#it's a pain feeling obligated to tag with two names for the same thing

[nymphoniah]

lessons learned | logan howlett

AN: here's a little drabble about logan fucking you from behind, keeping you in a headlock, squished between his biceps <3 and also some dirty talk here and there!

pairing: mean!logan x afab!reader

content/tags: NSFW, minors DNI (18+ only), dom!logan, choking, dacryphilia, name calling, porn without plot, dirty talk, creampies, unprotected sex, pet names (princess, doll, etc.), size kink, mark leaving (ie. hickeys), breeding kink, brat taming, rough sex

logan sees the way you watch his arms hungrily, your lust blown pupils observing the way his muscles twitch when he's feeling tired. he knows the chokehold he has on you.

just a poor little thing, wrapped around his finger.

"i see the way you look at my arms, darlin", he grunts, manhandling you so your back presses against his chest, his toned arms snaking around your waist, keeping you locked in place.

"you don't even try to hide it," logan adds, pressing kisses against your shoulder, his hands working at the straps of your tank top, slowly sliding them down to reveal your tits.

"such a dirty girl, hm?" he teases, rolling the sensitive buds between his thumb and index finger.

"were you ever taught that it was rude to stare?" he hisses, tugging at your nipples, making you wince out in pain. logan smirks at your audible displeasure, now turning his attention from your tits to your neck.

"i’m gonna mark you up doll, ‘oughta teach you a lesson somehow," he growls. logan presses a kiss against the shell of your ear, making his way down to your nape, planting wet kisses along the way.

you lean forwards, giving him easier access to your neck—and when you give him an inch, he takes a mile.

his kisses get more erratic, sloppier, messier, hungrier. he can’t hold himself back, he needs to mark you, and absolutely wants to show the whole world that you’re his.

and so he sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your neck, paying sweet attention to how your weak moans escaped from your lips. he’d nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave those love bites you both oh-so carnally desire.

your brain is all fuzzy from the stinging pain you felt on your neck, mixed alongside the growing pleasure you felt between your legs as he simultaneously paws at your tits.

“i can’t take it lo, s’too much,” you whine, shutting your eyes tight. tears start forming around your waterline as he continues his assault on your neck.

just as your vision starts to get hazy, he wraps his left arm around your neck, keeping your face snug between his forearm and bicep.

“be a good girl and fuckin’ take it,” he commands, a singular claw popping out of his right hand, slicing through your mini-skirt to reveal your lacy black pair of panties.

sheathing his claw, he hastily pulls them down to reveal your sopping wet cunt. “fuck me…” he hisses, admiring your cunt in all its glory.

“such a dirty fuckin’ whore, you getting off on this?” he says smugly, slipping a finger between your folds, observing the way your pussy sucks him in.

you weakly nod as you remain sandwiched in his headlock. teetering between the lines of passing out and losing consciousness, you mumble out a string of words—something along the lines of “i need you to fuck me,” or “fuckin’ put it in”; they both mean the same thing to logan anyways.

he obliges, with one arm wrapped around your neck, and the other hastily working at the belt of his jeans. in one swift motion, his boxers and jeans hit the floor in tandem, freeing his cock from the confines of the tight denim.

he spits in his hand, pumping his cock a couple times before he finally lines himself up, and slides himself in, down to the hilt. your pussy sucks him in like a vice, the two of you moaning in unison.

“you’re so tight for me, princess.” he groans, thrusting into you at a rapid pace, fully sheathing himself out, and pushing his full length back into you.

the sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room. the pace of which he fucked you made you dizzy, the grip around your neck adding to the immense pleasure you felt in your cunt.

you attempt to press kisses against his bicep as the muscle secures you in place, but you fail to do so, as shown by your wine red lip stick smudged all over his arm.

“such a naughty whore, suckin’ me in like this” he teases, his free hand pressing against the bulge on your stomach, disappearing and reappearing with every thrust of his. “need this dick to fill you up, huh?”

and you whine as much as your parched voice allowed you to. “want you so bad, lo” you mumble incoherently. “need you stuff me with your cum.”

“such a filthy mouth for a sweet little girl like you,” logan grunts, the movement of his hips getting sloppier. “beg for it.”

“need you to fuckin’ breed me,” you moan, “make me yours,” you cry out— and that’s what makes logan snap.

with a few final deep thrusts, he finishes inside you. his hot ropes of cum fill your cunt to the brim; your arousal mixed with his cum leaks out of your sopping hole before he even pulls out.

he keeps his cock inside you for a minute, pumping whatever he has left inside of you, and finally pulls out. he winces, already missing the way your gummy walls wrapped tightly around his cock.

“need to keep that in you…” he says playfully, plugging your cunt with his thumb, the calloused pad making sure that his cum is stuffed deep inside you.

“now let that be a lesson for you, doll,” he quips, removing his thumb, slipping it into his mouth to taste the mixture of the two of you.

he then brings his thumb to your bottom lip, inviting you to have a taste for yourself. the heady taste of his cum combined with your slick had you moan around him.

he pulls his thumb away from your mouth with a pop, and you look up at him with your fucked-out eyes. you simply nod your head and give him a lazy smile.

surely it wouldn’t hurt to stare at him every now and then.

[domm1etae]

needy pup

mingi x f!reader

oneshot | mdni

2.1k

Mingi may be the perfect alpha on campus—popular, charming, and everyone’s favorite—but the moment he’s around you, all his composure crumbles. When his need for you gets too overwhelming to handle during a study session, you decide to give your needy pup exactly what he’s been begging for. Turns out, he’s more obedient than anyone would’ve guessed

nsfw tags under

f/m, mention of a/b/o dynam., alpha submissive top mingi, beta dominant bottom reader, pet names, jerking off, pleading, semi-public sex, going down on her, oral sex, quick sex, cumming inside without condom (pls wrap up your piener irl), female reader, and more idk anymore lol

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Song Mingi is an alpha.

But not the kind you’d expect.

Sure, he’s the campus favorite—everyone knows his name. Whether it’s omegas, betas, or even other alphas, they all seem drawn to him like moths to a flame. But unlike the image most people have of alphas, Mingi isn’t all bark and bite. Yeah, he’s got the size and the presence, but he’s also got this easygoing charm that makes him approachable. He’s not trying to prove anything to anyone. Mingi is just… Mingi.

And that’s what makes him stand out.

It’s not like he hasn’t had his moments, though. Back in high school, he was a total pain—always cracking jokes, pulling harmless pranks, and skating by with his boyish grin. His teachers were over it, but somehow, he had this magnetic energy that kept people from staying mad at him for long. He wasn’t the type to pick fights or throw his weight around; he just had that playful streak that made life a little more interesting.

Now, in his second year of university, Mingi’s mellowed out a bit. He still knows how to have fun, but he’s more focused these days. Or at least, he was until he met you.

Y/N.

You weren’t just some random classmate. From the moment Mingi saw you, something shifted. It wasn’t just that you were beautiful—though you definitely are—it was the way you carried yourself. Calm, confident, like you didn’t need anyone to tell you how amazing you were. For someone like Mingi, who’s so used to people trying to impress him, your vibe was… refreshing.

And a little intimidating.

The thing is, alphas aren’t supposed to feel small. Not physically, not emotionally, not in any way. But around you? Mingi couldn’t help it. You’d give him one look—just one—and it felt like the ground beneath his feet disappeared. At first, he thought he was imagining it. Alphas don’t submit, right? That’s just not how it works.

Except it is.

Because with you, Mingi’s entire dynamic flipped. He found himself saying “yes” before you even finished your requests, practically jumping to do anything you asked. Grabbing your bag, holding the door, running across campus to get you snacks—you name it, he did it. And it wasn’t because he felt obligated. It was because he wanted to.

There was something about you that made him crave your approval. Your smirk, the way you’d tease him—it turned his brain into static. Every time you praised him, even for the smallest thing, he felt like he’d won the lottery.

Before the two of you got close, Mingi spent way too much time trying to figure you out. He’d catch himself staring at you in class or conveniently ending up in the same places as you, hoping you’d notice him. And when you finally did? It felt like the stars had aligned.

But getting close to you wasn’t easy. You weren’t the type to fall for cheap charm or shallow compliments. You made him work for it—really work for it—and Mingi loved that. Every little victory, every small smile you gave him, felt earned.

When he finally built up the nerve to ask you out, his heart was practically in his throat. He expected you to laugh or maybe let him down gently. But you didn’t. You said yes. And just like that, Mingi’s world tilted on its axis.

Now that you’re his, Mingi can’t get enough. He doesn’t care about what’s expected of him as an alpha. He only cares about you. And if anyone thinks it’s strange that someone like him gets so soft for someone like you? Well, that’s their problem, not his.

Mingi’s eyes flit between the clock on the wall and Y/N, who is flipping through her notes at her desk. They’re currently sitting in the schools library, and while Y/N is busy preparing for an upcoming exam, Mingi is squirming in his seat, unable to focus on anything but the growing ache between his legs.

“I told you to go do something productive,” Y/N says, barely sparing him a glance as she writes something in her notebook.

Mingi shakes his head, his pout growing. “Don’t wanna. Wanna stay with you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes but can’t hide the amused smirk tugging at her lips. “Pup,” she sighs, turning in her chair to look at him fully. “You’re distracting yourself sitting here. Go take a walk or something. I’ll be done soon.”

“But I need you,” he whines, his voice soft but desperate, laced with need.

“You’re being dramatic,” Y/N replies, leaning back in her chair, arms crossing over her chest. But she knows that look. That glint of need in his eyes.

“Can’t help it,” Mingi mumbles, his gaze darting downward, shame creeping up his neck as he fidgets in his seat. His hand twitches near his lap, and Y/N doesn’t miss the way his breath hitches as he rubs his thighs together.

“Are you seriously getting hard right now?” Y/N raises a brow, her tone somewhere between amused and incredulous.

Mingi’s cheeks flush red as he nods, barely meeting her eyes. “I can’t help it, Y/N. You smell so good, and—and I’ve been good all day! Please…” His voice cracks as his need grows, and Y/N notices the way his hands grip the edge of the desk, trying to ground himself.

“Poor pup,” Y/N teases, leaning closer to him. “You really can’t handle yourself, can you?”

Mingi sniffles, his desperation apparent in the way his eyes shine with unshed tears. “Please, Y/N. I—I need you so bad. Just let me taste you. I promise I’ll be good.”

Y/N tilts her head, pretending to think it over, though she’s already made up her mind. Seeing Mingi like this—needy, desperate, and begging—is enough to make her wet. She stands, gesturing for him to follow.

“Get up,” she commands. “Let’s find a place before someone walks in here.”

Mingi doesn’t hesitate, scrambling to his feet and trailing behind her like the obedient pup he is. She leads him to a small, unused classroom down the hall, locking the door behind them. The second the door clicks shut, Mingi is on his knees in front of her, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

“Good boy,” Y/N purrs, running her fingers through his hair. “You really are desperate, aren’t you? Go on, pup. Show me how much you want it.”

Mingi’s hands tremble as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of her pants, pulling them down along with her underwear. He groans when her bare pussy is revealed, glistening with arousal. “Fuck,” he mutters, practically drooling. “You’re so pretty, Y/N.”

She smirks, leaning back against the desk and spreading her legs. “It’s all yours, pup. Don’t make a mess.”

Mingi wastes no time, diving in with a hunger that borders on feral. His tongue laps at her folds, drawing out a satisfied sigh from Y/N. He’s sloppy, licking and sucking with a desperation that makes her thighs tremble around his head.

“Good boy,” she praises, her fingers tangling in his hair to guide him. “Just like that. Make me feel good, pup.”

Mingi moans against her, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through her body. His hands grip her thighs, holding her steady as he buries his face deeper between her legs, his nose brushing against her clit as his tongue works her entrance.

Y/N’s head tilts back, a low moan escaping her lips. “You’re so eager,” she teases, looking down at him. “You really can’t get enough, can you?”

He shakes his head, his movements frantic. “Never,” he mumbles against her, his voice muffled. “Need you so bad.”

She lets him continue for a while longer, enjoying the way he whimpers and moans as he devours her. Than she pulls him back by his hair, smirking at the way his lips and chin glisten with her arousal.

“Don’t stop, pup,” she pants, her voice breathless. “Make me cum, and I’ll let you fuck me after.”

The promise lights a fire in him. Mingi dives in deeper without hesitation, his broad shoulders parting your thighs wider as he grips them, keeping you spread open. His hot breath hits your core, and the way his tongue flicks out and barely grazes over your folds has you twitching in anticipation.

“Pup,” you murmur, fingers tangling in his hair as you tug his face closer. “Don’t waste time—get to it. You’re starving, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he groans, voice muffled as he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. He circles his tongue slowly, savoring the taste, before pulling back to whisper, “Tastes so good, so perfect—thank you…”

“Stop thanking me and start eating properly.”

The edge in your voice spurs him on, and suddenly Mingi’s tongue is relentless. He’s licking, sucking, and lapping at your folds with fervor, moaning softly like he’s the one being pleasured. His hands grip your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you even closer to his mouth, like he’s scared you’ll take this away from him.

The sounds are obscene—his mouth slurping against you, his muffled groans, and your breathy moans echoing in the small, empty classroom. You glance down and see Mingi’s eyes locked on you, pupils blown wide as he stares up, completely lost in the act.

“Fuck, pup,” you gasp, hips jerking involuntarily. His tongue is everywhere—flicking over your clit, dipping into your entrance, and dragging along every inch of you. “Look at you, making such a mess of yourself. You really can’t control yourself, can you?”

Mingi whines against you, shaking his head. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard enough to pull a cry from your throat. You feel one of his hands leave your thigh, and when you glance down, you see him stroking his cock desperately, precum smearing over his fingers as he jerks himself off to the sound of your moans.

“Needy boy,” you tease, tugging lightly on his hair to make him look at you. “All you had to do was wait for me to finish my work, but no, you had to act like a desperate little pupyou are. Now look at you—messy and so fucking hard you can’t even think straight, huh?”

“Y-Yeah,” he chokes out, his lips red and shiny as he pulls back for a second. “I can’t—I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. You’re all I want—all I need.”

You smirk, cupping his cheek. “Then keep going, pup. Show me just how much you need me.”

With a low growl, Mingi dives back in, tongue thrusting inside you as his nose rubs against your clit. His movements are frantic now, like he’s trying to prove just how desperate he is. The hand on his cock speeds up, and you can tell by the way his hips are twitching that he’s close.

“Don’t you dare cum yet,” you warn, gripping his hair tighter. He lets out a muffled whimper, his tongue faltering for a second before resuming its task. “Good boy. Make me cum first, and I’ll let you finish after as I promised.”

And after those words, his tongue is suddenly everywhere, licking and sucking like his life depends on it. The pressure builds quickly, and you throw your head back, a moan ripping from your throat as the knot in your stomach tightens.

“Right there, pup, just like that—don’t stop,” you gasp, thighs clenching around his head. Mingi groans, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body, and with one final flick of his tongue over your clit, you’re falling over the edge, your body trembling as your orgasm crashes over you.

Mingi doesn’t stop, his tongue still working you through your high as he whines against you, his hips bucking into his hand. When you finally push his head away, panting and spent, he looks up at you with wide, needy eyes, his lips glistening with your release.

“Can I—please, Y/N, can I cum now?” he begs, his voice cracking as he strokes himself faster. “I’ve been so good, haven’t I? Please let me cum, I need it so bad.”

You bite your lip, pretending to think it over, before finally nodding, turning around and bending over the table. “Go ahead, pup. Show me how good you are.”

With a broken moan, he inserts his dick inside, his head falls back as he spills inside of you with just one thrust, his cock twitching as he comes. You turn around right after to reach out and ruffle his hair as he collapses against you, panting and spent.

“Good boy,” you murmur, stroking his cheek. “You did so well for me.”

Mingi looks up at you with a blissed-out smile, his eyes half-lidded. “Anything for you, Y/N. Always.”

[ghoulishlygrey]

Dancing With Death Chapter One

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆��. ───

Josh Washington x Fem!reader

Warning: Explicit Content, MDNI

Read it on ao3 Read Chapter Two

Enjoy!

Word count: 4772 Tags: riding, blowjobs, vaginal sex

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You brought your hand up to knock at the large door of the Washington Lodge, you pulled your parka a little closer, waiting for any sign of life to let you into the warmth of the multimillion dollar home. It had been a year since Beth and Hannah’s mysterious disappearance, a tragedy in your eyes. You weren’t a part of the prank, you were passed out drunk with Chris and Josh when it all went down. You only heard about the prank afterwards when police were called and you finally sobered up. Josh was obviously shaken up about the whole thing, to say the least. You’d barely heard from him throughout the year and he distanced himself from the friend group, which you couldn’t blame him for. You were surprised to hear from him, even more surprised to learn he wanted all of you to come back to Washington Lodge in memory of the sisters.

Although it felt… weird, you felt morally obliged to come back and support Josh, which totally had nothing to do with your feelings for him. Not at all… okay, maybe a little. But, he probably didn’t feel the same. Which was fine, you could be the good friend to him that he needed right now. You hoped that after his time away he’d come back to the friend group, come to the parties and back into your life. Maybe it was a little selfish, but you wanted to see him for the sake of your feelings for him which really hadn’t dwindled in his absence. You worried for him, last you heard he was in therapy and taking medications for his depression and other mental health issues. As childish as it sounded, you wished you were able to take away his pain, or at least ease it. It hurt to see someone you cared about in pain. 

Your mind wanders back to the night of the incident, things would’ve been different if Josh, you and Chris had been awake and aware of the pranks plans. Josh for sure wouldn’t have stood for it, you know you would’ve tried to stop it. After all, Hannah was one of your closest friends. You yourself found it hard to return to the friend group after the whole thing, harboring blame for everyone involved. Well, everyone except Sam who was your other closest friend. You know she tried to stop it afterwards when you had a chance to talk to her, she was just too late.

Your thinking is cut short by the sound of the door unlocking and creaking open. Your gaze follows the sound and lands on Josh as he stands in the doorway, a toothy grin plastered on his face. He says your name in a friendly and welcoming manner before pulling you into a bear hug.

“Oof!” you collide with his chest before wrapping your arms around him in return. 

“Good to see you too, Josh.” Your hands slide back from his flannel as he lets you go and a gust of frigid wind bites at your nose and cheeks. 

“Can I come in?” You ask, pointing to the fireplace. There was nobody else in the room but yet you had a feeling you were the last one to show up, as per usual. 

“Oh yeah, sure sure. Come on in.” He steps aside, and allows you to come into the lodge before closing the door behind you, shutting out the cold. You drag in your luggage and set it in the foyer and then you make your way over to the fireplace, rubbing your hands together and holding them to the flame. Your fingers were freezing as you opted to wear fingerless gloves, perhaps an oversight on your end but you were inside now, so all was well. 

“Can I, uh, take your coat?” He asks, gesturing to the coat rack where his vest was also hanging, his beanie dangling from the pocket. 

“Sure,” You slip your arms from your parka before handing it over to Josh who takes it and hangs it from the coat rack. You’re now left in your black cardigan and jeans. “Thank you.” 

“No problemo.” He smiles at you and makes finger guns, you shoot him back and he chuckles.

“Where’s everyone else?” You ask, looking around. 

“Jess and Mike are on their way to the guest cabin, Emily and Matt are retrieving her bag from the cable car station, Sam is taking a bath and Chris just went to lay down.” He lists off, counting on his fingers.

“Left you all alone, did they?” You tease, watching as he makes his way over to you to warm his own hands. 

“I’m wounded by their absence.” He pretends to stab his heart and acts wounded, you laugh at his theatrics. 

“So dramatic.” You say, rolling your eyes in a silly manner. He scoffs, looking over at you.

“You’ve always been the dramatic one.” He claims, elbowing your side and causing you to squeal and fold in on yourself.

“Stooop!” You dodge away, running to get behind the couch and away from the prying elbow. “Behave.” You warn, smile betraying you. 

“When have I ever not behaved?” He chuckles, raising an eyebrow at you. Now it was your turn to scoff.

“Oh, you want the list or the summary?” You ask, climbing over the back of the couch to bet comfy on the cushions. He watches you with something unknown in his eye, a foreign twinkle. 

“What?” You ask, kicking off your boots before bringing your knees to your chest. 

“Care for a drink, madam?” He disappears to the liquor cabinet before reemerging with a handle of vodka. The last time you had gotten drunk in this lodge, things didn't end well. But, a few sips couldn’t hurt, maybe it’d help you get warm. You also hoped Josh hadn’t turned to alcohol in his time of grief, but if some company was what he needed, you were happy to oblige. 

“Oooo, are we Russian now?” You gesture to the vodka as he comes to sit down next to you, he turns the bottle in his hand. It was nice vodka, probably very expensive but you understood that the Washington family could definitely afford for you and Josh to take a few sips from off the top. 

“Da.” He says in his best Russian accent before unscrewing the lid and offering you first drink. You take the bottle by the neck and take a sip off the top and when you look back to Josh to offer up the bottle, he’s looking at you in disbelief. 

“What?” You ask, blushing under the weight of his gaze. 

“That’s all you’re gonna drink? Where’s the black-out, shit-faced, party girl I know?” He smiles his signature grin at you before taking the bottle and taking a hearty drink. He grimaces against the alcohol taste before setting the bottle on the nearby table. 

“She’s retired. Focusing on her studies.” You say, a teasing tone lacing your voice. You and Josh were both in college at the time of the disappearances but Josh understandably dropped out of his studies. You, on the other hand, were still up at the local college pursuing your degree. 

“Hey,” You start, your teasing tone turning into one of concern, “Should you be drinking with the meds you’re taking?” You tried your best to sound sincere, because you were. You didn’t want him hurting himself or anything just to have a drink with you.

“I’m fine.” He says, face immediately dropping. You move to put a hand over his and he looks at the contact then back at your face.

“I didn’t say you weren’t.” You practically whisper, thumb caressing over his knuckles. 

“I uh…” He starts, gaze not leaving yours, “I stopped taking them.” 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You ask, searching his features for the answer before he can say it. You don’t find anything.

“Good… I think.” He says after a moment, his eyes shift from yours and to the side, like he was thinking of something. You retreat your hand and lean back, your legs draping over his lap. He immediately shifts and welcomes your incursion, hands beginning to fiddle with the hem of your pants. This was nice, your relationship was basically the same as it had been a year ago, even though you’d barely seen each other since. 

“I’m just glad you’re doing better.” You express honestly. All you wanted was for Josh to be okay, even though you knew the pain of losing his sisters would never go away. Hearing that he was off his meds just left you confused on how to feel. Was he off them because he was doing better? Or were they not working, or worse yet, was he giving up on them? 

“Thanks for coming back, I know it probably wasn’t easy.” He says, a rare sincerity showing itself. Usually Josh was a pretty goofy guy, witty and sarcastic and all around a good sense of humor. Seeing him now, timid and honest, was something you’d seen before, but not often. 

“Of course. Anything for you.” You smile as he rests his arms on your shins and studies your face. 

“Careful, you’re giving me a lot of power there.” He grins, returning to his goofy self. 

“Well, maybe not anything.” You trail off, a smile plastered across your face. 

“Well then, I command thee to drinketh upon thine vodka.” He reaches to grab the bottle from the table and hands it to you while committing to his false accent.

“Well, if you command it, I suppose I have no choice.” You take the bottle and take a meaningful gulp of the clear liquid, clearly making a face against the taste as Josh laughs at you. 

“Wow, you really have lost your touch.” He says, chuckling.

“Oh whatever, sorry I’m not used to your ridiculously expensive vodka.” You dismiss, passing back the bottle and watching him take his turn. 

The two of you continue like that for a while, just passing the bottle between you both and getting closer and closer, and louder and louder. Soon enough you’ve got him trapped in a hearty laugh, you’re gripping your sides from cackling and tears are springing from the corners of your eyes. You bring a finger to dab at your eyes, not trying to mess up your mascara. But then, you fall into silence and your gaze slowly makes its way over to Josh, who is already looking at you, lips parted as his tongue dashes out to wet them. 

“What?” You ask, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

“Are you still willing to do anything for me?” He asks, rather seriously.

“Within reason.” You try to make light of the serious tone overcoming the space around you and it seems to work, Josh’s lips twitch into a smile momentarily before he’s pulling on your legs, chugging you towards him. 

“Well then, come here.” 

“Josh!-” You squeal as you slide across the couch. Your heart was racing, what did he want? What was he going to do? You’ve had feelings for him for so long, could it be possible he felt the same way?

In a moment your knees are bent over his lap, your body much closer to his as he turns to look at you. 

“Would it be within reason to ask to kiss you?” 

Your stomach does a backflip and your mouth goes dry. Was he serious? You’d had a crush on this man for years, ever since Hannah had brought you into the friend group in high school. She was younger than you, but you both found yourself in the same chemistry class where you became fast friends. Josh was always the forbidden fruit, someone who you wanted but could never have. Not because you thought Hannah would disapprove, no, in fact she actually knew about your crush, but it was forbidden because you never thought he’d want you too. You always thought he wanted Sam, which you couldn’t blame him for. She was beautiful. But here you were, legs draped across his lap, bodies merely inches apart and he was asking to kiss you. 

“Are you being serious?” You ask, “Josh, I’ve wanted to kiss you since senior year.” 

“I guess we have some time to make up for then.” He says, hand skating up your arm and tangling in your hair as he brings your face to his and connects your lips. You melt into the touch as he tilts his head to get even closer, his free hand coming to rest on the bent knee positioned over his lap. 

Your eyes flutter shut as his lips meld to yours. The kiss starts out slow, just a sweet connection of your lips gradually moving against each other. But soon enough you feel his tongue at the seam of your mouth, so you open and take him greedily, your hands coming to rest on his neck and on the side of his face. Your thumb swipes across his cheek as his hand pulls on your knee, pulling on it gently.

“Come here.” He grunts against you as he guides you into his lap, straddling him. Your tongue meets his as he enters your mouth again and you moan into the contact, hands moving from his face to run through his hair, his own hands go to your ass, holding you against him as your lips engage in a dance for dominance. 

He parts from you to kiss the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw before arriving at your neck where he tenderly nips at the sensitive flesh. You roll your head back and allow him access and when he bites down only to lick over it and play nice, you let out a sweet moan. He nuzzles into your shoulder and your arms go around his shoulders, embracing him. You could feel yourself getting wet from the kissing alone. 

“Keep making noises like that and I won’t be able to contain myself.” He grunts into your hair and you push him back just a little, just enough to have him look at your face.

“I don’t want you to contain yourself.” You say honestly, you were putting it all out in the open. How many times had you raked your own hands down your body imagining they were his? You were ready for this, hell, you yearned for it. Yearned for him. 

“Yeah?” He asks, searching your eyes. 

“Yeah.” You confirm, a low tremor in your voice from the sheer excitement and want. 

“Get up and follow me.” He says, you obey, sliding off his lap and allowing him to get up. He turns back to you, holding out a hand. You take it, allowing him to lead you up the stairs, around the corner and into his old room. You pause for a second as he closes the door behind you and you take the time to look around the room. It was identical to the last time you’d seen it, when you would sit on the floor with him and Chris and play videogames on the flatscreen across the room. The only thing that was different was the dust covering the shelves and end tables, it was clear the Washingtons hadn’t been here all year. You didn’t blame them. 

“Looks the same.” You observe as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, observing the dark room with you. 

“Haven’t really touched it since…” He lingers but doesn’t finish. 

“But the, uh, bed is clean. Washed all the bedding before everyone got here.” He purrs in your ear, hands going from around your middle and to your hips. You turn in his grasp, his hands just slide along your body as you do until they’re planted on your hips again. 

“Better get to it then.” You say lowly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. That appears to be all the invitation he needs, dipping his head to connect your lips once more. He gently pushes you backwards until the back of your knees hit the mattress. You help him in ripping off your cardigan, discarding it somewhere across the room. Next to go was your spaghetti-strap tank top, leaving you in your bra and jeans. He leans back to admire you, hands sliding up your waist and to your breasts. He cups them gently, squeezing you like you were delicate glass. You grab at his flannel and begin to chug it down his shoulders, he assists you before letting it fall to the ground. His shirt joins the pile soon and now it was your time to admire him. You lean back in to lavish his neck in kisses and licks and move down to his shoulder, biting gently as his hands run up and down your back and he hums lowly in his throat. His hand hitches when it hits your bra strap and he expertly unhooks it, leaving it hanging around your shoulders. You pull back to shuck it from your body. He shamelessly stares, bringing his hand back to them once again and testing the weight of you in his hands. His gaze flicks back up to yours.

“Lay down.” He invites, watching you as you take it and flop down onto the mattress, propping yourself on your elbows as you meet his gaze. He bends over you, unbuttoning your jeans before hooking fingers around your belt loops and beginning to tug your pants down your legs. You assist by lifting your ass off the bed as he gets them past your thighs, to your shins and then off completely. He then works at his own pants before pulling them off, leaving him in his boxers.

He looked so good, your mouth watered for him. You wanted to taste him, to feel him against your tongue, anything to make him feel good. You sit up before standing completely. He looks at you confused but when you sink to your knees in front of him, it seems to click. 

“Can’t say no to that.” He chuckles, watching as you hook your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. You slowly bring them down, revealing the last bit of his happy trail, top of the pelvis until finally his cock springs free, half-hard. You peer up at him, a little smile tugging at your lips as you lick your hand and begin to pump him slowly. He groans as you stroke him, head tilting backwards and eyes fluttering closed, which you thought was funny considering you hadn’t even taken him into your mouth yet. 

But then you finally do, starting at the tip, you swallow him down as much as you can before wrapping your hand around the part you cannot. Then, you start to slowly come off him, lips and tongue running over every ridge and vein until you reach the very tip again and repeat the process. If you could bottle the noises he made while you worked him over, you would and keep it forever. His grunts and groans were everything you’d ever wanted to hear since you’d met him. All those nights fantasizing was nothing compared to the real thing. His hand comes to the back of your head, not to push you or hurry you along, but just to feel you as you slide back and forth. You fight back a gag as he hits the back of your throat, hot tears spring from your eyes but it’s worth it just to make him feel good. You mourn for your mascara but this was about him, so makeup be damned. 

“God, you're good at that.” He moans before pulling out of your mouth with a pop. You look up at him, drool covering your chin as you bring a hand to wipe it up. 

“And as much as I’d like to paint your pretty face, I wanna feel what it’s like to be inside you.”

You nod and he helps you stand before escorting you to the bed, you lay down, pulling off your remaining panties and throwing them across the room. You’d have to go on a scavenger hunt to find all of your belongings later but that wasn’t a problem for now. 

You peer over at him when you hear a rummaging sound and he’s pawing through his bedside drawer.

“Condom?” You ask, resting your head on your bent arm as you watch.

“I swear there’s one in here.” He says, frustrated.

“Aha!” He pulls out a foil wrapped condom before tearing open the packaging with his teeth. He pulls it out, rolling it onto his erect member before using two fingers to beckon you over. 

“Come to the edge of the bed.” He says, voice like honey. You shake your head though, you’d wanted to ride him for a while now and tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity.

“I want to ride you.” You say, scooting over and patting the space beside you. 

“Come get comfy.” You purr, flipping over so your ass was on display. It seems to work as you watch his adam's apple bob before he’s climbing into bed and settling in amongst the pillows.

“I could never say no to you.” He smiles at the ceiling before turning his attention to you.

“I’m going to remember you said that.” You say, climbing over him. He immediately goes for your tits, grasping them in both hands before running his thumbs over your perked nipples. You moan as he does, the attention sending energy straight down to your core. You look back down at him to see him biting his lip as he watches his hands play with the soft flesh. 

“Like what you see?” You ask, your hands slotting over his against your chest. 

“Always have.” He admits, eyes finally finding yours as you peer down at him from your perched position. You tilt your head, trying to find the answer in his eyes before you even asked the question.

“Really?” 

He drops his hands to your thighs and sighs.

“Well duh. Have you seen you?” He squeezes your thighs gently. “You’re like super hot.” 

You laugh, taking a hand to cup the side of his face.

“Wish you told me that when we were seniors.” You say, he turns to kiss your wrist.

“Live and learn.” He chuckles before tapping your thigh. “Now, are you gonna do what you came here for?” 

You look behind you, he’s still angrily erect, a bead of precum drips from the tip. 

“That looks painful.” You coo, scooting backwards, “Let me fix that for you.” 

“Thank God.” He sighs to the ceiling, you just laugh again before taking him in your hand and running his cock through your folds, slicking him in your juices. You were ready for him, had been since he kissed you, even more when he groped you so shamelessly. 

Once he was well and truly slicked, you align him with your entrance before slowly sinking down on him. You cry out as you take him inch by inch, he lets out a guttural moan when you finally hit the base, stretching you out.

“Shit, you’re tight.” He grits through his teeth, hands coming to hold your waist in support. 

 He sits up and ducks his head to lavish your nipple in attention, sucking gently before licking over with his hot tongue. You sigh at the sensation, nails raking over his back as you begin to move up slowly, rising on your knees. He felt so good, like he was made for you. The burning sensation had already subsided and all there was now was sweet pleasure. You wondered what your relationship would be like after this, were you going to go on actual dates now, be fuck buddies? You knew your feelings were too strong for him to be anything casual, your heart would break at the prospect of this being a one time thing. But it all depended on what he wanted, what he thought of you. He admitted he had thought you were attractive to him since you’d met but is that all he felt? Lust?

 He moves to kiss your shoulder, nipping at the skin there as you sink back down. He could be so tender, you’ve learned in your time with him tonight, so caring. It again made you question his intentions, how could someone who was so loving want just to fuck you? He brings his head up to kiss you again, swallowing down your moans as you sink back down, more quickly this time, harder. Soon enough you’ve got a pace down and he’s snapping his hips up to meet you in the middle, creating a delicious friction that has you hurtling towards an orgasm at lightning speed. You can see it on the horizon, steadily approaching. 

You separate your tangled tongues to warn him of your upcoming release.

“Josh,” You pant as he snaps his hips up once more, you pause to let out a moan, “Baby, I’m gonna cum.” 

“By all means,” He quips, letting out another grunt as you meet his pelvis. 

With another thrust, you’re there, cumming as you cry out his name. Your walls flutter around him and it’s enough to have him flustered. 

“Oh shit, I’m gonna-” But he doesn’t finish before he fills the condom with his seed, letting out a long moan that makes you clench around him. You loved the sounds he made throughout this whole experience, loved the way he touched you, the way he fucked you, you loved… him. 

After he is finished, you slide from him, settling in amongst the sheets next to him. He pulls off the condom before tying it off, tossing it into the trash can beside the bed. After, he pulls you onto his chest and wraps an arm around you, fingers running up and down your spine. You rest a hand on his stomach, eyes fluttering shut after the effort you put into making love to him. He kisses your temple before checking the time on the alarm clock on the side table. 

“Shit.” He mutters. You peek your eyes open. 

“What?” You ask, heart dropping for some reason, like you could’ve caused the sudden change of mood.

“I’ve gotta do something.” He says, unwrapping from you and finding his clothes. You follow in suit, finding your panties before sliding them up your legs. Before long you’re both dressed. He catches your hand and pulls you into an embrace. 

“Listen…” He says, pulling away. You dread the look on his face, like he was fighting something internally. 

“What? Is something wrong?” You ask quietly, almost afraid of the question.

“I know I invited you here.” He starts, for some reason he looks… guilty?

“But you need to leave.” 

Your heart sinks to your stomach… what? 

“What?” You ask, voice harboring a little quiver.

“Shit’s about to go down and I don’t want you near it.” He says, honestly. But, what did that mean? What shit was about to go down? 

“What do you mean?” You ask, completely lost.

“I need you to trust me.” He grabs your shoulders and gives you a look. A look that strikes you as the most serious you’d ever seen him. You have no choice but to trust him, to do as he asked. You still had a million questions but his stare silences you. 

“I do.” Is what you settle on and he kisses your forehead at the acceptance. 

“Great.” He lets you go before making his way to the door and opening it for you, you walk through and he follows closely as you make your way down the stairs and to the door. You were sore, still feeling him between your legs. Normally, it’d be something that made you blush but you were feeling too confused, too puzzled to think of anything else as you pull on your parka and grab your suitcase. You turn to say something but he grabs your face and kisses you deeply. You return in, eyes closing and hands going to his waist before you both pull apart.

“I promise everything will make sense by dawn.” He says, letting you go and opening the large front door. You just nod, what else could you do? 

So, you left, stepping into the cold night and soon enough you’re in the cable car, slowly making your way down the mountain. A million questions swarmed your head but those would have to wait… until dawn.  ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── A note: Hope you enjoyed that! Had to change a few things for the plot to work but nonetheless hope it was fun to read! ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── Taglist (comment to be on it)

@sprite-real

[coquettepascal]

his gutted rabbit

summary: you wanted this. have your cake and eat it too. 

tags: 18+, not smut just nsfw, no outbreak au, use of alcohol, irresponsible drinking, dubious consent (bordering on dddne,) reader is referenced to as a girl, reader has a vagina, severe age gap (reader is twenty, joel is somewhere in his fifties,) dark-ish!joel, bad morals basically, neighbor!joel, maybe dbf!joel, this is very subjective, ooc joel and idgaf, regrettable PiV, use of pullout method, angst.

a/n: i call this joel awful!joel because he’s just a man in this fic. also you are not obligated to read this if it makes you uncomfortable. this fic is supposed to be uncomfortable.

(1.4k, not beta read)

Joel was only a passing face and a name in your journal before tonight. 

You’ve had a crush on him for a little while now, you’re pretty sure any girl on your street does. He was Joel Miller, the handsome dad who anyone could depend on for a favor. Though he’d become more busy lately, you’ve been seeing him more often and the two of you have become friendlier. It isn’t like it’s weird, he’s talked to you in passing once or twice, but only really when your parents were around. They liked Joel and didn’t think of it twice when you said you were going to his place for dinner. 

You knew it wouldn’t just be dinner. The moment you stepped into his house you were bent on getting what you wanted, what you fantasized about. Nothing would live up to what you thought he could give you, no one would be able to make you feel small the way he would. Your proof was non-existent, maybe fantastical and overimaginative, but you were willing to test it all. 

Between the pages of your journal and in the folds of your brain lay your wishes to be chased by him, to seduce him and have him at your will. “I want to be like a tricky little rabbit that he can’t help but want to run after,” you had written mere nights ago. You would be so beautiful, maybe a giggly drunk, and he’d make love to you in a way that only a man would. Joel, in all his strength, would use his body to imprint you on his mattress and in the making of that, you’d imprint on his heart. He’d make your lackluster girlhood mean something, he’d make a woman out of you, yet not take advantage. 

It would take some convincing. It would be worth it. 

It doesn’t take long. (why didn’t it take long?)

The first thing Joel chases is the amount of shots you take. By the time the living room is painted in the shades of a summer sunset you’re both laughing at the sound of each other’s laughter and getting too close on the couch. More drinks lead to more touching, and then a kiss, and then you get what you want. Joel chases you up the stairs while your feet stumble, socked feet almost slipping on the shining hardwood in the dark. Laughter bounces louder in the hallway, so loud it vibrates the tiny glass panes in the framed pictures on the wall. Your hands fumble with the door handle when you reach his bedroom. He crowds behind you, heavy and warm with inebriation as he sloppily places his hand over your own and bursts into his bedroom.

Then his eyes chase you as you crawl backwards up his bed, rumpling his sheets. You don’t remember when your clothes came off, or who had taken them off, it wasn’t important. It’s happening, he wants you, and you’re getting what you wanted. Joel’s eyes trail from your hardening nipples down to your crotch, where your thighs are still pressed together. Here is where you begin to feel small. He seems so much bigger suddenly, and suddenly you are much too little. A shiver runs up your back, one that feels like tv static, and you try to convince yourself it isn’t fear as he crawls on top of you. 

He feels like an arrow in you. Sharp, aching, and fractured pains pulse in your vaginal walls as he tries not to move, a futile attempt at being gentle. Your eyes are swimming with alcohol, the same drunkenness that makes his words slur as they fall from his sloppy lips. You didn’t think it would hurt like this, you were so sure you wanted it.

Then, just as that feeling fades, and he thinks it’s okay to move, it starts to feel bad. Really, really bad. You watch as he shoves himself into you, his movements messy since he’s so fucked up, and you start to really see all that’s wrong with what the two of you are doing. Joel is only supposed to be Joel. He is supposed to be that friendly neighbor, the one who helps you and your parents with groceries, who fixes the garage door when it breaks, and he’s supposed to call you “kiddo,” and “sweetie.” He’s supposed to do all these things because he’s a grown man. You can see that he’s grown into the wiry greys that have started to grow into his beard and in the hair just above his ears, you can see it in the way his hands are softening with age, the skin thinning, and you can feel it in how the bones of his hips creak against the flesh of your legs that are wrapped around him. You, a girl, are having sex with a grown man, one who should have known better, one that is now inside you.

This needs to be over, it needs to be over and soon. You don’t feel small, you feel tiny and scared, and you are only a girl. You are not meant to be chased by a man this old and you know that now, but it’s too late. It’s too late, isn’t it? Your belly hurts all of a sudden, the pounding beat against your cervix feeling like it’s about to make that alcohol come right back up. He’s sweating on top of you, exerting too much energy, and that’s somehow making you feel more nauseous. You’re so inebriated you can barely understand whose limbs are whose. He has made you feel small, but in a way that makes you want to cry for your mama. Desperately you want this to be over. You know you’re drying up, and fast, and if he doesn’t finish soon then that’s only going to make you hurt more.

“Where should I–” he grunts, clearly close. 

As much as you want it to be over though, you want to tell him to come nowhere. Not inside you, and not on you, but what choice do you have? You’re already here, you wanted this. 

“On me,” you decide, trying to ignore how tight your voice is. There aren’t any tears in your eyes, but there’s a burning weight behind them. When he pulls out of you, you shut your eyes and try to pretend the warm splatters that hit your skin are raindrops, just raindrops. Not Joel, you’re outside, and it’s raining, and you’re okay, and you didn’t make this mistake. It’s just raining. 

You can still feel it on you even after he wipes your belly clean. The skin almost feels itchy, taut where the liquid had laid on you. Joel is laying beside you, still catching his breath, and he reaches out to touch your hip, his fingers brushing against your skin.

“Never thought we’d do somethin’ like this,” he jokes. Joel sounds more sober now. He’s more sober and he’s still lying there beside you, the two of you naked. Why is he still okay with this? Why does it seem like he wanted this all along?

“Did you think about it?” You ask. It’s a stupid question, one that will hurt you no matter what, but you already feel so betrayed. How could he give in to you? How could he let this happen? Isn’t he the adult here? 

“Tried not to,” Joel says. That almost feels okay, but then he keeps talking. “Couldn’t help it sometimes.” 

“Couldn’t help it.” Like you’re some irresistible thing, some off limits object. Bile stings the back of your throat but you swallow your vomit down. Maybe if you act okay with this then it will just end up being a funny story, a stupid mistake you both made. Maybe if you just pretend, then maybe you’ll be able to look him in the face again someday. 

Earlier you felt the excitement of taboo, the rush of playing a game. You felt in control when he was chasing you, when you led him up the stairs. Of course you didn’t think you were being hunted, you started this game with this man who you didn’t think was bad. You thought you were in control, that he was prey in your trap, but prey don’t chase. Prey don’t chase. 

Laying in his bed, nude, you are everything you thought you wanted to be. The fleeting dream of being his gutted rabbit, gently dissected, has become too real. You didn’t know what being gutted was until he was splitting you open, and though he was a kind man, you still bled. Small on the left side of the mattress, with your ears back and your cottontail between your legs, you wonder how long you will bleed for.

[kiwriteswords]

Tonight, you’re on my mind, so you’ll never know…

Chapter Two Out of Four (Possibly Five!)

Masterlist || Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 7k

Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical themes, sexual themes, hurt/comfort, angst, pining, mutual pining, spoilers for Criminal Minds seasons 1-12, friends to lovers, first-time, loss of virginity, grief, trauma, timeline of 8 year old!Hotch—Post CM!Hotch–please let me know if I am missing anything!

Sypnosis: Years have passed since you and Aaron Hotchner first crossed paths, but the connection you shared has never truly faded. In the wake of personal loss and career demands, your lives have taken different directions, leaving unresolved feelings and unspoken words lingering in the background. As fate pulls you back into each other’s orbit, you must navigate the delicate balance between duty, grief, and the possibility of rekindling something you thought was lost forever. In a world of danger, distance, and emotional walls, will you and Aaron finally confront the past—or let it slip away once more?

When Haley died, not long after you saw him, you felt the earth shift beneath your feet. 

You had known Aaron long enough to understand how much he loved her, how fiercely he had fought to keep her and Jack safe. The news of her death reached you like a punch to the gut, and you knew—without a doubt—that Aaron would never be the same.

You couldn’t bring yourself to go to the funeral, though you thought about it, agonized over it, until your hands shook with indecision. You wanted to be there, to offer your support, to let him know he wasn’t alone in this unbearable grief. 

But every time you imagined standing among the mourners, watching Aaron from a distance, you felt like an intruder on his pain, an uninvited ghost from his past.

Instead, you sent flowers—a beautiful, understated arrangement of white lilies and roses. You knew it wasn’t enough; it could never be enough. But it was all you could bring yourself to do. 

You wrote a simple note to accompany them: Thinking of you and Jack. I’m so sorry for your loss. – Y/N. 

As you sealed the envelope, you wondered if he’d even know they were from you, if he’d understand that behind those few words was an ocean of sorrow and regret, that you were mourning for him too.

The truth was, you never stopped thinking about him. You thought about him constantly—especially at night, when the world was quiet and you were left alone with your thoughts. You wondered how he was holding up, how he was managing to be strong for Jack when his own heart was shattered. You imagined him sitting alone in the dark, trying to keep it together for his son, and it broke you in ways you didn’t have words for.

The business card he’d left for you all those years ago was still tucked away in your desk drawer. Every now and then, you’d pull it out and trace your finger over his name, over the number that you’d never dialed. 

There had been so many nights when you’d come close, phone in hand, his number half-dialed, your thumb hovering over the call button. But each time, you hesitated, thinking that maybe too much time had passed, that maybe reaching out now would only complicate things, reopen old wounds.

You were terrified that he’d think you were only calling out of pity or obligation, not realizing that you never stopped caring, that you never stopped wanting to be part of his life. 

So, you let the moment slip through your fingers, again and again, convincing yourself that staying silent was the best way to honor the memory of what you’d once had.

You could confidently say you were strong on all accounts, but the heartbreak that haunted you like a ghost caused by what could have been was a bear you did not want to poke or agitate more than already occurred. 

What you didn’t know was that Aaron had been waiting for that call. He’d left his number for you because he thought—he hoped—that maybe you still felt something, that maybe you’d reach out when the time was right. 

But as the days turned into weeks, and then into months, with no word from you, he took your silence as a sign of disinterest, as confirmation that whatever feelings you’d once had for him were buried and gone.

He convinced himself that you had moved on with your life, that you were happy and content without him, and the thought of that hurt more than he ever let himself admit. He buried his feelings for you the way he buried everything else that hurt too much to face—deep inside, behind walls that even he couldn’t always tear down.

In the days after Haley’s funeral, Aaron Hotchner’s world felt like it had been turned inside out. He moved through the motions, numb and detached, his focus entirely on Jack and keeping his son’s shattered world from falling apart. Grief clung to him like a heavy fog, clouding every thought, every breath. It wasn’t until the house finally emptied of well-meaning guests, leaving him alone with Jack’s quiet sobs in the middle of the night, that he allowed himself to truly feel the weight of it all.

Amid the sea of sympathy cards, casseroles, and flower arrangements that had been left behind, there was one that caught his eye—a simple, understated arrangement of white lilies and roses. 

Something about the elegance and restraint of it made him pause, a flicker of recognition passing through his mind. He reached for the card tucked into the blooms, the handwriting familiar in a way that made his breath hitch.

Thinking of you and Jack. I’m so sorry for your loss. – Y/N.

Aaron stood there, the note trembling slightly in his hand. For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He read those words over and over again, feeling each letter like a whisper from a life he’d tried so hard to bury. You had sent them. 

Of all the people who might have reached out, it was you. The person who had once been his anchor, the one who always seemed to understand him in ways no one else ever could.

He ran his thumb over your name on the card, his mind swirling with a thousand thoughts he didn’t know how to untangle. Behind those few words, he could feel everything you hadn’t said—an ocean of sorrow, regret, and something deeper that he’d never been able to fully let go of. It was all there, hidden between the lines, like a message meant only for him.

He thought back to all those nights when he would sit alone in the darkness, the crushing weight of grief threatening to pull him under. He had tried to be strong for Jack, to hold it together for his son, but there were moments when the pain was too much, when the silence of the house echoed with memories of Haley and all the things he couldn’t change. 

And now, in the midst of that grief, knowing that you were out there somewhere, thinking of him—mourning with him—made it all the more unbearable.

The truth was, he had been waiting for something from you. Anything. A sign that you still cared, that he wasn’t alone in his grief. 

He had left his business card with you all those years ago, hoping that maybe you would reach out when the time was right. He had clung to the idea that you’d still feel something when you saw his number, that you’d dial it when you were ready.

But as the days turned into weeks, and then into months, and still he heard nothing, Aaron convinced himself that your silence was his answer. That whatever feelings you’d once had for him were buried under the weight of time and lost chances. 

He told himself that you were happy, that you had moved on, built a life that didn’t include him. It was a thought that hurt more than he’d ever let himself admit—a pain that he buried deep, behind walls he couldn’t afford to let crack.

What he didn’t know was that, in the quiet of your own nights, you held that same business card in your hands, your fingers tracing the letters of his name over and over again. That there were countless moments when you almost called, when his number hovered on your screen, and you hesitated—not because you didn’t want to reach out, but because you were terrified of what you might find on the other end of the line. That your silence wasn’t indifference, but fear of reopening old wounds, of complicating a life that seemed to have settled without you in it.

As he stood there, looking down at the lilies and roses you had sent, Aaron felt a wave of regret so intense it threatened to break him apart. He wished you had fought for him, wished you had asked him to pick you back when he still had the chance to choose. He had always believed that if you’d only said the words, if you had only asked him to stay, he would have done it in a heartbeat.

But now, in the quiet aftermath of his grief, he realized that he had been waiting for a sign from you all along—a sign that never came. And in its absence, he’d built a life that looked whole on the outside but felt empty on the inside. A life where the memory of you was always there, lingering just beneath the surface, like a song he could never forget.

He stared down at the flowers one last time, his fingers brushing over the petals, and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He had spent so much of his life building walls, hiding the pain behind a stoic facade. 

But now, in this moment of raw vulnerability, he let himself feel it all—the longing, the regret, the love he’d never quite let go of. And he knew, with a clarity that cut straight through his grief, that the only thing worse than losing Haley was knowing that he had lost you, too.

Because he had loved you then, in ways he never fully let himself admit. And a part of him still loved you now, even if it was too late to say it.

It did not take much to snap him out of the moment, though. Duties called--ones far greater and more significant than anything a badge could offer: Fatherhood. He knew he had to step up to the plate as a father, but more so now, trying to fill the very empty shoes Haley once wore. 

After Haley's death, Aaron found himself sitting in the dim light of his office late at night, the house silent except for the faint sound of Jack sleeping down the hall. 

He stared at his phone, your name already typed into the message field, his thumb hovering over the keys. The grief was suffocating, pressing on his chest in a way that made it hard to breathe, but you were the only person who had ever made that weight feel lighter. 

He started to type, the words fumbling through his mind—I don’t even know how to begin...—but then he stopped, his hand trembling as the memory of Haley’s last moments flooded his thoughts. 

Haley had been there through every transition, through the chaos of law school and the early days of his career. With her, things made sense. Their relationship was built on stability, on a history that he didn’t have with anyone else.

Even now, sitting in the quiet of his apartment, he knew that choosing Haley wasn’t just about love—it was about the life they had built together. It was about Jack, about providing a family, about keeping the promises he had made. Haley was his constant, the person who helped him stay grounded when the weight of the world felt too heavy. 

With you, it had always felt like a choice he couldn’t afford to make, because choosing you meant tearing apart everything he had already built.

It wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t ready, and maybe, he told himself, neither were you. 

With a quiet, resigned sigh, he deleted the message, tucking the phone away as the loneliness of the night settled back in.

It wasn’t long until you found yourself in the same shoes, your finger hovered over Aaron’s contact, hesitation gnawing at you. Before you could overthink it, you pressed the call button. After a few rings, someone answered, but it wasn’t Aaron’s familiar voice.

“BAU, Agent Morgan.”

You froze for a moment, taken aback. “Hi... I was looking for Aaron. Is he available?”

“He’s not here right now, he’s overseas on an assignment,” Morgan replied, his tone polite but measured, offering no further details. “Can I take a message?”

You hesitated, a lump forming in your throat. “No, that’s okay. Please don’t tell him I called. It’s nothing urgent.” 

As you ended the conversation and the call, a sense disappointment washed over you. Your thoughts were taken over by your door bell ringing. The guy you decided to give a chance--the nice guy who looked good on paper, you finally agreed to a first date. 

Here goes nothing, you thought.

The next time you saw Aaron was years later. By then, you were the head of trauma surgery at a major hospital near the BAU headquarters. 

You’d built a life for yourself that you were supposed to be proud of—rising through the ranks, saving lives every day—but even with all your success, something always felt like it was missing. You told yourself that you were over Aaron, that your feelings for him were relics of a past life. But some part of you knew that wasn’t true.

You had moved back to D.C., you couldn’t stay away. The call to return too great to ignore. In some weird ways you wondered in the back of your mind if that pull was him. 

Then, one afternoon, you got the call that changed everything. Agent Hotchner had collapsed, from internal bleeding and he was being rushed into your ER. The words echoed in your mind, your world narrowing to a single point as you tried to process them. 

Your hands shook as you gave the order for your team to take over, citing a conflict of interest that left your colleagues glancing at each other in confusion.

You looked over his chart and felt as if the years you had missed were being connected through Aaron’s traumatic medical chart. Damaged hearing, a stabbing…it was all too much. 

You watched from just outside the trauma room, your eyes fixed on Aaron’s pale face as your team worked to stabilize him. 

Your heart ached with the sight of him lying there, vulnerable and unconscious, so different from the strong, composed man you remembered. The urge to be by his side, to hold his hand and reassure him, was almost overwhelming. 

But the weight of all the years of silence, regret, and missed chances pressed down on you, keeping you frozen in place.

After a few tense moments, you saw the rest of his team gather in the waiting area, anxiously watching their fallen leader through the glass. They looked worried, their bond with him clear in their expressions. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you decided you couldn’t leave things unfinished, not again.

You approached them slowly, the sterile hallway stretching out before you as you made your way to the gathered group of agents. 

Your white coat felt heavier with each step, like it carried the weight of your past along with the present. When you finally reached them, you offered a small, professional smile, even though your nerves were betraying you.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Y/N L/N," you said, your voice calm and steady despite the swirl of emotions beneath the surface. "I’m the head of trauma surgery here. I wanted to let you know that we’re doing everything we can for Agent Hotchner."

The team turned their attention to you, a mix of relief and curiosity flickering in their eyes. Penelope Garcia stepped forward first, her expression softening with gratitude and something close to desperation. "Thank you, Doctor," she said, her voice tinged with raw emotion. "He’s… he’s one of us, you know? We’d be lost without him."

You hesitated for a moment, your gaze drifting to the floor before looking back up to meet their eyes. 

"I actually know Aaron," you said, the admission almost surreal after all this time. "We go way back—grade school, actually. We lost touch for a while but reconnected in college. We were close for a time before life took us in different directions."

As soon as you said those words, you noticed the subtle shift in their expressions. David Rossi’s eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of recognition lighting up his features. He exchanged a knowing glance with Derek Morgan, who raised his eyebrows in surprise. Rossi’s lips curved into a small, intrigued smile.

"Wait a second," Rossi said, his voice carrying that signature blend of curiosity and understanding. "You’re the one from that photo on Hotch’s bookshelf, aren’t you? The old picture from his college days. We always wondered about the story behind it."

You felt your cheeks flush slightly, caught off guard by the revelation that they knew about the photo. The same picture Aaron had kept all these years, the one you didn’t even know was still a part of his life. You nodded, a soft, bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. 

"I guess I am," you said quietly, your voice tinged with a touch of nostalgia. "We were close once, a long time ago."

Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise, her mouth dropping open slightly as she glanced back at Rossi and then at you. 

"Oh my gosh," she said, shaking her head slowly. "We’ve all seen that photo a million times and tried to guess who you were. He never talks about it—never mentioned you, not once. But I guess that’s typical Hotch, huh?"

You gave a tight smile, your gaze softening as you thought of Aaron’s habit of keeping his deepest feelings locked away, even from the people closest to him. 

"That sounds like him," you said, your voice laced with a fondness you couldn’t quite hide. "He’s always been good at keeping his mystery."

There was a moment of silence as the team absorbed the significance of what you’d just shared. It was as though a small piece of the puzzle that was Aaron Hotchner had suddenly fallen into place for them. They knew he didn’t open up easily, and to learn that you were someone important from his past felt like they were being let in on a part of his life they never fully understood.

With a slight hesitation, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper with your personal phone number written on it. You held it out to Penelope, feeling like you were offering up a piece of your own heart.

"When he wakes up," you said, carefully controlling the tremor in your voice, "could you give this to him? Just tell him that I was here and that I thought he might want to reach out, if he feels like it."

You knew you could call. Life seemed too chaotic for Aaron and you did not want to be an inconvenience. You wanted the ball to be in his court--you wanted him to make the move. You didn’t want to burden him. 

Penelope took the paper from you with a tenderness that surprised you, her eyes softening with empathy. She looked at you like she understood more than she was letting on, like she could see the layers of unspoken history between you and Hotch. 

"I’ll make sure he gets it," she said, her voice warm with kindness. "And, for what it’s worth, I think he’d want to know you were here."

You offered her a grateful nod, but the moment felt heavy, like you were leaving something unsaid, something lodged in the space between who you were and who you used to be. With one last glance at the group, you turned and walked away, each step feeling like you were tearing yourself from a past that refused to let go.

You stood just outside the hospital room, your hand resting on the doorframe, watching through the small glass window as Aaron lay unconscious. 

Every instinct told you to go in, to sit by his side, to be there for him like you had been so many years ago. But something held you back—something more than the sterile walls of the hospital. 

It was the weight of everything he had been through. Haley’s death. Raising Jack alone. His life was already so heavy, and you couldn’t bear the thought of adding another layer of complexity to it. 

Was it selfish to want to see him? To reconnect, knowing how much he had already lost? 

Your pulse quickened, your heart warring with your mind. You weren’t sure if stepping back into his world would heal old wounds or tear them open again.

Inside the room, Aaron stirred slightly, but he didn’t know you were there, just beyond the door. 

Even in the haze of pain and medication, his mind circled back to Jack—his first thought always his son, as it had been ever since Haley’s death. 

He had built his life around being a father, and any decisions, even those tied to lingering feelings for you, had to take that into account. He had pushed his emotions down for years, focusing on what Jack needed, on what the job demanded. 

But lying there in the quiet of the hospital room, his thoughts kept drifting to you. What would it mean to let you back into his life, to let himself feel again, after everything he had lost? Could he afford that risk? Jack needed stability, not more upheaval, and Aaron wasn’t sure if he could be both—Jack’s anchor and someone who opened his heart again.

You lingered for another moment, torn between wanting to reach for the handle and the fear of disrupting a life that wasn’t yours to complicate. 

In the end, you stepped back, leaving the connection between you suspended, unresolved. You weren’t sure if it was the right decision, but you told yourself that staying away was what Aaron needed, even if it wasn’t what you wanted.

You waited until Aaron was stable and as you left the hospital that night, your mind raced back to the picture Rossi had mentioned—the one of you and Aaron from those college days. The fact that he’d kept it all these years, through everything, felt like a thread that still connected your lives, no matter how far apart you’d drifted. 

But when you went home to your fiancé—a man who was kind and stable, the kind of man you thought you needed—you couldn’t shake the image of Aaron lying in that hospital bed. And you realized, with a dull ache in your chest, that a part of your heart had never really stopped waiting for him to come back to you.

As the night wore on, the realization hit you like a wave crashing over your carefully built defenses. You were living a lie. You couldn’t marry this man, not when your heart had always been tied to someone else, someone who still held a piece of you after all these years. 

You broke it off with your fiancé, your voice shaking as you told him that he deserved someone who could love him completely. It was one of the hardest things you’d ever done, but you knew it was the right decision.

When Aaron Hotchner finally woke up, the bright lights of the hospital room made him squint, his head pounding with the remnants of his collapse. As his vision cleared, he saw Penelope Garcia sitting by his side, her face lighting up with relief the moment his eyes opened.

"Aaron, thank goodness!" Penelope exclaimed, her voice wobbling with emotion. "You scared the hell out of us. Don’t you ever do that again!"

He offered her a faint smile, trying to sit up despite the weakness in his limbs. "I’ll do my best," he said, his voice hoarse. "What happened?"

Penelope filled him in on the details of his condition, but then her expression shifted, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Oh, and by the way, you had a visitor," she said, a little smile playing on her lips. "Dr. Y/N L/N, the head of trauma surgery. She was here when they brought you in. The one I looked up for you all those years ago!"

Aaron’s breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of your name. "Y/N was here?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. 

Hearing your name again, spoken aloud, was like a rush of warmth and memories flooding back into his chest. Memories of college, of late nights and soft conversations, of what could have been.

"Yep," Penelope said, her smile widening. "I didn’t realize she’s the one from the photo in your office. She even left her number for you to call her when you’re feeling up to it." She handed him the slip of paper with your number on it, and he took it, staring at it like it was a lifeline to something he thought he’d lost forever.

But before he could fully process what this might mean, Penelope's face softened with a hint of guilt. 

"Okay, confession time," she said, wincing slightly. "I may have done a little updated cyber-stalking on Dr. Y/N, and well... she’s engaged, Hotch. To some guy who looks like he has an investment portfolio and a golf handicap. You know the type."

Aaron’s heart sank, the hopeful flutter in his chest turning to a heavy thud. He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand, your number staring back at him like a taunt. All those years ago, he’d left his number for you, hoping you’d reach out, hoping you still cared. When you didn’t call, he’d told himself that you’d moved on, that you were happier without him in your life. The flowers to Haley’s funeral were welcomed, but that time in his life was such a blur, yet he can still remember the arrangement if he closed his eyes long enough.

And now, here you were, engaged to someone else, seemingly on the brink of starting a new life that didn’t include him. It felt like history was repeating itself, like he’d opened himself up to the possibility of you again, only to be reminded that maybe it was never meant to be.

He tucked the piece of paper into his pocket, forcing a tight smile onto his face for Penelope’s sake. "Thank you, Garcia," he said softly. "But I don’t think I’ll be using it."

Penelope looked at him with a trace of sympathy, understanding the hidden hurt in his eyes. "You sure, Hotch? She seemed really worried about you. And... I don’t know, it felt like there was more there."

His fingers tightened slightly around the slip of paper, and for a moment, he was tempted to crumble it up, to discard the hope that had briefly flickered to life. But instead, he carefully folded the paper and placed it on the small tray table beside his bed, his expression unreadable.

"Thanks for letting me know, Garcia," he said simply, his voice steady and controlled, giving nothing away.

Penelope nodded, her usual chatter subdued as she took in the calm but distant look in his eyes. "If you need anything, or if you want to talk about it, you know where to find me," she offered, her voice softer now.

Hotch gave her a small nod, a flicker of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I appreciate that," he said, and it was clear that he wasn’t going to say anything more.

When Penelope finally left the room, Aaron lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts a tangled mess of emotions he kept locked away. 

He thought about you—about how you always seemed to show up in his life when he least expected it, like a constant he could never quite shake. The thought of you engaged to someone else, building a life without him, was like a knife twisting in his chest, but he would never let anyone see that pain.

More time had passed since you last saw Aaron Hotchner, and you had tried to bury the memories of your connection deep within the responsibilities of your demanding career. You had almost convinced yourself that he was a part of your past, that life had moved on without him. But then, fate threw him back into your life once more.

The ER was filled with its usual chaos when you caught wind of the commotion coming from one of the trauma rooms. The sharp, familiar voice drifting through the slightly open door stopped you in your tracks. It was a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime, but one that still had the power to make your pulse quicken.

"No, I’m fine," you heard Aaron Hotchner say, his tone clipped and full of irritation. "I don’t need to be here; I need to get back to my team."

"Sir, you need to be evaluated," the attending doctor insisted, exasperation clear in their voice. "We don’t even know what drugs you were exposed to."

You pushed open the door to the trauma room, your gaze locking onto Aaron almost immediately. He was standing there, stubborn as ever, his expression a mix of frustration and determination. His suit was disheveled and dirty, his tie hanging loose, and a laceration marred his otherwise composed face. Despite everything, he still looked like the man who had once held your heart.

"Excuse me, Doctor," you said, stepping in smoothly. "I’ll take it from here."

Aaron’s eyes shot up to meet yours, the annoyance in his expression softening into something else entirely—something that looked like relief mixed with surprise. 

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered, a faint smile twitching at the corners of his mouth despite the circumstances. "What are the odds?"

You ignored the flutter in your chest as you gave him a stern look. 

"Sit down, Hotchner," you said, crossing your arms. "Let me do my job, or I’ll sedate you myself if I have to." 

He let out a small, resigned huff but obeyed, lowering himself onto the examination table. 

"I see you haven’t changed much," he said, his voice softer now, almost teasing.

"And you haven’t changed at all," you replied with a grin. "Still as stubborn as ever."

You began checking his vitals, your fingers brushing lightly against his wrist as you took his pulse. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he was holding himself together, like he was fighting to keep control. 

"Tell me what happened," you said, your voice more clinical now as you tried to focus on the task at hand.

He sighed, "The unsub we are dealing with," He shared the minor details of the case--what he could, filling you in on all he could share. It flowed easily talking to you though. Easier than it did over the years trying to tell Haley--or even Beth some of the gruesome details of his job. It was as if he knew you could take it--you were a different brand of strength than they were.

You gave him a pointed look as you adjusted the blood pressure cuff around his arm. 

"Humor me," you said, arching an eyebrow. "Let’s make sure there aren’t any lasting effects before you go charging off to save the day."

He opened his mouth to argue but then shut it, watching you work with a mixture of frustration and something else—something softer that he didn’t quite let reach his eyes.

You ordered a few tests to identify the drug in his system, then turned your attention to the small laceration on his face. You took out a suture kit and began to clean the wound, your touch gentle but precise.

"Hold still," you said, focusing on your work. "I’d hate to be responsible for ruining that beautiful face of yours."

A ghost of a smile crossed Aaron’s lips, a rare lightness in his expression. "I didn’t realize you cared so much about my looks," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. "Just trying to keep the world’s best profiler looking his best," you shot back. "Can’t have you intimidating the bad guys with a face full of scars."

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a warmth through your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time. For a moment, it was like you were back in college, bantering over late-night coffee, before life got so complicated.

As you finished the last stitch, you gently dabbed the area around the wound. Your hand lingered on his cheek just a second longer than necessary, and when you pulled back, you could feel the shift in the air between you—like the unspoken words were almost too loud to ignore.

"There," you said, taking a step back, your voice a little shakier than you intended. "You’re good to go, Hotchner. No excuses now."

Aaron held your gaze for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and tinged with a vulnerability you weren’t expecting.

"Why didn’t you ever call?" he asked, his eyes never leaving yours. "All those years ago, I left my number for you, and you never called."

You felt the words hit you like a punch to the gut, all the memories and regrets rushing back in a flood you weren’t prepared for. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got tangled up with your emotions. You hadn’t expected this moment, hadn’t expected him to ask.

"I—" you started, then stopped, taking a breath to steady yourself. "I wanted to, Aaron. I really did. But I convinced myself it was better this way, that you had your life with Haley and Jack, and I didn’t want to complicate things."

He watched you, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to read every thought, every hesitation you’d ever had. 

"You never complicated anything," he said quietly. "You were the one thing that always made sense."

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. "I was afraid," you admitted. "Afraid that maybe I missed my chance, that too much time had passed. I over thought time and time again, the email I sent…or the time you didn’t call me after you collapsed." 

It was as if you were rambling now--the once confident and sure doctor now felt small and worried over details of what could fill a book with you and Aaron as the protagonists. 

Aaron reached out then, his hand covering yours where it rested on the table. His touch was warm, grounding you in a way that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for the two of you.

“I suppose we were both hesitant,” he said, his voice quiet but resolute. He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with a steady intensity. “But it doesn’t have to be too late. Not for us.”

You looked up at him, your heart in your throat, the weight of all your missed chances hanging in the air between you. For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to hope—that maybe this time, the universe would finally let you and Aaron Hotchner find your way to each other.

And in that moment, as he held your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, you knew that this was far from over—that there was still so much left to say, and that this time, you weren’t going to let him slip through your fingers.

Aaron’s hand was still resting on yours, his eyes holding yours with a kind of intensity that made it impossible to look away. For the first time in years, it felt like the universe was giving you both a moment to finally be honest with each other, to close the gap that had always seemed to stretch between you.

But then, just as you opened your mouth to say something, the shrill ring of his phone shattered the moment. Aaron’s eyes flicked downward to the screen, his face softening slightly when he saw the caller ID.

“It’s Jack,” he said, a mixture of warmth and concern in his voice. You could see how quickly his priorities shifted; everything about him changed when it came to his son. There was a tenderness there, a fierce sense of responsibility that never wavered, even in the face of all the chaos around him.

You offered a small, understanding smile, even though your heart sank just a little. You were reminded of being there--seeing Aaron the day Jack was born. What, was that nine? Ten years ago? 

“Go,” you said softly, nodding toward the door. “He needs you.”

Aaron hesitated, his hand lingering on yours for a moment longer. He seemed torn, like he didn’t want to leave without making sure you both knew where things stood between you. Finally, he gave your hand one last squeeze before letting go, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin.

He answered the call, turning slightly away from you as he spoke to Jack. His voice softened, the way it always did when he was talking to his son, full of patience and love. “Hey, buddy,” he said, his tone gentle. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m at the hospital, but everything’s fine. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

When he hung up, he turned back to you, his eyes searching yours with that same intensity that always seemed to cut right through to your soul. “I have to go see Jack,” he said, and the regret in his voice was undeniable. “He needs me right now.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, knowing that this was who Aaron Hotchner was—a father first, a protector. It was one of the things you’d always admired about him, even when it meant he had to walk away.

“I understand,” you said quietly, offering him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Go be with him. He’s lucky to have you.”

Aaron took a step toward the door but then stopped, turning back to you one last time. His expression was conflicted, like he was fighting to find the right words. Finally, he asked the question that hung in the air between you like a lifeline, a chance to reach out for something real.

“What next?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, but heavy with meaning. The vulnerability in his eyes was raw and unguarded, the kind of look that left you breathless.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you realized that this was it—the moment you’d both been waiting for, the chance to finally lay all your cards on the table. 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, your voice cracking slightly. “But I want to find out. I don’t want to keep missing our chances, Aaron.”

A small, relieved smile spread across his face, like the answer you gave was exactly what he’d been hoping for. 

“Me neither,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m tired of being out of sync with you.”

For a heartbeat, you both stood there, neither of you quite willing to break the connection, even as the reality of his world and yours pulled at him. You could see the weight of his responsibilities in his eyes, the knowledge that his life would always be complicated, always full of shadows that might pull him away at any moment.

He reached out, brushing a thumb lightly over your cheek, a gesture so tender it made your heart ache. 

“I’ll call you,” he promised, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “This time, I won’t let it slip away.”

You nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill, knowing that you’d hold him to that promise. “Be safe,” you whispered, your voice almost breaking.

He gave you one last lingering look, the kind of look that spoke of all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. Then, with a reluctant smile, he turned and left the room, his figure disappearing into the chaos of the hospital corridor.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where he’d been, your heart still racing from the intensity of everything that had just happened. And even though he was gone, you felt a sense of hope that you hadn’t felt in years—a feeling that maybe, this time, the timing could finally be right.

As you turned back to your work, a small smile played on your lips, the warmth of his touch still tingling on your skin. You didn’t know what was next, but you knew one thing for sure: you weren’t going to let him slip away this time. Not without a fight.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

[echodrops]

So, given Dabi's perceived incompetence, you think his scars are self inflicted? I figured that, if Dabi is indeed Touya, he must have tried to impress Endeavor and show him that he is "worth it". So he probably tried to train himself in seclusion. But with a body meant for ice, he was not able to handle the flames and ended up burning himself and running away, traumatized or something along those lines. Admittedly, it could be a stretch, since we have no details on what exactly happened.

Post is NOT spoiler free, watch out anime-only fans~!

Had a bunch of asks about Dabi in my inbox after my Dabi post but I got distracted thinking about ships… I’m back now and gonna answer a few that are all about that Dabi is a Todoroki theory~

Look man, if he’s not Touya, I will officially be the S H O O K E S T. At this point, the real plot twist would be if he wasn’t! I really think there are just so many signs at this point that I can’t make myself believe it won’t happen. I mean the fact that Horikoshi deliberately drew Endeavor’s eyesight being damaged before his confrontation with Dabi so that Endeavor wouldn’t be able to see him clearly??? COME ON.

But man we’re all going to look so stupid if he isn’t Touya…

Rest under the read more to save people’s dashes:

As for how Dabi got his scars… I don’t have any answers, of course, just my own theories and conjectures based on vague statements and panels in the manga…

I guess first I’d point out that while we don’t know really much about Touya at all, we do know a couple things:

1) He physically took after Rei way more than Natsuo or Fuyumi did. Despite being Natsuo’s confirmed older brother, Touya was a tiny kid. Given that he would have to very close to Fuyumi in age or older than her, the fact that he was shorter than his sister just makes this all the more noticeable. This kind of tininess is usually (although of course not always) a deliberate visual indicator that there was something wrong with the child’s health. Looking at the only two panels he appears in definitely gives the impression that he was a pretty fragile-looking kid who I would not be surprised to hear had health problems (bad fevers from an overpowered fire quirk, anyone?).

2) His posture in this frame is also pretty telling. They all look nervous–it’s obvious they’re being looked at by Endeavor and are uncomfortable with it–but while Natsuo looks a little shame-faced and Fuyumi a little confused, Touya is clutching his hands together in a classic “timid child” pose. It seems likely to me that he wasn’t an especially assertive kid.

3) Then there’s the whole hair issue–is his hair red like the anime or white like the manga? The only reason I could see for not coloring his hair dark in the manga is that Horikoshi specifically uses black ink for the red color of the Todoroki family’s hair–coloring Touya’s hair completely black would make it beyond obvious that he’s Dabi. But still, couldn’t he have used tone like he does for Kirishima’s hair? We know that white hair = ice quirk, so I am very interested to find out whether the anime has it right in using red, or whether the white used in the manga is plot relevant, and we’re going to find that Touya really did have a body meant for an ice quirk…

4) We also have Natsuo’s ominous comment:

To me at least, this statement seems somehow… specific? Like there was some Big Deal™ that immediately caused Touya not to be in their lives anymore, and Endeavor was directly involved in it. Natsuo definitely strikes me as the type who would blame Endeavor for a training accident, even if Touya was training of his own free will, but I can’t personally shake the feeling that Endeavor was right there whenever the Bad Thing with Touya happened and that Endeavor, Fuyumi, and Natsuo all know more about Touya’s fate than they’re willing to talk about. I think it’s important that we’ve never seen a scene of Natsuo and Fuyumi getting any close looks at Dabi either.

6) The kids’ ages are important I think. Shouto is about five years old when he sees his siblings playing soccer, and they all looked about the same age there as in this second screen cap, although I wouldn’t put Fuyumi at 12 in the screen cap above, so maybe not… In any case, we know that Shouto was already in training (~5 years old) and Touya had no major visible scars. So Touya made it to at least 12 years old without doing major damage to his body (although of course it could be under the clothes). Based on that, personally I would doubt a bit that he was training and burning himself in secret, at least not for any extended amount of time.

6) The one piece of evidence we have for figuring out what actually happened to cause the scars is the burn pattern itself, especially on Dabi’s face. One thing that people have often pointed out is that Dabi’s facial burns line up fairly well with the places fire also settles on Endeavor’s face:

Also I’m pretty sure Dabi officially qualifies as BNHA’s biggest glow up. If you compare chapter 67 to chapter 190 it’s like looking at two totally different characters lol

But, more importantly than this, I think, is the fact that we never see Dabi’s fire take this shape in the manga. Although in a couple of scenes his flames have covered parts of his face, we’ve never–not even one time–seen fire specifically come from below his eyes or around his mouth like Endeavor. This is not something that normally happens with his quirk–which could mean that he was copying Endeavor when the injuries occurred.

So what did happen?

I don’t know, but if you ask me for a personal headcanon about it:

In a desperate attempt to protect his mother from being taken away and forced into the mental institution, Touya Todoroki challenged his father to a fight he could never win and pushed his own body so far beyond its limits that he nearly died.

I mean, if sweet baby Shouto had a reaction this intense:

Just imagine the reaction of the children who would have been conscious to see their mother ripped away from their home, possibly violently, possibly forever? With Rei having snapped hard enough to attack Shouto, I can’t imagine that she would have taken well to Endeavor physically confronting and restraining her to force her away… It could have been quite a horrific scene in the house after Shouto passed out from the pain, and what better way to cover up damage to one kid then to blame Rei, who had already damaged the other? This would help lend greater credence to Rei still being in the mental institution too: if the doctors have her on the record for causing or at least provoking the injuries of not one son but two…

Obviously such a fragile-looking child as Touya, who we know was never formally trained, would have stood no chance against an absolutely enraged Endeavor, but if we know one thing about the Todoroki family, it’s that they’re stubborn beyond belief. Endeavor probably batted aside his failure of an eldest son like it was nothing… but Touya refused to stay down. I think, overwhelmed by hatred and resentment, he put everything he had into trying to fight back against his father, bursting with flames too hot for his ill-suited body, heedless of his own pain.

That break in Dabi’s bottom lip is from the unprotected skin splitting as he screamed in rage and agony while on fire. Just sayin’!!

And even after going beyond his limits in every way, to still inevitably be crushed beneath his father’s heel… I can’t imagine the degree of loathing such a miserable defeat would make a child feel for heroes and all of hero society who let down the Todoroki siblings so badly…

If Touya ran from the hospital afterward, we could even be looking at a situation in which Dabi has been raising himself all alone since he was 12 or 13. Hell, he might even have caught the tail-end of Stain’s soapbox speeches about the revival of heroics while living out on streets…

BUT, YOU KNOW, that’s just my imagination running wild. XDD

I’m sure that my headcanon is too exaggerated to be true, but I do think the scars are self-inflicted and that Touya did fight with Endeavor at some point before abruptly leaving the Todoroki household.

Or… he’s not even a Todoroki and he totally gave himself those scars just to look cool or something lolol.

It’s SYMBOLICCCCC.

Okay, being a little more serious, I think it’s mostly being used the same way as that one scene of Itachi in the rain in Naruto:

Holy shit I never thought I’d be looking at a page of the Naruto manga again…

It’s basically a scene used to humanize and show a tiny glimpse of a “villain” character’s hidden depths–is Dabi all evil, or is there some softness underneath?

The blood is definitely supposed to symbolically represent tears, which actively tells the reader “Something about the idea of families hurts Dabi.” Coupled with the fact that he’s also smiling in a way that does not suit the moment at all and talking about how thinking about what Snatch said actually drove Dabi crazy, I think we’re also supposed to be getting the feeling that Dabi is not quite as calm and collected as he seems to be on the surface. We all love to call him the “sane man” in the League of Villains’ sea of crazy, but it’s entirely possible that Dabi is experiencing or has, at some point, experienced a psychotic break and that the almost lazy, unaffected behavior we see from him most of the time is little more than a thin veneer on top of a much less stable inner-mind…

What interests me is how many people (even the BNHA wiki) seem to suggest that these symbolic blood tears indicate that Dabi feels remorse for the families of all his victims… But I wonder if that’s really the case at all.

Does he feel remorse regarding his victims’ families… or only his own? While I think it’s tempting to imply that Dabi feels bad about all the families he’s hurt in general (which would be a good redemption arc flag), I’m actually inclined to think that Dabi is a little more self-centered character than that, and it’s his own family that’s on his mind here, not guilt over strangers he’s never met and never will meet.

I lol’d. Even more than that–by saying this to Endeavor, he’s almost certainly ensured another Dabi vs. Endeavor clash in the future, so like… he basically gave his dad impenetrable plot armor for another 50-100 chapters. XDDD

Dabi, my dear heart, why are you such a dumpster fire???

[theredsuzuran]

Kᴏᴋᴜsʜɪʙᴏᴜ, ᴅᴏᴜᴍᴀ x ғᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ [ NSFW ❣︎ ]

ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵐᵘᵗ ˢᵒ ᵃᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ʸᵃʸ¡

Kokushibou~

Tags : non-con, dom-sub, hate sex, fingering, creampie, belly bulge.

"I believe you want to decapitate my head, no?"

The demon spoke calmly while teasing that swollen clit of yours on the other hand his long wide digits pumped in and out of your tight wet core vigorously. Ending up like this after dedicating your life to the crops is rather humiliating but instead of cowering with shame and disgust, you find yourself enjoying every thrust that penetrated deep inside the clenched hole of yours, prevailing a pure state of ecstacy.

"Speak of yourself filthy demon" you managed to speak between low grunts by resuming the lweds noises from escaping your soft trembling lips. A series of swift slaps landed onto your bare tits molding the flesh roughly in the process accompanied with pinches in the hypersensitive bud erected high due to its intensity. Your knees shuddering with each blow as kokushibo slaps harder simultaneously in your hip and breast without mercy.

How did you two end up like, this night was supposed to predict the future of humanity, either one of your demise, yet there you were being fucked by your sworn enemy. Hate was an understatement to define the feelings you store for him, lothe was the correct word. You loathed him for long as you can remember starting from the way he overpowers you to the way you whimper helplessly beneath his touch. All the insults he throws at you with his gaze locked directly over your frail quivering frame, caressing your forbidden places, fluids overflow shamelessly from your heated cunt.

Hovering on top of your small delicate body, the tall demon bends you aggressively against the tree stem. Fearing what might happen next, you tearfully pleaded but was it too late for he gropes your hips with such force rubbing his cock in between them.

"Weak" is all that come out from the silence, that one thing you never wanted to hear especially from him, it was unacceptable how he honorably stood as if he was mocking at your pathetic state while you lower you head down due to mind numbing pleasure, unable to put up with this degradation you decided to work on your impulses, applying all your remaining force you lifted your head only to be pressed down allowing him to hold a fistful of your hair roughly. 

"You think you can defeat an upper rank?" he yanked your hair roughly causing you to flinch with pain, and before you knew his member slide inside your drenched opening, you clinged onto his toned chest scratching his shoulders. He began pounding you with inhuman speed, his other hand spreading your leg wide as he mercilessly pumped his shaft upto your cervix creating concussions all over your body, belly bulging out due to his length. The forest filled with lwed moans, pants and grunts accompanied with sloppy noises of bare skin clapping against one another as the two of you continue to bang.

"Look at me" kokushibo ordered with his low voice, as an act of rebellion you refuse to listen to him gritting your teeth in protest. Suddenly he grabbed your face roughly to stare at you with his menacing eyes, your faces inches apart ready to mingle with burning passion but now would he let your lips connect? Demons are not capable of experiencing emotions anymore for they have abandoned their humanity long ago and before you stood one of the most ruthless, cruel demon of all time dominating your fragile little body like a play thing. Saliva drooling off your mouth while your tounge sticking out as he increases his pace gradually, upon witnessing the pathetic sight of yours, he chockes you earning moans of his name from your lips. There was nothing more you wanted than his cock. He shoots it warming up your walls while your juices coating his member reaching your respective orgasm, he releases you from his grip making you fall onto the ground, his hot seeds oozing out off your pussy. Just as you thought your miseries have ended and your life as well he pulled you up the ground earning a loud shriek in response, his usual calm face curving slightly into a sinister expression.

"I know exactly how to break you, (y/n)"

Douma~

Tags : mastrabation, degrading, oral sex, cock worship.

You have always loved the eccentric cult leader from afar which begun from exchanging a glance, you were just an insignificant maid like some other women in his prismatic pair of eyes but devoting your life and soul for his upmost affection became your priority. Everybody desires that whole heartedly you never consider yourself as an exception but you dared intoxicating your thoughts spending tedious nights imagining yourself indulged in sinful pleasure.

Just like any normal day, you were assigned to do chores around the cult including tending your master's room. His scent lingered as you prepared the cushions he would he sitting later "douma s-sama" your lips parted to chante his name, fingers automatically rubbing over the fabric of your heated spot forming inbetween shaking thighs, trembling, as all kind of dirty thoughts engulf your mind Sitting onto the bed you spread them, so blissfully unaware that the one watches intently.

"Look who we have here, (y/n)~ touching herself while calling her master's name" you jolted upwards in utter shock soon turning into shame.

"Don't mind me, continue what you were doing dove" the man beamed with excitement as his lustful gaze roamed upside down.

"I-" you hesitantly replied.

"I won't ask you twice, if you don't want me to force you, do what I say you useless slut" his tone changed in a matter of second the carefree smile he puts up usually is replaced to a completely unemotional one scaring you for you followed his orders fearfully by rubbing your clit infront of him avoiding eye contact. He locked his eyes directly on that dripping entrance. Your wildest fantasies have come to reality.

"Come here" which you immediately obliged to, he motioned to the tent forming in his pants. "Suck" you touched the length with your hand carefully unzipping the fabric, his scent filled your nostrils captivating you to take that inside your warm mouth and you did, swirling your tongue around it kissing and sucking it gradually making the demon groan in satisfaction. You bobbed your head slowly adjusting to his big size and start sucking it upside down when suddenly you were bend down with his nose poking at your wet core, hot breath tickling onto your pussy.

"I thought it would be rude of me to enjoy on my own" he explained his expression just the same as usual as if nothing like that happened before. He stretch his tongue out to have a good taste of your wet little slit. "Oh, did I allow you to stop now, dove?" Then he began assaulting that area vigorously with his long wide tongue making it hard for you to clinge onto his cock. You scream with pure ecstasy while he continue licking and teasing your vulva occasionally sucking on it, each time harder than before. You manage to suck his cock trying to match with his inhuman speed, then he suddenly pull out a string of saliva mixed with your fluids connecting his tongue.

"You really like it no? You have to beg for it if you do" a devilish smirk formed on his features. "I do" you replied trying to clasp the area he assaulted minutes before. "No, be specific, say you are horny little slut who wants to be touched" douma explained his smile never fading away. "Please.." tears forming your eyes, who knew he'd be so sadistic but you can't deny you loved every inch of it however he pocked onto your sensitive erected clit with his sharp nails just enough to not scratch it. "You won't? Too bad" he rubbed it slightly driving you crazy.

"I- want I-it"

"Mm? You want what dove?"

"I want you to touch me master for I am a horny little slut who needs your attention.. please master" you mwealed unable to take his teasing anymore, he bit your clit harshly making you squirm in pain, your walls tightened releasing all the pent up frustration you have stored over his face, you collapsed your eyes rolled back, tongue sticking out.

"That's it?" Douma pouted.

"But don't worry you have to yet make me cum, this day's gonna be so long (y/n)"

[missfalcon]

I never planned to have you on my mind this often

pairing: Alma Peregrine x reader

summary: Alma returns to the letter from you, her lover.

warnings: mention of death

words: 1k

request: @darlingimlostwithout This sunshine asked for a fic where Alma and the reader were friends/lovers in their youth. This inspired me to write this.

a/n: I must have looked rediculous crying in class making "notes". It was supposed to be fluff at first, but I got lost on the way.

I almost forgot, I opened the tag list so if you want to be added please write to me.

Alma never thought she would be in this place, in this situation. There was no longer the same woman in front of the tombstone, but the wreckage of a human with broken heart, who was tormented by remorse. Despite her serious expression on everyday life, her eyes always shone with a joy that was gone now. It disappeared just like you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Hello, my dear. You wanted to talk." Alma entered the academy garden, you wanted privacy.

"Yes, thank you for coming." The woman sat on the bench next to you, god, she didn't make it any easier. When she was around you couldn't think straight, and now you wanted to gather your thoughts and choose your words.

"Why are you so nervous. Did something happen?" There was sincere concern on her face, the woman was worried about you, she always will be. It was hard to hide something from her, Alma knew you like no one else. Your heart always started racing when she remembered little things and noticed small changes in your behavior. You were grateful to her for that because she could see that something was wrong.

"Yes. I mean no. I mean..." You paused to breathe and she gave you a break looking at you with her soft eyes." I have to tell you something very important, but I'm really afraid of your reaction, not like you ever hurt me..." In this moment, you started to get confused again.

"Eassy, take your time. I can see it is difficult for you which causes my concern. Listen, whatever you say it won't change anything between us.” There was the point, you wanted to change something.

"You are the dearest person to me and I misereble that you are leaving, even though I knew it would happen someday. Each of us will leave and crate own loop, and we may not seing each other that often. I know it's our duty and what we're doing is right, but it bothers me."

As slow she dared, Alma let her hand slip into yours. From the corner of her eyes, she spotted the slight uptick of your mouth.

"You are not a person easy to forget, my bird. I understand your nervousness and please believe me, it's painful for me to leave and..." She looked up at you again and smiled reassuringly rubbing your hand. "Tell me what's going on." She pressed your hand to her lips.

"I can't obscure this anymore. The more I hide my feelings for you. The more I fall for you, Alma. I... I love you."

Alma froze. Although her heart sang at your words, a chilling coldness settled over her body.

At that moment, Alma understood the feelings she had for you, which she couldn't name up to that point. Love.

There was a look in your eyes, one she only knew so well. She never knew what to call it, but now she did.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I just... I needed you to know."

She just looked at you and not know what to say, and it terrified her. It terrified her that her feelings for you prevented her from choosing her words.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Alma found herself crying when a tear fell on the two envelopes. She wiped her eyes trying to regain her reserved look.

With gently trembling hands, she pulled a sheet of paper from an already open envelope. Some time after your parting, you wrote to her, she kept this letter

Dear Alma,

I feel obligated to write to you after our last encounter. I owe you an apology, I didn't want to put you in such a situation, but I assured you of the truthfulness of my words.

I was wondering what you thought about me on the day you left, you didn't say a word to me. That's why I waited so long with this letter, I didn't know if you want talk with me.

I know you love me, but you don't love the way I love you. I don't know which one is worse.

But if one day... I'll always wait for you. Until then, I pushed everyone else away because they weren't you. I wonder if you ever just stop and think about me. I hope you will come back to me. Even if all we'll ever be is just friends, I'll still take that.

Always yours,

Y/N.

If only she had been a little more brave.

Then maybe Alma would have told you how she felt. Because if she's ever regretted anything, it was not saying those words back to you.

Her gaze shifted to an envelope addressed to you, she never sent her reply. She hated herself for it, she will never forgive herself for it.

My lovely Y/N,

I didn't say anything that day because stay silence was easier than saying how I feel about you.

You are worried that I have stopped thinking about you. I guess you should know that when I visited the academy, Miss Avocet asked me if this place remind me of you. I laughet becauce, well, everything does. I never planned to have you on my mind this often.

I am at fault, you deserve my apologies. Please forgive me.

I love you the same way, I hope you still love me.

Always loving you,

Alma.

A scream full of distress escaped from her mouth and spasmodic sobs enveloped her body.

Knees buckled under her. She was kneeling on the ground, weeping, with the letters pressed against her chest, and pain showed on her face.

"I love you, Y/N. My little bird, I do. I won't forgive myself for never telling you that."

[bemylord]

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʀᴀɢʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏxɪᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ

↳ synopsis: because of the intoxicating smell, megumi's heat comes early, as if by chance - the pills are out and he should please himself. when he just starts to relax, he feels someone else's hands on his hips.

↳ theme: au + omegaverse.

↳ warnings: aged up, unprotected sex, non-canonical behavior, marking, oral, toy [dildo], true couple [?], gagging, spank [once], anal, first time, heat. + sukuna being soft.

↳ word counter: 2.9k

↳ level description: i have bestowed curses the unusual phenomenon of being able to conceal a scent. also, to emit a scent when the owner of the body wants to. i have endowed omegas and alphas with various features, for example: omega [not everyone] could purr, plus the alpha fangs for the tag.

the heat practically had come out of sudden - megumi hates those days when he's a weak, pliable omega and he has no alpha. such a destitute, defenseless little boy who is so desperate to please himself.

'when you're in the heat, better not leave the house. alphas can sense heathens omegas.' his teacher, gojou satoru, have warned him in the first grade when he had started to smell like an omega. he accepted his destiny quickly by being surrounded by alphas - yuuji, gojou, nanami, and that mocking king which is the alpha, although for years of being the king of curses he had learned to harbor a scent within himself, radiating only during battles.

not that megumi was interested in the king, just he has never smell his fragrance. does the curse have one? never mind, sukuna will never gonna be the one whom megumi will think in the heat.

yuuji always reminds his friend he or sukuna won't touch him in the heat. they're just being friends, however, is hard for megumi to disobeying his friend, over a voice. the husky and low voice of alpha can shut the omega without an eye contact - damnable omega essence.

megumi once purred when yuuji complimented his outfit, the gorgeous linen white shirt and black pants, the simple, but it was the effective one. itadori restrained sukuna for letting out the dirty joke about how malleable the omega was, by emitting a kind of snarl.

'sorry, megumi-san, i needed to calm down sukuna.'

damnable omega essence.

fushiguro megumi is nineteen and he had two heats: the first one he had after three months of turning eighteen. the heat was so exhausted - he forgot to buy pills, laying on the bed with the dripping hole.

for thesecond heat, he bought the dildo to please himself, yet didn't use the toy due to the reason he wasn't certain if he should. but the pill to loosen the heat has softened the hazy mind and the smell has gone down a bit.

but for today's abrupt appearance his smell he wasn't ready: he was training with yuuji, using some techniques and learning new ones with help of the teacher, the overwhelming heat caught him off guard when he could smell the unknowing fragrance - cognac. some alpha made him feel a false heat.

'i-i'm sorry, sensei, c-can i leave?'

the matured man holds back his scent and voice, pointing to the door as a sign he may leave the room. silly coincidence. as fast as he can, megumi had run to his room, locked the door for the sake of authenticity. he was run out of pills but leaving the room is too dangerous for him, if he had at least a mark from his alpha it wouldn't less dangerous.

the heat practically had come out of sudden - that weird and unusual scent, he had never smell anything stronger than that fragrance: as embarrassing as it may be, it's overwhelming, filling megumi's clarity of mind with the thought that he might be filled with the owner of the scent.

the thought to grab the toy had come suddenly, when the heat is starting to raise the temperature of the body, feeling as his hole starts to drip, becoming a mess. the period was supposed to start in a week, not earlier.

whom belonged that scent? a new student?

the toy has practically the same color as his hair, the medium length - at least he thinks it's the medium. the glans of his cock have a pink-peached color, as omegas should, their dick is much smaller than alpha's, on this basis, it perfectly fits in his palm as he masturbated a couple of times in the heat.

megumi doesn't like to jerk his cock a lot: better say, he isn't interested in doing it. he released himself when the heat is potent on the mind, hazy him to the point when he unconsciously jerks his oozing dick, cumming pretty much immediately.

few seconds of stroking the base as the liquid ends up on the sheet - it's enough for him for a couple of hours before it happens again. unwittingly, he put one finger in the oozing hole, almost jumped on the bed as he felt the light pain in the ass.

now, the tip of the toy in the hole as megumi gives himself a minute to adjust, he hisses as continuing the dildo goes deeper into the hole, stretching hardly pristine walls, not counting a finger. the omega squints, through the sore happy he's stretching himself prior to feel the real dick. he put all dick to the balls, hardly standing on his knees.

megumi attempts to focus on the thought is someone's else dick, imagining the random alpha, the random face as he fucks himself. he pulled out the dildo to the head, inching slowly to the base, getting used to the size.

‘gumi was on the knees on the bed, his chest being practically buried on the sheet as his ass on the air, suppressing intermittent moans with a pillow, as he squeezes the dildo when he feels as heat is getting intense.

the hairline is coated with drops of sweet as he pulled out the toy, he grips his jaw as being empty without a source of at least some pleasure. it's wrong, it's embarassed but the worst - 'gumi can't handle the feeling of fullness.

as he reaches for the toy, he feels someone’s hands on his hips. he turned his head, seeing sukuna behind him.

'sukuna?!' he screamed the name, tries to cover his naked body with his hands. 'get out immediately!'

the curse laughs, stopping the sorcerer from squirming by holding his hips, keeping the oozing ass in the air. the omega is trying to cover the hole, trying to coping with the smell of his heat, trying not to be the obedient for him.

'you smell so good in your heat, 'gumi-gumi, come on, i know you want my dick in your ass.'

'you ain't an alpha, suk-'

before he could finish the thought, he smelled that fragrance again - the cognac. the stupefying, intoxicating aroma of the mind. the virgin mind is hazed, dazzed by the hell alpha - not him. anyone but not him.

'for years i've learned how to harbor a scent, boy.'

sukuna spreaded the butt cheeks apart a little bit to ogle as how the omega's period made his hole to be moist. megumi tighten the sheet into the whitened fists, endeavoring to think about something else, something about the sorcerer things: killing the curse, no. not now when the king of curses, being the bloody alpha, staring at his untouched body.

's-sukuna..'

megumi's voice is broken, has lost the breath, puffing when sukuna is circling around the hole with one finger. sukuna has spreaded the aroma one more time, staring at the red omega's face as he's trying to struggle with his wishes. megumi is clenching his fists, striving to dodge his claws, crawling, barely crawling forward towards cushions. a pitiful travesty, as sad it is.

sukuna did a tsk, returning the boy in the previous position, yet spanked his butt as a warning sign. 'gumi shrunked at the slight pain but feel as the king instantly rubbing the place he has hitted.

the omega turns head to see sukuna, meeting his gaze immediately looking over his body: the tattoed body is seemed to become bigger since the last encounter. although, it's because of self-inflicted, as sukuna uses his friend's body. but it seems like he's bigger.

'megumi, suck my cock properly, first, and maybe i’ll lick your dripping hole.'

'no way, i wo-'

the king didn't let megumi to end the sentences, flipping omega's body on his back, bringing his body closer as he faces with sukuna's dick. megumi is overly horny to say no, and, how could he deny if a thick, dripping cock is in front of his face?

'when i'm reborn into my initial physique,' sukuna caresses megumi's cheeks. 'i'll surprise you, 'gumi.'

megumi watches as the precum rests on the glans, gasping at the excitement has came over him. with a hesitant movements, he wrapped one palm around the base, feeling the hot, thick cock, wondering if it will fit in his mouth.

as the alpha's dick was a few millimeters from megumi's lips, the last one raised his head, staring into the frantic and anticipatory gaze. omega open the mouth a bit as the head has touched his lips, not entering the glans inside yet lick the precum, tasting the liquid.

he kisses the top, checking the durability of the king, put the dick in the wet mouth, circling the outlining of the head with a tongue. sukuna chuckles watching as megumi making clumsy motions with his hand on the cock, moving his head forward to meet his pubis with a nose.

'god, boy, you suck the toy? so inept, but trying to oblige.'

the omega furrows as if not the member, he would contradict sukuna, responding he isn't trying to oblige him, yet gathering experience.

'you're disgusting, sukuna.'

'but i don't see you pushing me away.'

megumi didn't see fit to reply to the caustic expression, taking the cock in the mouth, sucking it property, maybe, the king will do the promise. it's humiliating - the one who needs to be exorced is not fucking his mouth, makes fists of his shaggy hair, thrusting the head deeper on the sizeable cock.

the omega doesn't pushing him away for the one reason - he's in heat, after all. he's horny and pliable of that. just one night - one. damn. it. night.

'relax your throat, baby boy.'

the name he named megumi, he pronounced somehow mildly, as he tries to do so. the tip with every thrust is touching megumi's throat, forcing fushiguro's eyes fill with tears as the head grazes the uvula.

'such a good cock sucker you are, gumi.' sukuna stares as the tears falling directly onto reddened cheeks, noticing his hard cock that hasn't been touched yet. 'stroke your dick.'

the commanding sukuna's tone didn't let a chance to megumi to say no: he reached one palm to his pink cock, making a fast strokes, anticipating to cum soon.

'wanna cum? my baby wanna cum yet? no, gumi, you can't.' megumi put his hands on sukuna's, forcing him to release his fists and movements.

'sukuna,' said omega when he put the dick out of his drooling mouth: his saliva runs down his chin, although he does nothing to remove it. 'i want something more, sukuna.'

he pressed a thank-you kiss on the top, as a token of appreciation.

'want is it? pick right words.'

he turned his body for sukuna, so the tattoed one will see how messy he has become.

'lick my hole, king. please, i need it.'

later, he will hate himself for his pathetic, miserable act, but right now he needs his tongue. just as pathetic. he hates being so pliable and soft underneath sukuna's pads, again, does nothing to stop him. hates to purr like a cat as the king caresses his butt, touching with one finger his hole.

sukuna kisses the area around the mess as his ears hearing a docile purr as he kisses the hole. he licks the excretion track, running the tongue over the hole which cause the owner of the body gasps, gulping greedily at the air.

sukuna is amazed megumi called him a king, not a dickhead, to which he affectionately licks his trickling hole. the kind rubbing gumi's hips, attempting not to hurt the boy's delicate skin with claws. he tries his best of spreading the love which is foreign to him.

sukuna pulled away from the hole, kissed it one more, before press a finger on the oozing clutter. megumi's shivered, as felt curse's long finger inside him, feeling as sukuna moving slow but deep, letting him to adjust at the new feeling.

the curse smoothly expands the walls and all megumi can think about it's how he's obedient allows the satan in a new guise fucks his ass, allows sukuna to touch him.

'i'm gonna add one finger.'

gumi practically closed his legs by the astounding pleasure sukuna puts him: it's so comfortable, warm, and good. he squeeezed fingers, shutting his eyes, adjusting to accept his future cock.

as megumi once started to rock his body against sukuna's fingers, he pulled them out, spat on his palm to stroke the dick repeatedly.

'lie on your back, megumi.' fushiguro did as he was told, feeling the sheet underneath his back, watching solely into sukuna's eyes: malice and aggresive sigh flew away as sort of careful eyes are watching at his directly. 'you can kiss me, little boy.'

if he can, he'd jump off the bed at the name sukuna has given him, cups the curse's face in his small palms, pulling him towards in a love, tender, romantic kiss as if they were lovebirds.

megumi purred when his lover take an initiative by pulling a tongue into his mouth, playing with the tongue of the boy, feeling the residue of his cock on the omega's muscle. he warned him he'll go inside by throwing on his broad shoulder his legs, distracting himself from the kiss.

megumi purred when his lover take an initiative by pulling a tongue into his mouth, playing with the tongue of the boy, feeling the residue of his cock on the omega's muscle. he warned him he'll go inside by throwing on his broad shoulder his legs, distracting himself from the kiss.

the king has entered the tip as megumi clenched the glans, yet released, becoming accustomed to being full. megumi tugged on the alpha's biceps, drawing on the inked skin fuzzy patterns.

'good boy, megumi. you're taking my cock so well, that i'm starting to think to make an exclusion and do a knot inside you.'

the omega clinched the dick, gasps as he heard the last words.

'not now, at least. when i'll take over this little world.'

the walls of the anus pleasantly embrace the foreign body, squeezing and caressing, making the king even more arrogant - he accelerates his pace, driving his cock inside. megumi shuddered as the tip of his cock reached his prostate.

'did i hit that spot, little boy?'

no strength to nod, only to clench his forearms, moaning precipitously. sukuna stares at the little boy more than he should: his forehead is covered with sweat, his cheeks are red hot and sukuna can't deny but kisses his lips, hitting with every thrust a lump of nerves whilst fushiguro gives himself to his partner, being on the verge of - the sweet moment is about to come.

'you're swallowing me, kitten.'

'sukuna, please, i'm gonna.. soon.. mm~'

megumi arches the back and as he almost grabbed his cock to pour out his sperm, sukuna's hand intercepted the small, towards to his hand, cock making quick movements.

sukuna also felt as the little boy cum by milking his balls, narrowing the walls to an outrage that the alpha has to come out with a growl, biting his neck to the blood, leaving a mark, but not mixing fragrances.

both with their breath hitched, trying to recover, losing themselves in each other's arms. as for megumi, he was overwhemled with an orgasm for a couple of hours whilst sukuna could fuck and fuck even the knot until he'll make a heir.

'you should leave, sukuna. what if itadori will.. you know.. he's alpha too.'

'he won't dare to touch my omega. no one in the world will never hurt you.'

'don't say if you don't mean it.'

he smack his lips against omega's, wiping megumi's drops of sweet, kissed the forehead pulling away.

'after all, i'm - the one who started your heat.'

* * *

after a week of such nocturnal encounters, megumi returned to class again. itadori remembered nothing, [thanks to sukuna, the scratches and hickeys were disappearing].

after classes on the second day of studying, satoru asked him to stay after the training.

'megumi-kun, are you okay? don't think anything of it, i'm asking about..'

'i'm well, if.. yes, i'm fine, sensei, thank you.' megumi interrupted his teacher, answering before he could finish. 'i think i'm gonna rest in my room, sensei.'

'he won't dare to touch my omega, right? did he fuck you good, gumi-gumi? that's your name?'

megumi uttered a low mooing, wanted to answer but couldn't: his eyes widened in a fear, inhaling the scent of a teacher.

'he didn't tell you about me? not that i was spying on you, just.. your smell..'

gojo walks closer to his student, approaching his face towards fushiguro.

'he was good, right? i'm just curious, who will fuck you better in your next heat?'

(─‿‿─)♡

it's is a little smaller than i expected, but the sequel will obviously be bigger. if you'll like it.

↳ main game menu.

[niksfics]

↬ WHAT COULD NEVER BE PT. 2

↬ PAIRINGS: Atsumu x f!reader (ft Bokuto)

↬ WARNINGS: sad shit, horrible writing (I feel like I botched this) kagehina mention, cheating, alcohol mention, reversed unrequited love. !! UNEDITED!!

↬ SUMMARY: honorable mention goes to @multi-fandom-fanfic for giving me this idea in the comment section of the first part it’s not exactly years later but it’s still some time later

↬ A/N: I totally did not cry while writing this pft

↬ WC: | 1.5K |

↬ TAG(S): @erinoikawa @fromdelos

“What does she have that I don’t” the amount of times that, that sentence had played over in my head was starting to exhaust me. Remembering the desperation in my voice caused my nose to scrunch up in a cringe until I shook the thoughts out of my head. Walking away from bokuto that night had been the second hardest thing I’d ever had to do in my life so far.

Weeks and weeks later I’d still had the ache in my chest the tears still welled up in my eyes whenever I thought about him with her, but these tears never fell. I hadn’t fully cried over him in weeks and I patted myself on the back for that. I could feel myself starting to move on. To forget.

I still cheered for the MSBY Black Jackals, but I had started online college to get my fashion degree. I’d always had a dream to work for a big corporation like vogue. Things in my life were finally starting to look up, and Miya Atsumu had taken the place that bokuto had left open that night.

He was my support system. Coddling me when he could in the weeks following bokutos wedding. I was unaware of his feelings. Oblivious at first. Until I started to notice the lingering touches he left, and although I was worried about hurting him, it excited me.

— — —

Two years had passed since the night I realized I would never feel my best friends embrace they way I craved. Two years, and now I craved a different persons embrace. The person I’d been dating for a year now, and in the second year of the two years I’d spent healing I’d slowly started mending my friendship with Bokuto. Of course I’d spoken to atsumu about it, and he’d shared his concerns but I was serious about the blonde man who’d unexpectedly stolen my heart.

I had been so caught up in Miya Atsumu it was like highschool all over again. He made me feel alive, and I grounded him when he felt like he was drifting away. The separation from his twin took a harder toll on him than he ever would have realized. So being the loving girlfriend I was I’d organized a night out with the Jackals; Kotaro and koyuki, Kiyoomi, Hinata and kageyama me and Atsumu, and Osamu and his girlfriend. It would be the first time we would all be together since the wedding.

I was nervous and this night would be the start of something out of anyone’s control. It started off normal Osamu and Atsumu hugging and exchanging pleasantries before they would start bickering and trying to compete over something stupid during dinner.

Shy kageyama who had been so stiff at the wedding seemed to be in his element with his arm draped over hinata’s shoulders while he whispered in his ear. The ginger smiling lovingly at his fiancé and it got me thinking about marrying Atsumu. It sparked a tsunami of feeling throughout my body and I found myself smiling to myself before, Cadence —osamu’s stunning girlfriend from the states— bumped my shoulder with hers and smirked at me.

“I’m glad you came up with this idea. Samu was starting to get all pissy about not being able to see his brother.” I smiled sheepishly and blushed as I shook my hand, “it was nothing tsumu was getting the same way and I really wanted to meet you so it was a win win.” She smiled and I caught bokuto looking at me from across the table. The chair next to him empty.

I smiled and leaned across the table, “hey bo! Where’s the missus?” His smile faltered slightly and if I wasn’t so good at reading bokuto I would have missed it entirely but I didn’t, “oh she had to stay late in the office tonight so she couldn’t come.” I gave him a sympathetic smile and he shrugged before the waiter came to our table and I turned to Atsumu.

Later on in the night I had gotten pretty tipsy the champagne finally hitting me, and I smiled lazily at Atsumu, adoration in my eyes and he smirked, “s’the alcohol finally getting to ya pretty girl?” He asked and I nodded before putting my forhead on his upper arm and sighing.

He moves to stand up taking a glass and a knife with him, and my eyes widen in horror over what he’s about to do. He clinks the knife on the glass a bit to carelessly and it breaks, “ah!! tsumu ya moron what the hell are ya doin?” Osamu asks standing up abruptly to avoid the liquid as a waiter rushes over to clean up the mess.

Atsumu smiles and turns to the waiter and apologizes before looking over the table at our friends, “well I just wanted ta toast ta my amazing girlfriend who I would not have if it weren’t for that idiot right there,” I facepalm as he points at bokuto and bokuto winces slightly before looking at me pained and I mouth a sorry to him.

“So thank ya buddy cause if ya weren’t oblivious I would never have gotten such an amazing partner who loves me so much that she brought my annoying little brother out here to see me.” I hear Osamu groan and roll his eyes.

“you’re only three minutes older than me ya troll.” Atsumu smiles patronizingly at osamu, “shut yer trap samu yer elder is talkin'.” Everyone laughs at that and he finally sits down before I hit his shoulder and smile at him slightly, “you’re an idiot tsum-tsum” he shrugs, “but I’m yer idiot right y/n?” And then he plants a big sloppy kiss on my cheek and I squeal in disgust.

The amount of happiness and joy coursing through my body had been missed. I was finally over the one person I thought I would need to live, and with the person I was destined for. I finally had what bokuto had. I couldn’t be happier.

After that night things between me and bokuto were tense for awhile. I brushed it off as he thought maybe I was still hung up on him. Oh how I couldn’t have been more wrong. I had no idea the anger and jealousy that was bubbling up under bokutos skin, and the most frustrating part of all of the bullshit that was going on, was he didn’t understand why he felt like this. He was happily married. I mean as happily married as one person could be right?

It only got worse though when two weeks later Miya fucking Atsumu was calling him asking for his help to propose to his best friend. He was annoyed and irritated and his wife was coming home at two in the morning smelling different than when she had left. It was not a happy time for him, but he obliged telling him about how the beach would be the most perfect place, and to make sure that he does it at night.

He also added in that he should create a pathway lit by fairy lights because I would simply die over it, and how I didn’t like diamonds so make sure it wasn’t a cliche ass diamond.

And that’s how I found myself on the beach my heart had completely broke on, a week later in front of the man I love as he kneeled with a gorgeous jeweled ring in a black velvet box in his hands.

“Will you y/n y/l/n make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” The tears collecting in my eyes were the happiest tears I’d ever cried in my life as I knelt down and hugged him around his neck, “yes yes!! Yes! Of course I will tsumu”

We hadn’t seen bokuto in the distance watching us with tears in his eyes as he realized what he’d lost. As he wished he could go back in time and do it all over. Do things differently.

Maybe he would have let you keep his jacket on in that storage supply closet. Maybe he should have asked you to get boba instead of koyuki, maybe he should have realized sooner he was projecting onto koyuki because he was scared to love his best friend the way he knew you loved him.

So as he stared at the RSVP card in his hands with yours and Atsumu’s names on it in fancy handwriting. He wonders if this is how you felt when you had gotten his card with koyuki, he wonders if you had felt as lost and hopeless, and torn between wanting you to be happy and also wanting you to be with him instead. So as he swallowed the same lump you had swallowed two almost three years ago he realized that this was some kind of sick karma.

He felt partially responsible for the mess that this had become. You and him were never meant to be.

[geminil0vr]

food for thought | draco malfoy

summary; after spending the night of the yule ball with renowned slytherin, draco malfoy, you catch his eye at breakfast. the boy seems to be hell-bent on seeing into your thoughts, and so you let him — but now you think he might've seen too much.

tagged; @partr1dge <3

word count; 1k give or take a few words maybe like exactly 23 idk i don't have specifics

content; use of legilimency and occlumency, sexual themes, choking if you use a magnifying glass, i really came for draco's childhood trauma + mental issues... my apologies, mentions of love (gross but also will they, won't they?).

a/n; this is a rewrite of "last night", something shitty i made ages ago !! anyway absolutely brilliant title god my mind is so powerful ugh </3 food ??? breakfast. for ??? thought??? occlumency, legilimency !!! i'm so sorry, i rewrote pretty much every word (including this authors note, is it that obvious?) at 5:30 am, it's not amazing, but i'm sleep deprived and on my period so safe to say i did tear up for absolutely no reason.

you and draco both said that you'd never speak of what ensued in his dormitory the night of the yule ball. and you obliged. and you both swore it would never happen again. and you nodded your head. it was a mutual, meaningful agreement, and post-orgasm, it had seemed like a brilliant idea. no consequences, no ties between you two, being from different houses.

but it was extremely difficult to stick to your word when your legs still ached from the night before.

and his breathy groans, hot air fanning over your ear as he railed into you senselessly, wouldn’t push out of your mind.

and the bruises trailing down from your neck to your waistline were constant reminders of his tongue tracing over them, blowing on them, teasing you to all hell.

every time you blinked, the images flashed beneath your eyelids.

every time you inhaled, you missed his hand squeezing over your throat, restricting air.

and merlin, any slight brush against your own skin made you jump, thinking of his body on yours, skin on skin, sweat, clammy hands, your arched back, the veins in his hands, his jaw, his collarbones.

in the great hall, you made your way to your table for breakfast alone, and gnawed at your bottom lip while playing around with the food on your plate, famished, yet still so full of racing thoughts and fresh memories. his hands on your thighs, the way he sighed your name, your nails digging into his back, leaving little crescent moons over it, and his shoulders, and his hips, too. again and again and again.

looking up from your plate to scan the empty room, your eyes met draco’s ones, his irises a stormy grey, pupils dilated, and you inhaled sharply, looking away. you'd gotten up early, as if it would stop suspicion rising if you seemed like you hadn't had a long night. it seemed as if he'd done that too, sat alone just the same.

merlin, you could feel the burn of his gaze, it made your body freeze and your cheeks heat up. he was looking right at you, right into you. you could feel it, the thumping at your temple that wouldn't cease, the throbbing behind your eyelids. he was attempting to penetrate into your thoughts.

as if he hadn't penetrated enough of you within the twenty-four hours, for fucks sake.

in need of a distraction, you turned your attention to the fork still lazily dancing across your plate, the cold handle twirling beneath your fingertips. it didn't feel fair, what he'd done to you. turning you into a mess, mind hazy. giving you a taste, then taking it away immediately, albeit that being exactly what you'd agreed on. and although he really had given you absolutely everything the night before (or rather, this morning), it still felt like a neverending tease, with all that need careening through your veins.

swallowing harshly, you straightened up in your seat, pulling at the hem of your skirt, playing with a loose, dark thread. christ, he was still trying. the headache never seemed to stop, so persistent, so demanding, a feeling you knew well through conversations with dumbledore. but this headache clouded your mind, unforgiving, begging to be let through. it wasn't asking for permission.

looking up once again, keeping your body still and your breath steady, you stared right back. taught ruthlessly by your grandmother, you'd always kept your mind shut from peering intruders. yet he was so fearlessly determined that you could feel it through his magic, snaking its way right through you, searching for any slight weaknesses in your armour. a strand of white hair fell over his forehead as he tilted his head slightly, jaw clenching. he wasn't giving up.

draco malfoy always had something to prove. he was always so sure of his own success, so much to the point of insecurity, of doubt. it was a troubling mix of brashness, arrogance, and cowardice sprouting from the child rooted deep inside him, desperate for assurance and acceptance.

but it wasn't your pity that led you to allow him to break through.

it was your need for him to know something you weren't so sure you could admit verbally. you were thinking of him. that was all.

so, you stared straight into the silver of his eyes and let him right in.

his hands digging into your hips. the sheen of sweat over his entire body, glistening. the faint bruises he left on your wrists. you begging him to go harder.

him obliging.

his eyes were clouded over, as if in a trance, flitting through your memories.

but using legilimency was as much a curse as it was a blessing. because he could feel everything you felt too. the lust, the want, the pain filtering through the pleasure. and he could feel every little thing you'd noticed about him; the mole above his left knee, and the other on his waist, and the few freckles beneath his eyes, and the scar he had just above his eyebrow that you'd never really noticed until you'd tipsily placed wet kisses over his hairline.

for what felt like hours, you let him in, until he decided he'd had enough.

he was blinking quickly, brows furrowed, pale cheeks now flushed pink. he clumsily stood up from the slytherin table, pushing aside his plate of food, and stormed, flustered, out of the room, much like the boy who'd kissed you the night before. all tongue and teeth, all desperation, all emotion. but it was just for the one night. that was all.

and you felt foolish.

because you realised, he'd felt everything.

that in those moments, you thought you might've even loved him.

the boy, all tongue, and teeth, and hands, all pale skin, all desperation. it was certainly something entirely worthy of love.

[adxmparriish]

everything he needs - read on ao3 track 3 of DEDICATED - a jurdannet roulette collab fic with @hazelsheartsworn @figonas @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @laequiem

SIDE A: TRACK ONE -> TRACK TWO -> TRACK FOUR -> TRACK FIVE SIDE B: TRACK ONE -> TRACK TWO -> TRACK THREE MASTERLIST

writer: lizziebxnnet words: 3.2k rating: explicit -> dom/sub undertones, light bondage, orgasm denial, overstimulation, cock ring

Instead of Faerie bowing to us both, I bow to her. I’m all too willing to oblige. All the anxiety I felt earlier, the rapid beating of my heart I so hated, is replaced by something else. Want, need, pleasure, pain… I am nothing but Jude’s. There is no more room in me for anything else. “Let’s play,” she says. Yes, my evil seductress, let’s play. I am your pawn.

tags and fic under the cut

I am edgy.

Anxiety rolls around inside me, a living monster with claws and fangs crawling beneath my skin.

It’s no secret that most days being High King brings me little joy. I’d much rather laze about, drink wine, kiss Jude until I’m senseless, or simply be. The duties, while not always unbearable, drive me over the edge more often than I’d like to admit.

As the moon rises and filters silver light into our chambers, I glance over to our bed. Jude, beautiful as ever, is draped over the sheets looking at me. There’s a glint in her deep brown eyes that scares and arouses me. Her grin is mischief reincarnated, and I stare back at her with intent. Adjusting the crown on my temples, I turn to face her completely.

“I think I’d rather be on the other end of your knife than deal with any of this,” I say.

“I’m inclined to agree,” she replies, flopping over to lay on her back. She still wears her silk nightgown, some flimsy black thing she purchased at the sex shop. The straps are barely there, and a low neckline leaves little to the imagination. It hardly covers the mocha skin of her thighs, although I can hardly complain. “How would you feel about… a little game?”

I raise a brow. “Should I be worried?”

“Of course not,” she says with a wink, rising from the bed and moving to the dresser. It does nothing to calm my anxieties.

She opens the first drawer, rifles through it, and then pulls out one of our new toys. In her other hand, she holds a remote. The skin of my face grows warm. She pads over and shows me what she has.

It’s a cock ring, but there’s a small attachment on the side of it. She flips a switch on it, then presses a button on the small black remote. Immediately, buzzing reaches my ears and the ring begins to vibrate. I reach out to touch it, feeling the vibrations under my fingertips. Jude looks up and when we meet gazes, I can feel her excitement thrumming through her.

The ravenous beast under my skin loosens its grip, and I find want growing in its place. Wanting her, wanting this, wanting to try something new. To be under Jude’s control would be the most wonderful of changes — a much-needed release from duties and being High King. I want to just be hers, to be Jude’s husband, her plaything. I smile at her, my beautifully wicked wife, and surrender to her.

Not bothering to wait for a second longer, she pops the buttons of my pants and yanks them down. I’m half hard already, the mere thought of what this day will bring exciting me. She sits our new toy on the floor beside her as she kneels in front of me. She scoots closer, then looks up to meet my eyes. I stare at her, transfixed by her beauty. Chestnut hair, long and lush, falls down past her shoulders. Her legs, so strong and powerful and covered in soft, tan skin, fold underneath her. Her hands, callused and sneaky, reach out and grip my cock. My breath hitches in my throat.

She strokes me lightly, teasing. I close my eyes and my head falls back, exposing my neck. When I feel the warm heat of her mouth on me, I gasp her name. Her plush lips swallow me down, her tongue tracing the line of a vein that runs down the shaft. I reach out to touch her, to twist her hair between my fingers, but she swats my hand away. She’s such a treacherous, wicked thing.

I feel a fire begin to burn in my belly, my release within reach, but as if she can read my mind, she stops. She pulls off with a pop, and I open my eyes to look down at her. She has the toy in one hand, my cock in the other. She strokes me a few times, then slides it over me, securing it at the base. The pressure is slight but still intense. She licks the tip, collecting a bit of come that has collected there. Damn the meetings, I think. Nothing is more important than this.

She presses a button on the remote, and I see white. The vibrations rattle through me, making me groan. Pleasure ripples in my blood, and then as soon as it begins, it stops. I don’t know if I’m relieved or aggravated. I glare at Jude, but she seems emotionless. I know better, though. I know she’s relishing in the game of her own creation.

She’s switched masks. She’s the same Jude, the same woman I love so dearly, but she is a different version. She’s always High Queen, but now she’s mine, and I am hers. Instead of Faerie bowing to us both, I bow to her. I’m all too willing to oblige. All the anxiety I felt earlier, the rapid beating of my heart I so hated, is replaced by something else. Want, need, pleasure, pain… I am nothing but Jude’s. There is no more room in me for anything else.

“Let’s play,” she says.

Yes, my evil seductress, let’s play. I am your pawn.

* * *

Sweat collects on my brow, and when the vibrations finally stop, I fear I might come purely from relief alone.

I look to Jude sitting beside me and notice the smallest of smiles playing at her lips. The Living Council is either clueless or pretending to be, and I’m not sure which is more ridiculous. I can feel the redness on my skin, and hear the panting breaths leaving my mouth. For more than an hour, I’ve sat in front of all of them and been brought to the brink of ecstasy more times than I can remember, only to be denied over and over again. I feel deranged, manic, unhinged. I want to come so badly that it is all I can think of. My hand longs to grab myself and rip off the wretched ring, but I don’t. I sit. I obey.

I know that, late into the night when Jude and I are in our chambers, I will be rewarded. It’s the only thing that keeps me grounded.

“I don’t think it’s wise to trifle with the Court of Teeth,” someone says, and I should know the voice but I don’t.

“High King? What do you suggest?” someone else questions me, and I turn my head to the sound.

As fleeting as a strike of lightning, the vibrations start again. I grip the table, knuckles going white, as sensations rock through me. My eyes are open but unseeing. I can hear nothing but blood rushing in my ears, the pounding of my pulse. I shiver as everything aches, my cock almost sore from being denied for so long. I think someone says my name, but I can’t respond. My normally sharp tongue denies me.

“Are you alright, darling?” Jude asks from next to me, her hand laying on my forearm, and I almost come undone. The mere touch of her fingers against my skin causes a cascade of feelings, all of which crash into me roughly.

The buzzing stops and I deflate, my breathing ragged and slow.

“I fear I am not, my Queen.” I look up and the entire table stares with looks of concern on their faces. My already warm face flushes darker, embarrassment flooding to the surface.

“Excuse us,” Jude says, gripping my arm and pulling me upright. “Cardan needs to lie down and rest.”

I can hear people bidding us farewell but I don’t look at them, don’t even acknowledge that they spoke. I am led forward by Jude’s firm grip and sure steps. All I know is her and my own desire that swims through my veins. We walk for what feels like hours but I’m sure is only minutes, and then we reach our chambers. When we’re inside, Jude makes quick work of my clothes, stripping me carefully. When my pants are off and thrown to the side, I look down.

My cock is bright red, almost angry. Jude’s hand grasps it and I choke on a moan, my hips bucking in her grip. She looks up at me in wonder.

“So good,” she says, stroking me twice before letting go. “My beautiful, obeying husband.”

I ache at her praise. She leads me to the bed and I fall on my back. Jude begins stripping her own clothes, but when she pulls off the belt holding up her trousers, she tosses it on the bed next to me. She climbs on, pushing my arms up to the headboard. Involuntarily, my hands grab the wooden bars.

Jude straddles me, her body completely naked now, and bends forward. If I tilt my head forward just a bit, I could capture a nipple in between my teeth. I don’t, though. In this game, I don’t touch unless Jude instructs me to do so.

“Remember our colors?” she asks, and I nod. It’d been the first thing we established when we uncovered this new world, this new game. Green for go, red for stop, yellow for let’s slow it down.

She takes the belt and wraps it around my hands, then the bars of the headboard, before fastening it and pulling it taut. I pull and nothing budges. Our eyes meet and the glimmer in hers captures me in a trance. She leans down and kisses me.

Her tongue traces my lip and I open to her immediately, letting her consume me. When she takes my bottom lip between her teeth, pulling gently, I melt into her touch. Her hands are in my hair, fingers tracing the sharp point of my ears. My tail thrashes, then wraps around her leg. The tuft on the end strokes her inner thigh, right below her core, and she gasps into my mouth. I breathe it in, bathe in it.

I cry out as the swell of her ass brushes against my cock, and it twitches, aching for release. Immediately she sits up, pulling away and denying me.

“Jude,” I beg, pulling at the belt that holds my wrists.

“What?”

“Take this damned ring off,” I demand. Her brows raise, and I know at once I’ve made a grave mistake.

Her strong, threatening hand grabs my throat and squeezes, just hard enough to catch my breath. My eyes widen, my arousal grows even more, and my hips undulate. I fight for some kind of release, some relief of the pressure and pain growing, and find nothing. The lack of oxygen makes my head spin, but I force my eyes to stay open.

Jude leans down, her lips brushing against my ear. “You, my dearest Cardan, are not in charge.”

She eases on my throat, releasing me. She traces the line of my jaw with her fingernail, slowly and carefully. I can’t tear my gaze away from her, not that I would want to. In her element, she is ethereal. I shrink under the power she holds in the palm of her hands.

“You want to come?” she asks. It feels like a trick question, but I nod regardless. She shakes her head, disapproving.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, my Queen,” I say.

“That,” she declares, “is too bad.”

Despite her words to me, she turns and reaches down, removing the ring. I groan at the small release. She shimmies back so her sex looms over me, and I lick my lips. She is dripping, heat radiating from it. Any other time, I’d lean forward and taste her, my tongue dipping between the folds. Instead, I wait, my cock practically pulsing as it aches between my legs.

The warmth of her mouth engulfs me and I groan, her name a curse on my tongue. My hands yank at the belt holding them, the leather digging into my skin. I feel crazed, so much pleasure and pain swimming together and making me drown. I can’t focus on anything except her mouth, her tongue, the slick of her core tantalizing as it hovers over my face.

She hums as one hand roams, pinching the skin of my thigh, and tears prick at my eyes. A shock runs through my system and it takes everything I have not to release into her mouth. I am dizzy with desire.

“Baby,” Jude murmurs against my cock, her tongue licking a long stripe, “taste me.”

Like a starving man at a feast, I don’t waste a single second.

I lick at her, tasting every sweet inch of her. It distracts me from the wicked ways of her mouth in the most pleasing way. She moans at my ministrations, her hips bucking when I catch her clit between my teeth lightly. I devour her, unable to satisfy the hunger growing inside me. She is a long drink of water after a hot day, and I am parched.

Every inch of me burns for her, and I feel my orgasm building in my spine again. I moan into her center as it climbs, higher and faster and stronger.

“Jude,” I plead, “I’m going to come.”

Her wet mouth moves away from me, and my eyes sting as I’m denied again, my climax crashing to a halt. Every part of me hurts, longing to release. I feel like a bow, stretched taut and thin. Tears leak from my eyes and through the mist, I can see Jude’s face hovering over me. I blink the wetness away, and her hands brush the tears from my cheeks.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, kissing my face. I almost forget about my throbbing cock through the haze of her words, but it’s still there.

Jude places her hands on my chest and then lowers herself, her sex wrapping around me as she moves down. I whimper at the feel of her, so warm and tight and lovely. Her mouth hangs open at the sensation, and her eyelids flutter closed. Again, I am struck by her beauty. She is radiant as sweat curls the hair by her face, drips down her neck, and pools in the swell of her breasts. I long to reach up, to cup one in my palms, but the damned belt still holds my wrists. She opens her eyes when she’s fully seated.

She wastes no time. She bounces in earnest, taking me under her power even more than I already am. I buck my hips to meet hers. The sound of our skin slaps together, and it makes the sweetest song. She leans forward, changing the angle so I go deeper, and my eyes roll in the back of my head. Pleasure like I’ve never known rolls through me like a wave, and I make an embarrassing noise in the back of my throat. My mind is nothing but Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude. It recants through my brain like an enchantment.

“Jude please — “ I begin, but a moan cuts me off when she rolls her hips.

“Not yet,” she replies to me, already knowing my request. I slam my head back against the bed, jerking my wrists against the belt tying me down. I want to come so badly it blinds me, makes me crazy. I whine and Jude looks at me.

“Color, Cardan.”

“Green,” I say immediately, sure as ever. She denies me but I relish it. I will come with her permission or not at all.

She smiles at me, and I glow under her approval. I am nothing if not her servant.

“Harder,” she commands.

I plant my feet against the mattress and bend my hips, pounding into Jude with reckless abandon. She forgets herself, crying out and gripping my ribs. Her nails dig into my skin. She closes her eyes as I meet her, over and over, the slapping of our skin ringing through our room, although I can hardly hear it over the pounding of my heart.

“Cardan,” she shouts, throwing her head back, “Gods, you feel so good.”

“Fuck,” I chant, slowing down and fucking her slower, deeper, hammering into her so hard that it jolts her.

Finally, a sweet release comes as she fiddles with the belt, untying my hands. I immediately have one hand on her hip, the other at her clit. My thumb circles and flicks it, making her groan loudly. Her hips falter as her own release threatens to overcome her. If I can’t come, I’ll be sure she does.

I can tell she’s close. Her breaths are short, her eyes are closed, and her legs shake. I grip her hips and flip us over. I pull her close, letting her legs dangle over my shoulders, and take her roughly. I pick up the pace, grab her by the back of the neck and kiss her hungrily. It’s clashing tongues and teeth, but it drives me wild regardless. Her warm breaths tickle my lips as she pants, completely overwhelmed. I circle her clit with two fingers, and a throaty sound rips from her throat.

“Come for me Cardan,” she demands, meeting my thrusts with her own.

In an instant, my body responds to her command, and like a wave crashing on the shore, I come. My vision goes black, then I see stars. It’s blissful pain as it rocks through me and leaves me breathless, every inch of me completely spent. Jude, delirious all the same, follows me. Her hands grip my back, nails digging into my skin as she unravels. We moan into each other’s mouths, kissing until we’re dizzy with it. I fuck her through the aftershocks of our orgasms, then collapse against her.

I clutch her, desperate for her closeness. She returns the grip, pulling me into her chest. I nose her neck, leaving wet kisses down her pulse. She hums happily as I cradle her in my arms. She rubs my back gently, and when I roll us so my back hits the mattress, she lays her head on my chest.

When I push her damp hair from her forehead, she grabs my wrist. It’s red, lines from the belt creasing the skin. She kisses it, then grabs my other wrist and does the same. My heart, so often cold and hard, is warm. I touch her face, my thumb brushing the soft skin of her cheek. She smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Your games are evil,” I say to her, making her smile wider. “Although I should have known. You’ve never been an innocent one.”

She laughs. “Neither have you.”

“I cannot argue with that.”

My fingers play in her hair, brush against her skin, and trace the round curve of her ear. Moonlight filters through our curtains and casts shadows across her face. We are both exhausted but I kiss her anyway, slow and sweet. She melts into it, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I love her, devastatingly so. Not telling her seems criminal.

“I love you, darling Jude.”

Her lips meet my jaw, and she kisses me there.

“I love you too,” she says.

As always, I wonder how I got so lucky to win her affections. When her fingers graze my neck, touching my pulse point, I realize for the first time, I don’t much care how we got here. What truly matters is that we are in this moment, basking in the love we’ve built. Whether I’m lucky or blessed, or somewhere in the middle — all of it fades to black in the warmth of Jude’s embrace.

.

.

.

.

.

@slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @figonas @laequiem @hazelsheartsworn @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels @thefolkofthefic @kingandfireheart

[therenlover]

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter 3 Part 2 + Epilogue (A Helmut Zemo x Reader Fanfiction)

(Thank you to everyone who has joined me on this unexpected journey. If you’d like to start from the beginning, you can find Chapter One HERE)

Synopsis: At the end of the day, Helmut and his wife fall back together as they always do, and rediscover their intimacy in the wake of their past arguments with no more games left to play. 

Tags: Smut, Fingering, Kisses, Neck Kisses, Married Sex, Soft Sex, The Morning After, Fluff, Banter, Excessive References To Old Literature, Wuthering Heights

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Explicit Smut, Swearing, Mentions of Alcoholism/Alcohol Withdrawals

Word Count: 10,500~

This work has been crossposted to my AO3!

------

The two of you stayed there for a moment, your heart alight with an almost childlike wonder as you relished in the pure bliss of your husband’s hand holding your own. It was as familiar as your own name and yet so new, so different than it had been before. Had he ever held your hand this tenderly? Or looked at you with such adoration? You couldn’t say for certain. Definitely not while you were so distracted by the romance of it all.

Still, all good things must come to an end, and after what could have been an eternity or a moment Helmut pressed one more kiss to your hand before lowering it back to the bed.

“Your trembling has stopped,” he muttered, more to himself than you, “that’s good. Are you still in pain? You could still take one more naproxen if you think it would be helpful,”

You shook your head. “No thank you. I think I’ll be fine for now,” Slowly, you stretched up, your joints cracking loudly as you yawned. Across the room, the clock on the wall ticked silently past 8 o’clock. Could it really be that late?

Helmut seemed amused by your little movements and mental musings. With a sweet smile, he leaned back in his chair. “Tired already?” He teased, but there was no fire in it. You didn’t have anything in you to make a funny quip with, so you opted for simply giving an honest nod. That was enough for him. He dimmed the bedside lamp a bit and picked up his novel once again before he spoke. “You can rest now, Schatz. I’ll be here if you need me,”

Then, nonchalant as can be, he opened up his book and started reading again.

It was a bit… strange, the idea of falling asleep while being watched, even if it was just by your husband. You settled into the sheets, but the thought of it irked you enough that you had to roll onto your side in the hopes that once he was out of sight you’d forget about him being there. It didn’t work. Then, you rolled onto your back thinking if you just closed your eyes, sleep would come eventually. That didn’t work either. You were quickly sat face to face with a conundrum: You couldn’t sleep.

Not in your current situation at least.

As if he could sense your discomfort, Helmut peered to you from above the pages of his book. “Are you reconsidering my offer for pain medication?” He asked.

You groaned. “No, I just can’t sleep. It’s weird being watched,”

Helmut watched over you with kind eyes. He didn’t set down his book as he watched you toss and turn until you finally rolled onto your side to face him, but he did tilt his head slightly as he studied your face. Once he was sure you weren’t in any pain, he gave a curt nod. There was something almost awkward and adolescent about the expression that crossed his face as he spoke.

“Are you… I’m sorry, would you rather I leave?”

The thought of being alone, even if it meant not being watched, made your stomach drop. You had spent so long wanting to fall asleep with Helmut at your side once again. To have him leave now, after everything you’d worked through? It felt like a massive step backward in comparison to all of the progress you’d made. That being said, him sitting at the edge of your bed like some sort of visitor at a hospital bed wasn’t what you wanted either.

No, you wanted him closer.

Needed him closer.

The only problem was that you had absolutely no idea of how to ask for what you wanted. It had always been so simple before. Ever since you had broken him out of the raft you had fallen into bed together exhausted every night with very few exceptions. There was no asking about it, you just did because that was what a married couple would do. That wasn’t even mentioning the nights you’d fall together after the throes of passion onto the nearest soft surface, fully satisfied and boneless and exhausted, but you didn’t want to think about those times. They brought a flush to your face and other places long neglected. You pushed the feeling down. It wouldn’t get you anywhere to be thinking of things like that in your current situation.

Back to the problem at hand, you started to think about if there was a possible, non-awkward way to ask Helmut to lay with you.

After a minute you became acutely aware that there wasn’t.

He was still waiting for an answer though, dark eyes watching you with an intent care and fascination as you struggled to sort through your thoughts, ever patient and careful with you. From your position on your side you had to tilt your head up slightly to see him fully upright in the lamplight but it didn’t matter much. He was still stunning, even sideways. Slowly, you took a deep breath. “I want you to stay, it’s just a little weird to have you watching over me like that,”

The words were soft and delicate in the moonlight. Helmut, thankfully, took them at face value and nothing more. He was still wearing that same strange expression from before, awkward but not painfully so, as his eyes flitted around the dark room. “You… last night and the night before you woke up a lot, inconsolable and vomiting. I didn’t want you to choke or make too much of a mess, so it was easier to sit up and watch you, just in case,”

“Oh,” Your soft lips parted as your heart fluttered, “I’m sorry, I guess? And thank you? I don’t know quite what the right response to that is,”

“There’s no need to apologize, it’s nothing, and I don’t need thanks either. I’m not doing anything any other decent husband wouldn’t do,”

“Well, you’re only halfway decent, so I’d consider this a win,”

Helmut laughed then, something low and throaty that made your chest feel fuzzy and heavy with warmth. “Touché, Schatzi. Now try to sleep? You need your rest,”

You obliged him once again, letting your head hit the pillow. Your eyes remained open, though, as you admired his features in the darkness. He hadn’t shaved properly in a few days and it was obvious from the dark stubble forming on his cheeks and chin, but you didn’t mind it. In fact, you found it incredibly endearing. His turtleneck looked thick and soft as it hugged every plane of his soft chest.  Even his face, furrowed in slight concentration as he found his sentence once again and began to read, looked sweet in the lamplight, framed by unkempt locks of his chestnut hair that had fallen out of their usually precariously kempt style. He looked like an angel there, illuminated from the side while his eyes flitted back and forth down the page.

Part of you yearned to reach out and touch him, because at that moment he seemed far too beautiful and idealized to be real.

After a moment, though, his eyes met yours again. You spoke before he had a chance to offer pain medication a third time.

“What are you reading?”

He regarded you with a practiced gentleness. This was a game all its own that you were both intimately familiar with, and it was much more fun than the ones you usually found yourselves playing. Helmut loved his books, but he never read one without reason. You were curious to see what he found appropriate for the occasion.

“Wuthering Heights,”

A small grin spread across your face as heat rushed to your cheeks. “Really? How morbid,”

“If you think this is morbid, you should have seen me last night,” he chuckled, “I was still neck-deep in Anna Karenina until the early hours of the morning. It did nothing for my nerves,” Somehow, his accent seemed thicker as he rolled the title gently on his tongue. If you closed your eyes, you could see the scene in your mind; Helmut watching you intently in the darkness as you shook, his eyes flitting back nervously to the words on the page before darting back to you again as he read of love and infidelity and death… it was almost too much to bear in the best of ways.

“What will you read next?”

Helmut paused, but his decision came quick. “Pride and Prejudice, I think,”

“How fitting,” you hummed, “I like Pride and Prejudice,”

“As do I, Schatz. As do I,”

The two of you sat with that silently for a moment as you took in a deep breath of cool nighttime air. Outside, you could hear the soft sound of distant passing cars in the darkness, but that did little to soothe the thoughts now racing through your head and making your heart beat faster. Suddenly, and without deliberation, you acted with your heart alone and not your mind.

“Helmut?” you called softly into the darkness.

He lifted his eyes from his book without a hint of annoyance at your repeated interruptions. “Yes?”

Suddenly, your throat felt very tight. “Do you remember the last night we spent in Berlin?”

“Of course I do,” he hummed, but he offered you nothing more to work with. Trembling slightly from the effort, you tried again.

“You read to me that night and it helped with the nightmares. Do you think…” your voice petered off, but came back stronger when you steadied yourself again, grounding yourself in the warmth of Helmut’s eyes, “do you think you could read to me again?”

The smile he offered you was brilliant and kind.

“I would like nothing more,”

With a bit of adjusting, Helmut scooted to the front of his chair so that his knees brushed the edge of the bed. You stared spellbound up at him. If you reached out, just the smallest bit,  you would be able to rest a hand on the warmth of his leg and relish in the feeling of his soft dress pants. Still, it wouldn’t be enough. You needed to be even closer, surrounded by him, entirely engulfed by the warmth and strength and scent of him.

“Do you believe such people are happy in the other world sir?” Helmut began, reading aloud in a voice reserved for you and you alone in these incredibly rare moments, “I’d give great deal to-”

“No,”

Helmut looked up from the novel with a soft ‘hm’ of confusion.

“I-'' you stuttered, “I want you to lay with me while you read, like you did back then,” His eyes lit up and his cheeks flushed as you floundered for some sort of excuse or placation that would explain your sudden boldness. “You don’t have to! I just… I thought it might be nice. If it’s not, that’s more than okay, I didn't mean to upset you. I guess what I’m trying to-”

“Shhh, Schatz. You’re okay,”

At the sound of Helmut’s soft reassurance, your heart slowed down a bit from its jackhammer rhythm against your chest. What? He was… agreeing? Slowly, he stood from his chair and rounded the bed before sitting on the opposite edge. You had to roll over to watch him go, but when he finally sat you reached a hand out to him, which he took into his own without a hint of hesitation.

“It’s not good to work yourself up like this,” he cooed as he toed off his shoes and socks, moving them away with his free hand. “I’m still your husband, just as you are still my wife. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be held,” Your cheeks burned with shame, but somehow you didn’t feel like he was chiding you. He slipped below the sheets then, resting his back on the headboard and beckoning you forward to rest on him. You were scrambling towards his warmth before he had to say another word.

Then, you were finally safe.

There, with your cheek pressed flush against his chest and your arms wrapped tight around his middle, you breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed for the first time in… well, since you could remember really. He chuckled, but you didn’t notice. No, you were far too busy enjoying your newfound warmth. Your limbs were trembling a bit again, but not from your withdrawals. Instead, you seemed to have so much love running through your veins that you just couldn’t manage to keep still. Slowly, you swung your bare leg over Helmut’s clothed one before interlocking them to ensure your closeness.

Helmut smiled down at you and pressed a kiss to your forehead as he smoothed down your hair with one hand and re-opened his book with the other. “Now where were we? Ah, yes. Here we are. Do you believe such people are happy in the other world, sir? I’d give a great deal to know,”

You tuned out his words quickly, instead opting to focus on the timbre and lilt of his tone as he made his way down the page. There was a lightness to it, an honesty that came with reading words that came from another’s mind and not his own. There was no room for bartering when he read, no way to twist the sentiments of the author into his own narrative. Instead, he spoke plainly and often from the heart. You liked to think that was why he spent so much time choosing the books he read. They were, for him, a beacon of clean, clear-cut honesty to cling to even as his brain fought to deceive himself and everyone around him.

As he continued, though, you did notice something strange.

Your husband, especially when focused on a task like reading, wasn’t one to let his mind wander. If he wanted to do something he would simply do it without hesitation. Needless to say, it was also very difficult to distract him once he got fully invested in something. That being said, as he turned the page and continued to speak, his voice seemed to be losing its focused intensity by the second. He also was squirming. Well, no, squirming wasn’t quite the word for it, but he couldn’t seem to get comfortable below you. It was clearly not the weight of your body that bothered him though, nor was it the temperature of the room. Only when you shifted your leg up slightly and heard his breath hitch roughly in his throat did you notice the growing hardness in his pants.

Oh.

Oh.

There was something almost giddy about knowing that you could still affect him the same way you always had, even while half delirious with sleep and suffering through one malady or another, and while a small part of you grew nervous at the thought of reuniting with Helmut like that for the first time since your initial argument all those months ago, on the whole, every nerve in your body was longing to feel him against you again. You smiled softly at the discovery. Some things truly never changed.

As you determined the best way to go about initiating something, you tuned back into his words again. His voice was still sweet and low with his heavenly accent cutting through the old language in a way that made butterflies erupt from your stomach down towards your newly aching core, and yet there was an inconsistency to it.

“She lies with a sweet smile on her face,” he muttered, breath hitching slightly once again as he blinked, long and hard in the darkness, “and her latest ideas wandered back to pleasant early days. Her life closed in a gentle dream - may she wake as kindly in the other world,” As he finished his sentence he looked down from the page to you, prone against the broadness of his chest. His pupils were blown wide with lust in the yellow lamplight and, after a moment struck mute, he licked his lips. “Schatz-,”

“Don’t stop now,” you breathed into the darkness, “we’ve only just gotten to the best part,” Slowly you rose from your place slotted against him. The loss of contact was difficult for you both, but you quickly amended the issue by placing a hand flat against his upper thigh. It was so close to his growing length and yet so far away at the same time.

Helmut regarded the digits with a sure disbelief and mild amusement. “Don’t stop what?”

“Reading,”

Somehow the word sounded obscene as it dripped syrupy and saccharin from your lips. You leaned in closer now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off your husband’s body as his gaze flickered down to your mouth. Despite your words, though, Helmut was quick to mark his page and reach to set the book down on the dresser beside his side of the bed.

“Do you want me?” he gulped, letting himself brush his fingertips ever so lightly against the bottom hem of your sleep shorts. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, after everything,”

You replied with a question of your own:

“Do I look like I don’t want you?”

He was quick to shake his head. It was his turn now to steady himself. “I’ve yearned for you every day since I left,” he whispered, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your lips from the proximity alone, “I never should have gone, Schatzchen. Not then and not before. To be without you is torture. I’ve wasted so much precious time...”

You replied with a simple, breathless, “Kiss me,”

Who would he be to deny you?

With the slightest of smiles, he leaned in and captured your lips with his own.

You had kissed him hundreds, probably thousands of times and yet you never got over the feel of his mouth against your own. Hot and wet and always ever so slightly minty from the small, sweet lozenges he kept in his right breast pocket, it laid claim to you. When you kissed him, there was nothing except him and him and him for eternity. You never considered yourself much of a wordsmith, your talents were elsewhere, and yet you could write sonnets about the bliss that came only when you connected in these brief, close moments of peace.

There were no threats here, not now. There was only Helmut, with his dark eyes and wild hair pulling away from you just long enough to breathe in the darkness of the room before dragging you back in to kiss him again.

Time had no bearing on you then. You could have been sitting there and kissing him for hours, your soft hands gently exploring each other once again but never daring to touch where the other wanted to be touched more than anything. Eventually, though, Helmut pulled away for a meaningful period of time, letting his forehead rest gently against your own as you both breathed heavily, hands finding each other blindly to clasp together in your lap.

When you felt like you were finally grounded to your body again, you chuckled softly, paying careful attention to the way the dim light accentuated the soft blondes and reds hidden in your husband’s brown hair.

“What is it?” he cooed in the darkness, “What could you possibly be laughing at now,”

“I thought I asked you to keep reading, Baron. You stopped at my favorite part. How am I supposed to focus on this when all I’ll be able to focus on is that once we’re done, I’ll finally get to hear what Heathcliff has to say,”

Helmut didn’t respond to your gentle ribbing, not at first. Instead, he leaned back in for one last fleeting kiss before letting his hands rest at the bottom edge of your sweater, bunching up the excess fabric. You assisted him in removing it by pulling your arms from the sleeves as he lifted it over your head. Then, you were finally semi-bare before him.

The cool, dark, nighttime air felt frigid in comparison to the almost burning heat of Helmut’s hands as he ran them down your sides. It made you shiver. That being said, it was nothing in comparison to the full-body tremble he evoked a moment later when he leaned in close to your ear with a sinful smile.

“May she wake in torment,” he quoted softly. The sound of it, so lewd and yet so refined, only added to the wetness between your legs. It didn’t help that his hands had moved on to find purchase on your breasts. He took a nipple between his fingers, rolling it ever just so as he continued. “Why she’s a liar to the end,”

Distantly, you just barely had enough complex thought to marvel at the fact that your husband had memorized your favorite passage from Wuthering Heights. It didn’t surprise you in the least. The last thing that crossed your mind before it clouded fully with lust was that there was something so tender in Helmut’s eyes when he looked at you that you just couldn’t bear it. It wasn’t long after that, though, that Helmut let one of his hands creep under the elastic waist of your shorts to cup your mound and you lost all ability to think about anything other than his soft voice and the feeling of his hands on your skin.

He touched you as if he knew you, and he did. You had known him carnally in more ways than could be counted. Though a bit rough with time, his fingers fell easily into their usual rhythm as muscle memory took over. He relished in dragging you to the edge in a way only he knew how to, and for the first time in months, you let him.

“Where is she? Not there,” he purred against your cheek as his fingers caught just so against your nub. You arched into his touch without a thought. “Not in heaven,” Slowly, his mouth departed from your face. He trailed wet kisses down the sensitive column of your throat, and yet he never broke from his steady rhythm of stroking down your wetness before letting his fingers come back up to circle your clit.

“Not perished,” As Helmut paused, he sucked a deep purple bruise into the soft nook where your neck met your chin, “Where?”

It had been so long. So long since you’d been with him, since you’d touched yourself. You could do little more than cling to him and gasp his name as he played you like a well-tuned fiddle.

He delighted in the feeling of your fingers in his hair, yanking at the nape of his neck and urging him lower and lower as he continued to bring you towards completion. In all honesty, he was smitten with you, and anyone who saw him as he was in that moment, wide-eyed and slack-jawed at just the sight of your pleasure, would know it. Still, his devotion was lost on you, especially in your current position.

That was fine by Helmut.

As long as you were happy, he would be too.

“Oh! You said you cared nothing for my sufferings!”

“Helmut!” You gasped low and sweet and right as he nipped at your collarbone.

The grin that you found when you met his eyes again didn’t do anything to help you put your mind back together, nor did it prepare you for two of his thick fingers to suddenly breach your sopping wet entrance.  He paused then, searching your face for any signs of discomfort or hesitance, but he was only greeted by pure and utter bliss on your end.

Good. That was his goal.

With a soft tug to his hair, he was off to the races again.

“And I pray one prayer,” His mouth was on your breast now. Your hips canted and bucked to meet the quickening thrusts of his digits, which were curled ever so slightly and dragged at that rough right spot inside you with every push and pull. “I repeat it till my tongue stiffens,”

Then, suddenly, his eyes found yours again, and you felt you might perish then and there from the pure ecstasy of it.

“Y/N L/N, may you not rest as long as I am living!”

His fingers dragged across your sweet spot once again.

“Helmut, darling-”

Your voice was a stunted wail against his quiet, sure tone.

“You said I killed you - haunt me, then!”

His mouth was on your peaked nipple, your throat, your collarbone.

“Darling I’m so close-”

“The murdered do haunt their murderers,”

You were climbing, soaring, flying.

Higher, higher, higher…

“I believe,” he faltered for a moment. It was all too raw, all too real. God, how you loved him. “I know that ghosts have wandered on earth,”

You were up on your knees now, and Helmut had followed you up. He held the weight of your body on his clothed chest as he added a third finger. If you thought you had reached the heights of pleasure before, you had broken all the way through the ceiling, up through the sky, and into heaven now. Words dissolved on your tongue as spittle dripped warm from your open mouth down to the messy sheets below.

Suddenly, though, in the heat of it all, there was a tenderness.

The hand that had come to wander your body and assist Helmut’s mouth when it was preoccupied came to cup the back of your head and hold your gaze to him, keep you a captive audience to the way he looked at you; full of lust and love and adoration of the basest most human kind.

“Be with me always,” he urged, and the words were his . There was no more Heathcliff in them than there was Brontë or Austen or Tolstoy. “Take any form,” Tears, big and fat and wet dripped down your cheeks at the sight of it. This was your husband. Husband . Oh, the wonder of such a little word! How had you gotten so lucky? You feared you’d never know. All you truly knew was the sound of his voice as he drove his fingers into you with a mad fervor. “Drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”

Finally, your words seemed to return as you soared to your completion.

“Always!”

It was a wail. A cry in the dark. A promise.

“Oh, God!”

“Oh, God! It is unutterable!”

Just two more lines.

“Helmut, please,”

Something inside of you was breaking by the second as you clung to him.

“I cannot live without my life!”

“Yes, yes, yes-”

“I cannot live without my soul!”  

He crooked his fingers just so.

You snapped at the finality of it all.

Wordlessly you spasmed against him, hands clinging to every single part you could find purchase on. His neck, his arms, his back; you only had half the mind enough to kiss him as he pulled you through, never stopping his steady rhythm of thrusts. He kissed you back just as eagerly and wiped your tears with his free hand while he did. How could he be so perfect and fucked-up and yours?

You didn’t think to ask.

Instead, you rode through your bliss before slumping bonelessly into the arms of your husband, smiling and crying and utterly alive.

What a gift it was to be human, short life notwithstanding.

You had almost forgotten that.  

After a moment, Helmut slowed his ministrations. He pulled his slick fingers from your body and out of your sweat-soaked sleep shorts and all the way up to his mouth, where he deposited them and sucked the remnants of your release off of the pruned digits. You would have considered it extremely sexy if you weren’t still recovering from a leg-shaking orgasm to end all orgasms. Instead, you just laughed weakly as he removed his fingers from between his lips with a wet slurp and wiped the excess spit onto the sheets.

“How the hell did you manage to remember all that?” You finally asked, nudging him softly in the side as he chuckled above you, settling down once again against the headboard.

He shrugged before he replied. “During my incarceration, I had nothing more than the books you sent me and my own mind. After discovering that particularly filthy annotation you included in my copy of Wuthering Heights, I found I was eager to reread the highlighted paragraph quite often. With time and repetition, the words simply remained,”

You held him closer to you in the darkness.

Outside, the crickets were still singing their sweet song to the sleeping world, dancing along the wisterias and honeysuckles down in the yard, planted long ago with love and care to be pressed and sent along in the very books Helmut had previously mentioned.

“It’s a shame you had to leave it behind when James broke you out. I put a lot of effort into my notes,”

“Take a closer look, Schatz,”

His words were an incentive that provided enough energy for you to just barely push yourself up from his chest on shaking limbs. Sure enough, though, and true to his word, the copy of Wuthering Heights sitting on the dresser beside you was the same well-loved copy you had mailed to him in his first months of imprisonment.

“You never miss a single detail, do you?” You asked, incredulous. He answered you with a simple kiss.

“Do you want to get cleaned up? I could run you a bath,”

The question had your mind wandering to the luscious jetted bathtub in your ensuite bathroom, sitting unused as it had for months in the wake of your fight with Helmut. Perhaps the memories of your endless trysts in that very tub would no longer haunt you as they had before. Despite the temptation of it, though, you had other plans.

“Helmut,” your voice was barely a whisper as you brought your hand to cup him through his pants, “you didn’t get to finish yet,”

Despite the way his breath hitched in his throat, he shook his head. “You’re tired, Schatz, and I will be fine to wait for another occasion. This was about you,”

Excuses, excuses.

You tutted softly as your hand wandered towards his belt.

He made no move to stop you.

“I’ve missed you so much,” The admission escaped you in a breathless sigh. You needed him. Needed to see him, to feel him, to connect with him, trembling hands and aching head be damned! Helmut seemed to understand that because as you released him from his belt and unzipped his pants he busied himself with removing his turtleneck. “Every night, I swear I thought of you every night while you were away. I would lay here alone and close my eyes and hope, so foolishly, that when I woke up you’d be right there beside me again,”

Shuffling out of his slacks, he discarded them haphazardly into the darkness of the room along with his boxers. “Lay down, Schatzi. I’ll take you if you’ll have me,” His words were tender in the night. You did as you were told. In the yellow glow of the old filament bulb, you could see his proud cock, thick and leaking, and it made you want. For what you didn’t know, but you wanted. You needed.

You yearned.

The yearning didn’t last for long, though. There were no games to be played that might make your husband taunt you or force you to work for your pleasure. It had been far too long for that. Instead, you lifted your hips and let Helmut pull the soaked sleep shorts from your legs to deposit them with the other clothes. Then, you were both laid bare.

There was no need for words past that point.

Helmut lined himself up with your opening and, gazing down into your soul, pressed each and every inch of himself into you as he groaned like a man possessed. You clung to him, bringing your arms up around his shoulders, and for a moment the two of you stayed put, connected and completed in a way only the two of you ever could be. Languid kisses were shared. You passed them back and forth like secrets from wet and swollen lips. Only after an eternity when you dragged your pelvis up the slightest bit to grind against him did he move once more.

When he pulled himself from your wetness, just about halfway, he did so with the same slow precision he entered with. You wouldn’t have had it any other way.

There was no desperation to it like there had been when he got you off, no fast-paced need driving you together in frantic breathless shouts. Instead, Helmut kept his pace slow and deliberate. It was like he wanted to memorize the feel of every inch of your body, inside and out. So, he took a snail’s pace as he worked you open below him.

The lack of speed didn't mean there was a lack of passion, though.

Oh no, you both possessed passion in spades and it reflected in the breathy moans that filled the chamber of your shared room. Your room. Your bed. Your home. The thought of it brought you closer to the edge by the minute.

In that darkness, lit by your little lamp and the light of the brilliant moon outside, you could pretend things were different and yet the same. Helmut was simply a businessman who traveled often. You were his little wife. The home was cheery and filled with light, and he would come home to you every weekend with a smile on his face and flowers in his hands. There was no danger lurking in every corner, nor was there the threat or separation at every turn. Instead, you could leave your house freely to buy groceries or visit the Sunday market in the city square down the road. Things were happy. You weren’t going to die.

Oh god, you were going to die.

It was a fact you both knew, now, and had accepted. Your fate was sealed the second you chose to stay at his side all those years ago. Still, it was all approaching so very quickly, you barely had any time left to prepare.

Despite it all, though, you had this time.

You had this moment in the darkness where you could wail and moan and cling to your husband without fear. He had you in his arms and under his chest and filled oh so good with his cock and for just a second, just a sweet blissful tick of the clock, you could forget. You both could. So you did.

Your second orgasm didn’t come on in a steep climb like the first.

No, it crept up on you without you even knowing it was coming. Helmut fucked into you good and slow and deep for an eternity before you felt those telltale jolts of pleasure urging you towards your end. He felt it too, felt it in the way you tightened around him and arched your back when he pulled back only to push into your heat once again.  

There were no words. You didn’t ask for permission. Instead, you just let yourself fall into a pit of your own pleasure as you kissed Helmut and clung to his hips with hands that left bruises in their wake. He followed quickly behind. In the wake of it all, his return and your seizure and the fight and your recoupling, you felt a bone-deep ache of heartache and peace. Then, Helmut pressed a kiss to your forehead and collapsed beside you, pulling the sheets over the both of you and wrapping you in his strong arms. The skin on skin contact was divine.

“Your doctor is going to be very cross with us,” he muttered into the crook of your neck.

You let your fingers dance lightly down his back, slick with sweat, as you chuckled. “Let them be cross, then. I needed you. Besides, you started it,”

He nodded against you. Slowly, you both shifted to a more comfortable position. Helmut laid his head on the pillow, propped up against the headboard, while you opted to use his chest as a pillow instead, running a finger through his chest hair and looking up at him with tired eyes. “I will take full responsibility for my actions,” he said softly, “both recent and past,”

“I’m still mad at you, you know,”

“As you should be, Schatz, I’ve been a poor husband and partner as of late,”

“But you’ll stay now, right?” Your voice was more uncertain than it should have been as your husband reached for the dresser once more, retrieving his book.

Helmut met your gaze and nodded ever so slightly in the darkness.

“I will be beside you from now until I draw my final breath. Now sleep, Schatzchen. You’ll still have me when you wake,”

Slowly you let your eyes drift closed. You were pretty tired out… Wrapping an arm around his soft stomach, you murmured softly up to your husband. “I love you, Helmut,”

“And I love you, Y/N,” he replied, and as you drifted to sleep you could still hear his soft voice, ebbing and flowing with the breeze and cricket song in the nighttime.

“He dashed his head against the knotted trunk; and, lifting up his eyes, howled…”

“What is it with you and bathtubs,” You chuckled, sitting on the lid of the toilet as Zemo straightened out his well-gelled hair in the mirror. Beside you, the body of a man sat bloody in the tub as rigor mortis set in.

Helmut shrugged. “I don’t like to leave behind a mess for those unfortunate enough to find the bodies,”

His words were heavy, but that didn’t stop you from humming an upbeat tune idly as you watched him work. In the end, you had been the one to land the killing blow on… well, whoever was now starting to smell as his bodily fluids crept towards the drain. You didn’t care much about him enough to remember his name. No, not while you could be watching Helmut with an intent fascination. He hadn’t trusted you with his plans, not fully, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to try to figure out what they were by watching the minute twitches of his muscles as he gazed at himself through the thin glass.

If there was one thing in the world you were good at besides killing, it was deciphering your traveling companion’s expression. He looked… tired.

“We’re reaching the end of the line, aren’t we?” You asked.

The words made him pause, catching your eyes in the mirror, but he surprisingly answered you straight.

“Yes, my plans are almost complete,” he hummed, turning to face you, “The Soldat will be moved into his cell to be evaluated tomorrow. I shall assume Mr. Broussard’s identity and, if everything goes according to plan, I shall be traveling to Serbia from there to kill the remaining super soldiers and stage the final fight between Iron Man and Captain America,”

You leaned forward from your perch on the toilet lid, letting your legs sprawl out towards the wall. “So that’s it? Just one more day and it’s done?”

He repeated your words; an affirmation.

“Just one more day and it’s done,” his eyes remained glued to you as you laughed lightly, leaning back to let your head rest against the cool wall behind you. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you snorted, “I’m just trying to figure out where you’ll drown me now that the bathtub is already in use. The sink?”

The look that crossed Helmut's face was between amusement and disgust as he let one small huff of laughter escape from between his lips. Slowly, he closed the small gap between you and leaned against the opposite wall. From his new position, you could see all of him more clearly. The rough beginnings of stubble on his chin, the bloodstains on his sweater, the way his hands fidgeted nervously at the edges of his pockets; everything about him was endearing. You had to remind yourself that both of you would be dead in a few days to push down the burgeoning feelings that began to bloom in your chest.

Besides, Helmut was still in love with his wife. If he wasn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting in a cheap hotel bathroom with him and a corpse in the first place. Still, it wasn’t terrible to have fantasies. You were a woman, after all, a woman with needs you were sure Helmut would understand. Distantly you were glad you’d be dead before you had to part ways with him. If it was a choice, you weren’t sure you’d ever choose to leave him.

“About that,” Helmut said, low and sweet. He licked his lips after he spoke. If you didn’t know him better you would have assumed he was nervous. About what, you had no idea. Then it hit you.

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

As Helmut nodded, you took note that it was the first time you had ever seen someone look ashamed for choosing not to commit murder.  He gulped down a breath before he began his attempts to explain. “I try not to kill without reason. The deaths of those innocents at the UN are already weighing on me more heavily than I anticipated. It’s only a precaution, but I fear that if I killed you, the guilt would eat at me enough that it might interfere with my mission,”

“Mhm,” your response, a low hum, came with a slow nod that told him you were far from convinced with his reasoning. “It’s a real shame you dragged me all the way to Berlin just to make me find my own way home. I wish I would have known I was making it out of this alive. Maybe I would have remembered to grab my wallet before we left the house,”

“That is another thing I wish to talk to you about,”

You raised your eyebrows in mild disbelief. “There’s more?”

Helmut nodded. His formerly nervous expression was now replaced with a loose smile. Well, as loose as it could be on the face of a former colonel and current terrorist.

“We’re both aware that I will not be making it out of this little escapade alive. Now, I wanted to thank you somehow for your assistance, and I figured leaving you a monetary endowment of some kind would be a good way to repay you,”

“How much are we talking?” Without even noticing it you leaned forwards towards him. He grinned all the while, wolflike and half-mad. You adored it. Adored him.

“At least one million euros,”

Your jaw dropped.

“I’ve gotten in contact with my butler and have taken the liberty of purchasing you another hotel room across town, far from where the Winter Soldier will be set loose. You can check in any time after noon and stay there for up to a week. If you choose to accept my offer, my butler will meet you on the seventh day of your stay with the money, papers to create a new identity, and free transport to wherever you want to go. After that, should you want it, you will receive monthly payouts to help pay for any bills or extra expenses after you get the lump sum. Now, if you’d like something a bit more… permanent, I could also arrange for an extra few million to be delivered in cash up front for you to purchase a house. You will be free of your past, free of everything that has bound you. You can start over and live like any other person. Does that seem like something you’d be interested in?”

Before you could even speak you had launched yourself into Helmut’s arms. He smelled warm, like cedarwood and mint and fresh-pressed linens as you clung to him like a lifeline. There were no words you could say to express your gratitude, nothing you could do to beg him to change his mind and stay. You just held him there, close as you could manage to, as you smiled into his chest.

You were free.

You were free.

“I assume that’s a yes?” He asked. His voice was almost a coo as he finally wrapped his arms around you and reciprocated the affection. The motion caught you by surprise. You didn’t mention it, though, not when you were so deeply entrenched in the feeling of his pulse soaring under your ear.

“A million times yes,”

“I’m glad,” he whispered, “It will give me solace to know you’ll be taken care of. Now, where will you go? What will you do? I want to hear it all. I need to know what I’ll miss once we’ve parted ways,”

You let an almost goofy grin cross your lips. “I’ll retire, buy a little house somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere France with cash, and spend the rest of my days on this earth living in delicious sin. There’ll be no more killing, just cooking and cleaning and painting. I might take up watercolors again. Maybe I’ll even stop by the castle on my way and grab that big painting of you as a token to remember you by,”

Helmut cringed beneath your cheek. “You wouldn’t,”

“I would,” you quipped back, “and I will! I’ll hang it right in the middle of the living room so all of my guests have to pay homage to the man who set me free,” The fact that you wanted to see his face every day as you sat on his couch went without saying. It was simply implied. Helmut seemed to gloss over that fact entirely.

“What will you tell them about me?”

“That you were a good man. A dear friend. Someone who left the world too soon after doing what had to be done,”

“Is that a promise?”

“Absolutely,”

As you breathed him in, Helmut became fully aware of just how close the two of you were, pushed tightly against the off-white wall of the bathroom as the smell of lemon cleaner just barely masked the sweet rot of death. If he minded, it didn’t show. You only pulled away from him when a soft knock on the door of the main room broke you from your reverie.

“That’s breakfast,” you muttered, “I’ll keep her from coming in,”

“You do that,” Helmut replied, but he hesitated before turning back to the mirror. “Y/N?” He called softly.

“Yes?”

“If I don’t get another chance to say it, thank you for everything. I won’t forget the kindness you’ve paid me,”

“Neither will I,”

“Will you stay with me till the end?”

“Always,”

Morning came quickly.

Not quick enough for your rest to feel unsatisfying, but still too fast. There would never be a period of time spent in Helmut’s arms that felt like it lasted long enough. In the end, though, you woke feeling a full-body warmth from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

There was no blaring alarm to rouse you this time, no spasms wracking you and dragging you out of your peace, there was only the soft chirping of birds and the gentle humming of the air conditioning unit as your eyes fluttered open and your arms stretched out to the bed beside you to find… nothing.

You paused.

After a moment of adjustment, you found that your eyes agreed with your hands. Helmut was gone.

Even in the worst heat of the fight the night before, you had never felt quite as upset as you did in that moment while realizing he had left you again. Tears pricked at your eyes. How could he? After all of his promises, he had left you alone the same way he had before. Knowing his schedule, he’d be long gone by now; off the runway and up in the air if not already on the ground at his next destination. The only thing that kept you from bursting into an angry choked sob was the sound of the bedroom door creaking open.

You clutched the sheets to your bare chest expecting one of your guests. Then, Helmut stepped into the bedroom.

What? He had stayed?

Your heart thundered in your chest at the sight of him.

He smiled broadly, with the sleeves of his striped cotton button-up bunched at his elbows and a dirty dishrag in his hands. His voice was soft and tender as he approached. Everything about him seemed so domestic that it almost brought you to tears all over again. “Schatz!” he cooed, reaching the edge of the bed, “did you sleep well?”

Nodding mutely, you offered a wet smile.

“I’m glad,” he said. One of his large hands found yours, still knotted up in the soft fabric of the sheets. The silver wedding band on his ring finger gleamed brightly in the soft daylight. “I hoped I could be here when you woke, but Sam and James requested breakfast and I didn’t want to wake you up quite yet. You seemed peaceful,”

“I was,” you let yourself lean into his touch and smiled when he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I am,”

Helmut sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to crawl back into bed with you and enjoy that peace. Unfortunately, I still have to finish cutting up fruit downstairs. I just wanted to make sure you were doing well when I found a minute to sneak away,”

“Well, I appreciate it,” your voice was light as you brought up your free hand to Helmut’s collar and pulled him down for a proper kiss.

He fell into the familiar rhythm with practiced ease. It was brief, just a momentary press of the lips, but it made your heart beat just a little quicker when you felt him against you, warm and real and solid. As soon as it began, though, it was over, and Helmut was pulling back with a smile. All the while, he never let go of your hand. The two of you sat silent for a while, happy to just relish in the feeling of being together, but a clang from downstairs urged a deep sigh from your husband as he finally stepped away. You hated to see him go.

“Duty calls,” He chuckled, accent thick, “Do you think that was James or Sam?”

You nodded softly. “My money’s on Bucky, but knowing what I do about those two it was probably both of their faults. You’d better go survey the damage before they break anything else,”

“I suppose I should,” Helmut paused, turning back to you with his hand on the doorknob. “Will you join us downstairs for breakfast? Or would you rather I bring you up something to eat once I finish entertaining our guests,”

It took a moment for you to respond.

There was a certain safety to remaining in bed. Helmut would be sure to return as quickly as he possibly could, doting on you once again with the same soft vulnerability. You would probably even be able to pull him back into bed with you if you waited long enough. Getting a few more hours of holding him would be a luxury, one rarely afforded even when things between the two of you weren’t rocky. Something, though, urged you towards the other option. Maybe it was the quiet aching in your legs or the urge to see if your husband was able to keep his commitment to bettering your relationship outside of your bedroom, there was no knowing, but the universe wanted what it wanted, and what it wanted was for you to get out of bed.

“You make leaving our room seem like I’m exploring some wild, new frontier,” you snorted, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed. You both ignored your nakedness, though Helmut’s eyes did linger on the swell of your breast as you stood. “But yeah, I should probably get up. I need to clean up anyway, after… well,” you gestured to the mess of dried slickness between your legs, “all that,”

Despite the fact that you had been married to Helmut for over a year and had known him much longer, there was a bashfulness in your regarding of the events from the past night. It might have had something to do with the absolutely caddish grin on his face as he beheld the reminder, though.

“I’ll set you your usual place at the counter,” he said, watching you wander over to the closet like some bare goddess in the morning sunlight. Before slipping away back downstairs, though, he indulged you with a sweet “I love you, Schatz. I’ll await your arrival downstairs eagerly,” Then, he was gone, having closed the door behind him and retreated back down the stairs to deal with whatever nonsense Sam and Bucky had gotten up to in his absence.

You giggled softly to yourself.

Sure, your head still ached slightly and there was a tremor in your hands that wouldn’t quite go away, but for the first time in months, you had hope. The sun seemed to shine extra brightly thanks to that fact. Inside the walk-in closet, Helmut’s cologne was once again just cologne, light and pleasant as you gathered up a soft t-shirt and some sweatpants. After some deliberation, you grabbed another one of his awful thrifted sweaters too.

It didn’t take long for you to take a quick shower next. You washed away the evidence of your coupling under the warm spray, and as you did, something told you that you’d be doing a lot of that in the future. The water was heaven on your aching limbs. About 15 minutes later, you were dry, dressed, and patting the dampness from your hair on the edge of the bed.

Beside you, the nightstand was almost entirely cleared off. At some point in the night Helmut had taken away the tray with the long-forgotten toast, but in its place sat your wedding ring. It seemed to stare up at you with a gaze all too human. The decision wasn’t an easy one to make, far from it actually, but as you pulled on your husband’s sweater you grabbed the ring and slipped it back onto your finger where it belonged, and where you hoped it would stay into the distant future.

With one last deep breath, you made your way out the door and down the stairs to find out exactly what your guests had gotten up to in your absence.

You heard them before you saw them.

“I said cube, James,” Zemo groaned from the kitchen, “not slice. Mangos are best enjoyed cubed,”

Sam chimed in next. “Dude, it’s just fruit! Does it really matter which way he slices it?”

“Maybe if you cared so much about how your fruit was cut up,” James added, “you could do it yourself!”

You crept softly from the landing to the archway leading into the kitchen only to find exactly what you expected. There, crowded around the island and all dressed up in matching aprons, were the three men, all fussing over some part or another of what looked to be a breakfast spread fit for a queen. Well, baroness. Same difference. The sight was one you enjoyed a little too much, so kept yourself quiet for the chance to witness just a little bit more of their natural conversation. Between them, in a high necked vase, sat the salvaged bouquet of spring flowers you had abandoned on the front table. You were glad to see they had made it through.

Zemo was the next one to speak, walking to the stove where he flipped a delicious smelling slice of french toast.

“I believe you were the one who offered to help out this morning. If you hadn’t I would have happily completed breakfast on my own,”

“Yeah, I offered because I’m not a complete jackass,” Bucky quipped back.

“Language, James,”

“God, please don’t ever say that to me again,”

“Apologies,”

Sam noticed you then, your soft chuckles a giveaway. He smiled warmly and set down the strawberry he was coring as he addressed you. “Hey! Look who it is!” In an instant, all eyes were on you. Somehow, though, the attention wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, your presence seemed to calm the constant animosity between your husband and your guests. “How are you feeling, Y/N?”

You replied with a smile. “As good as I can be. Did you guys break anything while I was upstairs?”

As you passed the men to take your own spot at the end of the island, Bucky looked up from his butchered mango almost sheepish. “No, no we didn’t break anything,” Quickly, he added, “It’s good to see you up and running again,”

“He broke a plate while playing catch with Sam this morning,” Zemo added, “Nothing important, we won’t miss it much,”

Bucky blanched.

The domesticity of it all was almost painful as the room shook with everyone's combined laughter. Even Bucky joined in once he got over his mortification. For a moment you all seemed like an odd sort of family, bustling around that kitchen as the last bits and bobs of breakfast were sliced and fried.

It smelled heavenly.

When you had the mind to sit down at your spot on the island to eat you found Helmut had just barely beaten you there and was pouring you a mug of coffee beside your full plate. Oh, how long had it been since you’d had coffee in the house? Probably since last January, when the short days were spent watching out the window for a man who wouldn’t come back. You disregarded the thought as you examined your plate. Tropical fruit, french toast, and a small portion of omelet (with more waiting in the pan), sat, fragrant and saccharine and ever so tempting, but instead of digging in you watched intently as Helmut poured your cream and doled out your sugar. He caught your gaze just as he set a small spoon in the mug to stir it with.

“You still remember how I take my coffee?” You asked.

Instead of answering, Helmut just watched as you brought the mug to your lips. It was, as expected, perfect. Sweet enough but still biting at your tongue as you swallowed it down. Hot, but not too much so. Just heated enough to warm you from the inside out. Perhaps it was Helmut’s gaze that warmed you too.

He turned back to the stove then, gathering his own plate, but you knew he was still watching you even when turned away.

“Of course I remember how you take your coffee,” he finally replied, “You’re my wife,”

“You didn’t get me perfect coffee,” Sam added from his place beside you, beginning to pick at his food as he stared at the dark liquid in his own cup.

“Yes, Sam, but you are certainly not my wife,”

The room was laughing again then, but in a quieter way. Helmut came back around the island with his own plate and took up his seat on your other side as you ate and drank your coffee in the warm glow of the morning light. There was something so alive about being surrounded by compatriots, even if your truce was temporary. Your husband could see the change in the way you smiled.

Slowly but surely, breakfast was eaten and seconds were doled out. You discovered that Bucky, for all his harshness, had a soft spot for french toast with extra syrup and he, in return, learned that mango really did taste better in cubes. The sun rose higher in the sky and, through glass doors, you could hear birdsong outside as they enjoyed the amenities of your garden. Maybe Sam and James could be put to work digging weeds…

You had to work hard to stop yourself from getting attached.

To the guests, to the laughter, to the house you’d lived and loved in. It would all be gone soon enough, shot through or smashed or burned in the months to come, as would you be. Still, you enjoyed it while you could. If this was to be one of your last true spring days, you would savor every tiny minuscule detail.

It did you no good to live in fear of the inevitable.

Instead, you enjoyed the moments in the hope that when it all did come crumbling down, you could face the end knowing you had truly lived.

Helmut’s voice pulled you from your morbidities as he finished the last bite of his omelet. “We’ll have to run out to the market for more groceries today, I’m afraid,” he hummed, “but perhaps that’s a blessing in disguise. It’s far too lovely a day to spend it cooped up inside,”

You quirked up an eyebrow. “We?”

“Yes. We, Schatz,”

Something about the way that he was trying so hard to write his past wrongs was incredibly endearing. It made you grin into your mug as you swallowed the dregs of your coffee. “I guess I could take some time out of my incredibly busy schedule to go shopping with you,”

“Could you really? I can hardly believe it,”

“I’ll have to actually get dressed first, but I could pen you into my schedule, just this once,”

“I hope that you won’t change out of that lovely sweater, though. I find it ravishing on you,”

“Oh, really? Thank you. It’s my husband’s,”

You said the word proudly, The sound of it made Helmut’s face flush as he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

Sam’s voice pulled you from the soft display.

“Man, you guys are so cute it’s kinda gross,”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but the set of his jaw made you think he agreed.

“My house, my rules Sam,” you jested, “and my rules are that I get to kiss my husband,”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just try not to get all mushy. Some of us are painfully single over here,”

“Like you?”

“No, not me, I get all the ladies. Bucky, on the other hand…”

“Hey!” Bucky interjected.

And you laughed. All of you laughed. You laughed and the world turned and somewhere across the globe, John Walker scoured Madripoor for an informant who could give him a lead on Sam and Bucky, but you didn’t know that, and even if you did, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care.

Not when Helmut’s hand was in your own, fingers laced together tight, as you brought your head to rest on his shoulder.

“Schatz?”

“Yes, Helmut?”

“I love you,”

“You know what darling? I love you too,”

You really did.

------

a/n: Wow. It feels so surreal to be done with this project. Thank you to every single person who has supported me through this process. It means more than you know. If you enjoyed the series, or want to scream into the void about it, I always love comments, so feel free to leave one! Thank you again!!!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace , @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy​ , @wh0re-4-techno​ , @forcebros​ , @sugarsweetkiss​ , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff​ , @killsandthrills​ , @novasstudy​ , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp​ , @inmate-marmalade​ , @alanathedeer​ , @your-pixels-are-showing​ , @shit-post-things​ , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus​ , @halefirewarrior​ , @janelongxox​ , @rax-writes​ , @wondermia69​ , @booklover2929​ , @lol-im-done​ , @rorodendra​ , @spookycereal-s​ , @viviace​ , @wxrmh0le​ , @whatawildone​ , @mush-room-princess​ , @aliyahsfantasticlife​ ,  @gredvb​ , @chipster-21​ , @whatawildone​ , @cloud-of-roses​ , @bry-97​ , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​ , 

Please don’t repost my works, thanks!

[g4rous]

Sunlit memories (Garou x Reader)

tags: slight mentions of blood, no warnings really

words: 1.5 k

notes: this one is slightly longer than the two before bc I had to put in a lot of stuff here lol but anyways aa here it is finally! Tried making it a bit lighthearted <3

series masterlist

previous chapter

Chapter three

After lazily opening your eyes, pain spread through your head. The blackness from your vision cleared away, leaving a fog in your mind and the painful sensation was the first thing you could register before you felt the cold brick wall you were leaning on.

What just happened? Trying to recall how you got in that position, your eyes trailed to the opposite wall, now realizing you didn’t even remember being in this alley in the first place.

“Yo, you’re awake.”

Looking over at a few large wooden crates, your focus now shifted to the silver-haired teen sitting on top of them. You didn’t even make out a response upon witnessing the injuries behind his torn, black shirt. The puzzle was coming together.

Last sight you remember before going unconscious were the heroes from that mini-market fighting the same person right in front of you now. For a moment you almost thought you were being delirious, yet those wounds only proved your suspicions. Was he the self-proclaimed “Hero Hunter” everyone has been wild about recently?

“So…” he looked at you with an awkward expression, “ you gonna go now or?”

Slightly flinching as you snapped back to reality, now you were left completely perplexed on what to do. On one hand the realization made you feel quite uneasy, but on the other you were safe for some reason, despite getting caught up in the ruckus from before.

“What happened to those guys earlier..?”

“Oh, their bodies are probably still lying face down right around the corner,” he grinned, “if no one found them already, that is.”

However after picking up your distraught expression that boastful tone faded in an instant.

“Hey, hey they’re not dead, jeez quit freaking out.”

You only frowned after giving him a small glare. Your head still ached, although not as strong from a few minutes ago. How long have you been out? Judging by the still-sunset sky it shouldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, much to your relief. The street was still deserted and silent as well.

“Well, thanks for saving my skin back there I guess…” you looked over at his injuries, staggering for a moment after standing up.

“However, you should definitely get those injuries checked out. I think I saw a hospital or something around here somewhere.”

A few seconds passed as he looked at you with a blank stare.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Dude you’re literally bleeding all over.”

“I said I’m fine!-“, he exclaimed only to flinch in pain. “-why are you so worried anyways? Just go home.”

“Talk about stubborn,” you thought to yourself.

Though, on second thought you do see a good reason why he shouldn’t. It’s almost as if you had forgotten that you witnessed him straight up thrash some A-classes. That and all the other questions that piled up still haven’t left your mind, but be as it may now wasn’t the time for overthinking. People must be pursuing him everywhere now, huh?

You leaned against the wall, still contemplating the situation. Water droplets from the roof were the only thing breaking the silence as you both stood there quiet. That is, until you got an idea.

“I don’t plan on talking you into it anymore…” you spoke with a tinge of nervousness, “but I do have some bandages at home. It’ll just be ten minutes until we get there, I give you them and you can leave. I don’t think sitting on those crates until you bleed out is really practical.”

The teen almost reflexively wanted to protest but not a single sentence came out. He really couldn’t think of anything that made your idea sound regrettable, and as much as he hated to admit it he wasn’t in the best shape. You on the other hand felt almost obligated to help him out. Putting aside that shocking realization from earlier, he did watch over you after you got KO’d.

After finally jumping off the crates, he shrugged and put both hands in his pockets.

“Eh, sure.”

You gave a relieved smile before taking a look at the still empty street you were both heading for. The sky turned into shades of amaranthine and bit by bit street lights began illuminating the path. The streets nearing your house weren’t as deserted as the one you woke up in, and occasionally you had to move to a more hidden route. Fortunately you’ve been greeted by your neighborhood cat soon after, indicating the destination- your safe home.

“I don’t think you told me your real name yet, if I may know? I’m y/n by the way.”

“It’s Garou,” he responded after looking around, almost hesitantly.

“So… Why were you doing that today?” you spoke as you reached out for your keys.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Dunno, you don’t see someone beating up heroes every day.”

Taking a quick glance around your surroundings, you opened the door at last.

“You sure like answering questions with a question, huh?” you gave a tired smile, “ah, I won’t force out any answers from you I guess.”

The lights in the hallway were already open, illuminating the other rooms, some half empty. After all you still had some work to do in the house. Making your way to your room, the bag of trash next to the wall caught your attention briefly. You couldn’t remember the reason you left off in such a hurry, not even throwing it away.

“Well, come in!” you shouted from the other room, “just don’t get any blood on the carpet please.”

But much to your amusement the on-the-outside intimidating man just stood there with a blank expression ever since you stepped into the apartment. You weren’t sure was it politeness or just plain awkwardness but it made you cackle internally.

Even so, after your call he cautiously stepped out to the living room, actually being careful not to dirty the carpet as you told. The room was pleasingly decorated, and even if he didn’t know you it simply radiated with your energy. It was oddly comfortable.

And as you finally stepped out of your room with that first-aid kit, a ring on your doorbell caught you both by surprise. You almost asked yourself whether that’s a hero in front of the door, before your memory got jogged again.

“Well shit.”

You gestured an already alert and intense Garou to step away from the door, to which he only raised an eyebrow.

“Ah…” you whispered, looking over to the side, “I kinda forgot I called a friend over.”

“You remembered just now!?”

“I was knocked out!” you complained, much to his discontent.

What were you supposed to do now? You thought to yourself as your eyes trailed from the door to the teen. The doorbell rang once again as to make the atmosphere grow even more unsteady.

“Guess we have to improvise…”

“You’re joking right?”

“If she saw a beat-up guy jumping out my window I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

He only rolled his eyes as you went to the door to finally greet your friend, adjusting your shirt along the way.

Frankly, you felt somewhat guilty for roping him in, all bloody and bruised to socialize with your rather concerned friend. Well, who wouldn’t get a little suspicious to see a strange man in their friend’s living room. To make things even more awkward he hadn’t said more than two sentences in the past hour, not that it’s surprising.

“So-,” your friend smiled, desperately trying not to glare at the man’s injuries, “- how did you two become friends?”

“Ah, it’s from that monster incident I told you about earlier,” you smiled back.

“So that’s why he’s so bruised,” she glanced over at him sympathetically, to which he only glared at you deadpan.

“Nothing special.” He spoke in a bluntly before yawning.

“Oh, how come?”

“He delivers stuff!” you exclaimed before any other thoughts came to mind, “sometimes he comes across them there too unfortunately. Poor guy.”

As if his deadpan look couldn’t get any drier.

It was crystal clear he hates being pitied, and you desperately tried not to let out a chuckle because of the ridiculous situation. Truthfully you weren’t even nervous anymore since you let out so many laughs. And your constant teasing only made him talkative since he just had to drop something even more embarrassing for payback, making the evening even more amusing. You didn’t even notice the clock struck midnight already from all the banter.

After saying farewell to your friend, you came back to your living room to see Garou already at the window.

“Looks like you really don’t wanna use the door today huh? Well, way better now than having to explain why some bloody dude jumped out my window earlier,” you grinned, to which he scoffed.

“Pfft, yeah, yeah. Don’t drag me into any more of these things though.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Well, it better not happen anymore,” he rolled his eyes before flashing a small grin.

“See ya.”

You only gave your small wave before finally closing the window. The apartment was now rather serene, contrasting all the playfulness from earlier. Yet still you couldn’t help but notice that smile caught you by surprise. Nothing like that cocky smirk in battle- this was genuine.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

IN NEED FOR A PRIVATE LESSON

Prompt: Request from the beautiful @banks4life Thank you so much for your request babes ❤️😘

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, exhibitionism (sex in a public place), dirty talk, marking kink (by ejaculation on the mouth).

Tags: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @auawdo , @lustyromantic , @babydee17 , @yungbludjazz360

Notes: This was such a delightful experience to write. I loved every second of it! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check them out on my Masterlist. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“I’m so excited!” Ember Moon, my best friend, happily clapped her hands

“Yeah, I can see that” I chuckled

“But who wouldn’t, though? We are going to have Roman Reigns himself teach us new moves! Who wouldn’t scream at that?” Ember asked

I try to hide my blush when I remind of all the times I screamed his name while coming on my vibrator at a random hotel room.

“I would” I mumbled softly

“I heard he’s an incredible guy. Plus he’s really hot too, so” Ember shrugged

“I’ll have to agree with that”

“You have the major crush on him Y/N. How are YOU feeling about all of this?” She asked as we warm up

“Honestly? I tried to call in sick today but you know I’m a terrible liar, so I didn’t succeeded”

Ember laughed “Why would you do that?”

“Because I masturbate every damn night thinking about him! Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to actually have to stare at him for God knows how many hours while last night plays in my head?” I crook an eyebrow at her, but Ember’s shocked face was unexpected to me.

“What, Ember? C’mon you KNOW I do that, don’t give me that shocked face. Fuck, I’m surprised my vibrator hasn’t broke yet, counting the amount of times I use it and think of Rom-“

Ember quickly covered my mouth with her hand and turned me around so I could see the most devastating scene of my life.

Roman Reigns stood behind me, with a cocky look on his face and a sinful smirk placed on his lips.

“Hello ladies” He greeted

“Hi” Ember answered, but I couldn’t even speak from embarrassment

“Hi, Y/N” His voice dropped, becoming deeper

I just nodded

“You have 5 minutes before we get started ladies” He winks, making his way to the ring.

“Oh God, I wanna die” I whispered-screamed

“Y/N-“

“Why didn’t you told me he was right behind me, Ember?” I angrily asked

“I tried, but you didn’t got the hint” She begins to laugh

“Goddamn it...You should’ve punched me in the face! It would be less embarrassing”

“Oh please, Y/N. Don’t be so dramatic, you’re an adult woman and he’s an adult man, I’m pretty sure he knows all about the human body needs at this point. And by the looks of it, he quite enjoyed listening to you” She winked

“Oh shut up” I push her away when she tried to hug me.

......................................................................

“Ok guys, that’s it. Two more moves and we’ll wrap it up” Roman said

After 10 minutes, everybody got cleared to go back to the hotel.

“Aren’t you coming?” Ember asked

“Nah, I feel like my moves are not that good so I’m gonna stay and practice some more”

“Are you sure, Y/N? I mean, you’re gonna be here all by yourself”

I rolled my eyes “I’ll be fine, Ember. Trust me”

“Okay, but if you need anything give me a heads up”

“Yes ma’am” I smiled at her

......................................................................

Fifty minutes have now passed, I can’t seem to get these moves correctly and I’m becoming more and more frustrated by the minute.

“FUCK ME!” I screamed in rage as I slap one of the ropes

“I beg your pardon?” His voice asked from behind me

*Oh great, he’s still here! Jesus, can this day get any more embarrassing?*

“Roman, sorry I- I wasn’t talking to you” I tried to apologize

“Unfortunately” He said, stepping closer to the ring

“What? I don’t understand”

“I said unfortunately” He’s now inside the ring

“Why, unfortunately?”

“Because for a minute there, I thought you were asking me to fuck you” Roman smirked

“Oh” I gasped

“What’s wrong? Having some trouble?” He asked, placing his duffel bag on the corner of the ring

“Yeah, it’s just.. I feel like I’m doing something wrong but I don’t know what it is” I answered in defeat

“Show me how you’re doing it”

“No, it’s fine really. I don’t want to hold you back, I’m sure I can figure it out wh-“

“Y/N! Just do what I say” Roman command and I oblige, showing him exactly what I was doing for the past 1 hour.

“See? It doesn’t look like how you showed” I sighed

“It’s because you’re doing a few things wrong, come here”

I stand by his side and he shook his head, motioning for me to stand in front of him, with my back facing him.

“Ok, so here’s your problem” He places both hands on my hips, pulling me towards him.

“You need to let your hips loose, they’re to stiff” Roman’s hands squeeze my hips and glued them to his crotch.

“Like this” He whispered on my ear and made my hips circle around his crotch

“Can you feel it?” He asked, clearly talking about his hard on

I nodded, enjoying the feeling of his hard cock against my ass

“This is your fault” Roman nibbles my ear lightly “You did this to me” He pressed one hand on my lower belly, so I could get even more close to him. Roman stopped my hips, holding them still so he could grind against my ass.

“You, your dirty mouth and perfect ass, did this to my cock” He growled

My head was buzzing with excitement. Was this really happening? I’ve wanted this for so long that I felt like I was dreaming.

“Tell me, Y/N, do you really touch yourself thinking about me?”

“Yes” I panted

“Hmmm, tell daddy exactly what you think of, baby” He pinched my nipples through my t-shirt

“I-I think about daddy’s cock claiming me, fucking me hard and merciless until I can’t control my body anymore. Until I can’t stop coming around daddy’s dick” I moaned

Roman growls on my ear as his hand sink down the waist band of my leggings, reaching my mound. He devour the nape of my neck while two fingers slide through my folds, spreading my wetness.

“You’re soaking, baby” He murmured, sliding two fingers in “And so, so tight..You’re gonna feel amazing around me”

“Daddy, please” I beg when he reached my clit

Roman laid me down on the ring, quickly yanking my leggings and panties down, followed by my t-shirt, sports bra and his own clothes.

He slowly slides inside of me, once he’s buried deep, he locked his arms underneath my knees so my legs could be as spread as he wanted them to be.

And fuck, was he thick!

“Daddy” I whined, in a bittersweet tone of pleasure and pain

“Shhhh baby, it’s ok. You’re going to get used to it before you know it”

Roman’s lips were sweet as he kissed me to take my focus away from his thickness.

Slowly he begins to move, the friction is so heavenly it makes me even more wet.

“How could you possibly get wetter? Fuck, Y/N” Roman moaned, looking down to where our bodies met “Such a good pussy” He whispered to himself

“Daddy, fuck me harder”

“Harder?” He asked amused and I nodded “Who would have thought that this angel’s face is such a dirty girl” He smirked, turning up the pace. But for me, still wasn’t enough

“Harder” I pleaded

“Fuck, you’re amazing” He cackled, setting a furious pace

“Yes, daddy. Just like that” I moaned loudly

With each hard thrust I felt him hitting my g-spot. With every pump in, I moan louder.

“You’re gonna come for daddy, baby? I can feel you getting tighter”

I can only nod in agreement

“Come baby, come on daddy’s cock”

And so I do. Coating his length with my juices. When I’m down from my high, Roman knelt and quickly pulls off saying

“Tell daddy to feed you his cum, baby”

I place myself in all fours “Please daddy, feed me your cum” I repeat the same words he said, opening my mouth for him and savoring the taste of his seed upon my tongue before swallowing it.

Roman collapse into the ring, pulling me down with him.

“Thank you for the private lesson, professor” I teased

“My pleasure, baby” He chuckled “What you’re gonna do later?”

“Nothing, besides going back to the hotel, taking a shower and watch some movies. Why?” I asked and Roman hovered over me

“In that case, what do you say about learning some new moves back at the hotel?” He nibs my lower lip

“Hmmmm, I think I could some new techniques” I smiled

Already thinking about all of the dirty things that man would do to me

Please if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this. Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[bewitchedbodyandsol]

If I Were Not Myself

Description: Reader is a mandalorian from Din’s covert who was manipulated into taking off her helmet. HEAVILY based on Pierre and Natasha from Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812. Takes place before the child (bc age reasons and character development has not happened). Trying to stay as close to the approximate ages in Great Comet/War and Peace, putting Din at 27 while reader is 19. 

 Notes: Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812 makes me absolutely mad. The only spoken lines in the musical and it makes my heart shatter. Okay, I don’t think Din would be as courteous towards a dar’manda as I write him but also like, this is a Din/Pierre hybrid, so. And yes I know that based on these ages Toro Calican would have barely been born, but um, yeah <3. IT’S MY FIC AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT.  Also, this is my first time writing and posting fan fiction so um, yeah <3

Word Count: 2.9K

Rating: G

Tags/warnings: Thoughts of death (in an almost philosophical way). fem!reader Dar’manda!reader, war and peace au? No use of y/n, slightest hint of Toro Callican x reader and Paz x Reader (like they’re mentioned), age gap

If I were not myself,

But the brightest,

Handsomest,

Best man on earth,

And if I were free,

I would get down on my knees,

This minute,

And ask you for your hand.

And for your love.

The mandalorians-the mandalorian and the dar’manda, stood in front of each other. The air still. When he had initially seen her he ran towards her, he stopped less than a foot away and reached a hand out to her, but instead of taking his outstretched hand like he had expected, she slowly moved past him. She put an awkward amount of distance between the two. The gap between them too large for how friendly they normally were, while anything closer seemed too overwhelming. Din knew he had to stay far enough away to keep himself from completely engulfing the girl in an embrace, fists curling at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to her again. 

---- 

Din had known the young woman her entire life, for she was born shortly after he had been taken in as a foundling. While all families in the covert were friendly with one another, theirs had been especially close. And they had been especially fond of each other. The age difference caused them to participate in different activities and talk with different social groups but did not stop them from interacting completely. In fact, the two mandalorians had grown to be close friends. The young girl confided in Din about her newest crush on the covert while he doted on her for it and she would laugh at the gruff noises he made while being teased by peers, watching him try to act tough while knowing he would huff and puff to her about it later. 

He had watched her grow, from a nervous young girl who stood in the middle of a room filled with people simply to make them listen to her sing, to a young woman who knew how to carry herself and gain the attention of her peers from sheer presence. At the same time, the girl watched Din grow from a flustered teenage boy to a closed off young man who became more and more stoic with each passing visit. 

As the years went on the two became distant, caught up in the paths life had put them on. Din started running with Ran’s crew, his visits to the covert became few and far between, while she had stayed and chose to act as a nurse for the foundlings. Their friendship seemingly evaporated, dissolved to nothing but pleasantries. The young woman noticed the growing weight on her dear friend’s shoulders, but was unknowing of the whirlwind he found himself caught in. His growing reputation, worrisome discoveries he made about himself, and the insatiable twi’lek girl he had gotten tangled with. 

During his last visit home, Din had introduced the young woman to his friend Paz Vizsla. The two had known of each other for quite some time but had never formally been introduced, and quickly after he acquainted them Din felt a shift in the air, as if he was intruding on something he was not meant to see. He had not expected the pair to become so infatuated with one another. Aware of Paz’s past, the hardships he faced, losing not only a wife but a child at a young age, and the battles he fought; and the young woman’s naivete, having rarely left the covert herself and her general lack of life experience. So when he heard that they planned to wed, he had been surprised to say the least. 

That had only been one year ago. A year, and yet so much had changed. Din truly had not planned on a return home for quite some time. While he had been on the planet for a while, as the crew had a job that stationed them there, he had not planned on visiting the covert. As he had no obligations to do so, prior to the holo he had received from the girl's aunt in which she explained the situation to him and pleaded for him to return. She explained how the girl had broken off her engagement to Paz and made plans to run away with Toro Calican, whom she had only known for a few days, instead. Din had heard of Calican before and had even had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting him once, he found the suave young man obnoxious and to be nothing but trouble. Oh but what angered him the most about the young man, was seeing his own worst qualities reflected right back at him. His fears and flaws were flaunted by the young mercenary. When Din heard it was Calican the girl had become involved with, he didn’t even have time to think before it had slipped past his lips that the young man himself was married, and unlike Paz his wife was still alive. The girl’s aunt had begged him to return to scare Calican off the planet and to attempt to speak some sense into the girl. But when Din had returned it had been too late, she had revealed her face to an already married man, and unknowingly to her, his friends as well. Leaving her dar’manda. 

--- 

It felt almost inappropriate to stand in front of her in this state. With her lack of armor and helmet, she might as well have been naked from a cultural standpoint. She stood in the middle of the room in her thermals. Her beskar had been stripped from her, no doubt to be given to someone more deserving, a foundling most likely. Her back towards him, Din noticed her arms hung still next to her, obviously too exhausted to even subconsciously twiddle the edges of her shirt like she used to do when she was a younger, more nervous girl. When she turned around and looked at him, it felt like she could see into his soul. The helmet prevented her from looking him in the eyes, but having worn a helmet herself and interacting with so many others who did the same, she easily knew where his were hidden behind the mask. And when he looked into her eyes, Din could see the weight of the galaxy crashing down on her. 

“Din Djarin.” She tested out his name. And something in him shattered. No one had referred to him by name in so long, simply referring to him as ‘mando’, but Din Djarin was not the name she had used the last time he saw her. No, she had simply called him Din. The sudden change in formality made tense, as he took a second to respond. “Din” He took a breath and corrected her. It wasn’t until the girl’s face shot down did he realize he had started leaning forward, his weight shifted to the balls of his feet, left hand flexing at his side. 

He hadn’t seen her face in six years. No one had. Like most in the covert the young girl had sworn the creed promptly at the age of 13. After swearing the creed she had grown into herself, the young nervous girl Din had become friends with was replaced by a confident young woman. A skilled fighter and diplomat, yet as charming and giddy as ever. He could only imagine how she had grown ever more captivating as time went on. Din had never thought it to be a shame if a beautiful face was hidden behind a wall of beskar, his religion more important than simple vanity, and yet. As he saw her face on full display, he understood. Understood how someone who had become so enamored by the girl could do such a selfish thing, ask her to take off her helmet. 

“Vizsla was, Vizsla is your friend.” She corrected herself. Her ex-fiancé had fought in a far off battle for so long she had developed the bad habit of assuming him dead. Once again, the girl’s sudden formality was not lost on Din, referring to her ex fiancé as Vizsla rather than her usual endearing Paz. “He once told me that I should turn to you.” 

He had always reproached dar’mandas, finding them to be less than. Thought they had already shown themselves to be unworthy of the mandalorian title and armor if they could so easily take it off. That it took a truly weak man to break from The Way, from a people that loved fiercely and unconditionally. He wanted so badly to despise her. To give her the same scowl and acid laced words he might anyone else. But there was something about the way the young woman held her head. As if, even though she no longer had her helmet, she still did not want her face to be shown, and at that any chance of reproach towards her had died. Instead it was replaced by a feeling of pity. He had wanted to believe he felt nothing but pity for her, but he knew that wasn’t right. There was something else, something he was unable to place. 

“He’s returned. When you see him… Can you please tell him to, please tell him to forgive me.” She moved as if she meant to wring her hands, but when her fingertips found skin instead of leather gloves, they quickly shot back down to her sides. 

“Yeah, I’ll-I’ll tell him.” Din’s throat tightens as he recalls his conversation with Paz. How his friend returned from battle only to hear of his fiancé having an affair, removing her helmet in front of people who were not her riduur or ade. Recalling Paz’s posture, his voice almost malicious yet so pained when he said he could not forgive the girl of her actions. How the image of Paz, a man Din looked up to, had been shattered with a few simple words. “But-” 

“I know everything’s over, that chance of anything is gone.” Her head shot up, as if she had read his mind, anticipated his words. “But still, I’m haunted by what I’ve done, what I’ve done to him. Tell him please, to forgive me. For everything.” 

“I’ll tell him to forgive you. I’ll tell him everything.” Din nodded, as he thought of his next words carefully. “I want to know one thing. Did you really love him? Did you love that bad man” His voice sounded hoarser than usual. 

“Don’t call him bad.” She spat out. “But I, I don’t know. I really don’t.” Though the speed of her response told Din her real answer. That in some said way, yes, she really had loved Toro Calican. The man who had pushed her farther than anyone else had, pushed the boundary most important to anyone who shared their creed. Pushed her to do something she had never previously thought about. So uncaring of consequences. And if she had not loved him, she at least still held strong feelings for him. For the man who had manipulated her.

The young woman turned away from Din and began to cry. And he could hear the dam of emotions she held back break in the sob she let out. He could do nothing but watch as she began to crumple in on herself. The same feeling of pity from earlier returned, but it was now accompanied by a tenderness he had become unfamiliar with and that same something he was still unable to place. Din felt the tears pool at his jaw before he was even able to comprehend that he had started to cry. Thankful for his helmet as it prevented anyone from seeing the tears that rolled down his cheek. 

“Hey, we don’t. We don’t have to talk about it anymore, ner vod.” The familiarity slipped out of his mouth, meant to comfort them both. He slowly made his way towards her, reached his hand out the same as he had done earlier. “But. I’m still, your friend. And if you ever need someone to talk to, or someone to open your heart to. Not now, but, when your mind is clear. Think of me.” 

Din grew confused.

He had no idea where any of this was coming from. Especially after her had become so closed off over the past few years. He had felt more in the past few minutes here with her, warm and tender feelings that he had not realized he so dearly missed, than he possibly had in years. And there it was, that feeling he had been unable to place, unable to give a name, coming to the surface. Love. He had always carried affection towards her, in one way or another, but this was different. Love, something he had started to wonder if he was incapable of. 

“Don’t talk to me like that.” She snapped. “I don’t, I don’t deserve it.” Came out softer, sadder, and she practically scurried away from the man. Like she truly believed it. 

“Stop! Stop. You have the rest of your life-” The first stop a command, the second a plea. The girl stopped, her back still faced him. 

“The rest of my life? My life is over.” The girl reached the doorway she had entered through earlier, a tight grip on the wall. 

“Over.” He repeated. Looking at the girl, he saw a reflection of himself. His fears and flaws hung heavy around the girl. The same horrible thoughts that had plagued his mind not so long ago. 

The knowledge that one was capable of hurting people doing bad things, the thought that death might be more accepting and caring fate. The fear that life had ended before it even began. But unlike when he had seen those same traits in Toro Calican, who wore them with pride, he saw the same level of fear in the young woman that he had felt. 

And suddenly, everything stopped. 

“If I were not myself.” 

The young woman froze at his words. Din had not even registered that he was speaking until he had finished. 

“But the brightest, handsomest

Best man in the galaxy” 

Din had done bad things. Din had done bad things and enjoyed doing them. He had dangerous thoughts, dangerous intentions, and a dangerous way of life. He knew he was still not the man he needed to be. So much to improve upon before even thinking of settling down with someone, let alone the young woman in front of him. Though she was not perfect either, not the woman he knew she was capable of becoming, but he still thought she was deserving of perfection. 

“And If I were free-” His throat threatened to close. 

The Xi’an of it all was, Din was not in the position to be offering his love to someone else. And while they were not the ideal couple, he was still tied to her. He had his suspicions that the twi’lek girl might have been seeing other men along with him, but it did not stop him from remaining faithful to the girl. Along with the weight of his relationship on his heart, was the beskar lock he kept tight on it. His creed, the most important thing in his life. What he held himself to above all else. She was dar’manda, while he was not. A fact he could not simply ignore. Any hopes of a relationship between the two had been destroyed when she revealed herself. But he could not stop himself from loving her, from wishing he could do this one thing for her. 

“I would get down on my knees this minute 

And ask you for your hand” His voice strained. It could truly be that simple, they could be married in the matter of seconds. Vows exchanged, tied to each other for the rest of their lives. It was something he had never dreamed of, but as he stood in front of the young woman now. There was nothing he wanted more. 

“And for your love” 

The young woman turned around.

And reality comes crashing down. 

She makes her way over to him faster than Din thought safe for someone in her state. Her breaths jagged as she tries to control her tears. Tenderness replacing the earlier weight in her eyes. 

His breath hitches when her hand touches the cheek of his helmet. But he lets her, trusting her single hand to not make any bold moves, knowing the girl would not dare to lift the helmet off his head, to damn him to the same fate she had damned herself. Din’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes closing behind his helmet as he leans into her hand. A tear rolls down his cheek. The young woman simply looks at the man in front of her. And she gives him the softest smile he has ever seen. 

“Oh Din,” she whispers. ‘Thank you’, she means to continue, but the words are caught in her throat, leaving her to simply mouth them instead. She lets her hand fall from his face and leaves the room, smiling. 

Din stands and watches her leave, trying to hold back any oncoming tears, and lets out a shaky breath. Realizing his job here is done, he turns around to leave. Bumping into the doorway on his way out, he takes a deep steady breath, and makes his way to the Razor Crest.