clit, he placed chaste kiss on your mound. Alastor leaned back and looked up at you.

When you had gathered at least some wits about you, you looked down at him. His chin and lips were glistening from your cum.

"You taste sweet." He gave you a wink and licked his lips.

"Alastor..." You whispered his name and in swift motion crossed your hands and pulled the dress over your head. Leaving it hanging by the knife. Alastor was caught off guard and sat back, his hands slowly starting to unbutton his vest and then his shirt.

Was Alastor intending to fuck you against the fence or where you intending to ride him in the dewy grass?

In two quick steps you were in front of him and straddling his hips. Your lips immediately seeking out his and hands helping him to unbutton his shirt faster. With a groan he pulled away and grabbing your hand dragged it down his chest to the front of his pants. Unzipping his pants you dipped your hand in his boxers.

"Fuck..." He moaned, his eyes rolling back. You wrapped your hand around his cock and gently freed him from the confines of his pants.

"How is that going to fit...?" You blurted out when you looked down at him and gave him two long strokes.

"... perfectly..." He hissed through his teeth and threw his head back when your thumb swiped across his dripping tip. You switched your hands, and raised now free hand up to your face. Alastor looked at you through lidded eyes. Gently you licked your finger, tasting him on your skin. Seeing you do that, Alastor's hips jerked up into your fist and his eyes fluttered shut.

"Lover." He gritted through clenched teeth. His hands coming to hold your hips. You only smiled at your ability to drive him as insane and he was driving you. You slid your hand down to his base and gently squeezed.

"Cheeky little thing..." Alastor opened his eyes and pulled you in for a kiss by your neck. It was slow but messy. Tongues twisting, saliva smearing against both of your lips.

You got up on your knees and wrapped your hands around Alastor's neck. However, he grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his cock alongside his own.

"Now, now." He smiled against your lips. "You gotta learn how to take it. Put. It. In." Alastor whispered absolute filth against your lips and moved your hand so that his cock dragged through your soaked folds.

With a shaky breath you dragged his cock through your folds once more. Pausing on your clit and moaning against Alastor's lips.

"Yes... Take your pleasure..." He whispered.

Then moving his cock down, you pushed it's tip against your entrance. And then with a hissfrom your mouth, your hips were flush with his. The unknown feeling between your legs made you bite Alastor's lip. He groaned in your mouth, but didn't pull away if both of you felt the tangy taste of blood.

Alastor was patient with you, and let you decide when and how to move. But once your hips started to twitch against his, Alastor ground hips up into yours. His warm hands moved up to your back and shoulder blades to pull you closer. Your own hands tangled themselves in his dark hair and scratched down his back. By now your moans were echoing the same as the hounds of the hunters.

"Harder.. Al... Please..." You moaned against his cheek, as your hips moved up and down. Your desperate cunt twitching around his cock and making Alastor moan in your ear.

Next moment you were on your back, your legs on his shoulders as he leaned over you. Your eyes locked with his. Both of you as mirrored image to each other. Hair disheveled, foreheads sweaty, short rapid breaths. And then he was fucking you as if this is the last night out here with stars. As if the coming morning you won't stop by the coffee shop where he gets his morning dose of caffeine.

The way his cock so deliciously dragged against your walls - you had nothing in this world to compare it to. Leaking tip of his cock was carving your cunt out with every push back in, and each drag of it made you clench around him. As if to say, that you need him back in and not let him pull out.

You grabbed Alastor's cheeks:

"I'm in love with you...." He said first, as if he had read your thoughts on what you were about to say.

"I love you." You smiled back and pulled him in for a kiss that was broken by your moan as Alastor gave harsh thrust, hitting your cervix. Making you lose your breath momentarily.

"More.. please..." You begged, your cunt twitching around him.

"Fuck..." Alastor moaned, his hips taking on harsher and faster movements. You could swear that you felt him in your guts. Your hand traveled down your stomach and pressed on the outline of his cock. He smirked at you, as if saying that no other cock will ever be this deep, no one ever will pleasure you the same way.

"You're mine..." He groaned. Letting your legs off his shoulders, he pulled your lower lip with his thumb until your mouth opened and he could slide his finger in. Your tongue latched around his digit and sucked hard, making him stutter in his movements as he wondered how to use that mouth of yours in other ways.

With press on your tongue, your mouth opened once more, Alastor pulled his finger out and dived in to kiss you. Your tongues meeting before your lips could. You moaned in his eager mouth as his wet thumb now circled your clit. Your hips raising to meet his thrusts. When your wandering hands were enough for him, he grabbed them and pinned both of them above your head.

"Keep them there..." He said breathlessly and leaned back lifting your hips with his.

He was fucking you like drowning animal would fight for air. And the pleasure was rapidly pulling both of you under. The way your cunt clenched around him more and more frequently, was a sign that you were close. As if not being able to stand not touching him, your hand raised to rest on his stomach, feeling the lean muscles flexing there.

Not wanting to soil you on your first sexual encounter, Alastor was ready to pull out when your legs wrapping around his hips locked him in place. Sliding his hands up your legs and then sides, he leaned over you.

Your orgasm approached you unknowingly, as such intense feeling you have never felt before.

"I got you. Just let go." Alastor said against your chest as his forehead rested against your collarbone. With a moan that stole all your breath - you came. Alastor's name tumbling out of your lips like the sweetest honey. Your body arched off the ground and pressed against Alastor. Not knowing what to do with your hands as all nerve ends felt like going haywire, you opt to grab Alastor's hips and, as if your legs being locked around him wasn't enough, you pulled him against you.

Corrupting such sweet doe as yourself felt so rewarding. He could almost feel your orgasm on his tongue. Perhaps that was just taste of your cunt that kept lingering on his tongue. His own hips stuttered and with deep groan he came deep inside you, his teeth latching on the side of your left breast, leaving another love bite to remind you of this night of debaucheries.

For a moment neither of you moved. Still ongoing gunfires of hunters and howls of hounds could be heard echoing, meaning that hunt was still on. And you could return home without your father seeing you here.

Alastor wrapped one hand around your back and gently laid you back on ground.

"I must beg your pardon. A lady such as yourself ought never to be deflowered in such a place for the first time." He said quietly against your soft breasts that were still raising and falling in short breaths.

"Oh, hush. I enjoyed myself very much so." You took a deep breath trying to steady your breathing. Alastor looked at you and you smiled at him. Gently running your hands through his hair in order to tame it.

Steadying himself on his hands, Alastor pulled out and couldn't help but to stare at your cunt that was already leaking his cum. Catching him staring, ought to teas him a little bit. Bending your legs you spread them open. Gaining Alastor's attention, you trailed one hand down your body and dipped your fingertips in your folds. Shyly looking to the side you spread your folds, making more cum leak out. Alastor was watching your hand like it was a prey.

"Darling-" Alastor warned as his lashes fluttered. He leaned to kiss your knee instead. Fighting so hard not to take your overstimulated body the second time.

"We should talk in the morning." Alastor got up with a sigh, tucked himself away and walked over to the fence to retrieve your dress.

You quietly got dressed, not questioning anything. You weren't sure what we're you to say in such moment. While you were getting dressed you couldn't help but stare as Alastor was putting on his shirt. His skin on the back scratched by your nails. Or how the fingers you had cut had smeared blood all over his body.

"Shall I escort you home?" Alastor turned to you.

"No. It's late, we both should be getting home and to bed. And besides, I know this field like back of my hand." You shook your head.

"Alright." Alastor tilted his head to the side and smiled. He walked up to you and gently took off his glasses from you.

"Not a scratch. Good girl." He praised you, leaning down to your eye level. Your cheeks immediately flushed red and you quickly pressed your lips against his.

As he watched you walk back home, you couldn't help the smile that was on your lips. The faithful butter knife clutched carefully in your hands, will be neatly stored in your vanity as a reminder.

Meanwhile Alastor was sitting on the fence, watching you walk away, with skip in your step. Once you were far enough, he hauled himself over the fance, back on the road. What you had not seen at the very beginning, was that Alastor had come with knive of his own. Quite menacing butcher knife, that he had wedged in the nearby tree.

You were almost home. You had just ducked through the fence and walked quietly across the yard when, one, so much differently sounding gunshot, made you turn back around and stare at the field where you had come from....

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Part 2?