#and they’re not made too dark so you can actually see what the fuck is going on

[atlafan]

I actually enjoyed the new ant man and it was genuinely good, I think some of y’all just hate to have fun

[secretly-dum]

Could I get a Joel miller x reader fic where the reader gets her period and her past partners always made her sleep on the couch bc they thought it was gross and Joel is just like wtf at someone treating his daeling like that?

Come Back to Bed, Please?

pairing: joel miller x AFAB!reader

genre: romantic fluff <3

summary: you get your period and freak out over what Joel’s reaction could be.

warning/contents: reader has a period, blood mentions(obv), Y/N is used, AFAB reader, mentions of past relationships, it gets a tad bit angsty.

additional notes: ty for the request!! Im actually AFAB(I identify as agender btw) so I can relate to this 😭

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Your stomach starts to hurt and you immediately realize what time of the month it is. You rush to the bathroom and grab your stash of pads underneath the cold sink.

Knock, knock.

You completely forgot about Joel..

“Uh..Y/N? You..you alright…?” Joel questions worryingly, thinking the worst that could possibly happen to you.

“I’m alright…I’m just on period!” You yell out nervously, hoping that he wouldn’t make a snarky remark or say you’re disgusting.

“Alright, just tell me if you need anything.” He says and you hear him walk away. Fear washes off of you, but confusion starts to settle in when he didn’t give you the reaction you thought we was going to give you. Cleaning yourself up, a cold darkness settles outside, indicating that you should start to go to rest.

“Took Ellie to sleep, she told me to tell you ‘goodnight’” Joel says chuckling softly and you smile.

“Well, I’m tired too. Think I’m gonna head to bed now.” You say as you pick up your pillow and a blanket from you and Joel’s shared bed.

“Woah woah woah! The hell are ya’ doing?”

“Picking up my stuff…?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m on my period, dummy.” You nonchalantly reply, and lay down on the couch. Joel looks at you with the most confused expression ever and realization hits you like a truck.

“That don’t mean you have to sleep on the couch.” His southern deep accent breaks the short silence between the two of you. Opening your mouth, your voice seemingly disappears from your throat, and now you’re the one confused.

“But that doesn’t…that doesn’t make you disgusted? Or something? Doesn’t that bother you?” You say, barely above a whisper.

“No…? Y/N…god dammit.” He pinches the bridge of his nose making you even more confused.

“Wha-“

“I’ve dealt with all sorts of blood before. I’ve seen clickers in front of me, and those shits are nasty. You really think blood like that is gonna bother me?”

Now that he says it, that really doesn’t make sense. His statement lingers in your head for a while before you say something.

“Well- I guess that’s just a reaction I get a lot. My past partners didn’t like the fact that I naturally bled, so they usually made me sleep on the couch.” You admit, looking down at the floor to avoid looking at Joel’s face. He stays silent longer than usual and you look up to see him being shocked.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You giggle.

“That’s fucking absurd? No one should treat you like that, ever. They’re lucky I don’t know who they are.” He says walking to you and pressing his forehead against yours, pinning you down on the couch. A warm, fuzzy feeling enters your heart and you let your left hand trail up to his cheek. Moonlight hits the floor, brightening the living room.

“It’s not that serious Joel.” You say, playfully rolling your eyes.

“It’s that serious to me, you’re…you’re human. It’s something that happens naturally, if they don’t like that then you should’ve left them.”

Your gaze at him starts to turn blurry as tears show up in your eyes, you kiss him and he unexpectedly picks you up bridal-style. You squeal out his name and he tells you to ‘shush up’. He gently places you down on the bed.

“Get yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a minute.” The covers of the bed get on top of you and Joel leaves the room.

A few minutes passed, where is this man? you thought, and he walks in the moment you stop thinking.

“U-Uh..H-Here..” you grab a mug out of his hands and embrace the warmth of it.

“What is it?”

“Tea…it’s from a uh..tip that Tess told me that would help with cramps..” Red tints his face, but luckily from the darkness it’s not visible.

“Aww Joel, you didn’t have to do that!” You say as he steps in bed, you take a few sips from the tea and place it down on the table next to the bed. Joel slips more under the bed and fully gets comfortable, and you position to be the big spoon. You arm wraps around his back and you feel Joel kissing your shoulder.

“I love you, don’t let anybody tell you different.”

“Joel…

I love you too.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey! How are you?

May I request how the batboys would react to reader losing their job unfairly? I just lost my job for no reason after only working there for 2 weeks. I could really use some comfort rn 😭😭

Sweetheart, I know your pain in loosing a job unfairly, I’ve been there before and funnily enough they’re suffering to this day with ppl wanting to leave and or leaving. Karma is truly a bitch. I’m sending all the virtual hugs I can.

Jason

Livid isn’t even close in describing how he felt upon hearing the news but it was the closest word for how he was feeling right now. The fact that you had been let go and unfairly too after a short period of time was enough to make his blood boil.

No explanation just ‘yeah we’re letting you go for no real reason cuz we’re tight fisted cunts who can’t be bothered with bettering ourselves for our staff, and would much rather let them go without prior warning because we’re just that shitty of an employment.’

In Jason’s opinion you were the only one who actually knew how to do to do your job and will remind you of this constantly because it was the truth. You worked your ass off at that place and this was the thanks you get? Fuck that!

Jason was more then ready to let the piece of shit who made the call to drop you have a piece of his mind but you had to calm him down and tell him it wasn’t worth the anger and frustration. However to Jason it was more than worth the anger and frustration, his sweetheart lost their job because of some fucking corporate lapdog!

‘They fucked up babe, big time. They lost one of their best and I hope they fucking go bankrupt and loose everything they’re worth because of it.’ Jason would tell you as he presses kisses against your head as you played with his fingers before intertwining them with yours.

‘I hope so too.’ You muttered against his chest and Jason could only tighten his hold on you as he continued to shower you in praise, kisses and utter adoration in hopes of ridding the god awful taste that place left in your mouth and your self esteem. Jason’s as about to let you drown because of them, he’d gladly keep you afloat however he can because you deserve it and so much more than they ever gave you in two weeks.

Dick

‘They’ve lost out on the best thing going sweetheart, they’ll come to regret it sooner or later but you’ll be in a better position when they do.’ He’d whisper reassuringly as he held you close to his chest, his heart breaking when hearing your sobs.

He hated how affected you were by their decision and he hated how powerless he was to stop you from getting hurt by stupid employments like this one. They obviously didn’t see what he saw in you and that was their loss and his gain. You were dedicated, loyal, hardworking but apparently that wasn’t enough for them and so without much thought they dropped you.

So Dick, with the help of Hayley, would try his best to provide you with happier times to drown out the pain that came with reminiscing the shittier times.

They would try their hardest to make you cry tears of joy rather then sadness from their goofiness alone as both Dick and Hayley would rather see you happy then sulk over the decisions of some stupid employment. They -the employment- fucked up with you and Dick wasn’t about to let it be your problem to deal with alone because it wasn’t your problem to deal with in the first place. It was theirs.

So you spent the rest of your days with Dick trying his best in making you happy and smile more then you’ve ever have, that place was poison for you and he’ll try and be your antidote.

Tim would absolutely do everything in his power to ruin your old workplaces reputation out of sheer pettiness, whether it be digging up some dark/ shady stuff that they’ve tried sweeping under the rug or spreading their tendencies to mistreat their staff on a daily basis, Tim would single-handedly destroy their reputation by leaving it in complete shambles.

He was smart enough to do so and could do so if you were to ever say the word, he was more then ready with documents filled with evidence to back up his claims, all he needed was you to give him the go ahead.

Tim could be petty but his petty was unlike anyone else’s and could cause mass damage to corporate assholes, especially those who thought it was completely justifiable to release someone after two weeks of working there.

Give him 5 minutes and the workplace will have collapsed from the information he had released to the general public. That’ll teach them a lesson for certain for messing with you.

However you didn’t want him to get into any trouble because of you and would much rather cuddle with him in bed as you watched a movie on his laptop in your pj’s as you both shared some ice cream. That’s all you needed and Tim was more than willing to comply as he told you how stupid of a decision it was of them to let you go, they were only shooting themselves in the foot and digging their grave simultaneously.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 5: The Answers We Wait For

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

I'd go back in time and change it (but I can't)

(In which a writer's busy schedule somehow still had time for her favorite obsession)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 7.0K (it's very on-brand that my busiest week would produce the longest chapter)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Happy Monday lovelies :) How I managed to pull this off is between me and God at this point but here we are. I know it's been an interesting day to say the least, so I'm hoping me living up to my promises can be a silver lining. Quick note that I already fucked up the timeline at some point and Paige Olivia have actually been divorced for almost 3 years. I'll change that eventually. I actually didn't even try to really edit this chapter and in the choice between editing tomorrow and giving it to y'all today, I chose the latter. So please help a girl out and point out my typos/mistakes if you spot them and I will also eventually go back and edit. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forwards. Have a lovely week my loves <3

December 2027

Marriage and weddings had never been at the forefront of Paige’s mind. To be completely honest, for most of her life, there wasn’t much occupying her brain other than the court under her feet and the basketball in her hands. But the couple of times she had let herself picture it, she’d always thought that she’d have a Fall wedding, probably in Minnesota, maybe even on a basketball court. An indoor winter wedding in Texas had never once crossed her mind. She’d imagined vibrant fun bouquets made of pink lilies and purple hydrangeas, not the elegant red and white roses arrangements that were currently being placed along a far too heavily decorated aisle. Instead of vintage wines and carefully constructed fancy cocktails, she’d thought it would be nice to have spiked shirley temples and maybe even blue and white jello shots. She had expected to have a quiet ceremony followed by a vivacious gathering of everyone she loved. It had never even occurred to her that her wedding would become a public spectacle with People's magazine in attendance.  She’d pictured a party, not an event. 

Most of all she’d dreamt of getting married to a girl with dark eyes that could see all of Paige’s flaws and a soft smile that promised she’d love Paige despite them all. 

But the thing about dreams is that they’re fleeting trains that travel through the tracks of your mind when you’re asleep, and when you wake up, reality is nothing but a devastating train crash. 

Paige sighs, forcing herself out of her own head, as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. She looks pretty. Brittany had found her a nice white wedding suit -fitted to perfection- matching it with dainty silver jewelry. Paige normally liked her outfits a little looser but Olivia loved it and Paige likes that Olivia loves it. Her hair is styled in a bun, with two straightened strands to highlight her face. She thinks she might have preferred to have them curled in the front but Olivia had sweetly insisted on them being straight because hers would be curly and they had to complement, not match. Paige doesn’t really understand the difference or the importance but she thinks if Olivia wants it like that then she's fine with it. She thinks the bold red lipstick heavily coating her mouth makes her look a little bit like a vampire out of a badly directed 90’s horror movie but Olivia had said it was necessary so that the lights and cameras didn’t wash her face out. 

Paige looks pretty. She just doesn’t really look like Paige. 

“What do you think Drewski?” she asks, twirling to face her stone-faced brother who’s sitting on the couch, with a bout of enthusiasm that rings hollow to her own ears, “do I look gorgeous or what?”

“You look weird,” Drews says stiffly and Paige sighs. 

“Dr-” Paige is cut off by her younger brother sauntering over. A confused expression spreads over her features as Drew takes her hand and places it on his forehead, “uh- what are you doing?”

“Paigey, doesn't my forehead feel hot? I feel so sick,” the little boy whines, letting out a series of overzealous dramatized coughs. 

“Your forehead feels fine,” Paige says, slowly removing her hand.

“Well of course you’d think that. You’re not a doctor who knows how to feel foreheads correctly. I think we need to go to the hospital to see a real doctor. Like right now,” Drew pulls at Paige’s hand as she begins to catch onto what he’s trying to make happen. 

“You’re fine Drew.”

“I’m NOT. I’m very, very, very sick. So we have to leave right now. I could be contagious. I could be a danger to all these people,” Drew’s animated hands start to fly everywhere, “you can’t get married when your little brother’s sick. It’s- it’s just wrong. Bad juju or something like that. Everybody will understand that you just had to call off the wedding. For family reasons.”

“Drew-” Paige tries again, a hard pit settling in her stomach. 

“Are you worried cause you didn’t bring your car? That’s okay I’m sure Ice or KK will drive us but you can’t get married today Paigey. You just can’t,” his bottom lip trembles as the façade of illness slips and Paige feels her own eyes start to get glossy, “it’s not right Paigey. This is all wrong. She’s all wrong.”

“It’s not like that Drew. You just haven’t gotten to know-”

“I don’t want to know her,” Drew yells, “you don’t even know her. How can you get married to someone you’ve barely dated for a year. How can you do this to Az-”

“That’s enough,” Paige’s voice is eerily calm, as she digs her fingernails into her palm, “watch how you talk to me-”

“You’re being stup-”

“Drew Thomas I am not going to repeat myself again. Behave yourself. You’re not nearly old enough to be questioning what I do with my life,” it takes every inch of self-control Paige has to not let her voice shake. 

Her younger brother’s words feel like acid rain pelting against her already wounded skin. They slip into the gashes, mixing into her bloodstreams to create an army with the battalion of her own thoughts that have been hacking away at her heart for god knows how long. Paige wonders how long it’ll be before she finally bleeds out. 

“Please don’t get married Paigey,” Drew pleads, gripping his sister’s hand, “please.”

There’s nothing but silence as Paige opens and closes her mouth. And she doesn’t know if she’s trying to get words out or breathe air in; all she knows is that Drew might be squeezing her hands, but it feels like someone is strangling her lungs. 

She’s saved from having to say anything by a hesitant knock on the door. As Drew begrudgingly goes to open it, Paige scrambles to put herself back together. She closes her eyes, taking in three deep breaths before-

Drew gasps and Paige’s eyes fly open. With her back turned to the door, she can’t see who it is and something like hope starts to bloom in her chest, vines of maybe it’s her weaving through her ribcage. And as she turns around, they turn to dust; dust that floats up to her eyes and makes them tear up again as she stares dumbfoundedly at the two people standing somewhat awkwardly in her doorway. 

Paige had grown up an independent child. It wasn’t that her parents were neglectful or that they hadn’t loved her enough because they had. But at first it was the constant fighting and then it was the nurturing of a brand new family with new children and Paige had slipped through the cracks of oh she’s so mature we don’t need to worry about her. She had always had her parents as cheerleaders in the stands; no one was prouder of Paige than they were. But no one had bothered to force her to drink terrible tasting immunity boosters. No had patiently dyed her hair purple and pinky promised to like it even if it turned out terrible. No one had yelled at her for being in the gym till one a.m or woken her up at an ungodly hour to run drills. Not until she’d met a girl at 15 and that girl’s parents had decided that Paige was just as much theirs as their own daughter. 

And suddenly there were more people added to her cheering squad for her wins. But that’s not when Paige fell in love with Tim and Katie Fudd. It was when she lost and there was a nagging finger followed by a full breakdown of what she could do better next time and finally, a bear hug promising they’d help her do it. They’d been there every step and she’d sent the invitation, scared they wouldn’t show up, that they wouldn’t be there for this step, a step that inadvertently took her further away from them. But here they are anyway. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Katie says softly, her own eyes moist as she takes in the sight of the bride, “you look- you look absolutely stunning Paige.”

“You came,” Paige whispers, “I didn’t- I didn’t know if you would.”

“Of course we came,” Tim exclaims but his normal boisterous voice doesn’t feel nearly as enthusiastic, “always told you we’d be front and center at your wedding.”

Because I was supposed to marry your daughter; I was supposed to become your daughter, officially. 

“I’m really glad you guys came,” Paige says, letting Katie wrap her into a warm hug. She only gets a second to let herself enjoy it before Drew’s asking a question that makes her stiffen. 

“Where’s Azzi?” 

It’s like there’s lightning wrapped in that one syllable and it strikes right through Paige’s heart, setting every inch of it ablaze with the flames of a name that used to feel like cotton candy on her tongue; now it feels like lava. 

“She couldn’t make it,” Tim says slowly and Paige knows she shouldn’t be surprised, let along disappointed that her ex wasn’t coming but there’s a string that snaps anyways. 

“Why not?” Drew asks petulantly. 

“The baby’s due next month,” Tim tells him gently, “she can’t fly.”

The air feels suffocating at the mention of the baby. She’d been scrolling mindlessly through her tiktok feed when the announcement had popped up. She still has it memorized. 

Golden State Valkyries superstar shooting guard Azzi Fudd announces pregnancy on Instagram; she’ll miss the upcoming WNBA season. 

For a moment the world had stopped as Paige had hurriedly switched apps to instagram. And there it was. A smiling picture of Azzi holding a sonogram. Paige doesn’t know how long she’d stared at the picture but she remembers that it was set against a white background and she remembers that Azzi was wearing a green top. And as she’d typed out a congrats! that blended in seamlessly with all the other felicitating comments on the post, Paige had wondered if Azzi had felt it too. She’d wondered if, when Azzi had left a similar congratulations <3 post on Paige’s engagement announcement, she’d felt something unravel too. She’d wondered if Azzi had felt this hollowness of and i guess this is us signing off on never getting forever with each other. 

“So Azzi’s not going to stop this wedding?” Drew’s voice is dangerously even as he rounds on Paige, “and you’re really going through with this?”

“Drew please” Paige says tiredly as Katie runs a soothing hand down her back. 

“You’re stupid. And she’s stupid. You’re all so freaking stupid,” Drew bursts out, stomping past the adults in the doorway, his anger palpable in every single word. 

“I got it,” Tim says, wrapping a wrist around Paige’s hand as she moves to follow her younger brother. He squeezes gently, a half-hearted smile on his face, “it’s gonna be okay kid. It always is.”

Paige wishes she could just believe him, turn off the voices in her head and just be a kid who could take an adult’s word as gospel. But Paige is the adult now and believing no longer comes so naturally. 

“Hey,” Katie says after Tim runs after Drew, pulling Paige to sit with her on the couch, “I have a little wedding gift for you.

“Katie you don’t have-” Paige begins, watching as the older woman pulls out a velvet box from her bag, placing her phone on the table next to her. 

“Oh hush. I told you I’d give this to you,” Katie chides as she hands the velvet box. Paige’s eyes glisten as she opens it to find a familiar purple amethyst necklace. She’s flooded with the vivid image of her and Azzi on a random day in lockdown helping Katie organize her minimal jewelry. Paige had fallen in love with this necklace and Azzi had her eyes set on a pink topaz. It was fitting to say the least and Katie had promised them, with a glint in her eyes, that she’d give it to them as their something old on their wedding day. They’d been in between something and everything but Paige and Azzi had shared a shy smile over it anyways. 

“I can’t accept this,” Paige shakes her head trying to hand the box back but Katie dodges it expertly. 

“Yes you can. It’s basically a family heirloom and you, Paige Bueckers, are family,” Katie says firmly. 

“Katie-”

The older woman presses a kiss to Paige’s forehead as she starts to head out, “you’re always gonna be family Paige. Always.”

Katie’s words act like a band-aid but they’re not enough- maybe nothing will be enough- to fully heal the wound of today i was supposed to officially become a Fudd. 

A ringing noise interrupts Paige’s pity party and she starts half-heartedly digging around for her phone. She’s confused when she finds it because no one’s calling her and the room is still vibrating with noise. Crinkling her eyebrows, Paige’s eyes finally land on the couch side table, where Katie’s phone, clearly forgotten, is buzzing. 

Azzi’s CallerID flashes on the screen. 

Paige stares at the phone, rooted in place. She knows she shouldn’t pick it up, knows she should go return it. Still without a decision, Paige slowly starts to reach for it. And then it stops ringing and Paige goes still again, unsure if she’s relieved or disappointed. Swallowing, she takes another step. The phone rings again. A myriad of thoughts dance through Paige’s mind, opposing thoughts clashing with each other and making her head hurt. She lies to herself that it’s out of concern; that Azzi’s pregnant and this could be important. She lies to herself as she hits the green answer button that it’s not because she’s desperate to hear Azzi’s voice. 

“Mom?” Azzi sounds distraught when she picks up but Paige thinks it’s still her favorite sound any way, “Mom? I think I did something wrong. I can’t do this Mom. You’ve been gone a day and I’ve already fucked up. I don’t know what and I don’t know when but I think I fucked up. Maybe I ate something I wasn’t supposed to. Maybe it’s because I lay on my back instead of my side but Mom she hasn’t kicked all day and I can’t get Dr. Myers on the phone and I-”

“It’s a girl?” Paige breathes out. And suddenly she’s 22, sitting in a UConn apartment living room, grinning foolishly as Jana points out an AI picture that looks like the perfect mixture of her and Azzi. Azzi, who’s having a daughter. 

The woman in question is quiet and for a second Paige thinks that Azzi might hang up. 

“It’s a girl Paige,” Azzi says finally. 

“Are you- are you okay?” Paige asks slowly, trying not to dwell on how much she’s missed the way Azzi says her name. It’s been Bueckers every time they’ve seen each other this year and she’s never hated the sound of her last name more. 

“Yeah, I just-” Azzi sighs, her voice still a little frazzled, “I’m just being paranoid cause my Mom’s not here and my doctor’s not answering and the stupid baby hasn’t kicked all day,” she pauses, “sorry. I-I don’t mean to dump on you. Not today at least.”

“Az-”

“Where’s my Mom?”

“She- she’s probably outside. Think she left her phone here by accident. I can go find her but can I-” Paige hesitates, chewing at her lips in a way she knows Olivia hates, “can I help?”

“I don’t think-”

Paige shocks herself with her next words, “put the phone to your stomach.”

“What? Paige, did you hit your head in the last two seconds or something?”

“Just- just trust me,” she’s not really sure what she’s saying but now that she’s said, might as well commit to the bit, “I’mma talk sense into her. I saw it in a movie.”

“You saw it in a-” Azzi sighs and Paige can practically picture her rolling her eyes.  “I don’t know who’s more insane. You for coming up with the idea or me because I’mma follow through it,” there’s a bunch of static noise on the other side as Azzi adjusts herself, putting the phone on speaker and pressing it to her belly, “alright Dr. Bueckers work your magic.”

Paige is nervous as she speaks, “hey there little bean. I’m your-” she stops because what is she, “I’m your Paige,” she decides softly, “and I think- I think you should stop stressing your Mama out. She’s a bit of an overthinker so if you could just help her out, I think she’d really appreciate it. Because if- if you don’t she isn’t gonna be able to sleep tonight and you don’t know this yet but when your Mama doesn’t get sleep, she’s kind of a bi-”

“Paige,” Azzi hisses.

“Big baby,” Paige corrects, “she’s a big baby. And then she cries and it’s not a pretty sight-”

“Hey!”

“Sshhh Azzi I’m working my magic,” Paige scolds, “where was I? Oh yeah. She cries and it’s not a pretty sight because,’ her voice softens, “seeing your Mama cry is the worst thing in the world. I hate it and I know- I know you’re gonna hate it too because when you finally come out little bean, the first thing you’re gonna see is your Mama’s smile. And you’re gonna think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Just like I do,” a sob escapes on the other end of the line and Paige feels tears start to cascade down her own cheeks, “come on little bean, give us a little kick. Make your Mama smile.”

Time ticks by slowly and Paige closes her eyes, thinking maybe her desperate attempt to keep Azzi on the line had failed miserably. And then Azzi gasps, “she kicked. Oh my god Paige she kicked.”

Paige’s grin stretches her whole face and for a second it almost feels like she’s right there with Azzi, that instead of her ear being pressed to a phone, it’s pressed to Azzi’s belly. For a second she almost feels like she can feel the baby kicking. And then she opens her eyes. 

“Did it make you smile?” 

“Yeah, yeah it did,” Azzi admits and Paige can hear the relief in her voice. 

“I’m glad- I’m glad you have something that makes you smile.”

“Do you?” Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “do you have someone that makes you smile?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” and it’s not a complete lie. Olivia does make Paige smile. And maybe it’s not quite as big or bright or real but at least Olivia’s here to try. 

“Good. I-I’m also really glad you have that.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am Paige,” Azzi says quietly, “I want you to smile. I just- I just want you to be happy. Are you happy Paige?”

“I’m getting married today,” Paige says in lieu of an answer and she can hear Azzi’s breath hitch. 

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. It’s a yes or no question,” Azzi presses.

“Then you answer it Azzi,” Paige bites out, “are you happy?”

“I”m-,” the younger girl lets out a sigh, “I’m content.”

Her answer makes Paige’s skin itch with irritation and she can’t stop it from seeping into her next question, “so you have no regrets then?”

“I didn’t say that,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s voice. 

“Do you or do you not regret saying no to marrying me Azzi?” Paige asks, unable to hold it in any longer. 

“Paige-”

“What? You gonna say it’s not that simple? It’s a yes or no question Azzi,” Paige mocks. 

“That’s not it-”

“Then what is?”

“You’re getting married Paige,” Azzi yells, “you’re getting married,” she repeats again, softer this time, “to someone else. And so it doesn’t matter how I feel. It isn’t fair of you to ask and it wouldn’t- it wouldn’t be fair of me to answer. Not today. Maybe one day- one day it'll be the right time but not today.”

“And what if it’s never the right time?” 

“Then maybe it’s a question you were never meant to know the answer to.”

There’s something final in the quietness that follows, like they’re having a moment of silence at a funeral for what never even got to be. 

It’s Azzi who speaks first. 

“You’re gonna be a wonderful wife P.”

“You’re gonna be an amazing mom Az.”

They let it left unsaid that they were supposed to be wives to each other, that they were supposed to be moms together. 

***

March 2033 

Paige doesn’t know how long she stands outside, staring down the winding road that had taken Stephie and Azzi away from her. The neighborhood is slowly waking up and if the woman across the street opens her curtains and thinks it’s a little strange that her new neighbor is standing like a statue on her front porch, she only raises a slight eyebrow before going back to her day. It takes almost twenty minutes before her head finally convinces her heart that no matter how much she stands outside, they’re not coming back. 

There’s a part of her that can admit that maybe Azzi had a point and maybe she shouldn’t have asked her to stay over last night. But Paige has never been known for her common sense, especially not when it comes to Azzi. Because truth be told, asking Azzi to stay the night was perhaps the least ridiculous of the thoughts that had invaded her mind last night. It was easy- too easy- to fall right back into whatever with Azzi. She’d done a good job pretending that the nightly facetime calls had been for Stephie’s benefit but the truth is that they had become just as much a necessity for Paige. She’d fallen asleep with a smile on her face every night and the temptation to have that in person last night had been too hard to resist. And so she hadn’t. 

She makes it about three steps up the stairs, when the fort still set up in the living room catches her eye. And that’s when the first tear falls, and then the second and then the third until she thinks if she tried to swim in them, she’d probably drown. Paige abandons the idea of going up to her room and crawls back into the tent made of blankets. And she must be going insane because she swears she can still smell the faint scent of a toddler and Azzi’s lavender perfume on the pillow she cradles to her chest. It’s ridiculous to be so attached already. She knows that. Stephie isn’t hers but it feels like the little girl has crept underneath her skin, burrowing herself in a part of Paige’s heart that the blond didn’t even know was there. And Azzi- well no matter how long it’s been, no matter how much resentment Paige has held, the truth is that there’s a little patch of Paige’s soul  that will always belong to the younger woman. 

Paige barely registers herself falling asleep until there’s abrupt knocking on her door and she realizes she’s been cocooned in the fort for almost three hours. She hesitantly lets go of the pillow, groggily walking towards the door. It’s useless to pretend that she isn’t hoping it’s Azzi and Stephie on the other side, isn’t hoping that Azzi had realized her mistake, isn’t hoping to scoop both of them into her arms and fill the hollowness that’s been thrumming against her ribcage. God Paige has barely survived a month -a day if she’s completely honest- she doesn’t know how she’s going to survive this whole season. 

She crosses her fingers behind her back as she opens the door. 

“Hey,” Katie’s smiling face looks back at her, holding up a tray of coffee and a bag of something, “figured you haven’t eaten breakfast yet?”

Paige blinks stupidly as Katie lets herself in, moving through Paige’s house with ease and immediately locating the kitchen. She hands Paige a cup of coffee before ransacking through the bag and pulling out a glazed donut, “eat. I know you haven’t.”

“Does Azzi know you’re here?” Paige asks slowly before taking a bite out of her donut. 

Katie gives her pointed look, “who do you think gave me your address?”

“Is she- is she okay?” 

“You two are something you know,” Katie shakes her head, “you’re asking me if she’s okay and she sent me over here to make sure that you were okay.”

Paige feels her heart swell with after all this time, “she sent you?”

“I have breakfast with Azzi and Stephie every Sunday morning. Now imagine my surprise when I get there today and my oh so sweet and wonderful granddaughter isn’t talking to her mother. And so I forced the story out of Azzi and I barely understood a word she was saying through her tears-”

“She was crying?” Paige feels her lungs constrict. 

Katie shoots her an unimpressed look, “can I finish the story?”

“I don’t like this story. It has Azzi crying.”

“Yeah well the two of you seem to enjoy doing that to each other,” Katie cocks an unamused eyebrow and Paige flinches at the truth of it, “anyways I didn’t understand much of it but she was clear by the end. Seemed to think you needed someone, needed me and so here I am Paige.”

“Why is your daughter like this?” Paige demands, “how is she gonna make me cry and then send somebody else to wipe my tears.”

“Well I can leave-”

“Why couldn’t she just have stayed?” the blonde questions, “why does she always have to overthink things and make it more complicated? Why can’t she just listen to her heart once in her fucking life? Why can’t she just let herself live? Why is it always no with her and never just yes?”

Katie gives Paige a sad smile, reaching for her hand, “that’s why.”

“Please don’t speak in riddles. It’s 10 a.m and I’m sad,” Paige whines. She might be in her early thirties but there’s something about Katie Fudd that makes Paige feel like it’s okay to be a bit of a child.

“Why is it always no with her and never yes?” Katie repeats, “c’mon Paige you know that’s not about last night.”

“It is,” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“It’s not,” Katie says, gently squeezing Paige’s hand, “it’s about her saying no 8 years ago.”

“I’m ov-” Paige stops, withering under Katie’s glare, “okay maybe it’s a little bit about her saying no 8 years ago. But I’m allowed to still be upset about it. She broke my heart. I wanted forever and she walked away. I’m allowed to be mad about that.”

“Of course you’re allowed to be mad Paige but that’s exactly why Azzi had to go this morning. And it’s exactly why you shouldn’t have asked her to stay last night. You guys can’t just pretend none of it happened because it did. You’re still hurt Paige and ignoring that is gonna get you guys nowhere. Especially with Stephie involved.”

“So what are you saying? You’re saying me and Azzi should just be teammates? You’re saying I should just never see Stephie again,” even the thought of it makes Paige feel like she is laying down on a bed of thorns. 

“You’re so goddamn dramatic Bueckers,” Katie rolls her eyes, “I’m not saying any of that. I’m saying maybe you just need to take it slower, with both of them, instead of having a goddamn sleepover the literal first night you’re in the same city. Besides,” Katie gives her a knowing smirk, “my granddaughter is obsessed with her Miss Buecks. Pretty sure she’d find a way to see you again no matter what.”

“Good,” Paige lets out her first smile of the day, “because I’d find a way to see her again too. She just- she’s kinda great isn’t she? Azzi did a good job with that one. She’s- she’s perfect,” she looks at Katie who’s regarding Paige with a thoughtful expression, “what? Do I have donut glaze on my face?”

“No, no it just- I’ve seen that expression before.”

“What expression?”

“The one you just had on your face while talking about Stephie,” Katie laughs to herself, “it’s the same one Tim had when he first met Azzi.”

***

“Oh my god. It’s Paige Bueckers. Can I have your autograph?” Steph Curry winks at Paige as she walks into his office. The Golden State legend had started an after-school basketball camp for kids in the Bay Area and as soon as he’d heard the news of Paige coming over to the Valkyries, he’d messaged her if she’d be interested in helping him out in the off-season. Paige had been more than willing to be a part of it, always invested in giving back to her community. If she’d been excited by the idea before though, today, after the worst sleep of her night as she tossed and turned to the hopeless depression of not having spoken to Stephie and Azzi for far too long, Paige really needed this distraction. 

“Don’t think you can afford my autograph,” Paige smirks lazily as she basically droops into the seat opposite him. 

Steph laughs goodnaturedly, “welcome to the Bay Area kid.”

“I’m a little old to be called a kid don’t you think? I’m nearly 25,” Paige grins, wiggling her eyebrows.. 

Steph shakes his head, “nah you’re always gonna be a kid to me. You and Azzi both,” he chuckles to himself, “even though Azzi’s got her own kid now. Have you met her?”

Well that distraction lasted 30 seconds, Paige thinks to herself as she forces a smile onto her face, “yeah. I’ve seen her around.”

“She’s cute as hell right? And she knows it. Little miss bossy pants has everyone wrapped around her fingers. Kinda reminds me of Riley,” there’s a goofy expression as Steph thinks of his daughter and Paige wonders if the same one is reflected on her face as she thinks about Stephie, “and she’s a natural at basketball. Only five and her shot’s already pretty good. You’ll see it today when she comes to camp. And she’s pretty good at defense-”

“I’m sorry what?” Paige blinks rapidly. 

“I know. What defense can a 5 year old play but it’s just the way she moves you know?” Steph tries to explain and Paige shakes her head. 

“Not that. Stephie- Stephie’s coming to camp?”

Steph grins large and proud, “of course she is. She was the first camper I signed.”

“Right,” Paige nods, giving the man in front of her a tight smile, “can you- can you excuse me for one second.”

As soon as Paige is outside of Steph’s earshot, she’s calling Katie; Katie who had sat at her kitchen counter yesterday and listened with a smile as Paige told her all about Steph’s camp. Katie who hadn’t said one word about Stephie being a part of said camp. Katie who was maybe grinning just a little too hard at the idea. 

“Did you know Stephie goes to Curry Camp?” Paige asks as soon as the line connects. 

“Hi Katie. Hi Paige. How was your day? Oh mine was good Paige, thanks for asking, how was yours?” Katie replies sarcastically. 

“Katie,” Paige groans. 

“Did I know that my granddaughter goes to her godfather’s special camp for the sport that her mother plays and she’s obsessed with?” Katie says slowly and Paige can tell she’s holding back a laugh, “nope, didn’t have a clue. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“What happened to telling me to take things slow?” Paige hisses. 

“Well if I left the two of you two to your own devices y’all wouldn’t go slow, you wouldn’t even move at all,” Katie defends. 

“So you’re meddling?”

“I am not,” Katie protests, “you were always gonna help with the camp and Stephie’s already been going to the camp. I just didn’t let you stress out about it. Really you should be thanking me.”

“Thank you Katie,” Paige bites out mockingly. 

“You’re so very welcome Paige,” Katie sing-songs, “by the way, come over for dinner soon okay sweetheart. Love you honey. See you later darling.”

She hangs up before Paige can say anything and the blonde saunters back into Steph’s office, trying to corral her facial expression into something more neutral. 

“All good?” Steph asks. 

“Just peachy,” Paige hums in response, “we gonna head over to the court soon? It’s almost 4.”

Steph nods, “yeah they’ll be done setting up for us. Azzi usually brings Stephie to say hi to me right before cause no favoritism in front of the other kids you know? But maybe she’s running la- oh no wait there they are!”

Paige freezes, heartbeat erratic, as Steph walks to the door in anticipation. 

“UNCLE TWIN,” Stephie screams and something in Paige’s heart starts to fix itself at the sound of the younger girl’s voice. She’s scared to turn around, unsure if she’s more scared to realize it’s a dream or find out that it’s reality. 

“TWIN NIECE,” Steph yells back with equal vigor and Paige can hear Azzi’s laugh now too, each giggle acting like a needle, stitching up the parts of Paige that had felt broken since yesterday morning. She turns around deliberately slowly. Stephie is cradled in Steph’s arms and Azzi’s watching them with a fond smile. And it’s ridiculous to be jealous of a happily married man who’s practically Azzi’s brother if not her uncle, but the sense of that should be me, weighs heavily on Paige’s lungs anyways. 

It’s Azzi who sees her first, smile slowly fading as dark brown eyes clash with light blue ones. 

“Paige,” she whispers softly and there’s a multitude of undecipherable emotions wrapped in that one syllable and Paige thinks she could spend forever just trying to uncover them. 

Stephie’s ear perks up at the mention of Paige’s name as her own little eyes finally land on the blonde, shuffling her feet nervously in the corner. Her bottom lip trembles, eyes watering as she forces herself down from Steph’s lap, racing to Paige. It’s instinct the way Paige falls to her knees, ready to catch the bundle of limps that practically falls into her waiting arms. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers, “I missed you so much.”

Paige’s own eyes water as she buries her face in Stephie’s hair, “me too sweetheart. I missed you so, so, so much.”

In front of them, Steph looks beyond confused as to what's happening and Azzi’s determinedly looking away, even if there’s a lone tear waterfalling down her left cheek. 

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Stephie confesses, voice choked up as she tightens her grip on Paige’s neck, “and I begged and I begged Mama to let me call you but she said you were busy. And then I yelled at Mama and it made Mama cry too and I hate making Mama cry.”

“I know. I know sweetheart,” Paige soothes softly, running her hands down Stephie’s back as the little girl continues to babble. They stay like that for a long time and Paige thinks if she could ask the world for one thing that doesn’t belong to her, she’d ask for Stephie. 

Finally Steph coughs, looking apprehensively between the three girls in the room, “so um- I take it you’ve more than just seen Stephie around then Paige?”

Paige lets out a watery laugh, finally letting Stephie go and turning around but still keeping a hand on Stephie’s shoulder, “yeah I guess that’s true.”

“What are you doing here Miss Buecks,” Stephie asks, looking up at Paige. 

“I’m uh- well Mr. Steph-”

“Uncle Twin,” Stephie corrects immediately and Paige can’t help but grin at the nickname. 

“Right. Uncle Twin asked me to be a coach at his camp and I agreed,” Paige explains, trying to catch Azzi’s eyes but the shooting guard seems determined to focus on a picture of Steph and Ayesha on the wall instead. 

“You’re gonna be my coach,” Stephie squeals, turning around to hug Paige’s knees, “this is the best news of my life.”

Paige feels her heart soar into a sky of you’re the best new of my life Stephie as she bends down to kiss Stephie forehead, “let’s see if you say that when I make you run laps after you miss a shot.”

“You wouldn’t?” Stephie says, looking horrified at the idea. 

“I totally would,” Paige teases. 

Stephie is quiet for a second before a proud smirk blooms on her lips, “that’s okay ‘cause I don’t miss. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter. Right Mama?”

“Right baby,” Azzi says, finally letting herself meet Paige’s gaze. 

“Well Miss-I-Don’t-Miss, how about you walk over to the court and show us how you don’t miss,” Steph teases. 

Stephie waddles out of Paige’s grip and holds her arms up at Steph, a saccharine smile on her face,“I can’t be tired if I don’t wanna miss Uncle Twin, so can you please carry me over there?”

Steph rolls his eyes but it doesn’t stop him from hoisting Stephie onto his shoulders, “alright your highness, let’s go.”

Stephie’s giggles echoe down the hall as Steph runs towards the courts and Paige can’t help the fond laugh that escapes her. 

“She gets that from you, you know,” Paige says softly to Azzi. 

“Gets what?”

“Being a princess who gets everything she wants.”

“Not everything,” Azzi says wistfully, “not everything I want.”

She moves to start following but Paige wraps a hand around her wrist, “I didn’t know Stephie was a part of Curry Camp. I swear I- I didn’t do this on purpose.”

Azzi sighs, “I know. I know you wouldn’t Paige.”

“And I- I wanted to thank you for sending your Mom yesterday. I really- I really did need it even if I didn’t know it,” Paige’s thumb subconsciously rubs against Azzi’s skin, “but you- you always seem to know what I need.”

Azzi rips her hand out from Paige's grip, “you’re doing it again.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes you are. You keep saying things like that- things you shouldn’t say- things I can’t just listen to and be okay,” Azzi brushes her hand against her face, “I know the way I left yesterday was wrong and maybe I was projecting,” she admits in a whisper, “but you just- you make me feel too fucking much. And it's too quick and it’s scares me.”

“Scares you?” Paige scoffs, “I’m not the one who broke your heart Azzi.”

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’ve lived with that guilt for the last 8 years? Jesus fucking christ Paige. I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of me,” tears stream down Azzi’s face as she paces the room, “I have never heard Stephie cry so fucking much in my life Paige. And you know who did that to her? Me, I did that. Apparently I’m really fucking good at making people cry but I don’t want to. I don’t want to break her heart, I don’t want to break your heart and I don’t want to break my own heart. Not again.”

“Azzi-”

“And so I’m stopping it before it happens. Before I ruin it again.”

Azzi tries to leave again but Paige is faster, wrapping her arms around the younger woman’s waist and pulling her flush against her chest so she can’t escape. It’s a terrible idea because now all of her senses are consumed by Azzi as they both become acutely aware of how close they are now. 

“Paige,” Azzi whispers weakly, one hand pressed right against Paige’s heart, “let me go.”

“I think today’s the right time,” Paige says softly, hands grazing Azzi’s waist, “I asked you a question once and you said one day, when the time was right, you’d give me an answer. It’s the right time.”

“I don’t think so-”

“Azzi please,” Paige begs, “do you regret saying no?”

“Paige let me go,” Azzi wriggles against her grip but it only makes Paige tighten her hold. 

“It’s a simple yes or no question.’

“Stephie’s probably wondering where we are-”

“Then answer the damn question and we can go to her-”

“Paige please.”

“Answer the fucking question Azzi.”

“What do you want me to say?” Azzi bursts out finally, “you want me to say that I’ve never regretted anything more in my life? You want me to say the minute I said no, I wanted to rip out my tongue? You want me to say that I almost called you several times in the last decade to tell you how stupid I was? You want me to say that I flew to Dallas once to tell you that I fucked up but then I saw you with Olivia and decided you deserved better than me-”

“What?”  Paige feels the air being snatched from her lungs. 

“The answer to your stupid fucking question,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “is yes. Yes I regret saying no to you Paige. But it doesn’t matter. Because I said no and you found someone else who’d say yes and now it’s too late.”

And Paige thinks that Katie was probably right, that she should probably take things slow. But when it comes to Azzi Fudd, Paige Bueckers has never been one to do what she should. 

“It’s never too late for us,” Paige whispers before crashing her lips against the woman, who’s always been the reason for her biggest, brightest, most real smile.

[fettuccin-e]

Right Here, Right Now

Kinktober Day 2: Public

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl omg please), public sex, fingering, its just desperate sex with Mig in an alleyway lol (w/c: 1.3K)

A/N: I have actually had this as a WIP for a long, long time but I modified it to fit this prompt! Glad to finally get some use out of it. Miguel can and will always have me in a chokehold I love him so so much. (I am following prompts from this list by flightlessangelwings!)

You’ve both been apart for too long, far too fucking long. Always away on missions without each other, falling asleep without each other and leaving again with only a quick kiss goodbye, nothing more.

It’s got Miguel a little stir crazy, desperate, and you’re just the same way. So, on the odd mission where you’re actually together, you don’t protest when he crowds you against a brick wall in some dark, dank alleyway, and kisses the god damn life out of you. It’s intoxicating, mind-melting, and fuck, it’s not enough for either of you. 

Miguel growls against your mouth, reaching a clawed hand to the seam of your suit, and rips it, exposing the wetness of your aching pussy to the cool night air. He cups you without any finesse, just pure need, and you gasp wetly into his kiss.

“Miguel,” you whine, but you can’t stop your hips from humping forward into his hand, “we can’t— we can’t, baby, they’re going to start looking for us, oh fuck, they’re gonna see—“

“Shh,” he coos, “just real quick, real quick, sweetheart.” His chest heaves, so broad and thick and clouding your vision as he rubs quick circles into your achy clit with a calloused finger.

“Just- just let me feel you, just for a second, please, baby, mi amor, por favor, tan perfecta, te necesito,” he mumbles, lost in it, and you find yourself nodding along with his words.

He whines at your permission, and you barely manage to utter a “just for a second, just a second, Miguel,” before his suit dissipates around the bulge of this thick cock, and he’s sinking into you, pressing so fucking deep he forces the air from your lungs.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes into the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering forward as he stretches your pussy around him. “There’s my perfect girl, my beautiful girl, fuck, fuck, missed this pussy so bad, baby.”

It’s hard to breathe like this, Miguel pressing you into the brick wall, curling around you until all you know is him. All you know is the way his scent invades your lungs, the way his fangs graze your throat just barely. The way he pulls his hips back, just a little bit, before shoving forward again, bullying his thick cock so fucking deep inside your little cunt. You can’t get out the words, the sensations all too much for you to bear. There hasn’t been any prep, anything to lead up to you taking Miguel like you usually do. 

No, there's only the adrenaline coursing through your bodies, the desperation stemming from being apart for far too long, and the ache of him settling deep, deep inside you. It’s where you both belong.

So you stutter out aborted little whines of “Mig- Miguel,” and “so-so big,” between overwhelmed sobs into his strong body as he holds you, impaling you on him again and again. He’s mumbling, incessant and slurred as he fucks you into the brick, something about how hot you are, how wet and tight and about how he can’t wait to get you home, how he’s going to fuck you for days. It’s all so hard to understand, you’re not even sure that Miguel knows what he’s saying, if he even wants you to hear all of the deep, dark thoughts spilling from his overwhelmed mouth.

Your body burns, the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbing at your clit so perfect, so right. It’s all slick and wet and you’re sure that you’re dripping down his fat cock as it slides in and out of you, dripping down his balls. You can at least thank God that his suit isn’t made out of actual fabric; that he won’t have to return to HQ with your wetness staining his front. Not that he’d really mind.

It’s intoxicating, the way he fills you, surrounds you. So much so that you don’t realize how much time has passed until you hear Jessica’s voice from both of your watches, cutting through your whines and Miguel’s growls and the lewd sounds of your bodies meeting. “O’Hara, what’s your position?”

“Fuck,” he snarls, driving into you just a little faster, a little harder, “fuck, not yet, not yet.” He doesn’t respond to Jess, leaning down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss that mostly contains teeth and spit.

“Mig-Miguel, they’re going to be looking, c’mon, baby, we’ve got to g-” you hiccup into his mouth, but your hips move of their own accord, meeting him thrust for thrust as he drives desperately into you.

“Not. Yet.” He growls, punctuating his words with his hips. “Just a little longer, little- little longer, jus’ let me-” he fucks himself into you, so furious and devastating that tears finally manage to spill from your eyes.

“Spiderman 2099, what is your position?” Jessica asks again, and you can hear Pavitr ask you the same thing from your watch, both oblivious to the fact that their leader, your leader, is fucking you into the wall in some dirty back alley in a universe that neither of you know, that neither of you care to know. All you know is Miguel’s body against yours, exchanging desperate breaths as he thrusts deep into your sticky pussy, curling your hands into his hair as he digs his fingers into your waist, his claws nearly tearing the fabric of your suit.

“Miguel,” you moan, “we have to go, please we have to go, they’re looking for us, they’re gonna see-”

“No,” Miguel whines, and you want to fall to your knees with how absolutely devastated he sounds, “can’t- you can’t go, ‘s too soon, baby, let me have you, let me have you,” he’s slurring around his fangs, his eyes burning red at the edges as his eyes meet yours. He grabs at the watch on your wrist, cutting it off with a deft claw, and you choke on your spit as he crushes it easily in his palm. 

“Miguel-” you start, but he cups a thick hand over your mouth, and you can only watch as he raises his watch to his face and says, far more collected than he’s been this entire night, “Anomaly neutralized, returning to HQ. Meet tomorrow for a debrief.”

“Not tonight?” Pav chirps, and Miguel ruts into you hard, his gaze burning into yours.

“Tomorrow.” He growls, before he shuts his watch off completely, tucking his face into the crook of your neck again, sucking dark marks into your skin. His hands find your hips once again, pulling you onto his cock over and over and over as tears slide down your cheeks, choked little moans ripping out of your throat.

“That’s right, beautiful, squeeze this cock, make a mess for me. Can’t wait to get you home, going to fuck you all fucking night, needed this sweet pussy so fucking bad, bebita, por favor, ah-” he groans into your skin, and his cock sinks into you so perfect, stretching you exactly how you’ve needed it for so long, and fuck, your orgasm nearly makes you black out. You thrash against the wall, crying out so loud that Miguel has no choice but to seal his mouth over yours in a sticky kiss, swallowing your noises. 

“Fuck, that’s right, make a mess for me, eres tan perfecta, mi amor, mi vida, fuck,” he fucks into you, once, two more times, before he’s following you over that peak, his hips twitching as he fills you up.

You both can only rock against each other for a minute, riding the aftershocks of bliss. How had you gone without this for so long? How could you have deprived yourself of heaven?

“Let’s go home, Miguel,” you whisper, resting your forehead against his. He nods, switching his watch back on and opening a portal behind himself. He slips out of you, his suit reforming over himself. You, unfortunately don’t have the same luxury, the night air still cool against your used and achy core. 

“You’re making me a new suit, by the way,” you say, tilting your head up to smile at him. “And a new watch.”

He only chuckles, lifting you into his arms, turning to walk you both into your shared apartment in Nueva York, where you haven't been together in too damn long. “Anything you want.”

[feyhunter78]

Jealously, Jealously

Couldn’t find a fanart I felt fit so have a gif!

Nerd!Miguel Masterlist

You’re not jealous, you can’t be jealous, because Miguel isn’t yours. You’re friends, study buddies, lab partners, platonic, platonic, platonic, so why do you feel so shitty watching him and this random girl—Ava she said her name was—flirting?

Maybe it’s because she’s flipping her long silky black hair over her shoulder, batting her thick naturally dark lashes up at him, laughing at his jokes with a laugh that sounds like music, and Miguel’s eating it up.

You’ve never seen Miguel so confident, and it hurts. You’ve been friends with him for ages now, and he’s never been so forward, so clearly sure of himself when he’s with you. He’s talking, leaning down to hear her better, letting her touch his arm, his chest, even his fucking neck.

You stew in silence, arms crossed, watching them from your place behind the Sig Epp letters.

You were supposed to be getting lunch, walking, and talking with Miguel, only stopping to say hello to Brett, but then this Ava girl showed up and all of a sudden, she and Miguel have to speak privately.

“What’s got you all heated?” Brett asks, bumping his shoulder into yours, joining you against the low wall, behind the giant painted letters.

They’re what four-five feet tall, painted in the Sig Epp colors, made of plywood and some other material you don’t really recognize, and don’t care to. They’re good to hide behind, and that’s what you’re doing.

“I’m not heated.” You tell him, rolling your eyes when Ava playfully squeezes Miguel’s bicep, her laugh ringing out through the courtyard.

“Tsst, ouch.” Brett says, jerking away from you dramatically, acting as if touching your shoulder burned him.

“You’re not funny.” You deadpan, averting your eyes from Miguel and onto Brett.

“I’m a little funny.” He says, “remember when I got Dr. Blevins to do that TikTok trend with me?”

“The one where you tried to guess which of the other professors in the department he hated?” You snort, turning to face him, leaning against the sun-bleached bricks.

It was pretty funny, Dr. Belvins wasn’t the nicest man on the planet, but who would’ve known he had such a hatred for Dr. Vervid? Though you shouldn’t be too surprised, there weren’t many people who liked the Organic Chemistry professor.

“See I’m funny.” Brett says, wriggling his eyebrows victoriously.

“You did one funny thing.”

He presses a hand to his heart. “You wound me y/n, truly, down to the deepest chasm of my very soul.”

“Alright, Shakespeare,” you laugh, “time to phone it in.”

Brett takes an exaggerated bow.

You roll your eyes but giggle. Brett is a goof, and while usually you find it all a bit ridiculous, it does the trick, the uncomfortable emotions you’re feeling lessen.

“No, but seriously, you seem upset, is everything alright?” Brett’s voice takes on a more serious tone, and he gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know we’re not close like you and Miguel, but I do consider you a friend, and if I can help, I’d like to.”

Are you crying? You think you might cry. “Shut up, why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m a nice guy, not like that, an actual nice guy, a nice person.”

You sigh and roll your neck, letting it hang to one side as you look at Brett. “I think I might be jealous?”

“Oh, of Miguel and Ava? Yeah, I see them hanging out sometimes, she’s hot.”

Gut punch.

“You’ve seen them hanging out?” You dig your nails into your palm to try and keep the emotion out of your voice. Thankfully it works.

“Sometimes, used to see them hanging out before you two got close, but it’s picked back up recently.” Brett says, casting a surprisingly subtle glance over at the dark-haired pair.

Double gut punch.

“Oh…cool.” You reach for your phone preparing to either hide in it or text Miguel and tell him you have to miss lunch, either way you’re pretty sure you’re going to start crying.

Brett snaps to attention and reaches out to put a hand on your shoulder. “Shit, y/n, I didn’t even—I’m sorry.”

“No, no, Miguel and I are just friends, I don’t care who he hangs out with, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Totally doesn’t matter that he defended you against Kron, that he said he wanted to have a daughter with you. That you almost kissed, that he’s coming with you to the semiformal, that you eat lunch together every day during the week, totally doesn’t matter.

“Oh well...I don’t think they’re dating or anything, Miguel isn’t like that, he wouldn’t…” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “He’s not the kind of guy to lead someone on.”

“I said we’re just friends. Bye Brett.” You snap, shoving your phone back in your pocket and readjusting your backpack as you speed walk in the opposite direction of Miguel. Hoping fervently that you can make it back to the Humanities Building, then to the parking lot, before he notices you’re gone.

Of course, you have no such luck, and you can hear Miguel calling out to you, then your phone lights up in your hand.

“Hey.” You say, keeping your voice calm.

“Y/N, where are you going, I thought we were getting lunch?” His voice is so sweet, so concerned, and you hate him for it.

“I forgot my next class was canceled, and I have a big essay coming up, I’m just going to go home and work on it.” You lie, digging your car keys out of your backpack.

“Oh…okay…” You can picture him, standing there all alone, looking down at his feet, clutching the strap of his backpack protectively, his voice thick with disappointment.

You hate yourself for feeling guilty, but then you remember he’s not alone, he has Ava.

“Just go eat lunch with Ava, you guys seemed pretty cozy, don’t let me interrupt.” You can’t stop the venom from dripping into your voice.

“Interrupt? Y/N, you wouldn’t be—no, I’m not—Ava is just—it’s not like that.” Clearly, the words are spilling past his lips faster than his brain can process them.

“I don’t care, go, have fun, do whatever you want.” It’s petty, and unreasonable, you know, but you’re hurt, and you want him to hurt too. You hang up and put your phone on do not disturb, slamming your car door shut and heading home as you burst into tears.

Directly connected parts are: Flowers On Your Doorstep and Semiformal Kisses and Cat Fights

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey

[star-girl69]

Little Bit

Georgia Amoore x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: georgia keeps coming back to you.

a/n: georgia said she liked this song and i coincidentally like this song too (actually lol) so here we are 🥰

Little Bit - Lykke Li

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, mentions of a slight injury, the usual swearing, reader and georgia are exes and ended on bad terms, the bad terms being that georgia never had enough time for r, no cheating here dw!!!! despite the rumors… sigh, girl idek if this would work, UMMM WE GET FREAKY, making out, mentions of sex… yeah…, lmk if i missed anything!!!

—-

“Hello? Who is it?”

It’s dark. It’s 10:54pm. You have to rub some of the sleep from your eyes.

Whoever is knocking at the door is panicked. You can hear it in the way they knock- they’re nervous, maybe. Something is wrong. They knock too fast, too hard. Not like they’re in a hurry, but more so like they wish the door wasn’t there in the first place.

“Can I come in?”

Fuck.

You know that voice, even if it’s through a door.

“Georgia,” you sigh, hand on the doorknob, not quite opening it yet. You can hear her let out a small sound that’s a cross between a begging plea and a scoff, then the shuffling of feet.

“Please, Y/N.”

You loved her for so long. You still love her. Maybe some part of you will always love her, and you’ll just have to grow around the mark she made.

You open the door just wide enough for the chain lock to be pulled taut, finally laying eyes on her- she looks like a shell of herself.

“Georgia?” You ask, your brows furrowing, eyes wide in shock.

“Y/N,” she says your voice so sweetly. “Can I please come in?”

You look around her, but she’s in the empty hallway of your apartment building. There’s no one there. You don’t know how she got here, you don’t know what happened- but you know she came here. She came to you.

“I just really need you right now,” she says, and your heart breaks at the sound of tears in her voice, and suddenly you can see them shining so brightly in her eyes like stars.

You probably shouldn’t let your ex in. Especially not when she’s in such a vulnerable state like this, and you’ve been thinking about her more often then you care to admit…

“What happened?” You finally ask, voice small. She stays silent. “Did it- a game? Did something happen at a game?”

Your eyes suddenly widen and you tug on the door, forgetting the chain is there- “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she says, wiping something from her eye. “I’m fine. Please, Y/N, I know… okay. I know, but I still need you.”

You stumble over the words.

“W-we’re not da-dating. We’re not dating.”

“I know,” she says, kind of sadly, kind of resigned. “I just need you.��

If she says that sentence to you one more time you might actually break down and love her again. Love her, really, fully. But you can’t do that. The only way you can love her is secretly, in a tender part of your heart she had carved out so lovingly, and eventually left with scars.

And maybe… maybe you can love her in the darkness of your apartment.

You probably shouldn’t do this. But you’ll deal with that guilt later.

“You can always come here,” you whisper, shutting the door softly, almost like she’s a wild, scared animal that will run away at any movement too loud or sudden. You unhook the lock. The chain falls, it hits against the door.

You tighten your hand on the doorknob, about to pull it open- but you don’t have too. The door suddenly slams open, Georgia bursting in through the door like water through a broken dam- because you swear that’s what this night feels like. That’s what every interaction you have with her feels like. A dam- your resolve- breaking, and her rushing in past the broken pieces, taping you up behind her.

She wraps her arms around your waist, just like she used to do, and puts her face into your neck, just like she used to do.

It takes a second for the world to come back into focus, for your body to process the feeling of her skin on yours again, suddenly your hearing comes back and you hear the sounds of soft sobs. Tears are falling down, wetting your skin- but you can’t be bothered.

“Georgia,” you whisper, finally wrapping your arms around her after a moment of shock. “What happened?”

She shakes her head, cries a little harder- and immediately tries to stop herself and choke it back.

“Hey, hey,” you whisper, softly placing your hand into her hair and playing with the thick locks there, like you always used to do. “It’s okay, b- Georgia. It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it. I can just hold you for a while?”

She nods, after a tense second.

“I can do that,” you continue, still whispering. She once told you that she liked your voice.

“Keep talking,” she whispers, her voice thick and scratchy.

“Okay,” you say, letting out a breath.

You feel like a lighthouse letting a ship know where the port is. You feel like Orpheus trying to lead Eurydice out of the underworld with just his voice, trying to lead Georgia back to herself from wherever dark place she is.

“I had McDonald’s for dinner,” you blurt out. “It was really good. It’s Friday, I wanted to treat myself. Um, I had a pretty hard week. Just school wise. I had, like, three tests this week. Studying was rough, but I survived. I was watching the Office before you knocked. It was that one episode where Micheal goes into the woods and tries to survive on his own- I don’t know, it was funny. But Dwight followed him out, and, um, yeah. It was funny. I miss you.”

Her tears have dried by now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

And it’s suddenly so right that you’re standing in front of your doorway, holding her in the faint glow of the TV.

“Don’t be. I’m glad you came here. Would rather you here than the streets,” you laugh, dryly.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, because you both know she’s not really sorry about coming here, but for some reason- neither of you have the heart to say it.

And you can’t tell her it’s okay. You can’t say it’s fine.

Softly, like she’s made of glass and you’ll break her, you press a kiss to her hairline.

“Come lay down with me?” You try to sound convincing, but it’s a question.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, and your stomach drops back down from where it had jumped to your throat in anticipation.

Your heartbeat increases at the thought of getting to sleep next to her again, knowing you’re about to sleep so good next to her, touching her skin. The TV continues to glow, continues to talk in low voices.

You softly let go of her, hand drifting to hold hers, watching as she wipes her tears.

She doesn’t need you to guide her to your bed. She knows where it is, but you take her there anyways with a hand that’s maybe a little too tight. But her grip is just as tight.

You know she’ll leave before you wake up.

She can’t face you in the light. And that’s fine, because you can’t really face her in the light either.

She squeezes your hand. You squeeze back.

It feels a little bit like you never broke up.

—-

Everything is a giant fucking blur.

It’s so dark in here, all of the lights are turned off, and it feels more like a rave of some sort instead of a random frat party. They have these stupid neon strobe lights going, making green and yellow flash obnoxiously over everything- making it kind of hard to see. Making it kind of hard to keep the contents of your stomach actually inside of your stomach.

You’re supposed to be with your friends, celebrating one of your friend’s friend breaking up with her boyfriend who was apparently cheating on her, and the entire time all you could think about was your breakup with Georgia.

And the weeks before you finally toughed up and broke up with her- the weeks where you never saw her, where she forgot about you.

You head towards the counter strewn with half-empty bottles of liquor and red solo cups. You grab one that’s hopefully unused, mixing yourself up some random concoction that will definitely taste like shit, but you hope that you can’t think about her anymore if you drink too much.

You weren’t stupid, despite what someone may think- watching you spill a perfectly good bottle of vodka over the side of the cup, you really don’t have good hand-eye coordination right now- you’re not stupid. You knew it was going to be hard dating a D-1 athlete, you knew you would come third, and you were completely fine with that.

You didn’t get mad when she came home from practice and simply kissed you on the cheek before collapsing into bed, you honestly found it kind of sweet- because she would drag you into bed with her, beg you to run your fingers through her hair, or massage her aching muscles.

You didn’t get mad when she choose to spend one of her rare free nights with her friends- you were a little jealous in the moment, but the pictures she posted on Instagram with the biggest smile on her face made up for her.

You did get mad when she just stopped coming over, when suddenly your bed was too far, not even the promise of your soothing hands could get her to come back to your place. You did get mad when she didn’t answer you for days. You did get mad when you told her you were feeling a little neglected, and then cancelled last minute on your date she had planned- not for any reason, except to go shoot hoops by herself in an empty gym, drilling herself.

You did get mad when you spent every night alone without her.

You put the bottle back down, lifting the red solo cup and taking a big sip.

No. You can’t do this. You can’t feel like this, not tonight.

You take another sip, and another, until suddenly you’re floating through the dance floor and sticky alcohol is splashed on your front, and you can’t really see straight, and everything is kinda hazy and beautiful.

You find your friends in the crowd, downing the rest of your drink before crushing it in your hand and throwing it somewhere, hands in the air as you dance loudly and unapologetically.

You dance until your feet scream at you, your heels digging into your feet, following your friends through the crowd until you lose them, you can’t see them anymore.

Tears well in your eyes. Your breathing picks up.

“Y/N!” A bright and cheery voice exclaims.

Oh, it’s Liz.

“Liz,” you say, your voice not sounding like your own.

Her face quickly turns to one of concern. She takes in your slightly rucked up outfit, your teary eyes, the sweat pouring down your face.

She puts her hand on your shoulder, leaning down close to your ear so you can hear her.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

Okay, you start to say- but where Liz is, Georgia will be.

“No-”

“Bloody hell, Y/N.”

Your eyes widen at the sight of your ex-girlfriend.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p, laughing a little. “Nope, nope, nope. I need my friends, not you.”

You can tell Georgia is a little hurt by that, but she doesn’t back down. Liz stands kind of awkwardly to the side of you, but you keep yourself pressed against her and as far away from Georgia as you can.

You love her, you’re drunk, and she’s looking really kissable right now.

“Well, I don’t see your friends,” she shoots right back. “Do you?”

Her tone is a little condescending.

“Oh, shut up,” you say in disgust, taking a step forward- in your head, you’re gonna knock into her shoulder and strut past her. Hopefully she’ll even look at your ass as you leave.

Instead, you’re drunk, you don’t have your footing, you’re in godforsaken heels- and you careen forward, right into her waiting arms.

She sighs as she wraps an arm around your shoulder, her other hand immediately going to hold your hip.

She pretends to be annoyed.

You’re not surprised by this act, she was so vulnerable last week when she came over and said she needed you, cried in your arms- and you’re putting on this bratty act because you’re mad at yourself for letting her in.

But in your drunk state, you can feel her skin on yours so vividly, and you can feel the way her fingers slightly curl into you. Greedy. Possessive, almost. You fall into her and you let her take you, and suddenly she’s taken it upon herself to make sure you’re okay all-too easily. 

“Okay. c’mon,” she sighs, like it’s some big inconvenience to her, but she slides her arm around your waist and holds to her so quickly, again so possessively.

And you would be lying if you said you never felt as safe as you do when her arm is around you.

“I’m fine,” you hiss at her, trying to push her off of you- but she doesn’t really want to let go, and neither do you. She simply tightens her grip, and you simply stop fighting.

She brings you to a much quieter, much emptier part of the house, helping you sit on a couch before asking Liz to find you some water- or just anything that wasn’t alcohol.

“How much did you drink?” She asks when she sits down next to you, putting her hand on your back. You sit with your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands, staring at the floor intently.

“A lot,” you mumble.

She laughs softly in response.

“Do you feel okay?”

Her thumb is rubbing back and forth against your back. Fuck, fuck, you lost your friends and now she’s so close and so far, and it’s so dark in this room- you can barely see a few feet in front of you.

It feels so secret- because everywhere else music is blasting. But in here, it’s just your voice and hers.

Tears well in your eyes yet again.

Maybe you should stop drinking. It makes you too goddamn emotional.

You turn to her.

You can’t face her in the light. But here, it’s so dark.

She’s let her hair down tonight. She almost never wears her hair down, so you’re kinda shocked- and you kinda wanna run your fingers through the waves.

“Why’re you here?” You ask, words muddled by alcohol.

She shrugs. “Just for fun.”

“You don’t know how to have fun,” you accuse.

She laughs, scrunches her nose. It’s all kinda condescending, still. Like you’re some little girl who doesn’t really know anything.

“Yeah, I do.”

“You never had any fun with me.”

She looks away.

“So it’s me, then? I’m the problem?”

“You’re not the problem, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes. “Fuck you.”

“Don’t be a brat,” she scolds.

Her? Scolding you?

You narrow your eyes. “Fuck. You. You’re selfish as shit, and I’m glad I broke up with you everyday.”

Saying that feels like you’re coughing up your organs, but whatever.

She smiles, scratching her nose.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“Whatever,” you echo.

She rolls her eyes. “Fuckin’ brat.”

“You can leave. You know that, right? You don’t have to stay here. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to sit on the same couch as a “brat” like me.”

“I’m not gonna leave.”

You find yourself inching closer to her.

“Scared of the dark or something, Amoore?”

Suddenly her eyes meet yours.

“Oh, no. I know what you’re scared of.”

She leans back against the couch, adjusting her legs, arms out wide along the back of the couch.

“Really?” She laughs. Genuinely laughs, as if the idea of you something knowing personal about her is so unbelievable.

Suddenly, you swing your leg over hers and climb into her lap. You straddle her, hands pressing into her shoulders as she stares at you in shock.

“Y/N,” she says, swallowing- suddenly not so cocky anymore. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You ask, twirling a piece of her hair. “Need to me to talk some more? ‘Cause you love my voice so much, right?”

She puts her hands on your thighs and barely tries to push you off. She could, if she really wanted to. She’s strong. You love her arms.

“I’m really drunk,” you confess, still twirling with a piece of her hair. You can feel her gaze on your pouted lips. “I’m probably not gonna remember this in the morning…”

“Y/N.” It’s a very clear warning, but you push past it. There’s something between your thighs and a burning desire in your stomach.

“Maybe you should show me why I shouldn’t be a brat.”

Her hand moves up from your thigh to cup your waist.

“Fuck, princess.”

“Yeah?” You say, feeling kinda like a giddy schoolgirl at the way she hungrily rakes her eyes up your body, finally landing on your lips. You bite one of them- and the alcohol prevents you from feeling kinda silly, and you can see it on her face. The way she wants you right now.

“Bloody hell,” she whispers, finally leaning forward to place a kiss to your bare chest. She lets her lips linger, and you know you have her right under your thumb- but now it’s not about the power play.

Now it’s about how fucking badly you want her to touch you.

“Touch me,” you say, hoping she doesn’t tease you about the fact you’re practically begging for her, but she seems to want to touch you just as bad. “Touch me, Georgia, please.”

“Shh,” she whispers, before finally pressing her lips to yours.

It feels a little bit like you never broke up.

—-

It’s annoyingly bright. And loud. Your eardrums might burst.

And in all honesty, you never really understood basketball all that well.

You kinda hate this entire thing.

You sigh, leaning back farther into your chair as a buzzer sounds and people cheer- and you straighten up only to realize that it’s just the first quarter.

It’s only been 10 minutes?

Your friends are all super into the game, of course, and it’s not like you don’t like supporting the girls on the team- Liz Kitley, at least, you still consider her to be one of your friends.

Having to watch Georgia completely command the court is probably one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. The way she’s so completely in her element, her hair tied back and sticking to her forehead and neck with sweat- you find yourself wanting to lick her skin.

You shake your head and groan, trying to physically get the annoyingly horny thoughts out- but, fuck. All you can think about is the last time you saw her.

The way her hands trailed your skin so hungrily, getting lower and lower, and the feeling in your stomach that felt suspiciously like an actual fire coming to a burning climax before slowly coming back down, reassured by her sweet kisses.

The way she held you that night was possessive. She made you feel like hers. The way she kissed you that night was like she had been starved of you for years, and thought about you every second.

Your friend nudges you. “Starin’ real hard.”

“I’m not,” you hiss, but you know you are.

“No, it’s okay,” she laughs. “I support it. You both miss each other.” You roll your eyes, but she doubles down. “You’re both still in love with each other, babe.”

Some odd emotion takes root in your chest. It squeezes.

“I’m not in love with her. I’m just… in like with her.”

“Mhm,” she says with a smile. “Well, we’ll all be here to celebrate when you guys finally admit it.”

“Jane, shut up.”

She nudges you again with a teasing smile. “I saw those suspicious looking bruises on your hips after that one party you both disappeared at… I might even say those suspicious bruises were kinda… Georgia shaped.”

“Shut. Up. Jane.” You narrow your eyes, and she only smiles widely before laughing and turning back to the game.

“Take your time, babe. Take your time.”

From what you understood, this was the Elite Eight game for the Hokies, and it was kind of a big deal. This game was the one that worked best in your and your friends schedules, and the stadium wasn’t exactly that far, so you came to have fun with them. To support your school, and Liz, and watching Georgia sink a few threes was an added guilty pleasure of a bonus.

You continue watching, your eyes staying mostly on #5.

Surprisingly, you aren’t watching when she gets hit.

You’ve actually managed to tear your eyes away from her and focus on the ball- when suddenly your friends gasp.

You look around the court, eyes finally landing on someone in a Hokie jersey laying on their back, face in their hands.

Someone in a red jersey walks past her, revealing a head of hair you know is Georgia’s.

You straighten, practically jumping out of your seat, your leg immediately staring to bounce up and down in anxiety.

“Get up,” you mumble to yourself. “Be okay. Get up. You’re fine, please. Please get up.”

She doesn’t get up. When you see the athletic trainers step onto the court you stand up quickly.

Jane is watching it from next to you, still sitting down, biting her nails- she looks up at you.

“Hey, Y/N, calm down,” she says, grabbing your hand. Squeezing, trying to bring you back to reality.

“Oh, fuck,” you mumble as Jane pulls herself to stand. “They have to help her off? She can’t walk herself? W-where’d she even get hit? I didn’t see, I- I-”

“Y/N.”

Jane grabs your shoulders.

“Take a deep breath… wipe your tears… and go get your girl.”

You follow the first two steps but falter at the third.

“What?” You mumble, bringing your hand down from your face.

She looks towards the court, and that’s when you realize she’s walking right past you to get to the locker rooms.

You’re thankfully at the end of the aisle, so you carefully make your way down the stairs, to the barricade, kinda feeling like you’re floating. Now that she’s at least up you feel a little better, your tears are starting to dry.

All you want to do is make sure she’s okay.

And even though she’s not yours, and you only love her in the dark- you need to know.

Besides… it’s been two weeks since you’ve felt her skin on yours.

“Georgia!” You call, hands on the barricade bracing yourself. “Georgia!”

You probably didn’t even need to call a second time, because she turns towards you.

A security guard steps in front of you with a large hand, asking you to please get back to your seat- you lock eyes with Georgia.

Her chin. It’s bright red and slightly swollen.

Silently, you ask her to please let you in- but she keeps walking, two athletic trainers helping her.

“Ma’am, please get back to your seat,” the guard says again.

Does she regret that night at the party? Is this feeling in your chest ever since Jane said she was in love with you hope? And it is being crushed now?

“Okay,” you mutter, feeling tears form in your eyes tenfold.

“You’re Y/N?” One of the athletic trainers has run over to you. The security guard gives her a look, but she glares right back.

“Yeah?”

“Georgia asked for you, c’mon.” She beckons you to follow her-

“Really?”

“Yes,” she deadpans. “She said she needed you. I don’t care what she needs, as long as she checks out, I want her to get back out there.”

“Me too,” you nod, sensing this lady took her job very seriously.

“Well c’mon then,” she sighs, patting the barricade, encouraging you to hop it. The security guard rolls his eyes and walks away, and you quickly clamber over the barricade and follow the woman- who walks very fast.

“Did she really say that she needed me?”

Your voice sounds like a stupid Disney princess.

The smallest smile makes its way into her face.

“Yes. She said she needed you.”

Georgia needs you.

You enter the locker room full of fluorescent lights, squinting as your eyes adjust and the door shuts behind you.

She’s sitting on a bench, her fists clenched as the other trainer softly holds her face to look at the mark already forming.

Georgia needs you.

You softly sit next to her, and it takes her a second to finally notice you out of the corner of her eye- an eye which is scrunched up in pain.

“Georgia,” you whisper. Her hand is shaky when you grab it. “What happened?”

“I think everyone saw,” she mumbles. You brush back some hair sticking to her forehead.

“I was actually playing attention to the ball, so, I didn’t.”

“You paid attention to basketball?”

“Well, not very well. But I tried.”

You move closer to her so your thighs are touching, her hand squeezes yours as she turns her head- and you spot the bruise on her chin.

“She got me in the chin.”

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp, looking up wide eyes to the atheistic trainer. “Is it normal to be a bruise already- God, is your jaw broken? Are you okay?”

Georgia and the trainers all let out a laugh, and you feel kinda silly, but Georgia squeezes your hand as if to reassure you. You feel a little bit better.

“Completely normal,” the woman before explains. “And, a little tip, usually if people are talking- jaws aren’t broken.”

“Oh, whatever,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks get a little hot. One of the trainers hands you an ice pack.

You.

“You’re medically checked out. Ice it for a minute, catch your breath, and you’re ready to go back out there if you want to.”

“Okay, thanks,” Georgia nods, smiling tightly- but you can hear it in her voice. The weight of it all. The pressure.

“We’ll give you a minute alone,” the trainer says, kind of suggestively, but you force yourself to ignore that as her and her colleague let the door shut behind them.

You softly press the ice pack to her chin. She shuts her eyes, and you can tell she’s willing herself not to cry.

“Does it hurt a lot?” It’s kind of a stupid question, but you can’t think of anything else to say.

“No. It’s not too bad.” Her eyes shut, and you place your other hand on her jaw to steady yourself. She lets out a breath.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you whisper, hand moving to smooth back her ponytail.

“Mm- no, no. I’m fine. I just need you right now.”

And it’s in moments like this, when Georgia says she needs you, when she’s touching you and looking to you for comfort… this is how you know you’ll never be able to fully tear yourself away from her.

She’ll always run back to you. And you’ll always let her, with open arms.

You kind of want to ask her what needing you means. But you don’t.

“I should get back out there,” she says. She’s whispering, like this moment will break.

“Yeah,” you agree, swallowing.

“Yeah.”

You meet her eyes again, and her pupils are slightly blown, she looks a little breathless-

“Oh, to fuck with it.”

She slams her lips onto yours, hands cupping your face and keeping you pressed close to her, the ice pack falling and your hands immediately winding around her neck- this is how you need her. You need her hungry and kissing you. You need her touching you and loving you.

She needs you to comfort her and you need her to fuck you.

Any shyness you had is long replaced, especially when one of her hands drifts down to squeeze your ass, making you moan her name into her mouth.

The kiss is disgusting, messy, kind of dirty.

“There’s so much riding on this game,” she breathes out when you move down to kiss her neck.

“I know,” you mumble back against her skin. “But you’re so talented.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, tilting her head back. “I only forget about it when I’m with you.”

Her hand drifts down to your neck, and she pulls you away to start kissing down yours, both of you careful to not leave marks- but you can feel her kissing a little harder then she should.

You’ll probably be leaving this place tonight with at least one faint mark on your neck. And the thought thrills you.

“Really?” You gasp. “Maybe you should stop fucking me over and spend more time fucking me.”

“I will,” she whispers against your skin, leaving one final kiss on the mark you could feel her forming. “I promise I will.”

“Good,” you say back, trying to sound confident. But she looks into your eyes, her ponytail messy from when you had tugged on her hair, and completely melt.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, pointing awkwardly to the hickey. But you know she’s saying sorry for more than that.

You cover it with your hair. “It’s okay, I guess.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she smiles, a little wickedly.

“Please.”

“I really have to go back now,” she stands up, rubbing her jaw. “Sorry- shit. You distracted me.”

“Sorry,” you shrug.

“I really gotta go before I kiss you again.”

You smile. You smile so big and she smiles right back.

“Well, now you’re definitely gonna win because you’re all fired up, huh?” You stand up, following her to the locker room door.

“Definitely.”

She doesn’t promise to text you or anything, and you don’t mind. You know she’ll come back.

You smile softly instead of saying goodbye, and she stares at you kinda in amazement for a second before shaking her head and running right back over to the game.

It feels a little bit like you never broke up, but you’re kinda glad you broke up.

—-

[freedomfireflies]

Mine*

Summary: Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has been a little neglectful of his most prized possession.

But he's found the perfect way to make it right.

Word Count: 3.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content, so please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“So, what did he say?”

“What do you think he said? Gave me some bullshit excuse about not knowing the rule and tried to save his own ass.”

Harry tsks as he throws an arm over the back of the sofa. “Fucking pathetic. They’re all the same.”

“All of ’em,” Asher agrees with a nod. “But I had a couple of the guys tail him, and he led us straight back to the warehouse.”

“Good. Think it’s time we pay him a little visit,” Harry decides before his eyes trail over to where you still stand in the kitchen.

You usually try to keep your distance when Harry’s in one of his meetings. And perhaps this isn’t exactly an official meeting per se, seeing as it’s taking place in your living room. But nevertheless, you’re hesitant to interfere.

Besides, you’re more than content to just watch when he’s in his element like this. Like to watch the way his expression will grow dark, and his voice will take on a certain edge. The way he’ll speak about death as if recalling the weather. The way he’ll drop threats as if they were weightless.

He can be quite intimidating when he wants to be. Most of the men that work for him won’t even make eye-contact with him. And you’re almost certain a few of them have even pissed themselves on occasion.

Asher is about the only one who doesn’t flinch when Harry enters a room. Perhaps that’s the result of their lifelong friendship, or perhaps it’s because he knows he’s Harry’s right-hand man. 

Either way, Asher is the only man on the team that Harry truly trusts. Which is probably why he was invited to your home this evening.

Of course, Harry claimed he merely wanted to relax and catch-up. But you knew better. 

The only way to get Harry Styles to actually unwind and relax is by fucking him.

You fidget by the fridge as you’re forced under his cool stare, a tad apprehensive about why you’ve garnered his attention. You hope you haven’t disturbed their conversation, although you do wish he’d wrap it up.

He’s hardly been home the past couple of weeks. You understand why, of course. A threat was made to the company that Harry needed to eliminate. And you’d never stand in the way of his work.

But…you miss him. Miss getting to be near him. And maybe you wouldn’t as much if he actually allowed you to visit him at his office. But he declared it was too unsafe. He doesn’t like when other men look at you. Doesn’t appreciate when the people that he pays get the nerve to gawk at what’s his.

Although, truthfully, you think it’s rather cute how overprotective he gets.

Harry smirks as he motions you forward, seemingly amused. “Come here, sugar. You’re too far.”

Relieved to know he’s not upset, you let out a deep breath and obey his command, feet padding across the hardwood floor to bring you closer to where they reside.

You smile a shy greeting at Asher, who offers an entertained grin of his own before Harry is looping his outstretched arm around your waist and placing you on his lap.

“There,” he declares as his chin slips over your shoulder. “S’much better, isn’t it?”

You nod, face warming and hands gathering in front of you.

You’re not sure why you’ve gone so quiet. So still. Something feels…off. Incomplete, in a sense. 

Sure, the warmth of his body is doing wonders for this…lost feeling in your head, but it still doesn’t feel like it's…enough.

However, Harry can read you like a book. Knows what each nervous habit and tic means. Knows when you’re feeling anxious, nervous, shy.

Submissive.

And he knows exactly how to fix it.

“Was just telling Asher here about sending our good friend Sean a little message,” Harry murmurs, subtly pulling you back into his chest. “M’getting so fucking tired of playing all these games. Tired of being kept…from what’s most important.”

His fingers begin to tap against your thigh, maybe in an attempt to call your attention to him, but either way…it makes your thighs squeeze a bit closer together.

You feel him smile into your neck. “Are you tired, too, mama?” he hums, in that low tone of voice he knows makes you weak. “Tired of waiting for me? Tired of needing me to make it better?”

Despite yourself, your lashes flutter as you sink even further into his hold. Needing to be encompassed by him. Cocooned by his smell, and his touch, and his intentions.

You’re vaguely aware of the way he’s begun toying with your dress, gently guiding the fabric further up your legs. Giving you enough time to realize. To stop him if that’s what you want.

And maybe you should want to stop him. Should be more concerned about poor Asher, forced to watch from his chair a few feet away. But right now…right now it feels necessary. Like if you stop him…you’ll die.

“So unfair. Being kept from you,” Harry whispers, pressing his lips to the skin just below your ear. “So fucking unfair…knowing that you’re waiting here for me. Like a good girl. Laid out in our bed…needing me to take care of you.”

The cool air feels sinful against your bare thighs, but you welcome it. Welcome the chill that travels down your spine as your cunt grows a bit needier.

Despite yourself, you begin to squirm over his lap, rather desperate for some friction. For him.

And he chuckles darkly at your attempt, the one arm on your hip tightening ever-so-slightly to prevent a second effort. “And I haven’t been, have I? Haven’t been taking care of you the way you need. The way you deserve. Huh, sugar?”

You’re quick to shake your head, longing to appease him. Make him happy. Give him whatever he wants. An answer, your body, your time.

He has it. It’s his.

His hands find their way to your underwear. He’s gentle. Tame. Innocently grazing his finger over the front of your soaked panties as he hums with contentment.

“Oh, my poor little girl,” he coos, nuzzling his nose into your cheek. “Bet it hurts, doesn’t it? Bet you feel so fucking empty…don’t you, mama?”

Another quick nod, your eyes growing heavy as you rest back against his shoulder, breaths quick and light.

He adds a bit more pressure. Enough to make you choke on a whimper as you steel yourself against his chest. You grasp onto his wrist, maybe in an attempt to warn him, or maybe in an attempt to just…touch him. Be a part of it. But either way, you don’t let go.

“What?” he asks gently, dancing a few innocent kisses down the curve of your neck. “What, sugar? What do you need?”

And you want to tell him. You do. But…you can’t speak. You couldn’t really speak before, either, but now…now it’s impossible.

Instead, you sigh. You sigh and you squeeze his arm and you hope that he understands.

Which he does. 

He always understands you.

“Come on, honey. Tell me,” he pushes, the determined strokes growing a bit more powerful. “Need me to make it better?”

You swallow thickly, a soft whine melting from between your lips as you slowly grind into his hand.

But that small voice inside your head reminding you that you aren’t capable of making a coherent decision pipes up. 

Harry doesn’t share. He never has, he never will. You don’t imagine he’d appreciate Asher bearing witness to such a sight, and you have to wonder if Harry even remembers the poor man is even still in the room.

Your head rolls, eyes finding Asher’s figure, still seated in his chair. You’re hoping to call attention to him, so Harry is forced to recall his presence.

And it works, Harry looking over as well while Asher murmurs, “Hi, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks heat up as you nestle further back into Harry’s chest.

However, instead of growing annoyed, Harry simply smiles. “Oh, sweet girl. Are you worried about him?”

You nod once, looking back up at your rather cocky boyfriend.

In return, he tsks soothingly, hand coming up to brush down your cheek. “You don’t have to worry about Asher, mama. He doesn’t mind. Does he?”

“Not at all,” Asher replies calmly, almost as if unaffected by the scandalous act before him. “What the boss man wants…the boss man gets.”

And for some reason, knowing the handsome second in command is watching you makes your mind grow that much fuzzier. As if fully surrendering to that floating feeling trying to trap you.

Once Harry sees that you’ve fully succumbed to your subspace, he hums again, and presses a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay, sugar. M’gonna take care of you. I’ve got you, all right?”

You don’t have the strength to nod, instead making a rather needy noise as you tug on his arm and turn to bury your face in his neck.

 Another chuckle emits from his chest, reverberating across your back as he readjusts in his seat to get started.

First, he takes hold of the pathetic excuse for underwear you slipped on and begins dragging them down your thighs. Then, after eagerly flicking them free from your ankles, he tosses them toward his partner. “Hold these for me, yeah?”

Asher catches them midair, nodding his understanding as you suck in a sharp breath. 

And you can’t help but squirm, now growing hot under the realization of your nakedness to the room.

But you appreciate the way both men attempt to make you feel safe. Asher doesn’t stare, instead relaxing in his seat as if this were an everyday occurrence for him. Patiently waiting for Harry’s next instruction. Obediently waiting for him to do what he needs to do.

And Harry does what he always does. He takes care of you. Whispers things in your ear like, “Shh. That’s it, there’s my sweet girl. I’ve got you, honey. Just gonna have a little taste, yeah?”

It’s an out-of-body experience. It’s like you’re here…but you’re not. You know he’s touching you but that’s all you know. It’s all you want.

He takes your legs in each hand before pulling you further open, resting your thighs on the outsides of his. 

You’re good and truly spread now, allowing even more of the cool air to travel its way to your aching cunt.

And you shiver when you feel it, lashes falling shut as you take a deep breath in. Harry’s familiar cologne calming your nerves almost instantly.

“There you go,” he praises gently, smoothing his palms along your skin. “That’s it. Just relax for me, okay? Relax…”

So you do. You release each inhibition and just…let him. Let him do whatever, take whatever, have whatever he wants.

When his fingers return to your pussy, it’s like magic. Exactly what had been missing, and you jolt at the faint but welcome contact.

He teases you for a moment, dragging his touch up and down, through and over. Never in. Never hard. 

Never enough.

And you whimper every time he leaves your swollen clit, wishing more than anything that he would merely give you what he knows you need.

Maybe he’s trying to show off for Asher. Or maybe he just likes having an audience and wants to prolong the experience.

Either way, it almost kills you.

“Please,” you breathe, once again attempting to thrust up into his hand before pouting when he pulls away.

“Please?” he repeats, grip constricting around you. “Please what, hm? What do you need, sweet girl?”

Another displeased huff as you scratch your nails down his tattooed skin, pressing deep into the ink as if hoping to see it bleed.

The fucker has the nerve to laugh. “S’not an answer, is it, mama?”

You’re growing impatient, half a mind to shove his hand away and do it yourself. Which you don’t think he’d mind.

No, he doesn’t like when you touch yourself. But that’s only if you don’t ask permission. As long as you ask him first and allow him to either see it or hear it…he doesn’t mind.

“Touch me,” you whisper, so faintly, you’re almost sure he didn’t hear.

And you’re proven correct when he dips down and murmurs, “Again.”

“Touch me,” you repeat, a little bit louder, but still airy. “Please, Har…please touch me.”

Another tsk. A deliberating noise as if debating whether or not to agree. “I don’t know. S’kind of in the middle of something. Maybe I should finish my meeting first, hm? Think you can sit here and wait for me?”

And you groan. Because no. No, you can’t possibly wait. Not anymore than you already have, and he’s so cruel. So fucking cruel to do this to you.

“You can,” he decides, ignoring your outraged plea. “You can be good for me. Know you can, sugar. Come on.”

With that, he leans back against the couch, and turns to Asher, diving once again into their previous discussion.

And you assume that part of Harry’s little game will involve him taking his hand away from you. To actually make you wait until he’s decided it’s your turn.

But you’re more than surprised when he continues his light, feathery touches across your cunt. Playing with your folds and your clit almost mindlessly. 

“Should I send the guys down tomorrow?” Asher asks, fighting a smirk as Harry mulls this over.

“Not yet,” he decides. “No. No, I think we need to make him sweat it out a bit. He knows we’re coming. Let the fucker spin.”

“I’ll have Blake watch him,” Asher replies. “Make sure he doesn’t skip town.”

“Good.”

“You wanna bring him in for questioning?”

Another pause as Harry trails his finger down, teasing your hole before pulling back. “Not yet. Think we need to remind him what happens…when he lies.”

And just as this decision is made, Harry finally concedes to your needs and pushes himself in. All the way to the knuckle as you gasp and writhe over his lap.

It’s not at all subtle, and you’re almost humiliated by how unpoised you’ve become. But you can’t help it. Can’t help any of it. Not the sounds you’re making, not the noises coming from the gentle thrusts of his finger in and out of your pussy.

It’s echoing across the room like music from the record player.

But neither of the men pay it any mind, instead carrying on in conversation as if you’re not even here. As if you’re not dripping down Harry’s hand, soaking his nice trousers.

“You think he’ll lead us to Matthews?” Asher asks next, resting one arm over the back of his chair.

“Maybe. If we do it right,” Harry says, stroking your inner walls with devious intent. Looking for that one spot that unravels you faster than anything else. “But there are ways of making him. If we need to.”

Asher nods. “I’ll call Blake tomorrow. Arrange the trail.”

But you miss Harry’s reply beneath the sound of your own desperate whine, your chest now heaving under the stress of pleasure building within your stomach.

His thumb flicks across your clit before pressing into it, hard and with fervor. He maneuvers it in frantic circles as your pants grow louder. 

You don’t know what to do. How to breathe. No idea how to remain relaxed when he’s doing this to you. When he’s so determined to make you cum in front of his guest.

“—wouldn’t matter then. He knows. They all fucking know,” Harry is saying to Asher before his lips are pressing back into your cheek. “And I’m not going out there if I don’t have to.”

“That’s fine. You know we’ve got it,” Asher responds. “Would you still like Alec on patrol?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admits before a second finger begins easing into you. “I don’t like the way he looks at her.”

Asher’s head tilts. “Was he looking at her?”

“He was fucking thinking about it,” Harry scoffs, the hand on your hip tightening. “And if I can’t be here with her, I need to know she’s safe.”

“I can send a few more guys over. Make sure there’s someone at each post.”

“No. I don’t want anyone else watching her but me,” Harry grunts. “Fucking bring her with me before I let someone else in.”

You sigh at this. You know he worries about your safety and care more than anything else. It’s why he’s gone so often. He wants to keep you hidden away in the apartment. Out of sight from his men, and his job, and his…well, enemies.

You understand it, you suppose.

Not that it makes it any easier.

The coil in your belly tightens as he brings his other set of fingers into play. Now, both hands are devoted to you. One making sure to fill you and stretch you just the way you need, while the other plays with your clit like you’re nothing but a toy.

“We can find a safe house in Seattle,” Asher offers. “A place to keep her if you need to bring her along.”

“Maybe,” Harry murmurs, his chest flush with your back as if trying to push himself through you. Consume you. “But if they know she’s there—”

“They won’t,” Asher interrupts, almost resolutely. “They’re not gonna fucking touch her. I promise.”

“No,” Harry agrees, growling the word in your ear as you clench around his fingers and gasp. “No. They’re not. Not gonna use her…to get to me. Not gonna fucking take…the only good thing I have. Not gonna take…what’s mine.”

The energy has turned dark. Angry. Now he’s not trying to tease. Now he’s trying to own you. Remind you who you are. Who you belong to. 

The explosion of your orgasm is racing toward you, hurtling so fast, it makes your lungs ache.

He needs you to cum more than you need it. Needs to know that your body only bends for him. That your pleasure is his.

That you are his.

Even if you tell him every day. Even if he knows you’d never look at anybody else the way you look at him.

He needs to feel it. Needs to understand that he’s not gonna lose you the way he loses everything else.

And one of the ways he understands this…is by making you cum so many times that you don’t know anything else but him.

“Almost there, aren’t you?” you hear him whisper, his teeth finding your earlobe as he tugs.

“Yes,” you sigh, so pitifully wrecked that you can hardly speak. “Yes. Wanna cum for you. Please…”

“I know,” he hums. “I know, sweet girl. And you will. Gonna cum all over my fucking hand, yeah? Gonna let me taste how much you missed me?”

You give him nothing more than a zealous nod as you begin to squirm harder over his thighs, seeing that blissful end. 

And when it happens, you just about start crying. It’s so…powerful. And you don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you’ve been feeling so needy today. Maybe it’s because of Asher being here. Maybe it’s because you can feel how angry Harry is.

But it doesn’t matter. It’s everything. So deliciously perfect that you almost don’t want him to stop.

He’s gentle as he rides you through. As he mutters his praises and leans you both back into the couch cushions. As he keeps you trapped between his arms and keeps his lips on your skin. 

“There you go,” he coos, his praises like a symphony in your ear. Warming your body, your heart, your soul. “There she is. Fucking squeezing me, honey. Feels so good, you know that? Fucking missed it. Missed the way you feel.”

You know he did. He tells you all the time how good your body is to him.

And you believe him.

When he delicately takes his hands away from you, you deflate. Whining some at the loss of contact and fullness, nearly praying for him to touch you again.

But he’s got something else in mind. 

He brings the hand that was inside you up to your mouth, soaked fingers trailing across your bottom lip in a silent instruction to open wide.

So, you do. You take his large digits into your mouth, and you suck. You take everything on your tongue as you swirl it around him. As you swallow and let your eyes fall shut in blissful ecstasy.

And as you do, he brings his other hand up to his mouth. Doing exactly the same thing as you both sit there and taste. 

And the sound of him cursing with content at the way you coat his tastebuds is fucking magical. Everything he does is magic to you.

You’ve never felt so happy.

No, you’re still not quite in your right mind, but you don’t even care. Don’t care how far away you feel because you know he’s here to bring you back when you’re ready.

“Good fucking girl,” he practically purrs, palm once again stroking down your cheek. “Did so good for me, mama. So fucking good. My perfect angel. Feel better now, honey? S’that what you needed?”

You smile. “It was certainly a start.”

Harry smiles a bit bigger now, laughing beneath his breath as he drops his hand back down to your aching pussy, cupping it firmly. “A start, huh?”

You nod, a catch in your throat as the intrigue starts to build once again.

Harry hums.

“Then I guess we better finish it.”

I know this isn't everybody's thing, but if you guys would be okay with me maybe doing a part two...I kind of love this Harry? 😭

Next Part:

~ Ours* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[ohbo-ohno]

i'll eat you whole (ghost x soap)

summary: After a terrible accident during a race, Johnny is left abandoned and lost in the forests of Alaska. While looking for shelter, he’s cornered by a bear.

word count: 10.8k

cw: dark fic!!!, noncon sex, dog hybrid johnny & bear hybrid simon, kidnapping, trans ftm soap, degradation, forced feminization, breeding kink, bloody kisses, spanking, size difference

read on ao3 - see the pinterest board

Johnny hadn’t meant to get lost. He’d meant to win the goddamn Iditarod instead of coming in second for the fourth year in a row, but nothing in his life has gone to plan recently.

Considering how long he’d been training for this stupid fucking race, you’d think his parents would’ve had him running a half decent musher’s sled - you break your ankle one time and suddenly your parents (your managers when you’re an unlucky bastard like him) act like you’ll never run again, sell you off to the highest bidder, and wipe their hands of you. 

Sure Johnny’s injury still flares with pain sometimes, but he’s perfectly capable of gritting his teeth and running through it, like a real racer. He’d even made a full recovery - cleared by a doctor and everything. It’s bullshit he’d gotten stuck with whoever put up the most money.

This year, the highest bidder happened to be some brat human who thought using daddy’s money to buy the best sled and dog shifters meant he could win the Iditarod. Idiot. A bigoted idiot, too, considering how often he’d spoken to Johnny and all the other shifters like they’re actual dogs when they’d shifted into their dog forms. Johnny had been one expectant snap from biting straight through the dumbass’s hand.

Though for as much of an idiot as he was, the brat hadn’t deserved to die. And he especially didn’t deserve to take 13 other people down with him.

Johnny can’t help but shiver at the memory of their deaths. He’d been the only one to survive, and it was pure luck. He’d never been so close to death.

Their musher had taken a shortcut - an unknown, unexplored shortcut - and it cost the rest of them their lives. Johnny can recall the exact moment he realized they were running on packed ice instead of frozen dirt, the way every dog had tried to stop as they all had the same realization, had heard the same deafening crack.

In the end, Johnny was the only one able to sink his claws into the top of the ice, the only one able to scramble out of the freezing lake and back onto solid ground. He’d been quick enough to get the little booties off his paws, lucky enough to flail in the exact right direction. 

He’d tried to pull his fellow racers up, but hadn’t been able to get a firm hold on any of them. They hadn’t been able to calm their panic enough to think, and he hadn’t been strong enough to lift them up with all the struggling. In the end, all thirteen of them died, floating beneath the thick layer of ice.

He’s lost other shifters on the race before, seen frozen corpses as he’s run, but he already knows that the image of his teammates drowning is one he’s going to see for the rest of his life. The whites of their eyes, the cries so pained they nearly sounded human, the scratches and thumps from beneath the ice as the current took them… already, he sees it all when he blinks.

He’d gotten off the ice as quickly as possible, stumbled into an unfamiliar forest on four paws. Now he treks through a frozen forest, body so wracked with shivers that he can hardly walk straight. Every exhale blinds him for a moment, the clouds of white air blocking his sight of everything else white in the area.

He has no idea what to do. Instinct tells him to keep moving, that he can’t give up, but he has no idea how to get back to the track. Between the “shortcut” and the general unfamiliarity of the area, he’s got no way of knowing if he’s even going in the right direction or if he’s just wandering further away. His best hope is that they send helicopters for wounded racers early, and that one spots him from the sky and picks him up. 

Johnny’s not an idiot, he knows the odds of that happening - or of him being alive to see it happen - are slim to none. What he really needs to do is try and find somewhere warm, but that doesn’t exactly seem possible in the frozen tundra of Alaska.

His pessimistic musings are interrupted by a sound - a growl, to his right and from an uncomfortably close distance.

Johnny nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees the bear only a few meters away.

It’s a big beast even on all fours, has to be nearly eight feet tall at the shoulder. Johnny can’t see much but the shape of it, but that’s enough for him to know he needs to get away as soon as possible. 

He’s taken safety training courses for being lost in the wilderness his whole life, knows that if you spot a polar bear you’re supposed to move away as slowly as possible without looking away, never making any sudden or aggressive moves. So Johnny lowers himself a little closer to the ground, can’t help the soft hiss of air through his teeth at the touch of cold ice against his sensitive belly, and shuffles back as slowly as he can with stiff limbs.

If his vision isn’t failing him, the bear tilts its head. It occurs to Johnny that the bear might be a shifter, but if that’s true he should know to put the pieces together that the husky in the snow is probably a lost racer, and the polite thing to do would be to show he’s a shifter too. Of course, there’s always the chance he’s not polite.

Regardless, Johnny continues his slow shuffles backwards. His heartrate kicks up as the bear moves towards him, but it's mannerisms read more curious than aggressive so Johnny forces himself to lay still and not bolt in another direction. He wouldn’t make it very far anyway, not with the chill seeping into his bones the way it is.

The bear’s even more terrifying from flat on the ground, so tall that it blocks out the sun when it stands over Johnny. He bites back a whimper, fights the instinctual urge to show his belly to a clearly stronger animal.

The bear snuffles along his spine, its warm breath sinking into Johnny’s soaked fur. He feels a tongue poke out to stroke against a small cut on his left side, where either a piece of ice or another shifter's claws had gotten him. It’s not bleeding much anymore - Johnny can hardly even feel the sting with the rest of the cold - but the bear licks it several times anyway, almost like it’s cleaning the small wound.

Johnny’s careful to lay perfectly still, nothing more than his ear twitching as the bear continues its perusal. It’s oddly thorough, even goes so far as to try and force its snout underneath his ribs to try and flip him over. Johnny digs his claws into the snow and goes stiff as he can, and a moment later the bear huffs and moves on.

Once it’s finished looking for whatever it seems to want, it starts to shove at him again. This time it’s pushier, and manages to actually lift Johnny’s bottom half off the ground with a particularly rough shove to his hindlegs.

Eventually Johnny has to stand on his own four legs or he’ll be sent ass over teakettle. He moves a few feet in the direction the bear is nudging him, then settles back into the snow with his ears pressed flat.

That gets him an angry huff, one that has his hackles rising. He shuffles another few steps, then drops again, hoping the damn beast will give up whatever it wants - clearly it’s not dinner, or Johnny would already be torn to shreds. But the fact that he’s still got all of his limbs doesn’t make him any less nervous around the absolute behemoth of a bear.

After his third time moving a few feet and dropping, the bear seems to give up on him. It snorts out an aggravated noise and noses the thick fur at the back of Johnny’s neck before grabbing with his teeth and lifting.

All thoughts of no sudden movements fly out of Johnny’s head and he jerks, yelping at the sudden change, and nearly tears himself away from the bear until there’s a snarl above his head.

The sound speaks to a deep part of Johnny’s hind-brain, the animal part of him that commands go still when met with a predator who outclasses him in every way. Even if he wanted to fight and struggle, his body decides to go limp in the bear’s jaws and he’s left feeling like a scruffed pup. 

The bear walks for a long time, Johnny’s body swaying in his hold. Eventually he takes them to a large cave in the side of a nearby mountain - another point for the shifter theory, since even Johnny knows that polar bears tend to burrow underground rather than make their dens in a cave.

He struggles just a bit when the bear walks into the cave, uncomfortable with being so defenseless in a more closed off area. But another of those menacing growls and his brain works against him, body going limp. There’s a rumble against his shoulder where it rests against the bear’s chest, and Johnny idly wonders if bears purr.

The path through the cave is long and winding, the walls slowly getting closer and closer but never so close that the bear can’t comfortably walk through them.

Finally, after what feels like hours to Johnny’s frostbitten brain, the bear steps into a more open cave. There are furs covering the stone floor from wall to wall, several layered over each other in certain spots, and a roaring fire in the center of the room.

That confirms his shifter theory. No true bear is skinning its prey for their pelts, or starting a fire in their cave. The knowledge that he’s (likely) not going to be eaten allows the last few hints of tension to melt from Johnny’s bones.

He flops like dead weight when the bear drops him without warning in front of the fire. He whines a little, shoots a glare at the beast and rubs a paw over his head in discomfort. He gets a snort in response, and then the bear curves himself around Johnny’s back, making sure to angle him so his other side is facing the fire.

As much as Johnny hates to put so much faith into a stranger, he can’t help but feel safe surrounded by the bear’s warmth. He knows he’s an idiot to trust so quickly, but surely no one with bad intentions would drag him all the way across the forest and deep into their cave? It would’ve been easier to just ignore him completely.

So, against his better judgment, Johnny allows the warmth to lull him to sleep. He rests his head on one of the bear’s paws as a pillow, gives them an affectionate huff before letting himself drift off.

———————————————————————

Johnny wakes up, hours later, in his human skin.

That’s normal - depending on his dreams, he’ll subconsciously shift between human and dog as he sleeps. It’s not odd for Johnny to wake up in completely different places after sleepwalking either, so waking up to feel his human cheek against warm furs isn’t a surprise.

The large hands running over him, the weight resting over his thighs? That’s a surprise.

He blinks his eyes open slowly. His whole body feels soft and soaked in warmth, and the idea of moving seems nearly impossible. He can tell he’s still fully clothed - a pair of mukluks on his feet, his arctic bib and long underwear, his ruff jacket zipped up tight, all the layers beneath pressing his tail down uncomfortably. The only things missing are his mittens and his scarf, but his hands feel unnaturally warm without them anyway.

The cave is dark and the walls are far closer than he remembers them being, the ceiling covered in dancing shadows that almost make Johnny forget where he is until he lifts his head a bit. Instead of the wide open cave he’d fallen asleep in, he’s laying in a much smaller alcove that traps all the heat in its walls.

The bear is definitely a shifter - either that or the human straddling Johnny’s legs is an incredible hunter with complete resistance to the cold. 

The fact that he’s a naked human clicks a moment later in Johnny’s head.

“Wha’...” he moans, shifting and trying to move his elbows beneath him and sit up. He’s stopped by a sudden heavy weight over his chest, the man dropping his elbows beside Johnny’s head and giving him his weight to keep him down.

It works, Johnny’s forced back to the fur-covered floor if only because he wasn’t expecting the sudden weight on his chest. The man growls low in his chest, a pure bear sound that vibrates through Johnny.

The shifter’s handsome as a man. Broad jaw, crooked nose, thin lips, pale skin decorated in scars - just Johnny’s type when he’s looking for a night of quick fun. He’s a big motherfucker too, Johnny’s not a small man but he’s dwarfed beneath the bear. 

“Puppy,” the bear gruffs down at him, severe blue eyes set in a glare. He’s intimidating, but the two fluffy white ears twitching in his blonde hair almost make Johnny’s half-asleep brain want to smile.

Then what he’d said registers, and he scowls instead.

“Puppy? Who the fuck are you calling puppy, you big bastard?” He pushes at the bear’s shoulders, grunts when he doesn’t move even an inch. “Get the fuck off of me.”

The bear listens, leans back but keeps one solid hand laid on Johnny’s chest - the damn thing is massive, his thumb and pinky nearly touching each nipple. 

“Still,” he says, his voice so low it’s almost difficult to understand.

Johnny doesn’t listen, keeps squirming beneath the man. “What are you-?”

He huffs, shakes his head a bit. “Quiet.”

Johnny grunts, glaring up at him. “Can you say more than one word at once, or are you gonna keep doin’ your best caveman impression?”

The bear’s upper lip curls and he pushes on Johnny’s chest, knocking the air out right out of his chest. “Quiet. Be a good mate and listen.”

Oh, fuck no.

“Mate? Oh, you’re out of your mind, fuckin’ bastard. I’m not your goddamn ma-“

He’s cut off by another growl and a harsh press of lips against his own. The bear’s weight is back over him, heavy and suffocating and forcing him down with his chest and his face.

Johnny snarls into the mockery of a kiss, lifts his hands to try and shove the bear off by his shoulders. It’s fruitless, and the bear only licks into his mouth when Johnny tries to speak again. His tongue is thick and warm, pressing up against the roof of Johnny’s mouth and between his lips and teeth.

He growls at that, bites down hard as soon as the intruding tongue is back between his teeth. His sharp canines do the trick, and the taste of blood bursts into his mouth. Johnny’s eyes are wide open and he sees the exact moment the bear registers what he’s done, the way his face contorts itself in anger.

The growl he gets in return almost makes Johnny feel like the ground beneath him is shaking, it’s deafening and vibrates through all of his clothes and right to his ribs.

The bear bites him back in retaliation, leans up just enough to lock his own sharp teeth in Johnny’s bottom lip and pulls upwards. It gets Johnny jerking beneath him, lifting up as much as possible to try and alleviate the pressure.

He can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut at the sharp pain, ears pressed flat to his head and just barely managing to keep a whimper locked in his throat. He almost feels like his lip is going to tear right off, his entire torso lifted from the furs as he tries to follow the bear. It fucking hurts.

He can feel blood drip down his chin, a bit into his mouth, and can't resist the whine this time at the taste. He blinks his eyes open and looks up at the bear’s glare, prays that the wetness gathering in his eyes doesn’t turn to tears.

The bear drops him without warning, and Johnny can’t help but cry out when his head cracks against the ground. Even with the fur beneath him, the stone floor is brutal when he can’t catch himself. If he weren’t pinned so securely he’d curl up, cover his head with his arms until the pain faded.

As it is he tries to throw his arms over his face, but they’re quickly pinned above his head by one massive paw. The man’s other hand rests over Johnny’s throat, his palm pushing right against his pounding pulse.

“Mate,” the man growls again, nose nearly brushing Johnny’s when he bends over. “You were wandering around my territory, you belong to me.”

“That’s bullshit,” Johnny spits, lip throbbing. “I was fuckin’ lost, how was I supposed to know this is your territory?”

The bear smiles cruelly. “Not my problem, puppy. You were wandering, alone, in my territory, and now you’re mine. No point in arguin’. I’m keeping you.”

“My arse there’s no point in arguin’!” Johnny thrashes as much as he can beneath the bear’s weight, back arching as he tries to get enough leverage by planting his feet to throw the man off of him. “You can’t just decide I’m your mate! I don’t even fuckin’ know you!”

The man chuckles lowly, pressing his pelvis against Johnny’s to hold him against the furs. “You’re not goin’ anywhere. You can bitch and moan as much as you want, but you’re gonna stay right here in my den, safe and warm. Keep you stuffed full of my cum, maybe that’ll help you calm down, hm? Need a nice load in your guts, pup?”

Johnny’s eyes fly open at that, his heartbeat kicking up another notch as his squirming grows more panicked. “What the- no, what the fuck? Get off, I’m serious, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” The bear bites the air just in front of Johnny’s sluggishly bleeding lip, the click of his teeth loud and threatening. “You’ll try and kill me? You can’t even get out from under me, pup.”

Johnny growls at that, bares his teeth and on pure instinct leans up just enough to bite the bear’s throat. The skin is warm between his teeth, and he bites down as hard as he can, the animal part of him wanting to taste blood. 

Instead of the man lurching back and away, as Johnny had assumed and hoped he would, he groans and falls further onto Johnny. To his own horror, he can feel the man hardening against his thigh, even through all the layers of clothing between them.

He bites harder, growls and squeezes his eyes shut while he shakes his head like he would to a rabbit he’d just caught hunting. It doesn’t do anything to the bear, only has him working his hips against Johnny. The moans rumble so loudly in his throat that Johnny’s teeth feel like they’re vibrating in his mouth and leave his gums and tongue tingling.

The bear’s hand moves from his throat up to his face, cupping one cheek in his palm. His hand is so large that his thumb rests on the cleft of Johnny’s chin while his fingers cup the back of his skull, nearly wrapping around to the other side. He doesn’t even try to pull Johnny off, only holds him securely in place.

That gets a little confused noise from Johnny, and when the larger man doesn’t do anything but seemingly appreciate his attack he lets go and reverts to trying to struggle away. The spot he’d been biting glows bright red in the firelight, a clear ring of indentions and individual teeth marks so deep that they’d be impossible to mistake as anything else.

To his own frustration, the bear looks pleased above him. “Already claimin’ me, huh?”

Johnny sputters, rearing away from the man and his grinding hips. “Claiming? Fucking attacking, you goddamn oaf.”

Another rumbling laugh. “You think that’s an attack?” The bear’s hand shifts to give Johnny’s cheek a condescending pat. “That’s real cute, pup. Don’t think I’ll mind so much if you wanna keep attackin’ me, then.”

The nonchalance has Johnny’s temper flaring more than it already was, his booted feet scrabbling against the furs as he tries to rip his wrists away from the man. “You fucking arsehole-!” He grunts when his hands are freed without warning, the weight over his chest disappearing. 

He’s quick to throw himself back and away from the bear, hitting the wall of the cave and bringing his knees up to his chest.

The bear somehow looks bigger than he had hovering over Johnny. He blocks the one opening out of the small cave, the roaring fire casting a warm glow around his body. His skin is pale, nearly snow white, and covered in a myriad of scars - claw marks, bites, what might be arrow wounds, what are definitely bullet wounds, all sorts of markings covering him from head to toe. 

The way he sits - knelt back on his ankles, knees spread wide with his arms crossed - leaves his cock on display. Hard as Johnny might try not to look, it’s right there. He can’t exactly avoid it.

His cock is thick and ruddy, rock hard despite the little stimulation he’s gotten from himself or Johnny. It curves straight up toward his stomach, nearly touching the bear’s belly button. If Johnny had to bet, he’d guess his fingers wouldn’t touch if he grabbed around the shaft. His balls hang low and heavy between his legs, and Johnny can trace a vein on the underside of his shaft even from several feet away.

He has to fight to tear his eyes away from the bear’s lower half. The man’s got another thing coming if he thinks he’s getting that weapon anywhere near any of Johnny’s holes.

The bear’s wearing a small smirk when they lock eyes and Johnny’s cheeks go red at being caught staring.

“No need to be embarrassed, puppy,” he chuckles, shifting to rest more fully on his heels. “You can look all you want. Gonna be inside you real soon, might as well get used to it.”

Johnny scowls at that, pushing himself further into the brick wall. His ears twitch where they’re pointed forward, and he has to make a conscious effort to keep them from pinning flat to his scalp. “In your goddamn dreams. You’re not putting anythin’ inside of me.”

The man’s smirk grows. “That a challenge?”

“It’s fucking true! I’m not letting some hermit in the middle of nowhere fuck me! We’re not goddamn mates, you’re just some freak who found me in the forest after the worst goddamned day of my life, that doesn’t give you any right to-”

“Alright,” the bear sighs heavily, speaking over Johnny’s continued ranting. “Don’t get yourself so worked up.” He leans forward, arms uncrossing and ignoring the way Johnny jerks away.

“What’re you-? Hey!” He shouts when the bear grabs his ankle, tugging firmly so his leg is laid flat, then working to loosen the laces keeping his boots tight. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

He tries to kick the bear in the chest with his free foot, but it’s batted away like nothing more than an annoying fly. “Calm down,” the man grunts, finally getting the first boot undone and tossing both it and his thermal socks over his shoulder, then grabbing Johnny’s other foot and working on it. “Need to get you out of all these damn layers. Has it even occurred to you you shouldn’t be out in the snow if you need all this with you?” He looks strangely disapproving as he gets the other boot off.

“No,” Johnny grunts, wriggling like a fish on a line as the man moves up to his jacket. “Because I don’t take advice from fucking kidnappers who live in caves!”

The man grunts as he starts unzipping Johnny’s jacket, ignoring the hands desperately trying to shove him off. “You will now. You’ll listen to your mate when he tells you to do something, won’t you?”

“No!” Johnny bellows, red in the face from anger. The laugh he gets in response only has him shouting again, his struggles hindered as the man yanks his jacket off and temporarily gets his arms stuck. “I’m not gonna listen to shit you say!”

“Oh, you will,” the bear rumbles. It sounds more like a promise than a threat. “You’ll learn that things will go easier for you when you listen.”

“Oh will they?” Johnny snarls sarcastically, baring his teeth when the man tucks his jacket to the side and starts to work on his arctic bib. 

“Yes.”

“No! They won’t! Because I’m not fucking staying here! And will you quit trying to get me fucking naked?!”

The bear huffs a laugh, pulling the top half of the bib down so it hangs over his thick pants, leaving just a long-sleeved shirt on his torso. His tail unfurls beneath the shirt, folded uncomfortably beneath his body. “You’ll overheat in all these layers. The den is more than warm enough to keep you comfortable, no need for your silly human clothes.”

“There is a need!” Johnny grouses, finally lifting his foot enough to plant it firmly on the bear’s chest and keep him back, even for just a moment. “It’s my need to keep myself covered from a pervert like you!”

“Pervert, freak, hermit, kidnapper… not very kind names for your mate, pup,” the bear hums, one hand lifting to hold Johnny’s ankle loosely and running his thumb over the top of his foot. “The locals call me Ghost. But you can call me Simon.”

Johnny scowls again, the expression carved deep into his face at this point. “I’ll call you whatever I fuckin’ want.” He runs through his knowledge of local legends mentally, but the name Ghost doesn’t ring a single bell. If he’s actually known at all, it can’t be by much more than one or two tiny towns. 

“Sure you will,” the man smiles, leans forward into Johnny’s space and tightens his grip on his ankle. “I’ll call you whatever I want, too - mate, puppy, mutt, bitch, hole, fucktoy…”

Johnny’s sure steam must be coming out of his ears as he pulls his leg back and kicks the bear - Simon - solidly in the chest. It doesn’t even make him flinch, and Johnny only manages to frustrate himself more, ears straight up in his anger. “Oi, fuck you! I’m a fucking person, not just some thing for you to take and keep, you big bastard!”

“Take and keep and fuck,” Simon corrects, the grin on his face sharp and mean. He shoves Johnny’s foot out of the way, crawls forward until he can lean both hands on either side of Johnny’s head and block his view of anything else. “Now, what should I call you, hm?”

“Nothin’,” Johnny growls, ducking his head low to avoid being nose-to-nose with the man. He’s so hot in close proximity like this, it’s almost suffocating. “You should let me go.”

“Let you go?” Ghost purrs, one hand moving from the wall to Johnny’s neck and stroking the tan skin there. “Out in the cold again? Thought you were lost, pup, you want me to send you out there all alone to find your way back to town? Send my puppy wandering out in the snow?”

“You could give me directions to the nearest town,” Johnny counters, not allowing himself to work up any hope that the bear was doing anything more than playing with him. Still, he can’t help but glance up through his lashes to watch his  expression. It’s mocking, like he’d expected but naively hoped against. He curses himself for the spark of disappointment in his chest.

“Nearest town’s miles away. I’m not makin’ that trip just to get rid of my pretty new mate.” Ghost ducks his head down, burying his nose in Johnny’s mohawk in between his ears and breathing deeply. “No, I’m gonna keep you right here with me. You’ll be just fine.”

Johnny can’t help but shudder. In this position - bent in half, legs folded up to his chest, big naked behemoth of a man covering him - he feels oddly submissive and vulnerable in a way he usually doesn’t. It’s been a while since he wasn’t one of the top dogs in a pack, and he finds he deeply dislikes being lower on the totem pole. He has to fight the urge to tuck his tail, only really managing to resist the urge because it’s trapped beneath his body.

“You don’t even know me,” he tries to argue, fighting back a flinch when the face against his head moves down to his cheek, hot breath gusting over his face.

“That can come later. Why don’t you start by telling me your name, huh pup?”

He doesn’t want to. Giving Simon his name, obeying his command, feels too much like giving in for his comfort. But the other names he’d used… mutt, bitch, fucktoy… he has to fight back another shudder at the thought of being called any of those words again.

“Johnny,” he finally says, voice hardly more than a whisper in the shadowy cave.

“Johnny,” the bear repeats, voice dropping lower and rumbling through the side of Johnny’s head. “That’s good, puppy. Good boy for listenin’.”

He just barely manages to trap a whine in his throat, eyes squeezing shut for a moment at the praise. 

“Now,” Simon continues, finally leaning back and nudging Johnny’s chin up with the hand not against the cave wall. “Let’s get the rest of these clothes off, hm?”

“No,” Johnny grunts when both of Ghost’s hands drop to the laces of his pants and make quick work of loosening them. “I don’t- stop, you can’t-”

His words go ignored and his thick pants are pulled down quickly, left abandoned to Simon’s side as he then starts on pulling the arctic bib the rest of the way.

The only things left to cover him now are the long underwear and shirt, but he already feels naked. Johnny forces himself to start fighting again, trying to push at Ghost’s shoulders and keep him away. His tail wraps tight around his thigh, fur rising in fear.

“No,” Ghost scolds, catching both of Johnny’s hands in his and holding them still. His glare is stern, but not mean like it had been earlier. “Stop struggling, pup. Let your mate do what he wants.”

“No,” Johnny protests, his voice weaker than it was before. “I don’t want you to touch me, just… just let me be, okay? I’ll find my way to town on my own, you don’t even have to give me directions!”

Ghost sighs, shifting both of Johnny’s wrists to one hand and cupping his throat with the other. “Johnny,” he rumbles, thumb stroking over his pounding heartbeat. “How many times do I have to say it? There’s no point in fightin’ me like this. You’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna stay in my den, let me fuck you, and I’ll take good care of you.”

Johnny can’t help but whine a little, unable to break eye contact with Simon. “I don’t want to.”

“I know,” Ghost hums. “But you will. And you’ll see how good it can be when you behave.”

He lifts his hand enough to pat Johnny’s cheek, seemingly done with the conversation. “Now, no more arguin’ and whinin’. We’ll see if a good dicking helps with your attitude at all, hm?”

Johnny’s never felt quite so much like a doll as he does when Simon removes the rest of his clothes. No matter how much he writhes and complains, he’s still stripped naked and left bare beneath the shifter, struggling limbs held out of the way like they’re nothing more than a slight annoyance.

Ghost hums as he sits back again, takes a long look down Johnny’s body. He tries to cover his groin, self-conscious under the bear’s probing stare, but his hands are caught and held to the side of his body by just one massive paw. 

“No, no,” Ghost chides, tone light despite how secure his hold is. “I wanna see your pretty body, pup. You got nothin’ to hide from me.”

Johnny whines a little at that, squirming as Simon slowly pushes him down to lay flat against the furs. The bear slides one knee between his legs, nudging them wider and leaving his sensitive core open to the air.

“Oh, look’it you,” he coos like he’s seeing something cute, keeping Johnny’s hands pinned as he leans down and noses at Johnny’s stomach, taking big huffing breaths in and slowly making his way lower. “You’re so soft here, pup.” He praises, running his nose over the meat of Johnny’s cunt.

“S-stop,” Johnny whines, hips shifting against the furs to try and move away. “Don’t- don’t touch me.”

“Hush,” Ghost says, leaving a hot kiss where he’d been nosing and ducking a little lower, tracing Johnny’s folds with his nose and breathing in deep. “Let me get to know your pretty pussy, gonna be spendin’ quite a bit of time with her.”

Johnny whines at that, high and loud, echoing against the stone walls. “Not a- not a her.”

“No?” Ghost laughs a little, spreading Johnny’s legs wider and settling himself between them. “She’s pretty like a girl. Pink like a girl. Nice and clean for me like a girl, not furry or messy at all. Let’s see how she tastes.” He laves his tongue, thick and warm and wet, up Johnny’s center from hole to clit. “Yeah, she’s sweet like a girl, too.”

Johnny whines again at that, eyes squeezed shut and a little teary. He can feel sparks of pleasure low in his belly, sharp and unwanted. “Please,” he tries, incapable of much else when Ghost licks a few times at his clit.

“Hm?” The bear rumbles, the noise vibrating through his sensitive nub and straight to his head. Johnny whimpers again. “Please what, pup? Please lick her again? Y’think she wants that?”

He does just that, mimics his movement exactly and adds to the gathering wetness at Johnny’s hole. As much as he fights it, the action feels good and Johnny goes a little boneless against the furs. He keeps his eyes closed, isn’t quite brave enough to look down at Ghost between his legs. His tail falls limp, resting next to him, but his ears stay pinned to his head in fear.

“Y’like that?” Simon rumbles, his thumb stroking over both of Johnny’s wrists slowly. “She sure does. Gonna focus on keeping her happy for a bit, I’ll come back to you later, alright pup?”

He doesn’t wait for Johnny to answer - he doubts he’d have been able to - and instead dives tongue-first into Johnny’s core. It doesn’t take long for Ghost to warm him up, the rhythmic work of his tongue against Johnny’s little cock enough to have him dripping slick in moments. 

He moves a little lower to tongue at Johnny’s hole, thrusts shallowly in and out and scoops any slick he can into his own mouth. Johnny’s reduced to just a moaning thing beneath him, hips writhing as his body and mind war between the urge to get closer and further at the same time. Ghost’s nose rubs right against his clit when he works at Johnny’s hole, and the dual stimulation leaves him slack-jawed and moaning.

Ghost’s free hand creeps from his thigh up to his cunt slowly, so slowly that Johnny hardly realizes it’s moving at all until there’s a finger right at his hole. He can’t help but jolt when the finger presses in, the sudden feeling only heightening his arousal. It’s an unexpected stretch - just one of Simon’s fingers is at least as thick as two of Johnny’s.

“Need somethin’ to clench on,” Ghost mumbles, almost to himself more than to Johnny. 

Or, it hits him a moment later, not to Johnny at all. Just to his cunt.

He nearly wails at the realization, the mix of humiliation and the feeling of that finger curling inside of him a cocktail of sensations that has him inching closer and closer to an orgasm.

“There ya go,” Simon soothes, giving his clit languid strokes with his tongue. “We’ll get you off once, then work on stuffin’ you full of me. Attagirl.”

Tears slip down Johnny’s face as another finger slides in, the stretch not quite painful but definitely noticeable. His hips grind down on the intrusion against his own will, the constant flicks against his clit crossing every wire in his brain. His eyes stay closed, the dark a comfort when he feels so untethered.

“Let's find your sweet spot,” Ghost murmurs quietly, his fingers crooking and searching inside of Johnny. The burn of the stretch leaves him mewling, toes curling against the furs. Ghost hums, gives his clit a few sucks to quiet him down a bit, reducing him to just pants.

Then, without warning, Simon’s fingers zero in on Johnny’s g-spot and press.

His back arches automatically, a loud cry tearing from his throat when Ghost only presses harder at his reaction, giving the bundle of nerves heavy rubs and milking Johnny’s pleasure. He wraps his lips around his clit, sucking hard and long.

“There she is,” he rumbles around the nub. His voice vibrates through Johnny, sending him reeling.

“Oh, oh, please- please, please, please, fuck, that’s- oh God-” Johnny babbles, body tense and pleasure ridden as every part of him fights to get away from the overwhelming sensation. Ghost’s fingers don’t let up, the pressure more than Johnny’s ever felt before, and he flicks his tongue over the clit locked between his lips. He’s never felt pleasure like this, has no defenses against the way it ravages his body.

“Fuck- fuck! Simon, please, oh, oh G-God, oh, fuck, fuck…. Please!” Johnny shouts, eyes flying open to stare at the stone ceiling as he’s finally thrown off the precipice he’d been hovering over, pleasure wracking every limb and racing through every nerve. He moans loud enough to echo as his body slowly goes limp against the furs, muscles weak like all of his strength has drained from his cunt.

The pressure against his g-spot slowly eases as Ghost slips his fingers out of him, his lips releasing his clit. The bear sits up and releases his wrists, letting both of his own hands rest against Johnny’s thighs and giving him a few squeezes.

Johnny blinks bleary eyes open, drawn to the bear’s face against his will. The man looks nothing but smug, chin soaked and eyes bright.

“Hey, Johnny,” he breathes, leaning down and moving his hands to rest on either side of Johnny’s head. He hovers right above him, breath ghosting over his face in warm puffs. “That feel good, comin’ for me?”

Johnny makes a little complaining sound, not quite capable of speech yet. His ears flick out to the side, reflecting the weird mix of displeasure and satisfaction he feels.

“Aw,” Ghost clicks his tongue, dips just low enough to press a closed-mouth kiss to Johnny’s lips, unbothered when it’s unreciprocated. “Yeah, I know it did. You taste real sweet, love. Gonna have you for dessert every night.”

Johnny huffs at that, the reference to a future together dragging his brain back down to his body. He doesn’t have a chance to get himself worked up as Ghost keeps pressing kisses to his lips. He shifts a bit every few kisses, decorating his cheeks and chin too. His lips brush nearly every inch of Johnny’s face, leaving him blushing and a little soft.

This- this isn’t so bad. Johnny doesn’t mind the kisses, the warmth and the pleasure. But the idea of Ghost trying to sheath that cock inside of him… just the thought has him whimpering a little, eyebrows furrowing.

“What?” Ghost whispers, lifting himself just enough to meet Johnny’s eyes, bumping their noses together. “What’s got you cryin’ now?”

Johnny inhales deeply, doesn’t feel any better when it shudders into his lungs and whooshes right back out.

“Please,” he tries, voice quiet between the two of them. “Please don’t fuck me.”

Ghost sucks his teeth, his face a horrible mix between smug and condescending. “Aw, puppy,” he shifts his weight, one hand moving to stroke his cheek. He doesn’t do much actual stroking, considering how large his hand is compared to Johnny’s face. “‘Course I’m gonna fuck you. It’s what good mates do, hm? Gotta give you a few cubs.”

Johnny whimpers at that, a little pained sound at the image that conjures.

“No?” Ghost coos, tapping once with his thumb. “You want a litter of pups, then?”

Johnny’s voice cracks on a sob, a horrible hurt sound punching from his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut against the humiliation, turning his head to the side and pressing his face into the furs.

“Aw, pup,” the bear whispers, nose nudging at the cheek available to him. “You’re alright, you’re alright. You’ll like it, promise. I’m not gonna hurt ya, you’ll be taken care of here. Gonna make such a good daddy, I don’t even care if they come out as silly little mutts like you.”

It’s a conscious effort to breathe. His chest hitches on every inhale, and his nose is blocked up from all the crying. His throat burns. He can hardly think.

“Needed a mate for a while now,” Ghost continues, speaking into Johnny’s skin. He alters between kissing and licking, but never leaves more than an inch of space between his lips and Johnny’s head. “Knew it, but there’s no one around any good to raise my cubs. But I think you’ll do well, won’t you?”

“No,” Johnny finally says, voice weak. “No, no, I don’t want… you can’t.”

“You’ll look even prettier,” Ghost continues, heedless of Johnny’s whine. “Round with me and mine, soft and perfect for me. Maybe these will swell up a little.” His hand strays to Johnny’s flat chest, fingers working at his nipple. Little pinches and pulls, a bit of pain that still manages to feel good.

“Stop,” Johnny tries again, tears slipping down his nose again. Every exhale is shaky, a little whimper in his breaths.

“I’ll provide for you, don’t worry.” His fingers massage Johnny’s pec, like he’s trying to coax something out of the nipple. “Take such good care of my mate. Get him whatever he wants, never let him leave…” Ghost’s voice dips so low that it’s near incoherent as he licks broad stripes up the side of Johnny’s face between sentences, words almost slurred. “You’ll be perfect.”

Johnny can’t hold back the sobs anymore, one ripping from his throat against his will and unblocking the dam he’d built in his head. He’s left nearly bawling into the furs, body tense as a bowstring, eyes stinging, ears flat and tail tucked. He can’t even begin to imagine how pathetic he looks.

“Oh, Johnny,” Ghost sighs, a little bit of clarity reentering his voice. “Alright, sweetheart, deep breaths. I think you need a fucking, hm?”

“No-ooo.”

“Hush, you’re alright, A nice cock in your cunt will make you feel better, I promise. Just need to give you what you deserve. On your stomach for me now.”

He’s already halfway there, it doesn’t take much work for Ghost to flip him entirely. He hefts Johnny’s hips up like he’s a doll, settling him so his knees are spread wide but his weight is left on his chest and face, pressed into the furs. He ends up with his face buried in his folded arms, tears dripping down to the floors

“Hips up, puppy, c’mon. Present for me.”

Johnny doesn’t listen but that doesn’t deter Simon from pushing on the small of his back, forcing his hips higher into the air and leaving his holes displayed. Ghost tsks at the way Johnny’s tail is tucked, blocking all of his vulnerable spots. 

“No hiding, now,” he chides, tugging his tail out of the way just roughly enough to make him yelp. Simon holds it by the base, keeps him from tucking it again immediately with a firm grip. “There we go, look how pretty,” Ghost hums, stroking his free hand fully down the split of Johnny’s body, spreading his slick. “Nice and soaked for me.”

“Not-” Johnny hiccups, trying to take a deep breath. “Not my fault.”

There’s a laugh behind him, loud in the small alcove and just patronizing enough to make Johnny’s heart sink even further. “No? I think it is, pup. Who else’s fault would it be?”

“You. Can’t-can’t help it when you keep touchin’ me.”

He knows it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as Ghost rumbles a low, pleased sound. “Can’t help it? Can’t help that you’re so needy, such a slut for my touch?”

Johnny whines, tail flicking nervously in the air.

“Oh, you’re sweet, pup. Real sweet. Your puppycunt just can’t help getting wet for her mate, yeah? She knows who she belongs to, knows ‘m gonna take real good care of her.”

Johnny bites his lip to hold back the whine, his sharp canine digging into the cut Simon left and reopening it. He focuses on the drops of blood dripping to the furs, tries not to think about what Ghost is saying, but it burrows deep into his head. He can feel his cunt twitching, clenching around nothing.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you suffer much longer - what kinda mate would I be if I left you empty when you’re dripping for it? I’ll take care of you, pup, just relax.”

As much as Johnny hates everything that’s happening, hates everything that’s brought him to this moment, he can’t help but feel the tiniest bit grateful when Ghost slips two fingers into him instead of his cock. He’s still not sure he’ll be able to take it, but if Ghost is going to make him… he’s at least glad for the stretch.

Simon rubs one hand over the curve of his ass while the other scissors two fingers inside of him, his goal to stretch instead of getting Johnny off. It doesn’t make much of a difference for him, he still can’t help but rock his hips against the bear’s hand, unable to resist more of the heady pleasure.

Ghost laughs over his shoulder. “Need it that bad, huh? Be patient, Johnny. Just gotta wait a little longer.”

He whines into his arms, eyes squeezed shut. Even he’s not sure if he’s whining for more or less, but he can’t let himself think about it. He unintentionally sinks into a deeper arch, leaning more weight on his knees and spreading his cunt further, baring himself more for Ghost.

“Good boy. Just relax for me, I’ve got you, pup.”

He slips a third finger in and Johnny tries to breathe through the stretch, just barely managing to keep from moaning. The tang of blood on his tongue is a good distraction, but not enough to keep him from panting like he’s run a marathon. He can’t help it, Ghost’s fingers feel good in a way no one else ever has. He can’t imagine what his cock will feel like, barely managing to hold back a shiver at the thought.

Eventually, Ghost pulls his fingers out of Johnny. There’s an almost obnoxiously loud sucking sound, and a pleased rumble from Ghost as his free hand moves to stroke the base of Johnny’s tail softly, leaving him squirming.

“Taste so good, pup. Can’t believe I got so lucky with you.”

Johnny whimpers, shifting his weight from side to side to try and ease the slight ache in his knees. It doesn’t occur to him until he hears Simon moan that he’s literally waving his holes in front of the man’s face. 

“Hungry fuckin’ bitch,” Ghost nearly snarls, voice pitching lower. “Need cock so bad, don’t you? Need your puppycunt filled? Huh?”

He lands a heavy slap on Johnny's backside and he can’t help but cry out at the sudden flare of pain, the sting quickly fading into a burning that travels right to his clit. He whines, lifting his head just enough to glare over his shoulder.

Simon looks nearly as wrecked as Johnny feels - his cheeks are flushed and his chest heaves, panting breaths audible in the otherwise silent cave. He’s got a hunger in his eyes that makes Johnny shiver, makes his tail twitch to tuck between his legs again.

“Nuh-uh,” Ghost scolds, gripping the appendage and yanking with just enough force to make Johnny yelp. He instinctually claws at the furs, lifting himself up to try and pull away from the sharp pain at the base of his spine. “What did I say about hiding, huh? Can’t fuck you if you’re tuckin’ your tail, pup.”

“That’s- that’s why-” Johnny tries to argue, teeth gritted, but he’s cut-off by a series of blows, forcing him further into the furs to try and escape the blooming pain. He makes a humiliating sound somewhere between a snarl of rage and a whine of pain, eyes flying wide open.

“That’s why what?” Ghost growls, landing a smack across the center of his ass, nearly clipping his soaked folds. “That’s why you’re doin’ it? Then why are you moanin’ like a whore, huh? Your hole’s dripping, Johnny, you’re gonna stain my furs and you want me to think you don’t want it?”

Johnny can’t speak, can only make choked, pained sounds as Simon continues his barrage. His hand is so big compared to Johnny, he covers nearly his entire ass on every spank. Johnny wants to roll over, wants to tuck his tail and show his stomach, but he knows that would only make everything worse.

“I’ve been real lenient with you, let you sit there doin’ nothing but bitchin’ and moanin’, but my patience isn’t endless, Johnny.” Simon grips his flaming cheek, digging his nails into the irritated skin and drawing a high whine from the smaller man. “All you have to do is lay still and let me fuck a little into you, and you can’t even do that right?” He scoffs, lands another blow against the meat of Johnny’s ass.

“I’m-” Johnny gasps, burying his face into the furs. “I can’t- fuck, stop!”

“Why should I? You’re still soaked, mutt. Doesn’t seem to matter much to your cunt if I’m wailin’ on you or pettin’ you. This what you need to start being sweet for me? Huh?” He reddens Johnny’s ass on nearly every word, leaving him wiggling in place and trying to crawl away. The hand anchored around the base of his tail is the only thing keeping him within arms reach, and the sharp pain leaves tears leaking down Johnny’s cheeks. “Need me to be mean for you to learn your manners, is that it?”

“No-no!” Johnny manages to get out between whines. He tries to breathe through the pain, but Simon layers his smacks in just the right spot to hit a tender area on every impact, and the effect leaves Johnny wanting to scream.

“Then where are they, huh? I’ve been good to you - stretched you out, ate your little cunt, even got you off. Didn’t get any thanks, did I?”

His palm shifts lower, focusing on the crease where Johnny’s thighs meet his ass. Simon’s fingers clip his folds on nearly every smack, leaving Johnny jolting around to try and get away and yelping at the pain.

It takes him a minute to get what Ghost’s asking for, but once he understands he doesn’t hesitate to give it. He can’t even bring himself to care about the humiliation of it all, only wants the pain to stop.

“Th-thank you!” He nearly shouts, eyes squeezed shut against the pain, ears pressed so tight to his skull that they nearly ache. “I’m sorry, so sorry, I just- fuck, please! Thank-thank you, thank you!”

“There you go,” Ghost rumbles, his hand immediately switching from smacking to rubbing across the whole of Johnny’s backside, shushing his whine. “Was that so hard?”

Johnny keens loudly, shoulders shaking as he tries to hold back his sobs.

“We’ll make a good boy out of you yet. C’mon now, back up on your knees.” Ghost slips a hand between his thighs, pushing Johnny’s stomach up and simultaneously tugging on his tail to urge him back into his position. He goes with minimal struggling, far too raw to fight anymore, left only with the instinct to avoid anything that could get him in more trouble with the bear

“There you go, attaboy,” Ghost praises, finally releasing Johnny’s tail and laying it across his back. “Bein’ good for me now, huh? Thought you mighta had a little more fight in you, Johnny.”

There’s a part of him that growls at that, that snarls and bites and proves that he does have more fight, that he’s not easy prey. But the larger part recognizes a stronger predator when it sees one, and urges Johnny to listen. That’s the voice that wins out, and he whines when Ghost laughs.

“Still wet for me, huh? Such a good mate, Johnny. Gonna give you a reward for learning, alright? Hush, pup, don’t whine. It’ll be good, I promise.”

Johnny sniffles, rubbing his nose into the furs beneath him. He whimpers when he feels something hot press against his hole, knows that it can only be Ghost’s cock.

“Be good,” Ghost says, then slowly begins to force his way inside.

Johnny feels like he’s being broken, like he’s being cleaved down the middle. He moans lowly, more pain than pleasure now as the stretch begins to hurt. He wants to crawl away, wants to dig his claws into fur and stone until he escapes the incessant push of Simon inside of him.

The bear moans loudly behind him, voice echoing through the cave as his head pops fully inside. “Fuck.”

More tears slip down Johnny’s cheeks. The push is endless, a constant pressure against his hole, the cock pushing into parts of him nothing’s ever touched. He throbs with need, his clit almost burning from neglect. He just barely manages to keep himself from reaching down, some last part of him clinging to what little dignity he has left.

“T-tight,” Ghost grunts, hips bucking forward with just enough force to make Johnny shout and push up from the furs at the shock of pain. “Fuck, you’re fine pup, get back down.”

Johnny whines at the command, but obeys when a heavy hand lands between his shoulder blades.

“There you go, good boy. Just… fuck, squeezing me so tight. Just let me fuck you, alright? I’ll get you off too, just gotta… just gotta be patient f’r me.”

Johnny’s hardly able to understand what Simon is saying, most of the words fluttering in one ear and out the other. He’s too focused on the invasion of his body, the internal betrayal as he only grows more wet between the thighs. He can feel himself fluttering around Ghost, both of them moaning every time he clenches down on the thick shaft against his will. 

Finally, mercifully, Simon bottoms out. His balls are hard against Johnny’s cock, but they feel perfect when Ghost grinds himself deep, the head of his cock nudging Johnny’s cervix. He yelps at the first hint of pain, jerking in the furs.

“Shh, shh…” Ghost soothes, stroking down Johnny’s spine in long, slow motions. “You’re alright, deep breaths, pup. I know, it’s a lot of cock for a little thing like you isn’t it?”

Johnny whimpers, nodding into the furs.

“Yeah, you’re… fuck, clench like that again, pup, God… you’re so little, huh? Tiny puppycunt hardly big enough for me, that right?”

He pulls his hips back just enough to shove in again, sending Johnny forward a few inches and drawing a high yelp at the sharp spark of pain.

“Shit, how’re you so tight?’ Simon pants, one hand gripping Johnny’s hip hard enough to nearly grind bone. “You clenchin’ down on me cause it hurts? Do I need to hit you some more to keep you tight for me, puppy?”

Johnny shakes his head as best he can, just barely managing to choke out a  “N-no!” as Ghost starts to find a slow rhythm, rocking in and out of his body. 

He hums, like he doesn’t quite believe Johnny, but he gives him a warm and solid squeeze to the nape of his neck, and he doesn’t hit him again. Johnny tries to breathe a sigh of relief, but he chokes on it as Ghost bottoms out again.

It doesn’t get any easier to bear. Johnny can never fully catch his breath, not if Ghost is pulling out to just the tip and thrusting back in on one fast plunge, and not if he’s just grinding himself right against Johnny’s cervix. It’s like he’s lost control of his lungs like his heart - both erratic, both making him feel like a struggling prey animal, even as he’s limp beneath Simon.

The bear is all but silent, for all of his horrible words before. Johnny would call it a mercy, but the way his fat cock bullies endlessly into his cunt could never be merciful, even in the near-silence. Johnny’s sure Simon doesn’t even know how to be merciful, not with the way he speaks, the way he takes.

Johnny can’t bring himself to be silent, though. He hates it, but the sounds are forced out of him on every thrust. Horrible, cock hungry moans, whorish whines, yipping noises that sound like they’re coming from the wrong form. His face flames, tears streaking down his cheeks, but he can’t hold anything in.

He feels unspooled beneath Ghost. Like the man had taken one look at him, found all his loose strings, and just plucked and pulled until he came completely undone. Johnny would hate him if it didn’t feel so good, but his mind works against him when it’s so overloaded.

With a hand clamped on Johnny’s nape and the other on his hip, Simon fucks him with a vigor that feels impossible - impossible to bear, and impossible to keep up with. His own drool smears against his cheek when it’s pressed into the furs, unable to do anything but take what Ghost gives.

Simon eventually finds a rhythm that allows him to pull nearly completely out and bury himself back to the hilt on every thrust, leaning what has to be most of his body weight against Johnny’s nape to keep himself at the right angle to nudge his cervix again and again.

It hurts - the stretch, the drag of his cock against slick walls, the sharp shocks on every thrust - but the pain only makes it better. Johnny can’t help but moan, humping the air in his best attempt to push Ghost for more.

“So good, puppy,” he moans, pace quickening. The slap-slap-slap of skin is audible, Johnny’s wetness only making everything sound more crass. “So tiny for me, squeezin’ around your mate’s cock so good… gonna make you feel so good, give you a reward for keepin’ yourself tight.”

Johnny’s whine is high, needy, and a distant part of him hates it but the present part is too wrapped up in the promise of feeling good to care.

“My good, tight girl. Didn’t let anyone else fuck you, huh? You a virgin, baby?”

He’s not - far from it, actually - but Ghost doesn’t answer and moans at whatever image he’s conjured in his head.

“Stay… oh fuck, stayed fresh for me? Didn’t let any other men make your cunt loose, did’ya? No, no,” he’s panting, his pace so quick, so hard, that Johnny would almost be convinced he was using a toy if not for his audible exertion. “No, my girl stayed nice and tight for me. She doesn’t have a sloppy cunt, not my mate.”

Johnny sobs at the shift of pronouns, the feminization. He feels something rise in him, a heat that comes from deep inside and feels like it might burn him up entirely. Johnny hopes it does, hopes it consumes him for long enough to forget what’s happening, what’s happened.

“She’s gonna…” he trails off into a snarl, biting roughly at Johnny’s shoulder before pulling back at his shout. “She’s gonna carry my cubs, take such good care of them. Keep my cum warm, then keep my babies warm… so good, gonna be so… fuck, puppy, I can’t… you’re too fucking good, can’t…” he huffs, trailing off into pure animal noises, growls and snarls the vibrate through Johnny’s spine.

Simon shifts a little on his knees, making his cock drive further up into Johnny’s channel and drawing a moan that sounds more like a scream from him. After that, it’s hardly any time at all before he’s coming.

Ghost’s orgasm is loud, something uninhibited and almost proud in the sounds he makes. Johnny can feel the hot cum spurting inside of him, feel it covering his insides. The few final erratic thrusts he gets are just enough for him to reach the peak too, that fire finally coming up to coat every limb, every nerve of his body. His ears fold over, flopping to the front of his head, and his tail falls limp to the side of his body.

He sinks into it eagerly, desperate to drown his brain in everything good to try and block out the bad. It works, and he’s left feeling like nothing but a brainless toy as Ghost shudders through the final vestiges of his own orgasm. Johnny lays boneless, riding the waves of euphoria and milking Simon’s cock slowly, trying to draw every drop of pleasure from the bear he can, trying to keep himself in this moment.

But it has to end, and Ghost’s breathing slowly evens out as he softens inside of Johnny. He can’t tell if it’s his own wetness or Simon’s come dripping from his hole, and he can’t work up the energy to care either.

“That was perfect, Johnny,” Ghost praises, his hand trembling just the slightest bit as he shifts from holding the smaller man down to stroking his spine again. “You were perfect, so good for me. My good boy. My pretty mate.”

Johnny whines, but even he can’t tell what the sound is supposed to mean. Later he’ll insist it was upset, displeasure but it sounds more like appreciation.

“You tired, puppy?”

He nods as best he can, unintentionally rubbing his face into his own spit and blood.

“Alright, you can nap. You’ve earned it, Johnny.”

Ghost tips him to the side with a soft grip on his ribs, keeping himself firmly lodged within Johnny and pulling his back to his chest. They’re left spooning, Simon’s back to then entrance of the cave and both of them pressed so tightly together than Johnny’s not sure they’ll ever be able to pull apart.

“Relax now,” Simon rumbles, one hand wrapping beneath Johnny’s head to let him use as a pillow and the other tucked around his waist, holding him close. He buries his nose in Johnny’s mohawk, and Johnny can feel his ears pressing against the bear’s cheeks. “We’ll figure everything else out later.”

Johnny shifts, wincing at the squeeze to his stomach and the weight still resting inside of him. “Can you…?”

Ghost grunts a low, disapproving sound. “No. Gotta keep you plugged up, make sure it takes.”

If he had any tears left, Johnny might cry again. But he’s drained, emotionally and physically exhausted from all the day’s trauma, and he’s got nothing left to give.

So he sinks into the heat at his back, the solid arms around him. He feels almost shell shocked, staring at the way the shadows dance across the wall with a heavy bear behind him. If it weren’t for the thick cock plugging him up, he’d almost call the scene domestic.

Eventually, the peaceful embrace of sleep welcomes him. He doesn’t try to fight it off, desperate to leave the cave if only in his subconscious mind. 

Against his better knowledge, he can’t help but hope when he next opens his eyes he won’t see the cave at all. He knows it’s bad to hope, knows he’s only setting himself up for disappointment, but… Well, if he pretends the heat surrounding him is from his blankets, that the pleasant scent in the air is his den, not the heavy smell of satisfaction, then that’s his business.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You half smile and half cringe. Oh boy. He wants you to do that. With him there. Well, you never really did it with an audience. You’re more of a loner when it comes to... cumming. 

You let out a brittle chuckle, “sir, that’s... you know, I think I’m pretty good. I got lots of action today--” 

“I’m not asking,” his voice is dusky and makes your chest thump. Wow. Okay, you can see for a split second how he might be attractive. If you just photoshop the caterpillar off his lip with your mind Adobe. 

“I understand but what if I just focused on you, sir. You seem to enjoy that--” 

“Don’t make me repeat myself. It’s getting old. Fast.” 

“Sure, that’s fair, I hate a broken record,” you gulp and look down then back up, squinting as you smile with a strain in your cheeks. “So, like down here or... it’s a bit tight...” you sheepishly show your teeth then laugh for real as the joke bubbles in your mind. You can’t help but let it free, “that’s what she said.” 

He blinks and looks at the ceiling then down again. He sits back in his chair, legs wide, hands on his thighs. 

“Get on the desk,” he orders. 

You inhale and steel yourself. This is a lot. You think you’ve been handling things well. One thing in particular but you don’t know how much more you can take. Today has been intense. What time is it? 

You move forward, once more face to face with his crotch before you manage to plant a foot and stand. His eyes flick down and he hums. You turn slowly and try to see the corner of his screen. Holy, it’s not even three o’clock. 

“What the hell are you looking at?” He snarls. 

“Nothing, sir, promise--” 

“Turn it off.” 

You should say the same thing about his dick. You keep your mouth closed and press the button to black the monitor. You put your hands on the desk and carefully slide his delicate keyboard and mouse aside. They’re so light you nearly toss them. You shake your head. 

“What?” He sneers. 

“It’s just, sir, Apple products are made to break. This keyboard feels like a wafer.” 

“This isn’t what we’re doing right now. Focus.” 

“I’m focused,” you whine and consider the desk. This glass better be sturdy. 

You lift one knee, then the other. You don’t like this. It's like crossing ice; tenuous and just as cold. He clicks his tongue. 

“You know, you don’t got a bad ass considering,” he mutters. 

You should thank him. It’s a real compliment. All those squats you do when the shop slows down are paying off. You’re too frazzled to do much more than turn over and sit facing him. As hot as this might seem in his head, the logistics are not easy. Or safe. 

You glance around and frown, “sir, what if I break--” 

“You keep talking, and I’ll break something on you,” he swivels the chair slightly as his hand crawls up his pantleg. 

“Got it, okay, so...” you bend your legs, putting your feet on the glass and wiggles your toes.  

You slowly pull your thighs apart. You tremble as the cool air slips between them and grazes your cunt. Your ears are burning and your skull is pounding. You’re dizzy. This desk is really high up. You could fall and crack your head open. 

“Take your fucking time,” he growls. 

“Sir, I got a bit of stage fright here,” you squeak, “I never really... you know, in front of someone.” 

“No use being shy when you had me down your throat twice today,” he reprimands. 

“Fair,” you tilts your head, “that’s a good point.” You look down at your body and reach down between your legs. You blow out between your lips, almost whistling as some of the tension seeps out. “That’s helpful advice, actually.” 

He sighs and you seal your lips. You nod and close your eyes. You can do this. How many times have you done this? Well, maybe you shouldn’t be proud of that.  

You feel down your tummy and along your pelvis. Goosebumps rise and you shiver, leaning back on your other hands as your feet arch against the edge of the desk. You feel along your coily hair and delve between your tender folds. You’re wet but that’s better than the alternative. You’d rather this not last forever. 

You press down on your clit and take a deep breath. You let it out slow as you trace the sensitive bud and hum. Alright, gotta get the rhythm. You’re thinking too much. Stop that. 

Wait, no. You need to think. You need to picture something. This is too much pressure. Knowing he’s watching you, you have to think of anything else. Of someone. Someone sexy. You gotta get the motor going. 

You ease back onto your elbow as the heat begins to flow. You picture this burly guy you saw down at the sandwich shop. You don’t quite have the clear picture of him but he was tall and thick and he had some nice eyes. He also looks pretty grumpy but he could probably channel that energy into some good hip action. 

Okay, back to the point. You put together the fantasy; thick arms, hairy chest, throaty grunts, and a big... yeah. That’s it. Your fingers swirl faster, slippery as your excitement builds. You moan and tilt your head back. You’re almost there. 

You flick your fingers up and down, your thighs quivering. You gotta give this guy a name. Something sexy. Gene? No, ew, that’s not it. Hm. Oh, yes, Adam? The first man. The epitome of maleness. 

You squeak as your breath hitches and your lashes flutter. Your toes curl and you put your head forward as the tension winds tight and all at once, unleashes. You quake and drone out madly, head lolling as you fight to keep your fingers moving. You feel your orgasm flowing from you, wetting your cunt and the creases of your thighs. Fuck... 

Suddenly, your land on your back. The glass braces and you wait for a crack. Lloyd pins you by your neck. He swats your hand away from your cunt and frames your entrance with two long fingers. He drags them up, rubbing your buzzing clit as you squirm. 

“Oh, Adam,” you burst out and your eyes snap open in horror. You didn’t mean to let that out. 

“Adam?” He growls as he stops, squeezing your throat tighter, “who the fuck is Adam?” 

You touch his wrist, “I meant... Floyd?” 

[tiyoin]

So I personally like to imagine that their eyesight is kinda poor. Mainly because it’s darker under water than above, yknow? But their other senses like hearing and smell are twice as good. What do you think? (I wanted to tell someone but I didn’t know who but I love your version of them so I figured why not!)

i’ve been hoarding this post like a dragon for far too long

AND TYSM FOR SHARING WITH ME!!! I LOVE IT MEAH MWAH

i immediately thought of them waking up at butt fuck whenever because you accidentally woke them up when you were going to use the bathroom. and they try to look for you but because of the darkness of the room, them literally just waking up, and their shitty human eyes-

EEP!! them reaching over for you but all they’re met with is a warm, empty comforter 😿😿

i wasss gonna make that into another post but i couldn’t think of anything else and really liked it 🙈

i immediately thought of them waking up at butt fuck whenever because you accidentally woke them up when you were going to use the bathroom

EEP!! them reaching over for you but all they’re met with is a warm, empty comforter 😿😿

i’m imaging floyd sleeping star fish (you were originally curled in at his side) and he’s all moany groany cause 1. you woke him up 2. YOURE NOT WHERE YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE- GET YO ASS OVER HERE

i can imagine him bleary eyed waking up and squinting, trying to look for you through the crusties in his eyes- but that doesn’t work because all he sees is nothing. at most he sees a horribly mangled mosaic of blues on the wall that would normally make anyone nauseous. but to the eel, it felt just like home.

JVIALELF IMAGINE HIM SHOOTING UP WHEN HE SEES YOU CAUSE HE DOESNT RECOGNIZE YOU THROUGH HIS SLEEPY HAZE BAHAHS. all it takes is a little ‘floyd?’ for him to chillax and sink back into bed. groaning about… whatever.

you can faintly hear a ‘what time is it’ from your boyfriend, his voice a lower timbre than his usual higher crow. you laugh softly, clearing you throat gently as you give him some made up time. it seems to satiate the male though as he slowly sinks back down into messy covers.

one hand raises to cover his eyes and his other hand slowly raises like the dead until your warm human flesh meets his cold merman hand, prompting him to you back into bed. where you belong this time he’ll make sure you don’t escape 😉

and the LOML JADEEE

he definitely starts off all prim and proper when sleeping. you know the saying ‘snug like a bug in a rug?’ that’s jade (i want him to wear a sleep cap but i don’t think he does unfortunately 😔)

i can imagine jade slowly shifting his position to sleeping on his stomach. some how he still manages to keep a tight grip on you like a handlebar in a roller coaster, so it takes some squirming to get out of the eel’s iron clad grip.

but nonetheless you quietly patter over to the bathroom

oh boy goes jade have a mean look on his face cause 1. never wake a sleeping eel, especially jade and 2. whys the bed exactly ___ pounds lighter 🤨

i think jade is more of a light sleeper than floyd so the moment the door to his dorm closes he’s peeling his golden eye open while softly kicking his leg (phantom movement cause he was trying to kick his tail 🙈)

i can imagine jade actually growling when he realizes you’re not there. refusing to get up, jade turns his head towards the door as he tries to make out the shapes of his room. but to no luck cause everything is just pitch black.

he’s waiting, sinking himself in deeper to the bed as he opens his other eye. just in time, the door creaks open and the light from the hallways splits through the opened door.

softly, you tip toe in and close the door.

alls fine and well until your in arms length of the bed, silently celebrating on not waking up your boyfriend until a cold, deathly hand seizes your shoulder and drags you into the cavern of blankets and pillows.

jades now on his side glaring,,, squinting? as he puts an arm around you with a low throaty grunt. once your nestled in his arms to his exact liking, the eel will slip back to sleep- he’s a liar, i’m a liar.

both of the twins don’t fall asleep immediately. even though they’re both blind as a bat they’re listening. listening to the slowing of your breathe with their grey eye peeled open.

they’re feeling the once rapid fire of your heart even out into a steady rhythm of beats.

it’s not until you’re dead asleep do they both shift your position slowly, lazily onto their chest. legs intertwined with yours and strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist, like a child hugging a stuffed animal, afraid of the deep shadows that linger in the corners of their room.

not until they’re certain you’re not getting up and out of their poor eyesight do their muscle relax and bodies sink into the mattress, ready to slip off into dream land with their little shrimpy🤭

[lovetei]

Okay so, someone headcanon that Lucifer interact with Cerberus very seriously like no baby talk or any normal petowners behaviour…? This is actually kinda canon now? In the recent Lucifer’s card. He be trying to get his lepus doing smth by acting like they’re business partners and the lepus keeps electrocuting him in the progress lol.

And just imagine MC being the lovely troublemaker they are keep sneaking in the underground tomb to see Cerberus to give him belly rubs, snacks and all of the things Lucifer didn’t do because MC feels bad cuz Cerberus can’t experience all the “good boys stuff” he deserves

Then one day, Cerberus just break out and just running around the house to find MC cuz they forgot to give Cerberus his daily without Lucifer knowing snacks, and daily cuddle too! What a crime. How would the bros react to that?

I was surprised Fluff and crack dominated the poll I created last post 😭

But this cute as hell.

I'm back on my long post era :b

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

MC who thinks Cerberus is just a giant puppy that deserves love cause he's a good boy

Warnings: Grammar errors, spelling errors, long post, Mentions of starving, Mentions of eye bags, Mentions of some real threats

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

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LUCIFER:

He's a very serious pet owner

He doesn't punish his pet though, no fasting or whips just some soft scolding and lecturing

On the other hand, there's you who as a pet fever, always hyperventilating when you see Cerberus

He figured that you might turn his stoic and monstrous three headed dog into some giant puppy

So he made sure that he adds one more barrier, specifically preventing you from entering the tomb

But guess what? You're the shit.

Ain't no barrier gonna stop you.

So you sneak out late at night while struggling to hold all the large sized snacks you starved yourself to get your hands on just make Cerberus feel like the good boy he is.

Of course, Lucifer noticed this but he's not really sure and he does not want to confront you about this.

Like, what if you're not actually going to the tomb to pet and give Cerberus belly rubs? He'll look like a fool.

But it just kept getting worse.

The eyebags around your eyes

And how Cerberus gets more and more whiney

What the fuck is on about you two

So as a punishment, he decided to give you a break (Wow)

You're not allowed to leave your room until the dark circles under your eyes disappear.

And to his surprise, and prediction, Cerberus managed to break out of the magic he applied on the tomb that prevents him fron going out without his permission

He's both disspointed and proud.

Disspointed because his dog is disobeying and proud because his dog is actually really strong.

And as to his guesses, he ran up straight to the HOL and broke the door open.

And just like in those movies

You guys met halfway and life dramatically cried out as if Lucifer prevented two lovers from meeting each other.

He's just standing on the background like :l

Cause he expected this much.

MAMMON:

He liked the dog don't get him wrong

It's just that, he's not as crazy as you are about them

Plus that three headed tree pisser tried to kill him multiple times

And he's NOT happy about it

It's not like he can get any time to bond with the dog too since Lucifer is keeping a tight leash on him both literally and figuratively.

That might stop him

But not you

As your first man, he already know you're up to something the moment he saw you, through his crows, carrying large sizes of food, now human food, dog food.

He also knows that you're someone who don't actually want someone to know about this little secret of yours

So he just kept quite and stood at the bay

Watching you sneak around the house, trying to get to the tomb by yourself

Who knows? Something might go wrong and he needs to be by your side to save you as your babysitter and as your first man.

He started getting worried as soon as he saw those eye bags though

So he admitted that he knows what you're up to and suggested that you stop

You got mad

Of course

He knew it

He snitched on you by the way

He didn't straight up told Lucifer that you're going out to meet Cerberus

He just pointed out that you have like the worse eye bags ever and subtly said that you might be on some late night rendezvous.

He's glad that Lucifer gave you that time out.

He's sorry for snitching on you too but your health comes first before some belly rubs and dog treats.

When he heard the door of HOL crashing down though

He knew damn well who it was

He actually opened (broke) the door for you.

LEVIATHAN:

He's not that much of a dog person

More on reptiles and amphibians

But he understands why you're all crazy about dogs

I mean it's a common thing among humans right?

He's pretty sure Lucifer won't let you near Cerberus though since all about the string, guard dogs type while you're all down for cutesy belly rubs and treats.

Then one night, when he's about to get water after playing video games all night he saw you

Sneaking out

And he thought "What if MC actually have a hidden identity like in those anime?! That would be so cool!"

And so he followed you

And saw Mammon following you too

Mammon explained what's happening to him.

He's actually surprised you would go this far.

He started following you every night too of course

Even though he knows that you can knock out Cerberus with a single hit if you're actually serious

He even started watching anime about dogs and reading managas about them too then recommending them to you

He just loves the expression you make when you're so excited and your heart is melting because of the cute illustrations.

Wait

Is Mammon snitching?! On you?!

He's surprised cause, what the fuck, he's actually the last person he thought will snitch on you

It's understandable though, 'cause he's actually near on doing the same.

He's just glad that you got mad on Mammon instead of him

So you got your rest and you're not mad at him, it's a win win for him.

He also got to record the whole dramatic reunion between you and Cerberus.

SATAN:

He's a cat person

He can barely care

About Lucifer and his pet

But if it's you then... Maybe he can bare with it.

He just loves how you look at dogs like how he looks at cats.

You guys really are soul mates.

But why would you starve yourself for dog foods..?

He got a little mad because of it but he knows you just love Cerberus so much

And that you want to treat him like the good puppy he is because the so good Lucifer FAILED to do so.

He knows you're sneaking in and out of HOL to go in the tomb and meet Cerberus

He applied a few spells that made you seem more approachable to animals and be more sneaky without you knowing too.

But his guts are just telling him to close this book and follow you.

And so he did.

And he saw not one,

But two of his brothers trying to act sneaky and following you down to the tomb you knowing

He didn't expect this to be honest

He thought Mammon would be too dumb to find out and Levi will be watching too many animes and play too many games to even notice.

But he guess he underestimated their feelings for you

That doesn't mean his is in any way less than them though

That's why he's here

Although he knows that Lucifer would find out sooner or later

He didn't expect Mammon to be dropping hints when you're his absolute partner in crimes

What a traitor

He would've killed him and fed him to his crows if he did that to him.

But he knows that Mammon is just as worried as he is

Plus he knows to himself that he will be telling you to Lucifer if this gets any worse.

So he is really no better than Mammon

Putting you on some sort of time out and forcing you to rest is a good way of punishment, he expected it, Lucifer spoiling you.

But Cerberus barging in the HOL is not something he thought would happen.

He knows how disciplined Cerberus is, he's Lucifer's pet after all.

He also thought the dramatic meeting was cute and he chuckled a bit.

ASMODEUS:

Oh... Dogs?

He doesn't like stray fur on his clothes though...

But he guess he can understand you.

Cerberus is indeed one big, fluffy dog after all.

Despite being locked down inside the tomb

Cerberus is actually squeaky clean and always smells good.

He's one of the dogs Asmo will be okay being close to.

He can understand you buying him treats and sneak one or a couple of times

But sneaking out in the middle of the night just to give him treats and belly rubs?

Even starving yourself to buy him food is outrageous

You could've asked him for help, he has all these money from modeling just rotting away

Waiting to get spend on some shoes and pearls.

Like Mammon, he dropped subtle hints, commenting on your eye bags but Lucifer seems to not take him seriously as he thinks that Asmo points out even the slightest difference.

He's dissapointed, he means, it's your health on the line here!

So he resorted into confronting you

He thought that maybe following you to your late night sneak outs and pretending to catch you will work

He didn't expect Mammon, Levi and Satan following you too though

He's looking at them all shock cause what the fuck?

And then when he's about to scream Satan just pulled him and covered his mouth with his hand.

When you're about to leave though, he tried to break free from Satan's grasp and proceed with his plans but instead earned shushes from everyone.

Out of all people

He didn't expect Mammon to snitch on you

He actually thought that Cerberus snitching on you is higher than Mammon telling you on.

But he's glad to hear that you're under house arrest and is prohibited from tiring yourself

You really need this rest, honey.

He's one of the people that took care of you that day, actually.

He painted your nairs and gave you a spa day inside the bathroom.

And then he heard a loud crash

He just rolled his eyes and stopped fanning your wet finger nails and just let you run out of the room

He must confess he thinks the reunion is dramatic but it was cute

All the heads of Cerberus whining and crying

But your nails dear!

BEELZEBUB:

Beel loves Cerberus too!

It's just sad that Lucifer won't leg him take care of him as much as he wants to

Cerberus' main job is to protect the tomb where their grimoires are located at so he understands why.

Lucifer doesn't want Cerberus to end up all cutesy greeting each 'visitor' that enters the tomb like he's friends with them

He want Cerberus to not even think twice and attack anyone who would enter the tomb except Lucifer himself.

But aside Lucifer, Beel is the second most close to Cerberus as he's the one that take him to walks most of the time

And when he found out that you like dogs too

Specifically Cerberus

He looked at you with obvious adoration in his eyes

Cause, finally, someone can get him

He wants to treat Cerberus like a good boy too almost just as much as you but Lucifer won't let him

But you have a plan?!

Wait, why are you starving yourself..?

That's bad...

If you just want to buy Cerberus dog food and treats you can use his money

But why do you insist that you want to buy his food yourself?

By what money? The money you got from starving yourself?

He knows he can't stop you though

So he just cooked extra portions when he's on duty and insisted that you share foods with him

So, problem number one solved

But now there's another problem

And it's you sneaking out late at night just to feed Cerberus!

Look at yourself MC!

You barely get any sleep!

He actually decided to start feeding Cerberus himself after he saw the dark circles under your eyes

But after he saw Mammon, Levi, Satan and Asmo hiding behind a big rock he already knows he's late and that you're in the tomb again

When Asmo tried to go out and confront you though

His heart dropped

Cause "What if MC thought were stalkers?!" "MC will think we're controlling!"

Though, Mammon snitching on you is something he expected

People might think that he'll die loyal and never snitch on you but he knows better than that

He knows that Mammon will put your health above everything and would snitch if needed

For him, house arrest is a light and well thought punishment

He doesn't know why you need to receive it though

He means, you did nothing wrong, you just feed and play with the dog

He thinks the dramatic meet up is cute too!

He's standing on the background looking like ^^

BELPHEGOR:

He likes Cerberus

He has fluffy fur and would carry him when their together

He's unbelievably large too so he's like a giant, moving bed for Belphie

And he understand why you would go crazy over Cerberus

He is indeed one of a kind considering how he has three heads

But he can't understand why you would go through such lengths just to play with the dog

Don't get him wrong, he knows that you like Cerberus and sees him as a giant puppy

But Cerberus guards their grimoire and that grimoire is very important to them

So he's also one of the people that actually prevents you from going in the tomb to play with the hell hound

Lucifer trained them to be a strict guard dog for a reason

And he knows it and it's for his own good too

Though, he knows his explanations won't stop you considering how you're starving yourself to buy him dog food and toys

And even wake up late at night just to sneak out and give it to Cerberus

He wants to protect you of course

Cerberus is still a hell hound that's above thrice your size

So he did the unthinkable and stayed up late

Wanting to spy on you

He saw you sneaking your way down the hallway and so he decided to follow you

And then he saw them

Not Cerberus

But Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and even Beel spying on you too

He guess he underestimated them

He just joined them behind the rock though and rested on Beel's shoulder

He's more assured now since his brothers are watching over you too

But when he heard the sudden rustle made by Asmo trying to struggle to confront you

His eyes shot open and helped Satan on strangling him down

Hell, he almost turned to his demon form

You falling ill is something he's scared of, but you getting mad at him is another

And both are as bad as the other

Actually, the way he glares at Asmo as Satan covers his mouth is terrifying

He might as well just point a knife at his neck at this point

And then the next morning what woke him up is not Lucifer

But the door of their house falling down and creating a loud thud

And is followed by loud howls and whines he knows too well

He's wide awake now and is staring at the two of you, dramatically hugging each other as if Lucifer kept you away from each other for years

Wait

What

Mammon snitched on you?!

Oh... So you've been on an house arrest since earlier this morning and not even a day passed and Cerberus is already running after you?

Wow

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[nadvs]

I love your SWTE series! What about their first night alone after the twins are born!?

thank you so much!! 🥹 oh they def go to a hotel for a little getaway 🤭

based on this fic! 18+!

» au masterlist

it’s months before they finally feel in a good enough place to leave the twins with a close friend. they go over everything with her twice, reminding her not to hesitate to call over any little thing.

the hotel they booked is in the city, only half an hour drive away from home. it gives them both peace of mind knowing they’re close, but they vow to treat it like a vacation.

rafe’s season has been rough. the team just hasn’t been gelling and he’s not so sure about their chances in the play-offs.

it’s been a while since his girlfriend has felt confidence in herself, too. she’s been a stay at home mom, still getting used to the chaos of having twins and to the fact that her body has changed so much.

her relationship with rafe has been mainly focused on parenting. they need a date. desperately.

they get a private room in the restaurant so that they don’t have to deal with being recognized. tonight is about them only.

dinner is a long overdue chance at fun. rafe is reminded of why she became his best friend within months of knowing her all those years ago in college. they talk and laugh and order way too many appetizers.

when they walk into the hotel suite rafe booked after dinner, she’s almost at a loss for words.

“wow,” she breathes.

“you approve?” rafe says. she steps forward to look out at the city lights through the gigantic windows.

“it’s fine, i guess,” she jokes.

she feels him press up against her, his lips against the side of her neck. her body is on fire immediately. it’s been so long.

but the few times they’ve made love since the babies were born, it was in their bed, in the dark. the suite is softly lit, but it’s more than enough for him to see her naked body for the first time since she gave birth.

when his hands drag down her hips, she freezes. rafe is so intoxicated with the way her ass feels against him that he doesn’t even notice.

he continues to kiss her neck, his mouth hot on her.

“hey,” she says softly. “you know my body is… it’s different now.”

“hmm?” he mumbles.

she turns in his arms, still stiff from the feeling of his hands on her hips.

“i have a scar from the c-section,” she tells him, “and i carried two babies. i don’t look how i used to.”

rafe’s brows furrow in confusion.

“i just mean,” she says, eyes darting away, “don’t expect for me to be as hot as i used to be.”

“are you insane?” he asks. “you’re even hotter.”

“you haven’t seen me,” she says. she purposely doesn’t change in front of him and doesn’t give him opportunities to see her naked around the house.

his body is in perfect shape from his constant training and practice. but she doesn’t have the cheerleader’s body she had when they met. not even close.

“then let me see you,” he rasps. she bites her lip.

“maybe we shut off the lights?”

“fuck no,” rafe mutters with a chuckle. his hand trails up her back, finding the zipper of her dress and slowly pulling it down as he keeps his eyes locked on hers.

“rafe,” she says quietly. “i’m serious.”

“so am i. you’re not going to hide from me.”

her dress drops to the floor, pooled around her feet, leaving her in just her bra and panties.

she swears the man actually growls when he pulls her in by the waist, dipping to kiss her chest. she shudders as his fingers dip under the hook of her bra, taking it off impatiently.

she can feel how hard he is under his pants. while he could lie using his words, his body definitely can’t. he actually, really does want her. the feeling is overwhelming.

she finally eases into the motion, unbuttoning his shirt as he kisses over her collarbone. their bare chests are pressed together as he guides her to the bed, lying her down on the plush comforter.

“i’d have you up against that window,” he tells her, “but i don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine.”

his words make her feel dizzy. she pulls him down and kisses him hard. she didn’t expect to feel so wanted after he saw her naked for the first time in so long, but he seems even more passionate than he was back before she got pregnant.

rafe feels like he’s coming home when he’s on top of her like this. he can’t control his aggression, ripping her panties down and not even having the patience to take his boxers all the way off before sinking into her.

they exhale in sweet harmony when they meet, his hands pinning her wrists down against the bed as he starts to thrust.

“how hard do i have to go for you to know how hot you are?” he whispers through his short breaths.

she trembles, linking her legs around him, adjusting to his size like it’s the first time. he straightens his arms, hands still tight on her wrists, and meets her eyes as he rolls in and out of her with deep, perfect strokes.

“hard,” she challenges, simply because she knows he has it in him and that she can take it.

they make love over and over that night, lost in each other’s bodies, kissing so much that their lips get sore. afterwards, they’re tangled up naked in bed, panting and exhausted.

“i’m always going to want you, you know that?” he mumbles lazily against her neck.

she stares up at the ceiling. it’s hard to believe, considering he’s gained so much fame and popularity that he could get any woman he wanted.

“what?” he says when she doesn’t answer.

“you sure?”

“baby,” he half-chuckles. “i’m so fucking sure.”

“but my body isn’t-”

“your body gave me my children,” he interrupts. “end of story.”

she cracks a smile, gently slapping his shoulder.

“fine,” she murmurs. “end of story.”

[dimlylittorch]

18+ MDNI

Club owner!John Price x transmasc!chubby!sweetheart!innocent!reader

I’m just craving to write something so self serving y’all- very much my kind of thing i like to read so I hope someone else might enjoy it too💀

My Masterlist🌿

It wasn’t your first time in a club, of course. You went once with one of your college clubs, so that totally counts right? Then again, that was just a basic campus dive bar. This place was a little more high end, but it came with great reviews.

You decided to dress casually- I mean it was basically a bar with extra add ons right? Who wouldn’t dress comfortably? Slipping into a slightly baggy Hawaiian shirt and some solid colored shorts to accommodate, you walked in front of your bathroom mirror and looked yourself over. A usual outfit for you, but you picked one of your prettier ones for the benefit of the doubt. A tan colored shirt with a dark red and green rose pattern on it.. who wouldn’t think it’s cute? And doesn’t everyone love to feel like they’re on vacation when at a bar? It was simple, really. You couldn’t see any reason not to wear it.

That is until you walk into the place.

Women wearing nice dresses, some men in suits.. you stuck out like a sore thumb. You already feel the embarrassment rising in your cheeks as you start to get stares, but you quickly calm yourself. Standing out is good. If they’re staring for that long, they must like my outfit, right? Maybe someone will ask me where I got it- which leads to a conversation, which leads to no more embarrassment. Everything’s fine.

You smiled softly to yourself as you eased your anxious thoughts, walking up to the bar and leaning over it a little rather than sitting at a stool.

“Could I just get an ice water please?” You ask sweetly with a smile to the bartender, earning you a questioning look. Your brain quickly tries to rationalize why he looked at you that way- many people didn’t order water a lot so he didn’t know what kind of glass to put it in? “You can just put it in a whiskey glass- makes me feel fancy” you beam at him. Of course, the bartender still was confused, but you didn’t pay any mind. You didn’t think he had any reason to he confused, so you didn’t worry about it.

Once you get your water, rather than sitting at a table you start to make your rounds, gently wandering around the club, lots of eyes on you, which you ignore with a smile to every persons gaze you catch. As you wander, you reach the more strip club-esque area, dancers on stage and walking around with lots of people sitting and watching. Men cheering and women laughing. You decide to grab a seat right in front of the stage, pulling out your wallet and pulling out the few bills you had. It wasn’t much, but it seemed rude to not tip the dancers.

The next performance starts and a woman starts her dance in front of you, meeting your gaze once or twice. You weren’t like the usual customer, not eye fucking her and practically salivating in your seat. You were actually watching her dancing, enjoying the performance like most people should. At the end of the routine, most people start throwing bills at her on stage, which to you seemed a little rude. You gently stand from your seat, leaning forward and offering her your money instead, earning you points and laughs from most of the other patrons.

“You did really well” you say softly with a genuine smile as she takes the money before you sit back down meekly, knowing everyone was making comments about you.

That was definitely a new experience for her, not often being treated with respect at her night job. She heads to the back after her performance, seeing her boss walking by.

“How did tonight go?” He asks with a cigar hanging from his lips.

“Not too bad. Made a decent amount.” She sighs softly. “The funniest thing though- there’s some kid out there, being all sweet and handing me the money.” She chuckles. “Poor thing got laughed at pretty hard.” She adds before she heads down the hallway.

John’s ears perk up at her words, his eyes turning towards the door that leads to the audience. He decides to peek out into the crowd, and his eyes land on a young man in a Hawaiian shirt, slipping his wallet into his pocket before he stands up from his seat and starts to leave the performance area. John’s curiosity is peaked. How is it that a sweet looking kid like that managed to wander into his club?

As you leave the performance area, you start to turn back towards the bar area, when you hear a voice behind you.

“Didn’t like the performance enough to stay?” A rough voice speaks from behind you. You quickly turn around, looking up at a tall man in a dark suit with a white button down, a few of the buttons undone so you could see some of his chest hair peeking out. He was definitely older- but also definitely attractive. Your eyes widen at his words, finally registering what he said.

“No! No- no, not at all” you ramble out quickly. “It was great- I just-“ you chuckle, clearly anxious about saying the wrong thing. He was pretty intimidating to look at. “I ran out of cash. And I didn’t want to not tip the next performers.” You add softly.

John smirks at how anxious you are around him, fully prepared to attempt to make you flustered. “Or maybe you just don’t like men.” He smirks as he gestures to the next performance, a male dancer taking the stage this time. He watches your eyes widen as your gaze catches the dancer, your cheeks heating up ever so slightly before you look away shyly.

“I-“ you start to whisper, but he quickly cuts you off.

“You like how he looks, hm?” He murmurs amusedly. “His name is Soap. Why don’t you come sit with me. We can watch him together.” He offers with a smirk.

Your cheeks are already red from standing in front of one of the most attractive men you’ve seen in a while- but the thought of watching a strip show with him? Jesus. How could you say no?

“Alright” you say softly, shyly following him to a nicer table in what seemed to be the V.I.P section. You set your glass of ice water on the table, glancing around absentmindedly before you look up to him. “Are there any coasters?” Your soft voice speaks.

John can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at your words, leaning back in the booth and raising his arms over the back of it.

“No coasters.” He murmurs. It occurs to him that I probably have no idea who he is. No idea that he owns this club. It’s the innocence as a whole that intrigues him.. the genuine smile, casual clothing.

“Right” you whisper softly, taking the glass off of the table and holding it on your lap, much to his amusement. As he watches the dancer on stage, you carefully glance over his form, taking him in. He was tall, well built, but not too muscular. He had a pouch on his stomach area, but who doesn’t love a dad bod? He looks.. good. Really good. Sure, plenty of guys are attractive, but he just seems to have all of the good qualities mixed into one man. Strong, yet soft, intimidating but not scary. You felt safe with him, surprisingly.

“You’re new here.” He murmurs as he looks across the crowd, paying attention to the performance, as if making sure the routine is going as it should. “Yeah.” You say softly as you sip your water. “I don’t drink much.” You add quietly.

“But you’re here?” He questions as he looks at you, his eyebrow raising slightly. “Forgive me for wanting to adventure out a little.” You chuckle softly. “It seemed.. nice. The ratings were good.” As he’s about to reply, a round of applause starts off, Soap’s routine having ended. You quickly set your glass in between your legs, clapping as you look towards the stage with a smile.

“He did really well” you smile at John when you glance over at him. John smirks slightly when he sees your smile, and he reaches over, grabbing the glass from in between your legs and holding it.

“Wouldn’t want your thighs to get cold, love.” He murmurs with a small smirk as he looks off towards Soap. Before you can reply, the stage is set for a new performance, and a freshly dressed Soap approaches the booth.

“How’d I do, sir?” He grins down at John.

“As good as ever” he smirks as he gestures to me. “Soap, this is my new friend..?”

“Y/n” you say with a sweet smile towards Soap. It’s a little awkward considering you were just watching him grind against a stage. “You’re a really good dancer”

Soap grins and puffs out his chest slightly with a smirk. “I’m a good dancer in private too, if you ever happen to be interested” he winks.

“Oh buzz off Johnny. I’m sure there are plenty of people waiting for you back stage.” John scoffs.

Your cheeks redden slightly, a shy chuckle slipping past your lips, making John glance over at you.

“Unless you’re interested, love.” He murmurs with a curious gaze.

Your eyes meet his and they widen slightly. “No! No-“ you say quickly. “I mean- I’m flattered- you’re- you’re very pretty” I chuckle shyly as your eyes meet Soap’s. You see grins starting to form on both of their faces, and your cheeks heat up further. “I- um” you stutter. “Thank you for the offer” you finally manage to spit out.

Both of the men start to chuckle amongst themselves, Soap leaning over the table to get a better look at you.

“Pretty boy, you’re allowed to say yes” he smirks. “Unless I’m not your type..” he fake pouts a little.

As he leans closer, your hearts speeds up a little. “You are” you whisper softly. “I’m just.. probably not a good candidate” you murmur with an apologetic smile.

Soap offers a small smile, standing back up with a nod. “No worries, pretty boy. I’m always around if you change your mind” he winks before he pats John’s shoulder, then heading off backstage.

John smirks as he sees your reddened cheeks, his gaze affectionate. “Not a good candidate, eh?”

You sigh softly, taking a sip of water. “Trans” you murmur without much more explanation. “By the time I explain it to people, the mood is ruined.”

“You kidding?” I laughs. “Soap will fuck just about anything. No need to be worried about that in here” he murmurs as he finishes his glass of whiskey. “Cmon. I’m taking you back” he says as he stands up, holding out his hand.

You glance at his outstretched hand, blinking a little in confusion. After a few moments you take it, standing up and letting him lead you backstage.

tips and requests are open :D

haven’t been on my writing game lately so i’m sorry if this wasn’t that great!

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

amber freeman x reader with 14 would be soooo good

14. ‘’Picturing you with someone else makes me sick.’’

SCREAM WEEK PT 3/7

I got multiple requests for this one character/prompt combo. I couldn't not write it

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Amber smiled at the party-goers inside her house as she walked through the kitchen, pleased to see that people were having a good time. Her house was the perfect place for parties. It was massive and her parents were out of town almost every weekend. 

She got roped into a conversation with Wes and Tara, sipping her beer every now and then. 

‘’We should go. I’ll ask Mindy if she wants to come,’’ Wes said, looking forward to tomorrow’s double feature. ‘’The drive-in is an hour from here, but I’ll ask to borrow my mom’s car.’’ 

Amber wrinkled her nose. ‘’Do we really have to invite her? I don’t want to deal with her detailed critiques on the drive back.’’ 

‘’They’re showing her favorite movie. We can’t not invite her, Amber,’’ Tara reasoned, not wanting to be the one to exclude a friend — even for understandable reasons. 

‘’The last time we went to the theater with her, she didn’t shut up the whole walk to your house,’’ Amber countered, her irritation evident in her voice. ‘’I do not care what she will write in her Letterboxd review or what she—’’ She didn’t get to finish her sentence, her jaw tightening when she caught a girl chatting you up on the couch. She had a mischievous grin as was leaning in close, her hand resting dangerously high on your thigh. ‘’I’ll be right back,’’ she told Tara and Wes, her eyes not withdrawing from you.

She made her way through the crowd, quickly coming up with a way to get the brunette to go away. You were her girl. 

‘’Sorry to interrupt,’’ she interjected, approaching the couch with a practiced smile. "Didn't you leave with Sabrina last week? You might want to have a chat with her. I overheard her mentioning something about chlamydia and possibly spreading it around. It might be a good idea to schedule a check-up with your doctor." 

The brunette beside you thanked Amber for the information and hurried off in search of Sabrina. Amber’s warning made her look like a good person, like she was looking out for that girl, but you knew her too well to believe her intentions were good. 

Amber took a sip of her beer, then huffed a laugh. ‘’They think that because they’re lesbians they can’t catch anything.’’ 

‘’Sabrina does not have chlamydia,’’ you asserted, eyeing Amber skeptically.

She shrugged nonchalantly. ‘’She might. She’s making out with Connor on the porch, the guy gets around a lot.’’

You gave her the benefit of the doubt for this once. ‘’I’m gonna get another beer,’’ you said, standing up to get a bottle in the kitchen, but Amber grabbed your arm. 

‘’Actually, we’re low on beer. Can you help me get some?’’ 

Following someone into their dark basement was on the list of things to never do in horror movies. That’s how a lot of idiots get murdered. But you doubted Amber would ever plot to kill you. She could be evil-minded, but she wasn’t a psychopath.

The basement door closed behind you, making you jump. ‘’How many beers do you need to bring up? Because if it’s more than a dozen, we should ask Chad for backup.’’

Ignoring your question, Amber halted at the bottom of the stairs, her gaze piercing into you like daggers. ‘’What the fuck was that?’’ she snapped, her tone sharper than the edge of a knife.

Caught off guard by her sudden outburst, you blinked in confusion. ‘’What was what?’’ 

‘’Don’t play dumb with me. I saw you flirting with that bitch upstairs. You let her put her hand on your thigh. On my couch.’’

Ah, so that's what all the tension was about upstairs. Why she made up that nasty rumor about Sabrina. Amber was jealous. 

‘’I thought we weren’t exclusive.’’ 

‘’We’re not,’’ she grumbled, defensive.

‘’Then why are you barking at girls that get anywhere close to me?’’ you pressed as you took a step forward, a hint of amusement creeping into your voice. ‘’Are you perhaps…jealous?’’ 

Amber's reaction was immediate, her pride refusing to let your insinuation slide. She let out an indignant huff. ‘’I’m way better looking than that girl,’’ she retorted, her voice dripping with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

She wasn’t wrong. No girl in Woodsboro was prettier than Amber. 

‘’Then why are you acting like she can take me from you? That girl and I were just flirting for fun — at least, I was.’’ 

Despite your reassurance, Amber didn't release her grip on her emotions. Instead, she closed the remaining distance between you, standing so close you could feel her breath as she spoke. ‘’Never do that again, got it?’’ she hissed with a possessiveness to her tone that made your core clench. ‘’Picturing you with someone else makes me sick.’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh  @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore  @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti  @bloodyhw  @depthsofdespairr  @bellysbeach @wilmalovegood @loupiotesworld  @wenvierismycomfort @t-candy  @s-al-em  @darylscvmdumpster  @tommysaxes  @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @lynbubble @luiise @planetkt @vampyrgoff @adrluvh @mymultiveres  @miqi-16 @not-liah  @lovenats01 @doestalker @lonelywitchv2 @lausley336  @arinexeisnotworking @halforangecuts @l3ndryz  @ilovelandry  @your-platonic-gay-lover @danniackerman  @angelxxrose @lottiefromsam  @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222 @angelxxrose @lottiefromsam @zoeynicolas @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222 @pumkinnroses @cruzgrecia @sunnysunny133696 @aesthetixhoe  @gizmodecaprio @bingsbitch @buckyswhxre  @emerald-09

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff  @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity

[outivv]

I’m so disappointed with the natlan teaser because like. Girl. All of those characters would straight up look better if they had even the tiniest bit of melanin don’t even lie hyv.

I’m gonna go on a fat rant here so below the cut, fair warning because it’s messy as fuck I’m just pissed off

No because how are you going to straight up take the inspirations, and clear liberties from Aztec, Māori, Qichwa, Nigerian, Hawaiian, Native American, And Mayan (according to this image from @ HYVboycott on Twitter highly recommend btw they have good info imo)

And then you’re not gonna represent them in terms of their skin color??? Yes there are pale people in all these countries and pale people apart of these cultures, HOWEVER the vast majority of people, or the native people are not typically fucking white. I am white and I literally am darker than the majority of the genshin characters, even in winter when I don’t fucking tan. Like the genshin characters don’t even look ALIVE for Christ’s sake. Hyv are a bunch of cowards who take inspiration from poc, and don’t properly represent them, even in their other games like honkai Star rail. Boothill is Native American. Blatantly. “Oh, no he’s not!!” Yes the fuck he is, his entire backstory is based off of native people, he’s also part Hispanic because the original cowboys were Hispanic people called vaqueros, his home planet in the original CN version of honkai Star rail is literally two native tribes put together I believe. He is Native American, and Hispanic, and hyv TOOK that inspiration and that culture and then was too much of a coward to AT LEAST make him tan. Don’t even get me started on aventurine. So it’s not just with genshin that they do this shit, it’s a hyv problem as a whole, but with genshin it’s so like… common, and genshin has so many issues that make it feel like a cash-grab kinda game, and like the devs are just spitting in our face CONSTANTLY, especially when it comes to characters, and representation. It’s so depressing to see a game that at first had so much fucking promise, now just be such a fucking letdown after like what? 5? 4? Years? Like you’ve built up so much hype, and lore, and excitement just for Sumeru and Natlan not having any representation like fuck off. Hyv CAN fix these issues, they just don’t want to and they have expressed that time and time again by making dark skinned enemies, and enemies with dreadlocks. They know that they can, they just don’t want to because they’re too pussy. And it’s not because they’re a Chinese company, I mean obviously I understand that there is a complicated relationship with tan skin and China, HOWEVER that is no excuse because genshin, honkai Star rail, zenless zone zero, and honkai impact 3rd are all worldwide games and they need to appeal to their WORLDWIDE customers, and I’ve seen plenty of CN players fucking just as pissed off that there isn’t any actual diversity for like any of their games. Plus other Chinese companies have made diverse games, like Dislyte which I’m honestly a huge fucking fan of because of their diversity. Having diversity would BENEFIT hoyoverse a hell of a lot, but they are just trying to appeal to greasy old white men who are the same men who have a tantrum while making a reaction video to a game trailer and go “OH MY GOD SHE ISNT GOT ENOUGH!! LOOK AT HER!! SHE ISNT SEXY!!”, “OH MY GODDD THEY HAVE PRONOUNS NOW!! THE WOKE SNOWFLAKES GOT TO THEM”, and “OH MY GOD ASSASSINS CREED IS MAKING A BLACK SAMURAI THE MAIN CHARACTER!! NOOOO THATS NOT HISTORICALLY ACCURATE!!” Because they’re all pathetic, and that’s who hoyoverse is trying to cater to.

Okay I’m done, this went all over the place but I’m so pissed off so fuck hyv, give them the feedback they deserve, have a great day.