#I wanted to draw her huddling

[wyrm-with-a-why]

Me explaining that if it can’t be my night then it can’t be Megatron’s night either

Everyone’s favourite girl failure🩷

[lyjen]

Drowning

Summary: Evan’s wife is an Elementary school teacher, but when a shooter enters the school and starts shooting at teachers, (Y/n) is the first person to help. Evan gets worried as his wife doesn’t pick up her phone, but as soon as the shooting reaches the news Evan is desperate to find out where she is.

Request by: anonymous - The request

9-1-1 masterlist

Taglist: @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

______

“So I want you to both be thinking about it. Put those two brains together, I want you to solve it and be able to explain how you solved it” (Y/n) finished her math instruction. “I’m going to give you two minutes to try and solve this question, you’re ready?” Her voice sounded through the classroom as she clicked on start on the timer which was displayed on the screen.

(Y/n) was an elementary school teacher, she teaches the fifth grade to be specific. She has her own classroom, a teacher assistant intern, and a really good bond with her students. She loves her job, she really does. There’s nothing in the world she’d rather be doing than working with children. Her husband, on the other hand, loved being a firefighter. It was his life, and in his words: he wouldn’t know where he’d be if he never started the fire academy.

When one of the kids asked her if she had a boyfriend, she told them she was married to a firefighter. The students were so enthusiastic and full of questions, so she decided to take the kids to the firehouse one day, to teach them about firefighters, dispatch and everything Bobby had to tell.

“Okay, so some of you came up with an answer and a solution.” She speaks to the group as she holds up her hand, motioning to the kids who were ready to throw their answer to her head, to hold up their hands. “Do we have a volunteer to tell us what answer they got and how they got it?” multiple hands had gone up into the air, but those hands quickly were put down when loud screams sounded through the hallways.

But it was the gunshot that went off after that which caught her attention the most. Her eyes shot towards her teacher assistant Katy, who was sitting at the desk grading some homework as she immediately dropped the pen. Katy’s eyes went wide when she realized what was happening while multiple gasps from the students filled the silence in the room.The gunshot sent a shiver down (Y/n)’s whole body, as she remembered the three words: Run, hide, fight.

That was the protocol. Run if you can, hide if you can not evacuate safely and fight if your life is in danger.

“Everyone. Hide underneath your desks” She said softly as she tried to stay as calm as she possibly could.

The students all get off their seats and follow their teachers instructions as Katy runs off to the windows and closes the blinds. Meanwhile (Y/n) gets the remote for the screen and quickly shuts it off and runs towards the lightswitch to turn it off.

“Katy, help me move this” she says as she tries to push a mid-high bookcase in front of the door to barricade it. Katy quickly moves towards (Y/n) and helps her move the cabinet, so no one would be able to get in or out of the classroom.

When the cabinet was on the right spot, (Y/n) made her way towards the kids to make sure they were okay.

“You’re okay, we’re going to be fine” (Y/n) whispered softly to one of the students who was having a breakdown. She took place on the ground and folded her legs over each other, and she rubbed her hands over the kid’s upper arm, as a sign that she was there. They were not alone.

She let her fingers wipe away the tears of the girl’s cheeks and tried to hush her. She didn’t want to draw any attention. The girl almost started hyperventilating because she was that scared. “Amelia I need you to take slow deep breaths” (Y/n) whispered almost inaudibly. The girl nodded her head as she tried to copy her teacher’s breathing pattern. “Good, through your nose and out through the mouth” (Y/n) complimented her.

Huddled up with some kids to her side, (Y/n) tried her best to calm down the kids who were having a hard time to deal with the situation. Students around her were silently crying, while they were comforting themselves and each other.

There was an ear deafening silence floating through the classroom. They could practically hear the clock on the wall, ticking after each minute that had gone by.

With every footstep she heard on the hallway outside of the classroom, (Y/n)’s heart would skip a beat. There could be children running for their lives, other teachers or the shooter choosing their next victim.

After minutes, maybe even an hour of sitting in silence, a high pitched yelp sounds through the walls of her classroom. But that scream gets cut off by a sudden gunshot. More gasps and sobs sound softly through the classroom. With wide eyes (Y/n) tries to focus on the sound of the hallway.

“No. No, what are you going to do?!” Katy’s voice whispered desperately as (Y/n) crouched down and made her way towards the door of her classroom. The assistant crawled her way towards (Y/n), who was down at the door. Looking through the little gap between the window of the door and the bookcase.

(Y/n) glances through the window and spots a fellow teacher, down on the ground while a puddle of blood is being created underneath her. “Don’t be a hero” Katy says as softly as she possibly could.

She turned her head at Katy, “She’s hurt and needs help, I can’t just leave her to..” she shrugged her shoulders, she couldn’t say die. Not with her kids around, not when they were already traumatized enough by the sounds “You know..” she continued as she shrugged her shoulders.

She couldn’t do nothing. That was not who she was.

“But the shooter is still out there.” Katy says as she desperately starts to look around her. “That’s why I need you to stay here and keep them safe” (Y/n) whispered as she pointed out at her class. Katy shook her head with a frightened look in her eyes “No.. I can’t do that” Katy sighed as she looked at the kids.

“It wasn’t a question Katy, stay here and keep them safe. Close the door behind me” She repeated one more time as she looked at her over the shoulder.

With both her hands she moved the bookcase on one end a little backwards so she was able to squeeze through the gap of the door. Her hand reached for the lever of the door, as she as silently as possible pulled the lever down and squeezed her body through the door. (Y/n) could hear the door close behind her.

Still crouching, she made her way towards her colleague and let her knees drop to the ground when she reached her. “You’re gonna be okay” she said, barely inaudible as she made eye contact with her. The teacher had lost a lot of blood, the puddle was becoming bigger with the second.

The female teacher had been shot in the chest. (Y/n) went with her first instinct, putting pressure on the wound. Without thinking, she pressed her bare hands onto the chest of the woman. The woman winced and hissed at the pain that was being pushed onto her gunshot wound. “I know it hurts, but you have to stay with me okay?” (Y/n) said as her eyes wandered from the wound to the woman’s eyes.

She was on the edge of passing out. (Y/n) could tell. The woman was blinking so fast, and she looked exhausted. “Shit” (Y/n) cursed as the eyes of the woman rolled to the back of her head. Quickly she pressed two fingers of her right hand into the skin of the neck to see if she had a pulse.

Her heart was still beating, which meant she just had to put pressure onto the wound. So the heart would have enough blood to pump around.

But then the feeling of a cold metal getting pressed onto her skin spreads a shiver down her entire body. Her mouth suddenly went dry and her heart was pounding in her chest, as if it was trying to break free from her chest.

(Y/n) was frozen in her position, hovering over the woman. Putting pressure to the wound which was still trying to bleed through the small gaps between her fingers..

“Let go” the sound of a low male voice said.

She swallowed, as she felt the metal being pushed, deeper into her skin. She slightly shook her head, “You don’t have to do this” she slowly said as she kept as still as possible. “I do, everyone in this building has to pay for what they did for me.”

A click sounded. He reloaded his gun. Just one click away from a bullet inside of her head.

“I get it.” her voice said as she felt her breathing become faster because of the adrenaline. “When they don’t see you. And no one is there to help.” She squeezed her eyes closed at the pressure of the gun that was being pushed into the side of her forehead.

“Shut. Up.” His voice hissed at (Y/n).

Tears were falling down her face as she tried to keep enough pressure on the wound of the woman. “Struggling every single day of your life, trying to find a reason to be here”

“I said shut up!” he yelled as he fired a warning shot into the concrete walls of the hallway.

She flinched at the sudden gunshot. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t give up. She needed to try, and enter his mind. Try to talk him out of it, or buy herself more time. “The bucket will fill itself with more and more water everyday. And one day, that bucket will overflow.” She tried to remain strong as her voice became more trembling by every word she spoke.

The man pushes the gun once again into her skin, the muzzle still a little warm because of the bullet that popped out a few seconds ago. A click sounds as he reloads another bullet. “And you’ll realize that you’ve been drowning.. and if there’s no one to reach out their hand...” she squeezed her eyes shut as she remained silent for a second and another tear escaped the corner of her eye.

Multiple gunshots sounded through the hallway of the school as the gun, which the shooter was holding against her head fell down to the ground together with the body of the shooter.

A gasp left her mouth as the bullets whooshed along her ears. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the body of the shooter lying behind her on his back. Lifeless.

Everything that was happening was moving in slow motion. When she looked in front of her she could see multiple swat soldiers entering the hallway with their guns pointed towards the man behind her.

“Suspect is down” one of the soldiers said into their radio’s as they made their way towards (Y/n) and the shooter.

With two paramedics following the soldiers, the paramedics kneeled down next to the female teacher which (Y/n) tried to save her life. The paramedics put down their medic bags beside them and zipped the bag open as they grabbed some gauze.

“You can let go now. We’ve got her.” the male paramedic said as he tried to get her attention by putting his hand onto her shoulder. (Y/n) was still in shock. How did she survive this? Why didn’t he just shoot her when he had the chance? Why listen to her words?

“Sorry” she said as she got back to earth. She slowly retreated her hands back to her own body as the paramedic quickly pressed the gauze down onto the wound. (Y/n) slightly flinched as she felt a hand curling around her bicep, pulling her up to her feet and escorting her down the hall to the open world. She let them. She was too shaken up to try and fight or ask questions.

______

“Hi this is (Y/n)’s phone, please leave a message after the tone!” Her voice sounded through the speaker of Evan’s phone as he ended the call before the tone could ring into his ear.

A sigh leaves Evan’s mouth as he continues to send her a text, asking her to call him back when she can.

Hen walks into the kitchen when a frown morphed onto her face. “Hey you okay?” She asked when she noticed Evan’s slightly worried face that was focussed on his phone.

Evan clicks on the send button as he slips his phone back into his pocket, and he curls his fingers around the glass of water he had made.

“I’m fine..” he sighs as he leans with his forearms onto the kitchen counter. “I have just tried to call (Y/n) multiple times but she doesn’t answer. Normally she would’ve called me back by now”

They called everyday, especially when Evan was on shift. She would call him after school had come to an end and all kids had left the classroom.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Evan laughed at himself as he shook his head. He sounded like he was going insane. As if he couldn’t live without her. But it was a routine, so when that routine gets interrupted, it feels weird.

Normally Evan was the one to not pick up, when he was on a call. But he always called her back when they were back at the firehouse. Sometimes it could take hours, but it could also be minutes. It depended on the call of course.

“No not at all.. I’m sure she will call you back, maybe she’s talking to a parent or she’s just busy.” Hen touches Evan’s upper arm as she tries to reassure him that his wife is okay.

“Yeah, you’re right..” Evan pushed himself off the kitchen counter, he grabbed his glass and walked towards the sofas. “Maybe I’m being a little bit paranoid, she’s fine..” Evan glances at Hen who gives him a nod and a pat on his shoulder.

“Turn the volume up” Eddie says as Chimney grabs the remote and quickly turns up the volume by pressing down on the button.

“We just confirmed that about two hours ago, there has been a school shooting here in Los Angeles. The remarkable thing is that the school where this happened, was an elementary school”

“Jesus” Eddie sighs.

“The police have confirmed that after about an hour and a half after the shooter had fired the first bullet, they shot down the shooter. The name of the school where this happened is the Great Oak Elementary School. Parents are arriving at the school now to pick up their kids. There’s one wounded teacher and two casualties, both were working at the school.”

“That’s horrible. Imagine you see this on the news and you have to pick up your traumatized child.” Hen says as she continues to listen to the tv.

“Can’t imagine what that must feel like” Eddie’s voice sounds through the room.

Evan was intensely thinking. Why was that name so familiar? What was it about that school that made him think that he had a connection to it? He didn’t have any kids, at least not yet. “Wait what school did they say?” Evan double checked the name with his team, to see if he heard them correctly.

“I think it was Great Oak Elementary School” Chimney says as he focuses again onto the television screen.

Evan’s heart dropped in his chest. As soon as he heard that name fall off the lips of his colleague's mouth, it felt like all of the air he had in his lungs was getting pushed out. Everything's coming together now.

It was the school his wife worked for.

“But why even an elementary school, not that any school would’ve been any better or different. But we’re talking about ages 5 to 10 years old. Those children are going to be scarred for life” Eddie’s dull voice sounded over the loft into Evan’s ears.

No texts, no calls, nothing.

Evan’s hearing is dull, everything is still continuing on the back of his mind but his brain is working over hours now. Making up all different kinds of scenarios of what could’ve happened in that school. “Wow Buck, you alright?” Another dull voice rang through his ears.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched at the sudden touch and his eyes connected with Hen’s as he turned his head towards her. A frightened look was spread over his face as he tried to control his breathing.

He looked down to his feet, which were suddenly wet and cold. He realizes he had dropped his glass of water down to the ground. His boots are now soaking wet, with the water dripping down his pipes. But that was the last thing he was worried about right now.

His brain filled with all different kinds of scenarios were running through his mind. “(Y/n)” he mumbled through his panicked breaths as he tried to look at Hen, who was still pressing her hand onto his shoulder while her other hand was curled around his upper arm.

“Oh no..” Hen said as he puzzled the pieces together. Finally realizing what was happening and what Evan meant.

Bobby’s voice sounded through the space as he stepped onto the loft “What’s happening?”

“There has been a school shooting at Great Oaks Elementary. The school where Buck’s wife works” Hen quickly explained to Bobby as she held her grip onto Evan’s upper arm.

Evan’s eyes that were full of worry wandered towards his captain's eyes who was coming closer towards him every second. “She isn’t answering any of my calls or texts. And I’m not waiting for the hospital to call me and tell me that she’s..” Evan sighs at the worst case scenario that was in his mind.

“Please Bobby. I need to go. I need to see for myself if she’s okay.” Evan’s broken voice sounded.

“Look Buck, I get it. But you don’t have to do this on your own. We’re coming with you, whether you like it or not. (Y/n) is our family too.” Bobby says as he softly squeezed Evan’s shoulder. A small smile spread across Evan’s face as those words left Bobby’s mouth.

“Let’s go and find (Y/n)” Bobby says as he patted his hand onto Evan’s shoulder as a sign to go.

-

“What do you mean she isn’t here?” Evan says after Athena finished her conclusion. “I just told you, every teacher that was here on school grounds during the shooting has been checked by paramedics, and are now sitting in a room. They’re getting the information they need if they want help. But I’ve seen every teacher in that room, and she wasn’t there Buck, only her teaching assistant Katy.” Athena continues her explanation.

“Well, have you asked Katy if she knows anything about the whereabouts of my wife?” Evan asks, maybe a little annoyed. “No, not yet. I’m waiting for the professionals to finish their job. And after that, I’ll see if Katy is willing to talk” She calmly answers Evan’s question.

“How long is that gonna take?” Evan sighs as he puts his hands on his hips. He’s losing his patience. This is taking too long. “I’m sure they’re almost done, this should only take a few more minutes” Athena reassured him.

“I don’t have time for this.. what if Katy doesn’t know where she is? This might lead to a dead end.” Evan tries to stop himself from panicking, as he rushes a hand through his short curly hair. He had to do something. He couldn’t just stand there and wait on a teaching assistant who maybe doesn't have an answer to their questions.

Evan quickly turned around and slid his phone out of his pocket. He had to try it, at least one more time. He clicks on the green icon and clicks on her name, impatiently he presses the phone against his ear. Maybe she did have it with her.. right?

“Buck..” Evan could hear Bobby sigh as he was walking away from his team.

Evan listens to the sound of the phone beeping, trying to connect with the other phone. He was pacing through one of the hallways, silently listening to the beeps of the phone. Evan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he could hear a ringtone going off from a distance. Was that someone else’s phone or was that the phone he was trying to reach?

The ringtone stopped playing when Evan was being sent to voicemail. He quickly presses the red button, and decides to try and call the phone again.

Once more the same ringtone sounds through the hallway.

Evan follows the sound, making his way through the hallways until after multiple times of calling her phone, he reaches the door of a classroom. The tone sounded loudly through the space of the room.

Evan stepped into the classroom and walked towards the desk where the phone was buzzing. “There you are..” Evan whispered to himself as he grabbed the phone and frowned at the idea of his wife leaving her phone behind. She never leaves her phone behind.

He shoved his own phone into his pocket as he made his way back towards his team who were now talking with a young woman, probably Katy.

“Can we please ask you a few questions?” Evan could hear Athena ask the TA, who nodded at her question. “When was the last time you saw (Y/n)?” Athena continued to ask her. “During the shooting, we were all hiding inside the classroom just like protocol said. And she told me to watch the kids.. she went to help the lady who was shot outside of our classroom. I heard multiple gunshots, when I was alone with the kids. But I haven’t seen her since she told me to watch them.” Katy explains.

Evan could feel his knees trembling, like they were suddenly turning into Jell-o.

“That’s everything I know” Katy says as she shrugs her shoulders. “It’s okay, thank you Katy. If something pops into your mind, give me a call” Athena says as she gives Katy her card with her contact details and Katy walks away.

“Alright, there’s two things we can do. One, we go to the hospital and check if she may be in the ER. Or two, we go check the..-” Athena gets cut off by Evan’s voice.

“Morgue” Evan finished Athena’s sentence and shook his head. “We’re going to the ER of the nearest hospital, she’s not dead. She can’t be.” Evan continued. “Buck.” Bobby’s voice spoke up when Evan wiped his hand against his forehead, as if it helped him to get rid of the thought of his wife being dead. “I refuse to believe that she’s dead, I want to go to the hospital” Evan states as he could hear his own voice trembling.

Evan felt Bobby’s hand landing onto his shoulder. “It’s your decision to make Buck, if you want to go to the hospital, we go to the hospital” Bobby said as he looked into Evan’s eyes again. Evan nodded. He made his decision.

The drive towards the nearest hospital was silent, but when the truck pulled to a stop Evan’s hand reached for the door and he jumped out as fast as he could.

He had waited long enough. He needed his answers now.

Before the rest of his team got out of the truck, Evan had already gone through the glass doors. Evan came to a stop at the nurse station, using his hands as a brake by pressing it against the desk.

“Hi, I’m looking for (Y/n) Buckley” he panted as he focussed on the nurse who was scrolling through the documents of people who had gotten in.

“Evan?” her familiar voice sounds through his ears. His eyes went wide as he heard that voice he had hoped to hear through the phone the first time he called her. He pushed himself off the desk he was leaning on and followed her voice.

“(Y/n)?” he softly said as he looked around him. When his eyes connected with hers, his heart skipped a beat. She was alive. Just like he said.

“Evan” she sighed as she finally saw her husband's face. Evan basically sprinted towards (Y/n) as he heard her broken voice say his name. Her knees were trembling, and were on the edge of giving in. “Hey! Hey! I’m here!” Evan panted as he curled his arms around his wife and she collapsed into his arms.

She was sobbing as soon as she felt his arms curled around her body and she tightened her grip around his body, like he was the only thing to keep her from drowning. He was the hand she had to hold onto. “I’m here” Evan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding this entire time.

He let his hand cup the back of her head and he pressed his lips against her hair.

He slowly pulled back, but his arms remained around her body. He wasn’t letting her go. The hand he had pressed against the back of her head, wandered to her cheek as he wiped away her tears.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you hurt?” he stumbled as he quickly checked her on any wounds. She shook her head as she placed both of her hands down onto his chest. “No, I’m okay” she gasped through her tears.

When Evan’s eyes fell onto her hands, which were now placed on his chest, he noticed her hands which were still covered in dried blood.

He placed his hands over hers as he softly grabbed her hand and started inspecting it. “It isn’t mine” she sighed as she tried to reconnect her eyes with Evan’s, who was focussed on making sure his wife wasn’t hurt.

“Then whose blood is that?” Evan’s voice asked, concerned when his eyes remained on her hands. “T-the woman who had been shot..” she said as she tried to catch her breath. Evan’s eyes furrowed “I helped her..” in the middle of her sentence, she stopped talking. “I kept her alive, even with a gun pointed at my head” she continued.

She could hear the gunshots going off in the back of her mind, the explanation she had just given her husband brought her right back to that place. So much has happened in those few minutes, she barely had time to process everything that happened in such a short time.

Tears were streaming down her face as she was reminded of the incident. “He wanted to shoot me in the head”

“Oh baby..” a loud sigh left his lips as he pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “You did so good” he mumbled against her forehead as he pressed another kiss onto it and pulled his wife back into an embrace.

“I was so scared Evan, I really thought this is it.. that everything I did, was for the last time” (Y/n) sobbed as she locked her arms around his body once again and her head pressed against his broad chest. “But you fought like hell, like I knew you would. You fought for that woman, for the students, yourself and me. You fought your way back to me.” Evan said as he pulled away a little, so her head wouldn’t be touching his chest anymore and he could place both his hands onto her cheeks.

“You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”

______

A gasp fell off (Y/n)’s lips as a gunshot roared through the back of her mind. Her eyes were suddenly wide open and her entire body was drenched in sweat. She let her hands fall against her face as she sighed. It was just another dream, a nightmare to be more specific.

It had been weeks since the shooting on the Great Oak Elementary School, but what happened that day, was still haunting her until today.

Falling asleep was a problem at first, the first nights after the incident, she was all wrapped around Evan. Trying to get her to sleep like she was a baby that couldn’t find the right spot to sleep on.

Evan worked twenty four hour shifts, he couldn’t just go home in the middle of shift, in the middle of the night to help his wife to fall asleep at night. So sometimes, (Y/n) wouldn’t sleep at all at night, she would just wait until he came home and the second Evan was home she would doze off.

But now, it’s the constant nightmares she had. Every dream she had wasn’t the same, it’s not like she had the same nightmare over and over again on loop. No, she was having different kinds of scenario’s everytime she closed her eyes.

She let her hands fall down onto the mattress as she glanced at Evan who was peacefully asleep on his side of the bed. (Y/n) threw off the blanket and swung her feet over the side of the bed and grasped the first hoodie she saw lying down on the floor. The hoodie was a little oversized and fell over her bum.

(Y/n) stepped down the stairs of the loft and flicked on the kettle to make some tea. Maybe that would help her calm down. With her back towards the living room, she pressed her elbows down onto the flat surface of the kitchen counter.

She was tired, but couldn’t sleep. Not if she was having these nightmares, everytime she closed her eyes. (Y/n) let her head rest between her hands as she closes her eyes for a second, just to try and let the stress exit her body while the water was boiling.

Evan groaned as he turned around in bed and let his arm find the body of his wife. When his arm connected with the jumpy mattress, he pushed his head off the pillow as a confused frown was spread across his face. He wasn't expecting his arm to find the mattress, he was waiting for his arm to connect with (Y/n)’s body.

He lets his arm swipe along the mattress again to make sure she wasn’t somewhere else on the mattress. Evan turns his body and reaches out to turn on the night lamp on his nightstand. He squeezed his eyes as he tried to adjust his eyes to the bright light on his nightstand and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Evan swung his legs over the side of the bed as he stood up to make his way downstairs, determined to find his wife. When he silently stepped down the stairs, he smiled at the way she was standing. A Los Angeles Fire Department hoodie to keep her comfortable, her eyes closed as she was leaning on her hands. While the kettle was releasing steam as it was finished boiling.

A groan left her lips as she felt a hand curled around her hip and his chin was leaning on her shoulder. Her hand reached behind her as she tried to find Evan’s arm. “Can’t sleep?” his sleepy voice asked, with his eyes still closed as he was still trying to wake up.

“Yeah” she whispered as she nodded at his question, and she placed her other hand down on his cheek as he was still leaning with his chin onto her shoulder.

“Still having those nightmares huh?” He asked her as he pressed a kiss on the palm of her hand that was resting on his face.

“Yeah, what’s new..” she sighed, she had the feeling those nightmares weren’t going away anytime soon anyways. She grabbed a cup from the upper cabinet, placed it onto the counter and started to pour water from the kettle into it.

When the cup was full enough, she placed the kettle back. “Evan?” Her soft voice sounded raspy.

“Hmm?” Evan hummed as he slightly opened his eyes to check on his wife. His arm was still wrapped around her, curved around her hip. She swallowed loudly.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..” she whispered as she placed both of her hands flat against the counter as she stared right in front of her.

Evan’s hand started to come loose from her hip, as he let his lower back fall against the kitchen island, which was placed on the other side of the kitchen counter (Y/n) was making her tea on.

He folded his arms over each other as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets. “You mean the nightmares, right?” Evan needed a confirmation that he knew she was talking about.

She felt Evan leaving her side. But she couldn’t look at him without breaking down. So she remained standing with her back towards Evan. “No.. I meant, being a teacher.” She said as she started to make circles with her finger onto the kitchen counter.

“What? What do you mean? You love being a teacher” Evan said as he tried to make eye contact again. But she wouldn’t turn around.

She shook her head as she sighed, trying to keep her tears from falling down. “That was before this all happened. You know how exhausting it is to be wary of every single thing around you?” she sniffled as she turned her face towards the ceiling, trying everything in her power to not show her tears, or show her fear.

With her sleeves falling over her hands, she wiped the small tears away that had started rolling down her cheeks. “Every time before I even enter the school my throat goes dry, I start sweating and I can’t stop myself from shaking” she tried to say through her tears and sobs.

She turned her body, and let herself slide against the kitchen doors, dropping to the ground as she cried even harder. “I’m sick and tired of flinching at every sudden sound I hear. I can’t sleep, because any time when I close my eyes, even if it’s just for one silly second, I’m there again. With a gun against my head.” she confessed.

(Y/n) let the back of her head lean against the kitchen cabinet as she felt Evan coming closer, while she looked at the ceiling again. Trying to get rid of the tears that showed her biggest fears and weaknesses. “I can’t do this anymore Evan” she sobbed as she pressed her palms against her face. All she wanted to do was hide.

It feels like she’s drowning, drowning into her own fear and tears. The fear is over taking her like waves of the ocean, if no one would reach out that hand to help her.. she might drown.

“No.. you’re scared. And I get your reaction, but we don’t always make the best decisions when we’re operating out of fear” Evan spoke up as he curled his arm around her knee.

A sigh leaves Evan’s mouth as he tries to think of the right thing to say. “I know how hard it is to get over something so traumatizing, that you don’t know what you’re doing it for no more” he said as he tightened his arm around her knee. “But what happened could have happened anywhere. At the grocery store, in our own home, hell even at the fire station” Evan continued as he tried to get her attention, but she was too emotional to make eye contact.

She could hear every word he said, every breath he took, every moment of silence he needed, to think of what he was going to say next.

“So I need you to stop saying that you can’t do this. Because I know you can. You’re one of the strongest women I know. And I’m so proud to call you my wife. But right now, I need you to grab my hand and trust me when I say that we’ll figure this out.” tears were starting to well in Evan’s eyes as he quickly wiped his finger underneath his eyes to get rid of the tears he felt, as they were about to roll over his cheeks.

Evan loosened his grip around her knee as he reached out his hand, with his palm faced towards the ceiling. “We do this together, just like we did all the times I got hurt and didn’t know what to do” Evan said as he lowered his head, trying to get her eyes connected with him again.

Silence took over the space they were in.

Evan’s hand was still dangling between her knees as he waited for her attention and answer. “Together?” he asked one more time.

A soft smile made its way onto her face, as she nodded. “Together.” she said determined and placed her hand onto his as Evan sent her a small smile her way.

She had helped him countless times, now it was his turn to help her.

[sp0o0kylights]

Bullshit.

The word rings obnoxiously in Steve’s ears as he pushes his way out back, not wanting to be anymore of a talking piece at this party than he already was.

He’d just wanted Nancy to stop drinking, take a second, pace herself…

Steve swipes furiously at his eyes, and then curses when it nearly causes him to run into Chrissy Cunnginham, who’s perched in a chair tucked away from the patio door.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, trying not to sound like he’s upset, trying to keep his cool--only for her to look up and away, brushing off her own tears.

“Oh.” Steve says, a little laugh bubbling out of him. “You too huh?”

Thankfully she correctly interprets that he's not laughing at her, and adds her own giggle to the mix, the sound gentle even if pitched in upset.

"Boy problems?" Steve asks her, sinking down to the vacant chair on Chrissy's right.

She nods, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Girl problems?" She asks back, and he grimaces a smile.

They sit for a minute, Steve pulling out a cigarette and offering it to her before lighting up. Chrissy shakes her head, and though her nose curls a little at the smoke she doesn’t say anything.

Neither of them do, staring at the few people bringing the party outside in the way only drunk teenagers can.

"Can I tell you something?" Chrissy says finally, as Steve continues to struggle to keep himself breathing evenly (and not spiraling. He still has to go back and try and escort Nancy home, and he needs to keep his temper when he does it.)

She licks her lips. "I keep trying to break up with Jason, but he won't let me."

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do he leans himself towards chrissy in concern. “What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He’s not--it’s not…”She trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “He talks me out of it is all.”

She’s downplaying it, and Steve’s concern grows tenfold. “Does he argue with you or just…tells you no or something?”

"It's complicated." Chrissy says, refusing to look at him. "He has this vision for me, for us."

Steve watches as she worries at a hangnail.

Feels the need to reach out and take her hand, but keeps his own hands to himself.

If Steve has learned anything, it's that not everyone wants to be touched as much as he does.

"He keeps telling me I'm just being anxious. That I should trust him, and I do, he just expects me to always do what he says? And more and more lately I--"

She huddles down into the little cat costume she's wearing, pulling the thin black sweater around her. "I want different things than he does."

Steve wonders vaguely if Nancy wants different things.

Or a different person entirely.

"That's not fair to you." Steve says, leaning forward and lowering his own voice. "He can't keep you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

A hard thing for him to say, after the bathroom conversation but this is different.

‘Please, let this be different.’ He thinks, before pushing the thought aside.

"He can't force you to do what he wants just because he wants it, or thinks its best. He should be listening to you and what you want too. Relationships are about…compromise right?” It’s what he’s heard anyway, though most of the time “compromise” means “letting the other person get what they want.”

Which is what he thought he’d been doing for Nancy all this time.

“I can help you if you want. Be your," Steve poorly mimes waving a pom pom. "cheer support."

Chrissy looks at him, eyes still wet. "You would?"

"Of course.” He says, before scooting just a smidgen closer. “Might have to ask you to return the favor though. Nancy said some things tonight and I could really use a second--”

A loud curse makes them both startle, interrupting Steve.

Together, they look around before another noise, like bark being scraped, draws both their attention to the large oak that stands in the backyard.”

"Is…is that Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks.

"I think so."

Chrissy squints a little, as if not quite believing what she's seeing. "Is…he stuck in a tree?"

Steve finds himself staring in his own disbelief, hands moving to his hips as he watches Munsons wriggling, cursing form.

"I think so." He repeats with a shake of his head.

Eddie's foot slips off a branch, once, twice.

"Hey--" Steve calls out in warning, but unfortunately it comes too late.

The branch under his foot gives away with a startling crack! as another branch shreds Munson's jacket as his full weight caches on it.

"Oh!" Chrissy gasps, hand flying to her mouth as Eddie falls right onto his ass with a yelp.

"You good man?" Steve asks, rising from his chair, hesitant to go over but needing to make sure the idiot hasn't cracked his skull open.

Chrissy has no such qualms, popping up to run over to Munson.

"You're bleeding." She tells him worriedly, dropping to her knees to get a better look.

"Well shit." Munson says with a wonky grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Chrissy asks, as Steve’s newly honed babysitting instincts kick in and drive him to get up and look at Munson’s injury himself.

Chrissy carefully strokes the older teen’s hair out of his face, as Steve bends down to check his head and neck.

"You hurt anywhere?" He asks, spotting the scratch that had Chrissy worried.

It’s on his forehead--the guy must have knocked his face against the tree when he fell. Head injuries always bleed a ton but this one's well contained to a small scrape.

Probably not a concern, though Steve looks at his pupils anyways.

"Nah, I’m pine. I didn't mean to drop in on you guys.” He waves a hand behind him before dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that tree, it was pretty shady.”

Steve, long trained by Dustin, narrows his eyes. "Are you making puns right now?"

"Maybe?" Munson hedges, looking delighted to have been called out.

“Uh huh.” Steve puts his hands back on his hips, straightening up from where he’d crouched down. “Your head okay? You remember your name and shit?”

“Edward Edwardian Munson, present and ready for duty!” He gives a mock salute, before dropping Chrissy a wink. “If the duty is drinking and playing games that is.”

“Your middle name cannot be Edwardian.” Chrissy laughs.

"It is!" He defends, at the same time Steve says,

“It's not "

“Oh?” Munson challenges, as if this entire situation isn’t ridiculous. “Then what is my middle name, Sir Steven?”

“No idea, but I know it’s not that.”

Munson blows a raspberry at him. “Well then, maybe you should mind your own beeswax."

"Like you were doing? Up in the tree right above us?" Steve banters back.

The playful look dies a little, Munson beginning the painful process of standing after one falls.

"For the record, I absolutely was not eavesdropping, you guys just happened to be under the tree I climbed and I was there first. " He says it rapidly, like he's used to being accused of such things, and is heading off as many problems as he can.

Steve just ignores it, opting instead to hold his hands out. One to Chrissy and one to Eddie.

Watches surprise cross the older teens face, even as he waits for Chrissy to get up before accepting Steve's hand.

"Why were you up a tree? The family dog run you up there?" Steve grunts as he pulls the metalhead up.

"Funny." Munson quipped sarcastically. "But no. I was up there for reasons."

'Reasons.' Steve mouths, and has to fight himself to keep from grinning.

"Even though I was there first, I did happen to hear some things." He looks at Chrissy, voice turning serious. "If you need any help getting things through Carver's thick skull I'd love to lend a hand."

"You would cheer for me too?"

"Oh absolutely. I'd make a far better cheerleader than Harrington here." He shoots a grin towards Steve to take the edge off the words, before doing a far more enthusiastic mimicry of the cheerleaders pom pom routine.

"But I know how much Carver hates the word no. If you break up with him and he gives you shit after, I'm happy to step in."

Steve hadn't actually thought about that yet, but given what he knew of Jason it makes sense.

He could easily see Chrissy worrying about Jason harassing her after the break up.

"Thank you. Both of you." She sniffs. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Right as rain!" Munson gives a rather theatrical thumbs up. "I'll let you in on a family secret, we Munson's have rubber bones."

She gives him another giggle for his efforts, and even Steve can’t fully cover his

Munson, the ass, notices.

“Well call me the court jester, I got both the King and Queen to smile!” He cheers.

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

"Chrissy!?" Someone barks, loud in the otherwise quiet backyard.

"Speak of the devil." Eddie drops his voice dramatically as Jason strides out of the house.

"I've been looking for you." He chides, two of his friends following close behind.

They're younger members of the basketball team, ones Steve's brain sluggishly attempts to remember.

"Are your knees dirty?" Jason asks Chrissy, disgust tinting his voice as he slowly looks from her to Munson next to her.

His eyes narrow, expression almost offronted.

"You heathen." Jason snarls, stepping forward with a fist clenched.

It was a move right of the sitcoms Steve swore he didn't watch, and it looked just as cheesy in real life as it did on screen.

"Calm down." Steve speaks up, hands going to his hips.

Jason's head jerks as he registers him, so focused on Munson that Steve slipped his notice entirely.

"Harrington?" He asks, as if Steve could be mistaken for anyone else here.

Steve gives him jazz hands in return.

"What are you doing out here?" Jason speaks only to Steve, whole body angling towards him like he's the only person who matters.

It's something Steve's dad does, if there's a businessman he considers to be an equal in the room. Zoning in on them, so he can subtly work in ways to make them feel inferior.

It's narcissism at its core (or so says his mother, when she's blitzed out on too many glasses of wine.)

"Talking to people." Steve deadpans. "If you're looking for beer, you walked past it."

Jason entire face pinches, like he just stepped in dog shit. "No one just talks to Munson."

It's a stupid thing to say, and whatever Hason was trying to imply with it wasn't appreciated.

"Well mark me as the first." Steve's hip cocks, voice frosting over.

Surprise washes across Munson's face, though he remains silent as Steve deals with Jason.

Probably a smart move, given how Jason seems to be eager for a fight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, you can leave Chrissy out of it." He says, and god his voice even sounds like Steve's dad.

"Chrissy," Steve says, with an eyebrow raise he knows looks judgemental, "can speak for herself."

He turns to face her, inviting her to the conversation, in the same way he'd always wished someone would invite his mother to speak against his father.

Watches as the cheerleader bites her lip, trying hard to hide the tears that have sprung to her eyes--but proves that she's stronger than Steve's mother ever was.

She steps forward, taking the opportunity offered to her with a steadying breath. "Jason--"

"You can explain it to me later." Her boyfriend waves her off, like she was a waitress offering water and not his partner.

Uncaring entirely that she's clearly upset.

That she wants to talk.

Munson has come to stand on Chrissy's other side, gone still in a way Steve's never seen him do.

It's downright weird for a guy who's normally always moving, and Steve knows it's defensive.

He's feeling a little defensive himself right now, though he doesn't want to particularly untangle why.

"Jason, listen to me." Chrissy tries again.

In his preffery vision, Steve spots a flash of familiar color. Turns his head automatically, seeking it out--and sees Jonathan hustling Nancy across the room.

The younger man is trying to balance Nancy while opening the front door, and for a second Steve almost beelines for them, except--

Except.

Nancy's whole body moves in what Steve intimately knows is an exhale, leaning her head in the crook of Jonathan's shoulder.

One arm wraps around his waist, as Jonathan finally gets the door open, and Steve watches with a stunned sort of horror as his girlfriend presses a kiss to Jonathan's shoulder.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Nancy was just--drunk. Seeking comfort. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't--

"Oh shit Harrington." Jason drawls, a lazy sort of taunt. "I think Byers just stole your girlfriend."

Steve's head snaps back to him, the emotions he was attempting to box up flying to the front of his brain like dogs who slipped their leash.

"Never thought a priss like Nancy would be easy like that, but then, you never were the kind of guy to inspire loyalty." Jason continues, clearly ignoring his own girlfriend and all Steve can see is red.

Munson sucks air between his teeth next to him, nervously eyeing Steve while Chrissy's eyes have gone wide with shock and growing anger.

"Jason!" She admonishes, but he's not even looking towards her.

That too sharp smile is all for Steve.

He thinks of Nancy, the way she'd been so angry with him but so gentle with Jonathan.

He thinks of the monster he faced down in the Byers house, the terror that had shrank down to that same adrenaline soaked focus he had on the basketball court.

He thinks of this asshole Junior in front of him.

Making Chrissy cry just because she'd been kind enough to try to help Eddie, and accept Eddie's kindness in return when the weirdo tried to help her and Steve both.

Steve taps his foot, then switches his stance.

'Plant your feet.' Hargroves voice snarls in his memory and Steve wouldn't be surprised if the asshole abandons the keg long enough to come watch this.

Have his turn at heckling, just because he can.

Steve plants his feet anyway.

"You know what Carver?" He says, hands dropping from his hips.

Jason's face curves into a smile. "What?" He says, tone smarmy.

"You're full of shit."

Hand cocking back of its own accord, Steve puts every bit of himself into his punch.

Feels it reverberate up his arm as his knuckles connect to Jason's cheek.

It's going to hurt later, but right now all he can do is stand over Jason as the asshole's head snaps sideways, legs staggering him backwards until he's falling into his friends.

Chrissy gasps, Jason's boys chanting variations of 'Oh shit!'

Steve just glares him down.

The junior wipes his bloodied mouth, letting his friends push him up before shrugging them off.

"You're going to regret that." Jason snarls, and Steve squares up a second time, expecting to be rushed, when the sharp snickt! of a switchblade freezes them both.

"I think we're done here." Munson says, knife in hand.

The blade he holds is stained a deep, russet red. Crusty flakes fall off it, drifting gently down to the patio floor.

Jason's eyes boggle at it for a moment before he stands up straight.

"Now it makes sense. You're weak, Harrington, letting the Freak get his claws into you." Jason spits bloodstained saliva down at Eddie's feet. "No wonder Coach wants Billy as co-captain!"

Steve just scoffs.

"Chrissy!" Carver barks, making the poor girl jump. "Come here, we're leaving!"

Trembling, but stepping closer to Steve, she shakes her head.

"Chrissy." Jason orders again, and has the audacity to point to his feet, like a man commanding his dog.

"No." Chrissy says it quietly at first, voice a little shaky, before she seems to realize it.

She stands taller, repeats herself in a stronger voice. "No, Jason. We're done."

Jason stares at her, hard. "Chrissy, your mother told me to bring you home. So I'm going to take you home and get you away from this--demon and his lackey!"

It doesn't sound loving.

It sounds like a threat.

He steps forward, hand out to grab her arm and Steve tenses, shifting to step in front of Chrissy.

Eddie beats him there.

The word demon seems to awaken something in him, because his face is now grinning theatrically, voice dipping low in pitch.

"You heard her, Carver. She said no, and even I respect a lady's wish. So run along now," he walks two fingers in the air, from the hand not waving the knife around. "before I decide to make you and her both one of mine, just as I did Harrington!"

Jason actually crosses himself, before making one last attempt for Chrissy.

"That monster is dangerous. if you don't come with me, I'll have to alert your parents." He locks eyes with her. "For the good of your soul."

Steve snorts at that crock of shit, but Eddie lunges forward, slashing the knife in the air.

It's nowhere near Jason, but the guy leaps a foot back anyway.

"Begone!" Eddie booms, and that's all it takes for Jason and his cronies to huff and puff and stride away.

He keeps his arms in the air for a few beats more, before dropping them when it's clear Jason won't be back.

"So I'm yours, huh?" Steve drawls, as Eddie finally puts his hands down and turns to face them.

The guys scary face drops into something almost excited, and Steve can practically see the adrenaline crackling through him.

"Hey it worked. Carver's a religious nut, he goes running anytime you even hint at Satan." Eddie shrugs, grinning wildly. "Put on a little show and poof! Him and his flying monkeys melt away!"

He mimes melting and Steve stares at him for it, until he hears Chrissy laughing next to him.

Eddie grins at her and Steve is hit with the realization that it was for her benefit. To make her feel better about her psycho ex.

Something fond and familiar winds through his chest as the other boy bows.

He refuses to put a name to it.

"Did you paint your knife?" He asks instead, rubbing the hand he hit Jason with.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled out of his court jester act.

Steve nods to his hand holding the switchblade. "That's not blood, it's way too red."

"Ah." Eddie turns the grin back on, and this time it's for Steve. "Yeah, it's uh. Modeling paint. Not like Carver would know the difference."

Unspoken was the fact that he hadn't thought Steve would.

Prior to last year, he'd have been right.

Drunken cheering erupts into wild yells inside, breaking whatever spell the three of them were under.

Hargrove's voice is the loudest among them, and the dude is definitely wasted.

Steve has a feeling Hargrove also knows the difference between paint and blood, rendering Munson's knife trick useless if the dick tried to start something.

"Do you want a ride home, Chrissy?" He asks quietly.

"If it's not a bother." She says, wiping tears shed refused to let fall from her eyes.

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for.

"Come on, Munson, I think it's time we all make our exit." Steve says, finding himself weirdly unwilling to leave the older teen behind.

Eddie could hold his own, but given how badly things were playing out Steve figured it was best if they all just called it a day.

"Yeah lemme just…" Munson puts his blade away, fumbling at his pockets for a moment before turning and snatching up a metal lunchbox.

"There! After you, my liege." He says, before opening the lunchbox to make it talk.

"My lady." He makes it say, pitching his voice high.

Chrissy breaks into giggles again and Steve rolls his eyes, but he claps his good hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walks past.

Eddie smiles at him, this one a bit softer than the others, eyes sparkling and Steve chooses not to read into that either.

The three of them walk together, Eddie splitting off to his van after Chrissy thanks him.

Part Two

[rumplereids]

hii!! i’ve read some of your docs and they are just awesome !!

i wanted to ask you if you could write a fic (paring Spencer x fem!Reader) about the BAU chasing the unsub and they manage to catch him, tough he did fire some shots that didn’t hurt anyone except reader but reader doesn’t realise it until she starts to feel dizzy and feels her shirt wet only to find a gun wound on her side, spencer is really worried etc etc.. you know an hurt/comfort !! :3

sorry for my bad english 😞😞

take your time !! :33

tags: spencer reid x fem!reader. hurt/comfort. reader gets shot. blood. reader using sexual jokes as a coping mechanism. a/n: unedited! set around season 12, bcos i just rewatched the s11 finale lol. i also took some creative liberties but i hope u still like this :) masterlist. requests are open !

There’s something Spencer always did before the team goes out to take down an unsub.

First, in the car, in the calm before a probable storm, he would take two fingers into the collar of your bulletproof vest. He’d tug on the back, checking the tightness of the straps while confined in the SUV’s backseat. And then, the same hand would run down your back. A comforting gesture that grounds him more than he’d admit. And lastly, he’d take your hand in his. Squeeze it three times in a silent ‘I love you’. He’ll wait for you to squeeze back, and your eyes would meet for a second, words unneeded as your gaze tells each other to take care.

It’s a routine done even before you officially got together. Tonight was different.

You were on the way back to the station after re-interviewing a witness with Rossi. You’re sat on the passenger seat, notepad in hand, attempting to arrange your thoughts on the case. A ringtone coming from the car speaker distracts you from your musings. Rossi reaches over to accept the call.

“Yeah, Hotch?”

“We found him. Garcia sent the location to your cells. You’re 20 minutes away from the address, but do not engage. Keep your distance and wait for the rest of us.” Hotch drops the call after you reply with an “On it, boss.” You flip a switch on the console, turning on the sirens.

“I still hate how loud these things are,” you make a passing comment.

Rossi spares you a glance, a bemused look in his eyes, “I haven’t gotten used to it either.”

You turn to reach for your vest behind the passenger seat. After putting it on, you triple check the straps. And then, you unholster your standard issue pistol, thumb on the catch, before you check your mag.

Rossi’s turning the corner while you holster your gun, reaching over, you turn off the siren. Based on the profile, this unsub will not hesitate to draw guns if met with law enforcement. Best not give him a heads up. A few blocks ahead, you see the bright neon sign of the motel the unsub is hiding in. Rossi shifts the SUV into a slow crawl. He stops a block away, a safe distance that still gave you a good vantage point of the motel. You keep a lookout, Rossi putting on his vest while your eyes pass over each entrance, exit, and window on the two-storey building. You notice movement on the first floor. A shadow behind a curtain on the second floor.

You’re starting to get antsy when the rest of the team, and the local cops arrive. You quickly open your door, walking toward where Hotch, Tara, and Spencer were huddled by the trunk of a precinct car.

“Are you attempting to negotiate?” Rossi asks from your side. Spencer’s eyes meet yours from where he’s hunched over a map. Embedding the floorplan into his mind. You watch his eyes rake over your body twice. Eyes running to each strap on your vest. Your heart warms at the gesture.

“He has hostages,” Hotch’s voice breaks your eye contact with Spencer. The sheriff walks toward your team, a megaphone in hand. Hotch thanks the sheriff, turns on the speaker, and begins to call out for the unsub.

“Bryan Masen! FBI! Come out with your hands above your head!”

You see the shadow shift on the second floor. And then, a loud bang. Bryan Masen has an assault rifle, shooting out of the windows of the motel lobby, while a second unsub shoots their own rifle from the second floor. In all the chaos of gunshots and screams, your mind rotates through three things; Is Spencer okay? A partner wasn’t in the profile. My ribs hurt. Is Spencer okay? A partner wasn’t in the profile. My ribs hurt. Where’s Spenc—

The following silence was deafening.

And then, a group of uniforms led by Hotch and JJ move in on the motel. You begin to stand, intending to join the second group of uniforms with Luke and Rossi. Subconsciously, your hand presses against your side. It’s warm. And wet. You take one step forward. Hear Spencer call out your name. And then, it all turns black.

Spencer’s hands won’t stop shaking. He stares at it. The red on his palms. It’s drying, and all he can do is stare blankly at it. His knee jerks. It won’t stop. He feels a hand on his shoulder. Heavy. Comforting. Unwanted. He hears Luke ask him if he needed anything. He can’t hear his own reply. Hunched over his bloodied hands, he sees the boots peeking between his fingers. Black. Leather. Heeled. JJ tries to get him to wash his hands. He feels hands guide him to a sink. That same hand on his shoulder leaving when smaller hands take his in their own. The water is cold between his fingers. The hand scrubbing his knuckles is warm. He can’t afford to look away. Can’t risk his eyes closing for more than a blink. He needed to be distracted by something. Knowing that if mind was preoccupied by any other menial thing, he won’t be forced to see your body falling onto the sandy ground. Over and over. The scream in his throat. The thud. The frantic hands. Red, red, red. Pale lips and eyes closed. Over and over.

He has half a mind to stop JJ from cleaning his hands. But then, the faucet turns off. Paper towels are pressed into his hands, and JJ guides him back to where the rest of the team are waiting. Their silence tells him that there hasn’t been anything new. He falls into a chair. Numbers. Statistics. That can help him focus on something else.

The number of GSWs treated per biennium increased from 1,349 in 1996-1997 to 1,484 in 2014-2015, with a 59% increase occurring from 2010-2011 to 2014-2015. Overall mortality was 14.6%—

An unfamiliar name calls out your name.

He stands before anyone else can react. Like a wolf descending on a prey, he begins a barrage of questions; “Where is she? Is she okay? Is she ali—”

“She alive and well. The shrapnel missed any major arteries, and we were able to take every fragment out. Major bruising around her ribs. She’s currently sedated, but you can come and see her.”

Spencer bites back an attempt to snap, wanting to raise his voice and demand that they bring him to her already. But he doubts you’d let him get away with such a behavior. And so he silently follows after the doctor, fists pressed against his sides, thumb popping a knuckle.

When he enters your room, it’s dimly lit. But he can see your face, and the bruise on your cheek from when you fell unconscious. His eyes take you in, every inch of you. The hair pulled behind your ears. The medical gown covering pallor skin. The tube connected to the crook of your elbow. He reaches a hand out, smoothing your hair, before taking a deep breath in. He remembers your comment about the smell of hospitals.

“I’ll stay with her,” he mumbles. Two fingers pushing down the collar of your hospital gown. You don’t like it when your clothes bunch up around your neck. His fingers subconsciously move to trace the side of your throat. Moving to feel the beat of your pulse beneath his fingertips.

“I’ll bring your bags back in an hour,” he nods once to acknowledge JJ’s words.

“Thank you,” he coughs away the lump in his throat. You’re alive. You’ll be awake in a few hours. You can go home by the end of the week. He forces himself to feel optimistic.

“Get some rest if you can, Reid,” Hotch speaks from where he’s standing nearest to the door.

He nods, opting not to say anything. Unable to make promises.

Your eyes are heavy when you come to. You can feel the crust on your lids. The cool of the AC against your cheek. Slowly, you open your eyes. There’s a painting of a grassy field on the wall in front of you. You turn your head. Spencer has his socked feet up on the armchair. Curling into himself to fit better. He has his focus on your copy of Pride and Prejudice. You can tell it’s yours by the sticky tabs peeking between the pages.

“Spence?” your voice is throaty and hoarse. Struggling to crawl out. He still hears it, anyway.

“Oh, baby,” he drops your book on the chair, moving to sit by your side. His forehead presses against yours, his hands cup your jaw. Spencer presses a kiss on the apple of your cheek.

“You scared me,” he confesses with a whisper.

“I’m okay now,” you bring a hand into his hair. He moves his kisses down to your jaw.

“I was so afraid of losing you.”

You take his kisses as he freely gives them. He hides his face into your neck, kissing where it meets your shoulder. You move your hand down to scratch where his hair ends before his nape. “You could never get rid of me,” you say with a small smile. He presses a kiss where your neck meets your ear.

Right hand on your cheek, left hand going down to grip the flesh below your scapula. Slender thumb and finger pinching the softness behind your armpit. He breathes in the scent of you. Your hand starts to massage the muscle where his neck and shoulder meet. You know that he feels heavy there whenever he gets stressed out. You want to crack a joke at how tense he is, but keep it in and choose to give him comfort instead.

“I love you,” his lips whisper against your skin.

You sigh, the sound making him look up to meet your eyes.

“I was so scared too,” it was your turn to confess.

“You’re okay. We’re both okay,” he moves his hands to take yours into his. You squeeze his hands thrice.

“I asked Hotch to give me time off while you’re on medical leave.”

“You did?”

He squeezes your hand back. Three times like you both always have, and always will.

“I also had to call your family,”

He watches you grimace, “How did they take it?” He gives you a slight wince of a smile.

You let out a sigh, “I’ll call them in a bit.”

“Your mom is taking a flight to Washington,” he informs you.

“That sucks. We won’t have the house to ourselves for at least a month.”

He raises a brow at you, “Why would it matter? You’re not allowed any strenuous activity for three.”

You give Spencer a little pout, chastised that he easily called you out, “That’s just mean.”

He gives you a withering look, “Behave.” He gives you one more kiss on the cheek, moving to stand from your bed. He has to tell the team you’re awake. Taking your phone from the end table, he begins to draft a text.

“I still have my hands, you know.”

He turns to you, caught off guard. Disbelief painting his features.

“You did not just say that,” he says.

You stick a tongue out.

“Stop it. You’re injured,” he says with a slight reprimand.

“So? That didn’t stop us when your knee got shot.”

His mouth falls open, “I can’t believe you.”

“Three months is just a recommendation. You would know.”

You grin at the blush that takes over his face.

taglist: @i-live-in-spite @khxna please feel free to send an ask to be added to my general taglist!

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Hello, would you consider writing a unit chief Emily Prentiss x R story? Where reader has nipple piercings and one day at the air conditioner at the BAU breaks so readers in a tank top so the outline of them is noticeable. And of course Derek is the first to notice so he loudly points it out which draws the teams attention to them, and let’s just say Emily very intrigued with them. You could right smut for it if you want to but if not that’s okay.

The Heatwave

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: choking, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, strap on, alcohol, piercings

“You can’t be serious. Thursday? In the middle of this heatwave? We’re going to die.”

Listening to Garcia complain to Morgan was not helping you concentrate on the report Emily wanted on her desk. You swiped the back of your wrist along your forehead, wiping away the sweat threatening to drip into your eye. Your hair was tied up, exposing the back of your neck, begging for a breeze to come along. You needed some sweet relief or you might collapse at your desk.

Summer was particularly brutal that year. You’d been sweating on your commute to and from the office, the air con the only thing keeping you going through the day. But yesterday there had been a weird noise, a shudder in the vents and the cold air had stopped. You weren’t you’d managed to dry out since.

Wiping more sweat away, you sighed. Your tank top was doing nothing to save you from the fires of hell licking at your skin. You groaned, head thunking against the desk.

“See? Brink of death already,” Garcia said, standing behind you.

“I’m not dead,” you said, muffled into the wood of your desk.

“Yet. I’m going to have to go flirt with the maintenance guy and he always stares because he knows that I am a prime woman that he can not keep up with,” she said.

“Of course you are, baby girl. Now go work that pretty face of yours,” Morgan said.

You sighed, sitting up again. It’s not as if you’d be getting any work done with them at your desk, and nor could you nap in the heat. Just the feeling of your skin was making you feel insane.

“When are they going to fix this damned thing?” Emily said, striding out of her office, file clutched in her hand. You felt your heart skip a beat. She was hotter than the heatwave you were going through, and even sweaty, she still made you catch your breath. It wasn’t fair how sexy she was when you were a gross mess.

“Thursday,” Garcia called over to her.

“Can’t we do something about that? she asked, striding over to the huddle that had sprung up at your desk.

“Do you want to flirt with the maintenance guy?” Garcia asked.

“The one with the lazy eye or the one who always smells like cheese?” she asked.

“That’s the same person and yes, that one,” she replied.

Emily shook her head, nose wrinkled. Garcia sighed, crossing her arms over her chest then immediately uncrossing them.

“Hey, what’s that on your chest?” Morgan asked, pointing.

You looked down, not able to see anything out the ordinary. You looked back up, finding him staring at your chest. Then it clicked. You knew he’d been too quiet, and you’d been so distracted by Emily that you hadn’t noticed.

“Are you staring at my tits?” you asked him.

“No,” he said, looking up to your eye, “yes.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest, much in the way Garcia had. It only pushed your tits up, making them more obvious. Garcia was openly looking, eyebrows drawing together until realisation dawned over her face. Emily’s eyes darted down then up to your face again, tongue darting out to drag along her bottom lip. The tension that had been stretching between the two of you for weeks was making you arch your back just a little, giving her a better view.

“Not that it’s anyone’s business,” you said, trying to not get flustered from the heat in Emily’s gaze, “but I have my nipples pierced.”

You lifted your chin, waiting for one of them to say something. A grin spread over Morgan’s face and you could already hear the comments. You glared, waiting for him to say something.

“The girls like that, huh?” he asked.

“They don’t hate it,” you replied.

You couldn’t bare to look at Emily. You might implode if you did. Her reaction could either make or break your ability to think around her. Although, you were hoping she was one of the girls who didn’t hate it.

“Now, if we’re done talking about my nipples, I believe Garcia has a maintenance man to flirt with so none of us die before Thursday,” you said.

You turned back to your computer, your report waiting for you. You did your best to continue working, feeling the weight of the three people standing behind you slow to move away. You were done talking about it in front of your boss, who happened to be the one person you thought about when your fingers were buried deep within you.

“Turns out flirting with Manny in maintenance did nothing. He’s called a guy from the air conditioning company to come fix it and wouldn’t give me his number so I could flirt with him,” Garcia said, stopping by your desk, “so pool party at Rossi’s tonight. You in?”

“Does he know you’re hosting a pool party at his place?” you asked.

“Of course,” she said, “bring your best bikini.”

It was a relief to change into your bikini after work. The cool brush of air on your skin before you pulled on a pair of shorts and loose t-shirt. The air con in your car was the only thing getting you through the drive, bare thighs sticking to the leather of the seat. You parked, staring up at the big house. You jumped when someone knocked on your window.

“Hey,” you said, stepping out of your car.

“So they roped you into this too, huh?” Emily said, closing the door for you, trapping you against the car. Your eyes flicked down her body, a tank top and jeans covering whatever swimsuit she had on. You hadn’t thought about the possibility of seeing her in one when you’d agreed to come.

“Are you kidding? Free pool and free drinks? Count me in,” you said.

She chuckled, those dark eyes sweeping over you. Your skin felt on fire and you couldn’t tell if it was from the heat wave or from the sexy woman in front of you.

“Earlier, at the office,” she said, that tongue you’d dreamt about dragging along her lower lip, “when you were talking about-“

“Are you two going to stand out there all night or are you going to come get wet?”

You jumped, back hitting the side of your car as you startled. Garcia was standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you like you’d both lost your minds. You laughed, trying to cover the dirty thoughts slipping through your mind at Garcia’s words.

“Come on,” you said.

You slipped past her, body brushing against hers. Her eyes were still trained on you, sweeping over your body, and you were trying your best not to read too much into it. You combed your fingers through your hair, pulling it up into a ponytail to get it off the sticky skin of your neck. With your back to her, you missed the way Emily watched you, eyes darkening and lips pulling up into a smirk.

You were quick to pick up an ice cold beer as you passed through the kitchen, plucking it from the cooler. Derek flung his arm over your shoulders, already dripping from the pool. You wrinkled your nose, shoving his arm off you.

“What took you so long?” Morgan asked, “changing into more pool appropriate jewellery?”

“You keep that up and you’ll never get out of that pool,” you replied.

“Do you have to change them to make them pool safe?” Garcia asked.

“Change what?” Spencer asked, dipping his toe into the pool, trousers rolled up to his ankles.

“My piercings. They’re the big news of the day,” you replied, “we’re not talking about this any more.”

“But you don’t have your ears-“

You shoved Reid in the shoulder. His arms windmilled before he fell forward, a large splash going up, water landing on your bare legs. You bit down on your lip, trying to keep the giggles in. They burst from you, unwilling to be contained. He was gasping for air when he emerged from the water, hair plastered to his face.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Emily chided, coming up behind you.

“I told him we weren’t talking about it anymore,” you said.

“Of course you were,” she said.

You weren’t expecting her hands landing on your shoulders, warm through the thin cotton of your shirt. With very little effort, she shoved you backwards, straight into the cold water of the pool. Your shriek was cut off as you went under.

Spluttering, you surfaced from the water. The laughter was surrounding you. You rolled your eyes, pulling yourself out of the pool, offering a hand to Reid to pull him out after you.

“Alright, point taken,” you said, “can we stop talking about my nipples now?”

“Oh.” Spencer’s face turned into a tomato.

You reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. Wringing it out over the pool, you didn’t notice the way Emily’s eyes were lingering on your bare skin, water dripping down your body. You turned, slinging the shirt over one of the loungers, once again failing to notice how Emily’s eyes lingered where your piercings were pressing up against your bikini top.

“Alright, I’m getting another beer since mine is now at the bottom of the pool,” you said, “spoils to the victors I guess.”

Stripping your sneakers and socks off, you left them on the deck and stepped back into the kitchen. Bending, you rummaged through the ice and the cans for a bottle. You stood, empty handed, disappointment making you sigh.

“Oh, have we already run out?”

You jerked, spinning towards the woman you hadn’t heard follow you. Bumping into her, something cold sloshed over your skin. The bottle held in her hand was sweating in the warm air and the scent of beer was on the air.

“I’m so sorry,” Emily said, finger swiping through the beer clinging to your skin, right over the soft skin beside the wet fabric of your bikini.

“It’s alright. It was an accident,” you said, breath catching, heart thudding, skin heating.

“You might want to clean up. We wouldn’t want you to be so…” She raised her dark eyes from where she’d been watching her finger trail through the beer on your skin, “sticky.”

You stumbled back a step from her, heart racing. You had no idea what was going through her head but all you could think was how you wanted her tongue to trace the same route as her finger.

“I’m going to… go wash this off,” you said, slipping past her.

Her eyes followed you out of the room and this time you did notice. You weren’t fleeing but you were strategically retreating or else you might beg her lick you clean. You closed the door, giving yourself room to breathe again.

Turning on the faucet, you dabbed at the trail of drying beer on your skin. When you looked up again you found the door opening and a dark haired figure sliding into the bathroom with you. Your eyes widened when they met Emily’s in the mirror.

“Sorry. I’ll just be a second,” you said.

“No rush,” she hummed.

Reaching around you, she placed the glass bottle down on the edge of the sink, arm brushing against the dip of your waist. You stilled, frozen from how close she was, staring into her face. Lips pulled up into a confident smirk. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, holding your breath as she seemed to draw even closer.

“I was hoping to get you alone tonight. I have a favour to ask,” she said, voice deepening as her eyes swept down again, focusing on your bare skin and the way your hardened nipples were showing through your bikini top.

“Oh?” you squeaked.

“Will you show me your piercings?” she asked.

You stuttered over an answer, cheeks heating as the thought of showing her filled your head. Your head quickly emptied of thoughts as her finger came up, playing with the string of your bikini. It brushed up over your collarbone before gently running over your pulse point. She watched you as she gently tugged on it, snapping it back against your skin.

“Please?” she asked, voice lowering until it was an intimate whisper.

“Alright,” you said, breathless, desperate, her touch making you a mess with so little effort.

She stepped back, her hand slipping from you. You took a deep shuddering breath, reaching up to slowly pull the knot free. Her tongue dragged along her lower lip as your top slid free, exposing your chest to her. One hand came up, resting against your ribs, steadying you as she stared down at your tits.

“So pretty,” she murmured.

One finger gently tapped on the ball at the end of the bar of one of the piercings. Your sharp inhalation brought her eyes up to yours, smouldering as she did it again. You weren’t aware of arching your back, pushing them towards her but her satisfied smirk was answer enough.

“Does that feel good, princess?” she asked. That nickname sent a jolt of pleasure right between your thighs.

“Uh huh,” you replied.

She gently tugged on the other, your small whimper making her chuckle.

“Use you words, princess,” she said.

“Feels so good,” you replied.

She did it again, a little rougher. Her name was a soft sigh, arching even further, practically begging her to continue. She complied, both hands playing with the jewellery in your nipples. Your fingers clutched at the counter, holding you up as you lent backwards.

“And what do you say when I make you feel so good?” she murmured, drawing closer.

“Thank you, daddy,” slipped from between your lips, surprising you. Your eyes widened, an apology ready, until you saw the way her eyes darkened, a sharp tug on one piercing then the other making you forget why you should.

She lent forward, breath ghosting over your hardened nipples. You froze, waiting to see what she was about to do. Her pink tongue ran along the length of one bar. Your moan was embarrassing in your ears but her hands were wrapped around your ribs, holding you in place as she did the same thing to the other one. She hummed, doing it again, transitioning from metal to flesh back to metal.

The clack of her teeth against the metal startled you until she tugged again, lips brushing flesh. Your knees were turning to jelly and you were gasping for air, but she held you in place as she played with your jewellery. Your head tipped back, fingers tangling in her dark hair as you pressed her closer. She hummed again, taking your nippled in her mouth, tongue playing with the piercing.

The throbbing between your legs was growing and you could feel how wet you were. You wanted her. You wanted her so badly it was like a physical thing, lodged in your chest. The vibration of her moan while her eyes looked up at you made you make small noise in the back of your throat.

Her teeth closed on the metal, tugging on it to the point of pain curling around the pleasure. The way you moaned her name was filthy, embarrassing in how desperate you were. Her hand was gentle as it skimmed up your body for those long fingers wrapped around your throat. She tugged on your piercing again, fingers tightening just enough for your whine to be quiet.

“Now you’re going to be good for daddy, aren’t you?” she said.

“Yes,” you breathed, not even sure what you were agreeing to.

“Then be good for daddy and turn around.”

You scrambled to follow her instructions, turning to face the mirror. Your eyes were blown wide in the mirror, wild and desperate. Her fingers curled around your throat again, the prettiest necklace you could imagine. With one foot she knocked both of yours apart, her other hand reaching around your body to play with the button of your denim shorts.

“You’re so good at following my instructions,” she murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. You felt breathless, and not just from the tightening pressure on your throat.

“Do you see how pretty you are? Looking so lovely for daddy. Wearing such pretty jewellery for me. Flaunting this body. Do you know what you do to me?” she continued, the hand on the waistband of your shorts trailing up, playing with one of your piercings again.

“Those tight little skirts in the office, watching me like you’re just waiting for me to bend you over my desk, asking for discipline. You want me to give you my full attention, don’t you princess?”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“And that’s why you decided to show off to everyone today, isn’t it? I noticed the way you arched your back, wanting everyone to see these pretty little piercings. Did you want everyone to be imagining what you look like like this, your beautiful body on display, just perfect for my hands to play with? Such a little slut trying to get my attention.”

Her fingers tightened again around your neck. Those dark eyes were watching you, the cocky smirk on her lips only making you shift closer, pressing your hips backwards towards her. You brushed against a bulge in her pants, confusion marring your features before realisation dawned over your face.

“Do you want daddy’s cock, princess?” she asked.

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Then beg for it.”

Her eyes met yours in the mirror, waiting with a patience you did not feel.

“Please, daddy. I want your cock so bad. I need it. I need to feel you inside me. Please,” you pleaded, “please fuck me, daddy. I’ll be so good for you. I want you so much.”

Her hand trailed back down to your shorts, unbuttoning them.

“That’s my good girl,” she said.

She tugged your shorts down, your bikini bottom following close behind. You kicked them away as she tugged her hips back, the bulge in her pants brushing against the bare skin of your ass. A small whine fell from your lips, pressing further backwards.

A finger passed through your folds, gathering your wetness before it ghosted over your clit. If not for the hand still wrapped around your throat, your head would have fallen forward with a small groan. Her throaty chuckle as she teased you only made you whine, begging her for more. She held your eyes in the mirror, finger dipping into your entrance, just barely, stealing your breath again.

“Look at how desperate you are. Such a desperate little slut begging for daddy’s cock. Pretty little whore wanting to please me.”

Her hand disappeared from between your legs and the sound of a zipper made you shiver. The warmth of her body pressed against your back. Your fingers clenched around the edge of the sink, knees turning to jelly.

She held you steady, one hand on your hip as the tip of her strap teased your entrance. She gave a shallow thrust, the strap stroking through your folds. Your breath turned shaky and her fingers tightened just a little bit more, enough that you could only just suck air into your lungs.

“You’re going to make such a mess on daddy’s cock. You’re dripping. Is all this for me?”

“Yes,” came out as a strangled groan, “all for you.”

“That’s my good girl.”

She was slow to push into you, so controlled in contrast to how desperation burned through your veins. Her dark eyes were watching you in the mirror, cataloguing the way pleasure rippled over your face and a moan fell from your lips. She pushed in to the hilt, hips flushed with yours. Pausing there, she let you feel how perfectly she filled you. You wriggled your hips, wanting more, the throbbing more than you could deal with.

“Use your words, princess,” she chided, holding you still.

“Please fuck me, daddy. Please,” you whined, “need you so bad.”

“Good girl.”

She pulled out until only the tip of the cock was left before slamming into you. The cry that left your lips would have embarrassed you if a wave of pleasure wasn’t rolling over you. Your fingers clenched, holding on tight as she dragged the strap out, pausing for too long before plunging in again.

The pace she set was relentless. Harsh and rough, she maintained eye contact with you, fingers clenching around your throat the moment it looked as if you were about to look away. Her other hand was finding its home between your thigh, circling your clit, a slow contrast to her thrusts. The mumbled encouragements in your ears were only setting fire to your bloodstream.

“You’re taking it so well for daddy,” she murmured, “such a pretty pussy hungry for daddy’s cock. My little cock slut.”

“Thank you, daddy,” you sighed.

“So polite.” She sounded so pleased with you.

You moaned as her pace picked up, slamming into you. Her thumb was grinding down on your bundle of nerves and you could feel her panting breath against your skin. Her hand was tightening around your throat, cutting off your air supply. You watched her in the mirror watching you. You met her thrust for thrust, pressing your hips back to hers. You felt so full with her inside of you, her cock emptying your head of anything but her and the way she made you feel hazy with pleasure.

“I’m so close, daddy,” you whimpered.

“No cumming without permission, princess,” she told you, not bothering to slow her pace.

You did your best, holding yourself back, trying so hard not to orgasm. You wanted to be her good girl. To do what she asked you. To please her.

“Look at how pretty your pussy is when I fuck into it. It was made for my cock, wasn’t it, princess? Made just for me to use,” she murmured, hips driving into you.

She wasn’t holding back. She was watching you, so closely, making sure you followed her instructions. From the curl of her lips she knew how hard you were trying and how difficult she was making it for you. Each thrust of her cock hit that place within you that made your legs tremble and your blood sing. Over and over, thumb grinding, the pleasure was turning painful as you held yourself back.

“Please, daddy. Need to cum so bad,” you begged, tears beginning to gather in the corner of your eyes.

“Not yet, princess. Keep making daddy feel good,” she said, “you’re doing so well for me.”

You sobbed, so close to coming undone but determined to be a good girl for her. She kept pounding into you, her praise only making it harder to hold on. With a tight grip, she cut off your air supply completely. Her eyes found yours in the mirror again, and her lips ticked up into a smirk.

“Okay, cum for me, princess,” she said.

It crashed into you the moment you let it. Pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave. You sobbed out your thanks, hips stuttering as you felt yourself begin to collapse forward. The hand around your throat kept you up as she fucked you through the orgasm.

She released you, letting you fall over the sink. Her thrusting slowed until she was sheathed within you, holding you, hands gentle until you caught your breath. Sweat slicked your skin and your breathing was uneven, but when you looked in the mirror your eyes were bright and your smile lazy.

“You were so good for me, princess. Such a good girl. So perfect for me,” she praised, “you did so well.”

She pulled out of you, the feeling of being full disappearing with her. She lowered you onto the edge of the bath, so gentle. Looking up, still with her tank top on and the cock between her legs, you found yourself staring. She’d just made you cum harder than ever in your life and you wanted her to touch you again.

With sure hands, she wetted a flannel before kneeling in front of you, cleaning the sticky arousal from your skin. You melted, watching her clean you up. You reached out, running your hand through her hair. She smiled up at you, fingers trailing over the skin of your legs. Her lips pressed to the inside of your knee and you softened.

“Was that okay?” she asked, “were you okay with that?”

“More than.” You lent forward, cupping her cheeks, “I’ve wanted you for so long, Emily. This was basically my dream coming true.”

“Mine too,” she said, looking up at you.

“Maybe we could do this again,” you said, doing your best not to worry she was about to tell you this was a one time thing. She pushed the hair that had fallen from your ponytail behind your ear.

“Oh, we’re definitely doing this again,” she said, raising from her knees, “I plan on having you in every way possible.”

You heated at the thought. She tucked her strap on back into her trousers, pulling them up and re-buttoning them. She lent forward again, catching your chin between thumb and forefinger. Her lips pressed to yours, so quick it left you wanting more.

“Enjoy the beer, princess,” she said, tapping on the ball of one of your piercings, making you hiss, “you’ve earned it.”

She slipped out of the bathroom, leaving you alone to redress and try to not look like you’d just been fucked in Rossi’s bathroom. The smile on your face was a dead give away. You fixed your ponytail and pulled on your damp clothes, watching yourself in the mirror. Picking up the bottle left for you, you took a long drink from it, your lips where Emily’s had been not so long ago. Your smile refused to dim.

Maybe the heatwave wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[jihyoruri]

that wonyn moment in the sneak peek was everything IM SORRY BUT IM JUST SO OBSESSED WITH THEM can we pretty please get come wonyn live moments?

WONYOUNG AND YN LIVE MOMENTS — wonyoung x wow!yn

➩ CLIP #1 PLAYING… 📼

“which member should I ask to get me snack.” wonyoung asks the live, “should I ask yn?”

she laughs at the comments telling her no, “she’ll bring you something nasty.” she reads before letting out another laugh, “no… yn?”

“yeah?”

yn walked into the frame and stands behind wonyoungs chair as the girl looks up at her, “if I asked you for a snack would you give me something nasty?” she asks looking up at yn who was looking down at her.

“yeah, I’d give you something nasty.” yn says teasingly before squinting her eyes to look at the comments as wonyoung looks at her offended.

rei’s laugh is heard in the background and yn leans against the wall behind wonyoungs chair waiting on the girl to realize the joke.

it doesn’t take wonyoung long before she’s gasping and turning around and hitting yn who lets out a laugh, “yn!”

➩ CLIP #2 PLAYING… 📼

yn and wonyoyng sat beside each other as they talked to the live about random things.

wonyoung read a comment as yn showed dives her hands that were covered with drawings of stars that drew on her hand’s earlier in the live, “yn is so pretty.”

wonyoung smiles as yn rolls her eyes, “she isn’t she? so gorgeous.” wonyoung says bringing one of her hands under yn’s chin to showcase the girls face.

yn immediately turns her face away as wonyoung laughs at the girls flustered state.

➩ CLIP #3 PLAYING… 📼

wonyoung was doing a solo live since she’s been solo activities in another country away from her members, so what’s a better way than filling that loneliness with talking to dives.

she talked about random things, she was in the middle of explaining why she’s in another country but was cut off by her phone ringing, “who’s calling me?” she asks the camera before picking up her phone and smiling at the caller id.

she shows the phone to the camera, it displays a photo of a sleeping yn in the car, “it’s yn calling! my star girl.”

“she should be sleeping though.” wonyoung says before answering the phone, “hello.”

“wony.” once yn’s sleepy voice is heard the comments go so fast to the point that you can barely read them, “I’m bored talk to me.” she whines

wonyoung laughs at yn’s whining, “you should be sleeping and I’m on live.”

“I don’t care, talk to me.”

➩ CLIP #4 PLAYING… 📼

all seven girls huddled together at a table, five of the ive members engage and talk to the live, but dives can’t seem to take their attention off of the two girls that sit at the edge of the table.

yn leans back on her chair as she stretches her shirt lifting up slightly revealing her stomach.

wonyoung looks beside her and down at yn’s stomach her mouth dropping slightly, “your abs.” she laughs rubbing yn’s stomach causing the girl to lean back down move away from wonyoung’s hands, “that tickles.”

wonyoung raises her brow at that before bringing her hands to yn’s stomach again causing the girl to flinch.

wonyoung laughs as yn swats her hands away.

“what?” gaeul asks, bringing everyone’s attention to the two girls.

“she’s ticklish.” wonyoung says before bringing her hands to yn’s stomach again and before she knew it every member joined in on tickling the girl.

➩ CLIP #5 PLAYING… 📼

wonyoung and liz sat beside each other as they ate and talked to the live about random things, “yn gifted me this vivienne westwood bracelet for my birthday isn’t it pretty?” wonyoung says to the camera, liz nodding in agreement.

someone’s voice was heard and wonyoung looked up from her bowl a smile instantly spreading on her face when came into the frame.

dives spammed the comments at the girl’s presence, begging yn to come sit and talk to them.

“they want you to come talk to them.” liz says to the girl smiling at her as yn reluctantly agrees and sits right on wonyoungs lap, causing the girl to gasp, “give me a warning at least!”

yn doesn’t respond only turning her gaze to liz opening her mouth.

liz realizes what the girl wants and brings her chopsticks to yn’s mouth feeding the girl.

yn hums as wonyoung wraps her arms around yn’s mid, leaning back into wonyoung, yn whispers to the girl, “are you gonna feed me too?”

in response wonyoung shakes her head tightening her hold on yn, “you don’t deserve it.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Penalty II

Barcelona Femení + Jenni Hermoso x Hardersson!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Jenni tries to score a penalty

Jenni arrives after lunch, stretched and ready to beat you where Alexia has failed.

"Can you believe that this is the same kids that Tana went around getting our shirts for?" Jana asks in disbelief as Jenni sends an absolute rocket towards the goal only for you to collect it like it was shot at you by a six year old.

You drop the ball to your foot before shooting it back to her.

Jenni doesn't have your skills in the slightest so she doesn't catch it with her hands but rather her stomach. To her credit, she takes it well and grabs the ball to take another penalty.

"You know," Pina says as she watches Jenni kick another ball at you," When Aitana came up to me to ask, I was certain she was giving them to a kid that wanted to be a forward. I watched her grab one from Mariona and Salma before me."

"But why?" Talia asks suddenly," She's always wanted to be a keeper."

"I didn't know her," Pina replies with an eye roll," Aitana didn't give much of an explanation. Sue me for assuming."

"I couldn't imagine her as anything other than a keeper," Aitana says finally as another ball goes rocketing at you that you collect without even a second thought.

"It seems weird now that you say it," Pina agrees," But again, I didn't know who it was for at the time."

She reaches for more of the juice that Paredes packed.

Across the field, you collect yet another ball as Alexia grabs Jenni by the back of the shirt to pull her into an imitation of a team huddle.

The two of them are close enough that their heads are pressed together, no doubt trying to come up with a plan they haven't tried yet.

You stand there awkwardly, adjusting your gloves as the two veterans whisper together like two schoolkids. You wait a little longer before deciding that you'll just go and sit down while the two of them cook up a master plan.

"Hey," You say to Talia softly, taking her hand as you sit down.

"Hey," She replies," Are you finished then?"

"I think they're trying to work out a plan," You confess," They're two seconds away from drawing it out with a stick in the dirt."

It's a bit embarrassing for them because you've hit the nail on the head. Both of them are clutching sticks, looking on the ground for a patch without grass so they can draw something out.

"Do you think they regressed since they retired?" Talia wonders aloud when Jenni and Alexia find a clear patch and get to work drawing with their sticks. "Like, do you think that they've gone back to children? Is that what's going to happen to us?"

You frown. "I don't know. Did it happen to your cousin?"

"Patri was always a child."

"Okay!" Alexia says suddenly, clapping her hands," We've got it. We've done it. Get back out there."

You laugh a little under your breath but get back up.

"Don't let them win!" Patri yells after you along with the jeering from the rest of the girls as you take your spot back on your goal line.

Jenni runs up to kick the ball only to fall short and wheel around back to Alexia to whisper to her about something.

Alexia whispers back until they're having a little argument in hushed voices.

"Come on!" Pina cajoles," Are you scared or what?"

There's more jeering the longer they take until Jenni steps up again.

She doesn't do a run up and you're already moving to the left before she's even realised she's shooting that way.

You collect it easily, rolling the ball back.

Jenni huffs and Alexia runs up to whisper something into her ears. She nods and tries again.

Just like Alexia, she grows a bit more annoyed the longer it takes to get passed you. You don't give her any hope and the next time Alexia comes up to whisper in her ears, she snaps," I know! It just isn't working!"

"Do you want to stop?" You ask," It's getting late now."

"Yeah," Jenni says," Alright-"

"No!" Alexia snaps," Don't admit defeat! Don't let her win!"

"Hey!" Jenni throws her hands up in defence. "I'm more than happy to let her win. I know when we're outclassed."

"We're not outclassed! We're just rusty!"

Jenni claps you on the back as Alexia continues to insist she's just a little rusty.

"How do you deal with her at training all the time? Is she this intense as a coach?"

"More intense," You answer," You should see her when the midfielders mess up."

Jenni laughs. "Oh, I can imagine. Does she still get crazy eyes?"

You shrug and that's answer enough.

"I don't get crazy eyes!"

Jenni can't stop laughing now. "Sure you don't, Ale."

[sweetbans29]

Varsity Jacket - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You and Caitlin keep it light and playful at a game (based on THIS request)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Is this not everyones dream?

It's the first time in the state's history of WBB that they decided to play basketball in a football stadium. A piece of history that has been led by one girl allowing thousands to benefit.

The game was chosen to be an exhibition game, a kick-off to the season, naming it the Crossover at Kinnick. They laid the Iowa WBB court within the confines of the outdoor football stadium, drawing a near 55,000 fans to be a part of the first game in Caitlin Clark's senior year. A NCAA record-breaking 55,000 fans. The first of many records Clark would break this upcoming season.

The game followed a lot of football Saturday traditions. The way the team was called out, a stadium flyover, and your favorite part - the Hawkeye Wave over to the kids in the UI Stead Family Children’s Hospital. You had done it before when your team had danced at football games and were excited to be a part of it today.

You are proud to be part of the Iowa Hawkeye dance team - have been for the past three years now. It is what brought you to IU in the first place.

Growing up dance had always been something you enjoyed. Unlike most of the other girls on the dance team, you didn't start taking dance classes until halfway through middle school. When you learned you had a natural talent for it, you started taking it more seriously. You joined your high school's dance team and decided it was something you wanted to try your hand at in college. When you auditioned going into your freshman year, you were one of two freshmen to make the team.

Since then you have captained the team for two football seasons, going into your third. Yet here you are, freezing your azz off because you forgot your damn coat.

Upon arriving at the stadium, you should have been prepared. You should have thought through how it is November in Iowa and how it is about to be winter but that doesn't cross your mind until you are shaking courtside.

"Didn't you bring a coat?" One of your teammates asks. She is currently bundled up in two jackets, ear muffs, and hand warmers.

"If I did, don't you think I would be wearing it?" You snap and immediately realize. "I'm sorry babe, I am just freezing."

You are trying to hide your shaking body and keep moving around to generate any sort of heat that you can.

A part of being on the dance team was being visible during the whole game. You weren't the cheer squad but your team had to be posted up next to them every game. It wasn't bad, it was just cold.

As halftime approached you directed your team to stretch out again, not wanting them to pull anything while dancing. You did the same, as you watched your basketball continue to do what they do best.

Once everyone was stretched, you all bunched together ready to take the court.

"I am still freezing my ass off," you say rubbing your hands together and huddle close to your friend. "I can't believe I didn't bring my freaking overcoat."

The team was coming off when someone bumped your shoulder causing you to take a few steps back.

"Hey! Watch it," you tell the 6-foot frame.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry," the girl says. You pull down your skirt and smooth it over. Once you are satisfied with your outfit adjustment you look up.

'Of-freaking-course', you think to yourself as you make eye contact with none other than Caitlin Clark.

"I didn't see you there," she says, the slightest smirk peaking out.

"Very funny Clark," you say trying to hide your own smile and keep it serious.

"Oh, keeping it professional now are we?" She says. "It's cute, but you can call me Caitlin."

"That is so kind of you," you say, kind of surprised she is still there talking to you. You finish your sentence with, "Clark."

She just smiles and shakes her head. You hear the music come on and you know it's your cue. Caitlin doesn't follow the rest of the team back through the tunnel, rather stands to the side and watches you and your team take the court.

Caitlin knows she should be back with her team. More so to warm up but she couldn't nor wanted to take her eyes off you. She stood there watching you and your team keep everyone entertained during halftime. A smile resting on her lips the entire time.

She has seen you around before. How could she not, you were at practically every sports game. Caitlin would frequent the Hawkeye's football games but never really got close enough to see you perform (something she will probably never admit to you). If it wasn't seeing you in passing there, she noticed you would go and watch other sports just for fun. She has to think about it but if she remembers correctly she has seen you at both the men's and women's volleyball matches, women's soccer, and even some track and even the women's swim and dive meets.

Caitlin cheers on your team as you finish your routine and runoff, making way for the cheer squad to perform their routine next. As you make your way back you see Cait standing in the same spot she bumped you in. She is smiling at you and clapping as you make your way over. You walk up to her despite the murmurs you hear from your team, only making out your name and Caitlin's in their muffled conversations.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere, Clark?" You ask as you cross your arms over your chest. You may have just performed a 6-minute dance routine but the chilled air was unforgiving.

"Wanted to stay out here and watch - making sure your little frozen ass doesn't fall off," she says, her eyes never leaving yours.

"The team is great," you say with a smile choosing to ignore the second part of her statement and refusing to be the first one to break eye contact.

"I wasn't watching the team," she says, that stupid smirk playing on her lips again. You could feel yourself losing this battle.

"That's a shame, they are great," you say trying to regain any part of this conversation.

"Maybe, but not as great as who I had my eyes on," she says. You blush and look away. You felt like you were being interrogated by the freaking CIA not flirting with your school's superstar.

"Okay, Clark, you win," you say as you crumble under her gaze.

She rubs the back of your arm, letting her hand linger on you. You look back up at her.

"I should get back," she says not wanting to leave you but knowing her job isn't done.

"You should," you say, agreeing for her - the first time since this conversation has started.

"Thanks for umm, thanks for watching," you say, your nerves peaking out. She nods and heads in the direction of her team.

What the hell was that? You make your way over to your team and they are all chattering about the interaction. You take your seat next to your co-captain who is just looking at you.

You keep your head forward still processing it all. Caitlin Clark was just talking to you. Not only that, but she waited and watched you perform then proceeded to flirt with you about it. Her hand was on your arm. You were thankful it wasn't skin-to-skin contact because you probably would have never let her walk away. She was teasing you.

You are too caught up in your own thoughts to see when someone had walked up to you. Your co-cap tapping your leg and nodding at the woman who was standing in front of you.

"Oh hi," you say and stand.

"I was told to bring this over to you," she says holding something, you look down and it's a jacket.

"Oh thank you," you say grabbing it.

"She wanted me to say it is from Caitlin," she says, emphasizing the name. "Told me I had to emphasize the name."

The woman walks away and you unfold the jacket to see 'CLARK' on the back right above the number 22. This girl is not serious right now. If you were under any other circumstance, you would not be putting it on but since the only time you have stopped shaking was while you were performing you decide to put the jacket on.

If your team was whispering about your interaction with Caitlin before, they are shouting from the rooftops now.

The basketball team comes back out and you find yourself looking for a particular someone. To your delight, she is making her way over to you.

"You got it, good," she says, wrapped in an Iowa jacket of her own.

"You didn't need to do this," you say but make no move to try and hand it back to her. It has been the warmest you have been the whole game. She lets out a little laugh.

"Sure, says the one who was shaking like a chihuahua," she says taking in the sight of you in her clothing. She could get used to this.

"I appreciate it, Clark," you say and she groans.

"Caitlin," she says.

"Clark," you retort.

"Cait," she responds.

"Clark," you are not giving in.

"CC, Caity, C - anything but Clark," she says frustrated.

"Why does it bother you so much that I call you by your last name?" You ask now the one who has the slight edge in the conversation.

"Clark, get your butt over here," one of her coaches yells at her.

"That's why," she mumbles and gives you one last look before running back over to the team.

"Get it Clark!" You yell after her, earning some whistles and shouts from your team.

You're thankful it is still cold out because the redness on your cheeks can easily be taken as cold, hiding your blush.

Your team doesn't shut up about the fact that you had talked to Caitlin but she gave her varsity jacket to you to wear. All the girls were staring at you and taking in the sight of the player's jacket.

A ball gets swatted out of bounds and you catch it before it can hit anyone on your team. Caitlin sees where it goes and books it to grab it from you.

Here is the thing about Caitlin, she is the last person to go and catch a ball that has been hit out of bounds. Her whole team was aware of this. So it is to everyone's surprise when she is the first one to hustle after the ball when the whistle is blown.

You hold up the ball for her.

"Careful there Clark, could have hurt someone," you say.

She laughs, "Ya right."

"Since when are you the first one to run after a loose ball," you say exposing that you may have watched her more than a few times. Could anyone blame you? Caitlin has been drawing the attention of the whole nation.

"Didn't want to miss the opportunity to come talk to the pretty girl," she says with that damn smirk.

"You are too kind Clark," you say faking flattery.

"Oh, I was talking about the girl next to you," she says teasing you.

You sit there speechless as Caitlin finally takes the ball.

"I'm kidding, but you should see the look on your face. It's priceless," she says winking at you before heading back over to inbound the ball.

'Oh it is on Clark' you think as you watch them finish up the last quarter.

Caitlin, of course, plays amazing. She finishes the game off with her first triple-double of the season. You watch as she celebrates with her team - all of who were excited to start the season on a high note. You are celebrating with your team when they all go quite in front of you and stare at something behind you. You turn around before Caitlin can tap your shoulder.

"Ahh, so we meet again," you say with a smile. "Well done Clark."

"Okay, enough with the Clark. You are wearing my jacket for goodness sake," she says and shakes her head.

"Oh, ya, thank you for this," you say and begin to take it off. She stops you by putting her hand on your arm - the second time today you note.

"Hold on to it, if you take it off now you will start shaking again and I don't really care to see you looking like a little chihuahua," she says and scratches the back of her neck. You raise your eyebrow at her. If you don't give her the jacket back now, that means you will need to see her again to return it.

"And who exactly am I supposed to get this back to you?" You ask.

"Well that is actually why I came over here," she says and you can tell she is a little more nervous than she had been before. You don't notice but both of your teams are watching the interaction between you.

"Okay," you say encouraging her to continue.

"How would you feel about going out with me this weekend?" Caitlin says as she has to mentally remind herself to keep her breathing steady and to not rush her words.

"I don't know..." you start. "I was thinking I could just have someone swing the jacket by one of your practices."

Caitlin's face looks mortified and you immediately bring your hand up to hers to ease her, your joke being taken a little too serious.

"I'm kidding Clark," you say and give her hand a squeeze. "I would love to go out with you this weekend."

She smiles widely.

"Great," she says. "I'll text you details," she begins walking backward.

"And how are you going to do that without my number?" You say as she is now just out of reach.

"You're cute," she says, now back in control of the conversation. "I've had your number for a while, now I just get to use it."

You stare at her, mouth agape. You don't know how to get the last word in so she does.

"Talk to you soon babe!" Caitlin says and runs back towards her team.

AN: This was a cutie. Hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode II 

Concurrent Tides

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. Most illustrations are now on her patreon.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19) Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, aggressive rut cycle, heat cycle, dom/sub dynamics, jealousy/posessiveness, knotting, marking, scenting, praise kink, breeding kink, size difference, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, ralak is a bit of a meanie in this, let me know if I forgot anything? Word Count: 10k Requested: Yes || No Author’s Note: the second special episode is finally here. sorry it took forever to get it out, but better late than never :') i hope you guys enjoy <3 theres another part to come after this one! 🤍 Synopsis: what happens if you and your new mates cycles sync? 

<- Previous Next ->

——

“Only I knot you.”

That was the first time you’d ever seen Ralaks eyes shift in colour. That same night right after he pulled you out of his memory of his first rut. A beautiful, deep blue, glistening before your honey glazed orbs. It’s barely been a week since that night, yet it replays over and over. Day and night. How he looked at you with nothing but unadulterated greed, hardly catching his breath as he tried to steady his galloping heart. It was something deep-rooted and primal. 

Something animalistic. 

Since, you’ve longed to see him fully immersed in such a state. A state where self control and sexual desire no longer coexist. He’s always too concerned with you and what he thinks you can and cannot manage that he never allows himself to do what he truly wants. The level of restraint you feel through the bond is indescribable. A level you nor any other na’vi could conceivably attain. Regardless, most nights you find yourself fantasizing about this ‘lack of control’ right before bed. 

Nights like tonight. 

Where the stars shimmer so brightly that you need to draw the curtains, and the air is exceptionally cold and crisp that you need to huddle closely together for warmth. When your nose is buried so deep into his chest that there's no other choice for his scent to fill your lungs. And tonight he smells extraordinarily good. The salt of the sea mixed with leather hide. And oddly enough, he smells like… home. The forest and its greenery. It’s quite ironic but perhaps it’s Eywa’s way of saying that this man is truly yours. It's so comforting and right. Like a cup of hot tea on a stormy night, never failing to put you to sleep. A remedy that works in seconds — but not tonight. 

Tonight you’re restless and he can sense it. 

“What is it?” Ralak husks, shifting his position to hold you a little closer. “Cold?” 

Truthfully, you’ve been feeling a little off. Your body has been restless and haunted. As if it could sense some sort of change of shift in the atmosphere. Or perhaps it was between the two of you. “No.” You mumble, lifting your head to look up at him. “Just can’t sleep.”

Ralaks ears twitch, a little surprised his typical soothing techniques aren’t working. He sits up quite quickly, bringing you up with him as he scoots back into frame of his bed. His brows lower when he ponders about what could be keeping you so on edge. He takes note of your flushed appearance and the minute changes in your eyes, they’re glowing a little brighter recently. 

His brows jump when the realisation dawns on him. 

Could it be? He knows it’s close but is it really already affecting you? How is that possible? And does that mean it will be even more severe this time around? 

He had every intention to stay but perhaps it’ll be more difficult than he expected. He should really tell you, but he knows exactly how that would play out. You would get your way as per usual, it was hard for him to deny you of anything you wanted. A quick swish of your tail and it was yours. Ralak took pride in caring and providing for you. But not for this. This was just plain dangerous. And therefore he couldn’t allow you to figure it out. It’s ultimately safer that he keeps it to himself, at least until you’ve adjusted to him a little more. Your intimate moments together are very few in number after all. 

“Why is that, tanhì?” He asks in a low, steady tone, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face. 

You may be a slow learner, but you weren’t slow. You could sense that he wasn’t being all that transparent with you. 

“I don’t know. Something feels off about you.” You say in an almost accusatory tone, finally sitting up to look him in the eye. He’s pale in the face and his breath becomes raggedy. “Tell me, Ralak.” 

You watch as his pupils constrict, leaving nothing but a black dot in an open sea of blue. Within a matter of seconds, they deepen in colour and his eyelids flutter shut. He clears his throat, and waits a few seconds to open his eyes. They’re back to normal but you could’ve sworn they looked different. Just like they did a few nights ago. 

“What just happened to your—” Your heart begins to race as you utter the words, only to be cut off by Ralaks hasty voice. 

“Inland. Tomorrow morning. Overnight hunting trip.” He grinds them out as if it physically hurts to say the words. Anything to keep you from figuring it out. 

What? Is he — lying to you? 

This isn’t like him. He avoided trips inland at all costs. Anything to stay with his tanhí. He’d even go as far as faking an illness, despite rarely getting ill, to get out of accompanying Tonowari. Especially for overnight trips. 

“And why did you not tell me earlier?” You manage to squeak out a closing throat, backing away to create a little distance.

He shakes his head as he blinks rapidly, staying put to allow as much space as you need. “I was hoping I did not need to go.” He utters, dropping his head to lock his gaze on your twiddling thumbs. His eyes trail up your dark blue frame, taking note of how your body is already almost trembling —already responding to him— all out of your control. He bows his head, hiding his face. “But it seems that I cannot get out of this one. I am sorry, my paysyul.” 

For a fleeting moment, you really thought this was the beginning of something bad. Something deceitful. But, his words instantly bring you comfort, slowing your leaping heart and putting your mind at ease. 

But the funny thing is that there was no lie. 

There was really an overnight trip inland with Tonowari. One that Ralak arranged himself. Tonowari was especially taken aback by Ralaks suggestion of a hunting trip and immediately queried if he was alright, putting a firm hand on his forehead to determine if he had some sort of fever. But once Ralak explained himself, Tonowari was smiling and laughing, smacking a few blows on his back as a form of approval, teasing him yet again about ‘the love story between an Akula and an ilu’. 

Your sigh brings Ralak out of his deep thought, chin leaving his chest to witness you sliding back into bed, turning on your side and backing up onto him. A smirk pulls at the his lips as he joins you, enveloping you in his warmth once more. A wave of relief washes over him as he rests his chin on the crown of your head. He’s thankful that you didn’t press any further. Otherwise, he would’ve had to reveal his best kept secret. 

His upcoming rut. 

—— 

The harsh thump of Ralaks heart rouses him to the sight of his mate clung to his chest. He admires your beauty, allowing his eyes to fall on your chest, watching closely as you breathe slowly. He gently pulls back the thin sheeting covering your body, exposing your puffy nipples to the cool morning air. When they stiffen into peaks, saliva pools in his mouth. At this point he would have looked away because of basic na’vi decency, but this morning is different. 

He allows himself to stare. To take in every detail on your chest. To sear it into his memory so he can visualise you just like this as he relieves himself. Exposed before his eyes, supple skin glistening as the rays of sunlight reflect against your freckles, exposed, stiffened nipples, that act as the perfect bait to lure in a hungry predator. 

Predator.

That’s what he’ll be in a matter of minutes. Nothing but a slave to his own urges and instincts. Ravenous. Insatiable. Voracious. With not even a sliver of self composure left to hold onto an ounce of rationality. He can already feel it creeping up on him, the hunger deep in his core turning him into the beast that he appears to be on the outside. It’s always been like this. A little too much. Too overwhelming. 

Too aggressive. 

And as the years passed it only worsened. Six unmated years. With no one but himself to make it through the tortuous few days. He just knows that he would be too rough with you. It’s his biggest fear, after all. To have no self control. To hurt the one thing he loves more than Eywa’s gift of life itself. He would sacrifice his own (life) if it meant to save yours.

He was hoping to endure it. Bite his tongue through it and be by your side. Perhaps take a long bath in the lake and crawl into bed after you’ve gone to sleep and relieve himself as quietly as he can. But now that it’s here in full bloom, he’s already having a hard time containing his urge to spread your legs and use you as his own personal fucktoy. 

But you’re more than that to him. 

And this is why he’s choosing to leave before you wake. Before he can no longer contain himself to just staring at your bare chest. Before he pulls the sheet down even further and parts your legs—already trembling from his leaking pheromones—and has a taste of his sweet, sweet tanhí. Rather, he uses his last shred of self composure to plant a firm kiss on your forehead before quickly gathering his gear and heading out the door. 

Unbeknownst to him, you were awake the entire time. 

You could feel his eyes bore into your tiny frame as the crisp morning air grazed past your nipples, just like you could feel the roughness of his kiss right above your brow. You wanted to open your eyes but the way his pheromones waft up your nose had you in a foggy trance. Your eyes burned under your eyelids and your body felt so heavy and hot. 

You couldn’t help but think, is this his rut?

To be influenced by his cycle? You had felt it before. His first rut in the flashback, but it was nothing like this. Sure, it had you shivering and a little on edge but this was to another level. You could barely open your eyes, much less get out of bed. This entire time your body has been sending warning signals that its mate was peaking in his cycle — restlessness, clinginess, the nesting. You had unknowingly gathered enough fruits and grains to last you a few days. Even in this murky state of mind you finally manage to link the pieces of the puzzle together. 

Listening to his footsteps as he walks out the marui, you muster up as much strength as you can to open your eyes. It’s blurry and honestly all just one blob. You could only make out a few colours trailing behind this gentle giant—green, blue and orange. All of which mix together and move like the aurora in the night sky. If one could see what a pheromone looks like, this would be it. When you finally get enough strength to part your chapped lips to mutter his name, the colours disappear as the marui flap closes behind him. 

You really thought that once he left and the room aired out, that the influence of his pheromones on your body would lift as well. But you were wrong. Instead, the heaviness of your body grew tenfold, making it hard to breathe. It’s as if your lungs were filled to the brim with cold water, yet they burned as you squirmed around to fill them with air. The fire in your lungs quickly spread to your extremities, leaving your entire being in a sweltering inferno. 

This feeling is familiar, yet foreign all at once. A desire so extreme it burns from within. The desire to be connected with your mate on all levels known to the na’vi. To satiate the itch of your empty, fertile womb by filling it with his seed. 

Why did you have to get your heat now?

You call for Ralak a few times in your dazed state, only for you to be reminded by nothing but the crash of the waves that he’s gone. Soon the heavy rumble of the waves is drowned out by your whimpers and whines as you call for your mate to no avail. All you can manage to do in your feverish haze is kick off whatever cloth is stuck to your body, curl into a ball and rock to ease the unbearable sensation between your legs.

All until you hear a familiar, husky voice. 

“I was doing some sessions with Ronal and—”

“R-Ralak?” You call out in relief, hoping your prayers have finally been answered. You roll onto your side and squint at the figure in the door frame. 

“Uh. Not quite.” He quickly mutters under his breath, moving his forearm to shield his nose from your strong pheromones wafting his way. “Eywa—” He mumbles the great mothers name like a curse as he looks around the marui for your mate. “Where is Tak?” 

Tak?

The more you squint your eyes, the more you’re able to make out who this figure standing in your doorway is. Your blurred vision clears just enough to reveal the unforgettable, brawny features of no other than Ka’ani. 

“Ka’ani?” You say the name slowly, unsure if you should believe your eyes. 

“Hah. What do you know…” Ka’ani scoffs, moving his arm from his face to lean in to get a better look at your condition. You’re panting yet shivering, glazed in your own sweat and slick. He smirks a little as he pulls back, spitting out the words, “…bitch in heat.” 

“What are you... d-doing here? You should leave!” You try to shout, although it comes out more as a hoarse cry. 

“Why should I? It looks like you need a hand.” Ka’ani jesters, physically extending his hand towards you as he wiggles his thickset fingers. 

“Haa. I really don’t.” You pant, hugging your knees to your chest even tighter.

“You’re sitting in a puddle of your own sweat.” Ka’ani’s voice is harsh, yet laced with concern. “And whatever else is coming out of you.” His jaw clenches and unclenches as he looks away from you, seemingly out of — respect? He catches sight of the full bucket of fresh water at your bedside, along with empty drinking bowls.

Has she not been tended to all day? Not a sip to drink? Ka’ani thinks to himself, concerned as to why Tak’s mate would be alone, uncared for and in heat of all things. 

You finally muster up the energy to tug the sodden sheet over your naked body and scoot back further to the frame of the bed. “Ralak said he will be back soon. You should leave if y-you want to live.” You lie, feeling a little threatened that a male na’vi has barged into your marui while you’re in heat. 

“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, y/n. None of this makes sense.” Ka’ani speaks, taking a few steps towards you. 

You shuffle even further back only for your back to make contact with the bed frame. A rush of fear surges through you. The type of fear that has your heart twisting behind your ribs. You cross your legs over one another, bunching up the sheet between them and beg with trembling lungs, “P-Please, Ka’ani. Don’t.” 

Ka’ani stops dead in his tracks, seemingly offended by your assumption that he’d be approaching you to do something that the great mother herself would look down upon. Sure, he tracked your scent last time, but he was here atone exactly for that. 

“Syor [relax]. I would never do such a thing.” He says through gritted teeth, storming towards the bedside and quickly pouring you a drink. “No matter how strong your scent is. Although, you don’t smell all that great now that you’re mated.” He chuckles lightly as he hands you the drink. Your eyes jump between him and the cup in his hand before you struggle to sit up. His hand instinctively reaches out to assist you, but you bat it away and continue to pull yourself up. 

“Just — let me help you.” He snaps, supporting your back when you finally give in. “Drink.” He commands, plunking the cup in your hand, taking a step back and crossing his arms.  

You gulp down the water greedily, finally quenching your thirst and hoping it will provide some level of relief to your febrile condition. You hum to yourself as the water makes its way down your throat, but groan when you feel no better. Meanwhile, Ka’ani takes in your state, feeling a twinge in his heart for you when he sees how you’ve been suffering. You look more than uncomfortable. You look like you’re in pain.

“You’ll be alright, y/n. Just tell me where he went and I’ll go fetch him.” He speaks in a more gentle tone, taking the empty cup from your hand.

“I-I don’t — haah. He said he went… He went inland to hunt.” You blubber out, feeling your body heat to a dangerous degree. It has you shaking as you ease yourself back into a more comfortable position. 

Ka’ani shakes his head a bit, “Inland to hunt? Really? When his mate is in heat? Tak would never. The only time he’d ever do that is if he is also… in rut.” Ka’ani stalls on the last few words that slip off his tongue, tasting them in his mouth as the realization sets in. Ka’ani quickly fills the cup, sets it next to you and bolts to the door. Before he ducks under the flap of your Marui, he looks over his shoulder and reassures you.

“Sit tight, forest girl. I know exactly where he is.”

— —

It’s been a few hours since coming to his usual spot — the waterfall with the coldest water known to the reef people. It is Ralaks most private and intimate place aside from his humble abode. A place where only a select few people know about. He’s most drawn to the low temperature of the water, making it a perfect environment to endure the heat of his rut in. 

Despite doing this for the past few years, each cycle gets a little more intense. And this one is certainly no exception. 

Ralak sits underneath the overhang, right in the dip of the plunge pool, and allows the water to beat on his back. He’s maintained this position for the past few hours, only releasing himself when the pressure in his core grows too much. A pressure so immense it would have his body acting on its own accord — a wandering hand finding its way to his swollen cock. 

Truth be told, he hated the feeling. 

He hated feeling so out of control. To be nothing but a slave to his own primal impulses. He’d fight it as much as he could, just like he is now, until the sensation is just too intense to ignore. Until he’s grunting and squirming with a body so heated it has him grinding his teeth. 

He quickly stands up, tilting his head back and covering his face from the stream of the water with his hands. At this point his cock is so swollen that it’s outright painful, throbbing and pulsing from the lack of attention. He thinks of you — your thin tail and tiny stature. The way you lay in bed this morning before he left. Naked and exposed before his eyes. Eywa, how he wishes you were here. How he could finally spend his rut with his mate, but he just knows it would be too much for you to handle. 

The thoughts of you make this no easier, sending his hips thrusting into the air — the running water stimulating his thudding cockhead. He groans from the immense pleasure a little water brings him. He’s neglected himself so badly to the point that he feels like this could really make him cum. But how many times has he cum by now? 

Once? Twice? Thrice? 

He lost count after the fifth time, not that he was keeping track anyways. If anything he was downright denying himself the pleasure, and convincing himself that he remained in control. But fuck, the image of your delicate body —the possibility that he could break you if he weren’t careful— pushes him over the edge. Before he can stop himself, his hot cum is spilling from his slit all over the length of his cock and he’s unable to keep his noises at a minimum. 

“Mmmph.” His deep growl rumbles, a hand grabbing a firm hold of his jumping cock. 

He squeezes what’s left out of his slit, finally looking down to see the state of himself. It’s red and raw — spikes fully erect and balls drawn so close to his body they’re practically hiding behind his thick knot. He lets out a loud sigh. 

Relief. 

Finally, he leans back against the rocky wall and slides down into the plunge pool, immersing himself chest deep into the water. He lightly treads back to the bank and makes himself comfortable — allowing his head to rest and body to relax. He takes a few deep breaths and tunes into the burble of the waterfall. 

All until he hears the click of a — 

Ka’ani?

“Tik-Tak.” Ka’ani clicks melodically, cautiously approaching the giant submerged in the waterfall. Ralak doesn’t budge. He remains fixed in position, eyes shut, head and elbows resting on the edge of the river. His chest heaves harshly as he attempts to remain in this less than tranquil state. “Never thought I’d see the day Ralak leaves his mate in heat. To be soaking in a waterfall of all things.” 

Perhaps Ralak heard wrong. Leaving his mate in heat? Ralak would know if his mate were in heat. He would sense it. Whatever rubbish he’s spewing out, Ralak doesn’t have the time, nor patience, for it. 

“Skxawng, what are you on about? Leave me be.” Ralak huffs, wiping the sweat from his face with a quick hand movement.

“Just as I thought. You’re all hot and bothered too, aren’t you?” Ka’ani chuckles. 

“Leave.” Ralak says angrily, his purplish-blue eyes finally snapping up to meet Ka’ani’s. “I have just calmed.”

Ka’ani’s brows knit together, offended and a little confused with himself for being upset from the way Ralak is shooing him away. 

“Oh c’mon brother. All I’ve been told today is to leave!” Ka’ani’s hands fly up as he takes a step forward. “First your mate, and now you. Am I really that unwanted?”

Now he’s got Ralaks attention. 

Ralak gets a whiff of your sweet, sweet pheromones on him. As if he’s been around his tanhì. Scenting his tanhì. Touching his tanhì. His primal urges devour him once more, eating away at him until nothing but a possessive beast remains. One of pure territorial instinct. 

“What did you do?” Ralak growls through a clenched jaw as he jumps out the water and approaches Ka’ani. “Scenting my mate again?” His voice booms as it increases in volume, yet lowers in depth. “Answer me. Did you touch her?!” 

“No!” Ka’ani blurts out, now taking a few steps back with his hands splayed out in front of him. “Is that what you both really think of me? This is the last I ever do some—”

Ralak remains silent, taking quick, calculated strides directly towards Ka’ani, who is now backing up into a tree. Once his back hits the scaly bark, Ralaks' balled fist slams into the trunk, barely an inch away from Ka’ani’s skull. 

“Alright! Alright. I know what I did before. I-I’m sorry. I came looking for you to apologise for that but I found her in heat. Okay? I came here as soon as I realized.” 

Unsure of whether or not to believe a word coming from this skxawng’s mouth, Ralak steps away from his prey, bloody knuckled and full of uncertainty. But the one thing he is certain about is the fact that he wants no other na’vi to find you if you really are in heat. With a huff of defeat, he pushes past Ka’ani and bolts for the shore. 

——

The trek back to the marui is twice as quick. Your pheromones are thick and potent, affecting him even a few feet away from the marui door. And when he steps through the marui door, he’s completely inundated with the thick fog of your pheromones. He feels lost in himself, struggling not to succumb to his instincts. Struggling to regain control.

“Ma’ L-Lak?” You mewl shakily.

You can smell him, just like he can smell you. It only drives you further into your heat, your trembling body now shaking a little more. Sensing that your mate is in close proximity, your scent glands release more of your aphrodisiac to lure him in. In turn, this has its effects on your body — sending you into a submissive state where you feel too heavy to even lift a finger. You lay there, legs splayed out and glossy fingered. 

You watch through blurred vision as the tall and thick silhouette quickly makes its way towards you. Ralak grabs and firmly holds your legs back as he leans in close, making the confirmation that his mate is indeed in heat. He lingers a little longer than he can control, taking everything in him to pull away and calm down — panting and out of breath. 

“It is true.” He huffs, towering over your tiny, shivering frame. “In heat.” The two words drip off his tongue, much like the thick nectar dripping from your slit.

“Lak. Oh — lak. ’ts you.” You cry out in relief, clawing at his thigh to bring him back to you, “‘m so happy it’s you ‘nd not someone else.” His teeth grit as your hand grazes his thigh, but he remains fixed in place, unsure of his ability to keep his composure if he allows himself to give in to your touches. 

What is he supposed to do now? 

He didn’t think this far into his plan… for once in his life. Typically he’s quite calculated and certain of his next move but now — now he’s not sure how he’s going to deal with this. He just knew that he couldn’t leave you alone. Not for another man to find and claim you in the way that only he should. But he has to remain himself. For you. He swallows down his uncertainty before speaking. 

“I should have stayed.” He looks down at the flushed, puffy flesh between your legs with a rapacious glint in his eye. “I am sorry.” 

“Don’t be. Just p-please. It’s to-o much. T-Too hot. It aches, karyu.” Ralak winces when you groan the last few words, it’s almost painful to resist you at this point. You go to claw at this thigh once more, only for him to shift away. “No, don’t do that. Not right now. N-Need you so ba—”

“My rut came. This morning.” He’s quick to cut you off with a strained, yet monotonous voice, unable to peel his eyes away from your swollen cunt. 

“I-I know.” You pant, earning a twitch of Ralaks brows. “‘nd t-that’s good. Ngh—that’s really good,  I-I can help you too.” You mumble, sticking your hand between your legs to fondle with yourself. With the way he grimaces one side of his face, it seems as if he wants to look away, but can’t. 

“No, tanhì. We spoke of this.” His accent is thick as he struggles to string the words together, “No control. Trying hard…” he inhales quickly, eyes plastered to the sight in front of him, “…not to lose it.”

At this point the haze of your heat has you lethargically shaking your head from side to side, mumbling whatever frustrated-fueled words that first come to you “…haven’t cum yet…”, you squirm around to find a position that allows your wandering fingers better access to your hole, “…need to cum.” You slur the words as you barely slip two fingers inside you and you quietly sob when they provide very little release. 

“Ralak!” You cry loudly enough to at last lure his gaze up to yours, the night sea finally meeting the roaring flame. Your voice quiets down into a soft whimper, “Please. Just t-try. Please.” 

A moment of silence passes where you and Ralak stare at one another, hearts pounding and chests heaving, understanding exactly how the other feels. The burning desire to come together. The resistance, yet the lack of control. The eternal flame within. The heat. 

Ralak breaks eye contact to glance at your slender fingers working as hard as they can. He breathes a heavy sigh, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving you when he sees just how raw you are from being in heat all alone. He’s responsible for you even being in this bad of a state, isn’t he? Leaving you before sunrise with nothing but a kiss on the head. If anything that only made it more intense for you. He wants to — no, needs to care for you. It’s what every part of himself is urging him to do. 

“The thought of another finding you… like this.” Ralak rasps as he closes in on you, “so vulnerable… it makes me — haah.” He cuts himself off with a shaky sigh and a clench to his jaw. Beads of sweat ball on his temples, slowly rolling down his angular jaw to eventually meet and drip from his chin onto your stomach. He looms over you, his hair flowing forward when he suddenly grabs and tugs at your wrist in one swift move, yanking your fingers out of you. 

“Ss-ah!” You hiss with a wince, heart skipping a beat when you realise that he’s barely there anymore. “I-It makes you, what?” You ask quietly — nervously, even. 

A bestial growl begins to rumble in his chest, causing a shiver to ripple through you—hardening your nipples into peaks within seconds. Jawbone fluttering from his reluctance to answer, he harshly cups your pussy with his hand, causing you to gasp. His sharp, intimidating stare locks with yours, brows tensing as he allows two, thickset fingers to slip down to your slickened opening. His growl fades into a single, drawn out word. 

“Nìfmokx. [jealous]” 

His admission slips past his lips just as his fingers sink into your aching core, leaving your mouth agape and hot tears spilling over your cheeks. Jealousy isn’t an emotion Ralak is used to feeling. Much less something he would subject you to experience with him. But you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, as they flicker from a dark blue to something even deeper. It’s the way his stare bores into your innermost being as he fills you up with his digits alone, telling you that you were his, and his only. 

He hooks his fingers right into your gummy walls, holding his position as he moves his hand in an up and down motion at full tilt. The tips of his fingers repeatedly slam into your swelling sweet spot, coaxing out broken, filthy noises from your throat. He hums with pride, yet his face remains stone cold, minus the occasional twitch of his jawbone. He’s trying so hard to keep at a steady pace, and not to be too rough with your fragility. 

“Oh f-fuck.” You curse under your breath, both hands grabbing a firm hold of his forearm. You’ve been unintentionally edging yourself all day that you’re already almost there. And no matter how hard you squeeze and claw at his now-veiny arm, he remains unmoving. 

“Go on, then.” He huffs impatiently as he looks down at you, feeling your walls clamp down on his fingers. Your heels sink into the bed when you push your hips into the air, fingernails digging into his skin as you near your first release. You begin to whimper, bucking your hips to chase the feeling of relief. It’s right there. It’s so close; and you just need to allow it to wash through you. You tense up so badly your whole body shakes, sending your teeth chattering and your bottom lip quivering. You swear you can see the stars from the night sky litter your vision and feel your heavy lids flutter shut.

“Look at me.” Ralak demands in a sharp, gruff tone. Your glossy eyes shoot back up to his, and you start to sputter out whatever gibberish comes from your mouth — a few curses mixed with his name and your fathers’ mother-tongue. He continues to glare down at you with a rigid face, tensing his jaw as he wills himself to be gentle and patient with you. “Good. Now cum, little one.” 

Your pathetic noises suddenly fade into a sweet, little cry. A cry of relief when your frustration washes away as you finally come undone on his fingers. The alleviation is so intense that it’s almost consuming; “T-Thank—” you collapse back down onto the bed, “—you. Thank you—haah, thank you karyu.” You pant repeatedly, his forearm ripping from your grip when he unexpectedly wrenches his fingers out of you. You squirm from the sudden emptiness, “Wait—” 

“Do not thank.” He spits the accented words as he stumbles back to create some distance between the two of you. He pants as he attempts to recollect himself, his face of stone finally screwing into something of a grimace. “So…if another na’vi found you, would you thank him too? Hm?”

“Lak. I… N-No.” You stutter, unsure of what to even say. 

“You are mine. My mate…” he growls through thinned lips, “My duty. Understand?” 

“Yes.” You nod quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. It arouses you to see him so jealous. So possessive. So assertive. 

Ralak slams his eyes shut and gulps so hard it’s audible —visible even. You could see the bump in the column of his throat quickly undulate, his chest heaving harshly and his shoulders dramatically rising and falling with each breath he struggles to take. And for a while, there’s nothing but silence and his heavy breathing that you feel the overwhelming need to break it. 

“Ralak.” 

Your trembling, tiny voice snapping his head back up to you, once tightly closed eyes now flying open to reveal the most beautiful shade of mauve. They pierce into you like a spear through an unsuspecting prey, full of nothing but pure, unadulterated greed. 

You never thought you’d see them again except in that vision. You get lost in them for a little, studying how the gold ring around his blown pupils still remains even in a sea of indigo. 

You sense that he’s in the thick of his rut now and you need to relieve him soon, like he did for you. Or only Eywa knows what will happen. You allow yourself to finally take in the man before you in full, eyes trailing down his sweaty, muscular physique — perfectly carved v-lines and six fingered tattoo — until they land on his aching cock. 

Oh, fuck. Is he bigger? You think, admiring his mushroomy head and erect spikes. It’s oozing and dripping, unable to keep still from how hard it’s pulsing. It’s at least an inch bigger than usual. 

You look away to study his facial expression and by the way he’s looking at you, you can tell he’s waiting for your command, trying his hardest to prevent himself from pouncing on you and fucking you senseless right here and now. You’ve never seen him this way before. Straining so hard to keep himself in one position and struggling to keep his hands to himself. 

“Ralak… More.” You spread your legs as wide as they can go, holding them apart by the bend of your knees, exposing yourself completely. His heavy lidded eyes widen almost as much as your legs, pointed ears flicking upwards in excitement when he sees you assume such a vulnerable and submissive position. 

“Y/n.” He groans, voice thick with arousal and want and maybe a little desperation as he takes in the sweet sight of your still-pulsing and swollen clit poking out between your folds. “I am… losing control.”

Hearing your name fall from his lips in this way — this tone, instantaneously reignites the flame in your core. In seconds your slit is practically dripping, forming a pool of your slick underneath you. “Good.” You pant as you stare up into his slit-like pupils. You swallow quickly before mustering up the courage to invite the beast in. “Now…remind me who I belong to.”

How could he resist now? 

With the way you’re talking and your pheromones so pungent that they fill his lungs to the brim with no space for any other option but to fall into the thick of his rut. Before you can formulate another thought in your foggy state, Ralak has your legs pinned back and is diving nose first into your cunt. 

He wastes no time to have his fill of you, lapping up your juices so desperately your body moves from the force of his licks. He has been wanting to taste you ever since you made a mess on his fingers, fuck — ever since he got a whiff of your scent from outside his marui door, but denied himself the pleasure in the case he couldn’t stop himself from going any further. But now, all restraint and denial is now left out at that very door. 

The flat of his tongue trails up your inner thigh and then back to your folds, tasting a mixture of the sweetness of your slick and the saltiness of your sweat. He groans when his tongue finally grazes past your clit, feeling it throb against his taste buds. He lingers there for a while, swirling and sucking on you until he unlatches to come up for a quick breath of air. 

“Fucking ftxìlor [delicious].” He gasps out a curse, shoving your legs even further back to have seconds of his meal. 

It becomes evident that he’s doing this for himself. Because if he were doing this solely for you, he would have made you cum by now. He’s eating you out as if he’s been starved for weeks, sucking and popping off your clit just to lap up the sweet, sticky nectar seeping from your hole just to coat his tongue. 

He’s nowhere near as quiet as he usually is, grunting and groaning as he swallows your juices. His fingernails dig into your thighs as he tries to keep himself from being too rough with your tiny, dainty body. But, his attempts prove to be futile once you feel your hips lift off the ground from his grip tightening around your thighs. You stare at the sight of your mate between your legs, crinkling his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut as he can’t stop himself from indulging in his urges. 

“Fuck me!” You let out a frustrated moan, your heat having you so on edge you need to cum again. 

His eyes fly open, and within moments he’s tucked under your hips, pelvises flush together as he rests his throbbing, neglected cock between your folds. His tip touches your belly button with ease, beads of precum oozing out of his slit one after the next. 

“This is what you want, yes?” He bucks his hips into you, the tip of his cock smearing his slick all over your deep blue skin. 

“Fuck, yes.” You whisper shakily, chin meeting your chest to look at the masterpiece he’s painting on you. “I want my mates cock.”

He only responds with a rough growl, flipping you over and pushing you onto your stomach.

“Oh shit.” You mutter under your breath, a little afraid of what you’ve gotten yourself into. But you trust Ralak. 

You know that even in rut he would never hurt you. Not intentionally, at least. Of course this is not to say that he would be gentle —you expect that anything but.

With a firm hand to your upper back, his body is pressed against yours and his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He breathes in deeply through his nose, holding it in his lungs, and then letting out a hot, shaky breath against your skin, finally allowing himself to really take in your scent. 

He almost becomes drunk off it— at least it feels that way for him. Your scent has him feeling like he’s downed two full bottles of fermented fruit with no chasers in between and he simply can’t get enough of it. 

Hand moving swiftly from your back to your head, he pins your face to the bed as he trails his tongue along your jawbone to the nape of your neck. He lingers a little longer than he can help, suckling on and grazing his pointed canines against the skin. It sends shivers down your spine until your tail curls into the air and back arches in complete submission. You push back into him, feeling his hardened length pressed between the swell of your ass and base of your tail. 

Fuck, you just want it inside you already. 

“Lifting your tail for me, hm?” He huffs, puckering his lips against your skin and suckling tenderly. You can feel the emptiness creep back in, and that maddening itch deep in your womb. You moan softly, like a low hum under your breath, which only riles him up more. He feels like he wants to make you his all over again.

To mate with you. 

To mark you as his in every way so that no other man would even dare look your way. Without warning, Ralak pushes up off you, his sinewy arms caging you in with one hand binding your wrists and the other keeping your head pinned to the bed. His legs hold yours down, his knees locking your ankles in place. 

“You belong to me.” He growls next to your ear, his hand abruptly leaving your head to reach for the base of his skull for his kuru. With a quick tug, he brings it over his shoulder and pops it into his mouth to hold with his teeth. He reaches for your kuru that lies innocently in the dip of your back, and brings it towards his mouth.  

A wave of anxiety washes over you when the image of Ka’ani finding you earlier in your own mess flashes before you. You can’t help but wonder if he would see that if he made tsaheylu right now. Imagine how he’d react when he realizes Ka’ani saw you naked and covered in slick? Your body squirmed at the mere thought, only making Ralak tighten his grip on you. 

“Wait!” Is all you could blubber out before you feel the connection —the bond. Your eyes bulge when you feel him surge through you, two minds becoming one. It takes you by surprise, he’s never one to hastily or unexpectedly make tsaheylu with you. But tonight he makes the bond as if you were a tsurak to be tamed. 

What he sees next drives him further into his territorial urges — your interaction with Ka’ani. The way Ka’ani barged into his home. How he saw your naked, vulnerable body. The fear that you felt when another man invaded your space. When he helped you. Innocently touched you. 

“He touched you.” He says between pants, a mixture of emotions washing over him all at once. But the sharp pang of your heat transferring through tsaheylu has him entirely succumbing to his own urges and carnal instincts. 

He’s simply not there. 

His hips start bucking uncontrollably and his cock is poking and prodding at your puffy folds. The crown of his cock jabs at your clit a few times before finally parting your folds and with a quick snap of his hips he’s probing your entrance. 

It stings when his swollen cockhead breaks past the resistance of your tightness, and he can’t help but lay hold of your hip and hiss from how tiny you feel. This is the first he’s ever had his cock stuffed inside a pussy during his rut. The feeling is all-consuming and he unapologetically yearns for more.  

Hips snapping back, he pops his cockhead out of you only to shove it back in again. And again. And again until he’s repeatedly using your tight, little hole as nothing more than a fucktoy for his own self pleasure. 

He leans back to take in the hazy sight, admiring the way your hole stretches perfectly to accommodate the sheer thickness of his cock. And when he sees the mushroomy part of his head slowly emerge he can’t help the way his hips stutter just to sink it back inside you. 

It’s torturous, not having all of him inside you when that’s what your body is pining for most. He’s so much bigger than normal and you know that this is an itch that only he can scratch. “God—” You whine the foreign word, “—just fuck me already!” 

“Agh. Quiet.” He lets out an irritated grunt, both hands flying to your hips to shove you down onto his cock — a loud, audible smack permeating the air when your sticky pelvises collide. 

It almost overpowers the hoarse yet piercing cry that escapes your quivering lips. You’re so tender that the sudden stretch is too intense and with no time to adjust to his size you find yourself shuddering like you did after he took your innocence —your virginity. 

His head dips back in ecstasy just when his tip kisses your cervix, his eyes screwed shut as he tries not to spray his seed inside your womb right now. His fingers sink into your skin, surely leaving bruises behind that will last for weeks. 

“Hngh — woman.” He groans longingly, dropping his head forward and opening his ineberated eyes to witness how your cunt is sucking in every single inch of his cock with glee. 

He grinds himself inside you, tugging at your hips and pushing against the resistance as if he were trying to stuff more of his cock inside you. Your high-pitched shrill fades out into a pathetic little whimper, your wobbly elbows and knees struggling to keep you up.

It’s all too much and your fucked out mind goes blank. You can’t even process how your body is submitting to its owner and his rough touches, opening itself up to be bred already. You sense what’s coming next. Your back bows, elbows and knees burying into the softness of the bed as you try to ground yourself for Ralak to use you for his own relief. 

He does exactly that— hunching over you and shuffling his knees closer so he can gain more leverage to fuck into your slippery cunt. He puts all his weight on you, his fingernails almost piercing your skin when he begins rutting into you like his life depends on it. 

He sets a merciless pace right off the bat, pounding into you as if he were angry with you. He huffs and puffs from trying to catch his breath but fails because he can’t stop himself from humping at you. His body won’t let him, not until he’s ensured you're full with his seed and will bear his child. 

Hands quickly leaving your hips, he grabs your wrists, binding them together once more and the other grips your kuru and yanks it back. Your neck is exposed and your mouth hangs agape as you’re given no other choice but to take the jackhammering of your life. He’s never fucked you so hard or fast and perhaps it’s the haze of your heat but you just want more of him. 

“F-Fuck. FuckFuckFuckmeFuckme— yes!” You beg deliriously, pushing yourself back onto him. You can feel the way his cock is bulging from your lower stomach, but you couldn’t care less because you just want it even deeper inside you. Fuck, it hurts even but it feels so good that you can’t stop begging for more. “Deeper — oh, yesyesyes!” 

Ralaks groans become drawn out and he’s burying his hot face into the crook of your neck as his pulsing tip bullies its way past your cervix. It’s like white hot pleasure surging through your entire being and it has you so lightheaded you may actually pass out before he’s finished with you. 

His cock heats up inside your cunt, becoming so veiny you could practically feel each vein press against your gummy, slimy walls. He’s now panting open mouthed against your throat, his tongue darting out to lick your skin. He shoves your head down so he can access the back of your neck—a hot spot for your pheromones— and grazes his canines against you. Every fiber of his being is urging him to sink them into your skin and see if you taste as good as you smell. His fangs throb in his mouth at the mere thought, his hot saliva dripping off their length and down your neck. 

You’re so overwhelmed and overstimulated that you can’t form a coherent thought much less process the fact that you’re quickly nearing your climax. It’s as if you’ve surrendered all control over your body to him and he’s dictating what happens next. Your pussy walls tighten around him so much it aches and he outright whimpers. 

“Sst-ah.” He pulls away from your neck and slams his eyes shut, grimacing from the way your cunt is gripping his cock. At this point you’re so on edge that you’re just pinching him, locking him inside you and almost cutting off his blood supply. It’s more than painful for him, and he becomes peeved that you won’t ease up. 

Irritated, he aggressively slams himself into you so that you stop with your pathetic little pinching, but all that does is tip you over the edge. Next thing you know your cunt is helplessly fluttering around his cock and your pussy juices are trickling down your thighs.

“Mmm-fuck I’m cumming!” You moan the words so quickly they jumble together, “Cu-cumming! Cumming!”  

You throbbing around him has his eyes rolling into the back of his head but the more your body convulses underneath him the more he grows frustrated with you. How could such a little thing put on such a big performance? Why won’t you just stay still?

So he thrusts. And thrusts. And thrusts. 

Taming you in the only way his body knows how. Fucking into you without mercy or sympathy. He lets out a hiss, the first he’s ever directed your way, and tightens his grip. “Keep…” He pulls out of you until only the tip is left inside, “...still.” Ralak’s deep voice rumbles next to your ear as he slams every inch cock into your cunt, the mere force of his thrust almost knocking you onto your stomach. You let out a broken whimper, coming down from your high and already feeling the coil in your stomach wind and heat up again. 

“Haa—‘nna…make you swell.” He groans the fragmented sentence like a dying man, grinding so deeply inside you that his swollen balls rub against your puffed up clit. Your bruised cervix feels so good against his cock as he uses it to massage the most sensitive part of his tip. 

Experiencing nothing but absolute rapture, Ralaks head slumps into the crook of your neck, where he’s flooded by your scent. He only grinds harder. And harder, until he’s panting like a viperwolf against your skin.

“Fuck — please…” You beg through a shaky whisper, trying to free your hands from his undying grip, “I j-ust c-came.” 

He’s just so fucking big and deep that he’s touching parts of you that have never touched before, and he’s only getting more aggressive the more you push away his advances. Right now, you’re just a squirming, noisy bitch in heat that needs to be put in her place. To surrender and submit. And the pheromones wafting up his nostrils only drive him further into his bestial urges to claim you as his.

His teeth and gums throb in his mouth once more when the urge to mark you as his becomes indubitable. Much like the urge to keep you still enough to make you into a vessel for his seed. He indulges himself, yanking your head back to expose the bend of your shoulder. He hovers open mouthed over your flawless skin and gives you a kitten lick before ruthlessly marking you. 

Your eyes bulge and pupils constrict into nothing but dots when you feel his lengthy fangs plunge into your flesh. The wail evading your throat is deafening and only gets higher when you feel your shoulder set ablaze. His jaw locks into place and he holds you still as he incessantly claims you as his in more ways than just marking. Your eyes start to water and your body stiffens when you feel it. 

He’s bulging inside you. 

Stretching you out until your shoulder isn’t the only part of you on fire. You lash around, clawing at whatever’s in your way until your nails are dull but the more you move the more it burns. “Y-You’re getting bigger inside me!” You release a high pitched squeal, your elbows and knees finally collapsing under you. Now all his weight is on top of you, pinning you flat to the bed with nowhere for you to go. He begins groaning low and deep, drawing it out until it turns into a depraved growl. It feels as if he’s swelling inside you, as if he were doubling in size. As if he were — oh fuck. 

“You’re — you’re knotting me, lak!” You yell when you come to the realisation. It feels like there’s two of him inside you, stretching you to unfathomable lengths. Despite your continuous attempts to get him to let up, he continues to bulge inside you. “You’re knotting me.” You repeat the words in a weakened, croaky voice of defeat, finally giving in and accepting your fate. 

Riding out his high, his hips stutter out of his control — a familiar sensation now flooding your core. A rush of warmth inside you. It’s his hot seed pumping inside you, his cock thumping with each spurt. He groans and moans until you’re so overloaded with his cum it begins to drip down your thighs and mix with yours. 

He unlatches from your shoulder, lapping at the wound to prevent it from bleeding too badly. He plants a few rough kisses on the double crescent shaped mark and works them up to the lobe of your ear. He’s panting and sweating and he can feel the fog lifting now that he’s had his release. “‘m sorry.” He mumbles between wet kisses, now trailing them back down to the fresh wound to lap at it some more. “‘m sorry.”

“Ralak, I-I” You stutter, overloaded with all these new sensations. It’s burning worse than a hellfire wasp sting but at the same time it’s everything your body hungers for. “Haah.. it-it hurts” You whimper quietly, looking behind you to see the most inebriated eyes you’ve ever seen on this man’s face stare back at you. He releases his pheromones to help your body calm down and feel less pain, ultimately scenting you all together.  

“Mawey.” Ralak huffs, trying his hardest to stay still now that he’s quickly coming to the realisation that he’s knotted and marked you in one go. “Doing… so well, tahnì.” He tries to praise you but truthfully he’s still in and out of it, dazing off when he feels the occasional throb of your walls. 

“Am I? Am I helping you too, lak?” You ask in a surprisingly optimistic tone, proud that you were able to do what you were told was unmanageable. He musters out a nod, grunting as he finishes emptying himself in your womb. 

Feeling some level of sense and rationality, you ask him a question that’s been on your mind. “I’m going to get pregnant, aren’t I?”

“Mm.” He hums, nodding his head as he nuzzles himself into the dip of your shoulder, inhaling your seeping scent. 

“Is that what you w-want?” Your breath hitches as you flinch from his cheek resting on your shoulder.

“Mm.” Another grunt, followed by an unexpected, fervid thrust — his body answering your question on his behalf by ensuring every last drop of his essence is inside your fertile womb. 

You focus on steadying your breathing now that you’ve gotten your answer. 

“Irayo, muntxate [thank you, wife].” He says weakly, finally rolling you both onto your sides for some much needed rest. You chuckle. A weak one, but a chuckle nonetheless, and repeat his own words back to him.

“Do not thank.” You say with a smile, getting yourself as comfortable as you can for the long night ahead. 

—— 

[geminiwritten]

undercover ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you have to go undercover as butcher’s wife to vought’s annual supe celebration - prompt (that i don’t remember where i saw it, i’m sorry!): “I bet you one hundred dollars that you’re hard right now.” *he stands up and drops $100 on the table*

notes: i wrote this in one day and you can tell!!! it’s so rushed, i’m so sorry, but also i’m just hot for this man and refuse to stop??? let me know what you think!

warnings: swearing, very small alcohol consumption, very light smut, and a bit of harassment from an unwelcome dude

word count: 6496

“You have a thing for Butcher?” Hughie gasps, the apartment door swinging open as he steps inside.

Annie’s eyes grow wide, her hand covering her mouth to try and hide her cheeky smile. You scowl at her before turning to Hughie, his face a comical mixture of disgust and amusement.

“What have I said about eavesdropping on movie night, Hubert?” you demand, calling him by the stupid nickname you know he hates.

He rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I texted Annie to say I was on my way home. It’s not my fault you’re practically shouting about the fact that you want to fu-”

“Hughie,” Annie giggles, “be careful.”

“Hey,” he says, turning to her, “I’m just repeating what I heard.”

You hold your face in your hands and groan, sinking back into the soft couch cushions and praying that they might open up and swallow you into a different dimension.

“I’m sorry,” Annie sighs, “I honestly just lost track of time.”

Hughie drops his keys and wallet on the kitchen bench alongside two plastic bags that wreak of cheap Chinese food. Your stomach grumbles at the smell, and you reluctantly pull yourself off the couch before dragging your feet toward the kitchen.

“So,” Hughie says with a grin, “how long has this been going on then?”

“Nothing is going on,” you state, “and it’s certainly none of your business.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone,” he begins helping you unpack the bags of food, “besides, I had a sneaking suspicion. You do kind of look at him like-”

You pull a butterknife out of the draw and point it at him, “Like what?”

He freezes, his hands flying up on either side of his head in surrender.

Annie laughs again, “Okay, you two, cut it out.”

You put the knife down and retrieve three full sets of cutlery before setting a stack of bowls beside the containers of food. Hughie serves himself first before Annie fills her own bowl and you last, already shovelling mouthfuls of noodles into your mouth as you move back toward the couch.

“You know,” Hughie says between mouthfuls, “if you wanted to talk about it, I might be able to help.”

You scoff, “Yeah? How?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, talk to him.”

“And say what?” you drop your fork into your bowl, mocking Hughie’s voice as you say, “Hey Butcher, do you think Y/N is hot, because I know she dreams about fucking you.”

He scowls at you, “I can be subtle.”

Annie giggles, hiding her face behind her bowl as Hughie casts his glare toward her.

“I appreciate your concern, Hughie,” you say, “but I think I’ll just stick to fantasising about him in the shower.”

His expression morphs into disgust as he begins choking on his mouthful of food, his face turning bright red. Annie’s laughter fills the room, and you join her while Hughie struggles to compose himself.

To your surprise, and relief, Hughie agrees to keep your little secret to himself. He doesn’t even make a stupid face the next day when the three of you arrive at the boys’ current hideout, finding MM, Frenchie, Kimiko, and the man himself huddled around the dining room table.

“Righ’ on time,” Butcher says with a grin, “let’s get to it, then.”

You knew he was excited about this next mission, if you could call it that. Everyone was, in fact, because thanks to Annie’s excellent intel, you were all attending Vought’s annual ball. A night of celebration to thank the mighty Supes for keeping the streets safe, or as Butcher liked to call it, Vought’s annual wank-fest.

“Your invitations are all sorted,” Annie says, pulling a small handful of envelopes out of her bag. “Hughie came up with all your aliases, so please stick to them, or you’ll be kicked out in a heartbeat. Security is tough at this thing, and there’ll be no talking yourselves out of a bad situation.”

She looks pointedly at Butcher, but his smirk only widens.

“Frenchie,” Hughie says, “you’re going as a member of the tech team, so you’ll be behind the scenes and keeping an eye on the cameras for anything suspicious.”

Frenchie rubs his hands together excitedly, taking the envelope from Annie and tearing it open.

“Monsieur Felipe Lavigne, senior security technician,” he announces, reading the ID card aloud.

“MM and Kimiko, you’ll be with me,” Hughie goes on, “we’ll be posing as press on behalf of the city council. There’s a huge group of council members and associates, so all we have to do is blend in.”

MM takes two envelopes and passes one to Kimiko.

Hughie turns to you, “I originally had you listed as press too, but then decided it might be smart to double down on Butcher’s alias, give him another level of cover, you know?”

You frown, tilting your head sceptically as he hands you and Butcher an envelope each.

“You’ll be attending as prospective stakeholders, invited by corporate to bask in the glory of Vought in the hopes that you’ll invest in their cause,” Hughie explains. “An affluent couple from upstate New York, recently immigrated from Britain after growing bored of your rich English lifestyle.”

You’re almost positive your brows have reached your hairline as you stare at the envelope in your hands, your trembling fingers struggling to pull the ID badge out.

“Brooklyn Williams,” you read aloud.

Annie shoots Hughie a look, promising that he would be paying for this later, and you realise that he must have made this decision in the past twelve hours without consulting her.

“William Williams,” Butcher says, frowning at Hughie, “really?”

Despite being the target of several unhappy stares, Hughie chuckles.

Frenchie snickers too, “At least you will not forget it, eh?”

“Smart move, Hughie,” MM speaks up, “Butcher is the one most likely to be caught, but with Y/N in tow, he might think twice about putting himself in danger.”

Butcher rolls his eyes, “Do none of you ‘ave any faith in me?”

Hughie, Frenchie, and MM respond in unison, “No.”

The seven of you spend the next two hours going over the details of your aliases and the agenda of the function. It’s going to be a huge event, which meant little risk of actually running into Homelander or anyone who might recognise any of you. Annie won’t be able to help on the night, being one of the spotlight attendees, but that isn’t what’s was making you nervous. You’re going to have to spend a good five hours pretending to be married to Butcher, the one man you desperately want and the one man you were trying very hard not to fall in love with.

After what feels like forever, Frenchie announces that he is going to get dinner and Annie bids you all goodbye to check in at Vought tower. Hughie sets his laptop up at the desk in the corner of the lounge room while MM excuses himself for his nightly facetime call with Janine.

Kimiko turns to you, signing a question about what you were all going to wear on the night.

“Annie helped me organise some things,” you reply, gesturing toward the suitcase by the door. “You should try it on now, and if you don’t like it we can find something else.”

You know Kimiko isn’t a fan of cocktail attire, and you definitely didn’t want her walking into the dragon’s den worrying about the way she looked or if she’d be able to fight should the need arise.

“What ‘bout me, love?” Butcher asks, his signature smirk curling the corner of his lips.

Your cheeks burn under his gaze, “You don’t get a choice, you’ll be wearing a suit.”

He chuckles, “I do love a stubborn woman, must’ve been why I married you.”

Your pulse thrums in your ears, and you fail to think of a sarcastic retort, instead turning away in the hopes that he hasn’t already noticed the bright colour in your cheeks.

Kimiko drops the case on its back with a thud, unzipping it quickly and throwing it open to pull out each of the bagged costumes. There are four suits of various styles with varying accessories, and two dresses. She stands holding the one labelled with her name, dragging the zip right down the middle and revealing the soft black fabric of her dress. It isn’t quite full length, hemmed just below the knee in a pencil skirt style and devoid of any embellishments. A simple black dress with long sleeves, fitted but flexible.

She grins, signing to you that it is perfect and thanking you for not putting her in anything ridiculous.

“We chose two pairs of shoes too,” you say, “in case you don’t want to wear the heels.”

Butcher strides toward the suitcase and picks up the last bag, but you follow him, quickly snatching it out of his hands before he can pull the zip.

“My dress can wait until the night,” you hold it behind your back for good measure, “I’m still not sure about it.”

He quirks one brow, “You’re not wearin’ latex, are ya?”

You roll your eyes before turning on your heel, taking your dress into your room and tucking it into the back of your closet. You fall back on your bed, your chest rising and falling with deep breaths as you try to calm your erratic pulse. It’s just one night, you can hold it together for one night, right?

The next two days pass in a blur of preparations and planning, and before you know it, you’re staring at the dress hanging in your closet with a towel wrapped around your body. Your hair is clean and curled, pulled into a half up do with twisted gold pins creating the illusion of diadem just below the crown of your head. You took a little longer to do your makeup than usual, out of practice in the art of winged eyeliner and false lashes, but in the end, you were proud. Now, the dress.

Your fingers are numb as you pull the zipper down, revealing the red silk material of the gown that Annie convinced you would be a good idea. You blame her for this just as much as Hughie.

“Come on, Y/N,” MM calls through your bedroom door, “we have to go.”

You sigh and throw your towel aside, hurriedly pulling the dress off its hanger. The material is cool against your skin, sliding easily over your curves and fitting your body like a tailor-made glove. You twist awkwardly to secure the zip before turning to the mirror.

The dress is floor length, a few inches of the red silk pooling at your feet, with a long slit reaching scandalously up to your left hip. The straps are about an inch thick, and the neck cowled, showcasing your breasts and the perfect amount cleavage. The silk hugs your torso, and you’re a little startled at just how good you feel in this dress.

Another knock at the door has you rushing to slip into your beige heels, and you check that your underwear are pulled high enough to not be seen in the slit of the dress before opening the door. MM’s jaw drops.

“Holy shit, Y/N.”

You blush, “Thanks.”

Being the gentleman he is, he tears his eyes away from you, offering you his arm with a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

In the lounge room, Kimiko is helping Frenchie with his tie and Hughie is struggling to secure his suspenders to his trousers. Your breath catches when your eyes land on Butcher, dressed in a classic and perfectly fitted black tux. He has even trimmed his beard and styled his hair, still a little dishevelled but holy shit, does the sight of him make your mouth water.

“Damn,” Hughie says when he sees you, “nice dress.”

“Nice suspenders.”

He chuckles, “Are we ready?”

Butcher turns to you, his jaw going slack and his eyes dark. Your chest squeezes, your lungs struggling to draw enough breath as your head spins from the lack of oxygen.

“Ready,” MM says beside you.

“Good,” Hughie tucks his ID badge into his shirt pocket, “I’ve organised two cars, one for Y/N and Butcher, and the other for the rest of us. Once we’re there, we can’t slip up, keep your masks up and don’t even look at anyone you think might recognise you.”

You check your small black clutch for your ID badge and phone.

“Earpieces are too risky tonight,” he continues, “so keep your phones on you, and if one of us is out, we all abort.”

Kimiko checks her own purse and the boys check their pockets before you all shuffle out the door. Hughie, MM, Frenchie, and Kimiko exit the building first, leaving you and Butcher alone in the lobby.

“You ready, sweethear’?” he asks, gazing at you with the same dark eyes as before.

You nod, “As I’ll ever be.”

After a minute, you exit the apartment and climb into the awaiting car. Butcher greets the driver as the car pulls away from the curb, and you take the chance to pull your phone out, typing out a quick message to Hughie.

‘I’m going to kill you.’

Your phone pings before you can put it away, and you quickly turn it to silent before reading his reply.

‘You’re welcome ;)’

A warm hand on your bare legs startles you, the heat sinking into your blood and making it sizzle through your veins.

“You sure you’re alrigh’?” Butcher asks.

“Yeah,” you mutter, “just nervous.”

His thumb rubs soft circles on your thigh, sending shockwaves of desire right to your core.

“Nothin’ to be worried ‘bout, love, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes almost roll back in your head at the sound of his deep voice. He truly does not know how much he does have you, all of you.

“Thanks, Billy,” you whisper, your voice unsteady.

His eyes don’t leave you for the duration of car ride, and your pulse refuses to settle. Anxiety and desire tangle in your stomach, twisting it into loops and winding the knot in your core even tighter than it already was.

Eventually, the car stops, and you both thank the driver before climbing out. You’re not at the main entrance of the building, but there is still a ridiculous number of security guards standing around, and barriers preventing anyone without an invitation from getting within twenty feet of the door. Butcher wraps an arm around your waist to guide you forward, his warmth shielding you from the cold night air.

“By the way,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you look fuckin’ delectable in that dress.”

Another wave of heat washes through your veins, and it takes every ounce of focus for you to not stumble up the walkway. Two security guards step forward as you both flash your ID badges.

“Mr. and Mrs. Williams,” the guard in front of Butcher says, scanning the barcodes on the badges, “welcome to Vought tower.”

The security guard in front of you is younger than the other, his blonde hair slicked back and his mouth etched into a sleazy smirk as his eyes rake up and down your body. He winks as he steps aside, and Butcher notices, his expression twisting into a scowl.

Just as you reach the doors, Butcher’s hand slips from your waist to your ass, squeezing it as he dips down and plants a hot kiss against your neck.

“Fuckin’ perve,” he mutters, before guiding you through the doors and down the corridor.

Your mouth is dry and your knees wobbly, but you move with practice and manage to appear cool and collected as you step into the huge event room. It’s extravagantly decorated with drapes of sheer fabric hanging from the high ceilings and a huge crystal chandelier in the centre. There are dozens of round tables, all set with fine silver-wear and obnoxious centrepieces made of red and white roses.

“Nice to know where all our money will be going if we decide to invest, darlin’,” Butcher says with a cheeky grin.

You giggle, letting him guide you through the clusters of elegantly dressed attendees toward where you assumed your table would be. You don’t remember ever finding out that piece of information, but you assume either Hughie or Annie told Butcher while you were still reeling about having to play ‘happy couple’ with him.

You listen carefully to snippets of conversations as you pass, waiting for anything interesting to catch your attention. Butcher stops at an empty table and pulls out a chair, you smile in thanks before taking a seat, quickly shuffling forward to avoid flashing everyone due to the ridiculously high split in your dress. Butcher notices though, chuckling to himself as he takes the chair beside you.

Before you can speak, he places a hand on your bare leg and squeezes, knocking every thought right out of your head.

You gasp, “I-It’s hot in here, is it hot in here?”

“I think that’s jus’ you, sweethear’,” he replies with a wink.

The room quickly fills with guests, conversations growing louder and drowning out the soft music playing over the speakers. Eventually, a woman takes the stage and the room falls quiet, listening to her lengthy introduction about how grateful Vought were for this night and how wonderful it is to be able to celebrate America’s finest superheroes. You can barely hear her though, your ears filled with the thrum of your pulse as Butcher’s fingers draw patterns on your leg. Your core aches, and you shift in your seat only to feel the dampness between your legs.

When the room erupts into applause, Butcher’s hand freezes, and you turn to see Homelander striding onto the stage, his hair blinding beneath the bright spotlight.

“Hey,” you whisper, placing a hand on top of Butcher’s, “you okay?”

He turns to you and his scowl relaxes, a soft smile pulling on his lips. “Yeah,” he replies, “I’m good.”

You slip your other hand beneath his, praying that he doesn’t notice how sweaty your palms are as you play with his fingers beneath the table. Although you had started in the hopes of calming him, you find your own sense of relaxation in his touch, focusing on the feeling of his skin as Homelander drawls on about Vought and The Seven.

After what feels like an eternity, he finishes his speech and the room cheers again. The woman returns to the microphone to announce the first course of food before music and conversation fills the air, and you turn your attention toward the centre of the table. Butcher grips your hand as you attempt to move it, entwining his fingers with yours and only allowing one of your hands free.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you two at one of these events before,” the woman beside you says.

She’s older but extremely elegant, with a pendant around her neck that you don’t doubt costs more money than you’ll ever get to see in your bank account.

“We’re new in town,” you reply, your voice very slightly lilted, “just moved from London’s east end, actually.”

“How charming,” she places a hand against her pendant, “I’m Lucille, and this is my husband, Jack.”

The podgy man beside her nods, his cheeks and nose bright red as he guzzles from his glass of champagne.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say, “I’m Brooklyn, and this is my husband, William.”

You cast a glance at Butcher, only to find his eyes already locked on you, sparkling under the soft yellow lights. He has dopey smile on his lips and an emotion you can’t discern floating behind his gaze. Your stomach flips.

“You do make a charming, if you don’t mind my saying,” Lucille says.

You nod, your cheeks tingling with warmth, “Thank you.”

“So,” her husband, Jack, speaks up, his voice gruff, “what brings you here?”

You wait a beat for Butcher to reply, but he only watches you with that same expression.

“To be totally honest with you, I’m not sure,” you reply with a half-hearted laugh, “we have been thinking about investing, but I do wonder why a company of this immensity even needs investors.”

Jack chuckles, “You’ve got that right, seems greedy, doesn’t it?”

Lucille frowns at her husband before turning back to you, “We don’t do it for them, we do it for our grandkids, for their future. In the hopes that they will have a future, a safe one. This world is a nasty place.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” you sigh.

She nods, “That’s why it’s important to protect what you love, and hold on to it.”

Butcher’s hand squeezes yours, making your heart thump violently within your chest. You turn to him and meet his eyes, the fire in your veins blazing with a new intensity and heating every inch of your skin.

“I-If you’ll excuse me,” you stammer, pushing your chair back, “I need to use the bathroom.”

Butcher nods as you stand, and you can hear Lucille strike up new conversation while you weave between the tables toward the exit. Fresh air fills your lungs the moment you reach the foyer, and you pull your phone out of your bag, finding Hughie’s contact name with trembling fingers.

‘If I survive tonight, I WILL kill you.’

You hit send and turn toward the bathroom, almost stumbling when you see the same blonde security guard who had been stationed at the doors.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, his slimy smirk loading the question with innuendo.

“I’m okay,” you reply, “thank you.”

He steps forward before you can move, “You sure? You look a little flustered. Perhaps a step outside might help? It does get awfully hot in here.”

The first spark of fear rattles up your spine.

“I appreciate that, but I just need to use the restroom,” you say.

His smirk doesn’t falter, “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I’d be more than happy to escort you. Can’t have a stunning woman such as yourself wandering the streets alone.”

You force a polite smile onto your face as you step around him and hurry down the corridor toward the bathrooms. With one subtle glance over your shoulder, you see him watching, still standing at the end of the hall looking almost predatory.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, turning sharply into the first stall.

You close the toilet lid and sit on top if it, holding your head in your hands and counting your breaths. After a minute of trying to wrangle your wild thoughts, you decide that Butcher is either a fantastic actor or… in love with you. Your heart aches to agree with the latter, but your brain fights for reason, reminding you that you’re in an incredibly sensitive situation and he is only acting like this to keep up the façade.

You sigh and stand up, panic piercing your chest when you remember the pushy security guard waiting for you in the foyer. You find your phone again, tapping on Butcher’s name and quickly typing out a message.

‘Don’t freak out, I’m totally fine, but I need you to come get me. Foyer.’

You count to thirty before exiting the stall and washing your hands, pleasantly surprised by your reflection in the mirror, aside from the deep red splashed across your cheeks. You walk calmly out of the bathroom and down the corridor, ignoring the spike in your pulse when you see the back of the security guard still standing there.

He turns around at the sound of your footsteps, a smirk curling his lips. “Hey gorgeous, are you-”

“There you are,” Butcher calls, striding toward you.

He wraps an arm around your waist, his hand splayed across your lower back as he presses your body against his. You don’t have time to respond before his lips capture yours. Your knees almost buckle, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as his mouth moves against yours and your mind goes completely blank.

He pulls back ever so slightly, his forehead still touching yours as he whispers, “I missed you.”

The feeling that bubbles in your chest makes your heart want to explode.

“Better get back in there,” he says, carefully releasing you.

You nod, unable to summon a single word as he looks at you like that, his pupils blown and his lips swollen from the kiss. He takes one of your hands in his and pulls you toward the doors before casting a menacing scowl over his shoulder at the security guard.

“Did he touch you?” he asks, his voice low.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Good.”

“Wait,” you tug on his hand before he can walk through the doors.

He frowns as you pull him to the side, into an alcove beneath the grand stairs that lead up to the private rooms above the event hall. He doesn’t resist when you press him against the wall, your hands on his chest and your body covering his. You look up at him through your thick lashes, and you can feel a soft groan rumble through his chest.

“I’m not sure we were convincing enough,” you whisper, before surging up and pressing your lips against his.

His hands hold the back of your head as he tilts his own to deepen the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips and making you whimper. Your ears fill with the erratic thrum of your heart and the soft moans from the man in front of you, making you forget about everything that isn’t him. The fire rushing through your veins collects at your core, burning with need and making you clench as his hands wander down your back to cup your ass.

Time loses all meaning as you tangle your limbs with his, your body throbbing almost painfully. You have to stop yourself from clawing at his clothes, every desire within you craving to tear his suit apart and absolutely devour him.

Eventually, your lungs begin to burn, and the short gasps between kisses aren’t enough to appease them, so you pull away. His pupils are huge, consuming almost all of the colour in his eyes as he studies your face with a small smile.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs.

You open your mouth to tell him the same when someone clears their throat, and you both snap toward the sound. Hughie is standing a few feet away, his ID badge now on a lanyard around his neck and a notebook in his hand. His face looks pained, struggling to contain what would be a hysterical laugh if you weren’t all supposed to be undercover.

You stumble back from Butcher with wide eyes, your mouth trying to form words but no sound comes out.

Butcher straightens his jacket and clears his throat, “Sorry, mate, as you were.”

Hughie takes a deep breath and turns toward the room, and you have to commend him for his self-control.

Butcher looks down at you, “D’you think that was convincing enough?”

You giggle, “Maybe a little too convincing.”

He smirks and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping at the smeared lipstick. You know you must look like a wreck, your makeup smudged and your face blotchy and red, but you don’t care.

“Better get back in there before you get me arrested for public indecency,” he says, taking your hand in his.

You laugh again as he leads you back into the room, guiding you through the throngs of people and toward your table. Lucille greets you with a smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she surveys your flustered state. Butcher sits and shuffles his chair closer to yours before placing a hand on your thigh, much higher than where it was before.

“It’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it?” Lucille whispers to you.

You frown, “What is?”

“That love and passion,” she replies with a grin. “He just adores you, I can tell. Don’t ever let go of what you two have, it’s rare.”

You try to hide your smile, but it’s almost impossible. “I won’t.”

You’re not sure what you’ve missed but you assume it was Annie’s speech as the chatter around you is filled mostly with her name. The woman from before returns to the stage to rave some more, though you don’t bother trying to pay attention. Butcher is watching you with hungry eyes, filling your head with filthy thoughts and absolutely soaking your panties.

“So, Mrs. Williams,” he says, his voice low, “got any plans after this?”

“Not really,” you reply, “but I do think there’s a toy in the top drawer of my dresser calling my name.”

He swallows thickly, “Is that so?”

You nod, “I’m feeling a little wound up.”

“Perhaps I could help you unwind,” he whispers, “think I’d do a better job than that fuckin’ toy.”

“That’s a bold statement, are you sure?”

His fingers dig into your thighs with enough pressure to bruise, making your whole body jolt.

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure.”

His hand slides up your thigh and you part your legs instinctively.

He smirks, “Good girl, so responsive.”

The burning in your core pulses, sending white hot waves of desire up your spine to cloud your mind. His fingers brush the crotch of your panties, barely a touch but enough to make you sigh softly.

“You’re soaked,” he whispers, “so ready for my c-”

Cheers erupt throughout the room, drowning out his voice and startling you out of your stupor. His hand slides back down your leg and his smirk breaks into a devilish grin when you look at him with a scowl.

“Sorry, love,” he says as he retrieves his phone from his jacket pocket.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, drawing steady breaths and trying to focus on anything but the man beside you. He chuckles at his phone before tucking it back into his pocket.

“Was that your mistress?” you tease.

He raises his brows, “Is that jealousy I’m hearin’?”

You slide your hand up his thigh, stopping just below his crotch to squeeze.

“You tell me, do I have anything to be jealous of?”

His voice is almost a groan, “Never.”

“Good.”

You slide your hand over his crotch, relishing in the way his whole body tenses before you pull back and fold your hands in your own lap. He sighs and takes a generous gulp from his glass of champagne, grimacing at the taste before leaning toward you with an arm over the back of your chair.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that?”

You turn to him, your face barely an inch from his, “Oh, baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

He leans back in his chair, his jaw tense but his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You fond of that dress?” he asks casually.

“This old thing? Nah.”

He nods once, “Good, because I’m goin’ to fuckin’ destroy it.”

The woman sitting on his other side chokes on her mouthful of champagne, casting an abhorrent glare toward the two of you before completely turning her back. You have to swallow your laughter, averting your gaze to your lap as Butcher chuckles quietly.

You feel your purse vibrate at the same time that Butcher reaches for his pocket. You pull your phone out and check the messages, finding several from Hughie.

‘We’re here to WORK, not fornicate.’

‘I just spent five minutes laughing to myself in the toilet.’

‘The shows closing soon, we should leave before the crowds. Unless you and Butcher are busy ;)’

“D’you think you can make it out of here without your knees bucklin’, love?” Butcher asks with a smirk.

You tuck your phone away and twist in your chair so that your legs are toward him, parting them slowly. The red silk slides against your skin and the split opens with your legs. Butcher’s gaze drops, his whole face turning red as his eyes grow wide.

“I bet you a hundred dollars that you’re rock hard right now,” you whisper, leaning forward.

His jaw twitches as his gaze moves to your chest, and you smirk before twisting toward Lucille.

“We’re going to duck out before the masses, but it was lovely meeting you,” you say, “and best wishes to your grandkids. They’re lucky to have such incredible grandparents.”

She smiles at you, her eyes watery, “It was lovely meeting you too, dear.”

Her husband grumbles a farewell and you smile politely at the rest of the table who you hadn’t bothered to meet before turning back to Butcher expectantly. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the way he shifts in his seat.

“Pleasure meeting you,” he nods toward Lucille and Jack.

He pushes his chair back and stands up, drawing a hand out of his pocket and dropping two fifty dollar bills onto the table before stepping back. A grin breaks across your face as you snatch the money and stand up, taking Butcher’s outstretched hand and letting him lead you out of the room. You almost stumble at the pace at which he drags you through the crowds, not stopping until you’re through the foyer, out the doors, and a good distance from the building’s entrance.

“You owe me,” he growls, yanking on your wrist so that you fall into his arms.

“Take whatever you want,” you whisper, “I’m all yours.”

Another rumble vibrates through his chest, and the knot of anticipation in your stomach twists tighter.

“Good, you’re here,” Hughie calls, his feet slapping against the pavement as he jogs toward you.

Butcher’s hold goes slack, and you take a reluctant step away from him as MM and Kimiko follow a few paces behind Hughie. The cold air nips at your bare skin, making you shiver.

“Where’s Frenchie?” MM asks.

“On his way,” Hughie replies with his phone in his hand, “and the car is close.”

You startle at the feeling of material falling around your shoulders, and glance up as Butcher steps in front of you, his arms guiding his blazer over your trembling body. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him through your thick lashes as his lips curl into a soft smile. He moves back to stand at your side and wraps one arm around you, pulling you against side.

Hughie’s grin is so wide you want to slap it off his face.

“Not a word,” Butcher mutters.

Hughie chuckles, “I didn’t say anything.”

MM is clearly amused, and even Kimiko is giggling when Frenchie comes jogging up behind them.

“Did I miss something?” he asks, his brows raised as he looks from Butcher to you.

“Car’s here,” Hughie announces, and you all step toward the curb.

Hughie climbs in the front seat and greets the driver before texting rapidly on his phone, no doubt messaging Annie to let her know you were all safe and heading home. Kimiko and Frenchie shuffle toward the back of the van, and MM grumbles when neither you nor Butcher volunteer to join them. He squeezes between the two of them on the backseat before Butcher helps you into the van, and you take the single seat behind the passenger as Butcher falls into the last seat behind the driver.

You shrink into his jacket, enveloping yourself in his scent and relishing the warmth that his body had left behind. His eyes don’t leave you for the duration of the trip, studying your face, lingering on your lips, and moving up and down your body over and over again.

The drive feels much longer than it should, but the car finally pulls up outside your apartment block and you all pile out. Frenchie begins rambling about pieces of information he overheard, and MM fills in some of the gaps with snippets that he picked up in the press crowd. You almost feel guilty that you did nothing but dry hump Butcher and chat with an elderly rich woman, but that guilt washes away the moment you step inside the apartment.

“Bed, now,” Butcher tells you, tugging you by your hand toward the master bedroom.

“Y/N,” Hughie calls before you can disappear, “I thought your bedroom was that way.”

You turn to him with a frown, finding that stupid boyish grin stretched across his lips as the rest of the room watches you with amused faces.

“I’m not going to sleep, Hughie,” you say, before turning to Butcher, “I’m not tired.”

You catch a glimpse of his disgusted expression before you turn and rush into Butcher’s bedroom, followed closely by the man himself. His hand catches the collar the jacket and pulls it off of you as you step toward the bed.

“Not tired?” he asks, starting on the top button of his shirt.

You sit on the edge of the bed and kick your heels off. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

In two strides, he’s right in front of you, using his knee to nudge your legs apart so he can stand between them. His eyes trace up your bare leg, stopping where the red material reveals an inch of your black panties, and he sighs.

“So,” you say, leaning back with your hands on the bed, “what do I owe you?”

His self-control snaps and his hands yank at the opening of his shirt, ripping the rest of the buttons apart before he shrugs it off his shoulders. He straddles your hips and pushes you back, his lips assaulting your neck as you writhe beneath him.

“You said, I could take whatever fuckin’ I want,” he mutters against your skin.

You only moan in response and he sinks his teeth into your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise before soothing it with his tongue.

“I’m gon’a take all of you,” he growls, “but first-”

He sits back suddenly, his fingers making quick work of his belt and the fastenings of his trousers.

“I made a promise to this dress,” he finishes, before gripping the material on either side of the slit and ripping it.

You gasp as the silk falls loose around your body, tearing right up to the neck and cleaving the dress apart entirely. His eyes rake over your bare skin as he licks his lips and drops onto his hands to hover over you, grinding his hips down and eliciting another moan from your mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he sighs, “you’re gon’a kill me with those pretty noises, sweethear’.”

“Butcher,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I need you.”

His elbows buckle and his body falls on top of yours as his lips capture yours in a searing kiss.

“You have me,” he murmurs against your mouth, “you’ve got all of me.”

END.

[charliemwrites]

Government Asset Soap! This is half of the last part (the smut got too long and I wanted to post this dammit).

Original concept comes from @ceilidho’s military asset Soap. Further inspiration came from @391780’s Nikto version “The Summons”. Both are very good and you should definitely check out!!

Content: Post-trauma coping, Non-Con Touching and Kissing, Violence (mentioned), Unstable Soap

It’s probably a fire hazard, the candles. They’re sprinkled across your little cabin like fireflies, feeble but steady heartbeats of a home you’re failing to build. Too many of them, likely. Two, sometimes three, per room. Tiny tealights, smokeless soy, scented pine. It would be easier, safer, to just turn on the lamps you foolishly invested in.

You can’t bear anything brighter than golden halogen anymore, though. The glare drags you back to a tiny cell bisected by cruel metal, holding back an even crueler fate. No, you’d much rather wade through pools of shadow and firelight, fire code be damned.

It’s a small cabin, but you’ve already cluttered it up with furniture and rugs, a theme for each room. Yellow and blue for the kitchen. Purple and cream for the den. Green and brown for your bedroom. Nooks to hide in, spaces to squeeze into, big shapes to huddle behind. You’ll never be caught out in a cold, barren room ever again.

Your days are long regardless of the time of year. Get groceries in town every day, making a point to be friendly and seen so that someone might notice if you suddenly stop coming. Clean incessantly, so many surfaces to dust. Pick hobbies like daisies. Knitting and crocheting, different paint styles, felting. You’re contemplating carpentry, would like to build shelves for all the books stacked up in the den. Keep a dream journal by your bed that you neglect for weeks at a time.

You draw out the nights until you can count the hours until dawn on one hand. Stay up baking, making homemade ink, learning new ways to style your hair, anything, anything, anything—

It’s not the sleeping – or at least that’s not the worst of it. It’s the waking.

Laswell suggested a cat.

You told her to stop suggesting pussy to unstable people.

But it’s still not a bad idea. Another living thing to keep you accountable; the plants are pretty and time-consuming, but not good company.

You talk yourself out of it every time, knowing the worst-case scenario. It’s not catastrophizing if it actually happens, and you can feel an invisible time weighing on your shoulders like another gravity. Tick, tick, tick. Heavier, heavier, heavier. It’s hard to breathe beneath the wait.

The military doesn’t do apologies. It does platitudes at best. Well wishes and good intentions are painted in brushstrokes of blood. Victory flags are planted on bodies, living or otherwise. Laswell apologized. She swore that if there had been another way – any other way…

She didn’t promise to leave you alone. Didn’t assure you that you’d never see her or her goons again.

If you thought it would do any good, you’d tip one of the candles over and set it all aflame. Rebirth through fire. But you never did figure yourself for a phoenix. And besides, a phoenix is still itself, even when the ash falls away.

So, you spool out your time like picking at tapestry threads, one thin string at time.

Tonight, it’s bread. Cinnamon chocolate babka, to be specific. You were craving something sweet. Are debating the merits of some sort of cream cheese icing while you shower off the long, ever-busy day.

Have decided on an optimistic why not as you slip out to begin your overly complicated self-care routine. Moisturizers, hair oils, lotion. An unexpected benefit of overloading yourself, you suppose. Even when you first got out of the military, you didn’t take such good care of yourself. You have a jogging route now. You’re handling your trauma every possible way except therapy. (And sleeping.) Better than nothing, you figure.

The candles have gone out in your bedroom. You click your tongue in annoyance, trying to remember where you left the matches this time. Bedside table?

You pad across the soft carpet, using the edge of the bed as a guide in the pitch black. The only other problem with candles is that their humble light doesn’t reach very far. But you know this house and keep the floors tidy enough that you’re confident you won’t trip.

Make it to the nightstand without incident and pat around. Knock the side of your hand into the little carton and only just catch it before it hits the deck. Let out a little huff and start to fumble it open.

“Nice catch, bonnie.”

You gasp, but your voice doesn’t get any farther than the back of your tongue. The box slips from your numb fingers, matchsticks scattering across the floor. He tsks.

“Shame that. We’ll get ‘em later.”

You can’t move. Can barely breathe. You’re just frozen, heart thundering with a sudden storm of fear and confusion. Hands still aloft in front of you, spine rigid, knees locked.

You feel more than hear movement behind you, and then the warmth of his body seeping into your naked skin. Not quite touching. Not yet.

“Missed you, little bird,” he rasps in your ear.

You always thought that in a moment like this you would scream. Kick and elbow and fight, damn your certain loss. But when it comes down to it, survival drowns out all those stupid, haughty ideas about pride and dignity. So you don’t curse and shout like you always fancied you would.

You whisper, “Soap.”

He hums but it sounds like a growl in your panicked state. “Missed me too, aye? You’re already naked fer me.”

His hands are searing when they settle on your waist like they belong there. He pulls you back against him; in the dark he’s bigger, broader than you remember. At least, you think, he’s fully clothed for now.

“What are you… how are you here?” you ask.

He barks a laugh, mean and rough. “Was only a matter of time after that shite they pulled.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and see it recreated in the phosphenes behind your lids.

Soap buried balls deep inside of you, murmuring a constant stream of filth as he got harder and harder inside you. Filling you up as you twitched around him, oversensitive and teary, afraid of what would come next.

Then the lights flashed, flicked red. An alarm sounded, Laswell’s voice ordering Soap away from you. But he just snarled and hunched over you, hips snapping to bury himself right back inside while you cried out.

The locked door swung in, armed guards swarming in. Yanked Soap off you while you scrambled to cover yourself. Someone grabbing your arm none too gently to pull you from the room. Soap wild-eyed and snarling like something possessed, until he was overtaken by struggling guards and you were trembling naked in that damned hallway.

“Was mad at you, at first, cannae lie,” he says, almost conversational. Your eyes snap open, though you know it’ll do you no good. “But I’ve had time to think on it. Wasnae yer fault, was it? Saw them drag you out.”

An awful relief floods you. Fuck dignity, fuck honesty. This is Soap right behind you, completely unrestrained and unsupervised.

“Yeah,” you answer, voice small. “I didn’t know they would do that. What… um. What happened to you?”

He presses his face into your damp hair, pressing closer, snaking his arms to squeeze you against him.

“Sent me off on some shite mission,” he explains, “probably hoped I’d die out there. You smell so good, lass.”

You shiver as his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your neck. Hot, humid.

“And… and then what?” you insist, trying to stall.

You’re not sure what you’re stalling for. There will be no miraculous saves here – not that you really got any last time. It’s not like there’s any real plan to be made here, either. None that you’d be confident enough to risk his wrath on.

“Disappeared. Took care of business. Came to get my pretty little bird.”

A rough hand trails over the curve of your hip, brush the neat curls of your mound. You suck in a breath, hands twitching with the urge to stop him but not sure of putting up resistance when you’re still unsure of his mental state.

“And what about you, hm?” he rumbles. “Been a good girl while I’ve been away?”

His fingers dart down towards your entrance, not nearly prepared for anything. Least of all his thick digits.

“Y-yes!” you yelp, grabbing at his wrist. Relief makes you dizzy when you manage to stop him. “I-I’ve been good. Which means I’m not… I can’t just take you. I need… I need prep.”

He huffs, nips at the tender spot beneath your ear. The thrill that shoots through your stomach is terrifying.

“That’s what these are for, bonnie.”

And to your horror, he starts to push past your resistance like your staying hands aren’t there at all.

“John!”

He freezes. You shudder air into your burning lungs, feeling dizzy on panic.

You can get through this without pain, just think.

“I haven’t even got to see you,” you stutter, voice shaky. Can’t quite inject the disappointment you’re trying for, but hopefully it’ll work. “And I bet you’re all dirty from travel.”

He grumbles. “So what?”

You scramble to think of a satisfactory response. “S-so let’s get reacquainted in the shower, yeah? That way I can see your handsome face, at least.”

He chuckles, grazes his teeth “playfully” across your cheek. “Bossy thing.”

“You like it.”

And to your shock, he agrees with an amused huff. Hauls you up in his arms and walks you back to the still muggy bathroom. You’re set on your feet and spun around, chin jerked up to receive a savage kiss. All tongue and teeth, no finesse. He’s just licking into your mouth, hungry and animalistic, spit dribbling down your chin.

When he finally pulls away, you blink spots from your vision. Finally focus on his smug features and make a soft, horrified noise when you register the splatter of crimson across them.

“Och, that? My little bird had watchers.”

Of course you did. The horror ebbs a bit. Resentment has made you indiscriminately bitter.

“Oh,” you say, “th-thank you. Definitely glad we’re showering first, then.”

“Squeamish?”

You’d like to know when the world turned upside down and John fucking “Soap” MacTavish began teasing you about the blood on his face.

“A bit,” you admit.

“Poor dear,” he coos. “Hard to believe we were made for each other sometimes, aye? Complementary, we are.”

Is that what he thinks? Christ.

You turn to start the shower again, spine prickling with the weight of his eyes on your back. The water rushes down and then he’s crowding you against the cold wall beneath the (thankfully) warm spray.

“Y-you’re still dressed!” you protest between sharp nips to your collarbone.

“Fix it, then,” he snarls.

You claw his shirt up his back, get momentarily distracted by the impressive display of muscle hidden beneath. Draw your palms over his chest and feel him shudder.

“Fuckin’ heavenly, love,” he purrs. “Missed this.”

A vague memory comes back to you, him gripping you close because he felt you naked against him for the first time. Him admitting he hasn’t had affectionate touch in a while.

This… this you could work with.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[pixiesfz]

baby fever j.r

plot: It's about two years into your relationship and you claim you've never had the baby fever....until now

warnings: fluff, short

When you were younger you hated the idea of pregnancy which lead you to the idea that you didn't want children.

But you would always wave to the little kids in the crowd and sign their T-shirts with a smile on your face.

But you still knew that you would never give birth.

The horror stories you had heard or even just thinking about a human growing inside of you made you pale.

You had never had the 'baby fever' that your friends have had.

Until now.

Your older brother had come into town with his wife and little baby boy Thomas.

You always found him cute but he didn't make you weak at the knee's wanting to have children....but this was a certain sight.

You were huddled with Mary and Lauren when you saw the sight, they were still talking about a tackle you had faced in the middle of the game, not noticing your absence in the conversation.

Your head was swiveled towards your girlfriend as she held your nephew, her smile wide on her face as she lifted him up and down, his giggles loud.

"Aw that's so cute" Esme cooed at the sight and you slowly nodded, engaged at the sight.

Jill, your girlfriend or soon-to-be fiancé (your ring for her is still in your sock draw)

Jill your girlfriend with a baby

Jill your smiling girlfriend with a smiling baby.

Your knee's finally felt weak and it was not from the game.

Maybe you did want a baby.

"I'm not sure of what I'm feeling right now" you admitted to the younger girl who smiled "Baby fever" she breathed out "but I've never wanted to give birth" you whispered

Jill was now running around the field with Thomas, catching him when he almost dropped to the floor.

"You don't have to give birth to have a child, there's always adoption," Esme said, her hand on your shoulder before leaving to go have a shower.

Adoption.

You were thinking too much about her words, you didn't see the young boy before he latched onto your leg, "Auntie Y/n!" he cheered "hey Tommy" you smiled, picking him up and settling him into his lap.

"He's fast" Jill smiled, slightly out of breath as he cheered out of satisfaction of out running the girl.

"yeah he is" you spoke "got it from his Auntie" you smirked and he nodded, latching himself more onto you.

You saw Jill's eyes change in emotion and you creased your eyebrows "you okay?" you asked and the girl looked at you "pardon?" she asked "I asked if you were okay?" you said and she nodded "yeah".

"You're really good with kids," she told you as Thomas started to slowly fall asleep on your shoulder "You are too, got him all tired, and now he won't annoy his parents on the way home" you complimented the Dutch girl and you both smiled at each other, almost as if there was an understanding between you both.

"Smile!" A camera man yelled out and you both turned around, Jill wrapping her arm around you, as you made sure Thomas's head was turned around.

"Do I look like I've just played 90 minutes of football?" you asked and Jill laughed "You look pretty" she said and kissed your forehead, from afar you would've looked like a family.

The drive home was quiet but comfortable, your efforts in the game catching up as you grew tired, resting your head on your own shoulder as Jill smiled, looking back at you every now and then.

Jill knew about your hatred of pregnancy and the fear you had of it.

Which is why she was so scared to bring up the thought of children, scared that you would shut her down. She knew she couldn't just let this go, she knew she wanted to raise a child and she couldn't fall in love with you anymore if you didn't

When you checked your phone you smiled, video's of you and Jill with your niece were growing popular as fans commented of how cute it was and you agreed.

You didn't want to give birth but you did want children.

You wanted children with Jill.

The conversation came up after an ad of a little kid playing with toys came up and you had finally cracked, picking up the remote and playing pause on your TV show it was love island btw.

"Have you ever thought about having children with me?" you asked, ripping the band-aid off.

Jill was shocked, dropping her fork into her bowl and swallowing her soup quickly "Uhm" she started and you shrunk back into your seat, immediately regretting your questions.

"Yes I have" she admitted and you let out a breath of air "thank god" you muttered and Jill sat up "I thought you didn't want children?" she asked softly and you crossed your head "I thought so too but when I saw you with Thomas yesterday Esme opened her smart stupid mouth and then I got all smushy and I haven't stopped thinking about it ever since" you admitted and Jill smirked

"Is this why you cried when that little girl came up to you and gave you a hug at the cafe yesterday?"

"shut up" you told her and moved closer to her body "I don't want to give birth" you whispered, scared of her reaction "and I don't expect you too" you said, reassuring her of any thought she had.

"but adoption, adopting a child and giving them a good life, a life they deserve" you listed on, missing the way Jill's eyes glossed over.

"I know some people don't believe in adoption but I want to have children, especially with you" you finished, looking up to see Jill who was smiling and nodding "yeah?" you asked "yes" she said and you brought your hands to her face, wiped away her tears and delicately brought your lips to hers.

Jill moved away "wait this first" she said and ran to your shared room, coming back with her hands behind her back.

"I wanted to do this in a more romantic area but I can't imagine being with you as just your girlfriend for another minute"

Your hands lifted up to your mouth as she revealed the velvet box and lowered down onto one knee.

"Y/n" she started and you nodded your head repeatedly "You couldn' just let me do the romantic speech," she asked you with a laugh,tears now streaming now down both of your faces.

"I have your ring in my sock drawer" you admitted as you leant your foreheads together.

"I guess I got there first".

[beomiracles]

⌞ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 ⌝

DREAM RECALL ⸝⸝ Despite everything, he’s still crying. Shiny droplets rolling down his cheeks almost rhythmically as he pants under you. — Your stomach twists as your attention falls on the dark hues adorning his neck and collarbone. Not only had he fucked her, he’d let her do that to him as well, and he came home wearing it, like some fucking souvenir. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸝⸝

wc -> 2.6k

pairings non idol!yeonjun x fem!reader warnings infidelity, cheater!yeonjun, hurt no comfort, angst, yeonjun cries a lot, handjob, unprotected sex + pullout, meandom!reader, sub!yeonjun, pathetic/desperate yeonjun, nipple play, slapping, degrading, use of "whore", implied marking, big time sad.

#serene adds ✎ I wasn't planning on writing this today but you know the saying of "striking when the iron is hot", well yeah it was practically on fire so I kind of had to. this is not proofread in the slightest oops.

Your usually cozy and warm bedroom feels dark and distant. The air is cold and it causes goosebumps to rise on the naked skin of your arms. Low and hushed sobs fill the dense atmosphere as Yeonjun huddles by your feet. — It was an almost pitiful sight, seeing his disheveled hair, the fat droplets of tears that rolled down his flushed cheeks, bottom lip quivering as he gulped down a breath of air. 

But you did not pity him. In fact, you think you might even hate him. Because when you regard his pathetic frame, trembling hands clawing at the hem of your skirt as his wet face leaves damp spots on the fabric, you feel nothing but disgust. His touch no longer felt warm, nor did it feel comforting. It felt foreign, dirty and tainted with something else, someone else. 

“Please, p-please baby it wasn’t like that!” 

He pleads and he pleads, fingers curling around the flimsy cotton as he tugs himself closer, shuffling on the floor beneath you. A vile grimace darkens your expression as you peer down at him with disdain. — “Get off of me.” 

Yeonjun’s eyes snap up to yours, they’re wide and terrified as he shakes his head. “B-Baby please, you have to believe me!” — Believe him? What an ironic thought indeed. Time and time again, you had believed him, told yourself that you were overreacting, that you were being delusional, that you were a bad girlfriend. You believed him when he told you not to worry about the late nights he worked, about the sudden business meetings, about the team dinners; about the nights you spent alone in bed, foolishly waiting for someone you thought longed to get home to you. 

With the small kick off your heel to his stomach, Yeonjun tumbles back, landing on his ass with a thud and he blinks up at you with teary eyes. “Believe you?” You huff, pulling out your phone as you wave the device in front of him. “Is this what you want me to believe? That this was intended for me, and not that colleague of yours?” 

You watch as his dilated pupils practically explode when they land on the hotel reservation being presented before him, and he audibly swallows. He knows that he’s gotten caught, yet he still tries to lie his way out of it. — It hurts. Not only because he cheated. But because it wasn’t with just anyone. She was special. Yeonjun had never looked at you like that, not once during the three years in which you had been together, the three years in which you had done everything for him. 

Tears threaten to spill down your cheeks and you draw in a shaky breath. He wouldn’t get to see you cry, not anymore and never again. 

“Let’s end things.” 

The statement shouldn’t have taken him by surprise but it seems to have as Yeonjun feebly shakes his head, a loud sob ripping from his throat. “No!” He wails, immediately crawling back to wrap his arms around your legs, pressing his cheek flat against your thighs as he resumes his pitiful crying. — You want to push him off, tell him that he’s disgusting and that you want nothing more to do with him. 

“P-Please..” His voice is hushed, jagged and ruined by him choking on his own tears, “i-it was a mistake I s-swear! I would n-never do that to y-you, I- I love you!” By the end he sounds almost strained, high-pitched and desperate as he clings to you. — Love. What a pathetic emotion. If this was love then you didn’t want it. 

“Do you think shit will be okay just because you said that?” You seethe, fingers curling into fists by your sides as you fight off the urge to kick him off once more. Yeonjun doesn’t say anything, merely hugging himself closer as he cries into your skirt, biting back whimpers as he snivels. — “Do you think I'll forgive you? That I’ll kiss you and tell you that everything is fine?” 

He hiccups at your words, shaking his head shamefully as his fingers twist against the smooth fabric of your clothes. “Is that what you want?” You ask, your voice suddenly shifting into an eerily calm one, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem to pick up on the change as he continues to sob. — “Answer me.” Your demand makes his head jerk up and he hesitates for only a second before he nods, biting his swollen bottom lip carefully. With a small huff you avert your gaze, taking a step back as you shrug him off once more. 

Then you kneel down, the rich carpet is soft under your bare legs and you regard your boyfriend with a look of fabricated sympathy. Yeonjun on the other hand looks wary as he awkwardly swallows, his gaze flitting between your eyes nervously as he exhales. — He lets out a noise of surprise when you suddenly cup his cheek, leaning in to press a small kiss against his wobbling lips. Though he quickly falls into your embrace as he lets your tongue dwell deep inside his waiting mouth, gliding along his own as he whimpers. 

It didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t the same. And you hated it. 

With a small hiss you withdraw, making him look at you with an alarmed expression as he tries to speak, though no words come out. — “On the bed.” Is all you say, your voice suddenly cold and demanding. The subtle shift makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand and Yeonjun scrambles to his feet as he hurries for the bed, gingerly plopping down on the mattress. 

You’re quick to follow behind, looming over his uncertain figure as you study him closely. “Undress.” — “W-What?” His question makes you groan and you reach for the collar of his shirt, yanking the first few buttons open. “This is what you wanted, no? For things to go back to normal, for me to say that it’s all okay.” 

He parts his lips but remains silent, slowly nodding as his hands raise to resume the work you’d started on his sweater. — Once the garment falls from his shoulders, you push him back, making yourself comfortable on his lap as you straddle him. He looks confused, but there’s an undeniable glimmer of hope flickering behind his eyes as you reach for your own blouse, slowly pulling it over your head. 

“You want to pretend like nothing’s ever happened?” You wonder as you lean forward, the tip of your finger resting on his chin and Yeonjun nods. He was so used to you complying, used to you believing him, he had grown comfortable with your naivety. And now you were paying the price for it. — “Yeah? You want to pretend like you never fucked that woman?” — His face falls at the statement and he immediately objects, just like you had expected him to. “Baby I didn’t I swear, it’s a misunderstanding you have to believe-” 

Smack! 

The slap echoes through the air and Yeonjun’s rant immediately cuts short as his eyes blow wide. Your hand stings but you ignore it, instead focusing on the red mark blooming across his cheek, satisfaction beating within your chest. — “You fucking liar.” Your voice is close to breaking but you don’t care. Thumb and index finger digging into his cheeks as he tries shaking his head, as he tries denying the blatant truth once more. 

Tears spill from his eyes yet again, his nose becoming stuffed as he fights to inhale through it. You pay him little mind, your hand wandering down his stomach until you reach the hem of his pants. A final glance his way shows that he’s both anticipating and fearful of your next move, his body squirming under you as he tries to make sense of the situation. 

He gasps when your fingers wrap around his semi-erect cock, working quickly to get him hard as you pull back to spit on your hand. “Probably won’t be as good as your previous fuck I fear”, you mutter as your thumb rubs his tip harshly, making him whine as his hips buck. — The wet streaks on his cheek have yet to stop and he continues to sob, mindlessly shaking his head as small hiccups of “no’s” and “wasn’t like that”, leaves his lips. 

“No I bet it wasn’t”, you drawl, pulling him from his briefs as you lean back to work your hand along his throbbing cock. “I bet it was just a mistake”, you sigh, slowing down momentarily as your gaze shifts to his face. Yeonjun’s eyes are wide as he stares up at the ceiling, short pants passing his parted lips and his face is puffy and red from crying. — “Was it?” You repeat your question, and it makes his head lull forward as he nods. 

“Y-Yes! W-Was a m-mistake!” He breathes, chest heaving as he tries to win you over, tries to win you back. You have to bite back the insults already waiting on your tongue as you regard his pathetic attempts at showing remorse. “And you’re sorry?” — The hand on his cock has almost completely stopped now and Yeonjun writhers uncomfortably under you as he nods feebly. “Y-Yes, I’m s-sorry, please baby!” He chokes the words out between his tears.  

It was tempting to give in, to believe him, just like you always did. The thought of falling back into your old habit of ignorant bliss, of unawareness and your life in the dark.. It scared you more than anything. You refused to become that person once more. You refused to put up with the shit that Yeonjun would make you endure, all because you wanted to be a good girlfriend. That obviously wasn’t enough. 

Instead you lift your skirt up, instructing him to hold it for you as you slide your panties to the side, drawing a lazy finger across your unenthusiastic cunt. Yeonjun practically whimpers at the sight of you touching yourself before him, cock twitching as it demands attention. But you can’t muster another feeling besides disgust. Bet he couldn’t wait to fuck the next thing that as much as moved. 

He emits a strangled moan as you slide down on him, nestling him between your legs just like you had so many times before. Except everything was different today. — His hands are on your hips as he tugs you forward, desperate for you to meet his eager thrusts as he buries himself deep inside of your tight and burning core. 

Despite everything, he’s still crying. Shiny droplets rolling down his cheeks almost rhythmically as he pants under you. — Your stomach twists as your attention falls on the dark hues adorning his neck and collarbone. Not only had he fucked her, he’d let her do that to him as well, and he came home wearing it, like some fucking souvenir. 

“What a fucking whore.” You mutter, nails scraping across the marks and Yeonjun whimpers at the contact to the sensitive skin. There was no denying his actions now, he knew it too, lip trembling as he followed your lingering gaze. — “A liar and a whore, what else are you?” Your pace is slow as you grind against him, feeling his cock twitch with every clench of your cunt around him. He doesn’t answer, the only sounds he emits are wailing cries and whimpers as he loses himself in a guilt-ridden state of ecstasy. 

“Do you like it? Do you like being covered in the filth of another woman?” You practically yell, making him whimper as he shakes his head, breath catching in his throat as he fumbles for words. — Biting the inside of your cheek, you let your hands splay across his chest, not bothering to leave any marks of your own, you didn’t want him to have a single piece of you left. Instead your focus shifts to his perked nipples, fingers coming up to play with the sensitive buds as Yeonjun arches off the mattress with a weak moan. 

“Disgusting fucking whore”, you grit, fighting off the tears as you increased your pace on him, hips snapping against his. “Doesn't matter who it is as long as you get your dick wet.” — He’s stopped trying to object, merely accepting his fate as he sobs out into the dark room, his hands on your hips trembling as he tries pulling you closer. 

“Get your hands off of me”, you grunt, prying him from your body before your fingers reattach themselves around his nipples, pulling and twisting them as you gauge his reaction. Yeonjun whines as his head falls back against the pillow, drool forming in the corner of his mouth before it slowly rolls down the side of his chin. “Mhhn, p-please baby..” He mumbles, his expression dazed as he struggles to see straight. 

Unbelievable. He still had the nerve to ask such a thing. “You’re funny if you honestly think I’m going to let you come anywhere near me, let alone inside”, you spit, watching as his brows draw together in a confused frown, fingers twisting in the bed sheets as he swallows a small wail. 

His cock continues to twitch inside of you and with a quiet huff you pull off, to which Yeonjun groans as his hips buck in an attempt to chase after you. — It felt good, seeing him like this, completely worn out and spent before you. His hair standing in all directions, body glistening in a sheer layer of sweat, his cheeks red and puffed as they lay coated in his tears. It didn’t matter that he’d cheated, because even if he did, you were the one who got to see him like this, you were the one who made him like this. 

Your hand returns to stroke him, relishing in the way he caught his bottom lip between his teeth to muffle the noises he’d previously been letting out so shamelessly. And when he comes you let it splatter across his stomach, adding to the filth and dirt already covering him as he cries in your grasp. But you didn’t take pity on him, not once. Because when did he ever take pity on you? 

As his breathing evens out, his cock softening, and his tears gradually subsiding, Yeonjun finally lifts his gaze to look at you. His expression is best described as hopeful. He still thinks he’s got you wrapped around his finger. He still thinks that you’ll forgive him for everything he’s done. — But you won’t.

“Get out.” 

He looks surprised, startled even, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “What?” He croaks, his voice hoarse as he props himself up on his elbows. You frown, eyes boring into his, “I said get out, did you not hear me?” — “We’re over, Yeonjun.” 

Just as you thought he would finally stop crying, does his tears resurface. You wondered why he cried. Because he surely wasn’t mourning the loss of you, he’d made that very clear the second he got in another woman’s bed. You don’t care for his tears, not anymore. You don’t care for him anymore. And even if Yeonjun did care about you, in his own twisted and fucked up way, it was far too late now, he knew that too. 

The bedroom door shuts minutes later and you’re left alone, just as alone as you had been all those nights without him. It didn’t feel much different, and you wondered why you hadn’t done this sooner.

taglist ✎.. @lunesdesire @jjklvr9 @beomies-world @hyukaaa @ninoshome1 @gardnhee @babymochibeargyu @lunathewritingcat @duckywuckypookiepie @naoristerling @oddracha @soohashits @junimoa03 @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @beomtasticc @gudboibeomgyu @flowzel @hwanghyunjinismybae @inkigayocamman @sthwaaberry @izzyy-stuff @silentisle @itaehynz @blossommi @sunghxxnie @unknowzzn

(if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ᰔ © all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[vigilante-3073]

My Love Mine All Mine

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Slow dancing with Bucky in the aftermath of one of Tony's parties.

TW: Fluff, slow dancing, drinking.

The charity gala Tony had thrown in Avengers tower was slowly winding to a close. Most of the people had gone home, leaving only a few stragglers at the bar, huddled around the pool table or sitting in the various seating areas. Bucky had taken up residence on the couch in the far corner of the room. Some of the party-goers were still wary about Bucky joining the Avengers and tended to give him a wide berth.

The hushed conversations and nervous looks being thrown his way made Bucky want to disappear. He knew that there would always be people in the world who only saw him as the Winter Soldier. Bucky thought he would be used to it by now, but it never seemed to get any easier.

The feeling of being watched like a rabid animal whenever he moved weighed heavily on him. When Sam and Steve moved over to one of the pool tables, Bucky decided to settle himself in a corner where he would be least likely to draw attention.

He had been sitting on the couch by himself for most of the night, hands folded in his lap as he watched the people around him silently. Steve had come to check on him a few times, but Bucky had waved him off and sent him back to the party.

Bucky wished he was anywhere else, but Steve wanted him to come and he didn't want to let his friend down. Bucky looked up as Y/N made her way over to him with two drinks and a soft smile.

"Mind if I sit?" Y/N asked, Bucky nodded.

She sat down beside him with a sigh, crossing her legs and holding out one of the glasses to him, "You looked thirsty," She said.

"Thanks, doll," He said, taking the glass from her hand.

"Are you okay? I feel like I haven't seen you at all tonight," She asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Bucky shrugged, looking down at the glass in his hand, "Just not in the party mood, I guess," He stated.

"We can go if you want, things are starting to wind down anyway," She offered.

"It's alright, there's a couple over there who've been watching me like I'm gonna fly off the handle at any second. It's better if I just stay here," Bucky said.

"I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't know," She said softly.

"It's fine. They're not doing any harm," He said, taking a sip of the drink she had brought him. He was pleasantly suprised to find that it was his favorite whiskey.

"They're making you uncomfortable in your home and that's not fair," Y/N said. Her bright eyes quickly finding the couple that looked over at Buckey nervously every few seconds.

"Sweetheart, don't worry about it, I'm fine," Bucky assured, hand resting on her knee and pulling her attention back to him.

"I just- I wish they knew you like we do," Y/N said, resting her hand over his.

"That's a sweet thing to say, doll," Bucky said.

A new song started playing through the speaker systems, a bit slower than the rest as the party was coming to a close.

Y/N gasped softly, "I love this one... Will you dance with me, Buck?" She asked.

His cheeks flushed, looking around the room warily, "I'm flattered, doll, but I don't know," He sighed.

"Just right here, you don't even have to go far," She assured, setting her drink on the table.

"Alright, I'll dance with you," He agreed, placing his drink down beside her's.

Y/N stood up, pulling Bucky along with her as they stepped away from the table. Bucky held her hand in his as his metal hand rested on her waist lightly.

He guided them in a few steps before pulling away and spinning her with a smile. Bucky pulled her back in, hand sliding around the curve of her waist to rest on the small of her back.

Y/N rested her head down on his chest as they swayed, humming along to the music as they moved together.

Bucky pressed his lips to her forehead gently, "Thank you for saving my night, doll," He mumbled.

She smiled, "You're welcome, Bucky," Y/N said.

...

Steve and Sam watched the pair dance with knowing smiles on their faces, "How long do you think it'll take him to tell her how he feels?" Sam asked.

Steve sighed, "Knowing Buck, centuries," He said, taking a sip of his drink.

"Seriously? Wasn't he some kinda ladies man back in the day?" Sam questioned.

Steve nodded, "He was, but he's different now and she's different," Steve said, shifting the beer bottle in his grasp.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, turning his head towards the supersoldier.

"Bucky definitely flirted back in the day, but I don't think he ever looked at any of them the way he looks at her," Steve replied.

Sam turned his head towards Bucky and Y/N, watching him laugh at something she said while they swayed together.

"He's got it bad for her," Sam stated, Steve nodded.

"What are we talking about over here, boys?" Natasha asked, leaning up against the wall beside Steve.

"The lovebirds," Sam said, tilting his head in the direction of Bucky and Y/N.

"Wanda and I have been trying to get them together for almost a year, but nothing has worked yet," She sighed, crossing her arms.

"Wanna combine forces?" Sam asked.

"Is that a serious proposal, Wilson?" Natasha asked, narrowing her eyes.

Sam nodded, "Hell yeah, I'm always down to play matchmaker," He said.

"Or you could always just leave them be and let them work it out themselves," Steve suggested.

"We'll work on her, you deal with Bucky?" Natasha proposed, completely dismissing Steve's attempt to dissuade them.

"Deal," Sam replied.

"I'll tell Wanda," Natasha said, walking off to try and locate the witch.

"Sometimes I ask myself why I even try to stop these things from happening," Steve sighed.

"Isn't that your job? You're like the fun police," Sam questioned, taking a drink from his glass.

Steve shot him an offended look, "I am not the fun police. I can be fun. I just think meddling in other people's lives is juvenile and unnecessary," Steve said.

"Whatever you say," Sam smiled, patting Steve on the shoulder before making his way over to the bar.

[sinkovia]

Yes, Lieutenant: I

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Violence, suggestive themes.

Yes, Lieutenant Masterlist

Under the scorching sun, the team gathered in a huddle as Price provided the final briefing for the mission in Al Mazrah. Intelligence had pinpointed the location of Iván Espiga, Valeria's new right-hand man.

The stakes were high – capturing him was crucial for extracting any information about Valeria's potential hideout following her escape from Alejandro's prison.

As you move swiftly through the labyrinthine streets of Al Mazrah, your eyes flicker over to Alejandro, engaged in small talk with a local vendor.

Vigilant, you keep a watchful eye on his back, prepared for any indication of trouble. The urgency to find Ivan before he slips away from the city fuels every step.

Navigating through the bustling market, you seamlessly blend in with the local populace, your senses attuned to the surroundings. The air is thick with the scents of spices and the murmur of haggling voices.

Alejandro and you find a momentary refuge under an overpass, your eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of Ivan's presence. Amid the ambient sounds, your radio crackles to life, interrupting the tension.

"Bravo 1-1, this is Echo 3-1, how copy?" Alex's voice crackles over the comms, and you glance at Alejandro, your silent communication understanding the urgency in the situation.

"Alex, talk to me. You pick anything up?" Alejandro queries.

"Affirmative. You see that big tower with the bell. It's south, about half a click away from our entry point." you and Alejandro began to move.

"I see it. We are down the street from it. Two minutes. How far are you and Farah?"

"About five minutes. Do not engage, wait for Ghost and Soap to rendezvous."

"Copy, out."

As you approached Ivan's supposed safe house, the atmosphere grew tense. Guards were everywhere, and infiltrating without being seen would be a challenge. Taking cover behind crumbling walls and rusty vehicles on the side of the safe house, you instinctively took the safety off your weapon, ready for any unexpected confrontation. 

In the distance, a faint whistle caught your attention, and you saw Soap with Ghost following closely behind, both crouched behind some barrels. Glancing around the perimeter, you signaled to them that it was safe to cross over and join you.

Soap approached your side, speaking softly. "Aye there, lass. Are Alex and Farah here yet?" 

You turned to Soap and nodded your head. "They mentioned they were slightly behind the rest of us. They're probably still making their way over," you replied, noticing Ghost crouched behind you, his gaze fixed upon you. 

Despite his hunched position, his dominating presence was evident, his towering figure, broad shoulders, and muscular frame drawing your attention. As you held Ghost's gaze, his brown eyes burned a hole through you. Even in the midst of tension, he exuded a calm demeanor that caught you off guard.

A deafening explosion rocked the air, ripping you from your thoughts. Peering over the wall, you witnessed the front gate of the safehouse blown up, and men in civilian clothing rushing through the debris. The chaotic scene sparked questions – was the safe house under attack by a rival gang?

Gunfire erupted from every direction as bullets whizzed past, kicking up dust and debris. The team ran for better cover behind the safe house, adrenaline surging through your veins. Ghost turned around, and all attention focused on him.

"This is our only chance to infiltrate while we still can before Ivan catches wind and leaves. Soap, I want you to breach the back door so we have a way in. Alejandro and I will clear the first floor, Y/N and Soap will find the stairs and clear the second."

Soap quickly planted and detonated the door, the team moving in unison. Bullets found their marks, dropping cartel members one by one. With the path clear, you and Soap advanced towards the stairs, leaving Ghost and Alejandro to handle their assignments.

Slowly ascending the stairs, you and Soap took out a few enemies, clearing each room systematically. As you opened another door, a man lunged from behind, slicing your arm. Reacting quickly, you slammed the door against him, sending him sprawling back into the room. Soap entered from the room across, pointing his gun at Ivan.

"It's over, Ivan, we have you like a cornered rat," Soap's Scottish accent cut through the tense atmosphere.

While Soap remained oblivious, you noticed Ivan's hand slowly reaching for something next to him. Your eyes zeroed in on a small pocket knife, just inches from his grasp.

Acting swiftly, you grabbed a throwing knife and aimed for his hand. The knife went through his hand and embedded itself in the floorboard below, incapacitating him from reaching the weapon. Ivan screamed in pain, unleashing a string of curses.

"Ahora sabes cómo se siente, perra. Mira lo que le hiciste a mi brazo" (Now you know how it feels, bitch. Look at what you did to my arm). You turned your arm to show him the small cut he had inflicted, and he sneered through the pain.

"Eso no es nada comparado con mi maldita mano. Te voy a matar, perra" (That's nothing compared to my fucking hand. I'll fucking kill you, bitch). You laughed as you retrieved handcuffs from your vest and secured them on his wrists. Rendezvousing with Ghost and Alejandro downstairs, Ghost noticed your arm.

"You alright sergeant?" you look at him a bit confused before you realize he's talking about your arm.

"Oh yeah, it's just a graze L.t I'm good" You hold eye contact for a couple of seconds before breaking away to walk outside through the back door you breached. You all made it back safely to the exfil where Price was waiting.

The mission in Las Almas spanned three days, and you are eagerly anticipating a much-needed shower. After checking your weapons back in, you make your way to your room to get a change of clothes and your shower bag. You head towards your personal shower, turning the knob you wait for it to warm up. However, after running cold water for about five minutes, you curse to yourself.

"The hot water probably isn't working on this side of the base"

For fucks sake. With a sigh, you collect your belongings and navigate your way toward the communal showers. It's 3 am, so fortunately, the area is pretty empty with everyone else heading to bed or watching the interrogation with Ivan. As you turn on the water, you shed your clothes, allowing the warm cascade to envelop your body. The sensation of scrubbing and lathering your hair fills your senses, the fragrance of your shampoo adding a refreshing touch.

Lost in your own thoughts, your peace is abruptly interrupted by the sound of someone entering the shower area. The walls dividing each shower stall aren't particularly tall, granting you a clear view over the top. Curiosity piques, and you cautiously peek your head over the wall, spotting the familiar sight of a Ghost mask.

"Im guessing your shower was cold too huh?" you remark, turning back around to rinse the shampoo from your head.

"Shit was colder than the motherland" he states in his brooding voice, eliciting a laugh from you. Ghost's rare sense of humor always brought a welcome respite from his typically solemn demeanor.

"How's the arm?"

"It was nothing, won't even leave a scar" he hums in response. Both of you shower in silence, and as you turn off the water, Ghost does the same. Reaching out to grab your towel, you realize with a mental curse that you left it behind in your bathroom.

Frustrated, you turn to Ghost, "Hey, Ghost, could you do me a favor? I left my towel in my bathroom. Would you mind getting one for me from the cabinet?"

He steps out of his shower stall, only in a towel that dangerously hangs low around his waist. The alluring sight of water droplets cascading down his chiseled chest captures the soft glow of ambient light. Each droplet follows its own path, delicately tracing the contours of his well-defined muscles, only to vanish upon reaching the edge of the towel.

You watch the subtle movement of his muscles beneath his skin as he reaches into the cabinet to grab a towel. Before you can register the intensity of your gaze fixed on his exposed torso, he stands in front of your shower stall, towel in hand.

"And here I thought I was the one with a staring problem," he teases, a blush heating your face as you hastily take the towel without uttering a word.

Oh god, what the fuck is wrong with you. Ghost just caught you staring at him like some hungry ass dog. You mentally let out a string of curses as you begin to dry yourself off. Quickly changing into the fresh clothes you brought; a pair of black sweatpants and a short-sleeved black shirt.

Slipping on your slippers, you step out from the shower stall. You make your way towards the counter adorned with a small mirror. Ghost emerges from his own shower stall, now dressed in a combination of sweatpants and a form-fitting short-sleeved t-shirt.

"I'm sorry for staring earlier, it was rude and I shouldn't have done it" He halts his approach towards the door, diverting his path to stand directly in front of you, his imposing figure towering over your smaller frame. A sense of vulnerability washes over you as you instinctively try to retreat, only to find yourself trapped by the counter.

"Why were you staring?" he asks, taking another step towards you, his hands firmly planted on either side of the counter, effectively caging you. Caught off guard by his question, you struggle to find the right words.

"I, um, I-I don't..." you stumble over your words, flustered by how close he is and the intensity in his gaze as his head tilts slightly to the side, his eyes land on your lips.

"Come on, Sergeant, use your words," he urges, his tone laced with a hint of teasing, igniting a rush of heat to your face. You find yourself at a loss for words, paralyzed by the way Ghost is addressing you.

"I don't know what to say, Lieutenant," you finally exhale, almost in a whisper, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes that meet yours with unwavering intensity.

In a daring move, he raises his hand, his fingertips brushing against your jawline, trailing down to your chin. With gentle yet deliberate force, he cups your chin, his thumb grazing over your bottom lip.

"Should I help you then sergeant?" he mutters, causing your heart to race within your chest, and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. 

"Yes," you breathe out, releasing a shaky breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"Yes, what, Sergeant?" Ghost's grip on your chin tightens slightly, not enough to cause pain, but enough to assert his dominance in the moment.

"Yes, Lieutenant," you mutter, your cheeks growing warmer at the closeness between the two of you, acutely aware that anyone could enter the showers and catch you in this compromising position.

"Good girl," he utters, his free hand lifting his baklava to rest atop his nose. Before you can fully absorb his features, his lips press against yours. On instinct, your hands rise, one resting on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck to let you deepen the kiss. Bodies entwined in a heated exchange, you both press closer, driven by a ravenous desire for one another.

His hand trails down from your jaw to your throat, giving a gentle pressure that elicits a breathy moan of pleasure. With a sense of urgency, he hoists you up and settles you on the edge of the counter, stepping into the space between your legs, you felt him press against you. 

Whose horse is that?

The friction between you causes a low moan to escape your lips as desire courses through your veins. You've never had sex with anyone before but you know if this is where it's heading, you would let ghost be your first. Your tongues melt together in a frenzied embrace, exchanging kisses that leave you both breathless, gasping for air.

As you part, gazing up at Ghost through hazy eyes, he looks down at you, his gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips, down to your body, and back up again.

Something changes in his expression, his lustful look morphing into the cold, distant gaze he always carries. He releases his hold on you and abruptly pushes himself away from you, turning and leaving the showers without explanation, disappearing into the unknown, and leaving you alone.

[sarahscribbles]

𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐕𝐀!𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟗𝐤

𝐀𝐍: 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲.

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You hear the sharp sound of Loki’s footsteps on the atrium floor roughly twenty minutes after slipping the note undetected into his coat pocket. 

“You’re too chicken to fuck me in public,” you had scrawled across the yellow TVA issued notepaper, feeling a heat begin to form between your thighs with each stroke of your pen. 

Was he too chicken, though? You aren’t sure what you and Loki are exactly, but heaven help you you’re enjoying the secret trysts in broom cupboards and bathrooms. It’s what spawned the idea to write him the note - the fact that all your hook ups have been in secret away from prying eyes. 

It was meant to do nothing but tease him, to poke the proverbial bear, but with how quickly and forcefully his footsteps are approaching from behind, you fear you may have flown too close to the sun.

Your heart begins to thump wildly in your chest with each step he takes, and you lose track of what the analysts huddled around you are discussing. Vaguely, you catch snippets of their concern over yet another variant causing havoc on the Sacred Timeline, but their voices fade to a faint drone when the familiar scent of cinnamon and patchouli wraps around you. 

Each quiet inhale of his scent sends an addictive giddiness zipping through your veins. You imagine him slipping his hands in his pockets and feeling the sharp edges of the note - had he just stepped through the Time Door on another assignment with Mobius? Or had he only found it while they were already in the field? How long has he been stewing over that single, teasing sentence and assembling, to him, a suitable consequence?

It has you fighting not to squeeze your thighs together where you stand.

“Terribly sorry!” That familiar, smooth voice rolls over you only seconds later, and you feel two firm hands grip your shoulders. “I’m afraid I have a very pressing issue that requires one of the best minds in the TVA! I’ll have her back in a jiffy!”

Before you can even draw breath to object Loki’s fingers are curling possessively around your upper arm. His pace is frantic as he steers you through Chrono Bay Three, so much so that it really does look like the future of the TVA rests on your shoulders. 

You know different, though. 

You know that, beside you, is a man with enough pent up sexual energy to power a small town. 

It’s exhilarating to see what you do to him. From your place at his side, you can see the tense way he’s holding that strong jaw; you can see how his free hand is curled into a half fist, and you can feel the flex of his fingers through the material of your shirt like he’s itching to get his hands on your bare skin. 

Again. 

“So, what’s this pressing issue that requires my brilliant mind?” you tease him as he continues to pull you through the deserted atrium. “Are the threads of time disintegrating as we speak? Has Miss Minutes gone rogue?” 

You swear that the corner of his mouth quirks, just a little bit, and, for a second, all you want to do is make him laugh. 

Loki’s pace doesn’t falter even for a second as he keeps weaving you both through the intricate halls of the TVA, but he turns briefly to flash you that devilish grin. “Do you really wish to do this, darling? After that little stunt you just pulled?”

Something lurches to life in your stomach, but you forcibly will it down. This is all just a little bit of fun, really. A little bit of excitement in the otherwise boring days of being an analyst. What better way to liven things up than with this man with those beautiful green eyes and the…

No.

Not this time. 

You’re, ironically, saved from any further traitorous thoughts by the very subject of them. Loki comes to an almost comical stop beside that ridiculous “minimise chat in the cafeteria please” sign that’s become a favoured inside joke between you and Mobius, in large part due to the weary sigh it garners from Loki. He throws a casual glance at the handful of other agents milling around - none of whom seem remotely interested in either of you - and yanks you through a door with a sign that reads “Authorised Personnel Only.”

Although the corridor he’s pulled you into looks just like every other corridor in the labyrinth of the TVA, you recognise this as one you’re not overly familiar with. Does this one lead to Repairs and Advancement? Or is this the shorter route to the Automat? You aren’t sure. 

What you are sure of is that it isn’t very wide. 

You turn to face Loki as the door snaps shut. Even under the harsh yellow lights running overhead, he still manages to look every inch the handsome god that he is. It’s both infuriating and exhilarating. 

“A stunt?” you whisper with feigned disbelief. “Who would dare to try the God of Mischief?”

Loki takes two steps to the side so he’s standing directly in front of you at what counts as the “other side” of the corridor. One hand is deep in his trouser pocket while the other rises from his side. Between two elegant fingers sits your little note. “Care to explain?”

An impish smile curls across your face in tandem with your heart beginning to thump wildly in your chest. “Oh, that! I meant to slip that to the new Minuteman this morning. You know, the tall one with the blonde hair? Whoops.”

The god in front of you doesn’t smile. Instead, he inhales slowly, deeply, and locks those hypnotising green eyes with yours. “I thought we had addressed this little issue last week? Do I need to put you over my knee again?”

You swallow silently and make a valent effort to ignore the heat that’s rising to a crescendo between your thighs. The last time Loki had held you over his knee you hadn’t been able to sit comfortably for three days. It hadn’t been the first time and you pray it won’t be the last. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Your Highness.” You smirk at him, knowing how much he loves this.

The quirk of his lip is barely perceptible, blink and you would have missed it. He takes two silent steps forward, closing the remaining distance until he’s looming over you. He’s so deliciously close that you could easily get drunk on the scent of him and on the mix of mischief, desire and lust that’s swirling in those pretty green eyes. 

A lavender haze of raw arousal has settled around you like a blanket, twisting tighter and tighter with each second Loki stays silent. His lips are quirked in a half smirk that makes you desperate to know what’s going on in that devilish mind of his, to know what concoction of pleasure and pain he’s cooked up to make you pay for your brattiness. 

It’s foolish, though, to think you’ll ever be able to guess his next move. 

You become overly aware of the wall at your back when he reaches out a thumb and forefinger to grip your chin. It’s a soft touch, but there’s no denying the jolt of electricity that rushes through every vein and pore. 

Because that’s what Loki is; he’s electrifying. 

“On your knees, Agent. Now.” His voice rolls over you low and smooth, but there’s a clear undertone of dominance flowing beneath each word. 

A thrill of excitement shoots along your spine, but it leaves something else in its wake. Something that feels oddly like nerves. 

“Here?” you question him, turning panicked eyes to the rows of doors lining both sides of the corridors. “But…Loki, there are people here!”

Loki answers you with a raising of his brow. “Oh, I do beg your pardon. Perhaps you’re too chicken to be fucked in public?” He throws your own taunt back at you. 

Something in you bristles and you curse your nervous outburst. He has quite enough to hold over your head. “You wish. I do this all the time,” you lie. 

His face is impossible to read. “Then why am I waiting? On your knees.” 

He expects you to obey and the threat of what will happen if you don’t hangs heavily in the air. Normally, you’d want to keep pushing his buttons to see just how far you could push him, your ass be damned, but you’re so completely under his spell that you fall to your knees after only half a second of defiance. 

A satisfied smirk curls across Loki’s face. “There. See how much easier it is when you obey, sweet girl?” he purrs, using those sinfully long fingers to tuck some hair behind your ears. 

“Don’t get used to it,” you shoot back before you can help yourself. 

Loki’s answering laughter is short but genuine. “I wouldn’t be so foolish.” 

His hand curling around your skull is a sign that the talking is over. He holds you there firmly in place while his other hand works at the belt and zipper of his trousers. In several seamless movements, he frees himself from the black boxers he’s wearing underneath, and you feel the slightest pressure on the back of your head as he pushes it forward.

“Open,” Loki orders, curling a hand around his cock and guiding it to your lips. 

They part obediently and he wastes no time in feeding you his cock inch by inch. It’s becoming familiar to you now - the taste of him on your tongue and the musky scent that quickly wraps around you - and yoi’ve done this enough times before to know how much he loves when you run the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock. 

As expected, you’re rewarded with a soft moan and the feel of his fingers flexing in your hair. It only serves to embolden you. 

Loki’s eyes drift closed as he savours the warm wetness of your mouth around him, and you take the opportunity to take as much of him as you can into your mouth, refusing to stop until the tip of his cock slips down your throat. With teary eyes you hold it as long as you can until you feel your throat start to convulse with the need for air. Only then do you pull back off him until just the tip rests between your lips. 

“Fuck! You divine creature!” Loki rasps out, curling his hand even tighter in your hair. “Keep going! That’s my good girl.” 

You eagerly obey. 

Ignoring the ache that’s beginning in your knees and the quiet hum of voices from behind several of the doors, you focus your attention solely on getting this man off. You do everything that you know he loves - you swirl your tongue hungrily around his tip and lick the aching length of him until his hand flies out to slam into the wall with a groan. 

“Faster !” he grunts, and when you peer up at him, you see him slowly coming apart piece by piece. 

That beautiful face is contorted in pleasure and several black curls have fallen haphardly around his shoulders. He’s panting and moaning like a whore, causing your eyes to dart frantically back and forth between him and the doors behind.

But it’s no longer fear that’s pumping through your blood. It’s raw, hot arousal. 

Loki won’t last much longer, but just when you begin to drive him towards release, he pulls his cock free from between your lips.  “Enough,” he says huskily. “On your feet.” 

Shakily, and with Loki’s help, you climb to your feet, but you barely have a second to appreciate the relief before his lips crash against yours. His kiss is hungry and dominating and, at the same time his tongue slips into your mouth, a hand is pulling your leg around his waist and pushing the brown material of your skirt around your hips.

“Tell me you were wrong,” he pants, hot and heavy against your lips. “Say it.”

“I…I was wrong,” you say as his skilled hands make short work of your underwear. 

“Yes. You were,” Loki taunts, “and I’m going to show you just how wrong right here in this corridor.”

One long finger begins to circle your clit at the same time the blunt head of his cock presses against your soaked cunt. You’re aching for him - you have been since the last time he had pulled you into Time Theatre Four - but Loki only slides his cock through your wetness.

“Fucking hell!” you whimper, reaching out to grab his shoulder through the thick material of his pea coat. “Loki, enough. Just fuck me, please!” 

You see a flash of white teeth before he rolls his hips, sinking his cock into you in one smooth thrust. It’s been so long since he’s filled you that a shameless moan slips from your lips before you can stop it and echoes down the empty hallway. 

You snap your mouth closed and look to Loki with panicked eyes, but he only gives you that infuriating smirk. “I hope you can be sufficiently quiet, little mouse. We’re in quite the compromising situation.”

“Fuck you,” you murmur, but press down on his ass with your foot to coax him into moving. 

Loki chuckles and thrusts into you once more, forcing you to bite your cheek to stop from crying out. “You do have such a way with words.”

His fingers stay at your clit as he thrusts his cock into you over and over. It’s enough to send you dizzy and you grip his shoulders for dear life, but it’s impossible not to let them drift into his curls. They’re soft and silken between your fingers - like they always are - and you’re rewarded with the same deep groan when you twist them around your finger and tug. 

It’s something you accidentally discovered that night Loki had taken you on top of one of the desks in the library - he enjoys having his hair pulled. It’s a small slice of knowledge that you filed away, and it only made you eager to discover what other filth this man got off on. 

Loki, it seems, is just as kinky as you are. 

“How is it…that you feel better…every time?” he pants and slams into you with such force that you can’t swallow your cry of pleasure. 

“Just part of my charm,” you answer on a single breath, though it’s a breath that’s quickly lost to you as Loki increases the pressure on your swollen clit. 

He builds you up expertly, and the tiny ripples of pleasure that begin to ripple in your core are like no other. Whatever this thing is between you and Loki, it’s ruined you for anyone else. 

Each thrust of his cock has the edge crest ever closer, and every pant and groan that escapes his lips has you clenching down harder around him. 

But it’s right when you feel the first swells of your orgasm that the scraping of chairs begins behind a door only a few feet away. 

You look to Loki wildly, but the asshole only waggles his eyebrows at you. “I’d say you have about two minutes to cum, Agent,” he whispers wickedly in your ear. 

You whine and tug him closer, willing your orgasm to wash over you before the door opens. You’re too pent up, too desperate to be left dangling on the edge today.

“One minute,” Loki taunts, though it’s questionable if he’ll last that long.

Maybe it’s from how relentlessly he’s fucking you and the gloriously filthy way he’s grunting in your ear, or maybe it’s due to the exhilarating thought of being caught fucking this god in an open corridor, but your orgasm tears through you only seconds later, drowning you in a pleasure so intense that you bury your face in Loki’s shoulder to stop from crying out. 

It’s white hot and steals the breath from your lungs. You feel it from the very tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes. It’s a neverending tsunami that you would happily drown beneath again and again. 

Loki spills inside you moments later, panting your name and cupping your ass to keep you as close to him as physically possible. It’s a release so blinding that it leaves your ears ringing and your heart hammering in your chest, and you’ve barely come down off your high when your leg falls from Loki’s waist back to the ground. 

The afterglow of release settles around you like a pink cloud. Your chest is heaving as you stand boneless against the wall on shaky legs. It’s beyond you how they’re still supporting you in the wake of a climax so powerful that it’s robbed you of your ability to speak or to form a coherent thought. 

Though you aren’t sure if the feeling of relief is from the explosive orgasm he’s just given you or the fact that you managed to reach it before being caught. 

Your eyes drift lazily to Loki. He’s standing before you infuriatingly proud smirk as he tucks himself away and straightens the brown pea coat that you’ve nearly clawed off his shoulders. It only grows when he reaches out to straighten your skirt down just as a door opens several feet down the corridor. 

He takes a few steps backward to begin melting into the small crowd that emerges from within, but not without sticking his hands in his pockets and giving you a filthy wink. “Until next time, Agent.”