#and how she felt when i was going through some shit and how often she thinks about me

[colasapphic]

Idk if you accept drabbles or not but I’ve been thinking abt mom!best friend Georgia

She just recently met you and gosh she’s head over heels a bit younger then her (hella younger then her) maybe 5ish years older then her daughter and Georgia KNOWS she shouldn’t she really does but it’s so hard

Especially when reader bats those pretty eyes at her and practically begs for Georgia’s praise and since she’s been working with Georgia a lot she loves when Georgia listens to her ideas and tells her “that’s amazing peach” or even better “good girl”

And reader oh? They’re not any better Georgia in her low cut tops during summer and shorts way to short for someone who’s meant to be a mother of two reader feels like a full blown perv💔

And they both know they shouldn’t but, how could they not indulge themself one day when Georgia shirt was to short and reader was practically begging to be told how good she was? How could they not have sex on Georgia (Paul’s) desk I mean really?

They’ve already started something they shouldn’t? How could they not finish it hm?

(a/n : oh this is insaneee i love it…probably not my best work since i’m drowning in writers block but)

office siren | georgia miller

wc: 2.6k (little more than a drabble oops)

summary: you work for mayor miller after your mother helps you land the job, but paperwork isn’t the only thing the mayor thinks about filling out.

cw: SMUT MDNI, femreader, praise kink, possessive georgia, reader has anxiety

being a nepo baby was probably top five most embarrassing things that have happened in your entire life.

you were technically only hired because your mother was friends with the mayor. you had the skill, sure, but would you have been hired if not for her? you had known georgia for about a year now—some crazy shit transpiring in that time period. your mother had stayed by georgia’s side though, she was loyal like that. you had often found yourself bringing meals over to georgia during her trial, it was eerily quiet after her kids were taken, you felt bad for her.

now here you both were, a few months after the trial, and georgia was the goddamn mayor. turns out the people really didn’t like that paul randolph abandoned his innocent wife in a time of need. she stole his job right out from under him—you hate how much you think he deserved it. although there was something you couldn’t quite shake about georgia miller… how absolutely gorgeous she was. if she wasn’t your mother’s friend—and a decade older than you—you’d have asked her out a long time ago. sometimes you swear she wears those outfits on purpose, which then makes you angry at yourself because you’re ogling like a man. you assumed it was some dumb crush when you had first met her, but it had never really gone away. as you feel a nudge to your side, you whip around to snap at the person—but then realize it was georgia. and you had been standing at the printed this entire fucking time.

“darlin’ did you sleep okay?” she asks in a concerned tone, reaching out to touch your arm. you back away as if her hand was an open flame—it sure felt like it. it’s then that you can really take in her beauty, she was wearing regular dress pants but a shirt that surely was not appropriate for the workplace. you feel your gaze lingering on her cleavage before you look back to the printer, “i—guess not. i have those event plans you wanted” you respond, grabbing the papers out of the printer and turning back to her with a big grin on your face. just grin and bear it, your mother had always taught you.

instead of asking you to come to her office, she simply does the ‘come here’ motion with her finger—walking slowly to the door—you almost thought she was moving in a more seductive manner.

your heart feels like it was going to beat out of your chest as she reads through your plans, she had never been mean to you before, but maybe these ones were really bad and she’d make fun of you before shredding them and firing yo—

“these are so good, peach” she beams, placing the papers on her desk and leaning back to get a better look at you. you were absolutely stunning, she didn’t entertain younger men—especially not girls ten years her junior, but the way your eyebrows furrowed as she read through your papers, scared of rejection, then softened again when she spoke truly drew her in. when your mother had mentioned you were between jobs, she gave you this one without hesitation, maybe a little too quickly. she couldn’t help it, this way you could stay right next to you and she could admire you all she wanted, a little selfish sure—but if she had it her way, you’d never leave her side.

she remembers when she first met you, you were beautifully creative, but she never imagined she’d be able to work by your side. it was exhilarating—working with someone just as intelligent as her, she knows it would be wrong to pursue you, so she watches from afar—hoping one day you’d make the move so she wouldn’t have to.

“georgia…?”

her thoughts are interrupted by your beautiful voice and she shakes her head to clear her mind, “i’m sorry, the days are catching up to me”

“catching up to you? please, you're in your prime!” you shoot back, gesturing to georgia as if that explained everything. it did. georgia chuckled in response, rubbing her face and taking another look at the papers you had turned in, “i do have one idea that didn’t make it into the paper…” you start slowly and georgia looks up at you immediately, a soft smile making its way onto her face, “the floor is yours”

“so i was thinking about how we did that bake sale for years, but when you came to town and did a poker night—which was extremely successful. what if we switched it up every year? this year could be a carnival night…y'know it is all for the kids…” you trail off slowly after explaining, georgia’s unreadable facial expression making you more nervous about your idea. you chew on the inside of your mouth as your gaze falls onto the floor, “it’s not even really an idea—we could go back to the bake sale.” you add, your voice losing more of its strength as you continue, god you really needed to just shut up.

georgia notices the way your gaze would sometimes flicker back to her, eyelashes batting with a puppy dog stare—begging for approval of some kind, how adorable. georgia finds herself biting her finger while staring at you, but once realizing how long she’d been silent—she clears her throat, “a carnival? austin would love that” she murmurs, which causes your head to jerk up towards her—no more batting eyelashes, but a curious stare.

“see? this is why i have you on my team y/n, you really are brilliant”

georgia praises and you practically light up—georgia almost swore you were blushing by the way you avert her gaze as she desperately tries to find it. you clear your throat, more confident now as you approach the desk—placing your hands on some papers and leaning closer to georgia, “and it’s better for business. since we’d be including the kids, that means more people—we’d have to pay for all the carnival equipment, but we’d still be making profit. and who knows, maybe teenagers can tell their little friends from out of town…they show up…that’s even more money” you smirk as you look her in the eye, there’s that cunning confidence she adored, anxiety didn’t suit you. georgia finds herself leaning in, maybe to kiss you, but she aborts at the last second—turning her face and letting out a breathy chuckle,

“you’re an enigma, y/n. you’re so smart, but you get inside your own head too much, be more confident in your pitches, others are more inclined to listen to you with a good head on your shoulders” georgia advised you and you nodded, standing upright and fixing your tie. had she leaned in for a kiss? no way, you were seeing things. she was simply playing along with you, you were friends. well… she was your mom’s friend…you’re her assistant. but still…you’re kinda like friends.

“noted. thank you.” you reply quietly, leaving her office even quieter and taking a seat at the desk closest to her door—she had insisted you work there—as her assistant of course.

you work your ass off all day—desperately trying to forget about georgia, but it was hard as she always flashed you a smile everytime you glanced in her direction, like she’d already been watching you. you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten until georgia slides her hand across your keyboard—fucking up what you had been writing. you raise your head to curse out whoever just messed you up, but upon realizing who it was, the words immediately dissolve in your mouth. you turn your head back to fix what she’d done, but instead she grabs your jaw lightly, turning it to face her,

“no.”

“okay…”

georgia laughs at how easily you agreed to anything she said, reaching her hand down to rub your shoulder, “i just meant it’s 10…let me drive you home i don’t want you walking” she says sincerely and you laugh, unintentionally, but when was the last time someone got kidnapped in wellsbury? you shake your head, “it’s fine, the crime here is practically just jaywalking…and that one time you got accused of murder…so crazy”

“so crazy” georgia parrots—it seemed like her voice was strained, “but i’m serious, i’m driving you home. end of story.” it seemed as though she’d already made up her mind—shutting off your computer and spinning your chair around so you can get up. and you do. immediately.

she wraps an arm around you as you both walk out of her office and to her car.

ᯓ★

the weekend was fairly eventful for you. you had hung out with your mom and georgia on saturday—finally having the time to spend time together without talking about work. it didn’t help that she looked so much hotter out of formal clothes, you had mentioned as much. well maybe not that blunt, “you look so pretty in casual clothes” had been your exact words—what if she had been offended by that?

and sunday…well. you went clubbing with hours friends. you knew you shouldn’t have—it was a work night, but they begged and cried until you agreed. you only wanted to stay for a few hours, but you ended up so wasted you landed in another girls bed. she was older and blonde. for a second you almost thought it was georgia. go figure.

you sighed in relief upon realizing it wasn’t hers or your house you were in. you ended up having to go to work in the clothes you wore to the club last night—which wasn’t that bad, since you managed to find a blazer to button and hide your skimpy shirt. as you walked into the office, you noticed the stares—who the hell wears leather pants to the office—you imagined they thought. you tried to ignore them as you walked to your seat, you just needed to stay in your chair all day and you looked normal. you tried to just focus on your work, but it was hard with the whispers and the pounding in your head from a hangover. when it feels like your head was going to explode, you see georgia approach and place a bottle of ibuprofen down on your desk—as well as a water bottle.

“you look like you had fun last night”

“you can’t even see my pants!”

“your neck.” georgia sounded mad—and truthfully, she was. god she didn’t even know you were old enough to go clubbing, let alone follow a girl home and let her mark you up. georgia fights the urge to twitch her eye, a short breath leaving her lips, keeping a cool exterior as always.

“come to the bathroom, i’ll show you how to cover a hickey.” her voice is calmer now, but there’s an edge to it. you down the pills and quickly follow her into the bathroom—where she does exactly what she said she’d teach you. all while glancing down at your pants every few seconds, “i didn’t have time to change this morning” you chuckled out—you were nervous, she loved that. georgia let her body press a little too close against yours… so close you could feel her breath on you. you felt as though your heart would beat out of your chest everytime she drew closer.

“no judgement, i’ve had my fair share of walks of shame”

“but i don't do walks of shame! or anything like that!” you don’t even notice your voice raise as you spoke, this was so embarrassing. she thought you were a total slut. god you ruined everything. you were never going to have a chance with her so apparently you found the closest version—oh my god she could never find out who you slept with.

the walk back to your desk was silent—almost hauntingly so. georgia walked slowly behind you and you could feel her gaze fixated on you, though for a reason you couldn’t quite detect. you find yourself unable to get any work done that day—thoughts lingering to other things…like georgia. more than your thoughts had wandered to her before. once the clock hit 8 and everyone was long gone, you clicked off your computer—leaning back in your chair with a heavy sigh. you’d be able to get back on track tomorrow, you just needed time to process.

“y/n, my office please”

you look over to see georgia standing in the doorway of her office, she waits a few seconds before disappearing back into it—expecting you to follow. you do… rather nervously. were you in trouble? as you walk in, you try to fix your hair as best as possible, “am i in trouble, georgia?” you ask and she smirks—which made you more nervous.

“not at all, peach! you just didn’t seem focused today, are you alright?”

“oh yeah…i’m sorry—i’ve been distracted.”

“about last night?” she walks dangerously close to you after the accusation. you step back on instinct, but she only steps closer in response—like a lioness stalks her prey. you manage to shake your head vigorously, “no! i don’t even remember it… i was … so drunk!” you try to explain but you can’t find the words, not with georgia so close to you. she only chuckles in response, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re so cute” she whispers breathily.

you should definitely back away, this was so inappropriate. you worked for her, you were younger than her, she was friends with your mom! this was morally wrong on so many levels… but you couldn’t back away. it was like your feet were glued to the ground. georgia moves impossibly closer, her face just inches from yours—like she was waiting for something. you wanted to lean in and kiss her, but you hold back, waiting for her to make the first move. she was the expert after all.

“if you want me, take me, because i won’t make the first move” she whispered, but it almost sounded like she was shouting. your ears rung upon hearing that and you couldn’t help but listen—grabbing the sides of her face and kissing her. georgia returns the kiss immediately, grabbing your waist to push you up against her desk.

your breathing becomes labored as georgia’s lips make their way down your jaw to your neck, fingers fiddling with the blazer buttons. once she discards the blazer, her hands feel all around your waist, lips moving to your chest—leaving behind stains of red. your hands tangle in her hair as she kisses your cleavage, fingers fiddling with your belt. her hand soon finds its way into your pants, rubbing your clit gently before looking up at you with a smirk. you grab the back of her head, yanking her back into a kiss and moaning into her mouth as you feel her fingers enter you. your thoughts are too fuzzy to process the fact that you probably shouldn’t be fucking your boss on her own desk—or what would happen if your mother found out about this.

“you’re so good for me” georgia whispers onto your lips and you grip her hair tightly while whining, “you like when i call you my good girl?” she continues and your hips jerk against her fingers.

“yes…please—fuck” your words become jumbled, your mind was foggy and you could tell you were reaching the end. georgia presses further into you, lips venturing back to your jaw—not kissing hard enough to leave any lasting marks.

“you’re so pretty like this…fucked out on my desk” she mumbles—curling her fingers. you moan louder at that, your other hand gripping her shoulder tightly as you rut against her hand. it only takes one more curl of her fingers for you to cum, moaning her name as you throw your head back. when she pulls away you try to pull her back, to kiss her again, but she was much stronger than you in this state.

“get on home now, before your mother starts to worry” is all she says, ouch. but really, she was trying her best to keep herself from pouncing on you and reminding you who you belong to.

[subtle-as-an-earthquake]

sometimes i think about penny turner and how much she must love her brilliant, beautiful son, her only child, and how proud she must be of him, but how much she must've worried about him too over the years (and probably still does sometimes) and then i cry a little 🥺

gif credit @ihatealexturner [X]

more emo thoughts about this under the cut because it's just that kind of night i suppose

like, we know alex and his mum (both his parents actually) have a great relationship and they love each other very much, so i have no doubt that she's so very proud of alex for how hard he works and how driven and talented he is, so proud of everything he's achieved, knowing how much he and his creations mean to a huge number of people

but then also, how could she not worry about him, knowing that yes, he is living his dream, but he's also flying all across the world every few years, a different city every night, performing to the point of exhaustion, only to have to come up with the next big thing all over again? that's a lot of pressure on his shoulders, even if he does share a lot of it with the rest of the band. and alex handles it admirably of course, but still, if even i worry about him sometimes, i can't imagine how it must be for his mother (and father, of course, all of this probably goes for him just as much)

i also think about how she must have felt when alex moved to the usa, and how relieved she must've been when he decided to move back to the uk/europe, to have him closer again. and i wonder how she must've felt watching all those different personas and eras he created appear and disappear, maybe sometimes fearing he'd lose himself somewhere along the way, but still always seeing her boy underneath it all. i'm sure she's gotten used to it to some extent, but it must still be overwhelming sometimes, seeing all the hype and the scrutiny and the expectations and the temptations he has to deal with, especially knowing better than anyone how special and sensitive he is deep down. i can imagine she wishes she could protect him while at the same time knowing he's a big boy now, and he was always destined to make his mark on the world in a way that required him to spread his wings and leave the warm nest she'd created for him

and then i think she must also be so grateful to know that he's always got his best friends with him when he's on the road, to support him and share the load, and that he has so many more friends who adore him and always have his back, and how much of a reassurance that must be and then I just 😭😭😭😭 you know? 🥺

[mina-org]

part one - part two (youre here) - part three - part four - part five- six

warning for smut, 141 are panty sniffers! and more yanderery than the last! I have another part written but I just felt like was already dragged a lil so lmk if you want the next part! also not edited bc im lazy

“The birds just not fuckin’ into ya johnny. She never took this long to respond to me.” Simon smirks, truthfully he didn’t really remember but he was fucked off with this entire thing, not only was Johnny after his bird but texting you became a group sport, even the double text.

Simon seethes, usually you would've crawled back to him by now, you'd get drunk and call him sobbing from whatever pub you were at and you'd owe him, rinse and repeat.

At least if you were into Johnny he'd know what you were doing but now your absence started to eat at him, he just wondered your were like a deer fresh out the womb, learning to walk, how would you survive when Simon wasn't there to pick up your the pieces when you inevitably fell apart again.

simon couldnt take them fawning over you anymore so he returned to his bedroom, he had a little secret that he had to keep from those closest to him, your underwear. A collection really.

to start with, they were just tucked in his bag for when he was deployed, he’d push a pair around his cock, satin felt nice but the cream pair with little berries on? they were too cute and so you. He’d pump his cock until they were stick with his cum.

then when he was home more often and you were fucked too dumb to bounce on his cock, neglecting him after hes giving you so many? he'll remember that for next time. and really left him no choice but to scout out your discarded panties, maybe a fresh pair if you packed them, and he'd finish himself off before tugging them up your legs, his cum from earlier still leaking out your pretty pussy. something about you walking home in shame, carrying him with you, a sense of ownership simon loved.

now these panties were all he had, and he wasn't gonna share them. maybe with Johnny, if he was good.

after a week it just wasnt doing it for him anymore, he needed to see his girl but all his texts weren't sending:( and he hadn't seen you at the gym or the pilates class you spent so much money on. almost like your little temper tantrum was serious this time.

okay so it took simon a week or two to turn up begging, well demanding your forgiveness.

or he would've, if you answered the fucking door? after coming over and almost fighting your door guy a few times, he gets the hint, stealth is wealth and all that.

now here he is, staring at you through binoculars, on the rooftop opposite your building, like he's gathering intel or some shit. originally he was gonna keep this to himself, threes a crowd after all but it was chilly on the rooftop and simon is all about efficiency and your safety of course!

thing is, that pesky door man knows who simon is, and its doubtful a stick on moustache and boiler suit is gonna convince him that simon is also the buildings engineer!

through this process they've found out your building has a lot of security issues, nobody even thought about cyber security so when gaz sends out an email with a list of apartment numbers and a time, stating some maintenance was needed, no one bats an eye.

and of course you dont want any awkward conversations, like offering them tea or coffee 50 times while they try to focus but they'd think you rude if you dont and you can't ignore them, thats rude too. so you have to go out and stay out.

so you go shopping, you've been needing more underwear anyway!

soon enough John and gaz are in your apartment, putting up hidden cameras, slipping trackers into the linings of your most worn clothes, rifling through your belongings and testing out your perfume, trying to figure out which one you use daily from the memories of your scent lingering on simon and around the flat.

however gold is struck when they come across your laundry basket! feral is the best fitting word, Johnny will froth at the mouth once they tell him and of course share the bounty of their conquest.

taglist: @skeletonsucker @supernova2205 @wh0re4-alexademi @grr457

[yanderenightmare]

Genderbend Himoko Toga

♡ TW: yandere, blood, wounds, kidnapping

♡ FEM reader

He's uncomfortably tall. Lurking and towering in the corner, blade tickling his lips and smile glinting as he runs his tongue over his teeth, eyes glowing bright yellow and dead-set on you.

Many in the league are bigger than you, but Toga really takes the cake when it comes to height. He doesn’t look like much standing next to Muscular, despite sharing the same eye level, but next to you? He can't even rest his chin on the top of your head without having to bend over.

You don't often see the muscle in him, but you’re smart enough to know what’s hidden within his large beige sweater. Long serpentine arms that sling around you like a boa much too quick for you to escape and fight, joined by slender fingers that seem to curl around your everything with ease.

You don't know why you're thinking of him at a time like this. Maybe the entrapment felt similar, where you were strapped to a chair, blindfolded, surrounded by gruff voices discussing whether they should kill you to send a message or bargain for something better.

It was clear they didn't realize you didn't mean shit to the League.

Your body hurts—aches from wounds and smaller cuts you’d sustained when they'd taken you. They hadn’t played nice. But you suppose you ought to see it as respect—however misplaced—that they regarded you with the same merciless ruthlessness as if you were a real League member and not just some toy they keep around for funsies.

Suppose Toga would just get a new one now.

Your kidnappers will realize it soon enough—how no one’s coming for you. All that effort wasted—must make them mad. They’ll probably kill you before long. But right as you’re accepting your end, there’s a sudden commotion...

Angry voices turn to panicked shouting. Then silence.

You wonder what’s going on.

You hear footsteps coming closer—light ones moving slowly across the floor until stopping before you.

Cold hands cup your face in a familiar hold, sliding your blindfold off, only to reveal a pair of yellow eyes staring back at you.

"You–” Your voice comes out thin and dry. “You came..."

Toga smiles at you—that same way he always does, bright and creepy with his fangs on display. "Of course we came, silly doll,” he gushes, nose-kissing you with a humming chuckle.

There’s a scoff, and another voice, one steeped in sarcasm, drawls, "Yeah, fuck forbid Toga's favorite toy wound up in the wrong hands."

"Tch–we’d never hear the end of it…"

Standing behind your unlikely savior’s crouched form is a familiar duo—one raven and another white-haired.

"Don't listen to them, dolly. They’re too blind to see you like I do."

Toga pouts, shaking his head at their words as he brings forth his knife—blood-drenched and still dripping from the assault. You spot the bodies on the floor and can’t help but cringe. Skin rippling with shivers as he uses the same blade to cut loose the ropes binding your feet to the chair. 

Dabi shrugs, "Don't get me wrong—she’s a pretty bitch, but pretty ain't worth all this mess." He kicks one of the limp bodies they’d dropped. Blood seeping out on his shoes.

Shigaraki grins, looking at you and your bloodied face, "She ain’t too pretty no more, though.”

Dabi, too, chuckles at the sight. "Yeah, they fucked her up a bit, didn’t they.”

They both snicker. "Sure you want damaged goods, Toga?”

Again, Himiko just shakes his head and ignores them, looking at you through those slim eyes full of something that scares you way worse than the men from earlier. "We should pity them, dolly. They don't have what we have. They don't love the way we do.”

He leans over your lap, bloody hands on your thighs as he looks up at you half-mast with pupils wide like the void—forgetting to cut free your bound wrists in favor of basking in the look on your pretty face.

“You're worth everything to me. Everything and more.”

With a blush dusting his cheeks deep pink, he graces your face with his knife. You swear you see his eyes nearly roll back—elated by the red staining your otherwise smooth skin.

"They really did a little number on you, didn't they~” he sighs with a flutter in his chest, biting his lip as he leans in closer for inspection. "Hmm, maybe I should've thanked them before cutting them up.”

He zeroes in on your popped lip and licks his own—voice coming out darker with what he says next, "They made you even cuter than before…”

The other two grimace before rolling their eyes and taking their cue, leaving you to fend for yourself. Not that you expected anything else. Though, you’re starting to believe you were better off with the previous kidnappers compared to the one in front of you.

"All bloodied and bruised…” 

Toga’s eyes get misty, overwhelmed by the tasty sight. 

"Don't worry, dolly—I'll nurse you back to health."

♡ BNHA masterlist

[darkmatilda]

𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮���𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you thought that after a certain misunderstanding, your relationship had taken on a purely platonic and friendly form but then the investigation sent you to the freezing wilderness of alaska, where every night you find warmth in his bed.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x fem!bau reader, the same reader as in my story "the bolter" but it's not necessary to read it before! there are no major references, but people who have read it might treat this as a continuation (if they want to). in this story, we still have our wonderful queen elle greenaway, gideon and morgan, and many of my attempts (not always successful) at being funny. mostly smut with A LOT of plot, description of the case, oral (f receiving) and some much actions but described in a subtle way. a little bit of angst, but I wouldn't be myself if I didn't add some. again, GLASSES REID!!

𝐚/𝐧: first fic at the beginning of the month, i really wanted to post it today. i think it's time to start posting christmas-themed works? would you be interested? by the way, i hope december will treat you kind <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

“I’m freezing, God, I’m freezing.”

“Me too, look how I’m shaking, I swear, one more hour and my feet will fall off, and then my toes…”

“Guys, for god’s sake!” Morgan finally spoke up, his voice tinged with impatience. The hood of his waterproof, windproof jacket covered almost half of his face, and even so, he was clearly the lightest dressed of all of them. “We’ve landed.” He pulled off a glove to check his watch. “Just under fifteen minutes ago. You still don’t know shit about freezing, so stop complaining like a bunch of old women in a knitting cycle…”

“I’d love to be an old lady in a knitting circle right now,” you sighed, your breath immediately turning to steam. You exchanged a look with Reid, who was freezing just as much as you were, and together, you had been driving Derek crazy with your whining. You all had similar gear, thermal layers, and jackets designed for extreme conditions, but it still wasn’t enough. “Sitting by the fireplace, knitting a sweater. Gossiping with other retirees.”

“Exchanging gingerbread recipes,” Spencer suggested, his tone just as wistful.

“And sharing tips for dealing with worms in our cats’ anuses,” you added.

“I’m done," Derek muttered.

Your work often sent you to various corners of the United States, but it rarely involved Alaska. Well, due to the state’s relatively low population density compared to others, fewer crimes were committed there, especially at the federal level.

However, in recent weeks, strange disappearances had occurred—teenagers and young men. Their bodies were found in remote areas, deep in the forest or in completely uninhabited wilderness, places so isolated that even an experienced survivalist would struggle to find their way out.

The local police, as local police often do in most criminal cases, initially pretended there wasn’t a problem, insisting the victims had died as a result of tragic accidents, simply getting lost during a hike. But when the number of deaths began to rise, and the victims included even high school students—locals who were well aware of the dangers of wandering alone after dark in such perilous areas—the case landed on JJ’s desk.

And so, you found yourselves in the brutally frigid surroundings of Fairbanks, heading toward the inn where you were supposed to drop off your things and immediately dive into the investigation.

"The temperature this week is going to range from 15 to 5 degrees Fahrenheit," Spencer informed you over his shoulder as he opened the car trunk to retrieve the luggage. "Of course, that's during the day. At night, it’ll drop as low as -4 degrees."

Elle shivered as he handed her her bag.

"I was doing just fine without those numbers," she said, nudging you lightly with her shoulder—a touch you barely felt through the thick layers of clothing. "What do you say we make up for this with a New Year’s trip? Mallorca? The Himalayas?"

"I’m dreaming of the Caribbean," Morgan chimed in. "Beaches, sunshine, and cocktails—that’s what I’ll be dreaming of tonight."

"And half-naked sunbathers," you added.

"And half-naked sunbathers," he agreed with a grin.

Elle trudged ahead, sinking into the snow up to her calves. The inn was a sizable wooden building, adorned with balconies and terraces that, given the weather, likely went unused, though they added considerable charm. It was tucked away in a secluded spot, offering privacy and a peaceful atmosphere—ideal for work.

You lingered by the car, waiting for Reid to grab his things, unwilling to leave him behind.

“Do you know much about the northern lights, Rudolph?” you teased, nodding toward his red-tipped nose. “I’ve always dreamed of seeing them.”

“Well, then you’re in luck,” he replied, looking at you with a slight smile. “We’re in one of the best places to see them, during the season with the longest nights. They’ll be visible pretty early, though the most stunning views will probably happen between ten at night and two in the morning. I’ve always wanted to see them in person too.”

"So, what do you think?" you asked, raising your eyebrows. "Midnight, at my door, and we’ll go play aurora hunters?"

You shivered just at the thought. Of course, you were joking—there was no way you'd even stick a single hand out from under the covers at this hour with those freezing nighttime temperatures. You planned to admire the beautiful phenomenon from your room window. Warm, you hoped.

"Alright. Just make sure you bundle up,"

 "Sure. Thermal thong and all that."

Your room was on the same floor as Elle's and JJ's, and you were glad to have them just behind the next door. Unpacking took you only a minute, and within that time, you were all together, sitting as a team, going through the case files.

“These boys were so young,” JJ remarked, shaking her head with a hint of dread. “Sixteen, the youngest, twenty-four, the oldest. They were found in such remote locations that if it hadn’t been for the ongoing professional search and the dogs, who knows how long it would have taken before anyone stumbled upon their bodies.”

“Given the heavy snowfall, they might not have been found until the thaw. What do their parents and families say about all of this?” Hotch asked.

“Unanimously, they believe their kids would never have ventured that far on their own. This is where the mystery starts, though, because there were no wounds on their bodies, except for the ones they inflicted on themselves in their attempts to survive in the cold.”

“So, it looks like someone kidnapped them, drove them out to a place you’d never get out of without serious survival skills, and just left them to die?” Derek asked, baffled.

“Seems that way. Yesterday, an eighteen-year-old named David Moore was reported missing. Normally, it probably would have been classified as a delayed return home or maybe a runaway, and the police wouldn’t have even taken the report. But given the current circumstances and the rising panic among the locals, his parents decided not to wait. A wise decision.”

"How many hours has it been since he went missing?" you asked, running your own grim calculations in your head. "Around eight, right? Is it even possible for him to survive the night out there in these conditions?"

"That depends on what he was wearing and the specific location where he was left," Reid explained, thoughtfully cleaning the lenses of his glasses. You realized it had been a while since you’d seen him wearing them—he used to wear them daily, but lately, it was only on occasion. For a moment, you found yourself staring at his face, liking how the dark frames suited it.

"His parents believe he was likely abducted on his way home from tutoring," Elle noted, flipping through the case file. "People around here dress warmly as a habit, but even so, I doubt his everyday clothes would be particularly suited to weather like this. At night. In the middle of the woods."

An uncomfortable silence followed her words, broken only by Hotch clearing his throat.

"Anyway, we need to join the ongoing search efforts. We’ll be more useful out in the field than trying to build a profile with the scraps of information we have. I’m not sure if I need to remind you, but out of habit, I will: be cautious and don’t, under any circumstances, stray from the search group. They know this area."

Before you all moved out to get to work, Reid shot you a fleeting glance. Like a dad, you mouthed silently, and he let out the faintest chuckle. You both enjoyed spotting those unmistakably parental tendencies in your boss, though they were directed at you and the rest of the team.

Hours of searching had, unfortunately, yielded no results—the crushing pressure of time bore down on you all. The knowledge that each passing moment was stripping this boy of his chances for survival felt almost unbearable. If he had somehow managed to survive the first eight hours in the forest, sixteen seemed an increasingly unlikely feat.

And yet, hope lingered. The group, driven by his distraught family, refused to stop, likely continuing to scour the area despite warnings. Meanwhile, you stood in your hotel room, so close to the window that the cold glass brushed against your nose.

Your thoughts were consumed by the case and the fate of the teenager. Just as Reid had said, the sky was illuminated by that breathtaking greenish glow. Watching it felt almost surreal, and you wanted to take in as much of it as your eyes could hold.

If it weren’t for the fact that you had frozen to your very core during the search, you might have stepped outside to see it more clearly. 

Just as the thought crossed your mind, there was a knock at your door.

You furrowed your brow, not expecting anyone. When you opened it, you came face to face with none other than Spencer. Well, it was hard to tell it was him at first. He was bundled up so tightly in layers of warm clothes that his body lost its natural shape and resembled more of a puffy ball than a person.

"Hey," he greeted awkwardly, raising his hand hesitantly and scanning your appearance from head to toe. "You're not ready yet. Sorry, I think I came too early. I thought we were meeting at midnight..."

"We were meeting?"

"For the northern lights hunt, you forgot? I checked the Kp index, it's a measure of aurora activity that determines its intensity, and it turns out tonight is really favorable... wait, why are you laughing?"

His furrowed brows and face, barely visible in the dimly lit hallway but clearly confused, only made you laugh harder. Shaking your head in disbelief, you covered your smile with your hand.

"Spencer, I was joking," you said, suddenly feeling guilty that your sarcasm had led him to spend time and effort preparing for a night out. "There’s no way I'm going out in this cold. I’d rather dive headfirst into boiling water, at least that would be warmer."

“Oh,” he let out a short, disappointed sigh. He quickly nodded, as if trying to accept the situation, and forced a more neutral expression. “I—I really thought you were serious. Sorry for... for waking you up, then.”

For a moment, you stood in silence, your hand resting on the doorframe. An odd, unexpected thought sprinted through your mind. It had been such a long time since the two of you had been together like this, late at night, in the same room...

“Well, in that case,” he cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry again. Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen, okay? Forget I came here and embarrassed myself. That’s all. Sorry. I should probably go if I want to avoid being completely sleep-deprived tomorrow...”

“Go where?” you interrupted, suddenly standing straighter, alarmed.

“Aurora hunting.”

“By yourself? Spencer, have you lost your mind?”

He opened and closed his mouth, caught off guard by your outburst.

“Well, I don’t know when I’ll ever get another chance like this, being in the Arctic Circle...”

“It’s pitch dark and freezing cold. You don’t know the area—”

“...I’ve had a chance to look around, and I’m not going far. There’s a small hill just behind the inn—”

“...And there’s a freaking serial killer on the loose around here, did you forget?”

“Well, I have a gun.”

“Well, I’m not letting you go,” you cut him off firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. Spencer tilted his head, clearly ready to argue further, but before he could speak, you added, “Give me five minutes.”

“What?”

“Five minutes to get dressed. I’m coming with you.”

At first, you could have sworn a faint smile flickered across his lips. But then, just as quickly, he shook his head vehemently.

“No, really, you don’t have to. Not just because of me. I’ll be fine…”

"Five minutes," you repeated once more, slightly flustered and trying not to dwell on the fact that the moment you stepped outside, you’d likely regret this decision. “Wait here. Or come inside—I don’t want to shut the door in your face.” As you spoke, you opened the door wider, inviting him in.

Without wasting another second, you headed straight for your suitcase. Okay, how many layers does one need for a night outside in Alaska?

“I actually bought a set of thermal underwear specifically for this case,” you said, pulling out the essentials from your bag. Most of what you’d worn during the day would work fine, but you debated adding an extra sweater and another pair of socks. “And, oh my God, I hate it. I’d rather wear lace thongs 24/7 than spend more than eight hours in this bugger.”

You glanced subtly over your shoulder, curious to see his reaction and waiting for his reply. It wasn’t like you wanted to embarrass him, but you absolutely adored how, in response to even your most suggestive remarks, he could always respond with complete seriousness—like he was dissecting some profound issue. Judging by the furrow of his brow, this time would be no different.

“Really? You know, thermal underwear is generally associated with comfort. The fabric is typically elastic, soft, and breathable. High-quality models are even seamless, so they don’t cause any chafing. Maybe you bought a poorly fitted one?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, I have no expertise in this area. It digs in so much, though, and I have to keep myself from adjusting it. Can you imagine me sticking my hand in my pants right in front of the missing boy’s family?”

He hesitated before responding.

“Not really. But I can picture Hotch’s face.”

“And I can picture a termination notice on my desk the next day,” you quipped.

You grabbed all the clothes you had gathered and disappeared into the bathroom to layer them on. It wasn’t a quick job—by the end, you felt like your movements were completely restricted by the weight of it all—but at least you were prepared. When the first merciless blast of Alaskan air brushed against the tiny exposed part of your face, it didn’t immediately make you want to run back inside screaming. 

Instead, you sighed in awe.

"I know I’ve invoked God's name a hundred times already, but God, this is beautiful," you said, feeling your own words too inadequate to describe the miracle above your heads. The streaks of light stretching across the sky, an intense green with a certain transparency, a glassy quality, the stars peeking through it all.

 Spencer turned to you over his shoulder. He was only a couple of steps ahead, but he kept doing it as if afraid that in a moment of not seeing you, you'd fall into the snow and disappear forever.

“Wait until we get to the spot,” he said, his smile clearly excited. In his dark eyes, the light seemed to reflect and stay there, even when he blinked, as though he had already absorbed it all deep inside. “It’s only ten minutes away, but it makes a difference.”

"I hope you're not one of those people who says, 'Oh, it's just around the corner, we don't need a cab!' and then leads you to walk halfway across the city" you scoffed. You tried to keep your gaze fixed on his back, his lantern swinging in his hand. Alaska, the vast empty terrain, the thick layers of snow, seemed to hide some sort of mystery beneath them, and it filled you with a fair amount of fear. "Will you shield me with your chest if a bear jumps out at us?"

"Actually, yes, I would," he replied. "But not because of heroism, it's more because I have bear spray in my pocket, and by that very fact, it's probably my duty."

"Okay, let’s make a deal: you protect us from a potential bear attack, and I’ll take care of Bigfoot. By the way, that legend never really scared me. A monkey with gigantic feet just sounds too ridiculous to me. Remember that episode of History's Mysteries that we watched at your place?"

You both shared a love for a certain TV show about conspiracy theories and famous mysteries from around the world.

 "Of course. You know part of it was filmed right here in Fairbanks? Bigfoot never really fascinated me either, but I liked that at the end of the episode they also mentioned other Alaskan legends. Like The Kushtaka, for example."

"I don't remember that. But I'm not sure I want you to tell me," you confessed, taking a breath, the cold biting into your lungs. Despite the layers of clothing, it was getting colder and colder, but at least you'd finally reached the spot Spencer had chosen. He was right; the vast plain on the small hill was perfect for watching the aurora. You had the feeling that the sky was only an inch above your head, and a childlike urge to reach up and touch it. "Alright, you've got me too intrigued. Go ahead."

You noticed that, unlike you, Spencer wasn't tilting his head back to gaze at the sky. He was looking at you.

"The Kushtaka is a creature from the folklore of the surrounding tribes. It is most often described as a hybrid of a human and an otter..."

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

"Otters, seriously? Is that supposed to chill me to the bone?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow in a somewhat sarcastic manner.

"Okay, let me tell you the story differently," he proposed in a similar tone, swallowing as if to prepare himself for the tension-building drop in his voice. "Just like now, we're heading out to see the northern lights. Just the two of us, surrounded by nothing but darkness. The sky is overcast that day, and there’s hardly any light to see." At that moment, he switched off the flashlight he was holding, and his previously well-lit face faded into obscurity. You crossed your arms over your chest, silently promising yourself you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being scared.

“In this story, do my thermal undies also ride up so uncomfortably?”

“Your underwear isn’t a significant part of this tale. Anyway… crap, where was I?”

“The thought of my underwear distracted you?”

You heard him sigh, almost in exasperation, and a sly smile spread across your face.

“Let me continue. No more comments about underwear.”

“My underwear or in general?”

“SO WE’RE HEADING TO SEE THE NORTHERN LIGHTS. It’s dark, it’s creepy, and you’ve got chills running down your spine. Then suddenly, you realize you’ve lost me.”

“Phew,” you exhaled with theatrical relief. “Finally got rid of that creep who kept obsessing over my underwear.”

"You know what, I’m done. I’m done. I won’t tell you the story about the human-otter hybrid."

“I’m devastated by this fact!” you assured him in the same overly dramatic tone. Taking it a step further, you jumped toward him, desperately grabbing the fabric of his jacket. “Dr. Reid, please, I beg you, tell me about the human-otter hybrid. I need this. I’ll sell my soul and body, just please…”

Spencer threw his head back, laughing, and as you tried to calm yourself down, you leaned against him. Taken by surprise, he lost his balance, sending both of you toppling into the snow.

“Damn, we’re going to be wet!” he groaned, trying to get up from the deep snowdrift you both had fallen into. It wasn’t the easiest task with all the layers of clothing and a girl who was dying of laughter on top of him.

“I think that’s enough of our aurora watching,” you said once you both finally managed to get back on your feet. Despite the ski pants and very, very warm clothes, you were starting to feel frozen. “And enough of your legends. It’s late, and we should head back.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he complained, sounding like a little puppy that had been scolded for peeing on the carpet.

“You can tell me on the way,” you replied. “Come on.”

You sent one last glance toward the sky before moving forward, your mind focused entirely on the vision of a hot, soothing bath and a blanket with an extra layer for warmth. For the rest of the walk, Spencer didn’t try to use his low voice or mysterious narrative tone. He finished the story in his usual manner, sounding more like a fascinated lecturer. You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed—he had sounded really sexy earlier, you had to admit.

When you both got back to the guesthouse, you glanced at the stairs leading up to your room and shook your head in refusal.

“If I don’t get under at least five blankets right this second, I’m going to die, so sorry my dear, but I’m coming to you and I won’t leave until I’m warm, or I’ll never leave at all,” you said quickly and firmly.

Spencer raised an eyebrow but replied just as energetically.

“I don’t think I have five blankets in my room.”

“Three will be fine.”

And that's exactly how it went. First, you took off your jackets, and then, in your typical everyday clothes, you quickly jumped into bed, covered with the duvet up to your neck, waiting for the pleasant warmth to spread across your bodies.

“Was seeing the aurora worth all that suffering?' you asked, turning onto your side in bed so you could face him.

'Well, it wouldn't have been suffering if someone hadn't shoved both of us into the snow...'

He said this while lying on his back, but shortly after these words, he followed your lead and also turned onto his side. Your breath became shallower. It had been almost a year since you last had him this close, almost a year since you slept together, and then decided to let the situation fade into oblivion.

Honestly, you almost succeeded. After all, that incident was like every other encounter you had with guys. Spontaneous, one-time, followed by bolting. But you didn’t see those other guys afterward. Every day at work, forced to watch him wipe his glasses, his damn glasses, with the same fingers he…

“Are you thinking about something specific?” he suddenly asked, his voice eerily similar to the one he used to tell you the story on the hill, a voice you found so sexy.

That was the kind of man Spencer Reid was. Always wanting to know what was going on inside your head.

You sighed, probably too loudly.

"You don't want to know what I'm thinking right now," 

You felt a little pathetic, realizing that your whole excuse about not being able to go to your room was just a pretext to end up in his bed. Once again. This whole trip to Alaska must have really messed with your head. Or maybe it cleared the fog in your mind and left a single thought, naked and defenseless. You wanted him. 

"I know how pathetic that sounds, but I always want to know what you're thinking," he replied after a moment, swallowing audibly. You heard it clearly, you were so close. So close...

You had to make a quick decision: whether to continue and face the consequences the next day, or, perhaps worse, to be rejected? It was possible that he had learned from your last time together, and didn’t want to get involved with you that way.

"I can show you what I'm thinking," you finally proposed, not blinking for a long moment, just carefully studying the features of his face, any signs of uncertainty or tension. 

Because there was that one small seed of probability that he wanted you too.

His lips parted, but were immediately covered by your kiss. 

Slow and curious. How did he taste after all this time? 

Maybe it was a thought whispered by the moment, but you had the feeling that even better. 

You didn’t play the role of a taster for too long. Soon, still not pulling his lips away from yours, you lifted yourself into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your elbow on the bed, pressing closer to him with every passing moment, more intensely and hungrily. 

Something seemed to haunt you, preventing you from moving any further. Something in his posture—lying on his back, surrendered to your control, yet somehow absent.

You pulled away from his lips, your gazes meeting. There was a certain weakness and sadness in his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you managed to ask, your voice strangely trembling.

Spencer suddenly sat up, straightening himself, though there was still a slight bend in his shoulders. His movement forced you to pull away from his chest.

"I can't do this," he confessed quietly, taking a deep breath. "I can't sleep with you." In a way, it hurt more than if he had simply refused to let you kiss him. Your forehead furrowed in disappointment and... shock?

"Why?" you asked directly, foregoing any excuses about not aiming for that. Because you had been.

He let out a laugh, filled with pity.

"Because after this, I won’t be able to stop thinking about you. And you, after tonight, won’t want me anymore."

You were breathing heavily, completely unsure of what to say. His words were painfully eye-opening, first and foremost. And secondly... true. Because did you plan, like a normal person, to wake up next to him, greet him, date him? That wasn’t how you operated. In your plans, there was always just one option—escape. Exactly like that time.

You slowly began to slide off the bed, his hand moved to reach for yours, and you hoped he would take it, but at the last moment, he hesitated. He hesitated.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," you reassured him, yet you didn’t look at him the whole time. You sounded stiff, almost reproachful, even though you were the one who should be reproached. You were the problem.

You looked around the floor, used to picking up your clothes from it, but this time there was nothing. Except for the jacket hung up and the ski pants you’d pulled on over your regular ones to avoid freezing in the cold night. Leaving without a word seemed excessive.

Your back rested against the door as you turned to look at him. Your quick-thinking mind raced, searching for something to say to at least salvage some dignity in this situation…

“Let’s pretend this didn’t happen,” you finally suggested.

Spencer was still sitting on the edge of the bed, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to get up or stay there. Eventually, it seemed like he stayed, though you weren’t sure, having already turned toward the door, your hand pressing on the doorknob.

“T-think that’s the best solution,” he admitted, just as one of your feet stepped into the hallway.

Then, you heard someone whistling.

You immediately stepped back into his room, keeping your face turned toward the door.

“Damn, it’s Morgan,” you said, recognizing the person in the hallway by the sound alone. “We better not let him see me leave, or he’ll never leave us alone…”

You expected that when you turned around, you’d find him still sitting on the bed. After all, you hadn’t heard him get up, hadn’t heard him approach. You certainly didn’t expect that, when you turned, his lips would almost immediately attack yours.

It was so unexpected, so sudden, that the back of your head slammed against the door.

“Fuck, sorry…”

But you didn’t think for a second about the pain, nor did you focus on why Spencer had suddenly changed his mind. Your attention was solely on the two of you, two desperate pairs of lips pressing together and pulling apart, never staying away for long.

He pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around your waist. Unlike the last time, it was your back that hit the mattress first. The cool surface, the heated bodies, and the weight of the layers of clothing between you both.

"You've changed," you noticed.

A different dynamic. The pace was set by him—just moments ago, you were standing by the door, and now, half of your clothes were gone, while the soft skin of your neck was buried under a cascade of messy, impatient kisses.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his face hovering above yours, one hand resting on the bed next to it.

"I haven't gotten enough to say for sure," you replied, teasingly. "But I get the feeling you're more confident now. A lot of practice since last time?"

He shrugged.

"I don't think it's about practice," he said, his hand sliding down your side until it stopped at the waistband of your pants, lingering there but not moving any lower. You reached for his hand, brushing against it before trailing your fingers along its length up to his forearm, feeling one of his veins beneath your fingertips. "I guess... I was just scared you'd leave, and I had to stop you somehow. That’s why I rushed," he admitted.

His gaze lingered mostly on your face, but it wandered across your body, his frustration clear as he eyed the layers of clothing still in his way. Something about his desperation and impatience stirred something playful in you, and you couldn’t resist teasing him.

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you tilted your chin to look at him.

 “If I tried to leave right now, how would you stop me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched at your question, but he decided to play along, nodding thoughtfully.

“I think I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Care to show me?” you asked, your voice dripping with challenge.

For a moment, he didn’t move at all, just kept staring at you, until he allowed himself that first, utterly shameless drop of his gaze and a soft sigh. His lips began their journey, starting at their usual, safe spot on your neck, trailing toward your shoulder, and crossing over your collarbone with deliberate intent. You were still half-sitting, struggling to steady your breathing so your chest wouldn’t rise and fall too much or too quickly, trying not to disrupt him. The first hint of uncertainty appeared between your breasts when his kisses momentarily softened, carefully exploring unfamiliar territory and testing your sensitivity.

You struggled more and more to keep yourself from collapsing fully onto the mattress. But when his cool tongue met your skin, pressing against it so firmly that his forehead brushed against your stomach, relentlessly moving lower, you couldn’t hold out any longer.

He was between your knees, bent in anticipation. He reached them, sliding his hands down your thighs and coaxing them to relax. He fumbled a bit while unbuttoning your pants, and had trouble sliding them down while you were lying there. You lifted your hips to help, even tried to do it yourself, but he stopped your hands, placing them above your head.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said softly, finally freeing your legs from both pant legs. His hands wrapped around your ankles, his thumb tracing gentle circles around one of them, which somehow completely seized your attention, and you focused solely on that subtle motion. For a moment, you closed your eyes, and when you opened them again, you noticed that his chin was just above your panty line. "Actually, it will be much more pleasant for you if you just focus on feeling and nothing else. I was supposed to show you my ideas, remember?"

“As someone who apologized for being in too much of a hurry, you sure have an unexpectedly large amount of patience now,” you remarked with reproach, lifting your head again. Maybe keeping it down allowed for more comfort and relief for your neck, but on the other hand, the sight of his face immersed between your thighs was simply priceless.

If the sight itself was priceless, how do you describe that feeling?

With every move of his tongue, your hips swayed, adjusted to the rhythm. Often tense, trying to find some outlet, especially when sighs escaped his lips and his cool breath penetrated through you.

"Think I'm gonna cume embarrassingly quickly," you confessed, unsure whether he even understood anything from your sentence, which was at least interwoven with two moans. Three.

When it happened, you uncontrollably squeezed his head with your knees, a similar groan also came from his mouth. 

Spender didn’t stay in that position for long. When you opened your tightly shut eyelids, his face was right above yours, stretched in such satisfaction, as if he was the one receiving pleasure.

"Was it too quick for you?" he asked, still absorbing you with the same gaze, which seemed to pulse with desire. "If you want, we can try again, you’ll surely improve..."

"My God, when did you become so cocky?"

He chuckled, but instead of answering, he once again pressed himself against your body and skin, closing his eyes in devotion and lingering on each spot for as long as it took, as if he could never be satisfied, no matter how much he took in. 

Your hands, instead of tormenting the innocent fabric of the blanket, moved to his back, tightly embracing his neck and basically everything they could latch onto. All of his earlier composure seemed to evaporate; you didn’t even have to ask twice to make him slide in. It actually sounded more like an order than a request, a bit desperate, it's true, but still an order.

"How is it even possible that it feels even better than the last time?” His words, his lips, ticked your neck as he moaned out this question. "Just... I feel like I won’t have enough of you tonight."

"The night is long," you said, almost into the air, not really paying attention to the meaning behind it. "Tomorrow night too."

Spencer stopped, completely. His eyes desperately searched for yours, and when he finally found them, they widened in disbelief.

"Tomorrow night too?" he repeated. "But I thought... I thought you didn't want anything more than a one-night fling…”

"It's already our second," you reminded him. "And I'll be completely honest with you, I don’t want to walk around all day tomorrow sexually frustrated just at the sight of you. Let's make a deal, okay?"

"A deal?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it in a moment, but right now...Oh God, I think I’m gonna…”

You both got dressed right after, but not because either of you intended to leave. The temperature inside simply didn’t allow for sleeping naked, no matter how warm you were after sex.

"So?" he asked, handing you the piece of paper you had sent him to the bathroom for. Then he sat on the bed, facing you. "What did you mean by this deal?"

"Well, after thinking about it, I'm not sure if it's a good idea after all..."

"I want to know, even if just out of curiosity."

"You want to know everything, Spence. But fine. I thought maybe... while we're in Alaska, we could just, you know, allow ourselves to do whatever we want. In more direct terms, fuck each other as much as we want.”  

It sounded a bit...crazy? Spencer kept his gaze suspended in the air for a moment before turning it back to you, questioning.

"But only as long as we're in Alaska?"

"Exactly. Since there's only one floor between us, why not take advantage of it?" you tried to joke, lightening the mood.

It didn’t seem to have much effect on him.

"But what happens next? When we get back?"

"Do we really have to think about that?" you wondered, moving closer to him, to the body that just moments ago made you feel so good. "We'll get used to being apart, just like before."

"Okay," he sucked in a breath, clearly torn over the proposal. "I mean, no, I didn’t mean okay... because it doesn’t seem like a great idea, but on the other hand... on the other hand, I really, really want you, even if it only means for this short time."

You smiled, though deep down, somewhere very deep, there was something somber in that gesture. 

Ignoring that, you kissed him to seal the deal. And not just that.

"That was for good night and goodbye."

"Goodbye? You're leaving?" A clear look of disappointment crossed his face, but he quickly shook his head, trying to get rid of it. "Good night, then."

 "It's not that I don't want to stay. It's just that it would be better to be well-rested for work, and I don't think we'd sleep properly if I decided to spend the night here. “

You saw him open his mouth, ready to protest, but you had already gotten up from the bed and started gathering your remaining things.

"Wait," he called as you were about to leave. "You said... you said something that's been bothering me, you know? I can even quote it, so listen up. You said that you don't want to walk around all day tomorrow sexually frustrated just at the sight of me."

You couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter.

"And that bothers you?"

"I don’t understand what you meant by that. What in my behavior makes you feel that way?"

"A lot of things."

"Like what?"

"I'll tell you someday. Maybe it's better if you're not aware of it."

"Hey, now I won’t be able to sleep!"

"Anyway, good night, sweet boy."

*

Almost the first thing in the morning, you found yourselves at the local police station, full of disappointment and anxiety. You had to inform the parents of the missing boy found in the forest that he had been located. But unfortunately, it was not good news.

The first hours of the day passed in constant analysis and discussion, until finally, around noon, you gathered in front of the town's police officers, ready to deliver the profile. You didn’t have much time for any reflection on the previous night, or even for a conversation with Spencer. A sober one this time, when you weren’t intoxicated by desire and each other.

You stood in the corner of the room, listening to Hotch and Gideon.

"The UNSUB is a white male, likely with military experience or, at the very least, extensive survival skills, estimated to be around 50-60 years old. He abducts teenagers, boys, and young men who look younger than their actual age, which suggests he doesn’t know his victims very well."

"If he observes them, it’s for a short period. He doesn’t have time to get to know them but understands their routine and daily schedule well enough to know when to strike."

"He doesn’t drug his victims, which means he is physically capable of abducting them without assistance. This ties into the type of victims he selects. All these boys were more the intellectual type than athletes. When abducted, they were coming from school, tutoring sessions, or the library. David Moore, for instance, was tall but lanky. His family described him as gentle, with a big heart and a passion for learning."

"The UNSUB abandons them in remote forest locations. Forcing them to fight for survival gives him a sense of control and serves as a way to prove his belief that modern society and boys today are incapable of handling adversity. He openly despises them, viewing them as weak and effeminate. His mindset reflects a toxic approach to gender roles and what he considers the traditional male archetype."

“White men aged 50-60 with survival skills make up about half the population here,” a policeman noted. “Take me, for example…”

Hotch began providing more detailed information, while Gideon stepped out of the center of the room, and the atmosphere became more relaxed.

You approached Reid, who was sitting in a chair, and ruffled his hair with your hand.

“Watch your back, genius-boy,” you warned, standing behind him. From his seat, he tilted his head all the way back to look up at you. A smile instantly appeared on his face.

“You might just be next. And we wouldn’t want that.”

“So, you think I’m effeminate?”

"I know very well that you're not. But you do have that intellectual spark in your eyes. And, you know, those glasses don’t help."

Ever since you’d been in Alaska, he’d worn them less often because, as he’d told you while chatting in bed, they kept fogging up. But now, they were perched on his nose, making him look... delectable. Simply delectable.

The rest of your team approached, Elle's gaze lingering on your hand resting on the back of Reid's chair. As usual, she had to notice everything.

"I need to send you all to a few places to check out some individuals the police have identified as matching the profile," Hotch announced. "Y/N and Elle, I’d like you to speak again with the bus driver who drove David Moore just before he was abducted. Once he understands the profile, he might be able to recall more details."

You lingered in the room, wanting to exchange a word with Spencer. In complete privacy... He was slowly wiping his glasses, as if hoping for the same. Watching the movements of his hands, you shook your head.

"This is it—what you asked me about yesterday. What makes me sexually frustrated. Our agreement still stands, right?" you asked, running your hand along his shoulder, just to touch him. Even though the many layers of clothing made it almost impossible to really feel him.

He looked at the glasses he was cleaning, then at you, disbelief written all over his face.

"That's what you meant? Cleaning glasses?"

"Don't judge me. It's about the motion. Or maybe the glasses themselves, I don't know. Maybe I’m a fetishist. Anyway, are you going to answer my question?"

Still seated in the chair, he had to tilt his head back to look at you, which reminded you—just a little, okay, a lot—of another situation where he was down below.

"What about you?" he countered. "You haven’t changed your mind?"

"Absolutely not."

"In that case, yes. It still stands."

“Oh, I don’t know what I’d do if you’d answered differently. See you tonight, then,” you promised, glancing around the room to make sure none of your team members were still there. Just a few local officers... who weren’t paying much attention to you. Even if they were, it wasn’t their business.

You leaned in quickly to kiss him. He closed his eyes, as if hoping for more.

“Not now, and not here. I need to go find Elle. Hotch gave us an assignment. Have a good one.”

You walked away, feeling his gaze on your back.

You found your friend in the car, one of those suited for tough terrain, with high tires. She was sitting behind the wheel, tapping her nails on it.

"So, what was the address of that driver?" you asked, fastening your seatbelt.

"Forgive my bluntness, darling, but I’ll die if I don’t know. What was that all about?"

"What do you mean, ‘What was that all about’?"

"Oh, come on, you know exactly what I mean. Messing with his hair, the chair, the looks. Are you two sleeping together again?"

You technically had no reason to hide anything from her, after all, you trusted her completely and had never hesitated to talk about your sex life. But this time... you kind of liked the idea of keeping whatever happened between you and Spencer just between the two of you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. We're just acting like we usually do," you said.

"Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow, slowly pulling away from the police station, her gaze shifting between the road and you. "Then what were those sounds last night from his room?"

"Oh shit, did we make noise?"

She smiled triumphantly.

"I don't know, you tell me. I'm just teasing you. I'm on a completely different floor. But I'll take that as an admission of guilt."

"Manipulative bitch!"

"I'll take that as a compliment. So?"

You rolled your eyes with a heavy sigh, but eventually, you confirmed her suspicion with a nod.

"I thought you didn't sleep with the same guy twice."

"The air in Alaska really does something strange to me."

"Sure. The air," she scoffed, and you furrowed your brows in slight confusion, looking at her, waiting for her to elaborate. The car glided along one of those completely empty, snow-covered roads where there was nothing to focus on. "You know, I wonder why you just don't admit that you like him?"

"I don't hide the fact that I like him."

"Then why not give it a try?"

"Try what, Elle?"

She glanced at you sideways, her lips tightening at your obviously irritated tone. She didn't mean to upset you, of course, but that's how you felt. She sighed, as if thinking about how to approach the subject.

"You've learned to live with it," she finally began, slowly and cautiously weighing her words. "With that fear. Of intimacy and commitment."

"It's just a preference."

"No, it's not a preference. It's fear. You're afraid that if you get emotionally close to someone, you'll be abandoned, and you don't want to risk another painful loss. You want to have full control over the relationship and disappear when you feel like it's fading. Usually in the morning. It's a common mechanism, and it's not just about you. And no mechanism can be broken without making an attempt."

"Elle, stop. You're profiling me, and you know how much I hate that."

And actually, you hated being confronted with the truth about yourself and being internally forced to draw conclusions about yourself.

It was easy, living without reflecting on oneself. Especially when those reflections were painful. You could hurt yourself, unsuccessfully trying to confront them, or flow along with their current, completely subordinated to them and deaf to the words of others, who said you were only hurting yourself in the bigger picture.

 Elle dropped the subject, as you had arrived at the house of the man you were supposed to interview. She didn’t bring it up again afterward. The hours at work passed, and you only waited for that specific moment when you'd cross the threshold of that room again.

The previous night danced vividly in your mind, never slowing down or taking a break for a moment. As soon as he opened the door, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his face, and unbuckling his belt.

Spencer took a sharp breath, shocked and amused, as soon as you touched him.

"It would be incredibly awkward if someone were at my place right now," he chuckled into your mouth, half of his sentence drowned out by your kiss.

You pulled your face away just slightly, raising your eyebrows. It was only then that you noticed he was wearing glasses. Oh, he was so completely unaware of what you were about to do to him...

"How many people do you bring to yourself every night?" you asked.

"In that regard, only you. Besides, this is only the second time, so I wouldn’t call it every night... but I could always be here with someone, talking..."

"Keeping each other warm," you added.

Your hands slid under the fabric of his clothes, brushing the lower part of his stomach.

He noticeably tensed under your fingers, swallowing slowly, impatient and pleading.

"Engaging in a worldview discussion and exchanging conclusions," he finished, a smile playing on his lips.

"Uh-huh. Exactly like we are now. Honestly, does that turn you on? Do you want me to share my political views while you’re eating me out?” 

"This is probably the only scenario in which you could make me not feel pleasure because of it."

His hands hesitated, roaming uncertainly across your body, unsure of where to start. They brushed over so many spots, moving from one to the next, chaotic and desperate. 

You didn’t know where to focus – on the lips in the hollow of your neck, on the hand on your hips, or the other, slipping lower and lower?

Or perhaps on that sound, right by your ear, sweet, pleading whimper?

Moan left your body just for that reason and you already knew how you wanted the rest of the night to unfold. 

You gently pushed him back, and with quickened breath, you dropped to one knee, then the other.

"After yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about you," you confessed, making sure your lips were close enough to his body as you spoke. You heard him inhale sharply, whispering something under his breath. "I couldn't focus on work at all. So today, I want to take care of you, completely."

You thought he would be satisfied with the offer; well, it was hard to deny that he was. Still, for some reason, he started shaking his head.

"N-no, that's not... I want to do it. Take care of you, I mean."

You couldn’t stop smiling, but at the same time, you weren’t about to back down, which should probably be enough to describe the dynamics of the following hours. 

At times, it was brutally slow, while at other moments, it was hurried and impressive. Sometimes, you interrupted each other constantly, unable to stop talking, and at other times, the only sound filling the room was your two breaths, the only constant, restless, and laced with moans and cries.

"You’re not leaving me tonight, right?" he asked, drawing closer to your body and holding you almost pleadingly. You laughed against his skin, shaking your head in denial.

 "At some point, I will have to. For about fifteen minutes, before everyone wakes up."

 "You’ll say you just came by for something. To ask a question or something," he tried to convince you.

 "Oh, at this early hour, looking like I’ve just done a two-hour workout? Derek would eat us alive. His eyebrow would never drop again. If I ever end up in hell, it will be with him there, looking at me like that." You tried to mimic his expression, tensing your jaw as you did.

"Stop, I feel harassed."

"You see? And if he found out about us, this is how the next... God, I can’t even predict when he’d get tired of it. Maybe in a year. Do you want to suffer for another whole year just to be with me for an extra fifteen minutes?"

 "I’d be able to survive that," he declared quietly, placing his hand under your head and playing with your hair with one of his fingers. "But if you don’t want it, I’m not going to waste time and try to convince you."

"Sure," you scoffed playfully. "So many things could be done in that time."

"Like what?" he asked, clearly intrigued. "Try to sleep. What were you hoping for?"

"Nothing, nothing. But you used a plural in that sentence and then only gave one thing. So, I’m waiting for the rest."

"That’s an overinterpretation."

"More like a simple analysis of sentence structure."

"Maybe sometimes it's better to analyze a little less. Spencer."

 "I don’t think I’m capable of that," he admitted, his tone a little more serious. You furrowed your brow, looking at his pale face in the weak light, showing signs of the night’s exhaustion. "That’s just how my brain works. It doesn’t give me much time to rest."

You often wondered what the world looked like from his perspective. How, in many ways, his genius was both a revelation and a curse. But you’d never heard him complain about it—until now. In fact, it wasn’t even a complaint, just a statement of fact, somewhat melancholy.

You kissed the top of his head, hoping it would have a soothing effect.

And indeed, it worked. He moved even closer to you, rested his head, and after a moment, almost at the same time, your eyelids fell.

*

The morning passed slowly and longingly, even though you were still so close to each other. However, there was the awareness that with the arrival of the day, you would have to wait many, many hours before you saw each other again. In a similar way, you meant. After all, at work, you constantly spent time together, which only made everything more difficult. It would have been much easier to push him out of your head and focus, if it weren’t for that.

Meanwhile, Spencer, perhaps trying to gently play on your nerves, cleaned his glasses much more often than necessary. But there was also the possibility that he was doing it the same amount as usual, and you were just imagining it.

"Are you doing that again?" Morgan nodded in his direction as a greeting when you were sitting in the guesthouse room that served as your team's meeting place. There was a long table in there, similar to the one in your office, but much narrower. Sitting across from Reid, you could easily touch his hand. If you wanted to. "Is this some new nervous tic of yours? Polishing them?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Spencer furrowed his brow in mock surprise, stopping the corner of his mouth from twitching. You kicked him under the table, and he couldn’t suppress a gasp.

To hide your amusement, you covered your face with your hand, but Morgan immediately picked up on it.

"Is this some new inside joke of yours?"

"He’s literally just polishing his glasses, leave him alone," you said.

Morgan’s eyebrows raised in the same way you had imitated him the night before. Neither of you could hold it in and burst into laughter.

"What’s going on?" JJ asked, walking into the room.

"Something very strange is going on," Derek announced mysteriously, staring at you both intently. His hands were resting on his hips, and his head tilted in thought. "Something very strange..."

Then Hotch arrived, even more serious than usual, which immediately dispelled the good mood. The rest of the team also arrived—Elle and Gideon—and everyone took their seats at the table.

"In the past few hours, there hasn’t been any concerning missing person reports," Hotch informed you. "On one hand, that’s good; on the other, it means the unsub will strike again soon. And we can’t let that happen."

"And you even have a plan," Gideon stated, with some sort of understanding in his eyes.

Hotch looked at you all with hesitation before nodding in confirmation.

"That's right, I have. I've concluded that we have no choice but to set a trap."

At those words, his gaze rested on Spencer, which was enough for you to figure it all out even before the main subject did.

"With all due respect, Hotch, have you lost your mind?!"

And how exactly do you envision this?" Elle asked, not as shaken as you but clearly concerned. "Sure, he fits the profile of his victims, but how is he supposed to set himself up? Walk around town and hope to get kidnapped?"

"At least two of the victims were abducted on the same stretch of road, after getting off the bus at the same isolated bus stop while walking home alone. It’s an exceptionally safe location for him," your boss explained.

"Honestly, I’m not convinced," Derek interjected, staring ahead with a furrowed brow. "I just don’t think he’d use the exact same spot again. Word has probably spread around the area that the FBI is on the case. He might be more cautious and change his methods."

"But he might just as well try again," JJ said quietly. You looked at her with clear surprise, as you had expected that, with her characteristic care for the team, she would be against the idea. "Right now, it’s the only thing we can do to try to prevent another abduction."

You drew a breath, understanding her arguments but remaining entirely opposed. Your gaze finally fell on Spencer, for the first time since the idea had even been brought up. He was sitting very upright, his brow furrowed, and he slowly began nodding.

"JJ’s right, it’s the only thing we can do," he said. He wasn’t looking at Hotch, nor even at the team as a whole—he was looking at you, directly and only at you. A calming, slightly nervous smile crossed his face, making you scoff. "Nothing’s going to happen to me. You’ll all be around, on the bus, near the stop."

With his words, the decision was made, and all you could do was shake your head in disbelief.

"I want to be on the same bus," you declared desperately, crossing your arms over your chest. You simply couldn’t reconcile with the fact that Spencer was willingly putting himself in harm's way—especially when the unsub's desire was to hurt people like him. "I’ll pose as a civilian. A random young woman. I shouldn’t seem like a threat, and someone from our team has to be inside."

"You’re right," Hotch replied, looking at you with sharp attention. "But it will be Elle."

You and your friend exchanged a confused look, startled by the firmness in his voice.

"I don’t think it makes much of a difference," she tried to intervene, which made you feel grateful.

Although, it didn’t change anything…

"I’m not obligated to explain myself to you about this decision, especially in front of the entire team. This is an order," Hotch announced with almost brutal professionalism. "The only thing I can say is that we need someone who won’t break character until the very end. Someone who won’t let emotions cloud their judgment."

"Are you sure you’re up for this?" Gideon asked, directing the question at Spencer. His tone was understanding, prepared to accept any refusal without judgment.

This time, he didn’t look at you. As Spencer nodded in confirmation, he actually avoided your gaze.

"Then we have the whole day to prepare for the sting. Let’s hope this leads to catching the unsub," Hotch concluded the meeting, signaling that you could leave the table.

You were torn between staying and screaming at your boss or leaving the room after Reid. Well, the second option wouldn’t get you fired. And, honestly, it seemed like the better choice. It turned out he wanted to talk to you too, as he was clearly waiting for you in the narrow hallway of the inn, where animal antlers hung on the walls and an informational board about moose was displayed.

"Are you angry because I want to do this?" he asked, the narrow walls around you making you stand quite close. Well, not as close as you could be, but close enough to add gravity to the conversation and allow you to study his face carefully.

Especially his determination. The determination for this job, for solving the case, and for preventing others from suffering the same tragic fate at the hands of this killer. Finally, you understood that your reaction was a bit irrational. Because if the victims were young women with your looks... you’d agree to it without hesitation. Some hypocrisy, huh?

"No. I'm just terrified that you're going to do this," you confessed, your honesty and concern making his face twitch in surprise. You snorted, trying to ease the tension. "I’m angry at Hotch for calling me emotionally unstable in front of all of you."

Spencer smiled gently, though there was stress hiding behind it. He may have been determined to go through with it, but that didn’t change the fact that there was fear accompanying him. He tried not to show it, but anyone in his position would feel it.

"Well, in his defense, he phrased it a bit more subtly."

You let out a soft laugh, stretching your arm out to gently touch his forearm. As your hand slid up, you leaned in a little, the simple gesture helping you feel more grounded and at ease.

His gaze followed your movements with a gentle satisfaction. You didn’t pull him closer, you were simply stroking his arm in that easy, caring way that calmed both of you.

"You’ve never done this before, have you?" you asked quietly. "You’ve never put yourself in this position like this."

He shook his head in denial.

"I’m really... really worried that I’ll do something wrong and we won’t be able to catch him because of me."

"You should worry about yourself, Spencer. Not about that. I’m sure you’ll play your part better than anyone could. "But I really regret that I won’t be able to be right next to you, in case something goes wrong."

His lips parted and closed in a kind of... amusement?

"I was going to say that maybe Hotch could be convinced, but then I realized, no, he won’t be. No matter what you say. And besides, having you there wouldn’t let me focus fully."

"I’m aware of that," you joked, tossing your hair dramatically. "After all, I look stunning."

"I was more referring to the fact that I’d be focused only on making sure nothing happens to you, but yeah. That’s one of the reasons too."

You fell silent, oddly moved by that confession. It was so simple, driven by care, affectionate. And it definitely made your head spin in the context of your relationship. You shook your head, pulling yourself away from those thoughts. As long as you were in Alaska, you could afford anything. After that, who knows.

You swallowed and put on a playful expression, it came with some effort, but you managed.

"Okay, genius-boy. Let me prepare you. You need to know how to behave."

"I thought I was just supposed to be myself," he noted, letting you pull him by the wrist.

"Well, mostly, yes. But it's still better to rehearse, get you into character. Don't you have any random fun facts to share?"

"I always have some fun facts to share. An endless amount."

"We'll see."

For the rest of the day, up until the inevitable moment of setting the trap for the unsub, you listened carefully to everything he had to say. His constant chatter allowed him to occupy his mind, pushing the stress aside to the point that, when it was time for him to head to the designated location, he seemed almost surprised that the hour had come. Only then did certain shadows begin to cross his face.

You paced restlessly around the inn as the whole team prepared. Your task was to take a position with Gideon at a certain distance from the bus stop, to cut off the unsub's escape route if necessary. The bus driver had agreed to cooperate, and JJ was giving him instructions, asking him to act as naturally as possible. There were to be no civilians on board, only Elle and a few inconspicuous local police officers. Hotch and JJ planned to follow the bus from a distance by car. Morgan was to lay low at the bus stop, also posing as a civilian.

You moved closer to Spencer, breathing heavily, his presence alone calming you down.

“You’ll be fine,” you reassured him just before you were about to leave. Morgan gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and everyone was still gathered around you. You gently hugged him, just as any other friend would, just like Elle and JJ had moments before.

He, on the other hand, wasn’t concerned with appearances. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head in a strong, lingering embrace.

“Y/N, you and Gideon need to go now," Hotch interrupted.

As you were walking away, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that he also gave Reid a brief squeeze on the shoulder.

It was a truly tense moment. You found yourself in a position where you had no visibility on what was happening inside the bus, nor could you gauge the gravity of the situation. All you could hear through the earpiece was Elle's whispered signal informing you that the suspect, fitting the profile, had just entered the vehicle.

And even though you didn’t have high hopes for the plan, everything unfolded exactly as it was meant to. Spencer exited the bus, and the unsub followed him. The suspect seemed intent on tracking him down that desolate, shadowy road, planning to attack and abduct him. But at the last moment, Reid turned, and before the man could react, he was surrounded by the police.

On your last night in Alaska, you found yourself on top, with his head resting against the headboard of the bed, his hands placed on your hips, and in a position where you could look at each other and talk.

"You really did great today," you praised, leaning in to gently kiss his collarbone.

He didn't seem flattered by your words, no smile on his lips, just that sad, aching expression that caused you pain. Wanting to shake off the feeling, you quickened your movements, hoping it would work, but then he tightened his embrace, making you slow down once again.

"I want... I want to enjoy you," he said with a slightly embarrassed tone, his fingers tracing restless, tender circles on your bare skin. "Since this is our last time together."

For a moment, he gazed at your face, as if hoping you would say something. But he couldn't find any trace in your expression that would suggest you had changed your mind. The small, naive spark in his eyes faded. Elle's words about breaking the cycle echoed in your mind, but not in your heart. You couldn't turn them into reality; you simply couldn't. The agreement remained the agreement.

Once you returned, everything would go back to how it was before.

another author's note: I plan to create a tag list and I want to know who among you would like to be on it. please, let me know in the comments.

[hoshifighting]

hi can i request svt’s reaction to y/n saying she hasn’t shaved down there but they go down anyways 👹👹

seventeen reaction when you're not shaved

seungcheol: "babe, the last thing on my mind right now is whether you shaved or not." he says it so casually, like you just told him the sky is blue. but inside he’s actually kinda sad you even felt the need to mention it. like, why would he care? he’s just tryna worship you, and here you are worried about some damn stubble. he’s on a mission now. a convincing one.

jeonghan: "sweetheart, do you really think that’s gonna make me stop?" thinks that the fact that you’re even bringing it up is adorable. unnecessary, but adorable. he’s about to make you forget you even had that thought in the first place.

joshua: "do you really think i give a shit?" and he says it so sweetly too, but with this little smirk like he’s personally offended that you even hesitated. inside, he’s just like, why would i, joshua hong, ever care about that? he’s about to prove to you exactly how little he cares.

junhui: "okay, and? still the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen." like, he genuinely does not understand why this is even being brought up. he’s not even thinking about it. all that’s going through his mind is that he was just trying to devour you and now you’re talking nonsense.

hoshi: "babe, i would still be down if you had a whole ass beard down there." he’s so serious. like, actually, completely unbothered. he’s just happy to be here. inside, he’s already moving on. he’s not even letting you finish that thought.

wonwoo: "that’s what you’re worried about? baby, come on." his voice is so soft but he’s looking at you, like really looking, and in his head, he’s just sighing. like, you’re here, with him, like this, and you think that even matters?

woozi: "literally don’t care. like, at all." deadpan. like you just asked if water is wet. he’s so unbothered it almost makes you feel dumb for even bringing it up. in his mind, he’s already moved on. problem solved. next?

minghao: "baby, im not a boy." he means it too. he’s not even tryna reassure you, he’s just stating facts. in his head, he’s already making a mental note to gas you up more often, ‘cause clearly, you need to be reminded.

mingyu: "okay, but do you think i’m about to stop?" he’s actually confused. like, physically unable to process why you even thought that would be an issue.

seokmin: "that’s cute, but i really don’t care." he laughs, not at you, just at the absurdity of the statement. in his head he’s making a mental note to never let you feel self-conscious around him again.

seungkwan: "do you think i’m about to write a yelp review on it? no. come here." genuinely baffled. he’s looking at you like you just said the dumbest thing ever, but in the softest, most loving way possible. inside, he’s doesn't understand why yall are even discussing this.

vernon: "cool. so anyway—" does not let you finish. immediately moves on. he could not care less.

chan: "do you really think i care about that when i’m this close to losing my mind over you? babe im like—super horny, no cap." his voice is almost desperate, because like, why are ypu stopping for this?

[chxrrywines]

₊˚⊹♡ assistance | sam winchester x reader

a/n - not for kinktober just a fic i wanted to get out!! i’m unsure whether i like the dialogue on this im sorry if it sucks i feel i can never write dirty talk right *sobs* but i really hope you enjoy!!! <3

cws - fem!reader, 2k, nsfw 18+, phone sex, mutual masturbation, kind of softdom!sam, long distance, fluff, comfort, kinda unedited

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It was later than he’d liked by the time he finally got back to the motel. With muscles that ached from the day’s strain, brain fogged from how tired he was, Sam honestly just wanted to call his girlfriend and talk to her until he fell asleep.

He’d meant to text her a couple of hours prior to let her know the hunt was dragging on longer than expected, but his phone had fucking died when he and Dean were two hours into their trek into the woods to find the pack of werewolves they were hunting, and he’d been pretty miserable ever since.

Dean had disappeared off to the nearest bar after dropping Sam off at their room so he thankfully had the place to himself to mope around as he plugged his phone into the charger and showered whilst he waited for it to get some power. The shitty water pressure and barely lukewarm water did nothing for his aching back, so he was even more agitated by the time he got himself settled onto the uncomfortable mattress twenty minutes later, hair wet and skin still damp beneath his clothes with his eagerness to call her.

As much as he hated being away from her for so long, and too often, it was the safest thing to do. Sam wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something happened to her because she was too close to his shit. He still had dreams about Jess, about how that was all his fault. He couldn’t let it happen again.

His phone hadn’t even reached twenty percent but he was impatient and shuffled over to the edge of the bed so the phone cord would reach and held the phone to his ear as he called her, propped himself up against the headboard.

The phone didn’t even ring twice before she answered.

“Sam?”

“Hey, baby.” The words came out in an exhale, most of the tension left him just at the sound of her voice, the ache seeping out of his bones like a relief. It was what kept him sane whenever he was away. Her picture in his wallet, her hair tie on his wrist, her voice in his ear.

“Hi, Sammy. Got worried when you didn’t call on time.”

He winced at the thought. She worried for him, of course she did. Sam understood how horrible it must have felt for her, knowing what he was going off to do. He could only imagine the dread that must’ve curled inside of her whenever he was late calling. Too many things had happened in the past, too many things could still go wrong.

“Sorry, my phone died when we were still out, didn’t get back until way later than I thought,” he groaned, sank down the headboard a little to stretch out on the bed. The agitation still hadn’t quite left him, the stiffness in his muscles prominent. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with her in his arms and he couldn’t have it. “Miss you, honey.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she responded, “Missed you more. Wish you were here, it’s cold at night without you in bed too.”

He snorted a quiet laugh. “That’s why you miss me?”

“Mhm,” she giggled, though her voice turned a little coy as she murmured, “among other reasons.”

“Yeah?” An automatic smile was curling at his mouth.

Another little giggle through the receiver. He didn’t even need to see her to know that she had that little bashful smile on her face. He also knew exactly what was on her mind, it was on his too.

It wasn’t the first time they’d have done this. He was on the road so often that their sex life wasn’t as amazing as it could have been, and it wasn’t like he didn’t pleasure himself when he was away on hunts anyways.

There had been many many evenings he’d spent in the shower, hot water rolling down his back as he had one hand pressed to the tiled wall whilst the other pumped his cock until his cum was washed down the drain along with his shampoo bubbles. It wasn’t ideal — bottom lip tucked between his teeth to stifle the heaving breaths and quiet groans, trying to get off as fast as he could before the hot water could run out or Dean could get back to the room. It was even worse when it became a result of having her on the phone. There had been many occasions where her soft voice and giggles in his ear had been enough to get him hard, on nights when he was really missing her and it had just been too long since he’d kissed her.

It turned out she did the same as him. Though when Sam pictured it, it was a lot more graceful than his time in the shower. Laid out all pretty on their bed, legs spread, fingers wet with her own arousal as her head tipped back against the pillows. Sometimes if he got a little selfish he pictured her voice all whimpery saying his name as she came, but he couldn’t get lost in that daydream often, or he’d get hard over that, too.

“Miss you,” she breathed again, and the shift in her tone was palpable. “I… I tried touching myself earlier but I couldn’t cum without you on the phone.”

The groan that left him was automatic and his cock throbbed, hardening beneath the material of his boxers. The idea that she couldn’t even get off without his voice in her ear did wonders for him, it was a wonder his ego wasn’t too big already.

“You need my help, honey?” He crooned into the phone, settled into the tone of voice he knew she liked to hear, the voice he used more often than not when he was whispering in her ear, hips slotted between her thighs, rolling in a rhythm that left her whiney and panting.

Her soft little “mhm” was enough for him to move his other hand down and palm himself, hissing in a breath through his teeth.

“Go ahead and lay down for me, pretty girl. Wanna tell me what you’re wearing?”

There was the rustling of sheets over the phone before her voice spoke up again, “Just one of your shirts.”

Another groan. “You trying to kill me, baby?”

She giggled and his cock twitched beneath his palm. Jesus Christ he needed to get back to her, he needed her in person, to sate the need that wouldn’t be doused thoroughly enough over the phone.

“Go ahead and spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he breathed, palming his cock again as he spoke, eyes squeezing shut as his head knocked back against the headboard. “Did you get yourself all worked up earlier, hm? Are you all soaked already?”

There was another hum, though he could hear the way her breathing had deepened, deep and heavy in his ear. He could picture the tickle of her breath on his face, the shape of her lips, the taste of her mouth after she’d just brushed her teeth. He needed her.

“Why don’t you start touching yourself for me?” He murmured, voice low with his arousal. Her resounding moan was enough for his cock to throb again and his hand finally dipped beneath his waistband, freeing himself with a quiet groan.

“Are you touching yourself too?” She whimpered, and it was a miracle he didn’t just cum there and then.

“Yeah,” his hand lifted and he tipped his head down to spit into his palm, groaning softly the next time he pumped his cock. “Yeah I am, dolly. Your pretty voice got me all worked up— fuck.” He breathed out the word between his teeth. He was already leaking pre-cum, thumbing over the head of his cock in a move that made him shudder, though it felt nice when she did it. Stroked his cock with her pretty hands, her pretty lips that wrapped around his head when she was on her knees for him, licking along the length of his dick in a way that always made him weak in the knees.

She moaned again and his hips jerked, rutting into his hand with a filthy groan. “How’re you feeling, honey?”

She whimpered, and Sam felt another dribble of pre-cum slide down the length of his cock. “Good— mm, good, j’st—” she took in a shaky breath, “feels better when it’s you, baby.”

“Oh yeah?” He grunted, pumping his cock just a little faster. “Why’s that, dolly?”

“Bigger hands,” she breathed. “longer fingers.”

Sam moaned, the idea of his fingers nestled deep in her wet heat enough for his cock to throb in his hand, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. But from the sounds of her pretty little whimpers, neither would she. “Can’t fill that pretty pussy up as nice as I can, hm?” He took in a shuddering breath. “Play with your clit for me, sweetheart.”

He could hear the moment she did, the sharp inhale, the whimpery moan, the rustling of the sheets as she, undoubtedly, spread her legs wider. “Oh god, Sammy—”

“Are you close, sweetheart?”

All he got in response was a high-pitched “uh-huh.”

“That’s it— shit, that’s it, baby,” he panted, pumping his cock faster, moaning softly as his head arched back. “Go on, dolly, make some pretty sounds for me as you cum, won’t you? M’gonna cum just thinking about you making such a mess of yourself, c’mon, baby—” he was practically begging between sharp breaths.

It only took a moment before he heard her sharp inhale and the whine that followed, and all it took was a few more quick ruts into his hand and the sounds of her before he groaned her name, toes curled and eyelids scrunched as he came. He could feel the evidence of his orgasm dribbling down his cock and his fingers as he shucked a few more times, hissing through his teeth as he finally stopped.

“Oh sweetheart,” he breathed, panting, not unlike her heavy breaths into the phone. “You sounded so fucking pretty, honey. That feel good for you?”

She took a shuddery breath and hummed again. “Yeah, thanks baby.”

Sam couldn’t help the breathy chuckle. “Don’t need to thank me,” he murmured. “M’always gonna take care of my girl, even if I’m not there. You made quite a mess of me, too.”

She breathed a laugh, and a moment passed of just their shared breathing as they both calmed down. Sam’s cock had softened completely against his abdomen, and he’d have to change his clothes and have another shower, but fuck was it worth it.

“I’ll be on my way back to you tomorrow,” he promised once his breathing had mostly evened out. “Should be with you before dinner, then you get me all to yourself.”

She yawned into the phone before mumbling, “Good, want you back to me as soon as possible.”

The sound of her so sleepy just left him so soft. “I promise I will be,” he breathed. “Why don’t you get some sleep, okay honey? I’ll call you in the morning when we’re on the road.”

“Okay,” her voice had completely softened, coated in a sickly-sweet fondness that left him putty in her hands. “I love you. Get back to me safe, okay?”

“I always do,” Sam smiled. “I love you too. Night, gorgeous.”

She yawned her own goodbye before the line went dead, and he let the phone drop back down onto the mattress with a heavy breath.

Just one more day, then he could have her in person, help her in all the ways he wanted to on the phone.

[shinig6mis]

you never should've clicked that link.

but curiosity had its claws in you, and that night, while you were alone in your dimly lit room, you let it win. just a quick look, just to see what was really lurking on the dark web. that's what you told yourself.

one wrong click and your screen glitched. blacked out for half a second. then a text box popped up with white letters against a pitch-black background.

???: cute pajamas

your breath caught in your throat. the cursor blinked, waiting. you didn’t type anything or move at all. you simply stared as your heart hammered against your chest. your fingers twitched toward the laptop lid.

another message.

???: go ahead and close it

???: i’ll still be here

your skin prickled. and then, at the top of your screen, you noticed the tiny, glowing green dot. the camera light.

without thinking, you slammed your laptop shut so fast it nearly slid off your desk. scrambled back, stomach twisting. no way. no fucking way.

on the next day, you took your laptop to a repair shop. paid extra to have it cleaned, reset, scrubbed of whatever digital parasite had burrowed into it. but then the guy behind the counter just frowned, clicking through your system. “there’s nothing here,” he said. “no malware, no viruses. your laptop’s clean.”

all that really needed to be repaired was the tiny crack on your screen after you shut it so fast.

tomura was bored.

he had planned to fuck with you, that was all.

another dumbass poking around where they shouldn’t, clicking shit they know they're not supposed to. he almost closed out after the first few days of watching.

that was until you started talking to yourself when you were alone, making little noises when you stretched, humming under your breath while working on assignments. the way you’d pause videos to read comments, or sit cross-legged in bed while scrolling on your phone.

it was stupid. pointless, really.

but for some reason, it was hard to look away.

so he didn’t.

he watched you like a habit he couldn’t quit.

and eventually, you started leaving your laptop open more often. but the paranoia still lingered, coiling in your stomach when you were alone too long. that feeling of being watched never really went away.

a couple nights later, your screen lit up again on its own.

there it was again.

???: how long r u gonna keep ignoring me?

you glared at the webcam, hoping he could feel it through the screen, as your fingers hovered over the keyboard and typed.

y/n: how long are you gonna keep watching me, creep?

tomura laughed at that.

???: so she does talk

what the fuck was going on right now? your hands were sweating. you wiped them on your thighs, forced yourself to keep your eyes narrowed at him.

if he could still message you, still access your screen, then he knew everything. your files, your passwords, your location.

the realization sent a cold shiver down your spine.

y/n: what do you want?

this time, the reply was almost instant.

???: already got what i want

tomura wasn’t sure what exactly had changed. watching had been enough, at first. knowing he could listen in on your rambles, see the way you chewed your lip while concentrating on a homework, the absent-minded way you twirled a strand of hair when you were bored—it was all pretty amusing.

but he wanted more.

you fascinated him. the way you blushed when you saw a cringey scene in a show, the way your brows knitted when you felt troubled. all your unfiltered reactions.

people were so fake, so performative, but you—alone in your space, forgetting he was right there—you just felt so real and right to him.

and while tomura has seen plenty of people, it was rare for him to actually see the real version of someone and continue to grow attracted to them.

he wanted to see you up close. wanted to make you react to him.

it was a crowded café near campus. you had been staring out the window absently, hands wrapped around your drink as your eyes focused on whatever reading you were trying to dissect on your laptop.

you looked so at peace that tomura almost didn't want to ruin the moment for you.

but he couldn't help it as he lifted his phone and typed on his screen.

your device buzzed with one new message.

???: found you

author’s note ♪ 　 ͙ㅤ 　(՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞) i love my boy tomura so bad yall don’t understand :< p.s. honestly can’t remember when i wrote this ?? i just found it in my drafts ermmmm…

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[jyoongim]

THE WAY U WRITE THE OLD RED DEMON MAN IS JUST SO NEKEKDKEOWB

Might I just add onto the seemingly continuous alastor requests. I'd love to see Alastor x Reader where reader is in heat and Al finds it pathetic but takes pity on them and helps anyway bc like poor thing can't even get their own instincts in control they're obviously hopeless

warnings: 18+!!!NSFW

You thought when you died you would be rid of hormones.

Periods were a pain while living, but this is was worst.

When you were alive, your periods plagued you with mood swings, random cravings, and pain.

Now that you were dead, you didn’t experience the dreadful red flood and raging mood swings; no. Now all you felt was unbelievably horny and needy.

And you hated it.

You usually carried yourself with confidence and elegance.

You usually liked to help around the hotel and were generally friendly with everyone.

You grimaced as you woke up to feel just how drenched your panties were. I really need to stock up on new underwear you thought as you tossed the ruined panties into the hamper.

You usually spent your heats alone and could hide in a hole until you felt normal again. You usually could control yourself well enough til you had enough free time to ease the tension between your legs.

Or until you found a poor sinner.

Weeeeellll that was hard when you lived in a hotel with a ton of shit to do. You really didn’t want to hear Angel’s jabs as you dragged some unfortunate soul to endear your sex rage.

You sighed, hopefully you could get through the next few days without embarrassing yourself completely.

So far so good you thought as you went about your day doing whatever activity Charlie had you do with the group.

Every touch and scent didn’t send your cunt into a tingling frenzy; yes you had to change your panties a few times but nothing crazy.

That was until you were around Alastor.

Your body practically buzzed whenever the tall red demon was in your vicinity.

You first chalked it up to that it was because you did found him attractive and simply thought it would go away.

But your cunt begged a differ.

You squirmed a bit on the couch as Alastor took a seat beside you, clenching your thighs to ease the uncomfortable throbbing.

It didn’t help that he smelled amazing.

Alastor smelled like evergreens how y’all ever smelled Christmas pine??? That shit is delicious!!!!

And you didn’t realized you had took a deep inhale of him until he turned to you

”Is everything alright my dear?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

fuck how were you going to tell him you wanted to bury your nose into his neck and just SNIFF? 

“O-oh I’m f-fine…i-its just you smelled nice?” You wanted to facepalm.

He blinked at you before letting out a laugh “OOooh why thank you my dear” that shit eating grin widened, voice dropping a slight octave“I must smell very enticing if you’re sniffing at me” his eyes narrowed slightly.

A shiver ran through your body and you swear you were leaking through onto the couch. You wanted to die of embarrassment.

“I-I just never noticed before that’s all” You said shrugging, trying to ignore the fact that his very voice was affecting you.

Charlie had ended whatever the hell you were doing and you quickly made your way to your room, causing some confusion.

You were usually a social butterfly with the gang. You never not chat away with Angel as he told the wild shit he did on set.

“Has got to be that time of the month” Angel commented as you almost sprinted out the room. Charlie and Vaggie gave confused looks ”what?” He sighed “You know…” nope not a clue.

”She was a human remember? Every so often her pussy basically shreds itself to bits”

Charlie gasped “So she’s hurt? Shouldn’t we do something?” Angel laughed,shaking his head “Nah we can’t help. But she'll be fine. Just give her a few days and she'll be normal again”

Alastor was in the background listening, the smile on his face sharpened, you weren’t hurt or bleeding, but there was definitely something that could be done.

You snarled as your vibrator died and tossed it. You groaned as your clit continued to throb. You had thought four orgasms would have did the trick but nope you still had the irritating itch.

You didn’t own a dildo because it was pointless.

it wasn’t the real thing.

You wanted to cry. This was your first heat while you’ve been at the hotel and you didn’t just want to drag a stranger here.

You had more control than that.

At least that’s what you thought.

You had locked yourself in your room as you tore your room to bits. The walls were shredded, pillows and sheets drenched in slick and your poor toy was in pieces.

Panting, you curled in a corner and tugged at your hair, squeezing your eyes tight as tears began to pool in your eyes.

You hated this.

 You hated how it felt like you didn’t even feel like yourself. 

Hated that you couldn’t even control your own damn bodily function.

Hated how your body desperately wanted to be filled.

You would give anything to make this horrid feat of yours go away.

“I would have never thought to see you in such a state my dear”

You froze at the voice and jerked your head to the source.

Alastor.

He was standing at the entrance of your bedroom, a smirk on his face as he took in the state of your room.

”I must say, it. Is rather entertaining to see your lack of control” he said as he approached your curled form.

He crouched down, feigning a concerned look before a clawed hand seized your hair and wrenched your face til your noses were bumping against each other.

”did you think I couldn’t smell you?” He growled “You smell just like a bitch in heat”

You whimpered as his lips ghosted over yours “I-I’m sorry”

His scent was surrounding you. It was a drug. Assaulting your every nerve with each breath you took.

He smelled so good 

please

”Please” you whispered as your cunt buzzed, tingling from his clos proximity and in hopes he would have mercy on you.

Alastor sucked his teeth at you. What a pitiful thing you were…

With a deep breathe, he stood and walked over to your ruined bed and sat. You watched as he sat his mic down and removed his coat. Yanking at his tie, he unbuttoned his shirt and looked over at you with narrowed eyes “Well? Do you want to continue to ruin your furnishings or do you wish to satisfy that brazen desire of yours?”

He widened his legs and your eyes honed in on how he unbuckled his pants.

Your throat tightened and you found yourself crawling over to him, no regard that you were naked.

Kneeling between his legs, your hands soothed up his thighs as your rubbed your head against his crotch.

Alastor lifted your chin for your eyes to meet his. Your eyes were blown out and you winced as his grip tightened.

”I pity you my dear, reduced to wanton whore, but don’t fret…Ill help you through your heat” a thumb ran over your pouty lip.

Your cunt clenched around nothing at his words.

You damn near drooled as he adjusted himself to pull his cock free from its restraints.

It was big, in both length and girth. It slapped against your face, causing you to hum at the weight of it.

You nuzzled it, nose gliding along his length before softly pressing kissed along it. When you came to his mushroom tip, you didn’t hesitate to suck at it. Alastor sighed as you gave the head of his cock kitten licks.

Head clouded with desire, you slowly bobbed your head along his length, taking him whole as you gagged once you reached the hilt.

You eased him out your throat and with a sickening pop, you admired as his spit-covered cock shined. You opted to jerk him off slowly as you buried your nose in his ball, inhaling his scent.

Alastor’s hand found your hair and guided you away from his cock, bringing you to climb up his body, until your smoldering heat was rubbing against his cock as he pressed kisses to your shoulder and neck. A gasp tore from your throat as he nipped at your jaw.

”On fours my dear”

Clumsily, you scrambled to follow his instruction. You must not have been to his liking because he pressed your head til your cheek was flat to the bed, back in a deep low arch, thighs pressed to your stomach and spreaded wide with your ass and cunt exposed to the air. 

You would have blushed in embarrassment if you weren’t so turned on.

A hand glided down your back, causing you to shiver and then jolt as a harsh slap was planted on your ass, before it soothed over the burning cheek.

Alastor kneaded your ass before sliding his fingers down to your cunt.

Your slit was swollen and your clit, puffy with need. 

You were dripping.

He dipped a finger inside you, testing how wet you were.

Soppy. 

He added a second, your cunt greedily welcomed his fingers with ease, giving into resistance.

He chuckled “What a greedy cunt, sucking in my fingers like a cock”

You whined when he took his fingers out, already missing the feel of something inside you.

Alastor took his cock and rubbed it against your cunt, coating himself in your slick.

”I am going to fuck you to your little sinful heart desires and you are going to be grateful of everything I give you. You are going to take every bit of my cum until it spills from this cunt and then again and again until I have bred you so thoroughly. Do you understand slut?”

You were breathing heavily, trembling in excitement.

With a single, sharp thrust he filled your cunt, earning a soft cry from you.

”Do you understand?”he hissed through clenched teeth.

”Y-Yes A-Alastor”. you whimpered, eyes clenched shut in pleasure.

”Good girl”

He drew back and thrusted into you again

And again

And again

He had set a slow, but rough pace. Thrusting his cock deep into the soft warmth of your cunt with each drag.

Soft moans filled the air as he buried his cock inside you.

It felt so good. 

He reached depths your finger couldn’t quite reach.

And it was amazing.

”A-Ala-stor Aah! Aaah! Hah!” You pushed your hips against his, mewling loudly as he grinned his cock into you.

”Youre pathetic ” He laughed, eyes watching his cock disappeared inside you, giving you a hard thrust at his words.

”Nothing but pathetic slut who can’t control their own body”

His grip on your hips pulled you flushed against him, making you take him til his balls was nestled against your slit.

”You probably would have spreaded your legs for any poor sinner, just wanting to be fucked dumb” Your body rippled as his thrusts got harder.

Your cunt only got wetter.

He noticed as he seemed to sink even deeper into you, as if your cunt loosened to welcome him

”oh? I bet you would have liked that wouldn’t you? So out of sorts with need that you would have just anyone bred this cunt”

He growled at the squelching noises from your cunt, you shook your head in denial.

No. No you wouldn’t haven’t done something like that.

”N-no I-I wouldn’t-” You cried out as his finger ghosted over your swollen clit.

”You would have been happy to bend over and offer your cunt to anyone, as long as you had a cock fill you” Alastor continued before a cruel, deep laugh erupted from him

”But instead you sought me out. I had no intention in satisfying you, but what a gentleman would i had been if I ignored a lady in need?” You felt him lean over, hips never missing a beat as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder.

”Oooh how fortunate you are my dear”

You were suddenly flipped onto your back. Hair sprawled around you like a halo, your chest heaving as he pushed your knees to your chin. 

Your lidded eyes watching as he slide his cock between your pussy lips, bumping your clit. He grabbed your wrists, using them as leverage as he thrusted back into you, the new angle making your throw your head back with a broken cry

”FuuuuuUccckk Ah Ah AH!” His hips dug into the underside of your ass as he pounded your cunt.

Alastor hadn’t lost composure the entire time he fucked you.

He watched as you fell apart, your hips wiggling to accommodate to his harsh administrations.

Your cunt took him so good. A white, creamy ring formed at his base as he scraped against that sponges nerve inside you.

You welcomed him gratefully. Letting him wrench pleasurable sounds from your pretty lips.

Pushing your raised legs apart, he lowered his weight on you as he slammed his lips on yours, swallowing your moans. Your tongues danced as he rocked into your body.

The sounds of him ruining your cunt pushed him to fulfill your primal desire.

You felt that familiar blaze of heat take over your body as Alastor fucked short rapid thrusts into you.

Every brush of his abdomen against your clit had your cunt going haywire.

You were going to cum.

Alastor was going to make you cum.

You moaned at the thought

You were gonna cum on his cock

And he was gonna breed you

Breed your soppy cunt

and you were going to let him

”please….” You whined into his mouth

Fuck the very thought had your body buzzing.

”please what?” he purred

Your head was reeling, foggy with the need to be filled.

A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing

“What are you begging me for slut? Hmm?” His strokes were hitting harder and deeper.

”You want me to breed your cunt? You want to me to fill you up so good that all you’ll ever think is how my cum belongs inside you? What do the little slut want?”

Yes you wanted all of it.

You wanted him to fuck you so good, you wouldn’t even think of wanting another cock from his.

You wanted him to fill your cunt to the brim and then fuck it back inside.

You wanted him to breed you like the little slut you were.

To breed you til he had his fill.

Your instincts had practically took over, fuck sanity.

”Mhmm! I want it. I want you to Ah! I want you to fill me with your cum! Please please breed me Alastor” You whined, feeling your belly clench as your orgasm hung over you, promising sweet relief.

The hand around your throat, tightened causing you to gasp as he spoke into your ear, voice deep and purring

”Youre gonna make yourself cum on my cock slut”

your hand flew to your clit to flick fast circles on the bud.

Alastor’s thrusts quickened, growls pouring from his lips

”Who’s a filthy little slut?”

”M-Me”

”Whos a pathetic slut that’s gonna take my cum?”

”Me!”

”Fucking slut gonna let be breed her dumb”

A sob tore from you as your orgasm washed over you, he fucked you as you milked him, hips angled to thrusts so deep you’re sure your cunt had molded into the shape of his cock

”hah hah aaah fuuucckk fuck fuck Al-Alastor!”

You saw white as your mouth opened in a silent scream only for him to swallow the whine in your throat.

”That’s it you pathetic slut take it. Take my cum. That’s a good girl. Let me breed this sweet cunt cher” your hips raised as he sunk into you and with a deep groan, he cummed into your spasming cunt, making sure to thrust deep enough he hit your cervix as he painted your walls white.

Whether conscious or by instinct, you gave him a ditzy smile, eyes glazed over as you slowly rubbed your clit, whimpering. Holding eye contact with him, a soft pout graced your lips

“Again”

You truly were a pathetic, needy little thing.

But don’t worry pretty Doe, Alastor’s going to make sure you

satisfied and stuffed to your heart’s content

 It was going to be very interesting for the next 36 hours…

@markster666 @alastorsfawn @senseichaos @alastoralltruist @dasimp777 @imgonnadielaughing-blog @thewinchestah @strawberrypimp666 @tpks @stygianoir @polytheatrix @prosciuttosblog @angelltheninth @peachedtv @yourdoorisunlocked @kiralaufeyson84

[sluttapes]

⌞ 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ⌝

christoper owen & matthew bernard sturniolo

𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴ㆍ𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘺!𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵ㆍ𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬ㆍ𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴ㆍ𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰ㆍ 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 '𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵'

you’d forgotten how slippery the woods could get when it rained. maybe it was the fog curling low over the ground, or the way your brain felt fuzzy from the cold, but either way, you didn’t see the muddy step until it was too late. your foot slid right out from under you, your palms slapped wet wood, and before you could catch yourself, you were in a shallow puddle, jeans soaked through, cold seeping all the way into your bones.

when you finally got the cabin door open, you were shivering. the heat hit you like a wall, and the sound of soft rain on the roof filled the space. warm yellow light glowed from the bedroom down the hall, where matt and chris had already retreated for the night. you peeled off your wet clothes with shaking hands and tossed on the first dry hoodie and shorts you could find.

chris was on his phone, screen lighting up his face as he laid under the covers, scrolling. matt was already half-asleep, back turned to the room, sheets pulled low over his hips. you hesitated, staring at the empty bed on the other side of the room—yours—but something about that cold space didn’t feel right. it never did when you were with them.

you walked quietly to chris’s bed and slipped under his blanket without saying much. he glanced at you, barely lifting his head.

“cold as hell,” you mumbled.

“yeah, no shit,” he said, not unkindly. but the way his body stiffened next to yours made you pause.

“can we cuddle?”

he sighed, like the question annoyed him more than it should’ve. “you’re, like, way too warm.”

you didn’t argue. it wasn’t weird—you’d all been like this since you were kids. curled up on couches, sharing blankets on road trips, limbs tangled without a second thought. but tonight, chris wasn’t in the mood. you stayed for a few more minutes, staring at the screen with him as a few tiktoks played, but his energy was off. distant. maybe even irritated.

“can i play with your hair?” you asked, like always. you didn't lnow why, but it helped you relax, helped you drift off to sleep.

he shook his head. “nah. not tonight.”

the words landed heavy, heavier than you expected. you sighed, sifting next to him. you laid there awkwardly, unsure of what to do, when matt’s voice came, half-mumbled, barely coherent.

“you can climb over here,” he said, still facing the wall. “’s warm. play with my hair or whatever.”

it made you smile. you crossed the room and slid into his bed, body curling against his back, the cotton of your shirt sticking slightly to your damp skin. his back was warm—hot, actually—and your brow furrowed as you pressed your cheek to his shoulder.

“you’re warm as fuck,” you whispered. “you got a fever or some shit?”

“headache,” he muttered, voice low, sleep-drunk.

you hummed in sympathy, your fingers already threading gently through his hair. you always loved doing this—touching his hair, watching him melt like butter. the groan he let out was deep, not anything 'sexual', just pure relief, relaxing into your touch. he shifted closer to you, pressing back against you.

“mmmh,” he hummed. “i'ma pay for your nails next time if that means you'll give me head scratches more often.”

you giggled, light and quiet. he moaned again, soft and content, and that’s when chris spoke.

“dude, you creaming your pants or some shit? what’s all that moaning for?”

matt didn’t even turn. “kid, what are you talkin’ about? you pissed she’s in bed with me now or something? can you stop bitchin’ and go to sleep because i’m tryna sleep, actually.”

chris scoffed, rolling over and muttering something under his breath, but didn’t argue again. matt was awake now. you could tell by the way he shifted slightly, more alert under your fingertips.

“we’re driving back tomorrow, right?” you murmured, still petting his hair.

“yeah. early, if the rain’s not bad,” he replied, voice low.

you stayed like that for a while, the conversation drifting into little things—how much you loved these trips, how much they felt like home, how it reminded you of being kids again. but then the air changed. not drastically, not all at once. it was subtle. in the pause between words, in the way matt’s breathing slowed but didn’t return to sleep.

maybe it was the few drinks you’d had earlier. maybe it was the storm, or the heat of him against you, or the way chris had looked when you’d crawled into matt’s bed instead. but for some reason, the way chris seemed almost jealous of the fact you were invited over into matt's bed, and the fact you actually went to cuddle up with him instead of staying with chris, even after he rejected something he'd usually happily accept, made matt proud. he found it funny, but he also liked the idea of chris being all moody about the fact that you didn't stay with him tonight.

it was a weird feeling, but matt found some sort of push to claim something he knew chris would be jealous of, something he would definitely not appreciate. there was no reason to be jealous for chris. you three were best friends, no one was prioritized over the other one, but the slightest interaction that matt got more of than chris, made chris roll his eyes, scoff, and show how he was clearly feeling some sort of jealousy.

“do you wanna have sex?” matt asked suddenly, not turning to look at you.

you blinked. your heart stopped for half a second, huffing out a small laugh, not sure if he was joking or not. “what, with you?”

he shrugged, turning to face you. “it'll help you warm up better.”

you didn’t say anything at first. not because you were offended, but because you didn’t expect him to say it. and yet, you weren’t surprised either. you guy are close, all three of you. you talked about things to matt and chris that you talked to no one else about, and it was the same for them. whether it was about some awkward sex story when you guys were drunk, or just in general about anything to do with it. you guys had no filter, because you didn't need one. nothing was weird, nothing was tmi, simply because you guys didn't think about each other in that on sort of way, or at least you thought so...

“we don’t have to if you don’t wan—”

you cut him off with a kiss. his lips were soft, slightly chapped, warm against your cold skin. the kiss deepened quickly, almost desperately. his hand found your waist under the covers, fingers pressing into the curve of your hip, and you slid your hand along his jaw, holding him there like you were afraid he’d vanish. there was heat between you now—not just body heat, but tension, years of closeness building into something neither of you had ever even thought about. he pulled back just slightly, eyes dark in the low light.

“i shouldn’t want this because of him, and like, wanting to make him jelous,” he said, voice barely audible. “but i do. and not just because of that. you’re… i don’t know. you’ve always been mine a little bit.”

your chest tightened, heart pounding. “so take it,” you whispered.

he kissed you again, slower this time. claiming. like he wanted to etch the moment into both of you. your fingers slipped under his shirt, dragging over the warm skin of his stomach, and he hissed quietly at the contact. everything felt electric—his hands on your waist, your breath mixing with his, the rain tapping against the roof as if it were trying to drown out the quiet sounds you made for only him.

you weren’t just cuddling anymore, and you both knew it.

the room felt hotter than before, even with the rain tapping cool against the windows. matt’s lips didn’t stay on yours long. he was exploring now—pressing kisses along your jaw, down your neck, slow and deliberate. like he had all night, like he wanted to memorize the taste of your skin. you were already arching into him, your body pulsing with need you didn’t know had been buried this deep.

his hands were under your hoodie, thumbs brushing against bare skin, pushing fabric higher until your stomach was exposed to the chill of the air. but his mouth followed, warm and wet, trailing heat with every kiss.

“matt,” you whispered, breathless, fingers curling against his scalp.

he hummed softly against your ribs, and you felt the smile on his lips before he said anything.

“pretty sure chris is wide awake and pretending not to hear any of that.”

the comment made you laugh under your breath, a quiet, breathy thing that slipped from your chest without control. you looked toward the other side of the room where the blanket over chris was pulled up to his shoulder, completely still.

your fingers threaded through matt’s hair, tugging gently. “he’ll survive.”

matt looked up at you with a lazy grin, one corner of his mouth tugged up like this was all some game—one he was enjoying a little too much. his hands tugged at your waistband, slow and teasing, like he was waiting for you to stop him. you didn’t. he peeled your pants down with your underwear, the cold air shocking for a second, but he was there—warm, steady, grounding you with his tongue on your clit, his hands, the quiet, slow drag of his fingertips down your thighs.

the air between you crackled with tension, each breath shuddering as matt’s tongue flicked against your clit in a slow, teasing circle. you bit your lip to stifle a whimper, fingers tightening in his hair. he hummed softly against you, the vibration rippling through your body like a current.

“taste so fucking sweet,” he murmured, voice rough, his breath hot against your thigh.

he dragged his tongue up your slit, deliberate and languid, as if he had all night to savor you. his hands gripped your hips, anchoring you in place when you squirmed.

“shhh, i got you, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “let me take care of you.”

the shushing was gentle, almost tender, but it coiled something tight in your stomach. you arched into him, and he chuckled—low, smug—before sealing his mouth over you again. his tongue worked you with agonizing patience, lapping at your sensitivity until your legs trembled.

“matt—fuck—” you breathed, hips jerking involuntarily.

he pulled back just enough to glance up, eyes glinting in the dim light.

“that’s it, baby. let me hear you.” his thumb replaced his tongue, circling your clit in firm, slow strokes as he kissed his way up your stomach.

“you taste so good, sweetheart” he murmured against your ribs, teeth grazing skin. “always wondered… god.”

your breath hitched as he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, his palm grinding against you in rhythm. his lips found your ear, rough with stubble, his voice a gravelly whisper.

“you gonna cum for me? right here, with him probably listening?” his fingers sped up, relentless, and you choked back a moan, nails digging into his shoulders. “c’mon, sweetheart. let go. wanna feel that pretty pussy squeeze my fingers.”

pleasure crashed over you in waves, your back bowing off the bed as you muffled a cry into his shoulder. he kissed you through it, swallowing your whimpers, fingers slowing to a gentle pulse until you sagged against the sheets.

“thereee ya go,” he cooed, brushing damp hair from your face. his thumb traced your swollen lower lip, eyes dark with satisfaction.

you weren��t sure when exactly you stopped thinking and just started feeling. somewhere between the slow trail of matt’s mouth and the way his hands anchored your hips like he needed you still, something shifted in you—something full and warm and dizzying. it wasn’t just heat. it wasn’t just want.

it was him.

matt was hovering above you with that flushed, lazy look in his eyes, your heart was thudding loud in your ears. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes locked on yours like he couldn’t look away.

“you okay?” he asked, voice low and hoarse.

you nodded, cheeks warm, pulse still skittering. “yeah. are you?”

he gave a breath of a laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “just making sure you’re not about to slap me.”

“for what?” you smiled, fingers brushing his jaw.

“i dunno. taking things somewhere we haven’t gone before.” his voice dropped, and he tilted his head, eyes flickering toward the other bed. “especially with chris literally right there.”

you followed his gaze. chris still hadn’t moved. still didn’t say a word.

you whispered, “i don’t think he’s asleep.”

“oh, he’s definitely not asleep,” matt said, lips brushing the shell of your ear with a quiet chuckle.

you both fell into silence for a second. the weight of everything you’d just crossed settled in—not in a bad way, just real. and complicated. but matt didn’t move away. he just pulled you into his chest, one arm snug around your waist, legs tangled with yours under the blanket. your head found the spot right below his collarbone, heartbeat steady and calm beneath your ear.

“i liked that,” he murmured after a moment. “not just the sex stuff. like… you being here. close.”

you swallowed, your fingers tracing soft circles on his chest. “me too.”

you weren’t even sure if you were tired anymore, but the warmth of him, the steady sound of rain, and the way he kept you tucked into his side like you belonged there made you start to drift. but just before you could fall asleep, you heard a quiet, sarcastic mutter from across the room.

“next time, just take the fucking spare room.”

your eyes flew open. matt stifled a laugh against your hair.

“you were definitely awake,” matt said, grinning into your hair.

“hard not to be with all the groaning,” chris grumbled.

matt raised a brow. “you jealous?”

“whatever. you two can hump each other to death for all i care.”

there was a long pause. then you and matt both broke into quiet laughter. but underneath it, you felt the shift in the air. chris’s silence said enough. you'd definitely hear about this tomorrow. no matter how good it felt, no matter how comfortable and understood it felt with the fact that it was matt having you like this, you felt guilty now. ashamed almost. and chris's jealousy only made it worse.

oh well, driving home tomorrow morning when the three of you had sobered up would be fun.

tape extension

dividers by @strangergraphics

there could be a part two idk i feel like this has a lot of playroom. lmk if yall would fw that

🎥 @tits4matt @loser41ifee @sweetshuga @nickysturnss @courta13 @sophsturns @starsforu @applecidersturniolo

[moonstruckme]

Okay, very self indulgent but poly!Steddie and the reader gets a masters degree but her family doesn’t come to graduation? Nobody came to mine and it felt pretty sad to see my friends with families but hey! the reader has steddie

Hi angel, I'm sorry you felt alone. Congratulations on getting your masters!!

poly!Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 624 words

Eddie’s still yawning while Steve half-drags him through a row of filled seats. He lets his boyfriend apologize for the both of them as they shuffle past and knock knees with strangers. 

Steve is as huffy as if Eddie’s the one who made them late—as if Eddie spent ten minutes fussing over his hair while his boyfriend idled in the driveway—but damned if they don’t find two seats smack in the middle of the row anyway. 

Eddie skims the rows of graduates. “Where’s she sitting?” 

“I don’t know.” Steve fusses with the flowers—the ones he won’t let Eddie hold, despite the fact that Eddie was the one who went to the grocery store at eight this morning to get them. “There’s not that many grad students, we should be able to see her. Shit, I should have gotten a program.” 

“I got you,” Eddie soothes, passing Steve the leaflet he snatched from a table on their way in. Steve takes it without comment. Eddie’s about to snark at him, but when Eddie yawns again Steve leans to the side, offering Eddie his shoulder as a pillow. 

Eddie smiles and kisses his boyfriend’s cheek. “You’re welcome, asshole,” he says warmly. 

“So many speeches,” Steve mutters. He’s just as tired as Eddie—seriously, whose idea was it to have your ceremony at ten in the morning?—but twice as grumpy. He perks up, though, when he looks up from the program. “There she is.” 

“Hm?” Eddie picks his head up from Steve’s shoulder, looking out over the rows of graduate students. 

He doesn’t know how he didn’t spot you before. This time, his eyes find you like a compass finds north. You’re turned around in your seat, looking up into the crowd of friends and families with a searching gaze. Your lips have a sad little pinch at one corner. With everyone around you radiating pride and excitement, you look small. 

“Hey!” Eddie shouts. Steve flushes, shushing him. “Hey, that’s my girl!”

“Shut up,” Steve hisses, covering Eddie’s mouth with a hand like Eddie won’t just lick it (he does). “Don’t yell, idiot.” 

“Look, she’s looking!” 

Steve joins Eddie, almost resignedly, in putting his hands up for you to see as your eyes skim the area of seats the shout had come from until they finally land on your boyfriends. 

Eddie waves enthusiastically. “Hey,” he says again, quieter now. 

You light up. Your smile bursts across your face, bright and beaming and the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen. He and Steve both mirror it like the fools they are. You wave back at them, and when you eventually turn around in your seat, you look just as happy to be there as everyone else. 

“She looks really good,” Steve says in a reverent tone. 

Eddie scoffs. “What else is new?” 

They’re both a little bit starstruck by you, Eddie thinks. Steve maybe didn’t have as much trouble as Eddie did finishing high school, but neither of them have ever worked as hard as you have in getting your degree. More often than not, it was Eddie who heated up pizza rolls, allegedly for himself but really to push on you so you’d take a study break, and Steve who drove onto campus to bring you coffee between classes. You really earned this. It’s nice to see you basking in it a little. 

There are speeches. Some girl, some dean, blah blah blah. Eddie dozes on Steve’s shoulder until your row stands up to go onstage, and Steve strangles the flowers in his hand as they approach your letter of the alphabet. 

When your name crackles through the microphone, Eddie whistles loudly enough to make the lady in front of them cover her ears. Steve joins him.

[everythingmp3]

secretly dating Nat during her antler queen era - headcanons 🦌💌

I’ve never written for her before but I love her and she’s clearly gonna go through hell this season, so I felt like imagining her having someone in her corner, being in love etc. I wrote down whatever came to mind and it’s kind of a narrative, so most of the points are rather elaborate! it’s mostly romantic/sfw - hope u enjoy <3

you and Nat go way back - you went to the same schools since you were kids but you only grew closer once you entered high school and both made it onto the soccer team

you were never best friends but there was always an implicit trust between you, you never got into fights or had weird tension, something about your temperaments just naturally fit together - you often joked around with her during practice and defintitely got told off more than once by Ben to keep your mouths shut (she’ the type to get the giggles and you for sure got her in trouble countless times by whispering out of pockets shit to her while he was talking)

over time, you ended up growing closer and closer, especially once you started going to house parties and somehow always ended up outside to share a cig and take a break from the chaos inside - you always had a sparkling chemistry, which was only intensified by having a few drinks in your system and opening up to each other in that tipsy state in ways you usually didn’t (she confided in you about her parents, you told her about your own issues, and you came to turn to each other when you needed some understanding)

your chemistry also showed on the soccer field, so opposing teams quickly grew to resent you and Nat because you somehow always managed to find her on the field to assist a goal, no matter how hard they tried to foul you or block her (one time she scored the winning goal during an important game thanks to you and in the heat of the moment kissed your cheek when you hugged to celebrate, which almost made you fuck up during the rest of the game because you were so flustered by it)

the summer before senior year was when you started spending time together outside of school/practice and group settings because neither of you had anything else to do, so you ended up biking around together, swimming in the lake nearby, driving to get gas station snacks at night before laying on her bed for hours while sharing a joint and listening to music with the window open, having sleepovers

something changed that summer - you didn’t even realize it was happening at first but you started feeling giddy before hangouts with her, you missed her when you went a few days without seeing each other and felt a tingling sensation whenever she touched your arm or knee during conversation - you also grew increasingly jealous whenever she mentioned a guy, since you hated the idea of her meeting up with one instead of calling you to hang out, so eventually you admitted it to yourself: you had a crush on her. a hopeless one.

you kept it to yourself, you enjoyed the time you had with Nat and ached for her in silence, stole glances when she laid next to you, tanning in her black bikini, soaked up her scent whenever she hugged you and made peace with the fact that that would have to be enough. still, you dreamed of her nearly every night that summer

the first time you got high together you coughed pretty obnoxiously on purpose so she’d offer to shotgun it for you, which you almost came to regret when you felt her lips mere millimeters from yours and couldn’t just close the distance - the memory haunting you for the weeks to come..

what you didn’t know was that she had similar feelings, that she ditched the idiot she’d been seeing for a while a bunch of times to come see if you were home and wanted to go for a ride because you were much better company and nicer to look at

it was hard not to get your hopes up sometimes because Nat was always very physically affectionate with you, she made you mixtapes, lent you her clothes, stole some of yours, hugged you in your sleep when you slept in the same bed, so you told you yourself "shes probably like this with everyone", even though your intuition told you she definitely didnt do all that with just anyone

once senior year started, you stopped hanging out that regularly and things kinda went back to how they were before, but you still talked a lot in school and spent a late night smoking and/or listening to new music together here and there with her, since it had become a ritual that you didn’t wanna entirely give up on, and it was the same for her, she loved those quiet hours of laughing and lounging around, especially when she was the one who snuck out to come knock on your window, since she always felt very at peace in your home, in your bed, away from her parents, distracted from that mess by your effect on her, which was always a calming one

one memory that stayed with her for a long time afterwards was when she showed up at your place at 2am one night, trashed, drunk and high and wrecked from a horrible fight she’d gotten into, shaking and scared, when you didn’t ask her any questions and just let her crawl into bed with you and sleep, holding her tight as she drifted off (she would always remember how bewildered she was by the fact that you didn’t seem to mind at all that she reeked of booze and smoke and sweat, that she’d felt disgusting and pathetic and that you had just pulled your blanket up to let her sleep, without making her shower or change - to you it was only natural, but to her it was a big deal, since she wasnt used to such gentle treatment)

during and after the crash you weren’t much closer to her than the other girls, since everyone was just trying their best to survive and you needed to be a strong group, but there were little moments here and there where you sought each other out, while sleeping on the cabin floor next to each other, or bitching about something while doing the laundry together

it pained you to see her and Travis get together the way they did, you didn’t let it show and you had worse things to deal with (starvation, lack of hygiene, general feelings of terror) but whenever you saw them sneak off, it ruined your mood, Van once looking at you and saying "damn, and I thought Jackie was in a foul mood today… what happened?" you waving her off and pretending it was just a migraine..

the winter was so horrible that you forgot about everything concerning desire and romance pretty fast, Shaunas birth and Javis death overshadowing any possible petty feelings you coulve been stewing on, Nat clearly also drifting apart from Travis more and more, both of you, like everyone else, falling into a deep hopelessness

then, when she was crowned, things shifted a little: when it was your turn to kiss her hand and vow your loyalty to her a sudden spark of affection and need rushed through your tired body, the way she looked down at you, the tears in her eyes, her look of disbelief, the subtle hint of tenderness, it made your crush come back in full force, even more intensely than before because you were so delirious from everything you’d gone through, hungry for any kind of passion and love you might get before possible dying out there

later on during the spring, it was like all of your senses were suddenly awake again and desire came crashing over you in violent waves while watching Nat walk around in shorts and cut-off shirts, seeing her try and take on her role as the new queen - it made you fall into an obsession that was even worse than during that summer back home, you couldnt stop staring at her to a point where you were scared the others were noticing

Nat was experiencing similar things, you weren’t aware, yet again, but you weren’t alone in your feelings, she realized it while watching you with the others that she got jealous whenever one of them hugged you or laughed a little too loudly at your joke, when someone cozied up to you and asked you to braid their hair, she didn’t wanna accept it at first but then one night when you were all eating dinner and she watched you, the way you looked in the candlelight, it hit her: I want her. I want her for myself. she should be mine. she dismissed the thought as silly and told herself to get a grip, to focus on being queen and surviving but it didn’t make her desire for you any less palpable whenever you sat near her or gave her a friendly embrace

one night, things changed. you had a spot near your hut, a particular tree stomp that you often used as a bench whenever you couldn’t sleep and wanted some fresh air, but that night Nat beat you to it, she was already sitting there when your turned up, so you joked "stole my spot, huh?", before joining her and sensing that she was going through it

"you fucking hate being queen, don’t you?" you bluntly asked her, which made Nat laugh a tired but genuine laugh because it felt good to have it out in the open, to be seen like that, she didn’t lie to you and used the moment to confide in you when you told her "come on, talk to me"

the moment that shifted the vibe was when you could tell frol what she saying that she was scared of Shauna, what might happen with her, and you told her "I swear if she lays a hand on you..." - she turned to you, curious then, and asked "yeah, what then?", so you said "I´ll flip the fuck out." in a tone that was serious and intense enough for her to be stunned by your protectiveness - for a moment she was quiet, but hearing that from you, the girl whod once been the for her at her lowest, in that moment where she felt broken down for different reasons, made her realize all of a sudden how much she’ missed you, talking to you, having alone time with you, how much she’d loved you all along, deep down, so she didn’t think at all before grabbing you to kiss you

that first kiss was so hungry and eager that she almost bit your lip, you were frozen up for a second because you couldn’t believe what was happening, so she pulled back and frantically apologized like "oh fuck sorry, I´m so -" but you quickly came back to your senses and interrupted her by pulling her in for another kiss, which ended in you two making our for a while, passionately, grabbing each other wherever you could reach, your thighs, your sides, you pressing yourself closer to her when you sensed some hesitation and wanted to signal to her that she should touch you wherever she wanted, which she did, finally allowing herself a moment of bliss amidst all the horror

after that kiss, you talked for a second, finally confessing how into each other you were, had been all along, Nat nudging you and saying "you should’ve fucking told me back then, during one of those many hours where I already had you in my bed. could’ve made good use of that time when we still had soft fresh sheets, you know"

you agreed to venture deeper into the forest the next night, for more privacy, both of you a bit nervous about sleeping with a girl for the first time, but relieved that neither of you had done it before, Nat getting a little jealous when you told her that you’d once gotten pretty close to having sex with a different girl back home, eager to drown out those memories with the ones you’d make with her (which worked, for sure..)

going forward you couldn’t help but sacrifice sleep to have at least a few nights each week where you spent an hour or two somewhere between the trees kissing and touching and getting lost in each other, Nat up against the tree as you knelt down to eat her out, you on the forest floor as she smiled at you from above before kissing your body all over and making you come undone with her fingers, both of you laughing when you attempted to find positions that would work in that enviornment, glowing and happy in a way that you never were during the day

it took you no time to develop a deep bond, the core of your trust had been there all along, so the romance was a natural progresssion, everything about it felt right and good to you, which was such a healing contrast to everything going on around you, such an unexpected gift after all the trauma youd endured out there, both of you showering the other in affection because you were just so grateful to feel held and loved and cared for in a way you hadnt during all the months before

during the trial it took every ounce of your will power not to just let everyone see that you’re together by defending her and stepping in to protect her but you managed to keep it somewhat subtle, only here and there saying things like "thats irrelevant" when someone went on a tangent or "damn, back off a little" when someone got too close to her face, things that a concerned friend would say, not just a lover - you also definitely made sure to communicate with your gaze, keeping eye-contact with her for a few seconds in a way that said "you got this, I am right here, we will get through this, I am so sorry this is falling on you"

in general you make sure she can sense your support and care whenver you’re near, even when you can say anything out loud in front of the others, and it does manage to calm her whenever she’s caught up in some argument or has to reel Shauna back in, the fact that youre watching and would step in if she was truly out of options

you made a habit of collecting flowers during the day whenever you have some time to just enjoy the sun or wander around, and you developed a ritual: waiting for a moment when nobody is paying attention to sneak into her hut and leave them on her pillow, and sometimes on particularly rough days thats the only thing that manages to get a smile out of Nat, when she steps into her little private space, drained and frustrated, and catches a glimpse of some lavender or yellow or pink flowers signaling to her that youd been in there, thinking of her, trying to cheer her up <3 (perhaps she braids a few of the flowers into her little braids, the others think she picked them herself, but you know better)

speaking of hair: I think she doesnt trust anyone but you to help her with it, she doesn’t like to admit it but even after everything you’ve been through out there, she’s still a little vain about her hair and hates that she can’t touch up her roots, so you help her out by brushing it out with the comb one of the girls rescued during the crash, you wash it for her in the river nearby, you give her one of your softer shirts to tie around her hair at night to keep it from getting frizzy. she also loveees to have her hair played with by you

she tires her best not to show you favoritism but it is hard, especially when someone else being bitchy to you for no reason, it is torture for her not to just use her power to punish them in some way, by denying them some privileges or finding some hard job for them to do the next day (it happened more than once that she dug her nails into her palm until she almost started bleeding from it because she was trying so hard not to just lunge at someone or tell them "shut the fuck up" when they were mean to you)

you tease her by calling her "my queen" when it’s just you two, she acts like she hates it and tells you to shut up, but her smile always betrays her, she does love it, when you jokingly bow to her, or even better get on your knees and hug her waist, something about the sound of your submission to her does get to her, even when its just in a playful manner (she cant help but tell you that you look good on your knees and ruffle your hair while grinning, and you have no issue using it to your advantage, the fact that she likes seeing you all devoted and eager..)

initially you werent one of the girls who were taught to hunt but once you and Nat got together she said that you should learn as well "never hurts to have as many people as possible learn a skill" was her reasoning (even though she would only be teaching you) - it was clearly the ideal cover to get some alone time far into the woods during the day and you always make the most of it, finding a nice spot to sit or lay and make out, undress and relieve each other of the stress you’re holding onto, getting lost in pleasure for one beautiful hour where nobody can interrupt, where shes not the leader, where its just you and her and the trees above you, the sounds of birds, the midday sun, her soft skin against yours, her lips, her smile, that smile that only you ever get to see, the smile you remember from before the crash and that you had feared dead during the winter, that you had finally brought out of her again once you started dating

even though you thought she didnt actually wanna teach you to hunt better, Nat does insist on teaching you a thing or two about how to handle the rifle because she wants you to be able to use it to defend yourself if it ever came to that in a moment of chaos, which you were amused by at first but she scolded you and told you to take it seriously, which was charming to you, her little moment of bossing you around (when she said it you corrected her and said "or to protect you" which charmed her, even though she always insists on never wanting you to risk your safety for her)

one might expect that youd be weird about Travis but he is so wrecked by grief and out of it in general that you never feel jealous when she talks to him, but you do make it clear to her that you hated watching her be with him when you still lived in the cabin and she looves seeing the flicker of envy in your eyes when you mention it, she loves knowing that you were watching all along, that you wanted to be in his place

whenever youre in charge of serving food you give her a little more than the others - she noticed one time and told you to knock it off, scared that someone might notice and target you for it, but you insisted that it was only fair considering that she was doing a hard job, that she needed it, and since you also noticed that she was not gaining weight back as fast as the others due to stress, which moved her, the fact that you had paid close enough attention to notice that (she pretends to be mad but she does feel a little rush whenever you serve her food and she knows you were liberal with her portion, makes her feel loved, tended to)

whenever Melissa steps in to act as Shaunas guard-dog, you do the exact same for Nat but more subtle, with the other two its clear to most of the others that something wild is going on there, but with you two nobody really suspects anything, so you are less aggressive than Melissa but whenever they gang up on her, you make sure to get a word in and refuse to leave Nats side until the conflict is over

since she doesnt have access to music, you got over your fear of sounding horrible when she kept begging you to sing for her - you caved and started doing it, her laying in your lap during your little moments of respite while you hum some of her favorite songs to her (those that you also know), and she adores it, soaking up the sounds as you sing to her forgetting the hell of your situation for a moment, almost as if she’s back home in her room listening to her favorite record, safe, at peace, relaxed

its torture for her when she sees you sunbathing with the others, half undressed, only in your bra, knowing that she cant go over and touch you or even just give you a kiss, but it became a game between you two, for you to lay there and give her a nice view whenever the sun was bright, while she watched from afar while pretending to do other things

you love her freckles and shower them in kisses <3 on her face, on her shoulder, her arms, her thighs, she used to feel a bit self-conscious about them but you made her appreciate that part of herself more with your consistent admiration

in general Nat is very protective of you. she has moments where the idea of something happening to you sends her into a spiral of dread and panic, especially when youre sick or seem weaker than usual, when she imagines you becoming the target of a sacrifice, so sometimes she wakes up from a nightmare about it, she has to walk by your hut for a second to check that youre sleeping peacefully

due to her antler queen duties she doesnt hunt much anymore but every now and then she wants to be on her own and clear her mind, and she realizes that she became more ambitious with her hunting after getting together with you, she will hold out for a little longer than she did during the hunts before because she wants you to eat well, specifically the food she is responsible for, she has more of a provider spirit with you than with the group in general

she collects little trinkets for you when shes out there on her own, she loves to bring you back some pretty feathers or rocks she found, she always keeps her eyes peeled for something that you might like to have as decoration because out in the wilderness thats the only way for her to give you gifts (it kills her that she cant just go out and buy you something nice, even just a book or a candle or a shirt, so she settles for whatever she can find, and after a while you have a little collection of souvenirs from her)

you both 100% get jealous as fuck of Tai and Van sometimes when you see them be openly affectionate, when they hold hands or Van lays on Tais lap for everyone around to see, when they share a brief kiss without worrying who might see, when they got to bed together, you and Nat have had more than one moment where you saw it and then locked eyes in a way that said "they dont know how good they have it"

I think she’s even more romantic than she lets on, she might do little things like using a knife to carve your initial or your full name somewhere only she can see (like the inside of her shoe or something, she wont even tell you about it, its just for herself, a secret sign of her devotion)

she doesnt tell you about this but she sometimes gets extremely paranoid about Shauna sensing a vibe between you and exploiting that knowledge to hurt her by targeting her obvious soft spot: you. she has nightmares about being humiliated in front of everyone, falling from grace and tearing you down with her in the process because she knows you would get blamed as well, for keeping that kind of secret, for trying to get special treatment from the leader, she knows Shauna or others who want her off the throne would have no trouble twisting the rhetoric around your being lovers to really do her in

so, she makes a point of not always sitting next to you during meals and finds little reasons to scold you in front of the others like "did you do xyz? no? then get to that please" - she’s a decent enough actress for the others not to clock how much she hates being stern with you, even just for show

you spend a lot of your one-on-one time dreaming together <3 neither of you are naive enough to count on a rescue, but you do remind each other to hold out at least a little bit of hope and especially after the horrible winter you had, it is healing in a way to be in each others arms under the night-sky and just let your mind wander off to better places, to stop being all pragmatic and realistic for a moment and just enjoy the nice scenarios you come up with together

your plan for a potential post-rescue life is simple: get the fuck out of your hometown and move somewhere nice and peaceful, far away, to get jobs and enjoy all the little mundane romantic things that you cant out in the wilderness, no crazy ambitions, just you and her and a bed to share, a quiet, soft life with the occasional road trip and adventure here and there

you also fantasize about more playful things for sure, sometimes when youre undressed or in your underwear together you tell the other person what kind of lingerie you’d like to see them in and you get really specific about it too, down to the exact colors and fabrics, you tell each other what outfits you’d like to wear during date nights, what perfumes notes would drive you crazy if the other wore it, its a little game you play, conjuring up very vivid images like that when youre alone and want to drift off into fantasies for a while

whenever you get self-conscious about the state of your appearance after that many months out in the wilderness (aware that she knows how you looked before) Nat makes sure to remind you that she finds you no less attractive then than she did back home, she might tease you a bit by pulling you closer and feeling you up while saying "and besides, this look kinda works for you, I always thought you looked pretty fucking hot after games when your kit was all dirty and torn up"

shes also definitely the type to jokingly cat-call you or whistle at you when its just the two of you - like when you take your shirt off to go swim in the river for a second with her and she eyes you up and down while letting out an appreciative "damn", you do the same to her and she gets endearingly flustered, which never used to happen with guys, not the way it does with you, something about your attention and praise gets her way hotter, probably because shes never performing for you and actually feels like you want her for who she is

you both definitely had a few moments of almost fucking up and calling each other nicknames in front of the others, you stopping yourself as you felt the word “baby” coming out of your mouth when you wanted to call her over, Nat saying “hey -” and pausing awkwardly for a few seconds after because she was about to call you “angel”

she’s the little spoon when you cuddle, for sureee, she has to put up a tough front in front of the others and youre the only one who gets to see her softer side, so she loves being held by you, the tighter your grip the better <3

you think it’s kinda hot when she’s in her antler queen get-up and she definitely made you try on the crown at least once, wistfully sighing “fuck. what I wouldn’t give for us to just switch roles..” clearly into the idea of following your lead instead of the other way around

you’re her advisor and she runs pretty much all of her important decisions by you, seeking reassurance that she’s doing the right thing, regularly panicking about something until you assure her she’s doing fine, so she jokes about it sometimes by saying things like "if they knew youre running things from the shadows"

you both of course have your fair share of horrible issues to deal with and her responsibilities as queen weigh heavily on her, so there are some truly horrible days where both of you are just trying to survive, literally, but feeling each other near and knowing that you will get through it all together, that you will be alone again eventually, makes everything more bearable than before you were together <3

[iqxatlantic]

heyyyy love your fics <333

can you do sugar daddy Kaiser who's always been rude and rough with reader but one day when he realises he's falling in love with them he's really gentle, asking how they feel and praising them? if possible can you do fluff along with nsfw???

ahh hii anon!! thank uu i appreciate ur words <33 anywayss i love the plot ohh gosh ygs r so creative omg

"And all I wanna do is stay with HER"

ft. michael kaiser . sugar daddy! kaiser . ooc! kaiser lol... . ness is in the story omg! . is ness ooc! too... . yes ness is ooc asw . character development.? . eventual smut . sex gulp... . piv ! . afab! reader . mistreated! reader ... . fluff asw . unreliable narrator

wc: 1.0k

"she's annoying." kaiser grumbled, taking a sip of wine. ness looked at him, "[name] cares about you that's why." the magician tried to lighten the mood. clearly, it didn't work.

"she just wants fucking money." he retorted. ness frowned, "can't you look at it in a positive way.? at least she's trying. take a look at all the others you've had."

that sentence had kaiser reflecting for a bit. "huh. i suppose you have a point for once, ness." the prodigy felt himself get a little flushed. "you're treating her so rough, how often does she even ask for money.?" ness continued. "don't be so harsh man! she's trying..."

the emperor tsked. "if she's so 'perfect' you take her then." he grumbled. jeez this guy is really helpless man... ness looked at kaiser disgusted for the first time.

"keep acting like that and she's bound to become who you think she really is." ness thought as he picked himself up and left kaiser to his thoughts.

later within the night, kaiser found himself scrolling through your photos after sending you some money (oh need that.) it hit him you were gorgeous. pretty face with a kind heart.. he was going to go insane.

the more he scrolled the more he admired your beauty. you radiated an aura that he just couldn't place his finger on. perfection was a word too vague to describe it.

shaking his head, he set his phone down. hands on his head, he was wondering. what the literal hell was he doing.? all he's ever done was treat you like shit because he had such horrendous experiences with others.

i mean, you were like the others. you were just there for the money... and attention i guess. but there was something more to it. he was just to blind to see it. (tf r ur glasses for mihya bro.)

it was late — hella late. 2:32 A.M.? there's no way you'd come over right? so what the heck were you doing at his door in a matter of moments?

kaiser opened his door, surprised. "you — you actually came?" he asked, somewhat in disbelief. "i'm right here aren't i, dumbass.. plus you called." you shrugged.

the satin on the bed somewhat wrinkled as the both of you sat down. "um, so why'd you want me to come ove-" you were quickly interrupted by an apology. "[name], liebling. i'm sorry. i'm sorry for my behaviour, how i treated you. scheiße, i'm so fuckin' sorry."

he held your visibly smaller and softer hands. his hands feeling quite the opposite. you were kinda a dumbass, "wha — michael huh...?" you shook your head giggling, "what are you apologizing for?"

his gorgeous blue eyes stared into yours. "don't act coy with me, [name]. you don't need to forgive me. i'll do whatever for your forgiveness. please. do you want more money? gifts.? flowers..? wha.. god. what do you want?!" kaiser asked desperately.

you looked at him with a deadpan expression. god, has this man ever been treated alright.? "mihya, i don't really want anything. yea i mean i love money i mean — who doesn't love money. but i'm not here solely because of money." you sighed.

"yes, you have money is definitely a positive trait but, you have more to it. money isn't the only thing that makes you lovable." you continued to ramble. his hands released yours. you were caught in his embrace.

"mihya.?" you whispered. kaiser knew how scary it was to love someone. the amount of devotion you must give. the time and effort. one wrong move? it could all crumble.

his embrace got tighter, you were tensing a little bit up. was he gonna beat you like what the heck is goin' on?! he knew you were always running away from love, 'cause your daddy never gave you enough :((

hey, same for him as well, no? "meine liebe." kaiser breathed, "let's try again together. i'm done with the 'you deserve better' bullshit. i have the choice to be better and i'm taking it."

he loosened his embrace on you, hands on your shoulders. you met his gaze. all it could scream was blue of desperation. not going to even lie, most dedication you've seen in your whole life.

you were still skeptical — hell, i can't blame you! you've been mistreated all the time by partners, getting taken advantage of... what change is this rich and attractive man going to do? he has the money, the women ugh... thinking about it made your head hurt.

"what do you say, liebling. let me show you.?" he leaned in, mumbling into your ear. hah! as if you'd believe what he said and give him a chance.

kaiser would be lying if he said he didn't regret making up with you earlier. he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss you. hell! every bit of fiber within him missed you! his lips on yours, oh gosh. he's going crazy. :c

a little while after what was supposed to be a sweet make out, he found himself aligning his tip to your slit. you had glossy eyes as you stared back up at him. he had you pinned onto the bed...

"are you sure?" he asked stroking your stomach, his hands then tracing your curves. "fuu-uck. you're perfect." he mumbled. you nodded in response.

as he buried his length into your warmth he swore he got sent to heaven. "sh-shit.. scheißescheißescheiße...! please you're made for me..." he continued, his lips once more pressed onto yours.

nah, at this point his cock was stretching your opening... it hurt. kaiser broke off the kiss as he groaned, "you take me so damn well.. i'm sorry for being so horrid to you."

you were practically crying, was it cause the sex was good? cause of kaiser? you didn't know! "m-hya.." you sobbed out so sweetly. it was kaiser's last straw.

your walls were sucking his member in man..! how could he not..? your noises could kill him oh gosh! one last thrust and his length was kissing your womb :c "i'm sorry meine liebe, i-" the emperor didn't even get to finish his sentence as he finished in you <3

he pulled out just to push his fingers back in. admiring your form and expression. maaaan, kaiser couldn't ask for a better girl >< dawn came, so did kaiser, 'cept he n you came multiple times :3 kaiser could make it better. all he needed was just one more day with ya.

— ©iqxatlantic / isaisliterallyhim, 2025

tags !! : @twijaxx ♡, @kyvkc

a/n: hey guys.. hey anon.. guess who's finally back heh... my writers block actually fried me so bad its diabolical man.. yes i lost motivation half way along w the plot tbf i had this in my drafts for 2 weeks or smth... i'm so sorry if this wasn't what y'all wanted ill cook for the future ones ;-; not proofread btw good GAWDDDD if kaiser was my sugar daddy man.. money and hes hot YES PLSS (no im nawt shallow but tuition fees are booty bro yall cant blame me.) yes this is all yap ALL MY NOTES ARE YAP OK </3 but um.. yay ilygs a lot mwa mwa <3

[writingoddess1125]

We Missed You

Soooo Decided to branch to a scarier character of the Call of Duty world. Cause I was bored!

Nikto and FemReader + OOC Daughter

Part 2 >>>

Warnings: Uncomfortable/Break in- Nothing really else

● NOTE: If you've never seen Nikto from COD before he does have acute dissociative disorder, so at times he will refer to himself as 'Us/We' a bit randomly.

"Shhh Shh"

You softly coo, gently laying your daughter down in her crib. The two month old finally going back to sleep after she fussed for a bit after you fed her.

Her little mitten covered hands rubbing against her face as she yawned. Settling into the soft mattress of her crib, squirming for only a moment before she settled back down. Carefully you give her the pacifier which she took with ease and fell asleep.

Even with all these late nights and admittedly tough time, you couldn't help but admire your daughter. She was truly beautiful in every way, you assume some of her features came from her father- You knew the blue eyes were from him for sure. The rest you had to peice together.

It had been.. Well not your best moment in life the way Ava was conceived, a simple hotel room meet up from some random guy you kinda sorta knew.

From what you could even remember it was Nikto, however you doubted it was his real name if you'd honest. You knew for sure he was Military somewhat, though you leaned closer to he probably did shady shit for the military, You knew for sure he was Russian and from how he used 'We' and 'Us' when talking about himself occasionally- You knew he was most likely.. unstable.

However in reality it wasn't your problem to deal with.

Being a simple friends with benefits, if you could even call it that.. You two would only shoot a short text to each other when he randomly strolled into town, Often fuck in a near by hotel or at your place then leave. It was physical, damn near transactional.

It simply worked well since you liked the spooky mask wearing type. You blamed dark romance books- And you were sure he was just content with a drifting girl willing to fuck.

When Ava was created, you think the condom might have broke. You panicked, Deciding that it was best to cut your loses you ditched your number and his- Essentially tucking tail and running.

As you said- Not your best moment..

However it lead to the best thing in your life.

Your little Ava..

Smiling to yourself you make sure the blanket tucking her in so she couldn't roll was secure before slowly stepping out of your bedroom to not wake her.

You would have jumped in the bed immediately afterwards but truly you needed some form of snack and some much needed water. You didn't even remember if or what you ate for dinner but you knew you needed something now.

Walking through the dark livingroom you felt exhaustion practically weighing you down. Yawning a bit as you muscle memory your way to the kitchen as you took a sec to look at the stove clock- It was close to midnight, Which gave you at least 2 to 3 hours of sleep before Ava woke back up.

Grabbing a pudding cup and a glass of water you make your way back out- it was these brief moments you were thankful your apartment was small. Made the distance for what you needed incredibly short.

As you went to make your way back you heard what could only be described as a scoff- Turning fast you look at the direction of the noise and see a dark silhouette seated on the couch. Your eyes wide as fear washed over your system.

Your mind racing at the intruder- Robber? Serial Killer? What if a ra-

"привет (Hello)- (Y/N)"

Oh..

You suddently wished it was a robber..

Reconizing that voice immediately as you stand there, The figure reaching over to the livingroom lamp and flicking it on. Sitting there in what you assumed was the closest to Civilian clothes that Nikto ever wore since it was always the same outfit he would meet you in. Black jeans, a dark gray hoodie and the balaclava entirely covering his face save for his eyes which damn near stared into your soul.

"We have missed you"

He almost growled out, staring at your deer in headlights look- You could swear his eyes almost seemed amused at this. Rolling up to his feet he walked to the small mantel and reached for the framed photo of Ava when she was first born.

Wrapped in a pink blanket with her little hat and even having her bottom lip poked out like she was pouting- It always made your heart melt when you looked at it. It seemed to also catch his eye..

Nikto holds up the picture frame to you for a second, he looks at it calmly as he steps towards you- His feet almost sounding like cement blacks with how heavy they are.

"What's the baby name?"

He commands. Leaving no room for conversation by his tone alone.

"...Ava-"

You whisper out. He hums, you see him slightly turning his head side to side like he was juggling with liking the name or not.

"Alisa would be better.. She looks like one"

He mumbled, But shrugged. Seemingly made peace with it as he opens the back of the frame of slide the photo out- Folding it once before sliding it into his pockets for a keepsake it seemed. You deciding not the protest since you had copies even if the scowl on your face said otherwise.

"You didn't tell- Why"

"..I dont know. Just didnt want to call"

You manage out- You couldn't help but be panicked really. His tone was hallow and tinted with irritation- Besides it was odd.. You two hadn't really had much conversation during your previous meet ups, sadly this being the most you two had spoken to each other in a single setting.

"If you know how to call to fuck- you know to call for this"

Nikto said with a huff. You couldn't really argue that, but turn away from his gaze as if confident and trying to take some sort of control of your home which he damn near dominated.

"Get out- Besides you dont even know if she is yours so you have no ri-"

"I wouldn't be here if she wasnt.. besides we know you're not a whore otherwise we wouldn't have touched you. Desperate is different then whore"

Ouch- You wince at his comment as well as feel a stomach dropping fear hit you. He knew for sure, which ment he found ways to confirm that left you in the dark. Looking up at him you can tell he knows what your thoughts are on his words, as if you're as readable as a picture book.

"She is mine. So no need to lie"

Unsure how to respond you look down at your feet- Unsure of how to navigate or proceed.

You feel his eyes linger on you- Even in the comfortable clothes you knew he could tell you were still recovering.. plush from having Ava.

Specifically looking over each change in your body as if scoping out the damage to his property which made your face burn.. However couldn't really tell if it was from embarrassment or not.

He huffed before walking past you towards the bedroom were he knew she was- Your Instincts stepping in as in a flash you stood infront of him blocking his path to her. His eyes narrowed down at you, Before a amused chuckle leaves him as he lowers his head slightly to meet your eye level.

"Move- Wanna see her."

He said slowly but sharp enough that you could take the hint. You stood your ground adrenaline already high as you looked ready to try and fight him- seemingly finding your reaction admirable in some way at being willing to defend your daughter even in a obvious losing fight if you tried- he sighed and roll his eyes.

"She is my Дочка (Little Daughter) I will not wake or harm her."

He said rather annoyed, Staring down at you as you hesitated for a split second before lowering your guard and slowly leading him to your room. Opening the door slowly as you peak on to see Ava still asleep, as Nikto stepped in behind you- His footsteps now silent unlike before as he walked to the crib and looked down.

You stood there, Still close as it felt almost uncomfortable by how silent he was. Just staring at her.. You couldn't even tell if he was blinking or not. He didn't touch her either, just keeping his hands firmly to his side and watching the rose and fall of his daughter peacefully asleep.

He only moved with Ava squirmed a little bit from her tucked in state moving her little arms for a second before settling back down as she tried to spit out her pacifier- You stepping over to return it to her, knowing she would wake up far to soon without it. The man taking a single step back to allow you to do this.

Nikto watched you now, He gave a sigh. Seemingly satisfied for whatever he was looking for, Glancing around the room he saw your phone and picked it up quickly.

You were fast to try and take it from him however he kept it out of reach. Unlocking it, Which scared you at how easily he did it- before seemingly adding his number.

"We will be back, Set up a better arrangement later"

He mumbled, Before handing your phone back to you. Which you took and stared at him, well that intense gaze that was damn near unreadable. Snapping you from this he gestured to the bed, a silent command to lay down.

Your movements a bit slow but you did it, Sliding under the covers of your rickety bed as you stared at Nikto still standing there between were you laid down and the Crib were Ava slept.

His eyes still staring down at you as you laid there- now absolutely terrified.

"When we call.. Pick up"

Nikto huffed out, turning as he walked out of the bedroom. Pausing briefly at the doorway as he glanced at Ava once again fast asleep.

"I hate tracking off the clock. So dont try anything-"

He mumbled, before walking out of your bedroom and closing the door behind you. Leaving you there in the dark damn near shaking in your own bed as you listen to the soft noises of your daughter sleeping next to you.

"Fuck..."

[capuccinodoll]

The boyfriend act, part 8: "The one with Dante and Beatrice" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: Things are a little different in Frankie’s mind. Apparently, you’re in there more often than you think. WC: 12k

A/N: I hope you like this one <3 I want you to know that from Frankie's perspective, things have been getting complicated for quite some time. Don’t forget to share your thoughts in the comments, love reading them!!!If you want to be in the tag list, let me know. Follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications! love you <3

He wanted to give you space, time. He told himself that over and over again, like a mantra. And if there was one thing he'd been unwaveringly certain about, it was that all of this—this charade, this carefully constructed performance—would end the second you asked him to stop. It would keep going for as long as you wanted, for as long as you needed. Until you got tired of it. Until you got tired of him.

Frankie wasn’t sure what he expected when he got in his car that afternoon and drove to your place. He had no plan, no rehearsed words, no real sense of what he was walking into. All he knew was that the past few weeks had been unbearable, spent in a strange limbo of guilt and something else—something more insidious, more consuming, something he refused to name. And it was starting to drive him out of his mind.

That morning, he’d woken up groggy, his head pounding dully from the night before. He’d had a few drinks, nothing excessive, but enough to leave him sluggish. The guys had been at Will’s place, and they’d stayed late, shooting the shit, letting time pass the way they always did—until Santi asked how things were going. Casual, but not really. And Frankie didn’t lie. Why would he? Why should he? So he told him everything, laid it all out like an offering, and when it was over, he felt an immense weight lift from his chest.

He told Santi everything. Let it spill out like a confession, every detail that had been pressing on him, rattling around in his chest like loose change. And when he was finished, he felt lighter, relieved in a way that made him a little sick. Like he had unloaded something heavy onto someone else and could finally breathe again.

Santi listened, nodding, his expression unreadable. Then he said, flatly, “I get it. But she's my sister, and I love you both so just... Stop.”

Frankie nodded. He hesitated, then asked about you—had you said anything? Had you mentioned him? If you had, what had you told Santi?

But Santi was brief, uninterested in being the middleman. He shrugged, took a sip of his beer, and said, “I dunno know. Go ask her.” A casual pat on the back, like that was the end of the conversation. Like the solution was that simple.

Frankie thought about it all night.

Would you even answer the door? Or would you tell him to fuck off before he could get a word out?

The questions followed him into sleep, looping over and over in his mind. He passed out on top of his sheets, still in his jeans, the heat thick and suffocating, pressing down on his skin like a punishment. The next day, he woke up feeling like hell, his head pounding. Took a painkiller dry, then stood under the shower until the cold turned his skin raw.

And then he went to you.

And you opened the door. You let him in.

And for a brief moment, he thought that was it. That you’d sit down together, have a rational conversation, lay everything out cleanly, like two people sorting through a mess they’d both agreed to finally put to rest.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Instead, you told him everything. You let it spill out, sharp and unfiltered, all the ways he had made you feel, how hard it had been, how unfair. But most of all, you told him that you had heard him. That years ago, you had overheard him talking to Will.

That was the part that stunned him, the part that felt like ice water down his back.

Because all these years, he had been confused about everything—about you, about why things between you had always felt sharp and unsolvable. He had never quite understood the root of it, never really asked himself why. And now, hearing it from you, it was so clear. It had been his fault. All along, it had been him.

He wanted to explain. He wanted to tell you why, to make you understand. But he wasn’t sure he could yet. He wasn’t sure he wanted to open that door—to expose himself to a different kind of vulnerability, the kind he had been avoiding for years.

And from your perspective, it was all just confirmation. He was exactly who you had always thought he was. A smug, careless asshole who had pushed you too far, again and again, until you finally snapped.

That’s why he wasn’t surprised when you told him you were tired. Tired of this thing between you, whatever it was. Tired of the constant tension, the sharp edges, the way it never seemed to settle into anything that didn’t leave one of you bleeding.

“I want this to end,” you said, watching him carefully, like you were waiting for some kind of reaction. He felt a flicker of something beneath his ribs—sharp, immediate, gone too fast to name.

“What?”

“This,” you repeated, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “The fights. The confusion. I’ve had enough. I don’t want it anymore.”

For a moment, he just looked at you. Silent. The light filtering in through the window softened the lines of your face, turned your skin softer, almost glowing. He had the sudden, ridiculous urge to reach out and trace his fingertips over your cheekbone.

He didn’t.

“Right,” he said instead. “I don’t want it either. And I get it. If you want me to stay away, I will. I’ll tell Santi. I’ll keep my distance if that’s—”

“No.”

You cut him off before he could finish, stepping just the slightest bit closer, and it sent a prickle of confusion up his spine.

“I don’t want that either,” you said.

Try again. Be normal. Be cordial. It made sense, didn’t it? Two people with history deciding to rewrite it, to turn it into something easier, something less jagged. Like normal adults who could be in the same room without pressing on old wounds.

And yet—he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. Couldn’t understand why you wanted to try again. Why, after everything, you were even slightly interested in salvaging this.

But he wouldn’t ask. He wouldn’t say it out loud. Because some small, irrational part of him was afraid that if he did, you’d stop and really think about it. You’d realize that whatever you were doing was pointless, that he wasn’t worth the effort.

And then you’d look at him and say, Actually, Francisco, fuck you. I don’t want to see you ever again.

If you told him that—if you looked him in the eye and said you’d changed your mind, that this was pointless, that you didn’t want him in your life at all—he would understand. Of course he would. But for some reason, the thought of it settled uncomfortably in his chest, heavier than he expected.

So instead, he would help you with your list.

That, at least, made sense. He knew about those things, the ones you had written down. They were his kind of thing—outdoor activities, experiences that required skill, control, an understanding of risk. He had been trained for almost all of it. If you wanted to go climbing, he could take you. He’d make sure you placed your feet right, that your harness was secure, that you knew how to read the rock beneath your hands. If you wanted to go camping, he would set up your tent or help you do it yourself, show you how to choose the safest place to sleep, rattle off a list of survival tips without even thinking. And if you wanted to go skinny dipping—well. He knew where to take you for that too. Somewhere like Hippie Hollow Park if you were feeling bold. Somewhere more secluded if you weren’t.

And yet, somehow, the first thing you wanted to do was skydiving. That one actually surprised him.

Still, sure. He would do it with you. No hesitation. He had a guy in Lexington, an old friend who was an instructor. It took him all of ten minutes to send a message that same night. By the time he put his phone down, it was settled. All that was left was for you to pick the day and time.

But he didn’t text you. Not right away. He figured he’d bring it up sometime during the week. When? He didn’t know. And he didn’t have to think too much about it because by the time monday rolled around, Helena showed up at his door unexpectedly—just as he was getting home from the airport, exhausted from a twelve-hour day, six of which had been spent in the air.

He wasn’t complaining. He knew plenty of retired pilots who had taken up instructing in other places, and most of them were barely scraping by—too many hours, not enough pay, burning themselves out for companies that didn’t give a shit. Frankie, at least, had gotten lucky. The school that hired him paid well, better than most. Flight hours, ground hours—it was all compensated fairly, which wasn’t something a lot of guys could say. 

Frankie felt he was luckier than he had any right to be, really. Because when he was discharged a couple of years ago, there had been nothing reassuring about his future. Nothing. He'd left his position before even turning thirty-five, his mental health hanging by a thread, his sense of purpose unraveling faster than he could stitch it back together. Everything felt like a sacrifice, and worse than that—he felt like a failure. All the time.

So, yeah. He was lucky.

Lucky to land a decent job—fifty five bucks an hour, flying from twenty to thirty-five hours a week, some days busy, others quieter. He preferred the time in the air. The ground felt too loud, too heavy. But up there, everything stilled. Up there, he could breathe. His body remembered what it was built for.

Lately, though, he was tired.

He’d spent the last few weeks pushing himself past ten-hour days, taking on extra students, filling his schedule until there was barely enough time to eat, let alone think. Because every time he came home, the silence felt suffocating. The walls pressing in, the weight of something unspoken settling on his chest.

And maybe—maybe—the fight with you had a little something to do with that.

But he wanted to give you time, didn’t he? That was the whole point. That was why, when he saw Helena standing outside his house that afternoon, arms crossed, wearing the easy kind of smile that meant she wasn’t actually mad at him—yet—he felt that strange pull in his stomach. Not quite guilt, not quite dread. Something heavier, more tangled.

Frankie smelled like the wind. His hair was tucked under a cap, still messy at the edges, and he was wearing dark sunglasses even though the sun had already started sinking behind the houses. His back ached in a way that made him feel older than he was, but Helena barely gave him a second to register any of it before she was stepping forward, wrapping her arms around him in a brief but warm hug.

“I’m just coming to check in,” she said lightly, stepping past him into the house. She scanned the living room, eyes sharp, like she was taking an inventory of every single thing that had changed since the last time she’d been here. The place was tidy. Suspiciously tidy. “You’ve barely answered your phone.”

Frankie sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” he said, already anticipating the direction this conversation was about to take. “I’ve just been busy. And when I get home, I... sleep.”

Helena hummed, like she didn’t totally believe him but was willing to let it slide for now.

“Just take care of yourself,” she said, and then, as if she’d only been waiting for a beat of silence to slip the question in naturally, “Have you seen her? How’s she doing?”

He smiled despite himself, because of course she would ask. He looked at his mother with something like amusement, something like fondness.

“She’s fine. And yes, I know what you’re going to ask.”

Helena raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Do you?”

“Yeah.”

That seemed to satisfy her, at least a little. She nodded, glancing around the room again before saying, like it had only just occurred to her, “Wednesday, seven o’clock.”

Frankie frowned. “You already picked a day?”

“Well, yes. But if that doesn’t work, Thursday. Or—” She waved a hand, brushing off her own urgency. “Just let me know when she can.”

“This week, you mean?”

“Yes, this week,” she said, like it was obvious. “I’m visiting aunt Eli this weekend.”

He shook his head, smiling. “You’re a busy woman, huh?”

“Yes,” she said, leveling him with a look. “And I answer my phone too.”

She poked him gently in the stomach, and he laughed, nudging her hand away.

Later that night, Frankie pulled out his phone and typed out a message. He was already bracing himself for you to say no, to suggest some vague future alternative that would never quite materialize.

Instead, your reply came quickly.

[🍓]:  I like wednesday :) tell your mom we’ll be there

Frankie read the message again, then set his phone down on the nightstand. His hair was still damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends, and he was wearing what he usually wore to bed—that is, just his underwear. The air in his room was cool against his skin, but he didn’t bother pulling the covers over himself. Instead, he lay there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, then reached for his phone again.

He stared at the ceiling for maybe five seconds before picking his phone up again.

[F]  Okay, I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.

Your reply came almost instantly.

[🍓]: Okay. And what should I wear?

Frankie hesitated for a second, then typed:

[F]: Hopefully clothes

A beat. Then:

[🍓]: 🙄

[🍓]: I meant… what kind of clothes

[F]: Idk, something nice

[F]: Dress like you always do

[🍓]: Are you saying I dress cute?

He thought about playing dumb. But teasing you was starting to feel as easy as breathing.

[F]: Actually, yeah

The three little dots appeared immediately.

Then they disappeared.

Frankie grinned, waiting. A few seconds later, they reappeared—only to vanish again.

Okay. This was fun.

Finally, after a long pause, the dots came back, and this time, they stayed.

[🍓]: I’ll wear something nice then

And of course, you did.

When Frankie pulled up outside the bookstore on wednesday, you stepped out wearing a fitted white tee and a black mini skirt that just barely skimmed mid-thigh. There was something effortless about it, something that made the whole thing look even better—like you hadn’t tried too hard, but still, somehow, had nailed it. Your purse hung off one shoulder, and as you reached him, you did a slow turn, walking a few steps back and forth in front of him, hands wiggling at your sides.

“So?” you prompted, tilting your head. “What do you think?”

Frankie was leaning against the hood of his car, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes flicked over you, taking in every detail, and then, before he could stop it, a slow smile spread across his face.

He nodded, the dimple in his cheek making an appearance. “Yeah. Works for me.”

You stopped right in front of him, close enough that he could catch the faint scent of your perfume. Your arms crossed over your chest, and your eyes, darker in the dimming light, pinned him in place.

“That’s it?” you asked. “That’s all you have to say to me? I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, you know.”

Frankie exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly as if giving your words some serious consideration. Then he nodded again.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “Even though there’s literally no one watching us right now, huh?”

“That’s not true,” you countered immediately, jerking your chin to the left. “See?”

Frankie followed your gaze. Down the block, an old woman was making her way in the opposite direction, moving at a glacial pace.

He snorted. “You think she’s our audience?”

“She could be.”

“She’s not even looking.”

“And you’re willing to take that risk?”

Frankie arched an eyebrow, half amused, half intrigued by your persistence. Now that you’d decided to stop arguing with him at every possible opportunity, was this what was going to replace it? This playful, harmless kind of provocation? The teasing that didn't sting, the banter that made your eyes light up instead of narrow?

If so, he didn’t mind. Not at all.

Because as much as you liked pushing him, he liked pushing back. Seeing how far he could take it before you finally tripped over your own words. And if he had to admit something—it was that you were good at this. Always had a comeback, always knew exactly where to poke to throw him off balance. But he had his own strengths. And he could win, too.

The way you were looking at him now—he recognized it instantly. Slow, measured, a devilish little glint in your eyes. You were trying to fluster him, the same way you had that night at the hotel bar on Helena’s birthday, when you leaned in just a little too close, held eye contact just a little too long, waiting to see if he’d be the first to break.

“So?” you prompted, that knowing smile still curving your lips. You were in a good mood, clearly.

But Frankie knew how to play this game too.

Without a second thought, he reached for you, both hands slipping around your waist as he pulled you in—closer, closer, until your body was nearly flush against his. Your hands collided with his chest, and he felt your palms settle there, warm through the fabric of his T-shirt. Your smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. You held it, but he could see the effort.

Yeah. He had you now.

He leaned in, just enough to catch the faint, sugary scent of your lip gloss—cherry—and the way the light from the streetlamp above made your lips glisten. He watched, satisfied, as your smile twitched, threatened to waver.

“Sweetheart, you look breathtakingly beautiful,” he murmured, letting his voice drop lower. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I’m so lucky to be yours.”

Your cheeks darkened instantly.

And that—that—was his victory.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he straightened up, peeling himself off the hood of the car and pulling you with him, keeping a firm hand on your waist. He reached for the door handle, swinging it open smoothly.

“Now... baby?” he said, eyes flicking down to yours, “get in the damn car. We're late.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, face still suspiciously warm, and lifted a hand to give him a light tap on the shoulder.

“Thank you. Whatever.” You waved a dismissive hand. “You look good too.”

Frankie barely managed to hold back his laugh as he shut the door behind you.

On the way to Helena’s house, you were quieter than before. Not in an uncomfortable way, not the kind of silence that stretches awkwardly between two people who don’t know what to say. This was something else—an easy, unspoken quiet. Still, Frankie kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye, subtle but frequent, like he was checking for something. You didn’t notice.

In his mind, a dozen thoughts churned. Had he overdone it? The whole performance, the teasing, the things he’d said—was it too much? He wasn’t sure. Maybe you were annoyed. Or maybe you weren’t thinking about it at all.

He drove through the streets downtown, passing familiar landmarks, getting closer to his mother’s neighborhood. The sun was beginning to dip lower, casting long shadows over the pavement. The air in the car was warm, tinged with the scent of something faintly citrusy—your perfume, maybe.

“Everything okay?” he asked, curiosity outweighing restraint.

You turned your head to look at him, smiling softly, genuinely.

“Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged, glancing at you before returning his eyes to the road.

“You’re quiet, that’s all.”

“Ah, I’m just a little tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“No?” He flicked his eyes toward you again. “Why not?”

You hesitated. He felt it more than saw it. The way the air shifted slightly, how you didn’t answer right away. He tightened his jaw without meaning to. He could feel you looking at him now, studying his face like there was something there worth inspecting.

“What?” he asked, turning his head just enough to smirk at you.

“I dunno,” you said finally. “I had a weird dream, and then I couldn’t get back to sleep. And then Mr. Darcy broke a glass in the kitchen, so I got up and just started my day.”

Frankie exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

“Did he hurt himself?”

“Nope.”

“So,” he said, dragging out the word, “what’d you dream about? A nightmare?”

“Nevermind,” you said, shifting to look out the window. “I can never make sense of my dreams, anyway.”

“Tell me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No. It’s embarrassing.”

He frowned, exaggerated, amused.

“Oh, come on. How bad could it be? Did you pee yourself?”

You gasped, reaching out to swat his arm. He grinned but kept his eyes on the road.

“You totally did,” he said, nodding to himself. “I can hear it in your silence. You peed your pants.”

“I did not pee my pants!” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. “And I’m not telling you what it was about, anyway. You’ll just have to wonder forever.”

He let out a long, dramatic sigh, shaking his head.

“No, don’t say that. Now I won’t be able to sleep. I’ll lie awake at night, tormented. Wondering—what could my fake girlfriend have possibly dreamed about?”

“And how’s your mom?” you asked, shifting the conversation onto safer ground.

Frankie’s response was brief, almost dismissive.

“She’s fine,” he said. “Waiting for you.” He didn’t elaborate, didn’t offer any additional details. Just left it at that.

Five minutes later, Helena greeted you at the door, pulling you into a warm hug, her arms wrapped tightly around you before she pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Oh, look at you,” she said, leaning back just enough to take you in, her hands still resting lightly on your arms. “You look absolutely stunning, darlin'. So beautiful.”

Your face grew warm almost instantly.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice quiet, slightly embarrassed.

Frankie watched from the side, noting the way your shoulders tensed, the way your gaze dipped slightly. The flush on your cheeks made the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

“You look beautiful too,” you told her, voice sincere. “I love your dress.”

Helena cocked her head to the side, clearly pleased.

“Oh, really? Thank you, sweetheart. That’s so kind.” She stepped back, ushering you inside. “Come in, come in.”

Frankie, lingering behind, cleared his throat. “No hug for me?”

Helena rolled her eyes but turned to him anyway, pulling him into a firm, affectionate embrace before kissing his cheek.

“You look handsome too,” she said, pulling back slightly to study him. Her eyes narrowed. “But you look different. Did you do something to yourself? Get a haircut?”

“Maybe,” he admitted.

She nodded slowly, then reached up, brushing her fingers against the sharp line of his jaw.

“I know what it is,” she mused, her voice teasing. “You always get cuter when you’re in love.” She winked at him.

Behind them, you laughed softly, watching the interaction unfold with something close to fond amusement. Frankie turned his head just slightly, just enough to catch the expression on your face, before exhaling and stepping toward you. His hand found the small of your back as he guided you further inside.

Helena led the way into the living room.

“So, where’s Mai?” Frankie asked as they walked.

“She’s on her way,” Helena said. “She went to the movies with Pam.”

Frankie motioned toward the couch, silently telling you to sit. You did, and a moment later, he dropped down beside you, his body landing a little too close, his thigh just barely brushing against yours.

“Ah,” he said, for no apparent reason.

Helena took the armchair next to you, leaning in slightly, her gaze warm, affectionate.

“How are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you said, mirroring her smile. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m wonderful,” she sighed, settling back. “Even better now that I have the two of you here. For a second, I thought something had happened—you know how Frankie is. Not exactly the most attentive on the phone.”

You turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, yeah. What are we gonna do?”

He was reclining against the couch now, one arm stretched across the backrest behind you. You glanced at him, at the way his shirt pulled slightly across his chest, at the way his fingers tapped absently against the cushion. For some reason, your gaze drifted downward before snapping back up. He shifted in his seat, like he’d noticed.

“Why don’t you just give me your number?” Helena suggested with a smile. “That way we—”

“Okay, c'mon,” Frankie interrupted suddenly, grabbing your hand before you could process it, pulling you up with him. “I’ll show you my old room. Until Mai gets here.”

“Francisco,” you muttered, glaring at him.

You turned to Helena instead. “Do you need help with anything?”

She stood too, shaking her head. “No, no, everything’s ready. You’re my special guest, sweetheart. Don’t worry about a thing. Go on, go.” She waved a hand, already half-smiling at the whole interaction.

Frankie, still holding your hand, tugged you gently toward the hallway. You sighed, letting him lead you.

“You didn’t have to cut her off like that,” you muttered under your breath, the words meant for him alone.

Frankie didn’t acknowledge the reproach, didn’t slow down or look back. He just kept walking, pulling you along with him like it was inevitable. His grip wasn’t rough, but it was unyielding, like he knew you wouldn’t follow if he let go too soon. The house felt quieter away from the living room.

Upstairs, he stopped in front of a door—varnished wood, gleaming under the dim light of the hallway. Without a word, he pushed it open and, in the same motion, released your wrist. He tipped his head toward the room, an unspoken instruction.

You stepped inside, arms crossed, your gaze adjusting to the dark. Behind you, Frankie shut the door and switched on a lamp perched on his bedside table. The room shifted under the glow, details surfacing in the soft light.

“Do you have any idea what would happen if my mom got your number?” he asked, leaning back against the desk by the window. His arms folded over his chest, and he watched you move through his space, the sight of you here—among his things—unsettling in a way he couldn’t name.

The room was warm, familiar in the way all well-lived-in spaces are. The walls, a deep kensington blue, were cluttered with posters—Pearl Jam, Wu-Tang Clan, Alice in Chains. You took them in, then drifted toward the bookshelf, running your fingers over the spines of neatly arranged books and notebooks. Star Wars figurines stood like sentinels between them and a couple of sports trophies sat beside them, dust catching in the light.

“Oh, I dunno,” you mused, tilting your head, “would she… talk to me?” You shot him a glance. “I didn’t know you were a Star Wars fan.”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. Exactly. She’d talk to you. She’d call you. And we don’t need that kind of closeness, given our situation.”

“Our situation,” you echoed, rolling the words around your mouth like they were foreign to you. Then you turned fully, closing the distance between you and him with a measured step. You tilted your head, studying him. “Well, you’re probably right. But you didn’t have to cut her off and haul me off the couch like that. That was rude.”

He shrugged, the motion effortless, indifferent. “It was the first thing that came to mind. I’m sorry.”

“Good,” you said, as you moved through the room, taking in every detail as if committing it to memory.

Near the desk, a basket ball rested against the leg of a folding chair, a black duffel bag slumped beside it, the fabric worn at the seams. The bed—narrow, neatly made—sat in the center of the room, facing the window. The dark gray comforter was pulled tight, a sharp contrast to the scattered items around it. On one bedside table, the lamp cast a soft glow, grounding the space in warmth. On the other, a picture frame leaned against a small stack of books, their spines creased from use.

Frankie stood a few steps away, arms still folded, head tilted down slightly, his gaze steady on you. There was something guarded in the way he watched, like he was waiting to see what you would find, what conclusions you might draw from the objects that had quietly accumulated over the years.

You wandered to the dresser, your attention caught by the corkboard mounted just above it. Photographs, ticket stubs, and scraps of old notes filled the space, overlapping in a way that suggested years of quiet additions rather than any real attempt at curation.

“No way,” you said suddenly, stepping closer, your fingers hovering just above a small, slightly faded photo. “This is you?”

Frankie moved beside you, following your gaze. The picture showed a little boy, no more than three years old, grinning at the camera, his face lit with pure, unfiltered joy. From the chest down, he was covered in mud, tiny fingers gripping a garden hose.

“It’d be weird if it wasn’t me, don’t you think?” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, it would be pretty weird.”

Your eyes drifted upward, landing on another photograph—an even younger version of him, maybe two years old, perched on his father’s lap. He was mid-laugh, his smile so wide it turned his eyes into crescents. His dad, leaning in, was pointing at the camera, as if directing him where to look.

“Oh,” you murmured, something warm settling in your chest. “You were so cute.” You lifted your hand slightly, gesturing toward the photo with the tip of your finger.

Frankie stared at it, something shifting in his expression. The smile that surfaced was small, almost absentminded. 

In that photo, Gabriel would have been close to the age Frankie was now. The thought struck him in a way he hadn’t expected, settling deep in his ribs.

He didn’t let himself think about him often—not for too long, not in any real way. The memories had sharp edges, capable of cutting through even the best intentions. He told himself he was lucky, that he’d had the kind of dad people spent lifetimes wishing for. But no matter how he framed it, the truth remained: he had lost him. And no matter how many times he tried to reach back through memory, to anchor himself in the past, he would never see him again in this life.

Most of the time, he was fine. He moved through his days with ease, followed the usual rhythms of his life without slipping too deep into the spaces where grief still lingered. He had learned how to exist in a version of reality where his dad was no longer a part of it. And most days, it was almost easy. Almost.  

But then, without warning, something would pull him back. It could be anything—a smell, a sound, a fleeting glimpse of a stranger on the street with the same posture, the same salt-and-pepper hair. Sometimes it was the scent of coffee, and for a split second, he’d expect to hear his father humming under his breath, flipping through the newspaper at the kitchen table. Sometimes it was a phrase, a turn of speech, something small and unremarkable that sent his mind reeling backward.  

Once, it was toast crumbs on the floor.  

He had been walking through the kitchen, barefoot, when he felt them under his heel—tiny, uneven grains pressing into his skin. The sensation triggered something immediate and sharp. His mind conjured the memory before he had a chance to resist it: his mom, sighing in exasperation as she swept under the table, grumbling about how his dad never remembered to wipe away the mess after breakfast. And sure enough, every time you moved a chair, there they were—scattered remnants of toast from the morning, a predictable constant.  

But now, the floor was always clean. There were no crumbs anymore.

No one forgot to sweep. No one was there to be scolded.  

Frankie crouched down without thinking, pressing his fingertips to the specks of bread as if touching them would anchor him to something. He stayed like that for too long, staring at them, his chest tightening, his throat burning with something too large to swallow down. And then, before he could stop himself, he was crying—suddenly, violently, without preamble.  

Because that was what grief was, mostly. A quiet, steady thing that made itself small enough to carry until, inevitably, it found a way to remind you of its weight.

“You look a lot like your dad,” you said suddenly, pulling him out of his own head.  

Frankie exhaled through his nose, his gaze flicking back to the photograph. “You think so?”  

You nodded, studying the picture again. “Yeah. Same eyes, same smile. Same head full of hair.”  

A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. “That’s a great compliment. Thank you.”  

“It is,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “You’re welcome.”  

Your eyes met for a second too long, something unspoken stretching between you before you looked away. You spun on your heels, crossing the room to the bed and sitting down with an easy drop, the mattress shifting under your weight. You pressed your palms into the comforter at your sides, fingers splayed behind you, staring absently at your feet.  

“It’s nice of your mom to keep your room the way it was,” you said, glancing around again. “Do you ever sleep in here?”  

Frankie walked over and sat beside you, his posture relaxed, knee bumping lightly against yours.

“Not so much anymore,” he admitted. “But I stayed for a couple of weeks after I left the CAG.”  

You turned your head toward him, brows pulling together like the question had come to you suddenly, urgently.

“And where do you live?”  

“At my house.”  

“And where is your house?”  

“In my neighborhood.”  

A sharp sigh escaped you, and you let yourself fall back onto the bed, arms sprawled out as you stared at the ceiling. Frankie laughed, watching you with something like amusement. You turned your head, meeting his gaze for a few beats longer than necessary before sitting up abruptly, as if realizing something all at once. Heat crept up your neck.  

You cleared your throat, stealing a glance at him from the corner of your eye.  

The smile on Frankie’s face widened slightly. He shifted, propping himself up on his arm, leaning a little closer, just enough to make you notice.  

“Old Enfield,” he finally said.  

Your brows lifted. “That’s nice.”  

“Hartford Road,” he added. “Two bedroom, one bathroom.”  

“Are you trying to sell me your house?”  

He smirked. “A couple of trees in the yard for Darcy to sharpen his claws on.”  

“Oh,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I bought him some toys for that.”  

Frankie tilted his head slightly. “I guarantee it doesn’t feel as good as a solid tree trunk.”  

“No?”  

“No.”  

“How do you know? Is that how you handle stress? You come home all tense, and the first thing you do is scratch your tree?”  

A slow, amused smile crept onto your lips, your eyes bright in the warm lamplight.  

Frankie huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah? Imagine how many trees I’ve torn up since I met you.”  

Your mouth parted slightly in exaggerated offense, and you let out a sharp gasp. “Really? What does that even mean? You must think about me a lot.”  

Frankie snorted. “How smug.”

A teasing smile curled at the corners of your lips. “If it bothers you that much, it must be true.”

"Sure."

"I bet you think about me."

"I really wouldn't take it as a compliment."

"Why not? Isn't your mind a good place for me?"

Frankie exhaled a quiet laugh, something just shy of a scoff.

“I can think of plenty of places you’d rather be.”

"Oh I dunno," you said, glancing around as if considering your options. "Seems pretty comfortable in here."

"For you, maybe." He tapped a finger against his temple. "Imagine being me. Living with a restless woman pacing around up here all day."

"Oh, baby. I've been there. All. My. Life. You can keep her, if you want."

Frankie let out a sharp laugh. “What, and lose my mind in the process?”

"Wow, Francisco." You turned to him fully now, studying his face in the low light. "Does she really get to you that much?"

"Oh, I bet you'd love that."

"Look at us," voice light, teasing. "Getting to know each other."

Frankie exhaled sharply, tilting his head as he settled back against the mattress. His hand rested just behind yours, close enough that the heat from his skin registered against your own.

“You really woke up in a particular mood today, huh?” he murmured. “Not bad for someone who barely slept and, you know, wet the bed.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“I did not wet the bed,” you said, dragging out each word for emphasis. “Jesus, let it go.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you tipped your head back, closing your eyes.  

Frankie smirked, but it faltered when his gaze drifted—unintentionally at first, and then not at all—to the exposed curve of your neck. The soft skin there, the way the dim light caught the angle of your jaw. His stomach tensed, a sharp, unwanted awareness settling into his chest. He looked away fast, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, fixing his eyes on the floor.  

What the hell was wrong with him?  

He wasn’t supposed to be looking at you like that. He wasn’t supposed to notice the slope of your shoulder or the way your breath moved through your ribs. His eyes weren’t supposed to track your every shift, like his body had decided on its own to be attuned to yours. But it was happening, whether he liked it or not.  

It hadn’t always been like this.  

Once, things were simpler—sharper, with cleaner edges. He hadn’t tolerated you, and you hadn’t tolerated him. That was the nature of things. You hardly spoke, and when you did, your conversations were clipped, necessary, transactional. Sure, he’d always known you were attractive—he wasn’t fucking blind—but it had never been something that lingered, something that rooted itself in his thoughts. The way you grated on him had left no space for anything else.  

Yeah. That was the dynamic. A bad relationship, plain and simple. No subtext, no buried tension.  

But something had shifted between the trip to Dallas and now. If Frankie had to pinpoint the exact moment, he’d place it right on Helena’s birthday. Because ever since that night, something had been moving inside him, spreading through his chest like a slow-burning fire, like an untamed creature waking up after years of stillness.  

A different kind of curiosity.  

The urge to understand what went on in your head, to know what you thought about when you were quiet, when your gaze lingered somewhere far away. A desire to pick apart the details of your life, the things you held close, the things you refused to share. And that morning, after the party, when he caught the shift in your expression—something breaking behind your eyes, something pulling you inward and shutting you off—he recognized it immediately. Because he had seen that same look staring back at him in the mirror more times than he could count.  

And the second he recognized it, something unfamiliar and unsteady took root in him. A pull, an absurd, inexplicable need to get you out of that place—to drag you away from whatever was weighing you down, from whatever was making your world feel so suffocatingly blue.  

After that, he started thinking about you more often. Too often. And it unsettled him, the way his thoughts drifted to you without permission, how your voice lingered in his mind long after a conversation ended. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  

And then there was the argument in the car. That had been worse than he expected. Not just because he’d been careless—insensitive, pressing too hard on things that weren’t his to touch—but because your words had struck something raw in him, something buried deep. And instead of feeling angry at you for it, he only felt the sharp sting of truth. It hurt, yeah, but it wasn’t the kind of hurt that made him resent you. It was the kind that made him resent himself a little more.

The weeks that followed were filled with thoughts of you, tangled and persistent, full of doubt and questions he wasn’t ready to answer.  

And then he went to see you.  

And the moment he did, he knew—whatever had changed, whatever had started that night at Helena’s birthday, it wasn’t something he could ignore anymore. Because it was here now, settled into his ribs, pressing against his lungs every time he looked at you.

And there was something different about you too. Frankie couldn’t ignore it. The way you looked at him—out of the corner of your eye, like you were in on some secret he hadn’t been let in on. You’d done it in the car, then again downstairs, and now, here, in the dim glow of his bedroom. It was subtle but persistent, like you knew something he didn’t.  

The strangest part was that it didn’t bother him. If anything, it only deepened his curiosity. This version of you—relaxed, playful, teasing—was unfamiliar but undeniably intriguing. It made him want to look closer, to figure out what had shifted between you.  

He glanced at you again. And there you were, already looking back at him.  

“What did you dream?” he asked, his voice quieter than he intended.  

Your head tilted slightly. “Why do you care?”  

“I didn’t, at first. But you’re being so secretive about it, and now I’m… curious.”  

“Too curious for your own good, I assume. Like a cat.” You crossed one leg over the other, shifting your weight, angling your body toward him.  

Frankie held your gaze, resisting the instinct to look anywhere else.  

“That’s another thing I have in common with them,” he mused.  

A small laugh escaped you. “Oh yeah? Sharpening your claws and letting curiosity win?”  

“Aha.” The corner of his mouth lifted.  

“Well,” you said, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “If I were you, I’d be careful. Last time Mr. Darcy let his curiosity get the better of him, he broke a glass.” You paused, watching him closely. “And you don’t want to break anything, do you?”

"I'm still deciding."  

You studied him, head tilted slightly, lips pursed just enough to suggest amusement.

"I'll tell you, but only if you give me something in return. A fair trade, don’t you think?"  

Frankie clicked his tongue, considering.

"Wel, it depends," he said, scratching his chin with the hand that had been resting in his lap. "What kind of information are we talking about?"  

"Tell me what you were talking about with Will."  

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "It's not that interesting."  

"Come on, tell me." You leaned in, just a fraction, your gaze locked onto his. "I deserve to know, don’t I? It’s about me. Tell me, and I’ll tell you about my dream."  

"I’ll tell you anything but that—for now."  

"Why?"  

Frankie exhaled, deep and measured.

"Alright. Don’t tell me your dream, then." He turned his head, fixing his eyes on the far wall, where an old, faded Soundgarden poster hung.  

You stiffened beside him. He felt it. And even though he tried to resist, his gaze found its way back to you.  

"I’ll tell you," he said, softer this time. "I promise."  

"When?"  

"I just need to be sure about something first."  

"Sure about what?"  

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you, studying your face as if searching for something. His eyes traced the slope of your cheek, the set of your mouth, the way your lashes flickered as you watched him. Then, as if deciding against saying more, he dropped his gaze to the floor and let out another sigh, this one heavier.  

"We should head down," he murmured, shifting to stand.  

You stayed where you were, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. He moved toward the door but didn’t open it right away. Instead, he turned, waiting for you. His hand rested on the handle, fingers tapping once.  

"C'mon," he said.  

Your body moved before your mind fully caught up. You stood abruptly, crossing the space between you in two quick strides. But instead of simply following him, you reached out, placing your hand firmly over his on the door handle. Then, without hesitation, you pushed it open yourself, forcing him to step back, now standing just beside you.  

His brows knit together, lips curving into something both amused and perplexed.  

You stopped, inches from him, the back of your shoulder nearly brushing his chest. Then, tilting your head slightly, you looked up at him, your voice lower now, almost conspiratorial.  

"It was a wet dream."  

Then you walked out, not waiting for his reaction, not sparing him even a glance.  

Frankie stood frozen in place, mouth slightly open, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. His hand remained on the door handle, grip slack, his gaze fixed on the empty hallway where you’d just disappeared.

Had he imagined it, or had you actually just told him that—No. No, you were messing with him. That was all.

It was simple. You wanted to get under his skin, to push him just enough that he’d slip up. You wanted to know what he and Will had talked about, and this was your strategy. It made sense, really. A calculated move. If you could make him uneasy, stoke his curiosity, you might get him to spill something. Let something slip. But Frankie wasn’t an idiot—he wasn’t going to fall for it.

At least now he understood what you were doing. And honestly? He didn’t mind. If this was how you wanted to play it, he could match you, step for step.

After a long moment—he wasn’t sure how many seconds had passed—he finally moved, stepping out of the room and heading downstairs. He could hear Mai’s voice, light and animated, drifting in from the living room. She was talking to you.

When he walked in, his sister looked up, her face brightening. She stood from her spot beside you and crossed the room to meet him, wrapping her arms around his torso in a warm hug.

“How are you?” she asked, patting his back with quick, affectionate taps.

“Good, good,” he murmured, catching your gaze for half a second over Mai’s shoulder. Then he pulled back, looking down at his sister with a small, affectionate smile. “You look cute, huh?”

“Thanks, you too,” she said, pinching his cheek between her fingers before letting go. Then, with a sly grin, she jabbed him lightly in the stomach. “Now, tell me—what were you doing upstairs with your girl, huh? You know the door should always stay open.”

Frankie snorted, shaking his head. Before he could answer, Helena appeared in the doorway, a bottle of wine balanced against her shoulder.

“Come on, dinner’s ready,” she announced with a smile.

Thirty minutes later, you were all seated around the dining table, the conversation ebbing and flowing around books and different editions of classics. It wasn’t a surprise, really. Frankie’s mom was a literature professor, you owned a bookstore, and you’d studied literature. Naturally, the discussion revolved mostly around the two of you. Frankie sat back, watching, listening, while Mai occasionally glanced at him with raised eyebrows and an amused little smirk.

“I’ll come by as soon as I can,” Helena was saying, raising her wine glass to her lips. “Promise you’ll save me a copy?”

You nodded. You were seated next to Frankie, but you’d barely acknowledged him all evening.

“Of course,” you said easily. “It’s a promise.”

The book in question was a limited edition of Madame Bovary—one of the best, reliable translations and beautifully restored prints.

“Thank you, darlin',” Helena said. “Although I still believe nothing compares to reading in the original language, don’t you think?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed, setting your wine glass down on the tablecloth. “That’s why I took Italian lessons. I wanted to read The Divine Comedy .” You laughed, a light, melodic sound. Frankie’s eyes flicked to you, drawn there without thinking, but your attention remained on his mother. “And when I finally did, it was incredible. The words sound different—almost like music. It’s not the same in English. So much gets lost in translation.”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” Helena nodded enthusiastically. “I read it in Italian too! Such a stunning piece of work. Dante was something else.”

“I love it,” you said. “And the story with Beatrice is just—well, it’s fascinating. Or, I suppose, their non-story.”

Helena smiled at that, something fond in her expression.

Mai, looking between the two of you, arched an eyebrow. “What happened with Dante and Beatrice?” she asked, half-laughing at the intensity of the discussion.

“Oh, it’s terribly romantic,” Helena sighed, reaching for her daughter’s hand. “They met as children—very young. And by all accounts, Dante fell in love with her at first sight. But they never really spoke. Almost never interacted at all. He only ever saw her, passing by on the street.”

Mai frowned slightly. “That’s kind of—”

“Then,” Helena continued, “Beatrice married someone else. And she died young, at twenty-five. But Dante never forgot her. He wrote about her, again and again. And in The Divine Comedy, she becomes this celestial figure. A messenger in Hell, guiding him through Purgatory. And when he finally sees her again, it’s as if he’s nine years old, looking at her for the first time. And in Paradise, she goes to heaven—because that’s where she belongs. Like an angel.”

Mai blinked. “That’s...depressing.”

Helena sighed, shaking her head as if she’d heard this take before. Frankie let out a quiet chuckle, the sound barely audible over the clinking of silverware. You, sitting beside him, smiled in amusement but said nothing.

“What?” Mai demanded, raising her eyebrows. “She died. And anyway, how did he even know it was real? She married someone else, didn’t she? For a reason.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Helena said, her tone affectionate but certain, “we’re talking about centuries ago. Marriages weren’t exactly love matches. Most were arranged. I think Dante himself was engaged as a child.”

“That’s true,” you chimed in, setting your wine glass down. “Beatrice was married off at fifteen, and Dante was engaged by the time he was twelve. They saw each other once when they were kids, and then years later, they passed each other in the street. She greeted him—just a simple hello—and that same night, he dreamt of La Vita Nuova.” You paused, pressing your lips together for a moment, as if carefully recalling the details. “I think they might have crossed paths twice more after that, but by then, I think she was already married. Dante could never have done more than dream about her.”

Helena exhaled softly, her expression wistful. “It was an impossible love.”

Mai looked vaguely amused. “Even if it was unrequited?”

Helena nodded. “Unrequited, unrealized—it doesn’t matter. He loved and idealized her in his own way. She became his muse.”

Mai nodded, unconvinced. “I get it. Still, he kinda sounds like a creep.”

Helena exhaled sharply, already losing patience. Frankie had seen this a hundred times—the exasperation, the incredulous little shake of her head, the way her lips pursed before she spoke. It was fun.

“He never even went near her, Maia,” she said, waving a hand for emphasis. “It’s not like Dante was some kind of obsessed pervert, lurking around corners. He respected her. He didn’t follow her, didn’t bother her.”

“And how do you know that?” Mai pressed, her tone deliberately provocative.

Helena let out a dramatic sigh and gave her daughter a light smack on the hand.

“You do this on purpose!” she accused, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Then, suddenly, you spoke. “And what do you think?”

Frankie looked at you, caught off guard. “Me?”

“Yes. What do you think? About Dante and Beatrice.” You were looking at him, really looking at him, your gaze steady and expectant.

He blinked, the remnants of his earlier smile fading as he processed the question. From the other side of the table, Helena and Mai turned toward him, equally interested. It seemed they were curious too.

Frankie hesitated, eyes flickering from your face to some vague point behind your shoulder, as if the answer might be written there. Then, after a few seconds, he met your gaze again.

“I think…” He exhaled through his nose, thoughtful. “We’ve all been through it.”

There was a beat of silence, but his eyes stayed on yours, just a fraction too long.

Helena gasped, her expression scandalized. “Frankie!”

He turned toward her, confused. “What?”

“You can’t say that in front of your girlfriend!”

You and Mai burst into laughter at the same time.

Frankie frowned. “Say what?”

Helena gave him an exasperated look. “We’ve all been through it? Are you saying you have your own Beatrice out there somewhere?”

Frankie froze, mouth slightly open, eyebrows raised. For a second, he’d forgotten—forgotten that, in his mother’s mind, you were his girlfriend. Forgotten that he wasn’t just speaking to you, alone.

“Oh,” he said, almost under his breath. Then, clearing his throat, he added, “Right. She’s my Beatrice.”

Your eyes widened slightly, amusement flickering across your face as his gaze returned to you. A small, knowing smile started to unravel at the corners of your lips.

“But with a happy ending, right?” Frankie added, tilting his head ever so slightly, a smirk forming.

You lifted your chin, watching him with something that looked a lot like affection—but softer, more playful, something almost unspoken.

“Clever, huh?” You raised an eyebrow.

“That’s right, honey, don’t let him off the hook,” Mai teased, narrowing her eyes at her brother like she was onto something.

Frankie let out a dry laugh. “Shut up.”

Mai grinned, triumphant.

Then you tilted your head slightly, eyes flicking to Helena. “Now that I think about it… didn’t they say Dante might’ve had narcolepsy?”

Helena’s brows lifted in consideration.

“Oh, I’m not sure,” she admitted, tapping a finger lightly against her wine glass. “But I think some people speculate that would explain his blackouts and visions.”

“It would make a lot of sense,” you said, thoughtful. “So much of what he wrote about involved sleep, passing out… hallucinations.”

Helena nodded, already intrigued.

“That’s true, that’s true.” Her eyes brightened. “Now you’ve got me curious—I’ll have to look into that.”

You smiled, lifting your glass to your lips, taking a small sip before setting it down. Then you exhaled, something soft and fascinated in your expression.

“It’s amazing,” you murmured. “Dreams, dreams and all that.”

Frankie was looking at you.

He wasn’t sure why, but the way you said it—like you were half here, half somewhere else entirely—made his stomach turn over. The side of his mouth twitched, something close to a smirk, but his gaze was steady, fixed. Unrelenting.

And yet, you didn’t even glance at him. Your eyes stayed on Helena and Mai, following their conversation, nodding along as they spoke. Whatever pull you had on him, it was effortless. Completely unintentional.

He dragged his attention back to the table just as Mai started complaining about a recent freelance project—a website for some clothing brand—that had turned into a disaster when her laptop decided to die mid-edit.

Dinner, all things considered, was a success.

After the plates were cleared, Helena announced it was time for dessert and returned moments later with a chocolate and strawberry cake that looked unfairly good. She uncorked a bottle of late-harvest wine, grinning as she held it up. “Sauvignon Blanc, to elevate the chocolate.”

Frankie poured himself a glass, just one. He still had to drive, even if, at this point, with the way you were acting, he could’ve easily finished the entire bottle.

By the time the evening wound down, the warmth of summer had settled thick and golden over the front porch. The air clung to bare legs, and a gentle breeze ghosted over your neck, light and fleeting.

Helena pulled Frankie into a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek, her palm lingering against his face for a moment. “Take care of yourself, yeah?” she said softly. “And pick up the damn phone every once in a while.”

Mai hugged him next, squeezing him tight before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “And don’t be an idiot with avoidant attachment,” she added pointedly.

Frankie rolled his eyes, but there was affection in it.

With you, they were just as warm, maybe even more so. Helena hugged you like you were already part of the family, reminding you to come back soon. She patted your arm as she stepped back, eyes bright. “I’ll stop by the shop for my book, okay?,” she promised, “and I’ll buy you a coffee while I’m there.”

Frankie stood by, watching the exchange, resisting the sudden, inexplicable urge to cut in. To say you had to go. To say something.

But he didn’t.

Now, you were in the car.

As always, music poured from the speakers, filling the quiet space between you. It had a certain magic to it at this hour—the way the city lights blurred past the windows, the hush of the late-night streets, the familiar warmth of a song that somehow felt perfectly timed. Drive by The Cars.

Neither of you spoke as it played, the soft, melancholy synth weaving through the silence, until the lyrics seemed to catch both of your attention at once.

Who's gonna pay attention

to your dreams?

A small, knowing smile pulled at your lips. You turned your head, resting your chin against the palm of your hand, elbow propped on the door as you looked out at the city.

Beside you, Frankie let out a quiet huff of laughter, his gaze flicking toward you for a second too long. He could tell you thought it was funny too.

“C’mon.” His voice was low, edged with amusement. “Spit it out.”

You glanced at him, but his eyes were fixed ahead, steady on the road.

“What?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just nodded, as if confirming something to himself, then kept driving in silence until you rolled up to a red light.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he said then, finally looking at you. This time, fully.

You blinked at him. “What am I trying to do?”

His gaze was unreadable, the dim light from the dashboard catching on the sharp angle of his jaw.

“It’s obvious.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “A wet dream, you said?” His eyes flicked down your frame, slowly, then back to your face, his expression smug. “Wet. So you did wet the bed. I’ll take that as confirmation.”

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at him. Amused, despite yourself. Trying to appear unimpressed but failing.

“I won’t tell you anything about it without a fair exchange, Francisco.”

“Yeah,” he said easily. “Not interested.”

“You don’t look that way.”

He scoffed, lifting a shoulder. “What do you mean? Look at me. I don’t care.”

You tilted your head, studying him.

“Is that why you went quiet at the table?”

Something flashed in his eyes, something quick and unreadable, before he turned his head back toward the road.

“Apparently, you’re more interested in my interest than I am, baby,” he murmured. His voice dipped just enough to make your stomach pull tight. Then, a small smirk. “Why’s that?”

His head tilted slightly, gaze lowering, and your eyes instinctively followed the movement.

You said nothing. Just faced forward again, and he did the same.  

When the light changed, Frankie pressed down on the gas, the car gliding forward into the quiet, empty streets. Neither of you spoke for the rest of the drive.  

You probably hadn’t even dreamed anything. You were probably just making it up to get under his skin. And he didn’t care.  

Right?  

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to ask. Wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction.  

So he kept his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel, and let the silence settle between you.  

By the time he pulled up in front of your house, he just turned the car off without thinking, like some part of him knew he wasn’t leaving just yet.  

Neither of you moved.  

The car sat still, parked beneath the dull glow of the streetlamp, filling with the kind of silence that wasn’t entirely comfortable, but wasn’t tense either. 

You sat with your hands in your lap, absently twisting your fingers together, and Frankie leaned against the driver’s side door, resting his head in his palm, his elbow propped up. His gaze flickered out the window, scanning the empty sidewalk, but every few seconds, his eyes found their way back to you.  

Then, as if remembering something, he straightened.  

“So,” he said, voice cutting through the quiet, and you turned toward him. “About skydiving—there’s a place about an hour from here that’s really good. An old friend of mine works there, said they’ve got some spots open this month.”  

Your lips parted slightly, a quick inhale.  

“Really?” A smile was already tugging at the corners of your mouth. “When?”  

“As soon as you want, I hope.”  

“This weekend?” you asked, eyes lighting up. “Do they work weekends?”  

Frankie chuckled at your enthusiasm, shaking his head.

“Yeah, of course they do. You wanna go this weekend?”  

“Are you kidding?” You turned in your seat fully now, excitement buzzing in your voice. “Of course!”  

He laughed at that, his own grin slipping easily into place.

“Alright, done. I’ll book it early tomorrow.” He reached for his phone, unlocking it with one hand. “I can send you the website if you wanna check it out.”  

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah, definitely. God, that’s crazy.” You exhaled, leaning back into your seat, eyes still shining.  

“I think you’re gonna love it.”  

“You think so?”  

“I’m sure,” he said, glancing down at his screen as he tapped something in. A second later, your phone buzzed.  

You picked it up, lips pressing together as you bit back a smile.  

“Yeah,” you murmured. “So am I.”  

Then your brow furrowed slightly. “How much is the jump?”  

“Don’t worry about it.”  

Your head snapped toward him. “Why?”  

Frankie just waved a hand, already setting his phone back down.  

“Hey, no,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m sure it’s not cheap. Just tell me and—”  

“No, no.” His voice was firm, his eyes locking onto yours, dark and steady. “Don’t even think about it.”  

Your mouth opened slightly, but he cut you off before you could protest.  

“Consider it my conciliation gift.”  

You stared at him for a second, watching the way he sat there, relaxed, like it was settled. Like you couldn’t argue even if you wanted to.  

Your fingers tightened slightly around your phone.  

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head again, but softer this time. Less like you were disagreeing. More like you didn’t know what to do with him.  

Frankie just smirked.

Silence settled again, but this time, it didn’t feel charged. Just easy.   

Frankie could tell you were thinking about something. He recognized the way your gaze lingered outside the window, the way your fingers lightly traced over the hem of your skirt, absentminded, like whatever was on your mind had wrapped itself around you completely.   

And you weren’t in a hurry to leave the car.   

He hesitated, debating whether to ask. Then, before he could overthink it, he did.  

“You okay?” His voice was quiet, careful. He reminded himself to tread lightly, to not push too much, to not ask something that might put you off. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.  

You didn’t answer right away. Just exhaled, slow and measured, before speaking.  

“Harry’s wedding is on friday.”    

Right. The wedding. He’d forgotten. But you hadn’t.   

From the tone of your voice, it didn’t sound like it hurt the way it used to, like the wound had at least stopped bleeding. But you still cared.  

“Oh,” he said, dragging a hand over his mouth. He wasn’t sure how to phrase his next words, wasn’t sure what was the right thing to ask. “And how do you feel about that?”  

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, almost like you found his question funny, and turned to look at him with something warm in your eyes.   

“Please don’t do that.”  

Frankie frowned slightly. “Do what?”  

“Tiptoe around me.” You tilted your head, giving him a look, affectionate but teasing. “I know our fight was... ugly. But you don’t have to treat me like I might break. I’m okay, really.”  

He sighed through his nose, shifting in his seat. “I just don’t wanna sound nosy. Or ask something I shouldn’t.”  

“I know.” You nodded, your voice softer now. “And I appreciate that. But I promise you can ask me about this.”  

Frankie watched you for a second before nodding back.  

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, bracing himself before speaking again.  

“Do you wanna go?”  

You didn’t answer immediately. Your fingers tapped lightly against your chin, your eyes unfocused, staring ahead like you were untangling something in your mind.  

Then, finally, you let out a small breath.  

“I feel a little silly,” you admitted. “But I think I do.”  

Frankie leaned back against his seat, brow furrowing slightly.  

“Why?”

“I know you’re right.”  

Your voice was steady, but something in your expression wavered as you turned to look at him. The dim streetlight outside cast a soft glow across your face, catching the shine in your eyes, making them look almost luminous in the quiet darkness of the car.  

“There’s no real reason to go,” you admitted. “No logical one, at least. It’d be... masochistic, probably. But at the same time, I feel like I need to bury all of this. Just see it. See it with my own eyes. Put a bow on it and give it away, let it go. You know?”  

Frankie didn’t say anything, just listened, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel.  

“I think I’m close to that,” you continued, more to yourself than to him. “I wasn’t before. I wasn’t that night, when we argued, but after that... I don’t know. I think fighting with you even forced me to face it.” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head, almost amused. “Because I realized I was still hurting over something that didn’t make sense. I mean, yeah, it was painful, but that’s it.”  

Frankie shifted slightly, glancing at you. “Don’t take what I said that night too seriously. I was—” He paused, searching for the right word. “Rude.”  

“Maybe,” you acknowledged. “But you weren’t wrong about some things.”  

For a moment, there was nothing but the distant hum of passing cars. You exhaled, more certain now.  

“I wanna go,” you said simply. “Put this behind me once and for all. See it with my own eyes.” You pressed your palms against your thighs, as if grounding yourself in the decision.  

Frankie nodded, like it was that simple. “Okay. If you want to go, let’s go.”  

You turned to him, frowning slightly. “You don’t have to come with me, though.”  

“What do you mean?” He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to?”  

“No, it’s not that.” You shook your head quickly. “I just mean—I’m already dragging you into this skydiving thing, and everything else on my list. I don’t want to take up your whole weekend.”  

“I don't mind.” The words came easy, deep and certain, like he didn’t even have to think about them.  

You studied him for a beat, like you were searching for a lie, for some sign that he was just saying it to be nice.  

Then, as if trying to call his bluff, you said, “Surely you have other things to do. Hasn’t Santi texted you? He bought a new grill. He sent me a pic.”

Frankie smothered a laugh, shaking his head.

“I don’t mind going with you. I mean it.” His voice was even, assured, like there was no room for argument. “Besides, we made a deal, didn’t we? And if I remember correctly, I told you—I don’t break my promises.”  

“Yes, you did.” Your voice was light, but there was something behind it, something teasing. The kind of softness that made him want to keep talking just to hear it again. Your eyes lingered on his face, studying him like you were trying to memorize something.  

Frankie shifted slightly, leaning in just a little.

“And anyway,” he added, his voice dropping an octave, “I know you’re going to look incredible in whatever dress you wear. I’d be an idiot to miss that.”  

Your lips curved, the smile slow and knowing, your eyes locked on his. Neither of you moved, caught in something suspended. 

Frankie could feel the weight of it settle between you, something warm, something he shouldn’t want but did anyway. He couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to.  

“What time?” he asked, voice quieter now.  

“The wedding starts at five. At the Marriott.”  

“I’ll pick you up at four-thirty.”  

“Okay.”  

“Perfect.”  

“I’ll be waiting.”  

“I know.”  

You held his gaze, the air between you thick and charged, like the last moment before a storm breaks. Then, just as he thought you might say something else, you reached for your seatbelt, unfastening it with an easy click. But instead of moving away, you leaned in first, just enough for him to catch the faintest hint of your perfume, just enough for his breath to catch.  

And then your lips were on his cheek, warm and soft, gone too soon.  

Frankie exhaled, gripping the steering wheel like it might keep him grounded.  

You pulled back without hesitation, opening the door and stepping out. The night swallowed you in one smooth movement, but before you turned to leave, you dipped down, peeking through the open window.  

“Goodnight, Dante.” Your head tilted, the corners of your lips still curved, your eyes bright beneath the streetlights.  

Frankie let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Beatrice.”  

You didn’t linger. Just turned and walked toward your door, your steps unhurried, your silhouette framed by the dim porch light.  

Frankie watched you the entire time.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Taglis: @paleidiot @gothcsz @everyth1ngfan @katw474 @mellymbee @pedritosgirl2000 @tsunamistorm123 @jokesonthem @sunnytuliptime @greenwitchfromthewoods @ashleyfilm @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti @daybleedsintonightfa11 @mys2425 @pigeonmama @speaktothehandpeasants @pez3639 @stylesispunk @imaginecrushes @isla-finke-blog @smiithys @jokesonthem @brittmb115 @sukivenue @awkwardmebaby @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @suzysface @picketniffler @gaypoetsblog @merz-8 @doblasftcisco @ultra-nina-bella

[myfictionaldreams]

For a request do you think you could write poly!marauders and how they would deal with James or Siri dropping into subspace or drop?

Prong's Day // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

Summary: James was having one of the best days of his life, and what better way to celebrate it than in the arms of the ones he loves?

Requested by: Thank you for the request, my love! I hope you like it!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, angst, subspace, subdrop, sub!james (baby boy), dom!sirius, dom!remus, sub!reader, comfort, oral (f / m receiving), orgasm denial, aftercare

Words: 2.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The crowd's roar was almost deafening as James Potter, with a shit-eating grin and all, lifted his fist in the air, displaying the golden snitch he had just caught. The quidditch seeker circled the pitch on his broom, as proud as ever as he savoured every second of the never-ending cheering.

“Potter!” screamed someone from his left. Before he had time to brace for impact, multiple of his fellow Gryffindor quidditch players had tackled him midair. It was a miracle they all managed to stay on the broom. “We won! We won!”

The infamous game against Slytherin had been won; they hadn’t even won the Quidditch Cup yet. However, Gryffindor had been on a losing streak against Slytherin over the last three years, so the excitement from the Gryffindor team was much deserved.

Your throat burned from the effort of screaming so loud. You couldn’t be more proud of James and Sirius as they continued to celebrate in the air. You were squished thoroughly amongst the crowd, being pulled from one jumping hug to another. 

“Come one, let’s go down there!” Remus had to yell so that you could even hear him. Thankfully, he was taller than most, and you were able to spot him amongst your group of friends. “Grab my hand.” You did, holding on for dear life as he eased the two of you through the crowd until you were in the stairwell. It seemed everyone else had a similar idea as masses of people followed after the two of you to storm the pitch and celebrate with the team.

It took some time to find him, but soon, you’re in James' warm, crushing hug, screaming your congratulations into his ear. You’re breathless by the time you can repeat the sentiment with Sirius, whose hair was becoming loose from the low bun he’d pulled it into.

James is then collectively lifted into the air by his fellow quidditch team. It was the most fun you’d had in months as the celebrations continued as the party converged in the  Gryffindor common room for the after-party. It was so loud and obnoxious that you were surprised that Professor McGonagall hadn’t shut it down, but from the whispers amongst the party-goes, she was partying just as hard in Hogsmeade.

The night soon came upon you as the music and joy had everyone in great spirits. As the clock struck midnight, you stumbled upon James, red and gold lions pained on his face and eyes drooping with exhaustion. In his current position, you would have felt the same level of comfort as he was sitting sideways on Remus’ lap in an armchair by the fire as his boyfriend whispered into his ear.

“Did someone party too hard?” you ask quietly, trying not to disturb James, but he still looks up at you with a goofy grin.

“Nope”, James responds whilst putting emphasis on the ‘P’. Resting against the arm of the chair, you began to comb your fingers through his untameable hair, finding the strands surprisingly soft as James’ eyes closed in contentment.

Smiling softly at his handsome face, your eyes darted to Remus who was also watching with adoration, his hands running up and down James' legs. “I was just telling Prongs how proud I am of him, " Remus explains, giving you a subtle wink. A hint of rosy blush deepened over James' face as he nuzzled into his boyfriend's neck. You’d noticed James's signs of neediness from the moment he was wrapped in a hug on the pitch.

It wasn’t often that James naturally became submissive, but when he did, your heart melted at how soft he became and how much you wanted to care for him. “I’m proud of you, too. I can’t believe how quickly you won the match for everyone. It was incredible!” You gave your own praise to James while continuing to massage his scalp gently.

“Thank you, " he mumbled, still hiding his face in Remus’ neck.

Leaning down to kiss the back of his head, you moved away, “I’ll leave you two to have some boyfriend time together”. Mostly, you just knew how rewarding it was to be in this headspace and to have Remus doting after you, wanting James to have some one-on-one time. As much as the boys could be dominant in their own ways, Remus was a caretaker and a giver, always craving to be praised and looked after by his submissives while remaining in charge. 

However, a firm hand suddenly held onto your wrist as James partially sat up, “Wait, don’t go. I want you to be here too”. Now that he was properly looking you in the eye, you could see how glassy-eyed he appeared, realising that not only was James relaxed and content but when he was like this, it usually meant he was in some kind of subspace, whether it be in a sexual way or just needing to be touched and cared for.

Crouching down so you were closer to James, your hands rested against his chest, feeling the excitable thumping of his heart. “Yeah, you want me to stay?” James nods tiredly, head relaxing against Remus’ shoulder. “Where exactly do you want me to be?”

Your fingers lowered to skim over his calves, intending to stroke against Remus’ fingers, who clutched yours, squeezing reassuringly. You were submissive down to your very core. However, when James was like this, you needed to appear more confident and dominant just to make sure that he felt like he was being cared for and also to take away the pressure from James to care for you so he could enjoy the experience completely.

James' hand cups your face, pulling you closer until your lips hover over his. “You know where I want you”.

Kissing him slowly, you couldn’t help but moan and lean completely into him, even if the position was awkward with Remus being squished beneath, but he never complained. James’ face tilted, his mouth opening eagerly as your tongue slipped and pressed against his. He tasted sweet and oh-so addictive.

From the deep groans and the way he was clutching onto your face, he was enjoying it just as much as you were. Easing back onto your knees to catch your breath, you continued to push his black floppy hair away from his forehead as he slowly opened his eyes and asked, “Please sit on my face”.

The burst of laughter that escaped you was not meant to be as loud as it was as people around the room looked over curiously. You try to reassure him by covering your mouth as James’ blush deepens.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to be that loud. I don’t think we can do that before all these people.”

Before you can comprehend the sudden movement, James is out of his seat and pulling you toward the dormitory stairs. As you pass another group of friends, you hear Sirius bellow, “Hey, where are you all going? I want to come!”

You couldn’t help but snort at the lingering innuendo, shouting, “Follow us then!” You’d never chased up the stairs so quickly before, feeling breathless by the time you’d made it to the boy's dorm.

James swung the door open and sprinted for the magically sized bed, enthusiastically jumping into the centre. He did not appear as out of breath as you and flashed you another grin. “Come and sit on my face,” he said.

With how keen he seemed, you were already soaked and throbbing with need as you reached beneath your skirt and eased your damp underwear down your legs, kicking them off. “Where are your manners?” You jest whilst beginning to crawl on the bed, half away from where Remus and Sirius had also joined the room. 

“Now, this is my kinda party”, Sirius cheers whilst locking the dorm door and then moving around the bed to join James on his other side. For a second, you admired Sirius, immediately taking control by gripping James's jaw and kissing him deeply.

James emerged from the kiss even more starry-eyed than before, his gaze returning to you. “Sorry. Please come and sit on my face. Smother me, my love.”

Your cheeks warm at the crudeness of his words, but not stopping as you crawl onto the bed. Sirius’s hands are on you in a second, but only to give you some help as you straddle over James’ chest whilst leaning on Sirius so you don’t topple over.

James hands then settle on your thighs underneath your skirt, pulling on them until you’re pussy is well and truly smushed against his mouth. That man, are you out with all the enthusiasm of when he’d first caught the snitch as his face was now completely covered by your body and skirt. 

His tongue licked you from asshole to clit, pushing as deep as he could into your clenching cunt, drinking every last drop of your arousal before sucking on your clit in harsh pulses. Your hips were bucking and grinding on his face to a point you weren’t entirely sure how he was breathing, but not for one second did James move you off. He held you down firmly, moaning and savouring every second.

Sirius mainly had to hold you up as you cried out. Even more so when, over your shoulder, you watched Remus undoing James’ belt, pulling his trousers and boxers down until his cock was exposed. The entire length disappeared down Remus’ throat as he greedily sucked on James.

The response of groans vibrated against your clit, causing your eyes to roll back, chasing that high that was so very close. Sirius captures your screams as you orgasm by kissing you deeply. It was nearly overwhelming the need to please him, the pulsing waves of pleasure and trying not to completely squish James’ head between your thighs.

It takes you a couple of minutes to try and find your bearings whilst sucking in deep breaths of air as Sirius sits back to admire your face. With his help, you’re able to sit back and hover over James’ chest as he continues to be orally pleasured by Remus.

What you weren’t expecting was for James’ grip to tighten around your thighs and for him to pull your hips back to his face. “I wasn’t finished”, he growls desperately whilst trying to lift his head to push his tongue into your cunt.

Glancing tentatively at Sirius for help, you moved back again, pressing a hand against James’ forehead so he was forced to look up at you. “James, baby, I don’t think I can go again so quickly. I’m a little sensitive right now.” It's safe to say James looked a little heartbroken by this. For a moment, you were sure he was potentially too lost in his subspace, but thankfully, Sirius came to your rescue.

“If you want something to lick Prongs, I’ve got just the thing. Come on, Darling, sit back here and watch the fun”. Carefully holding onto Sirius, he helped you to sit back against the headboard, giving you another chaste kiss before unbuckling his belt. 

James was just as eager for Sirius as you watched him kneeling next to the lying man and slowly thrust his cock into his mouth. There was nothing you found more highly erotic than watching your boyfriends kissing and touching one another as your fingers slipped beneath your skirt. 

With each groan and slurp, your fingers circled your clit until you were designing against your own hand.

“Don’t cum”, Remus ordered, and at first, it was instinct to assume he was talking to you, but as you look down at James’ body towards the scarred man, you realise that his green eyes are entirely focused on the man who’s cock was in his mouth.

James tried to cry out but was muffled by Sirius’ member, still bobbing in and out of his mouth. You knew from the way his back was arching and fists clenching that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer, and it appears the others noticed this too as Sirius quickly came down James’ through. “That’s it, swallow it all. Good boy. Remember what Moony said, you can’t come yet”.

James swallowed everything Sirius gave him, but with his mouth now empty, he begged and begged to cum. “Please, I- I need to cum, I can’t hold it in”.

Sirius takes a moment to look you over and asks, “What do you think? Should we let him cum for being so good for us?” You were just opening your mouth to agree with Sirius when James suddenly cries out, eyes closing as he cums violently on Remus’ tongue.

The man moaned as much as James had as he, too, swallowed it all, looking pleased with James, not that James could see this as he continued to keep his eyes closed, his face a mixture of pain and pleasure. “I’m- I’m s-sorry, I tried, I re-really tried. I didn’t mean to”, James stuttered, his breathing coming out in quick rushes as he struggled to control himself.

It was clear to everyone else that James had become overwhelmed by it all, and as he was already in the neverending headspace with his submission, just like you would, he began to experience a subdrop. Before you could even reach for James, he was covering his face, trying to push away from both men and turning into the mattress beneath him.

“I’m sorry, I failed, I’m sorry”, he repeated repeatedly as he came close to hyperventilating. Your fingers delved into his thick hair, trying to calm him in any way possible. 

“Baby, it’s okay. Listen to me, James. I don’t want you to talk; just take some deep breaths for us.” Your voice remains calm and reassuring.

James, though, continued to chant and hide himself away. Sirius now moves to kneel next to the bed so his face can be closer to James’. “James, Darling, I need you to listen to me carefull,y and you can’t do that if you’re shouting. That’s it. Take a deep breath for me through your nose and out through your mouth. You aren’t going to be punished, it’s ok that you came. I know today has been a lot for you; we shouldn’t have pushed you”.

It was then that you realised that James was worried that he’d be punished by Sirus or Remus for cumming without permission and why he was now experiencing a subdrop. Your main priority was making sure that James felt loved and safe.

“James, I love you; please turn over so we can look after you properly.” You tried to coax him while continuing to gently run over his head and the top of his back.

“Give him a little space, Love?” Remus’ calming yet authoritative voice asked as he moved up the bed. Sitting back with Sirius against the headboard once more, you watched as Remus, always the one to help the most in these situations, did what he did best, and that was to care.

Cupping the back of Remus, he was able also to wrestle his arm beneath James and lift him up, so he was now resting entirely against Remus’ chest. Rocking the two of them carefully, Remus continued to speak quietly to him. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to punish you tonight. I love you, and I need you to understand that. We just pushed you too fa,r like Sirius says, and we’re sorry for trying to edge you for so long. You’re safe; we love you and are still so proud of you.”

James’ breaths finally evened out to a slow, deep pace as he blinked up at Remus, who carefully removed his glasses so that he could wipe away the tears on James’ face. “How about we strip off, get under the sheets and cuddle for a bit? I know how much she wants to cuddle with you” Remus nods in your direction.

“Please, James, come cuddle with me”. After what feels like a lifetime, you’re rewarded with James's small but tired smile. All four of you begin to remove your clothing with your back resting against the pillows; James half lays his toned chest over your body until his face is innocently pressed against your breasts.

Kissing his temple gently, you ask, “Better?”

“Much better, thank you Love”. You can’t help but sigh at hearing him say those words and appear more like himself. Sirius then coaxes James to drink some water and then yourself, whilst Remus breaks off a couple of cubes of chocolate for each of you.

“I just want to say, " Sirius begins to say, getting comfortable beneath the blankets and reaching for James’ hand. “I’m really proud of you today; you kicked Slytherin's ass, and I don’t think we’re done giving you rewards for that, by the way. Get some sleep, and I want first dibs on kissing that pretty little arse of yours tomorrow, and you can cum as many times as you like”.

James grins against your breast, his chest shaking with a light laugh. Then he slows to a deep sleep, and you stay awake for a bit longer, enjoying holding him in your arms.