summary: play bratty games, win…uh, your boyfriends cum down your throat?
warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, glove kink, fingering under the table at a family dinner, dom!mattheo, denied orgasm, SLIGHT mutual masturbation, an absurd amount of dirty talk, daddy kink, ROAD HEAD (how tf does this man keep the car steady? idk), blowjob.
Malfoy Manor has always been stunning—the kind of stunning you've grown used to over the years of being with Mattheo, but that somehow still manages to take your breath away every time you step foot inside. It's perfect in a way that almost feels oppressive, the heavy weight of generational wealth clinging to everything.
The chandelier, the delicate flowers in the center of the table, even the soft scent of roses in the air—it's all so much. Too polished. Too grand.
You pick at your dinner, the taste lost on you.
On any other night, maybe you'd let the beauty sweep you up. But not tonight. Tonight, everything grates. The low hum of formal chatter, the fake, forced laughs that drift through the air—you hear it, sure, but you don't care. You can't care. You're too pissed off to care. It all sounds like nails on a chalkboard.
And the cause of your irritation? He's sitting right beside you, perfectly at ease. Mattheo's been charming the room for hours now, playing his part, all smooth smiles and well-placed comments. He was crafted for this. Moulded into it. He can waltz through these evenings like it's second nature, like he doesn't even have to try.
And that pisses you off too. Truthfully, everything about him tonight pisses you off.
But you sit there anyway, like the dutiful girlfriend you are, playing your role—smiling when you're supposed to, making small talk when you're supposed to—all while on the inside, irritation is bubbling, simmering just beneath your skin.
And maybe it's stupid—trivial—but you're mostly just mad that he dragged you here. Ignored your exhaustion. Dismissed it with that look of his, the one that said you'd survive, as if surviving was the same as being fine. And now, you're stuck in this perfectly orchestrated evening, playing a part you never wanted.
And you'd almost hate him for it—if it weren't for those fucking gloves.
Leather, black, soft and sleek. They move with him, something that masks his ruggedness and makes him almost look presentable—graceful—hiding cut knuckles and the strength within them as he picks up his glass, adjusts the napkin in his lap, brushing his fork like it's nothing.
You almost scowl in frustration of it all. Who the fuck let him wear those? You've been staring at them all night. You don't even want to, but it's like they've trapped your attention, pulled you in without asking.
You're mad at him. The gloves don't change that. But they do something. They make everything harder.
And still, you fight it.
It starts small. The attitude. A quiet, sharp kind of rebellion that only he'd catch onto. Your fingers tap your glass a little too hard when you set it down. Your words come out flat when he leans over to make some passing comment. You give him clipped responses, not looking at him, not giving him what he wants. You can feel the brittle edge of your smile, and you know he can too.
Mattheo notices everything. He always does.
After a while of this, a gloved hand slips under the table, brushing your knee.
A question without words; what are you doing?
You don't react. Not at first. You just shift your foot, barely nudging his ankle, pushing back in the smallest way. He tightens his grip on your knee—a warning, a silent conversation between the two of you, invisible to everyone else at the table.
"Dinner's been nice," he's prodding, testing, his voice smooth as ever. "Wouldn't you agree?"
You feel him watching, feel the weight of his gaze as he picks you apart, dissecting your mood. He knows you too well for this. You finally meet his eyes, and for a second, the room fades into the background. Just him and that damn hand on your knee, the soft leather brushing your skin in a way that makes your pulse stumble.
You try to shake it off, shrug it away like it's nothing.
"Hmm," you hum, pretending you're not affected. Your fingers tap your plate, and your eyes drift again—down to his other hand, resting on the table, playing with the edge of his glass. "I suppose."
His brow arches, just enough for you to catch it—another challenge posed to your audacity. He knows exactly what you're doing—you can see it in the way his lips twitch, the faintest hint of amusement. He's letting you play your game, but you know he's already winning.
"You're mad at me." His voice is low, slipping beneath the hum of dinner conversation.
You blink, keeping your gaze trained on the flicker of candlelight rather than him. It's not a question, not even a statement—he says it like a fact, just a certainty, a declaration dripping in the smugness that comes so naturally to him. And that pisses you off even more.
He’s always too goddamn sure about everything.
"Mm, no." You lift your glass, cool rim kissing your lips as you take a slow, languid sip, the taste biting your tongue. You let it hide the smirk threatening your face. "Nothing to be mad about."
His hand shifts higher, fingers tightening just enough to remind you he's there—dipping into your skin, the silent warning you can feel vibrating up your spine. You should be used to this by now, should be used to the way he takes you apart—but you aren't. How could you ever get used to this?
"Uh huh." He's not buying it. He never does.
His eyes flicker around the room, yours follow, mirroring his movements in a habit you loathe as you let him have that win. Everyone's busy—forks clinking, soft laughter bubbling up like champagne, far enough away to give him the nerve to push you harder. Your breath catches when you glance at his free hand again—black leather tapping idly against the tablecloth like it's got all the time in the world.
Gods, what's wrong with you tonight?
When had his gloves become the focus of your desire? They're just fucking gloves. Stupid, soft leather molding perfectly to those big hands—you’re chewing your lip without realizing it, and his eyes catch yours before you can look away—
Fuck.
"You keep staring at my hands," he's leaning in again, and your pulse skips, trips over itself like it's running from something. "Got something you'd like to say?"
The pit of your stomach tightens, twisting with a familiar dread, a sick kind of anticipation. Of course, he's noticed. The bastard catches everything. Nothing slides under his radar—not when it comes to breaking your attitude.
He likes to say he was born to tame brats—and you, of all people, make him prove it. Sometimes you hate him for it. Most times you don't.
"No, actually." You shift in your seat, trying to shake his hand off your knee, but he's relentless—doesn't budge, doesn't even flinch. "I don't."
Christ. His grip is ironclad, like those gloves were made for this kind of hold. For making you feel every fucking inch of them. You exhale as you gather yourself—you hate him tonight, hate him for dragging you here, for dismissing you so easily—and you want to let him know it. Want him to feel it.
"No?" His fingers slip higher. You glance down the length of the table, nausea curling at the edges of your vision when you spot Lucius' blond head gleaming under the chandelier. Mattheo's voice is low, just for you. "Nothing at all?"
"Mattheo." Your voice is a hiss now, strained, your composure hanging by a thread. You want to slap the smug look off his face, but you don't. You can't. "Leave me alone, okay? I'm here. For you. I'm not happy about it, but I'm here. Just let me be. You're being—"
He cuts you off with a tilt of his head, jaw clenching at the exact moment his hand slides further up your thigh.
Your words catch in your throat, suffocate on themselves, die there.
"Maybe you're being a brat because you want me to choke you, huh?" The words land heavy, like an accusation, but worse because it isn't a question. He knows. "Maybe that's why you keep staring at my hands?"
Your body goes hot—alive in ways it hasn't been all night. The room erupts into laughter, some joke you missed, but it only heightens the tension wrapping tight around the two of you. His fingertips are teasing dangerously close to where they shouldn't be, and you're suddenly very thankful for the tablecloth draped over your lap—
"No." The word slips from your lips, barely a breath, lacking conviction. "No, I—"
"A brat and a liar," he hums, not letting you finish. He's enjoying this now. "You're really racking up the bad decisions tonight."
Salazar save you—his fingers slip higher still, and you clamp your thighs shut, a last-ditch effort to keep him from pushing this into dangerous territory. He responds by hooking a foot around yours to spread you back open—you bite your lip so hard it hurts.
"Maybe I'm just annoyed because I had better plans for my evening," you can't let him win so you spit the words out, voice quiet, hoping he doesn't catch the tremor in it. “Not that you care.”
You don't look at him. You can't. More laughter fills the room. Drowns out the shake in your breath.
He huffs, wine breath brushing your ear. "Keep this up and you may just end up with the evening you deserve."
"And what evening is that?" You spit back, ignoring the way the leather sticks to the heat of your thigh. "The one where I'm stuck here, listening to Draco prattle on about his latest Quidditch practice? Or perhaps another mind-numbing dinner, this time with Dumbledore and friends?"
The flicker of irritation in his eyes is subtle, but you see it. Oh, he's seething now. Dread pools, thick like syrup. You drop your eyes to the table.
"Oh no, not even close," if anger was a voice, it'd be his. Right now, in your ear. "I was thinking more of the one where I keep you cuffed to the bed all night. How does that one sound?"
Your pulse hammers, too fast, too loud—you can feel everything—the candlelight burning your skin, the way the chandelier's glow twinkles overhead, the way his hand is still, still so high on your fucking leg.
No one at the table notices. No one cares. But the feeling is crushing you, pulling you deeper into this private hell of his creation.
"You lost the chance for that when you brought me here," you bite out, hand darting under the table to try and pry his fingers off your thigh.
But his grip only tightens, his foot hooking tighter around yours, keeping you in place. He's relentless. And you hate it. You hate how much you don't want him to stop.
"If you're going to act like a brat, just say so," he growls, his voice a low rumble, "you know I'll deal with you later."
You roll your eyes. "Promises, promises."
You can't help it. You're baiting him now, pushing him just as hard as he's pushing you. The inevitable looms over you, and you know you've already lost. He's not budging. He never does. And you know—God, you know—you're in for it.
If this is the hell of his creation, you were the muse.
"More than a promise," his patience is gone, you can feel it. You wonder just how close you are to him dragging you from the room by your hair, not caring who sees. "Count your blessings."
“Oh, I'm counting."
And with that, you reach for your wine glass again, taking another slow, deliberate sip, letting the bitter liquid slide down your throat—you're oblivious, don't even notice the line you've crossed until it's too late—
His hand moves fast, leather fingers slipping past the last scrap of dignity you were clinging to. You choke on the wine you'd barely had the chance to swallow, the world tipping, spinning, crumbling as his thick, gloved finger glides through your slick folds, sinking into your cunt without a moments hesitation. You hadn't worn panties tonight—a decision that felt normal in the beginning but now screams of poor foresight—but there's no time for regret.
Not now, not with your boyfriend fingering you under the table at a family fucking dinner.
"Quiet, brat," he mutters, eyes twinkling as you cover your mouth, still half-choking on your drink. "Keep making sounds and someone is going to notice.”
Your heart skips, the pulse between your legs responding to the threat, clenching involuntarily around him. You're soaked, the heat of it spreads shame across your cheeks, burning like wildfire in your veins. Why are you this wet? This shouldn't turn you on—it's humiliating, degrading—
"Then maybe don't make me make sounds," you hiss, gripping the table so hard you think the wood might crack. "This is on you—"
He cuts you off, slipping a second finger into your cunt—and the sentence dies in your throat, swallowed by a sharp whimper you disguise as another cough.
"I said quiet." His voice is thin, dangerous. His fingers slide deeper, knuckle deep, and the heat threatens to tear you apart. "Bite your tongue or so help me—"
You bite down, but on your lip instead, trying to school your expression into something neutral, something that won't betray the war raging inside you. You two haven't fucked in days—you're more sensitive than usual—and this forbidden thrill only makes it worse, heightening every nerve, every pulse, as his fingers move in slow, deliberate thrusts inside you.
"You can’t," you breathe, the words coming out weak, a poor imitation of protest. "Mattheo—"
"Shhh," he replies, voice low, a quiet storm gathering in the pit of your stomach. He leans closer, his breath hot against your neck. "Keep your sounds for later."
You snuff a groan, mind racing a million miles a minute—eyes darting around the table in a panic, scanning the faces for any sign that someone might notice. But no one does. The conversation moves on, unaware, the oblivious hum of normalcy in stark contrast to the chaos brewing beneath your skin.
This is crazy. It’s crazy in a way that only Mattheo Riddle could manage and you’re so fucking lost in it you don’t ever want it to stop.
He's not even looking at you anymore, fingers moving steadily, thumb brushing over your clit with the kind of casual cruelty that makes your body shudder. He's laughing, speaking to Draco as though he's not knuckle-deep inside you. The audacity of it makes your head spin. You're teetering on the edge—so close, dangerously close—and if you fall now, if you let go, you'll be too loud—you won't be able to stop yourself—
"Mattheo—please," you whisper, your voice trembling, barely holding on. His thumb rolls over your clit again, teasing, torturing. "You're gonna make me—"
"Yeah," he hardly looks at you. "I am." He crooks his fingers, pumping in slow, agonizing drags that send your brain spiraling into static. "Gonna make you lose the attitude. Gonna make you be good.”
Oh, you loathe him right now, deliciously. "Matt—"
"And you’re going to take it, like it’s not killing you." He continues—leaning in slightly now, examining the way your breath is coming in shallow, broken gasps. “Just like I’ve had to take seeing you in that dress…and pretend it hasn’t been killing me.”
Your eyes flicker around the table again, still desperate for any sign that someone might notice, just to give him a reason to stop—but the conversation continues, oblivious. The leather of his gloves is slick with you now, a wet sound breaking through the steady hum of voices with every movement of his hand.
You part your lips to hiss another pathetic plea—a warning to stop before you explode—but he cuts you off—
“One more word and I'll make sure not a single person at this table leaves without hearing you scream.” He pulls his fingers out nice and slow, rubbing some of the wetness down your thigh before he moves back and pushes back in. “Do you want that?"
You shoot him a glare, but shake your head nonetheless.
"Didn't think so," he mutters, his voice dropping even lower, fingers working deeper, faster. "Look at them," he hisses in your ear, and your gaze flicks over the table again. "They don't even care. Too caught up in their own bullshit to notice, aren't they? But I see you. I see how flushed your chest is—" his thumb presses harder, sending a shockwave through you—"I know what that means."
"I'm not—" your thighs tremble, you’re denying it as though you have any power to stop it. He’s just too goddamn good at this. "I'm not going to—"
"You are," he whispers, and you almost let your eyes roll. "I can feel you soaking my hand. Little cunt is begging me to finish this, isn't it?" His fingers thrust deep, hitting a spot that makes you work to choke down a sob. "You and that fucking attitude can deny it all you want, but I feel how close you are.”
The room erupts into laughter, a sudden burst of noise that pulls all eyes to the other end of the table. Your breath comes out in a trembling exhale, letting out a whimper you know won’t be heard over the commotion—the distraction your only saving grace as you fight to keep still, to keep from rocking against his hand and giving him what he wants.
You lean into him, pleading. "Mattheo, please—if you don't stop, I'll—"
"You poor thing," he hums, his thumb circling slower now, torturously precise. "Sounds like a you problem, princess. Shouldn't have been such a brat tonight."
"I'm sorry," you choke out, words barely coherent but you see the flash in your boyfriend’s eyes. It’s the two words he’s been looking for all night. "Please, just—"
And then—his fingers slip out of you. As abrupt as a cold bucket of water over your head.
You blink, almost gasping at the loss, just as the table erupts into another fit of laughter and you're left aching, disoriented, while everyone begins to stand. Merlin help you—dinners over and you had no goddamn idea. You feel like a robot moving in slow motion as you watch Mattheo wipe his slick fingers off on his thigh, smirking. The room is a blur of goodbyes and handshakes, and before you can even catch your breath, he's got you by the wrist, pulling you away from the scene, dragging you out to the car.
The passenger door of his blacked-out Audi flies open, and you're urged inside, your legs trembling, the evidence of everything he's done to you still slick between your thighs. The leather seats beneath you remind you all too well of the feel of his gloves, of the fingers that had just been inside you, and your cunt clenches at the thought, still throbbing with unfulfilled need. Mattheo slides into the driver's seat, a silent inferno of fury, not sparing you a glance as he throws the car into drive, tearing out of the Malfoy estate.
His leather-gloved hand rests on the stick shift, and you stare at it, unable to look away.
"You're staring again," he breaks the tension, his voice tight.
"Yes." This time, you don't even bother denying it. Not after what he'd done. He’d long tamed your attitude. You can’t fight it anymore. “I am.”
His chest rises sharply, his grip on the gear shift tightening. You bite your lip, feeling your core throb painfully in response.
"Learned your lesson, I hope," he mutters, eyes focused on the dark road in front of you.
"I suppose," you murmur, still breathless. The wetness between your thighs is impossible to ignore, and so you reach for his hand—tracing your fingertips over the smooth leather before curling your fingers around two of his, stroking them. "I suppose I learned something."
His breath catches when you jerk his fingers, and he sucks in a shallow breath of air through his teeth. You clench at the sound of it. Oh, how you goddamn love being a little tease.
"Mm." His voice is gravel, rough and uneven—you notice the bulge in his pants, his cock straining against the expensive fabric. "You want to cum, don't you?"
You nod, your fingers still stroking his. "Yes."
"Yes?" His voice lowers, a prompt you recognize all too well.
"Yes, Mattheo—daddy—" you correct yourself, your breath hitching. God, you’ve been here so many times with him. You know what he’s looking for. "I want to cum."
His jaw tightens, and he wets his lips. "You want my cock. You need it."
"Yes, daddy," you repeat, the words spilling out easily, exactly what he wants to hear, and exactly what you want to say. "I want your cock. I need it."
"Then finish yourself off," he growls, his gaze flicking toward you for a brief moment, his eyes blazing. "Make your filthy little cunt cum, and if you’re a good girl, I'll let you suck me off."
The command sends an insatiable fucking thrill through you, and without a second thought, you move to obey him—night air biting your skin as you shift your dress up and your fingers find the slick mess between your thighs. A long, long over-suppressed moan escapes you the moment your fingers graze your clit, and Mattheo‘a eyes flash over, jaw working as he watches for a split second before focusing back on the road.
"Fuck," you groan as you push two fingers into your soaked cunt, your head falling back against the seat, back arching. "Oh, fuck—"
"That's it," he murmurs, free hand moving from the gear shift to palm his erection through his pants. You swear you hear him moan. "You wish it was me, don't you? Wish it was my cock inside you."
"Yes, daddy, I do," you whimper, your hips rocking against your hand, fingers fucking deeper into your pussy, lewd sounds filling the steamed space within the car. "I wish it was your cock…inside me."
"Fucking brat with a dirty mouth," he hisses, his fingers working at his belt, eyes darting between the road and you. "Cum for me. Show me how you’re good for me.”
You groan, unable to believe how fucking wet you are, slick coating your hand and thighs, dripping all over your boyfriends expensive leather seat—Gods, you’re so close, the edge that he'd left you teetering on earlier now drawing closer with full force. You add another finger, curling them against your throbbing walls, and Mattheo's breath stutters, his focus wavering as he watches you unravel.
"Look at you. So fucking shameless." His hand slips inside his pants, and he starts stroking himself, his cock already leaking. "I bet you wish I’d pull this car over right now, huh? Fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”
You moan at how goddamn wrecked he sounds—forcing a smirk through your open mouth, words coming out shaky. "And how do I—ah—how do I deserve to be fucked, daddy?"
The car jerks, just slightly, Mattheo groans.
"Like the nasty little slut you are," his eyes flash to you again, his grip tightening on his cock, pumping faster. "Until you forget how to talk. Until you can't say anything but my fucking name."
Your world spins, orgasm roaring in. "Mattheo—daddy—oh fuck—"
"Earn it," he snarls, his voice raw. "Earn my cock."
One, two more deep pumps into your cunt and you erupt, finally—body seizing, orgasm crashing over you with violent force, leaving you gasping, your back arching off the seat as your wanton moans fill the steamy car. Mattheo watches you through hooded eyes, stroking his cock faster as you whimper and moan his name, orgasm intensified due to him edging you all through dinner—somehow managing to keep the car steady throughout all of this.
Part of you wonders if he’s charmed it.
"Good fucking girl—there we go," he purrs, and his hand reaches over, seizes the back of your head, urging you toward his lap. "Now take your reward."
You’re buzzing—breaths scattered, but there’s no hesitation, no argument. You shift to your knees on his seat, your mouth watering as you wrap a hand around the base of him, tongue teasing the tip before his hand in your hair directs you deeper—lips wrapping around his throbbing cock as he slides into your mouth, hot and heavy. He groans, his hips thrusting forward, just barely, and you gag slightly as he hits the back of your throat.
"Fuck, that's it," he grunts, his voice low and strained. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be choked on my cock. To be shut up like this."
You can't answer, your mouth too full of him as he directs your head to bob along him, as he thrusts into you, each movement deeper, harder. Tears prick your eyes, but you don't stop, your hands gripping his thighs as you suck him down, hollowing your cheeks and drooling.
"Fuck—yeah, that’s it. Choke on it," he snarls, other hand keeping the car impossibly steady. "Wanna see those tears, baby. Wanna hear you gagging on it."
You moan around him at those words, the heat of them shooting straight to your still-soaked cunt, tears spilling from your eyes as his hips buck up, slamming the back of your throat. Mattheo is the most impatient man you’ve known, and it shows in moments like this, when he’s sick of your attitude—when he drops the seat back, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the wheel, his knee keeping it steady as he thrusts deep into your throat. You’re gagging and moaning, working your tongue along the length of him, until with a final grunt, he spills into your mouth and you swallow every drop, his shaking breaths and gutted groans filling the car as he rides out his release.
"Fuck. That’s my girl. My good fuckin’ girl," he pants, his voice rough with satisfaction as he releases you, your lips swollen and wet as you slump back in your seat. "You earned that."
The moment you laid eyes on SSA Aaron Hotchner, you just know that man will be yours one way or another— no matter what it takes. And if Penelope Garcia was on your trail trying to track you down, no one would blame you for crossing all the lines just to get a split second of Aaron Hotchner’s undivided attention.
Judging from the look of surprise in their eyes as you stepped inside Garcia’s office, you knew immediately that something had happened.
You initially pushed the door open with a smile, only to find that Garcia wasn’t alone— unlike the past few weeks that you’ve been visiting her. There is a box of freshly baked croissants cradled in your arms as you wander your gaze around the room. Reid and Morgan are there too, huddled together around her desk, now staring back at you as you stand motionless by the doorway.
“Good morning,” you greeted with a hesitant smile, holding up the box of croissants like an offering. “I didn’t know you guys would be here. I brought breakfast for Pen.”
Garcia looked up from her computer upon hearing what you said, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh, you wonderful, gorgeous human being! I could never say no to that.”
You mirrored her adoring smile and invited yourself inside. As you handed Morgan the box of warm croissants— which he and Garcia quickly opened and bantered about— you caught Reid following your movements with subtlety. You noticed that, of course. As you always do with every hint of suspicion from anyone. So you perked your eyebrows to feign innocence, feeling a rush of blood cursing through your veins.
His eyes traveled to the croissant box and smiled briefly at you. “Thanks. We could actually use a break.”
“Break from what? It’s only 8 in the morning…”
Morgan nodded with a quiet hum, leaning against Garcia’s desk as he chewed on his food. “We were just talking about Hotch,” his voice tinged with worry as he explained. “He’s been acting really weird lately.”
“Weird? Why?”
Just like that, you knew the nagging feeling was right.
Something has definitely happened.
“Yeah,” Garcia’s fingers never stopped their dance across the keyboard as she sipped her tea. “It’s the fourth time he’s changed his phone number in the past few weeks.”
Your heart skipped a beat, nearly choking you with your own saliva. Yet still, you maintained a facade of curiosity.
“Really? That’s strange…” you said in the best worried tone you could muster. “Any idea why? Did he tell you anything?”
Reid shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing in deep thought. “We think something might be bothering him, but he hasn’t said anything to us. You know, it’s unusual for him to be this closed off.”
You watched Morgan and Garcia nod in agreement.
“Whatever it is, it’s got him on edge. We’re worried about him. It’s like he’s dealing with something he can’t talk about...”
Garcia sighed. “Maybe we should talk to him,” she suggested hopefully, looking around at her friends with wide, expectant eyes. “Let him know that no matter what happens, no matter what’s bothering him, we’re always here for him.”
“Babygirl, he knows that already. And may I remind you that’s exactly what you just said to him last night on the elevator.”
“Well, it won’t hurt if we remind him again.”
“Girl, come on,” Morgan chuckled, the corner of his lips tugging to a lopsided grin. “Really?”
“Derek! You’re not taking this seriously!” Garcia exclaimed in frustration. “Hotch just changed his phone number. Again. Doesn’t that scare you at all?”
“Hey now, don’t be like that—”
“Well, we know him. He’ll talk to us once he feels like doing so,” Reid cut them off swiftly, his eyes focused on one of the screens of Garcia’s computer set, his eyebrows pulled together in a curious frown. “What are you doing, Garcia?”
“Oh, this? This is modern magic unfolding before you, boy wonder.”
“I told you to stop calling me–” Reid sighed in defeat, shaking his head. “Okay. What are those satellite photos for?”
“I’m tracking the activities of his last number.”
Your eyes widened a fraction, glancing around them in a slight panic you hoped could be seen as a look of curiosity.
“Is that legal?”
Garcia chuckled at your baffled expression. “Mon amour, if I do things legal do you think I will be hired by the FBI?”
Your lips twitched in the corner as you smiled at her.
“And what do you know so far, Garcia?” Reid leaned forward, his eyes squinting a little.
“Oh! Glad you asked, boy wonder. I know that... that he’d been receiving calls from three deactivated numbers.”
“Three?”
“I know right?” Garcia mumbled in agreement. “Maybe a group of cyber gangsters ganging up on him. What a bunch of losers! Look, these are different numbers. I’ll need to check in with cell service providers and ask.”
Reid shrugged, sighing as he leaned back on his seat. Then for some unknown reason, his eyes landed on you and you had to look away. You had to. While Morgan took a big bite of his croissant before speaking again, a shit-eating grin on his lips.
“We’ll leave it up to you then, gorgeous. We have to go.”
You swallowed thickly.
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that, Pen. If there’s anyone who can do this thing, it’s you…” you forced out a smile, trying to appear supportive while a heavy weight nested in your chest.
“But do you?”
You whirled your head to where Reid was sitting, his doe-like eyes watching you carefully. The vein in your temple started pulsating at the insinuation of his simple question.
“D-do I what, Dr. Reid?”
“Appreciate it?”
“What? Of course, I do,” you said quickly, awkwardly, as you let out a surprised chuckle. “It’s good to know he has friends like you who care about him.”
The duality you’ve been playing started gnawing at you. To these people, you’re just a young technical analyst intern who craves mentorship from their star employee. Beneath, you’ve been the source of Aaron Hotchner’s distress and anxiety in the past month. You would’ve been embarrassed and ashamed as the severity of your action dawned on you... until you remembered how quickly Aaron read your messages and watched your video last night.
The one where you were bouncing like a cockdrunk bunny on a pink vibrating dildo, squirting multiple times until your legs gave up on their own, the taste of Aaron’s delicate name hanging from your lustful lips.
That night, as expected, sleep eluded you completely.
And for the first time, it’s not because you’re too occupied imagining how it would feel like having Aaron’s girthy cock pounding in and out of your desperate cunt.
The night grew deeper with silence, the only sound audible in your apartment is the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. You were lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, rest chased away by the worry that have taken root in your thoughts.
You can’t stop thinking about the conversation earlier in Garcia’s office. The way Reid’s eyes seemed to linger on you a moment too long– too intently for your own liking, the subtle but palpable tension in the air. Your heart pounded as you imagine Garcia, fingers flying over her keyboard, tracing the activities of Aaron’s old phone numbers.
If she finds out, if Garcia connects the dots…
Fuck.
Fuck.
“No,” you whispered to yourself, your voice trembling in the quiet room. “No one can ever take you away from me, Aaron.”
The thought of losing him, of being exposed, crumbled your logical thoughts. What will happen if you get caught? Will you be taken out of the internship program? Goddamnit. Of course, you will be. And no amount of political connection or bribery would save your reputation from this scandal.
You pictured Aaron’s face wistfully; the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he’s deep in thought, the way he commands the room with his presence. He’s everything to you, the love of your life, your reason for being. He’s the only man you can see your future with. And the idea of him slipping away, of him not caring about your existence, is unbearable. Dying would’ve been less painful.
You sat up in bed with your breaths coming in shallow gasps. The darkness of the room pressed in on you like the world was slowly caving in. You grab your phone from the nightstand, your fingers trembling as you scroll through the messages you’ve sent him. Each one is a piece of you, your body, a way to keep him close, to remind him that you’re always there.
For him.
For his pleasure.
For his needs.
For the taking.
“Reid’s suspicious,” you muttered to yourself, your mind replaying this morning’s events as vividly as you would’ve wanted. “He knows something. Fuck. He fucking knows. That fucking guy!”
You bolted up from your bed and started pacing the dimly lit room, your thoughts spiraling as you bit down on your nail. Seconds ticked and you could taste the faint trickle of blood on your tongue, feeling the way your teeth sank into the thin flesh nervously, over and over again.
If Garcia tracks the activities, if she cracks your location, if Reid digs deeper— everything could come crashing down. You’ve worked so hard to stay hidden, to keep your actions in the shadows. But now, you saw threats looming over your head. You knew those two wouldn’t rest until they saw you punished.
You know you were smart, you have always been. You kept one step ahead of everyone. But the fear, the obsession, it clouded your judgment. You’re afraid those only made it hard to think clearly.
“No one can ever take you away from me, Aaron,” you repeated to yourself, the words becoming a mantra in your head. “You’re mine. Only mine.”
You stopped by the open window, staring out at the city lights. The world outside seemed so distant, so little and so far removed from the thoughts inside your mind. You’ve always been so careful, so meticulous. You had to remind yourself that you did everything as you planned. You won’t be caught.
Not by FBI’s genius technical analyst.
Not even by fucking Spencer Reid.
No one.
The sky loomed dark and heavy when you woke up the next morning. Sipping on your hot coffee, you made your way down the hall, the sound of your stiletto hitting the floor creating soft click-clack noises. The office was already busy despite the early hours: several coffee machines and dispensers whirring, beeping fax machines, rustling of papers, and agents preparing for their duties.
But your thoughts remain fixated on Aaron Hotchner.
As you turned a corner, you almost bumped into another figure— JJ. She was walking briskly, a coat draped over her arm and a phone pressed to her ear. For a moment you wanted to scream at her for having you nearly spill your hot coffee on her, but quickly thought better of it. She’s one of Aaron’s friends. You have to be nice to her the way you were with everyone else.
“Oh, shit. Sorry— No, no. I need those files now. Yes, it’s urgent. Just make it happen,” her words spilled out in a rapid flow.
You quickly notice her expression is one of concern, eyes wide with urgency. She’s speaking quickly into the phone, her voice a hushed mix of panic and annoyance.
She gave you a strained smile.
“Hey, I need a favor,” she said, pulling the phone away from her ear for a moment. “Can you take this coat to Hotch? He’s about to leave with the team. I’d do it myself, but—” She gestures to the phone, her voice trailing off as she returns to her conversation.
You nodded eagerly, taking the coat from her. “Sure, I can do that.”
“Thank you,” JJ said, her attention already back on the call as she hurried toward the elevator, the urgency in her steps evident.
You turned and headed in the direction of the team’s meeting room, the coat heavy in your hands. As you walked, a wave of temptation washed over you like a plague— hearing whispers echoing inside your head tempting you to walk in the direction of your office instead, stuff the coat into your bag, or take a sniff in the middle of the fucking hallway.
You fought hard not to do any of that.
This is Aaron’s coat. You can feel the warmth of his presence left on the fabric, the faint scent of his cologne lingering like flowers in spring luring in the butterflies. The thought of holding something so personal, something that belongs to him, made your cunt clench in so much anticipation.
Fuck.
If only you could grind your wet pussy on this coat—
Jesus Christ. Who’s stopping you, anyway?
By the time you reached the conference room, the team was already gone. The room was empty and the only signs of their recent presence were the scattered documents and half-finished coffee cups on the table. Your heart sank as you realized you’d missed them, but the coat in your hands was a tantalizing alternative.
You glance outside the room, ensuring no one is watching, and then you bring the coat closer to your nose, inhaling deeply.
The scent is intoxicating; a blend of his cologne and the faint smell of something leather. It feels like a piece of him, something intimate and close. Your mind raced with the dirty fantasies in your head, the thrill of having something so personal in your possession.
The temptation to keep the coat was impossible to resist. Despite the risks, the potential consequences, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of this moment.
You clutch the coat tighter, your heart pounding with intense exhilaration– so intense you could barely breathe. You know it’s dangerous, that if anyone finds out, it could unravel everything. But the need to feel closer to Aaron, to have a piece of him with you, overrides all sense of caution.
“I’ll bring it back,” you told yourself, a weak justification that does little to quell the guilt gnawing at you. “Just for a little while.”
With one last look around, you went back to your small office and slipped the coat into your bag, all while imagining all the fun you’d be having tonight. Fucking hell, you’re so wet already.
After a long, grueling day in the office, you finally made your way back to your apartment. Exhaustion and sleepiness weighed heavily on you, but an undercurrent of excitement pulses through your veins at the thought of having Aaron’s coat in your hands. It’s a small victory, a piece of him that you can hold onto... even just for tonight.
You unlocked your door languidly and stepped inside.
But as soon as you closed the door, a chill ran down your spine. Something feels off. The silence felt strained and heavy. And so you paused, scanning the dark room with growing unease. The usual order of your belongings seemed undisturbed, but you knew. You knew the small details that only you would notice.
“Hello?” you called out, taking slow and cautious steps.
Your heart raced as you moved further into the apartment. When you reached the living room, however, you stopped dead in your tracks. A shadowy figure is sitting on the single couch, watching you from the hallway. The dim light from the street outside casts eerie shadows, but you recognize the silhouette immediately.
“Aaron…” you whispered, your voice trembling.
You felt the anger exuding from him as he stood. His eyes are dark, piercing as they lock onto yours. “I’ve been waiting here for hours.”
A wave of terror crashes over you, unable to respond quickly.
“Aaron, I—”
He cut you off with just a step closer. “You really think we wouldn’t know? You think you’re that smart?”
Panic gripped you with the way his piercing gaze found your eyes, your mind racing for an escape.
“No, you don’t understand,” you pleaded, desperation seeping into your voice. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Aaron. I just—”
“Just what?” He snapped, his expression hardening. “You’ve been harassing me for a month. You invaded my privacy. I had to change my number several times because you won’t fucking listen.”
You took a step back, the walls closing in around you. The reality of being caught, of Aaron knowing the truth, of his anger being directed at you; it was suffocating.
“Aaron, please, sir… I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I just... I just wanted to be close to you.”
His eyes narrow, a mix of anger and disgust etched into his features. “You think this is about wanting to be close? What are you going to say next? That you’re in love with me?”
But you are.
Tears blurred your vision as you tried finding the right words, but nothing you say could change the truth. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”
Aaron takes another step forward, shaking his head. “It’s too late for apologies now, don’t you think?”
“Please, Aaron...” you begged in desperation, your voice barely audible. “Don’t turn me in. I’ll do anything— just don’t be mad at me. Don’t send me away, sir. Anythi—”
“Kneel.”
Your knees buckled with that, quickly following his order. With your hands intertwined and perched on your lap, you watched him silently as he took in your submissive position. All while your cunt clenched at the sight of him in front of you— so domineering and commanding. The anger in his eyes, the coldness in his voice, the fact that he was too big and too strong that he can toss you around and fuck you like a ragdoll if he wanted to.
You shut your legs tightly, creating a soft friction on your aching clit.
“Come here,” he ordered as he took his seat once again.
And so you did, eager and desperate as you scrambled on your knees, crawling to him.
You glanced up at Aaron with a shallow sigh, blinking almost innocently as you took your place in between his legs. Your hands were itching to touch but you didn’t want to anger him anymore. You have to be good. Remember, Aaron has to like you.
“You fucking slut,” He spat angrily, undoing his belt as he stared down at your trembling body. “Take off your clothes. I don’t want to see you wrapped in anything.”
Maybe it was his voice, or the predatory look on his face, or the fact that he’s the love of your life that made you so pliant to his commands. You had your dress shirt removed instantly, unbuttoning it with your shaking fingers. You are trembling with anticipation and fear. But the heat was pooling in your cunt as you reached for the zipper of your tight skirt.
You tossed your clothes to the side as you removed them, quickly reaching for the clasp of your white bra. “T-this too, d-daddy?”
“Stupid whore, what did I fucking say?”
You whimpered. “Y-yes, sir.”
His belt came undone as you finished unclasping your bra, placing the belt on the armchair. The cold should’ve seeped right through every pore of your skin but as soon as you saw Aaron unzip his pants, you knew your world was ending, and no cold could ever dampen the lust lurching at the pit of your stomach.
“Look at these...” There’s a dark glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he scanned your naked body. He pinched your nipple in a sharp, fleeting moment before slapping both of your tits.
In which you only moaned.
“C-can I...” you mumbled pathetically, your eyes directed at the growing bulge in his pants. “Touch, sir? Please. Can I touch you?”
His rough hands gripped your chin tightly, his eyes mocking when he said: “Beg.”
As if that would embarrass you.
You fucking waited for this.
You smiled softly at him, your voice as dewy as honey. “Please, please, daddy? Can I taste you? I’ll be good, daddy, I promise. I’ll make you feel so good…”
You reached for his hand, batting your eyelashes slowly— enticingly.
But Aaron Hotchner was a man hard to impress. You yelped when he roughly gripped your hair and forced you to crane your neck upward, warm tears flooding your eyes with the sting and the pain.
“Open your mouth.”
Quickly as you did, he spat on you. Twice– once in your mouth and once in your face, reaching your eyelashes and cheeks. Pleasured moans escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of his saliva on your skin.
You were never good with pain, but the moment his palm reached your cheek with constrained force, you felt the wetness in your neglected cunt drenching your inner thighs even more. You could feel your pussy clenching in desperation but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on your own pleasure.
He slapped your cheek again, this time harder, his fingers still tangled in your hair.
“You wanted this, huh? This is what you want, you fucking whore?” He said tauntingly before he took out his leaking and girthy cock from his pants. “I’ll give you what you fucking want.”
You barely registered everything when he forced his length on your waiting lips, down to your throat. He started pounding on your mouth, guiding your head like you’re nothing but a mere fucktoy. You felt yourself splutter and gag as you relish the burn- the stretch of your mouth to accommodate his big cock, and the feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat.
It was too much.
And too good you wish he won’t ever stop.
You tried your best to suck him, tears dripping down your cheeks while he continued ramming his cock in and out of your mouth.
“Open wide, baby. Come on... just like that... good girl.”
You nodded eagerly, feeling both of his hands gripping your head, keeping you in one place as he assaulted you with force. Tears were now streaming down your face in a steady flow, while Aaron groaned in the sight of you struggling to take in his length.
“D-daddy—” your voice broke into a sob as he pulled your hair harshly, a string of saliva connecting your lips and his wet, veiny cock.
Without warning, he spat on your face again, loving the way you moaned and closed your eyes while catching your breath.
“Thank y-you, daddy…” you mumbled dazedly, wrapping both your hand around his length and rubbing the wetness of his cock across your face. “Love this… love you…”
“Continue sucking, whore.”
You nodded quickly, frowning at the effort of welcoming his huge cock on your mouth, and confusion when you felt his belt wrapped around your nape. Just a few moments after, you felt the rough burn of leather on your skin, forcing your head to go back and forth as he pulled the belt and bucked his hips.
Your hands clawed on his clothed thighs as you tried pulling your head away from his cock, but the belt on your nape was restricting your movement. You had no other choice but to take it in, whimper, and claw on his thighs, on his arm, on his stomach. You feel so lightheaded you can barely think.
“Fucking hell, baby—” He pulled you away from his cock, his eyes wandering on your face. Your lipstick was smudged messily on your chin, your mascara running down your cheeks. “Look at this whore, didn’t you say you wanted that?”
You nodded weakly.
“Oh, you can’t speak now?” He laughed mockingly, slapping his hard cock on your face, chuckling at the distant look on your eyes. “Well, fucktoys don’t speak in the first place, anyway.”
You nodded again, whimpering as his fingers tangled in your hair.
“Is this what you were imagining all those times you’re fucking yourself in front of your camera?”
“Yes, y-yes, daddy…”
“And if I say I film this and show this to a jury, would you like that, huh?” He said in a whispery voice, caressing your cheek almost lovingly before slapping you with light force. “Huh, would you like that? Answer me, whore.”
“Yes! Yes, daddy. W-want them to s-see…” you rambled quickly. “Want them to see w-what slut I-I am for your cock…”
You were sure you never felt pleasure like this ever before. Your past boyfriends, your fingers, your sex toys. Nothing comes close to the feeling of Aaron’s cock pummelling in and out of your tight cunt, his fingers circling on your sensitive nub. Which he also said so; he’s never fucked a young and tight pussy like yours ever before.
That being whispered dirtily in your ear was enough to send you to your second orgasm.
Your body trembled as you reached your high, your knees buckling and trembling as you struggled to keep yourself standing. You were already on your tiptoes as Aaron continued fucking your cunt from behind, slapping your ass every now and then. Every time you’d clench around his cock, a growl would ramble low from his chest and do it all over again.
“So fucking tight–” He said breathlessly, his voice hoarse and raspy. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. Look at the camera in front, come on, baby.”
“Oh, my- g-god… daddy!” Your legs trembled again as you struggled to be on your tiptoes, your eyes fluttering close at the overstimulation.
Aaron was too tall and too big. The camera was set up in front of you, but with the intense pleasure, your vision was blurry with unshed tears; the pleasure so blinding your eyes crossed while your mouth hung open, saliva dripping down the side of your lips and to your neck. You looked so fucked out you don’t even know what’s happening around you.
“You like whoring over an older man’s cock, huh, baby?” He taunted as he pistoled his hips roughly. “Is this really why you wanted to join the Bureau? You wanted my big cock to ruin this tight cunt?”
You mumbled dumbly, hoping Aaron understood. He slapped your ass again, moaning at the feeling of your pussy clenching around his girth.
“Wanted to- wanted your cock to ruin me, d-daddy...”
“I’m close... you’re so warm and tight...” He rambled to himself, his chest heaving with effort. “I’m gonna cum inside this fucking pussy. Gonna mark you, baby. Fuck, you’re m-mine.”
“Yes! Yes! D-daddy, right there! P-please…” you squealed in pleasure, pushing yourself more on your tiptoes so he would hit the bundle of nerves again. “R-right there! Oh, Aaron!”
The sound of your high-pitched moans and his deep voice tangled together in the air. You rolled your eyes as tremors shook your body, feeling his warm cum painting your walls. He released too much cum you feel a portion of it fill your belly. All while his hips pounded your cunt with slow yet sharp trusts, his jaw tight as he craned his neck to the ceiling, his eyes closed.
“A-aaron–”
“Shut up, whore. I’m not fucking done,” He exclaimed loudly, hooking your waist only using his one arm before tossing you to the larger couch. “I’ll decide when will I be done fucking this cunt.”
I know you guys didn't ask to be tagged on the next part but I really appreciate the support for Part 1 so here we are! I hope you don't mind me tagging you!
And thank you everyone for the reblogs and likes. See you on the next ones!
summary: you and your neighbor are harboring feelings for each other, but both of you think the other is too sweet. then, things take a turn when your first heat since moving in hits, revealing the depth of your feelings for the alpha next door—and his for you.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU tropes (heats, knots, purring, mating, scenting), piv sex, breeding kink/pregnancy kink (reader's on birth control tho), accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m + f), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, size kink, pet names (baby), mutual pining, idiots in love, dual pov
word count: 8.9k
a/n: here's my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420's Cum Together Extravaganza!!! i used the A/B/O AU and breeding kink prompts—and this is my very first omegaverse fic!!! so uhhh please be kind because i don't know what i'm doing 😅 also loosely inspired by "too sweet" by hozier!! anyway, this ended up a lot longer than i thought it would be....whoops!! hope y'all enjoy!!!
When you first moved into the little pink cottage next door, Steve Rogers decided that you were too sweet for an ex-soldier alpha like him. An omega like you was filled with sunshine and gentleness, and you deserved an alpha who would treat you like the precious thing you were.
The kindest thing Steve could do for you was stay away. The thoughts you inspired in his alpha hindbrain had him hating the rough and greedy animal side of himself. He wanted to dig his fingers into your plush hips and bend you over, make you present your pretty little body in the way the alpha in him craved.
But he reminded himself you were too sweet. Too sweet for the obscene thoughts that plagued his mind. Too sweet to be defiled by a big alpha like him. Too sweet to be swollen and round and glowing because you were carrying his child…
Still, you were his neighbor and Steve couldn’t avoid you entirely, even though everything he saw only reaffirmed his belief that you were too good for him.
The little pink cottage beside his house had come with a front garden filled with pink roses and all manner of other pink flowers that Steve couldn’t even begin to name, but you tended to them like you’d planted them yourself. Steve would get home from work, park his truck in his driveway—which had a perfect view of your front garden. He’d watch you from behind his tinted windows as you took care of your flowers, looking like a garden fairy come to life.
When Steve eventually grew uncomfortable with how long he’d been watching you, he would get out of his truck and call a gruff hello to you as he made his way inside. Your melodic voice returning his greeting would follow him into his house, where he’d close his door and lean against it, panting like he’d just escaped a warzone while his cock strained against his jeans. But Steve wouldn’t stoop to jerking himself off to the thought of you—at least not while you were just outside.
On weekends, Steve would work in his backyard, mowing the grass and tending to the shrubs that ran along the line separating his property from yours. When the weather was nice and pleasantly warm, you would sit out on your small back porch, curled up in a wicker chair reading some book or another.
Steve would offer to mow your lawn, just for an excuse to stay outside longer, and be a little bit closer to you. You’d let him, and thank him for his efforts by giving him some ice cold lemonade, smiling up at him while he drank it. Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised the lemonade was more sweet than tart.
As the weeks and months passed since you’d moved in, Steve couldn’t help but feel his desire for you growing, becoming a living thing curling around his heart, making it beat for you. You were the sweetest and prettiest omega he’d ever met, and he’d be lucky to be your alpha, but he kept his distance, certain you could do better than him.
That is, until your first heat after moving in next door changed everything.
That was when Steve learned you were far more than the innocent little omega he’d determined you to be—you were a creature of sex and desire, made to take an alpha’s knot and be pumped full of come in the hopes that their seed would take root in your womb. When your heat hit fully, your keening wails echoed from your cottage, and they were a siren song that called directly to Steve’s alpha heart.
But he kept himself away. After all, there were polite ways of going about these things, and he’d never even asked you out on a date, so he certainly wasn’t going to assume you wanted his help to get you through your heat. Besides, you hadn’t asked for him to join you, anyway.
That didn’t stop Steve from keeping an eye on you, though.
He’d noticed the slight change in your scent a few days before your heat truly set in, his cock reacting even more to your perfect omega body than normal. Steve felt like he was walking around with a constant bulge in his pants after getting a single whiff of your scent, but he ignored the niggling feeling telling him he needed to be close to you and did his best to hide his reaction. He knew you had other things to worry about than the comfort of the alpha next door.
Even though something in him compelled him to go to you, Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk over to your cottage. It occurred to him that even if you didn’t want him to help you through your heat, he could offer to go to the store to get the food and provisions you’d need. But he didn’t. He was worried about what he’d do if he looked into your home and saw your nest and smelled your sweet perfume.
So Steve kept his distance, watching you from his truck and the windows of his house as you brought home a week’s worth of provisions—protein bars and sports drinks that would keep you nourished enough to make it through your heat. Steve wished he could carry the heavy-looking bags into your home, but his cock was pitching a tent in his sweatpants, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the way his alpha body reacted to your omega scent.
Finally, as your heat drew closer, you locked up your cottage, closing all the windows and drawing all the curtains. Steve couldn’t help but notice, though, that you left the skylight in your bedroom cracked open a tiny bit. Steve’s alpha hindbrain itched at the thought that you’d only left it open because you couldn’t close it yourself, and he had to hold himself back from going over to your cottage to offer to close it.
Steve knew omegas liked to keep their nests dark and warm and locked up tight. They wanted to keep all the scents created during a heat trapped in their nest, at least until their heat broke. So it was curious that you’d left the skylight open, even a little bit.
But when your heat hit in earnest that evening, your pitiful whimpers and desperate moans filtering through the open window and directly to Steve’s ears—through the window of his bedroom that he’d thrown open the moment he’d heard you—he forgot about what omegas typically wanted. Instead, all the blood in his body rushed to his cock, making him harder than he’d ever been in his life.
Steve stood at the window of his bedroom, which overlooked your cottage, his eyes glazing over as he listened to you pant and whine and cry out for an alpha that wasn’t coming. Because of course Steve had noticed that no alpha had arrived to help you through your heat. He assumed you were using any number of the toys that were sold precisely to help unmated omegas get through their heats without an alpha’s help.
But it meant you were alone, in your nest, riding out your heat on some silicone knot. That thought nearly made Steve storm from his house and barge into your cottage to demand you let him help you, but he reminded himself you were too sweet, too sweet, too sweet for him. So instead, he fisted his cock and listened to your raspy pleas fill the night sky.
“Need your knot, alpha, oh god, please,” you babbled, your voice beautifully melodic to Steve even when you were desperately begging for something he knew he shouldn’t give you. “Fill me up, daddy, I need it—need your knot, alpha—daddy, daddy, alpha, please, please, please!” Your moans grew louder and Steve could only imagine the thick silicone knot that was filling you up the way he should be filling you.
One of Steve’s hands gripped the frame of his window tightly, using the feel of the wood digging into his palm to keep himself grounded as he physically fought with his alpha instincts. He wanted to break into your cottage and rip your toys away from you so he could help you through your heat. Like he was meant to. It should be him inside you, sinking into your warm, welcoming cunt while you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.
Steve’s other hand gripped his cock, pumping his hard, stiff length with a fist so tight, it was nearly punishing. It helped a little, but his fist was a far cry from your perfect cunt, which would be gushing with wetness and so hot, Steve would feel like he was sinking into heaven and hell at the same time. And when he came, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as emptying his balls right against your cervix, pumping your womb full of his seed while knot locked your bodies together so it would be almost certain he’d knock you up.
That is, if you weren’t on birth control. Which most unmated omegas were, Steve reminded himself.
Still, the alpha in him was a beast barely caged—he wanted to breed you.
Steve wanted to see you impaled on his cock and his knot, so bloated from how full you were with his come that he could see it in the way your belly bulged, giving a preview of what you’d look like growing with his child. He wanted to knock you up, he wanted to see you swollen and round with his pup.
He wanted to keep fucking you even as you carried his child, watching you bounce on his knot, your tits swollen with milk and your belly big and round while he tried to fill your womb with another before you’d even popped out the first. Steve wanted to keep you pregnant all the time, your pretty little omega body always ripe and swollen with his pups, taking his knot and his come every moment of the day so he could make sure you were always glowing with the radiance of motherhood.
It was that image of you—beautiful and knocked up, your eyes hazy with pleasure that came only from being impaled on his cock, and being locked on his knot—that made Steve come.
He grunted as the pleasure of his fist and his thoughts of you finally became too much, wrapping both his hands around his thick length, one squeezing his knot while the other pumped the rest of his shaft. His come erupted from the tip, streaming over the windowsill and dripping down to his bare feet on the wooden floor of his bedroom.
A growl tore from Steve’s lips while he came, a deep, dark part of his alpha hindbrain responding furiously to the fact that he was wasting his seed. He should be emptying his balls deep in your fertile cunt while your slick walls gripped his knot and milked every drop of his seed into your womb, where it belonged.
Steve’s release seemed to last for ages, longer than he’d ever experienced before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his head finally started to clear when it abated, he would’ve been worried he’d gone into rut. But finally, Steve surfaced from the depths of his pleasure, and winced when he remembered the thoughts that had made him come.
Steve was appalled by the direction in which his imagination had gone, and felt guilty for imagining you in such a state as pregnant and bouncing on his cock—even as the reminder made his cock leak one last spurt of his release. Cursing and castigating himself, Steve moved away from the window to clean himself up and wipe down the spot where he’d been standing.
The entire time he was cleaning up after himself, Steve felt off-balance. He’d never felt such a pull toward an omega before you, and he’d never been so close to going into rut just from listening to an omega whimper and moan. If he didn’t know better, he would think you were his mate—the one omega in the whole world who was perfect for him.
But Steve pushed that thought aside and reminded himself you were too sweet for an alpha like him. You might’ve sounded desperate and needy while you suffered through your heat alone, but you deserved better than an alpha who could think of nothing else besides pumping you full of come and knocking you up with his child.
Steve felt disturbed all over again when he thought of the vivid, obscene things he’d imagined while he’d jerked himself off. He’d never been the type of alpha to get off on the idea of breeding, let alone pictured anyone swollen with his kid while they were impaled on his cock. Steve felt so far out of his depth, he swiped his clean hand down his face to try to regain the equilibrium that had been shattered by your pretty omega sounds.
Thankfully, you’d gone blessedly quiet at some point when Steve had been coming all over his windowsill. He tossed the rag he’d used to clean up his mess into the laundry and flopped down on his bed, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any rest that night. It was a good thing he’d called out of work on heat leave.
Even as Steve lay in his bed, the refrain that you were too sweet for him repeating in his mind, he couldn’t help hoping that you were getting some much-needed rest. He’d never been one to worry over much about whether someone was sleeping or eating, but he wondered if you’d had a protein bar and drank a sports drink before falling asleep. He knew you needed to keep up your strength if you’d make it through your heat.
His thoughts spinning around in his mind, Steve fell into a light, fitful sleep, his alpha hindbrain remaining alert and attuned to the sounds coming from your cottage. Little did he know, it wouldn’t be long before everything would change. Something would happen that would force Steve to finally give in to the connection between him and the omega next door.
When you woke on the second morning of your heat, it was to a burning need cutting through your core, urging you to roll onto your knees and sink down on the silicone knot toy that had slipped from your pussy while you slept. Unbidden, the face of the alpha next door, Steve Rogers, popped into your mind and you sobbed through another wave of aching desire, wishing desperately that he was with you to help you through your heat.
You hadn’t met the alpha until after you’d moved into the little pink cottage next door to his much larger home, and you were instantly smitten with the former soldier. He was big—so much bigger than you—with broad shoulders and bulging biceps that were barely hidden beneath the tight t-shirts he always seemed to wear. But it was Steve’s thighs that were always so distracting to you, so thick they made you want to ride them until your slick was drenching his jeans.
A pitiful moan fell from your lips as you reached between your thighs, grasping blindly for the toy you’d discarded in your sleep. With your face still shoved into a pillow and sleep still clinging to the edges of your consciousness, you slid down on the thick silicone cock, pretending it belonged to Steve.
The alpha next door was just so…sweet.
It hadn’t taken you long after moving into your cottage to learn your neighbor’s schedule, and you made sure to always be working in the garden in front of your home when he got back from work. You lived for the growly greetings he would call to you, and the faint blush that would graze his cheekbones, like he was shy around you, his harmless omega neighbor.
And on the weekends, when you knew Steve wasn’t working, you sat on your back porch reading—though you were more often ogling the fit alpha’s shoulders and arms as he worked in his backyard. The sun would shine on Steve’s blond hair and make him look like a golden god, with sparkling blue eyes that would occasionally flick in your direction, though you didn’t think he was really looking at you.
Of course, when he’d offer to mow your lawn, you’d let him. Then, to show the alpha your thanks, you’d make him some nice refreshing lemonade. If that meant you could watch him quench his thirst while you imagined his sweet mouth on your body, drinking your slick as eagerly as he drank your lemonade, then that was just a bonus to being a good neighbor. Right?
It had become abundantly clear to you that you harbored a crush on Steve, and it was nearly excruciating living next to him when he didn’t seem interested in making a move on his omega neighbor. After all, it had been months, and he’d been nothing but friendly and respectful and sweet.
It was obvious, at least to you, that Steve was too sweet for you—too sweet to be the rough, dominant alpha you craved. Too sweet to bend you over and impale you on his thick cock with one stroke. Too sweet to shove his knot into your cunt and make you come so hard you saw stars. Too sweet to knock you up over and over again, filling up that big house of his with pups that you’d created together.
You’d told yourself it was for the best that Steve kept his distance. If he couldn’t be what you needed, then you didn’t want your crush to develop into unrequited feelings. But your heart didn’t listen, so you kept putting yourself in situations where you’d get to see your neighbor—working in your front garden when he got home, sitting on your back porch while he was in his backyard.
Then, you began to feel your heat coming on, and your thoughts about the alpha next door only worsened. It wasn’t uncommon anymore for unmated omegas to ask alpha friends or acquaintances to help them through their heats, but the prospect of asking Steve for his help, getting to come all over his knot for days on end, and then trying to go back to the way things were sounded torturous.
Instead, you went about your heat preparations as you always did, gathering supplies from the grocery store and stocking up the minifridge in your bedroom with sports drinks while you piled your bedside table high with protein bars. You closed and locked all the doors and windows of your cottage, drawing the curtains tight to keep out the sun.
You knew you were a bit of an odd omega, and you didn’t like total darkness in your nest, which was why you had been the only one interested in the little cottage. It had a skylight in the bedroom that any other omega would want closed and covered during their heat. The window itself was covered in a film that dampened most of the direct sunlight and you enjoyed the natural light, even when you were deep in your heat, so it was perfect for you.
It occurred to you, as you were preparing your room, that if you cracked open the skylight, the sounds you made during your heat would filter out from your cottage. Your desperate cries for a knot might even be heard by the alpha next door…
Later, you’d blame your decision to leave the skylight open on the dangerous combination of your pre-heat brain and the exquisite agony of your crush on Steve. But by that time, the little decision you’d made in the urgency of your heat preparations would’ve irrevocably changed your life—for the better—and you wouldn’t give a thought to regretting what you’d done.
Still, on that second morning of your heat, when you were woken by the need to be knotted and flooded with come, you didn’t even remember that you’d decided to leave the skylight open. So you had no idea whether it was working or not, whether Steve could hear you—but he wasn’t far from your thoughts as you rode your silicone alpha toy, trying to slake the need that burned through your body.
Your heats were always a little hazy, like most omega’s, with desire and need pounding through your blood so insistently, you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. Your mind could only focus on getting a cock inside you, then a knot and, if you’d had an alpha to help you, the gush of their come. Since you were so mindless, you uttered words that you’d forgotten the second they fell from your lips.
The first night of your heat, when you’d had a moment of clear-headedness enough to gulp down a sports drink and scarf a protein bar, you’d hoped you hadn’t cried out anything that would embarrass you—like Steve’s name. You’d had a vague memory of calling out for an alpha, which was normal for an unmated omega, and a daddy, which was normal for you, given your desires when you weren’t going through your heat. But you’d breathed a sigh of relief when you didn’t remember calling out for Steve specifically.
You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you cried out Steve’s name while in heat. But you were about to find out.
The silicone toy in your cunt wasn’t cutting it. It had been just fine that first night, though you hadn’t felt as satisfied as you normally did, and you hadn’t slept as long as you typically did in between waves of your heat. Something about this heat felt different. You weren’t just desperate for an alpha’s knot and come, you wanted more…
You wanted a pup. You wanted an alpha’s cock shoved deep in your cunt, unloading their come against your cervix, filling your womb with a seed that would take and knock you up. You wanted to be bred—and not just by any alpha. You wanted the alpha next door to breed you.
Steve. You wanted Steve. You needed Steve.
“Please,” you gasped, the word leaving your lips as you thought of your big, sweet alpha neighbor. His face came easily to your mind, those sparkling blue eyes and soft lips, that strong jaw and the way a blush turned his cheeks the most perfect shade of pink. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need your come,” you whined, speaking to the image of Steve in your mind.
You pushed yourself up onto your knees, grabbing one of the many pillows from your bed and shoving it between your thighs, forcing the silicone alpha cock deeper into your cunt. Still, it wasn’t enough, even as you tried to make due.
You rocked your hips, trying to replicate the feeling of fucking yourself on an alpha’s cock, but it paled in comparison. A desperate whine worked its way up your throat, filling your room and slipping from the skylight into the morning air.
“Please, daddy, wanna have your baby,” you cried, your hands going to your tits and tugging on your nipples so roughly, pleasure and pain swirled through your body, creating a tornado of sensation that only fed the need burning in your core. “Wan’ you to knock me up, alpha, wanna give you pups, wan’ you to suck on my milky tits while you fuck me, daddy.” You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself, the sensations making your cunt gush slick all over the toy inside you.
The pleasure was gathering in your core, making you more desperate to reach the pinnacle of your climax. Your hips worked, humping the pillow and cock between your thighs, shoving yourself down against the knot at the base of the toy, knowing it was what you needed to come, but your pussy was still too tight to take it.
“Oh god, I need it, alpha, I need it, I need it,” you babbled mindlessly, fucking yourself furiously on the toy and still wishing it was Steve’s cock.
You pictured him beneath you, his cheeks tinged pink, not with a blush, but with the flush of his desire for you, his blue eyes nearly black from his pupils blowing wide as he stared up at you. His soft mouth parted as he groaned, his thick cock buried in your tight cunt, twitching as you squeezed him.
It was with that image in your mind that the fateful words spilled from your lips. You cried out desperately, “Knock me up, daddy, gimme your pup, please—please, breed me, Steve!”
So close to the edge of your release, you barely heard the distant crashing sound that echoed between your little cottage and the house that belonged to the alpha next door. All you heard were your gasping breaths and mindless moans, the toy shoving into your cunt making low squelching noises that only managed to turn you on more.
It was only when a much closer smashing sound preceded the swirl of cool morning air infiltrating your home, and flooding into your nest, that you were able to drag your attention away from your own desperate frustration. Your omega instincts were going haywire, part of you telling you something was wrong, while another part unfurled and shifted, like a flower blooming toward the sun.
Blinking your eyes to clear away the haze of your heat, your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of surprise at the sight of the alpha in your bedroom doorway.
Steve’s big body filled the doorway, his hands clutching the wooden frame while his chest heaved with heavy breaths. It looked like he was trying to hold himself back, his grip so tight on your doorframe that a distant part of your mind worried it might splinter beneath his palms. But you couldn’t think too closely about that, not when your neighbor was staring at you with a crazed look in his eyes, like he wanted to fill you with his knot as badly as you wanted to be filled.
Your too sweet alpha neighbor’s mouth—which was normally curved in a soft, friendly smile—was twisted with ferocious lust, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough growl like nothing you’d ever heard from Steve.
“Invite me into your bed,” he rumbled, the order clear in his voice even if he didn’t use his alpha command. “Ask me to help you through your heat, tell me you want me here,” he went on through clenched teeth, an edge of desperation in his tone that called your heart—and your cunt. “Tell me you want me, omega.” His fingers gripped the doorframe tighter, and you heard the wood creak beneath his strength.
Your pussy spasmed and your heart lurched when Steve called you by your designation, but it was when his scent hit you that you felt something inside your being shift and lock into place. Steve smelled like home—like safety and security and love. He smelled like a future of wrangling children together and making love together and sitting on a porch swing together and growing old together.
In that moment, you knew what your instincts had known from the moment you met Steve—he was your mate. He was the one alpha in all the world who was meant for you, just as you were the omega meant for him. And once you knew that, it was the easiest thing in the world to part your lips and beg him to join you in your nest, in your bed, and help you through your heat.
“Please, Steve—please, mate, please help me,” you begged, your voice breathy with need and excitement, tears of joy shining in your eyes.
Something shifted in Steve’s expression when you called him your mate. You watched as he took a deep breath, scenting you the way you had him. A riot of emotions swirled in those beautiful blue eyes of his—disbelief, acknowledgement, acceptance, satisfaction, pride. You saw the moment he realized what you’d only just discovered, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.
“My omega, my mate,” Steve growled, finally letting go of the doorframe and launching himself at you.
Finally—finally—Steve was coming to you, closing the distance between you, and you’d never been happier in all your life. The alpha next door was your mate, and you hoped that meant he would be more than willing to knock you up and breed you like you needed.
Steve had woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of your sweet cries that morning, though they sounded much more desperate to his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but you sounded less than satisfied with whatever toy you were using and Steve slid a hand down to his already hard cock, thinking you should’ve been riding him instead of some silicone dick.
He’d lazily stroked his cock, trying to restrain himself from coming all over his stomach, while listening to your increasingly desperate cries. Steve had fisted a hand in the sheets of his bed, hoping it would be enough to hold himself back from storming over to your cottage and taking your heat into his own hands.
Then, Steve heard you cry out his name and something in him snapped. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d thrown on some boxer briefs and stormed out of his bedroom, leaping down the stairs and throwing open the front door of his house so ferociously, he’d ripped it off some of the hinges.
Not even caring that he was leaving his door open, Steve charged over to your cottage, taking a little bit more care with your front door when he broke the lock and pushed it open, flinging it closed behind him. He knew it was likely stuck closed thanks to the broken lock, but Steve only cared that it would prevent anyone else from getting into your home. He’d deal with getting out later. Much later.
Finally, Steve got to the doorway of your bedroom, your nest, and he’d stumbled to a stop at the sight that lay before him.
You were perched in the center of your big bed, a pillow wedged between your thighs, the knot of a toy barely visible while you humped futilely on the fake cock. Your delicate fingers groped your tits, squeezing your soft flesh and pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself—that thought making even more blood rush to Steve’s cock. Desperate whimpers and whines fell from your lips, more pleas to be knocked up and filled with pups, and they were nearly his undoing.
At the last second, Steve gripped the doorframe, holding himself back from pouncing on you, as he tried to remember why he shouldn’t be there. You were an unmated omega, in heat, and he hadn’t gotten permission to be in your nest, let alone help you through your heat. And you were too sweet for him…
God, you looked sweet, though. Sweet enough that Steve’s mouth watered with the thought of how slick you were, how good you would taste on his tongue. Even from the doorway, he could see the way your wetness had soaked the pillow between your thighs. He wanted to taste you, to scent you, he wanted you.
Steve was seconds away from launching himself at you when your gaze finally landed on him. It was the delighted surprise in your eyes that urged him to ground out a desperate plea for consent to enter your room and help you through your heat. Blessedly, you seemed coherent enough to answer—but you didn’t only answer and beg for his help, you called him your mate.
That word struck a chord in Steve’s chest, his heart pounding even harder at the impossible prospect that you were his mate—that you were meant to be his. But he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of you and opening himself up to the possibility that you were his.
You even smelled sweet, like the pink roses in your front garden—or, rather, the peace Steve felt when he came home to find you tending to your flowers. You smelled like the warmth of a gentle fire and the giddiness of butterfly kisses. You smelled like life, like the time unfurling before the two of you, years and decades spent with each other, making each other happy.
It was as if Steve truly came alive for the first time when he scented you, and the last tether of the self-restraint holding him back from you snapped.
“My omega, my mate,” he rumbled in a low purr, a voice he’d never even heard himself use before. But he didn’t have time to think about that too closely—he only knew he needed to get to you.
As quickly as he could, Steve surged into your room, tearing off his boxer briefs—the only clothing he’d had the presence of mind to put on, and he was thankful for it, since it saved him the grief of a public indecency charge—in the few steps it took to get to your bed.
By the time Steve tackled you into the tangle of blankets and pillows, he was naked as the day he was born, his cock throbbing with need and brushing against swaths of your soft, bare skin, leaving his precum behind. The alpha cradled your body in his strong arms as he rolled you beneath him, his narrow hips slotting perfectly between your plush thighs, his hard length resting against your mound.
But there was something in his way, something that shouldn’t be inside you and Steve couldn’t help but growl, “Get that fucking toy out of my cunt, ‘mega.” He softened the fury in his voice with light, fleeting kisses to your cheeks and temple and forehead, greedy to taste the sweetness of your skin.
“Yes, alpha,” you gasped, fumbling between your bodies to wrench the silicone dick from your tight hole.
The sweet submission in your voice was too much for Steve—he had to taste it. Slanting his lips to yours, Steve kissed you for the first time, groaning into your mouth at the wondrous feeling of your mouth beneath his. You tasted better than you smelled, like radiant sunshine bursting on his tongue and casting a golden glow over his entire body.
Deepening the kiss, Steve plundered your mouth, stroking his tongue against yours and nipping at your lips until you were gasping and panting beneath him. Your entire body trembled with unslaked need, your fingers clinging to his bulging biceps as you cried out for him, all of which stroked Steve’s alpha ego so much, his cock twitched and leaked against your belly.
“Please, Steve—daddy—alpha—I need you inside me,” you wailed in a broken voice and Steve’s instincts took over.
He shifted his hips back, the tip of his cock finding your slick hole and he pushed forward, sinking his hard length into your cunt with one thrust. Steve’s entire world realigned, his heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your tight heat consuming him, overwhelming him. An animalistic groan left his lips, and he buried the sound in your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried not to come immediately.
With Steve’s cock finally buried inside you, he felt your body relax beneath him, your moan of pleasure dissolving into a sigh of relief. Steve’s hindbrain felt a deep satisfaction at the way you melted in his arms, your submission to him apparent in the loosening of your muscles. Finding your lips again, Steve kissed you sweetly, cherishing the moment of calm before your heat urged the two of you to move.
“Thank you, alpha,” you whispered, your voice soft and blissful and the most content Steve had heard it since your heat began in earnest the day before. “The toys weren’t working.” You pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek on your way to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing so deeply he could hear your inhale, making his cock twitch in the depths of your pussy.
Then, your words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Steve’s mind and he purred, smiling into your neck when you relaxed further beneath him, responding to him.
“You needed your mate, didn’t you, baby?” Steve cooed, lavishing your neck with kisses until you were whining and squirming beneath him. “Needed your daddy to pound your needy little cunt like only your alpha could, huh?” He started rolling his hips in tight circles, grinding into your cunt, his knot rubbing your clit in a way that had you clenching deliciously around him. “Needed me to pump your sweet little womb full of come, huh, needed me to give you a pup?”
As soon as the heated words fell from Steve’s lips, he wished he could take them back. He’d heard you beg him to breed you, but that was when you were riding a silicone alpha dick, not when you were seconds away from taking Steve’s knot.
Mentally, Steve chastised himself for letting his mouth run away from him so soon. He’d barely gotten his cock in you and he was already talking about knocking you up. He didn’t want you to think he was that kind of alpha, one that only wanted an omega to pump out babies for him—even though the thought did make Steve rock hard.
“Sorry, ‘mega,” Steve mumbled, shifting his arms beneath your body so he could cradle your head in one hand, holding you still while he rocked his hips into yours, kissing your cheek and jaw and neck and anywhere he could reach.
“Sorry for what?” you asked on a gasp, hooking your legs around Steve’s sides and clinging to him so you could grind on his thick cock.
Thankfully, you didn’t seem turned off or scared by Steve’s breeding talk. If anything, the way you arched your spine and shoved your cunt down on his dick made him think you liked it. But surely that couldn’t be true.
“Didn’t mean to mention pups so soon,” Steve said gruffly, hiding his face in your neck so you wouldn’t see the blush that he knew was turning his cheeks pink.
“Oh god,” you moaned, your cunt squeezing Steve’s cock as your body writhed beneath his. “Wanna give you so many pups, alpha,” you cried, humping up from beneath Steve’s big body, riding his cock harder than you’d been riding your toy when he’d walked in.
Steve went cross-eyed at the assault on his senses. Between the perfect heat of your slick pussy gripping his cock, teasing his knot every time you rocked against him, and the sound of your sweet voice confessing you wanted him to knock you up, Steve’s body shuddered with the effort it took not slam his knot home and flood your womb with his seed to give you exactly what you wanted.
“You like that idea, huh?” Steve rumbled, hungry passion and desire coursing through his body and urging him to move faster, to fuck you harder. He pulled out of your fluttering pussy and slammed back inside, relishing the desperate cry that left your lips and the way your fingers dug into the muscles of his arms. “You like it when your alpha tells you how much he wants to breed you?”
Despite his best efforts, Steve could hear the thread of insecurity in his question, and he wasn’t surprised when you cupped his face and moved his head up so you could look into his eyes. What he didn’t expect was the sheer amount of pleasure and desire in your hazy gaze, or the mixture of sweetness and depravity in the little smirk you gave him.
“I do, daddy,” you said, your voice breathy but no less firm in your resolve. “I want to hear everything you’ve thought about doing to your little omega—want you to breed me, alpha.”
Everything else in the world melted away as Steve focused on you—his omega, his mate—and the fact that he was going to try his damndest to give you what you wanted. After all, that was his duty as your alpha. You were his to take care of, to provide for, to protect, to cherish—to fuck and to knot.
You were his to love—you were his to breed. And Steve planned on loving you and breeding you plenty.
You’d never felt anything so good as Steve sinking his thick alpha cock into your weeping cunt, and you nearly sobbed in relief as the edge of aching, burning need finally abated. This was what you needed—not a toy or any alpha’s cock, but your mate’s. Your body and omega instincts had known something was wrong, and it had taken a slip of your tongue to fix it.
Even if it had been an accident to cry out Steve’s name, you couldn’t feel embarrassed about it, not when you finally felt something like satisfaction. The need of your heat still burned bright beneath your skin, but for a moment, you could revel in the feeling of being so intimately connected to your mate, your Steve—the alpha next door.
The words of thanks had slipped past your lips before you could stop them, and you loved the teasing way he responded. But then you felt a shift in Steve. He’d seemed to feel guilty for mentioning pups, but even his apology turned you on, making your arousal burn hotter. Your body had been unable to still when you needed him so badly—needed to give him pups, needed to grow round with his child and know that he had claimed you in the most primal way possible.
Your brain had short-circuited when Steve had said he wanted to breed you, but you’d still heard the anxiousness in his tone and you’d guided his head up so you could look at him. The uncertainty and guilt in Steve’s beautiful blue eyes nearly broke your heart. He was too sweet for words, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with even the words he said in the heat of the moment.
Between one breath and the next, you fell in love with Steve Rogers. He wasn’t simply the alpha next door, he was your mate, and he was yours. A fierce possessiveness filled your chest as you smirked up at your alpha, determining to show him exactly how much you wanted everything he’d said.
“Want you to breed me, alpha,” you begged on a moan, your hips rising up off the bed to meet the brutal thrusts of your mate. “Fill me up with your pups, daddy, please, I need it!” You held Steve’s gaze, letting him see the pleasure on your face, hear the genuineness of your words.
You saw the moment Steve’s insecurity and guilt melted into desire and determination. His blue eyes darkened and his face twisted into a mask of sinful resolve. He looked like a fallen god, with his golden hair and tanned skin, framed perfectly in the little bit of morning light filtering in through the skylight above your bed. Your pussy clenched around his cock, fluttering as he thrust inside you, teasing your hole with his knot.
“Don’t worry, ‘mega,” Steve rumbled, ducking down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that left you gasping for breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “We’re making a baby today.”
“Yes, alpha,” you cried, spreading your legs wider in an effort to let Steve fuck you deeper. He grinned, shifting his hands to your thighs and pushing them up against your chest, folding you in half and pounding you into the bed.
“Gonna fill up your perfect cunt with all the seed in my balls, and if it doesn’t take today, ‘m gonna fill you up until you’re overflowing with my come—until your belly’s bulging with it,” Steve growled, rutting into you with a ferociousness you never would’ve expected from your sweet alpha neighbor. But Steve’s sweetness was never far from the surface, and he proved it by lowering his voice to a deep rumble that you felt in your belly, asking, “Mm, ’s that what you want, baby, want daddy to give you a pup?”
You were pinned beneath Steve, his cock fucking you so hard, your room was filing with the wet squelching sounds of your soaking cunt and the sharp rhythm of your alpha’s thighs slapping against your own. But still, it was his words that seemed to have the most effect on you, turning you into a writhing, needy creature who’d only be satisfied when Steve emptied his balls deep in your cunt.
“Yes, alpha,” you cried, your fingers clinging to Steve’s shoulders, digging into his warm, golden skin while he fucked you into oblivion. “Want you to knock me up, wanna give you a pup, wanna grow big and round with your child and feed you both from my milky tits,” you babbled, throwing your head back and screaming when Steve’s cock hit against your cervix, pleasure and pain swirling like an inferno in your body. “Please, daddy, god, I need it, I need it—knot me, breed, me, Steve, please!”
“Baby,” Steve groaned, capturing your lips in another kiss while he rutted into you faster and harder, his knot pressing against your tight hole with every thrust and teasing you with the stretch of it. “You’re gonna get a pup, alright,” he growled when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna pop out a kid for me and then I’m gonna fill you right back up.” Steve moaned, his body shuddering and you knew he was close. “Wanna watch you bounce on my cock with your belly ripe and swollen with my pups, your tits heavy with milk—the prettiest mommy and mate an alpha could ask for.”
“Steve,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, kissing him and thrusting your hips up to meet his. “Please, make me a mommy, alpha—wanna be a mommy, please, daddy, daddy, please!” Then your lips were too preoccupied with Steve’s, kissing him messily in between desperate moans while he fucked you hard and fast.
Finally, Steve pulled back and thrust forward with so much power, his knot pushed inside your tight cunt and you screamed in pleasure, the feeling of his thick bulge stretching your tight hole sending you over the edge into the most earth-shattering release you’d felt in your life. It was a transcendental experience, coming on your mate’s cock, your alpha surrounding you and filling you up in every way possible.
As your body squeezed Steve’s cock, he groaned loudly in your ear, burying his face in your neck while his hips stuttered against yours, trying to fuck you with his knot but unable to move because your bodies were locked so tightly together. Then, with a moan of, “my mate,” you felt the moment Steve began to come. His cock twitched deep inside your cunt, a warmth filling you as he shot rope after rope of come against your cervix, filling your womb.
For a long time, the two of you stayed locked together, riding out your releases in each other’s embrace. Giggles and moans filled the room, each of you kissing the other wherever you could reach while you basked in your pleasure together. You breathed in the scent of Steve, your lips dragging up and down the column of his throat while he kissed your neck and shoulder and just beneath your ear, making you shiver.
Eventually, when the squeezing of your cunt was reduced to a flutter and your body had milked every last drop of seed from Steve’s cock, the two of you settled. Your heat had abated for the moment. Though need still burned low in the core of your body, reminding you it wasn’t over just yet.
But you had a bit of a respite, and you took the time to revel in you newfound mate. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, which was flushed pink with pleasure.
You felt Steve’s smile against your skin and then he was rising up so you could see the full blush that tinged your alpha’s cheeks. He looked so sweet and ruined, his blond hair a mess, his blue eyes bright with satisfaction, a deeply smug smile on his plump lips.
“Feeling better, ‘mega?” he asked, though there was so much male satisfaction in his tone, you were certain he already knew the answer.
Still, you liked seeing this side of Steve. Typically you didn’t like cocky alphas, but Steve looked so hot when he was confident, your pussy fluttered around his knot at the sight of his smirk.
“I am, daddy,” you said softly, smiling up at your alpha, enjoying the way his smirk deepened as you confirmed what he knew. You couldn’t help but stroke his ego a little more. “Now that you’re here to take care of me.”
Steve’s eyes softened and he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. “Good,” he said when he pulled away. Then his arms were wrapping around you and he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were splayed across his broad chest, your bodies still locked together by his knot.
It would deflate soon enough, but you reveled in the feeling while it lasted, snuggling into Steve’s arms. Sleep called to you, but Steve was still moving and you when you opened your eyes, you found him reaching for your stash of provisions on your bedside table.
“Gotta eat and hydrate, baby,” Steve murmured as he unwrapped a protein bar and began feeding it to you. Even though you were exhausted, you knew he was right and you let him feed you, only sitting up when it was time to gulp down some of the sports drink he offered you. “Good girl, ‘mega, doing so well for your alpha,” Steve said, praising you while you ate and drank.
When you were done, Steve tossed the empty wrappers and bottles back onto your bedside table and relaxed into the many pillows on your bed. You settled down on his chest, your body sated in every way possible, muscles going loose when your alpha began to purr.
“Thank you, alpha,” you mumbled, the urge to sleep more insistent since you were fed. Steve’s hands smoothed down your back, tracing your spine lightly with his fingertips in a way that made you melt even further into him.
“Don’t need to thank me,” he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re my mate, ‘m gonna do everything I can to take care of you—and our kids.” He added the last bit like it was an afterthought, but you knew Steve meant it, and your heart warmed at his protectiveness.
You smiled into Steve’s warm skin, nuzzling into his neck beneath his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—the scent of home—but his words made you remember something you should tell him.
“Steve, ‘m on birth control,” you murmured sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the thick column of his neck. “Thought you should know.” You snorted a little, laughing at yourself for the silliness of your last statement, even though it was true.
The rumble of Steve’s purr changed as he chuckled, his strong arms tightening around your waist for a moment before he grabbed a blanket and pulled it up over your cooling bodies. “Figured, ‘mega,” he rumbled, his voice so warm, you could hear his smile. “Doesn’t mean ‘m gonna stop picturing you round with my pup, even if it’s a while before that happens.”
“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment, then pouted as you processed his words. “As long as it’s not a long while,” you muttered, hardly listening to what you were saying because you were so close to sleep.
Steve chuckled again, his hands squeezing you lightly. “It’ll be as long or as short as you want, baby,” he assured you in a gruff voice that was thick with just as much tiredness as yours. “I’d give you a pup today if I could.”
You smiled, your heart filling with emotion, and pressed your lips to your alpha’s neck. You might’ve been exhausted, but it didn’t stop you from murmuring the words your heart urged you to say, “I love you, Steve.”
Steve’s purr deepened, and he held you close, no hesitation in his voice when he said, “I love you, too.” Your alpha brushed a kiss to your cheek and smacked your ass very lightly. “Now rest, omega, we still have to get through the rest of your heat.”
You fell asleep with a smile on your face, feeling safe and protected and satisfied in the arms of your mate, your bodies still locked together by Steve’s knot. You never would’ve expected anything to come of your crush on your neighbor—and you never would’ve expected he’d be a perfect fit for your desires, let alone your mate.
But, you knew the two of you were going to live a happy life together—and you couldn’t wait to spend every moment of it with the alpha next door.
(I sincerely hope you like it! It feels like forever since I’ve written something like this, let alone something spicy.)
Entrapment
A talk. That’s all this meeting was suppose to be. Just a simple and civil discussion about the upcoming court proceedings regarding the divorce and what would be happening afterwards regarding your relationship with the family (especially Damian), nothing more. So, how did it end up like this? How could it have possibly strayed so far off track?
~~~~
You weren’t too surprised when you got a call from Bruce. He often went between nonstop blowing up your phone to not reaching out to you for days at a time, you were getting more and more used to it by now. You of course didn’t answer it, your lawyer had advised you not to after your telling them of how Bruce was throughout your entire relationship with him. His tendencies and the way he behaved when it came to you. Your lawyer wasn’t exactly completely believing of it, and that was pretty understandable given some of the things you had divulged to them (if you hadn’t lived and dealt with it yourself you would have had a hard time believing it too) but they decided it was better to be safe than sorry and advised you to not interact with Bruce outside of them. And so you hadn’t and you didn’t plan to either. That was until you listened to the voicemail that he had left behind.
He had an offer. He wanted to meet in person and discuss this whole situation, one on one. He wanted to come to an equal agreement outside of having to go to court. And as much as you hated it it sounded like it might be the better option. There was no pretending that this divorce would go in your favor, there were just too many things going against you. Bruce had the money, he had the means to get the best damn lawyer in Gotham and fight this to the very end. Not to mention that this divorce would be very public in general given just who it involved. And he could very easily get the media on his side, tarnishing your image as a whole. Not that you cared too much for that, you had planned to leave Gotham behind anyway after the divorce was final but the thing that got you the most was the rest of the family.
You adored Alfred. Not only was he simply one hell of a butler but he had been so good to you throughout your marriage to Bruce. Even though you two hadn’t been married that long, Alfred was still very much a support to you and what you went through. He didn’t completely agree with what Bruce did or how he went about things, you were your own person and he tried to remind Bruce of that on many occasions, but there was only so much he could do. And it wasn’t just Alfred you cared about, you also loved all of Bruce’s kids. Once you married Bruce they didn’t just become your family, they were your babies too. And you still wanted to have them in your life and you knew Bruce would hold them over your head no matter which way this divorce went.
Sure, the rest of the family had been involved to some extent with what Bruce was doing in your relationship, especially when it came to keeping you isolated and cooped up in the manor. But as far as you saw it that was all due to Bruce’s influence, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually believe that they would willingly go along with it of their own accord. Or that they even gave Bruce ideas to begin with to keep you by his side and with them as a result. You just couldn’t possibly think of them like that, you just couldn’t. So, it of course scared you at the thought of being completely cut off from the people you had opened your heart to. You still wanted to be there for them, still be a part of their life but just at a safe arm’s length away instead of how it was before.
The more you thought about it, mulling it over and over again in your head, this offer was sounding like the more beneficial thing to do. You did still have love for Bruce of course, you just didn’t want to be in that kind of situation again and you knew the only way to prevent that and keep yourself safe was to step away from him and any form of romantic relationship with him.
~~~~
The day was finally here for the two of you to meet and you couldn’t help the anxiety that washed over you. You never truly knew what Bruce would do, what he was really thinking in the moment. He was unpredictable like that. He could come off oh so charming and inviting, it was scary how easy he could lure you into his trap. And you knew better than anyone what it was like to be caught in that snare. That was what your whole marriage had been with him after all, just one big entrapment.
Even when you were briefly on the phone with him to set up this meeting you couldn’t contain the tremor of nerves you had just hearing his voice again. You really did miss it, you missed him. But this needed to be done. For the both of you. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.
Seeing him face to face again was something else. He looked good, he looked like he was taking care of himself again. That was a far cry from how he was the first few months after you left. He was a mess and it showed. That alone almost had you going back to him just so he’d be alright but you knew what came with him being back to himself and you couldn’t put yourself in that position again. You just had to remind yourself that this was it and it would soon be over for good.
Bruce greets you with open arms, you’re not quick enough to back out of his reach before he’s already enveloped you in his hold. He’s warm, he’s always been so warm. And his hold is tight, longing but not as suffocating as it used to be. And just as you’re beginning to feel yourself unconsciously fall into his warmth just like you used to so many times before, welcoming his touch again, he pulls away. For a split second you want to reach out to him and feel his touch all over again but you remind yourself that this isn’t what this is anymore. It can’t be.
Once the two of you are settled you start off talking small talk and everything seems good, everything seems okay. Bruce asks how you’ve been, if you’re doing alright with everything that’s been going on. He seems caring. He seems like he genuinely wants to know how this has affected you but you remind yourself yet again that this isn’t what you think it is. He then moves on to talking about the family and how they have been holding up through out this process, everyone’s taking it hard. Dealing with it in their own way but it seems Damian is the one who is taking it the hardest. That’s what you had feared. You worried about how Damian was taking all of this, how he was being effected by it. He was such a guarded kid, so closed off. You felt terrible having to put him through this, as well as the others but it’s what needed to be done. Right?
It isn’t until you try to bring up the original topic of discussion, the entire reason for this meeting in the first place, that you see how this wasn’t remotely the meaning of this meeting. You barely caught sight of Bruce’s jaw clenching when the words left your mouth, that was enough insight for you to know that this wasn’t at all what it was meant to be.
It’s obvious that it’s the last thing he wants to do, you can tell. He’d rather talk about anything else other than that. It’s one thing to ask how you’ve been regarding it or talking about how the rest of the family’s been taking it in but he doesn’t want to actually get into it. He’s avoiding it, of course he is. You can’t blame him but this needs to be over with.
“Bruce.” He tenses. It feels like it’s been forever since you said his name, he’s missed hearing it from you. He wants to hear it over and over again, like a mantra. God, the way it hit him when that’s all you could say as he thrusted so deep into you, just his name rolling off your tongue repeatedly. Fuck he missed it. He missed you.
“Remember, we’re meeting here for a reason. I don’t want to take up much more time than we need to. So, could we get to it?” Business. That’s all this was. Bruce hated it. Of all things, this is what brought you out of hiding? This is what opened you up to seeing him once more?
No.
He wouldn’t take that as an excuse.
He just wouldn’t.
“You’re right, (Name). Let’s get to business.”
~~~~
Without a doubt in your mind this was his intention all along. Of course it was. How could you see it any other way?
Bruce was calculating. He proved that more than once since you have known him.
It showed I n how he talked, the words he said dripping off his lips one after another, the sweet nothings he filled your head with.
In how he touched you; the placement of his hands, the way his fingers brushed you, the methodic way they curled deep inside your warmth.
But more importantly he was the most calculated when it came to fucking you. He knew you better than yourself, he spent your whole entire relationship learning and memorizing your body. What you wanted, what you needed. What exactly drove you to the deepest depths of pleasure. He knew it all. And he certainly knew how to use it to his advantage.
Each thrust, deeper than the last, was all so cunningly planned out. The way he grounded his hips into yours, the way he clutched you so close, melding himself into you, opening you up even more to take him completely. Every single move was so irrevocably mapped out.
~~~~
Your warmth. Oh, how much he’s missed it. How much he’s fucking craved feeling it wrapped around, enveloping him whole again, only for him to feel. You have no idea how many times he’s touched his throbbing cock to the thought of it, to the thought of having you sprawled out under him again. You have no fucking idea.
Once he has you right where he wants you, completely lost in the ecstasy of it all, he allows himself to finally give in to his own blinding pleasure.
No more calculating.
No more cunning.
No more being methodic.
No more.
Now it was all solely his mindless self indulgence. His once slow, deep thrusts turned into rapid, savage pounding. His kisses were more aggressive, sloppy. His touch was burning hotter than ever as he gripped and grabbed every piece of you he could.
At this point, Bruce let himself get lost in it. He let himself fall into the deepest, darkest pits of his desires. All he wanted now was to chase that feeling he’s been left without for so long, over and over again.
One after another, he released everything he had deep inside you. Again, and again, and again. All of this; all of his pent up anger, hurt, passion, everything he had bottled up inside throughout this whole shitshow of a situation, he was free to let it all go.
After the haze finally let up, Bruce was left basking in the aftermath. He couldn’t have felt better than ever before. He had you again, he had you here in his arms and it wasn’t a dream this time. You were the real deal and he couldn’t have been happier.
He couldn’t help but look at you,, watching you, taking all of you in again just like the many times he used to before. You were a fucking mess after everything and he absolutely loved it. He did that to you, he made you that way. And he took great pride and pleasure in it. He left you so full, both with himself still inside you (he just couldn’t bring himself to part with your warmth again) and all his cum. This was how he wanted to stay. This was how he wanted to be.
Placing his large hand on your stomach, he caressed it tenderly. There was no way you wouldn’t fall pregnant after this, he had made sure of it with all the times he filled you with his seed. He wanted you pregnant, he wanted you filled to the brim with his baby. He needed to have you tied for life and what better way to ensure that than by bringing a new life into the world together.
You wouldn’t be able to get away from him now. This had been yet another way to entrap you, to keep you in his grasp and Bruce wasn’t going to leave any room for you to wriggle out of his reach again.
“Let’s start anew, (Name). After all, we’re going to have even more of a reason to work things out now.”
Pairing: Felix Catton x fem! Best friend! Reader (also minor mentions of: Oliver quick x fem! Reader)
Synopsis: Tension and jealousy finally come to a head after you see your best friend Felix fucking another girl.
Content warning . Drug & alcohol use, watching without permission? possessiveness, friends to lovers with slight angst, dark! Ish reader // degradation & praise, facefucking, pnv, size kink, choking, breeding, mean! dom! Felix
If you ever explain how your best friend usually treats you, it can only be summed up into one word: gentle.
He treats you like glass. A beautiful, priceless artifact that requires great care. He pays for everything you own— your dresses, handbags, shoes. Even where you live, the infamous Saltburn estate. Every time he speaks to you, it’s like he’s speaking to a pet— sweet, gentle, but commanding all at once. In his eyes, you’re an innocent angel…or, as he puts it, a sweet bunny.
And you fucking hate it.
It doesn’t bother you in the sense that Felix cares for you; quite the contrary, in fact. You like his warmth, how protective he is, how sweet and kind he can be.
But he treats you too kindly. Too much like his other friends, too much like his sister, too much like a companion.
Not enough like a lover.
It seems that he’s completely oblivious to your longing stares, the way you follow him around and practically worship the ground he walks on. He never seems to grasp why you sit in his lap at parties, squirming around just a little too much, or why you cuddle up to him in his room when you’ve had a nightmare in your skimpy nightdress. He stares off into a space between and kisses girls right in front of you.
You want him to treat you like the sluts he brings home.
The whispers of how the boy fucks is something you’ve grown accustomed to. The girls you had become acquainted with who had slept with him, giggling to you about how much of a good lay he was. How mean, how brutal he was. How big he was.
‘This doesn’t bother you, does it? God, I know it’s weird because he’s your best friend ‘n all, but I don’t understand why you haven’t done him yet. I would’ve thought… y’know, given how close you two are...’
It makes you sick, knowing he does it to other girls and not you.
And now, sitting on a couch at one of Felix’s infamous Saltburn parties, you watch as he does it once again.
Your nose slides across the glass table in front of you. Two people sit beside you, making friendly conversation, but you can’t focus on them. Your nose is filled to the brim with glittery white powder as you stare at Felix’s new side piece through your faux lashes.
He’s got her in his lap, this girl. Olivia is her name, or something like that. You don’t like her. She’s too needy, clinging onto him a little too much for just a simple hookup. His hand grabs her hip as she presses kisses to his neck. He’s laughing, splayed across the leather couch across from you, as she whispers dirty phrases into his ear. You can tell that that’s what she’s doing because she’s grinding against him like a bitch in heat. It makes you stomach churn.
“(Y/N!)”
Your head looks up, and Farleigh stands in front of you. You give him a smile, though it’s mostly fake. You love him, but you can’t stop thinking about Felix.
Felix and her.
Farleigh chats with you about some guy he’s about to go and hook up with, telling you his whereabouts as a safety precaution. You nod to him as he leaves.
Felix has his hand up her skirt, now. He’s gripping her ass and rocking up into her clothed cunt.
You can’t look any longer.
You stumble to your feet, the room spinning a bit before turning to normal. An intoxicated kind of giddiness flows through you, and you brush past the couch and try to get Felix off your mind. You spot one of his new companions— Oliver. He’s quite handsome, you think. A little weird, a little quiet, but he’ll do for sure.
It isn’t long before you’ve got him in between your thighs in an empty corridor, a buzz flowing from your toes up to the crown of your head as he thrusts his tongue mercilessly into your drenched heat. He draws circles into your clit and laps at you like he’s parched. Oh, he’s good. Practiced, precise. He loves to please.
But he isn’t Felix.
Although Oliver’s tongue is skilled, it isn’t necessarily that that gets you to your peak. When you cum, you think of a familiar brunette with an eyebrow piercing, a wide smile, and dreamy eyes.
You let Oliver fuck you against the wall, after that.
It feels good. He’s big, rough, mean. Just how you like it.
Just how you want Felix to be.
You decide not to return to the party.
—
Your bare feet pad against the tiles of the Saltburn estate, your heels in your hand . The hallway is empty, save for one or two stragglers. No one really comes to this side of the house. You’re attempting to walk— or in this case, stumble— to your room. But everything is blurry, your feet dancing, and—
Shit, is this even your hallway?
You don’t know, really. You’re drunk, high. You don’t give a shit.
Your fingers are dancing across the walls, admiring the intricate paintings placed on each one. You lick your lips and taste a tequila shot, your dress askew. Fuck it.
You’re admiring The Fallen Angel by Alexandra Cabanel when you hear them.
It starts out slow— a deep, guttural moan, from the door to your left. It translates into a familiar voice, growling.
“What?” It teases. “Is my cock too much for you? Too big, huh?”
And then another sound comes through the thin walls and slightly opened door. A high pitched whine, pleading.
“Felix! Please, it feels so good.”
Your brows furrow. Drunken confusion. You silently creep up to the door, wondering. Your eyes peek through at the scene.
The color drains from your face.
Of course it’s Felix. Felix and her.
He’s got her bent over an expensive wood table. He’s pulling her hair, pressing his hips into her with every push and pull. She’s got her mouth open as her eyes roll back in ecstasy, and her cunt swallows him whole.
Your shoes drop to the ground in utter shock.
Now that seems to grab the pair’s attention. Felix looks back, and his eyes catch your dilated ones. He curses, slipping out of her and trying to conceal himself as he pulls his pants up. The girl catches sight of you, too, and she’s instantly pulling down her top and throwing her clothes on.
“Christ, Bunny!” Felix exclaims, flushed. “The fuck are you doing all the way over here?”
Your bottom lip wobbles, but you won’t cry. Not in front of him. Not in front of his whore.
You turn before you even know what you’re doing, and you scurry away from the scene with tears running hotly down your cheeks.
So much for parties.
—
When you wake in the morning, you’ve got a pounding headache and you’re sprawled out on your bed.
Your body aches, and you whine as you turn over on your side. The memories of last night flood back into your psyche, and you want to throw up. Of course the one thing you don’t want to remember is buried so prominently into your skull that it’s the first thing you think about.
It’s not like Felix hasn’t fucked anyone before. But seeing it, actually watching him do it to another girl, makes you sick. You don’t know how you’re going to look him in the eye at breakfast.
You stand up on wobbly legs. You make your way to the bathroom, throw your guts up at least twice, and then brush your teeth. A warm shower calms you down, though your head still hurts. You’ll have to take some ibuprofen later.
You make your way to the dining room in a juicy tracksuit and brown ugg boots. You slide a pair of sunnies on your face to protect you from the blinding sun, letting out a pained moan when it shines through the large stain glass window.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Farleigh coos from the table. You give him the middle finger before plopping down in a seat beside Oliver. His eyes scan over you, taking in your appearance. His knee bumps against yours, and he whispers a quiet ‘good morning’ to you.
God, he’s a clingy little shit, isn’t he?
Felix’s eyes follow your every move. Usually you sit next to him in the mornings, but as of right now, why bother? The closer to get to him, the more vivid the image of him fucking her comes into your mind.
You swallow down a few pieces of toast and some orange juice. Elsbeth is talking about a party reserved for Oliver for his birthday, one that they will host this weekend. How absolutely and utterly fan-fucking-tastic.
Oh, well. You’ll be able to dress up, at least. That’ll probably be the best part.
You ignore Felix for the entirety of the day. There’s still that fire coiling in your gut everytime you look at him, that hot bubble of rage and jealousy. Oliver looks up at you through long eyelashes during a game of tennis, and you find the way to satiate that heat.
—
It’s an awful idea. A terrible, mean, despicable idea.
You knew Felix would be out. It was around five pm— the time when he usually begins coming back to the house from his afternoon run. He would be back in twenty to thirty minutes.
“You’re incredibly fucked. Do you know that?”
Oliver whispers it huskily, pleased, as you push him down on a set of familiar satin sheets. You smirk, your cunt grinding down onto him.
“And you’re not?”
He grunts as you unbutton his shirt. You kiss down his chest, soon getting rid of your bra and top. You rock back on him slowly, teasing. His hand moves around to grope your ass, but you grab ahold of his wrist.
“Are you going to behave?”
A smirk plays on his lips. You want to slap it off of him.
“No.”
You snake your hand down to his bulge, giving it a considerable squeeze. He lets out a tiny gasp, biting his lower lip.
“What was that?” You say, almost threatening.
He gulps. He looks almost cute with the blush dusting across his face.
“Yes.” he whispers. You ghost your fingers over his waistband.
“What was that?”
“Yes, I’ll behave.”
He hisses it, and you’re pleased.
“Good boy.”
And then when he’s inside you, you bounce on him like your life depends on it. You look up above Felix’s bed, at the framed picture of you and him. He had hung it up, and for that you’re thankful. You concentrate on the way photo Felix’s fingers tightly grip a shot glass. Oliver lets out tiny whines as you clench around his cock, and you grind your clit against the base of him. You know that Felix catches you both when you look back at the slightly cracked door and see him there— blue headband, muscle tee and shorts. When you lock eyes, he moves away from the door and down the hall with a clenched jaw and cheeks blooming red.
—
The days pass from one into three, and soon it’s Oliver’s birthday. Felix has avoided you, much to your dismay. You thought he would give in sooner. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he was trying to pretend the situation didn’t happen altogether. But the hard stare he gives you whenever he sees you, the clenching of his hands, and the plain ignorance of your presence gives him away.
You’ve decided to dress as a Bunny for Oliver’s infamous costume party. Your favorite animal, but also another way to piss Felix off. Wearing a pink bodysuit, sparkly fishnets, and pink bunny ears, you make your way into the party beside Venetia, who’s ranting about her current situationship with some girl she met at a club. Scanning the crowd, you take notice of Felix from across the room. Angel wings sit on his shoulders, his eyes lined with a black eye pencil. He’s wearing a white wifebeater.
You go to the bar and take a few shots to stifle your nerves. Felix’s eyes follow you as you grab a bottle from the bartender and make your way outside.
It isn’t long before you’re absolutely plastered. Giggling to yourself, you make your way towards the hedge maze in the backyard. Felix’s voice, the one he hasn’t used to talk to you directly for a few days, interrupts your diddle daddling.
“We need to talk.”
You keep walking, him trailing behind you.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Felix.”
His big hand grabbing your arm and spinning you around to look at him surprises you. He glares.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
You back away, winding through the labyrinth of bushes. Felix groans as you begin to skip around each corner.
“This isn’t a game, y’know!” He calls, as he tries his best to keep up with you. It isn’t long before you’re both standing in the middle of the maze. The stone statue overpowers the both of your bodies as it leers down in a violent pose. You smile crookedly when Felix stalks over to you, making a beeline for the other side of the statue. It doesn’t seem to be funny to him.
He catches you when you least expect it, grabbing you by the shoulders.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, (Y/N)?!”
He yells it, infuriated, deep vocal cords strumming. It makes you jump. He never calls you by your real name.
He purses his lips, anger evident on his face as you smile up at him still.
“‘M jus’ having fun, Fel. Whats wrong with that?”
“What’s— what’s wrong with—“ he laughs, dry and humorless, as he pushes you away from him. “Whats wrong is that you fucked my friend in my room! What the hell went through your head?!“
You clench your teeth.
“I don’t know, Felix,” you utter sarcastically. “I really don’t know. Call it irritational horniness. But tell me. Are you mad? For once, once in your fucking life, are you mad?”
“Of course I’m mad!” he seethes, as if it’s obvious. “But why do you want that? What prompted this?”
You avert from his piercing gaze, turning your back on him. Your cheeks are flaring with heat from how he’s treating you, your inner thighs wet and sticky.
God, this is so wrong.
“I think you know.”
Genuinely confused, Felix throws up his hands. He’s exasperated.
“No, I don’t. I don’t, (Y/N), so tell me. Tell me the damn truth!”
“The truth?” You say, finally. “‘S that what you want?”
You whirl around, anger finally taking over in your usually pliant, doe eyes.
“The truth, Felix, is that you treat me like a kid!” You yell. Your voice cracks, and you hate it. “You treat me like a fucking child! Like your friend! Like a… like a—“
Your breath heaves, and you try to find the words you’re looking for. Felix looks at you, his brows furrowed.
You can’t open your mouth anymore, too distraught, too open. You’re saying all the things you promised you’d keep buried deep inside you.
Felix takes a step forward. You take a step back. Your lower back hits the stone statue, and you wince at the way it digs into your skin.
“What are you saying?” He asks, careful with his words. You laugh bitterly in his face— at least, as close as you can get to his face. He towers over you like a giant.
“I’m saying that after all this time, after all these years, I thought you’d notice how badly I want you. But clearly not, with the way I caught you fucking that cunt last weekend.”
The words finally come out— slurred because of your drunkenness, dry because you’ve given up. You’ve given up on Felix, on the possibility of him ever returning the feelings you’ve always had for him. You’ve given up on your friendship, on his kindness. You don’t want it anymore. Why continue this if it’s only going to hurt you?
The boy is stunned into silence for a mere moment.
“What?”
You turn away from his stare, looking down at the ground.
“You heard me, Felix.”
His eyes follow your lips, nose, eyes. His lips part ever so slightly, and his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black as realization settles over him.
“So that’s what you want?”
It comes out hushed, like a secret. His breath is hot against your lips as he leans in close to you.
“All this time you’ve been acting like this.. all because you want me to fuck you? Because you’re jealous?”
You stare up at him in a daze, silent. Your cheeks flare with embarrassment. You jump when Felix lets out a chuckle, something grating and deep, that permeates your bones and worms its way inside your guts.
“God, you’re sick.”
He scoffs, moving forward on his long legs. His big hand wraps itself around your hair and tugs. You let out a gasp as he tilts your head back, the burn of your scalp making your legs clench together.
“You’ve been torturing me for weeks—“ he spits, yanking at the roots of your hair even harder, and you let out a squeak. “— Not speaking to me, making me question what I could’ve possibly done wrong, fucking my friend in my bed, all because you want to me treat you like some whore?“
Your mouth gapes open, and you’re frozen like a deer in headlights as Felix finally gives you what you want. He continues to speak, but not before his knee is coming up to rub in between your thighs. It’s such a sudden movement, so aggressive, that your legs buckle and you grab onto his shoulders for purchase. His hands splay across your hips, moving you in tandem across the fabric of his jeans.
“Don’t worry.” He says. “You’ll never have to worry about that again.”
“Felix—” you start, but his hand slapping you clear across the face makes you lose all words. Your cheek flares with heat from his hand coming down on it, and you grasp the red mark in pain.
“Was he good?” he growls, grabbing the hand touching your face and putting it in his much larger one. He places it over his crotch, and you feel the giant bulge against the fabric. “Was he as big as me? Did he fuck you the way you thought I would?”
You shake, stuttering on every phrase in your vocabulary. Felix grinds into your hand.
“You think that I don’t want you like this?”
It comes out strained, tortured. Like it’s painful for you to even assume that. Your mouth waters at the feeling of his girth underneath your palm.
“I’ve never been this hard for anyone,” he breathes. “I jerked my cock every night when you were in my bed because I thought it was the closest I could get to you. I fucking…God, do you even know what you do me?“
He works his thigh against your pussy, and you whine desperately as you pull away from his assault on you. You kiss your way down his chest, worship his body, lave your tongue over the skin peeking out from his unbuttoned shirt as you sink down to your knees. Your hands fumble with his belt, waiting for the moment when his cock will be released and you’ll finally get what you’ve been begging for. He grunts, tilting his head as he watches you desperately fumble with the leather around his waist.
“Already trying to suck me off? You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”
You press your mouth against his thigh and practically drool at his words. He looks down at you like a God, golden angel wings splaying out in the moonlight for you to gape at. How ironic it is, that he decided to wear this costume tonight.
“All for you, Felix,” you say, pulling his cock out of the confines of his jeans. You gape at his impressive length.
“That’s right,” he agrees, his thumb brushing over your lip. “Now put me in your mouth. Show me how much of a fucking slut you are.”
You do as you’re told, tongue lolling out to lick a stripe up his shaft. He clenches his jaw, watching as you hold eye contact with him when you take his dick into the warm, wet confines of your mouth. His hand wraps around the nape of your neck and he pushes you down onto him. Choking, your nose hits the soft bed of pubic hair trimmed neatly at his base. Your eyes roll back as he begins to fuck your throat, pleasure and electricity flowing through your head and down to your toes. The corners of your mouth burn as he stretches out your mouth.
“Didn’t know you could take dick so good,” Felix muses, his balls slapping against your chin. “If I would’ve known how badly you wanted this, I would’ve slid my cock inside you the night you caught me with that girl.”
That girl. He can’t even remember her name. It satisfies something dark that’s been blooming in you since you saw him sticking his dick where it didn’t belong.
You moan around him, spit trailing down your neck as you tongue at his slit. Your hands grip his big, meaty thighs, and it occurs to you just how strong he is. He could break you, rip you apart piece by piece, and you couldn’t do anything about it. The thought arouses you to no end.
“You pissed me off so fuckin’ much that night, y’know that?” He rambles, his thighs squeezing the sides of your face. He’s practically trapping you against his cock, and you try your hardest to breathe through your nose but you can feel your vision blurring at the edges. “You caught me in the middle of it, didn’t even say sorry. Didn’t help me finish. You’re a sick little bitch for watching me fuck her. I bet you touched yourself after that, didn’t you? Touched your little cunt thinking about the way I used her?”
You whimper around him, your fingers attempting to move down and rub against your clit. But Felix lets out a sound in the back of his throat and kicks your hand away.
“Don’t. You don’t get to cum tonight. You put your hands on me, or you don’t put them on anything at all.”
Your hands wrap around the back of his thighs, then, as you hollow your cheeks around him. You’ll do anything he demands you to.
After a long moment of being face fucked with only a few breathing breaks in between, your throat is scratchy and raw. Felix yanks you off of him, and you wheeze as you’re thrown to the ground, your hand going to your throat as your eyes drip with citrine tears. Felix stands for a moment to let you catch your breath. He’s still your best friend, after all— he cares about your well being, as angry as he is right now.
It isn’t long, however, before he’s grabbing you up by your elbow and bending you over the marble statue. Your cheek lands on the cold stone, the crotch of your bodysuit is ripped open, exposing your lace panties and the fat globes of your ass. You stick yourself out for him, moaning as he rips your underwear off of you and throws it on the ground. He spreads your legs and coos at your dripping cunt.
“Oh, look at that,” his fingers go to either side of your pussy lips, spreading them apart and revealing your teeny tiny hole. “It’s clenching s’much, isn’t it, sweetheart? It’s all swollen ‘n red. It’s been so worked up all night, I bet.”
“Felix,” you cry, a blubbering mess. “Please.”
He chuckles, rubbing the tip of his finger against your clit. You quiver underneath his touch, gasping when his aching cockhead suddenly brushes up against your entrance.
“I want to know how badly you want me. Tell me, darling. Tell me how pathetic you are.”
“I want it,” your voice comes out small, weak. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs. Wan’ you to stretch me out on your fat cock, Felix. Give it t’me, pleasepleaseplease…”
He lets out a dreamy sigh, feeling you trying to clench around the tip of his cock, trying to suck him in. Your head is fuzzy, your cunt throbbing. You need him more than you need air.
“Okay,” he lets out, whispering. It’s an oddly gentle tone, and you know it’s because this situation could change the outcome of your friendship forever. “Okay, sweetheart.”
He pushes forward, the fat tip of his cock popping into your entrance, and you let out a mewl. Felix is big, and not just in his height or his shoulders. He stretches you so deliciously to the point where it’s borderline painful.
“Oh my god,” he grits his teeth, his head tipping back. “God, you’re a tight little thing. So tiny..”
You know he’s talking to your pussy now, drunk off the way you’re wrapping around his shaft. He moves slow, gentle strokes against your aching pussy, his fingers digging bruises into your hips as he struggles to contain himself.
Your cheek is smushed against the hard surface below you, but that doesn’t stop you from speaking.
“It’s okay,” you assure him, moaning. “Destroy me, rip me apart.. I don’t care, Felix.”
He moans along with you, a sound of pure, unleashed pleasure. His hips speed up, and he fucks into your cunt with reckless abandon as your nails dig into the marble below you. His cock is so deep that you can almost feel him in your throat.
He angles at a spot inside that has you keening, your hips fucking back onto him as he rams into you. Your nails scrape against the statue, tears running down your cheeks.
“Felix,” you moan out, but it’s hard to speak as the breath is being knocked out of you.
“Mmm,” he hums, grabbing your hips. “‘M gonna cum. ‘M gonna cum in your sweet little pussy.”
“Please,” you gasp. “Please, fill me up, fill up my pussy!”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” His arms lift your body up, and his biceps curl around your neck. Your eyes widen as he tightens his grip, placing you in a chokehold underneath him. His hips slap against yours, his steady words bordering on a whine. “You want me to cum inside you? Get you all pregnant and full? Mmm, that’d be a pretty sight, wouldn’t it…”
You clench down on him. He growls, a sigh of your name tumbling out of his mouth. His hips stutter. And with one last harsh thrust, he’s cumming. His warmth fills you to the brim and spills over the cusp as he fucks into you, teeth scraping against your neck as he bites down and leaves a mark. Sweat drips drown your temple, small pants escaping your lips as you try to swallow oxygen into your lungs. Felix’s arms are still wrapped around you neck, but they aren’t wrapped tight enough to cut off your air completely.
Definitely tight enough to bruise, though.
He slows, after a few more moments. You still grind onto his overstimulated cock, and he squeezes your throat in warning.
“What did I tell you? You don’t get to cum tonight.”
Your face becomes blotchy with tears, and you sob as he pulls out of you. His cum spills down onto the concrete floor, your pussy gushing with his seed, and you want to scream.
“But Felix,” you babble, grabbing onto his arm as he tucks himself back into his pants. “No, baby, please—“
“This is what you wanted,” he replies, nonchalant, as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out. His glances down at the creamy spend that had fallen out of you and onto the ground. Grabbing you by your hair, he pushes you down onto your knees. He gestures to his cum, licking his lips.
“Now clean that up,” he demands. “Wouldn’t want to leave a mess, would we?”
For @whatafuckinnerd . I hope this helps your Frenchie fixation <3
Pairing: Frenchie x F!Reader
Summary: Gun running is rarely so elegant but when Frenchie meets you, the boss of the operation, he’s determined to show you a romantic approach can put a smile on your face.
Warnings: Power play, jealousy, gun play, smut
(Possible proof reading and French grammar errors. I’ve not studied it since I was 16)
*Please do not replicate my work anywhere else without my express permission*
______________
Another day, another gun deal.
Frenchie followed his associates into the grimy apartment block with a practised confidence so as not to draw attention to himself. He made a show of hefting the sports bag on his back like it was heavy, all a great act should anyone be looking his way.
Once inside and in the elevator that smelled like marijuana and the faint scent of alcohol, they reached the apartment and knocked in the way they’d been told how.
The apartment was much nicer than the outside of the building, no doubt paid for with the cash from weapons smuggling and drug dealing. Frenchie could actually call it pretty homely.
“Give me the bag,” Jackson, his tertiary contact, clicks his fingers and points to the table.
Frenchie was used to this level of rudeness by now but he still tsked all the same through his teeth. Manners cost nothing.
“Hey, sweetheart, they’re here,” Jackson turns and calls over his shoulder, emphasising the scar from his neck to his cheek where he’d been glassed five months ago.
“I’m not your damn sweetheart,” a voice says with razor sharp venom before you come into view, carrying a slew of rifles.
How about Homelander x reader (breeding) for Hotchner's Whore Kinktober 2023?
If There Is A God
Summary: Ever since Homelander found out he is able to have a child, he’s been on the mission to have more. He’s had his eyes laid on you for a while from his harboring crush and decides to finally pursue his dreams.
This was written for kinktober, using the space “breeding”
A/n: I hope you like it Anon! I actually had a lot of fun writing for Homelander so there may be more working coming this way about him.
Work is kicking your ass and all day long your eyes have been wandering to the clock. As much as you love working for Vought, some days get dragged on way too long. It’s not like you’re even that important of an employee being a secretary, but they still work you to death. The only good part is that you get to see the supes every day. They’re all pretty nice to you even though you’ve definitely overheard them being dicks to Ashley and Matilyn (back when she was alive, rip). You think it’s because you’re nice to them and aren’t in the middle of their business, but you never know.
As soon as the clock reads four pm, you bolt out of your desk and go straight to the parking lot, not even waiting for the next secretary to come in. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you’re not sure why. You swear you could feel someone staring at you, but looking around the parking complex, you don’t see anyone. Nervously, you get into your car and immediately lock it before starting it up and driving home.
You park outside of your apartment in Williamsburg and head inside. For some reason, you still have the odd feeling that someone is watching you. As soon as you’re inside, you lock your door and windows, closing up the entire apartment. Your cat welcomes you with a lot of whining and rubbing against your leg.
“Hi, Beans.”
Beans meows at you and he nuzzles his head into your leg. You pick him up like a baby before sitting down on your couch and turning on the tv. There are more important things to be done like eat and shower, but after this long ass day, you need some basic lazy entertainment. The first channel to come on is the news, making you roll your eyes and groan. You have enough of the supes at work, you don’t want them to infiltrate your home life either.
Just as you’re about to change the channel, a glass shattering sound comes from your kitchen. Beans jumps and arches his back in fear and your stomach drops. You grab the nearest thing to you which is a lamp on the side table next to you. Walking slowly and delicately, you peek through the doorway to the right of your living room, trying to see into the kitchen without being seen by anyone who could be in there. Your stomach stops hurting as soon as you see there’s no one in there. You scan the room before thoroughly believing there’s no one in it.
You turn around to go back to the living room but you scream and drop the lamp at the sight of a familiar man standing behind your couch, arms crossed, and staring at the tv. The same blonde, intimidating, prick of a man from the tv and your work stands there watching himself on the screen.
“Homelander?”
He turns to face you with the same dick head smile he normally sports. He’s dressed in his every day “pro-America” suit, cape hitting your dirty wood flooring. Beans is squatting in the corner glaring at him, not liking his sudden company.
“Hi, Y/n,” he smiles, “how are you?”
You’re not sure what to say to him considering he just broke into your apartment.
“I remember that speech,” he laughs pointing at the tv.”
The speech in question is from his little outburst at his birthday event. The whole country was stunned at his words talking about how powerful he is. A lot of people sided with him, others didn’t. No one really knew what to think. You remember that next day, Ashley was a hot mess. She kept pulling her hair out and screaming at random interns who had never talked to her before. You felt bad for her. She has a lot of things on her plate after Stillwell’s passing, including reigning in Homelander and his ego, but there was no stopping him after this.
“I do, too,” you say, nervous to tip him off in any way, “it was powerful.”
“Thank you. It feels so good to hear that. Everyone wants to complain about it and the internet… they’re trying to ‘cancel’ me. Crazy.”
You nod your head at him, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. Homelander keeps smiling before sitting down on your couch and changing the channel. He looks over to you and pats the couch cushion next to him.
“Please, sit. This is your home.”
Nervously and slowly, you walk over to the couch and sit next to him. He stares at you for a moment, his smile never fading, before looking back at the tv and flipping through the channels. You try to lean back and relax, but you find your body moving further away from the supe. He doesn’t notice fortunately as he leans back himself and puts his feet on your coffee table. Sitting so close to him, you notice how large of a man he is. Broad shoulders, square jaw. He has to be at least six foot two.
“Hard day at work?” He asks.
“Just slow.”
It’s like two people who have been set up on a blind date with mutual friends. Neither of you two really know what to say to one another.
“Homelander?”
He turns to you with raised eyebrows, his arms now hanging on the back of the couch.
“Why are you here?”
Homelander chuckles and hangs his head as he points at you.
“Not that I’m complaining, but we’re not really friends. Why are you at my apartment all of a sudden?”
“That… is a very valid question. I’m here because I want to be friends.”
“You do?”
“Yes, y/n. I think you are really special and beautiful. I want to get to know you more.”
Hearing Homelander call you beautiful is a strange experience. Five years ago, before you started working for Vought, this would be a fever dream come true, but now having worked there and seeing what he’s like behind the curtains, you’re not sure. Sure he was handsome and you may have had a few dreams here and there about America’s hero, but this is not the American hero you idolized.
“Well, thank you. I’d like that.”
You’re not sure if you mean those words, but you’d do anything to please him right now. There’s no reason he should have another meltdown, especially in your home. Homelander scoots closer to you where your thigh touches his. His arm is practically around you with it resting on the back of the couch. You feel your heart rate getting faster and your body getting warm. You can’t tell if it’s from being nervous or horny or both.
“You know,” he pipes up, “you’re one of the best secretaries Vought has ever had.”
“Really?”
“Most show up late or slack off, but you, you’re always so punctual. I know a lot of people whose jobs would be harder if you weren’t around.”
“That’s very sweet of you to say.”
“Oh, that’s just me,” he laughs, “sweet. I won’t lie, I have admired you for quite some time now.”
“Oh?”
“You’re a hard worker and I appreciate that,” Homelander raises his hand to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, “You’re always kind to me and the others in the Seven. Even Noir has expressed his appreciation for you and he doesn’t speak.”
You smile at the compliment, but the feeling of him brushing his fingers down your cheek is distracting. Never in your life did you think one of the supes would show interest in you, let alone it being Homelander.
“You’re smart, beautiful. Your partner is extremely lucky.”
“I uh,” you chuckle, “I don’t have a partner.”
Homelander wears a fake face of shock. He knows you don’t have anyone like that in your life, but hearring you say it out loud satisfies something in his brain.
“I don’t believe it, you’re a catch. How has no one swept you off your feet?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” you laugh nervously.
“That’s a shame really,” his hand gets closer to your chin and turns you to fully face him, “anyone would be lucky to have you.”
You notice his eyes flicker between your eyes and lips. It doesn’t dawn on you until now how close he is. You can feel his breath against your neck as he gets closer. Instinctively, you close your eyes from the proximity, waiting to feel him press his lips against yours but it doesn’t come. Opening your eyes, you see him smiling at the sight of you.
“Oh baby, how I’ve wanted this.”
Then Homelander smashes his lips into yours, almost pushing through to your teeth harshly. He grabs your face and holds you in the kiss, his hands being the same size as the side of your face. You give into your little crush and kiss him back, making him smile. You climb on top of his lap and he grabs your ass, slapping it hard and making you squeak. He stands up, holding you like it’s nothing and slams you against the wall beside your tv.
Homelander latches his mouth onto your neck and bites hard, drawing blood from your skin. With one hand holding you, he uses his other hands to grab your shirt by the collar and rip it down, exposing your breasts. You lend your head back against the wall as he sucks on your boobs, biting your nipples hard. If it didn’t feel so nice, it would almost be painful. You look down at the supe to see him really enjoying it, not realizing how much of a boob guy he is.
He throws you back on the couch and licks his lips at the way your breasts bounce as you land. He grabs your pants and pulls them down violently. It’s as if he’s a man who just found water after spending months in the desert, desperate and needy for you. You swear you could see saliva pooling in his mouth as he gets on his knees at the end of the couch. Homelander grabs the end of his pants and pulls them down.
One thing you’ve never thought about is the effect being a supe would have on certain body parts. The second Homelander pulls his cock out, your eyes go wide with both shock and slight fear. He smirks at your reaction, thinking about what a gift he is and how lucky you should feel to have his large cock being presented to you. He doesn’t ease you into it and instead, puts his dick near your entrance and thrusts in hard and rough. It burns as he goes balls deep inside, hitting your g spot exactly on. Your head gets pushed into the armrest from the force he uses.
Grabbing your hips, he thrusts hard and fast, like a horse in a race. His pace is ruthless, hitting your g-spot over and over again harshly. Your body feels like it’s on fire and you almost can’t breathe, but it feels so good. Your body involuntarily starts shaking from the pleasure as you scream, feeling your orgasm bubbling up and closer to being released. Right before you do, Homelander pulls out and picks you up.
Homelander carries you over to the side table by your couch and bends you over on it, your ass in the air. Your ass stings as he smacks it hard, leaving a handprint perfectly on your cheek. The squeal sound that comes out of you signals him to go. Homelander pushes his dick back into you and fucks you so hard that the legs of the table scrape against the floor. He bends over and bites your neck as he pounds into you relentlessly.
The feeling of him thrusting in and out of your pussy is unbearable. His large girth makes it feel as if he’s ripping you apart. Your orgasm bubbles up again as he leans back and grabs your throat, choking you.
“So fucking perfect,” he groans, “Like you were fucking made for me.”
“Oh my god,” you cry out.
“If there is a god,” he laughs, “it’s me.”
You feel your eyes roll back into your head as your orgasm pushes through. You cum all over Homelander’s enormous cock. It encourages him to go faster and harder, drawing louder and higher screams from you. He laughs as he slaps your ass, not giving you any time to recover.
“Fuck, I want to fucking fill you up with my seed, baby,” he groans, “watch you fucking swell up with my kids. Create the perfect fucking children.”
You don’t bat an eye at his words, knowing supes can’t have children. His words make you even wetter and you can feel your orgasm bubbling up again.
“Please homelander, please,” you beg, “I need you so bad.”
Listening to yourself beg for him is astonishing. You never though you would be in this position, with Voughts number one supe fucking you balls deep in your core. His hair falls in front of his face as the sweat drips from him. Every ounce of anger inside of him is taken out on you as he continues to slap your ass, making it red and swollen. It stings as he hits harder and harder. Your stomach gets tight as you feel yourself cum from the contact, creaming on his cock again from the pain and pleasure.
Right when you think Homelander is almost done, he pulls out one more time and throws you back onto the couch. He puts you in doggy, but he squats over you and reinserts himself. In this new position, he’s able to go fully inside you, his pelvis hitting your ass. It’s unbearable as he fucks you deeper than before and it makes him chuckle.
“Such a fucking whore for me and you’re going to take every fucking drop of my cum, you here me?”
“Yes… yes sir.”
“Call me master,” he orders.
“Yes master!”
“Good fucking girl, now take all of this fucking cum and swell.”
He pounds harder and harder, chasing his orgasm until the end. His pace starts to falter as he gets closer, but he’s determined to keep it up. Your body feels as if it’s being ripped apart as you’re pushed into the couch. Your screams are muffled by the couch cushions. The sounds of the tv changes as Homelander puts the news back on to his speech coverage. Turning your head, you’re able to get a glimpse of the coverage. Seeing the different sides of him turns you on even more, realizing you’re getting this darker, more feral side of him.
“Fuck, I want you to have my babies. Keep fucking making perfect like me’s. Just swell with the perfect product of me.”
You get tighter from his words, getting ready for your own release once more. Homelander grabs your hair and pulls your head up. You can just barely see him above you smiling like a maniac.
“Do you want that baby? You want to carry my perfect creations?”
Nodding your head, feeding into his delusions. He smiles at you and pulls fully out before slamming back into you, hitting the back of your walls. He groans louder and louder as he comes closer to his edge.
“Fucking take it.”
You feel Homelander spill inside of you, filling you with every ounce of his cum. You moan as you come as well, your third and final time. Homelander laughs as he pulls himself out of you and lays down on the couch, pulling you to lay on top of him. You try to catch your breath as he runs his fingers up and down your back.
“I have wanted to do that for such a long time,” he admits.
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, it's always been you. Ever since you showed up that first day.”
You feel yourself get warm and flustered as his words.
“I knew you would be perfect to carry my children.”
“Yeah it’s unfortunate.”
“What is?”
“That you can’t have any.”
“Oh no, dear, did you not hear? Us supes are not as irreproducible as you thought.”
Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open
Summary: Slapping Billy doesn't go the way you think it would.
CW: slapping, rough sex, name calling
The Boys: (send an ask to be added to an ask list!)
___ ___ ___ ___ ___
It wasn't necessarily an accident, but it wasn't on purpose either. Billy had been up in your face for the last twenty minutes telling you what a filthy whore you were for him with his dick buried balls-deep in your cunt. He was that mean kind of dominant that you lived for deep down— your best well-kept secret.
But he was getting a little too mean, a little too cocky, and you'd slapped him. Not hard, mind you. Just a little wake-up call to snap him out of it. And the look he'd given you? Sent chills of pleasure down your spine. He stopped thrusting to look at you, a wide, massive predatory grin spreading over his features.
"That's how you want to play, eh, love?" Punctuated with a brutal thrust right into your g-spot. "You slap like a girl. Do it again. Harder."
Your hitched breath had given way to a yelp at that hard thrust, and that cocky glint in his eye had you clenching around him tight. You slapped him again, a little harder this time. Billy shook his head and tutted comically with his tongue.
“You call tha’ a slap, do y’ah? Pathetic.”
You grunted with frustration, but the harsh slap to your clit that he gave you stopped that right in its tracks. You slapped him once more, hard. He groaned, eyelids fluttering with pleasure.
“That’s more fucking like it, love,” he growled, gripping you by the hips and slamming inside you over and over, not caring about the way your entire body began to shake with the pleasure of your oncoming orgasm.
“Once more love, eh? One more and you can fucking cum like the pathetic little whore you are,” he grunted, panting and fucking himself into you so harshly you were worried about bruising on your lips. Not that you could really think about the ramifications of that behind the fuckdumb haze clouding your thoughts.
Between your pants and mewls of pleasure, you managed to land one more hard slap to his cheek and Billy snapped, surging forward to bite down on the join between your neck and shoulder almost hard enough to draw blood.
His hips jack-hammered against your cunt and between the relentless stimulation of your g-spot and the bite on your shoulder, you came. Roiling waves of pleasure made you scream out his name, your body jerking like a pornstar possessed.
You couldn’t control the way you moaned and jerked against him, and when he finally pulled his teeth off your shoulder, his eyes were practically black with desire.
“My little fuckslut, eh? Yeah, tha’s right. You know what you are,” he grunted, pressing a hand down on your chest as he got closer to his own orgasm. “Been fucked absolutely fucking dumb, haven’t you?”
You nodded mindlessly, overstimulation starting to set in.
And then he finally came, his chest rumbling as he fucked his cum into you. His head rolled back with pleasure as he finally let go, and the way his fingers squeezed against your chest had you grunting too.
Fuck, you think you’ve discovered something new about yourself today.
BETWEEN TWO WORLDS: PART ONE | DARK!JORDAN LI X READER | IMAGINE |
PAIRING: Jordan Li x Reader
SYNOPSIS: Recent Graduate Jordan Li's first job is to watch over a new patient, Y/N Y/L/N. little did they know that they'd be doing more than just watching.
WORD COUNT: 656
WARNING(S): Protective!Jordan, Intern!Jordan, Evil!Professor Brink, Mention of Sam, Trapped Reader, Dark!Jordan, Supe!Reader, CONTAINS DARK CONTENT!! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
In the depths of Godolkin University's subterranean facility, Y/N was held in isolation.
For a year, she had been confined to this clandestine laboratory, her extraordinary powers deemed too dangerous by Vaught.
Her gift, a byproduct of Compound V, allowed her to instantly heal anyone with a single touch. But the darker side of her abilities had not escaped the attention of her captors - she could also inflict harm with a touch. It was the latter that had consigned her to this shadowy realm beneath her college campus.
The isolation was maddening, and Y/N's only solace was the occasional conversations she had through the ventilation system with her neighbor, Sam. Their voices carried through the air ducts, their connection born out of shared desperation and loneliness.
But everything changed when Jordan Li arrived at the facility.
Jordan, a recent graduate, was beginning their first day as an intern in the facility under the supervision of Professor Brinks.
Professor Brinks and his associate, Dean Indira Shetty, had hatched a plan to use Jordan's unique abilities to manipulate and befriend Y/N.
Jordan had the extraordinary power to shift between genders, a trait that Professor Brinks saw as a valuable asset in their mission to infiltrate Y/N's world.
On the day of their first meeting, Jordan had transformed into their female form.
As she sat in their cell, Y/N heard a new voice through the vents.
"Hey," the soft voice said, "I'm your new neighbor. I'm Jordan."
Y/N had been longing for human contact for so long that the sound of another person's voice sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. "I'm Y/N," she replied cautiously, "Nice to meet you, Jordan."
They talked for hours that day, sharing their stories, fears, and hopes through the cold, metal ducts that separated them.
Jordan, in their guise, was gentle and understanding, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of connection. They made each other laugh, and it was as if a small beam of light had pierced the darkness of their lives.
As the day turned into night, Y/N finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep.
Unbeknownst to her, that was the moment Jordan used their power to shift once more.
Jordans male form entered y/n's room slightly waking her up from her slumber, introducing themself as "J" when the morning light filtered into her cell.
This dual identity allowed Jordan to be both a patient and a caregiver, observing Y/N from different angles to see who she would trust more.
Over time, J began to spend more time with Y/N, offering comfort and companionship. They played games, shared secrets, and discussed their dreams.
Y/N was drawn to J's kindness and found herself confiding in them more and more. It was the perfect setup for Professor Brinks and Shetty's plan.
But as time passed, something unexpected happened.
Jordan, now completely immersed in Y/N's world, became obsessed with her. They wrote about her in their room, detailing every conversation and shared moment. They collected photos of her and discreetly placed them throughout their small living space, creating a shrine to the girl they were meant to manipulate.
Y/N remained blissfully unaware of Jordan's dual nature and the sinister purpose behind their presence in her life. She believed she had found a friend in this underground abyss, a beacon of hope in the darkness.
And as for Jordan, they teetered on the edge of obsession and guilt, torn between their orders and the genuine connection they had formed with Y/N.
The stage was set for a twisted and complicated tale of manipulation, friendship, and the struggle between a captive with incredible powers and a captive with a fractured sense of self.
In the depths of the facility, two souls, one captive, and one captor, were drawn inexorably together, each harboring secrets that could change everything.
KINKTOBER 2023 ♤ WEREWOLF!SANEMI X RED RIDING HOOD!READER
A/N: I would apologize for the utter lack of plot, but we all know why you're here. You can have plot later; for now, enjoy some 9.5k words of pure monster porn. 13.4k words total.
CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • werewolf fucking x F!Reader • knotting/mating • breeding • tummy bulging • so many creampies • like a concerning amount of cum • Sanemi half-transforms and has fangs/claws • slight blood mention • spit kink • oral sex (F!receiving) • Reader gets fucked stupid tbh • mildly violent/potentially upsetting content at the end but I don’t want to give anything away
You awoke the next morning not upon a bed of pine needles or curled against an overlarge piece of driftwood but cushioned against warm skin and rocky muscle.
Your eyes fluttered open, squinting against the watery light of morning, having not seen the sun since you’d first entered the Netherwood more than a week earlier. But the clearing by the river Sanemi had led you to the previous night meant fewer trees, and so, the dull gray of morning was visible above your heads where you’d slept curled atop the Huntsman’s broad chest.
You rolled your head against his sternum, peering up at the soundly sleeping Woodsman, admiring the peaceful serenity of his slumbering face.
His chest rose and fell steadily as he dreamed, and you could not stop yourself from allowing your hands to wander, to explore this Wolf who was to be your mate.
Your fingers began at his forehead, brushing his silvery strands back and exposing the cross-crossed scars lanced across his forehead. You traced each one, marveling at the shiny, smooth texture beneath your fingertips.
You danced your fingers over and down the features of his face and to the hollow of this throat. You then ventured lower, grazing over the thick scars rippling across the exposed portion his chest.
With a hard swallow, you allowed your hand to drop lower, teasingly traipsing down the ridges of his abdomen until you came to the waistband of his breeches.
Your eyes lowered to the seam of his pants, breath lodging in your throat at the rigid bulge that had formed at his groin.
You held your breath as your hand graced lower, your curiosity a tug in your gut not capable of being ignored.
Before you could brush your hand against the bulge, a warm hand snagged around your wrist, halting it in mid-air.
“Lamb,” Sanemi’s voice was thick with sleep but full of warning. “May I ask what you’re doing?”
Feeling bold, you threw a leg over Sanemi’s hips, rolling yourself atop him and pressing your groin flush against his, breath hitching as the rigid formation in his pants brushed against the sensitive spot between your legs.
“Wolf,” You mocked his tone, though your breaths were jerky and short. “Touch me again.”
A low growl reverberated from Sanemi’s throat, his fingers digging into the plush of your thigh, though you could not tell whether it was out of his wavering restraint or mounting desire.
When he did not move his hands, you bucked your hips against his, pushing against his groin in impatient demand.
Your name fell from his lips, choked and guttural. “If you keep doing that,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “I will not be able to stop myself.”
You leaned forward, lips grazing the vein protruding in his neck, savoring the way it thrummed under your touch. The blunt tips of Sanemi’s nails bit into your skin as he snarled against your neck.
You only smirked at his fraying restraint. “Then don’t.”
Sanemi gently but reluctantly pushed you off him, though his hands lingered against your waist, his fingers tracing circles.
“Didn’t your grandmother warn you never to provoke a hungry beast?”
“She may have, once,” you conceded with a sly grin, your fingers slipping below the waist of Sanemi’s breeches to tug him forward so that his hips were pressed against yours once more. “But I was never particularly good at listening.”
“A bad habit you’ve carried with you into the Wood, it seems,” the Huntsman agreed. “And you’ve made me quite ravenous, little Lamb.”
You squeaked as Sanemi’s hands braced around your waist and he promptly lifted you off him and plopped you unceremoniously on the pebbled shore beside him.
“But I, unlike you, possess a morsel of self-control.” He shot you a sly grin. “I can wait until we get to my den.”
“You certainly had no compunctions when it came to tasting me last night.” You grumbled.
Sanemi lifted an eyebrow as his lips quirked up in a smirk of his own. “And taste you again I shall,” he purred, sitting up. “But I want you spread out across across the floor of my den — not here, in the open.”
Sanemi rose to his feet and swiftly began gathering your supplies, preparing for the trek ahead.
“How is your wound?” He called conversationally as he fastened his traveling cloak around his shoulders.
You’d not given much thought to the gash Kaigaku had inflicted upon you the day before, and your stomach dipped at the thought of your skin stretching around the tender flesh.
Only, to your slight confusion, you really felt no pain at all; none of that burning, sharp aching you’d felt all the previous night until Sanemi had distracted you with his wicked fingers and even more wicked tongue.
“My leg!” You gasped, your skirts bunched in your hands as you pulled them back, damning propriety as you exposed its bare length to the Huntsman.
To your shock, all that remained of the wound inflicted by Kaigaku’s knife was a thin, reddish scar, as though the injury was several weeks old as opposed to mere hours.
You pressed the tips of your fingers against the thin stripe of skin, testing it. “It does not hurt, either!”
You looked back to Sanemi though he seemed nonplussed in contrast to your wide-eyed bewilderment.
“At least I won’t have to carry you anymore,” the Huntsman’s tone was teasing as he fastened his worn traveling cloak around his shoulders. “You constantly grabbing fistfuls of my fur was starting to get annoying. I thought you were going to leave behind bald patches.”
You gaped at him. “Does it not concern you that my wound magically healed itself overnight without a drop of medicine?”
“Not particularly, no,” Sanemi held out a hand to help bring you to your feet. “Not when it’s my mark you bear upon your skin.” He said with a naughty wink.
You accepted his assistance with a huff, secretly marveling over the calloused, steady warmth of his touch as you righted yourself. “It’s humbling to know that, despite you spending the evening with your head between my legs, you continue to be as vague and elusive as you were when we first began this journey.”
Sanemi, who had turned away to adjust the various knives he kept strapped on his belt and in his pouch whipped back around to you. He frowned at the bemused yet vexed expression you wore.
“I don’t mean to be withholding,” he said after a moment. “I am just — unaccustomed to this,” the Huntsman motioned back and forth between you.
You returned his frown. “Talking?”
“Ye — no,” Sanemi ground his teeth for a moment, struggling for his words. “It is not the conversation part I find difficult. That part has been easy — with you, at least.”
Your cheeks warmed as the Huntsman continued. “It’s the…intimacy of it.” He scrunched his eyebrows in thought. “Sharing the details of what I am with someone who does not already know them.”
Your irritation melted into something lighter, as a slow grin spread across your face.
“What?” He snapped.
“How serendipitous,” you said coyly. “You once found yourself irritated by my questions and now it seems you’re in need of them.”
Sanemi shook his head, muttering softly to himself as he secured his satchel around his shoulders and turned back, waiting for you to follow him back into the Wood. “Trust you to find amusement when I try to be serious.”
You only smiled as the pair of you set off, shoulder to shoulder, to begin your trek not towards any human village resting on the other side of the Netherwood, but to Sanemi’s den.
“What is a den anyway?” You kicked a small pebble, sending it skittering off into the brush. “Is it a literal wolf’s den?”
“A cave,” Sanemi’s tone was relaxed even as his eyes remained sharp, his nostrils flaring every so often to scent out any potential threat hidden in the shadows. “I s’ppose it is pretty close to what you think of when you consider wolves’ dens. We use them for mating, or for our heats.”
“You can go into heat without mating?”
“Aye,” he answered. “Our heats don’t happen often — maybe once or twice a year.” Sanemi looked back to you in thought. “I do find it ironic that our paths crossed right before a Blood Moon.”
You frowned. “And what is a Blood Moon?”
“Simply put, it is an eclipse,” Sanemi’s fingers moved to brush your cheek. “One that makes the moon appear crimson. But for wolves — cursed like me and those born — it is a time when our strength is at its peak; but we are also more unstable. Wild.”
You felt an excited chill pass over your skin. “But what does that have to do with your heat?”
The Huntsman only shrugged. “Blood moons can trigger heats behind the usual cycle; they can be stronger. More intense.”
“Which is why,” Sanemi reached over where you walked beside him and flicked your nose. “Your cloak is important, Lamb.”
“Speaking of that, you once warned me about the color of my cloak,” you frowned, pinching the fabric between your fingers. “You said red can symbolize many different things.”
“Aye, it can,” Sanemi held out a hand to help you over a particularly rocky bit of terrain, not letting go until he’d ensured you reached even ground. “I am surprised your Grandmother did not warn you of that.”
You felt slightly defensive of the old woman. “She may not have known. It’s an old cloak. It was an heirloom.”
“I highly doubt she did not know its import,” Sanemi disagreed, casting a sidelong glance your direction. “I told you it was enchanted. It has been acting as a ward against those in the Wood that would do you harm.”
“Cloaks like that are not just made and sold to unsuspecting villagers. Those who desire them, do so for specific reasons.”
You frowned, thumbing the fabric. “And what of the color? You’ve yet to tell me what the red means.”
Sanemi’s cheeks pinkened. “Red is an important color to wolves like me. It is the only color we can see.”
Your head whipped towards him with a soft gasp. “You mean — you cannot see other colors?”
The Huntsman shook his head, his eyes roaming the path before you. “Only the red of your cloak.”
“And its meaning?” You pressed.
Sanemi hesitated. “Red has been understood to be a mating signal. A declaration that one is unmarked but willing.”
You gaped at him. “So that day — the day we met,” you managed, your cheeks warming. “You thought I was — that I was offering myself to you?”
Rather than flush further, Sanemi laughed — a rich, velvety sound that filled you with warmth.
“No Lamb,” he said affectionately. “I didn’t think a scared little thing like you even knew what that cloak meant. Especially when you looked half-ready to pass out when you saw me.”
You crossed your arms self-consciously in front of your chest. “I’d been running for over a day, and the Wood is terrifying.”
The Huntsman’s hand found yours and he laced your fingers with his. “And yet you found me all the same. Perhaps the cloak worked.”
He lifted a hand to your shoulder, where his mark sat below the heavy fabric of the crimson hood. “After all, I am no longer taking you to another human village; I’m taking you somewhere so I can utterly defile you.”
Your thighs clenched together, his words sending excitement, coarse and hot, cascading through your veins. “It is not defilement when I am begging for your touch, Wolf.”
Sanemi tugged on your hand, pulling you against his chest and surprising you with a soft kiss, his thumb stroking your chin.
“Beg you shall, my darling Lamb.” He murmured against your lips. “So let us speed up our step so I can hear those sweet pleas.”
You giggled as Sanemi led you deeper into the Wood by your hand, your cheeks flushed pink and your stomach tittering with excitement at the prospect of what the moonrise would bring.
—-
It was late afternoon when Sanemi slowed to a stop.
You slowed beside him and followed his line of sight, looking down a small valley to see a series of small, interconnected rocky formations peppered throughout the ravine.
You exhaled softly. “Is that—?”
Sanemi nodded. “My den is just over there,” he pointed to a mass of moss-covered rock about halfway down the valley. “Though you cannot tell from this distance, it’s fairly deep on the inside.” He glanced down at you, eyes softening at the exhilaration upon your face. “We will not be disturbed.”
You tore your eyes away from the peaceful spread of land, the soft slopes of the mountainous terrain appearing so out of place with the murky darkness of the Netherwood. “And this is where you go every time you go into heat?”
“Aye, when wolves are unmated, it’s best for us to be alone,” Sanemi blushed slightly, a hand jumping to rub at the back of his neck. “To weather it alone, that is.”
Your hand found his and squeezed gently. “You won’t have to any longer.”
The Huntsman’s answering smile was warm as he tucked you into his side, kissing your hair.
“Come,” he said. “Let us get set up for the night.”
———
Sanemi had spoken the truth; though the cave had appeared small and unassuming from the outside, once he parted the thick ivy curtain which obscured the entrance from the sight of any wandering passerbys, you could see the mouth of the stone gave way to a comfortably large, rocky alcove.
The wall was set back about twenty feet from the cave’s entry. On one side, you spied a series of unevenly spaced ledges that Sanemi appeared to use as shelves, a cluster of odd-shaped packages wrapped in cloths of various fabrics resting upon the sediment.
Across from the little storage area was a thick pile of animal furs, soft and in pristine condition. Each was piled atop the other, creating a pad several inches thick that would serve as a barrier against the dirt-rock floor of the den.
Your eyes lingered on the pelts before you turned to Sanemi, head cocked in question.
Sanemi’s gaze darkened as it flitted between you and the furs. “A nest,” he explained, his voice turning to gravel. “To make the heat more comfortable.”
He paused for a moment. “Had I known I’d be finding myself a mate, I would have brought more. I was expecting to endure my heat alone —“
“It’s perfect,” you cut him off, hand covering his in assurance. “It’s all perfect.”
Sanemi brushed your hair back, hand caressing your face. He nodded towards the makeshift shelves on the opposite side of the nest. “Provisions,” he said. “I came here just before you found me to stock up on dried meat and fruits — and water.”
He nudged your foot shyly with his own. “And trust when I say you will need your sustenance.”
The suggestion in his tone was enough to make you step into him, heat pooling sensually in the depths of your stomach.
“Sanemi,” you whispered, and the Huntsman’s breath quickened. “Kiss me.”
Soft lips moved softly against your own, but it was not enough. With an eager gasp, you pressed forward, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, your teeth tugging at his bottom lip in silent request.
Sanemi opened, and your tongues melded together, both of you sighing deeply into the other as you breathed him in.
You walked him back, Sanemi allowing himself to be led to the edge of his nest. You pushed lightly on his chest, and he lowered himself, the Huntsman’s hands sliding down your waist and to your hips, tugging you down with him to straddle his lap.
Your legs wrapped around his waist as you rest against him. As the two of you settled against the soft furs of the den nest, the Huntsman’s hardening length pushing against the sensitive spot between your legs, causing you both to gasp.
The Wolf’s chest rose hard and quick as you pushed your hips down against his once more.
Sanemi was panting against your mouth as you ground down once more against his crotch, mewling at the way his hardening bulge connected with that spot between your legs that made your toes curl.
“You must keep your cloak on,” he managed to whisper against your throat as he nuzzled against your skin.
At the first sound of the whimper building in your throat, Sanemi pushed your hips down against him, rolling his clothed groin up into yours. “I will still remove your dress, little lamb,” He huffed a quiet laugh skimming your jaw with his nose. “But the cloak is for your safety.”
“I do not wish for you to take me safely,” you whined, “I want you to take me as your mate.”
The declaration that you intended to accept the bond made the huntsman groan, his grip on your hips tightening as the fabric of your dress gathered beneath his palms.
“Be careful what you wish for, woman,” he warned, nipping at the tender spot beneath your ear.
“I will mate you, little lamb, but you are human.” Sanemi pulled back to face you, a warm hand coming to rest against your face as he gently, but firmly, forced you to meet his eyes. “And it is the full moon; it will be hard enough to restrain myself from transforming while I take you, even with your cloak on.”
Sanemi’s eyes shut tightly and for a moment, it looked as though he was in pain. “But were I to shift while claiming you right now, I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t harm you. It is a risk I will not take, lamb.”
A warmth spread through your chest at the consideration and care the roughened man continued to show you, even as his heat only continued to heighten, evidenced by the ever-growing swell beneath his trousers.
The flutter in your stomach was tempered as your mind processed his words. “But you will shift while taking me? One day?”
Sanemi hesitated for a moment before nodding, and it was a struggle for you to refrain from clenching your thighs together. The wolf’s eyes were concerned, if not timid, as they searched yours. “Does that frighten you?”
The only thing that frightened you was how excited you felt at the prospect of Sanemi fully transforming into his fearsome, powerful wolf form as he pressed you into the pelts of his bed, but you weren’t about to confess that to him right then.
So you only shook your head, your fingers rising to gently caress the scar jutting across his cheek. “No, my wolf; that does not scare me at all.”
A pale eyebrow quirked up as a small smirk pulled at Sanemi’s lips. “So I am your wolf now, little lamb?”
“If I am to be yours, then you are to be mine, no?” You kissed him again, moaning softly at the soft fullness of his lips as they moved easily against yours. “Doesn’t the mating bond go both ways?”
Sanemi’s eyes were full of wonder as they roamed your face. “It does,” he whispered. “What you feel, I shall also, and likewise.”
“Then that makes you, my wolf.” You answered simply, smiling slyly. You leaned down to kiss him once more, your arms winding around his neck. The Huntsman groaned, his hands roaming the curves of your body, until they came to rest against your chest.
“Allow me,” Sanemi said gently, fingers coming to unlace the stays on your outer corset. “I’d prefer for you to be undressed before the moon rises.”
You grinned. “You just want to see me bare.”
“Aye, that’s true,” the Wolf chuckled, the sound sending goosebumps over your skin as his fingers deftly unwinding the cords keeping the garment secured. “But I also don’t want you trying to skin me for having destroyed your only set of clothing in my haste to have you my way.”
You mocked a pout. “But the cloak must stay?”
“Yes, you seductive little thing; your cloak stays for your protection.”
You groaned, huffing in annoyance as Sanemi finally undid the last lace of your corset and cast it aside. He pushed you back to sit against the pelts, kneeling before you to unlace your boots.
Once he’d set aside the worn leather shoes, the Huntsman focused his attention on the pair of long wool socks that went just over your knees. You tried to keep from squirming as his warm hands brushed against the bare skin above the tops of your socks, but the Wolf seemed intent on teasing you as much as possible. As he worked each sock slowly down your leg, he allowed his fingers to teasingly drag along the sensitive skin of your upper thighs.
You fought the urge to clench them together, your teeth gnashing together as you willed yourself not to shiver beneath his tantalizing touch. But you could not control the rush of arousal which flooded you, and your cheeks turned scarlet at the way Sanemi’s nostrils flared slightly, scenting you, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“So eager, little Lamb,” he simpered, allowing his fingers to drop to the space above one of your newly exposed ankle and massaging it. “So enticing.”
You glowered at him. “You know precisely what you’re doing, and I won’t fall for your little game.”
It was a lie, and you knew it as well as he, for all it took was a quick press of his lips against the crease between your shin and knee to have you whimpering, hips involuntarily bucking as you grew desperate for him to continue.
“It would not take much for me to have you begging, Lamb,” Sanemi warned, eliciting a gasp from you as he nipped the sensitive skin of your thigh. “Be grateful I will be in no mood to tease once the moon rises.”
You whined as Sanemi’s hands removed your skirts one at a time, and then your shift, slowly peeling back each of your layers until you were bare beneath him.
He pulled away once, to remove his cloak and the billowy linen shirt he wore, and then his boots. Left in nothing but his breeches, he knelt before you on the pelts, covering your trembling body with his warm solid form.
Your fingers jumped to the ties on his breeches, but Sanemi jerked his hips out of the way. At your small whine, he chuckled, his lips beginning a descent down your body from your neck.
“I first need to taste you,” he said simply between the soft nips he trailed down your torso, breaking up each prick of his teeth with alternating licks of his warm tongue.
Your small pout was quickly chased away by the electrifying sensation of Sanemi’s lips drifting closer and closer to where you wanted him most and you settled back against the furs, a tiny smile tugging at your mouth.
You spread your legs wider to accommodate his mass, so lean yet so solid, the muscles on his chest looking as though they’d been carved from the finest stone by only the most skilled of masons. Against the flickering light of the small fire he’d lit inside the cave, Sanemi’s hair was reminiscent of starlight, and his eyes, locked steadily with yours, glimmered like two, precious stones.
His mouth trailed lower, sweeping across your hipbones as he drew nearer to your core, Sanemi groaning softly as he scented your arousal where it pooled between your legs.
Your hands drifted to your naked breasts, your fingers pinching and tugging at your soft peaks as you nudged your hips forward, silently begging Sanemi to bestow upon you the same pleasure he’d given you the night before.
The Huntsman did not need a great deal of convincing. Hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you wide open, he surged forward and latched his mouth to your eager cunt.
Sanemi devoured you like a man starved.
He was sloppy; his face was pressed firmly against your center, jaw working furiously as his tongue lapped between your folds before dipping inside of your entrance, savoring the way your tight walls cinched around the wet appendage, before he pulled out and repeated the movement. The sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs could not rest, not between alternating brushes of the tip of his nose and the graze of his teeth as feasted.
Every so often, he would pull back, leaving only the tip of his tongue flicking against your bead, his face shiny with your slick, as he watched your face, the way your eyebrows knit and how your lips parted to let loose your breathy, desperate whimpers and pleas for more. But that brief moment of respite as he observed you rarely lasted more than a few thunderous beats of your heart before the Huntsman swooped down upon you once more, thrusting his tongue deep into your entrance and curling up, brushing against a spot within you that had you screaming his name.
One hand gripped your thigh harshly, his nails digging into the soft inner skin as he pulled you harder against his mouth, groaning between lewd slurps and smacks against your cunt. The other made its way towards your entrance, his fingers dragging lightly over the soft, fatty underside of your backside before settling at your opening, teasingly circling it.
“I can see you clenching,” he muttered between harsh sucks at your pearl. “Do you long to be filled, Lamb?”
Speech was difficult, but you managed to nod desperately your throat remembered how to make sound. “Y-yes!” You could hardly hear yourself over the roar in your ears as you chased that ascendant feeling building steadily in your gut. “P-please, Sanemi — I feel so…s-so empty —“
The Wolf seemed to be in a charitable mood, for he swiftly plunged two of his fingers into your core, burying them right down to the joint. Half a beat later, and Sanemi crooked those thick, calloused digits, fingertips massaging your inner walls until your thighs vibrated around his head, and his name left your mouth in a small shriek.
The Huntsman’s lips latched around your sensitive nub, alternating between sucking and licking, making you writhe against the furred pelts of the nest. The thumb of the hand working steadily at your entrance stretched up the length of your cunt, pressing firmly against your pearl and rotating in small circles, so he could continue to stimulate you even during those brief few seconds when his mouth would pull away from you so that he could swallow your juices like it was the finest nectar.
Your cries bounced off the walls of the cave den, the coil in your cut winding tight, your entire body shaking beneath the furious ministrations of Sanemi’s mouth against your cunt.
Sanemi’s head dipped down to plunge his tongue into your opening, right alongside his fingers and you came undone, the soft pelts beneath you disappearing as your body ascended high through the clouds of your pleasure.
Sanemi moaned as he drank from you, his free hand moving from your thigh to your hips to help you grind against his face, his eyes rolling back slightly as he savored your sweet taste.
Your dizzying high gradually guttered out, letting you drift softly back down against the pelts, your skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
The Huntsman imparted two, final licks against your hyper-sensitive folds before drawing back, his tongue running over his lips to collect the last traces of your juices that still lingered around his mouth.
“When we get home,” Sanemi’s voice was husky, as he brought the fingers he’d hand inside you to his mouth, his tongue carefully cleaning your essence from his digits. “You are to spend an entire day sitting upon my face while I feast. You will not move until I’ve had my fill.”
His vow made your stomach flutter and your mouth go dry. “You mean that was not enough?”
Sanemi’s answering grin was wolfish. “Not in the slightest, Lamb. You provoke a hunger in me that I fear cannot be sated.”
He leaned down over you, hand firmly cupping your jaw to part your lips as he slotted his mouth over you. His tongue slid into your mouth to caress yours, and you moaned at the musky, sweet taste of yourself still on his lips.
He broke the kiss with a wet smack. “So we shall start with a day and see how well you please me. If I am still unhappy, then you shall have to remain there until I am otherwise satisfied.”
“And what of my satisfaction, Wolf?” Sanemi’s grin only widened at your challenge. “So far, I’ve heard talk of only yours.”
The Huntsman’s fingers grazed your dampened slit, still so sensitive from what he’d done with his mouth that you hissed lightly, as he covered your body with his own.
“Have I not pleased you enough, sweetling? My sincerest apologies.” He mocked, rolling his clothed groin against your bare one. He dipped his head low, sucking one of your breasts into his mouth before kissing his way up your neck to your chin, stopping to let his lips just hover above yours. “We shall see if you’re still feeling so cheated once my cock is buried inside you, hm?”
The reminder of what was about to transpire in a matter of minutes as the sun dipped lower and lower below the horizon outside the cave stilled you, momentarily breaking through the lusty haze in your mind.
“Sanemi,” the seriousness in your tone drew the Huntsman to a halt, his eyes flicking to yours, his hands stilling.
You gulped. “It will hurt, will it not?”
Sanemi’s eyes softened, and his fingers began rubbing soothing circles into your skin, his touch gentle. “It will at first, yes.”
You nodded. “Do you think — can we start before moonrise?” Your hands found his and squeezed, pleadingly. “If it is going to hurt, I would prefer to do it before your heat sets in.”
Sanemi’s hand pulled away from your grasp to hold the side of your face, tilting your head until you had to meet his gaze.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sanemi’s fingers were delicate as they caressed the curve of your cheek. “You do not owe me anything; I would not dream of asking you to do anything you did not want.”
You parroted his touch by stroking a thumb softly over the scar that crossed his cheek. “I am certain that I want you, Wolf.” You leaned in and pressed your lips gently against his before pulling back. “I ask only because I want that moment to belong to you. Not as my mate, but as the man I’ve chosen to spend my days beside.”
“So please,” you entreated, pressing yourself closer against your Huntsman, your other hand toying with the faint trail of silver hair that spread across his bared pectorals. “Before you claim me as your mate, make me yours, Sanemi.”
The Huntsman’s breath was ragged. “All right, then,” one warm hand wrapped around your waist, its heat somehow burning through the layers of your skirts and shifts. “As you wish, Y/N.”
There was a beat as Sanemi nuzzled your nose with his. “But the cloak stays on.”
He chuckled at your small harrumph, quieting you with the sweetest of kisses, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Nice try,” he murmured against your lips, before rolling you beneath him.
Sanemi kissed his way down your body, a low growl vibrating in his chest as he neared your waiting core, but he held back, pulling off you to raise up on his feet, his hands coming to rest against the front laces of his breeches.
The Huntsman held your heated gaze as he slowly unlaced the leather cord securing his breeches. Without breaking the connection, Sanemi leisurely worked the soft deer hide down his hips and over his thighs, unveiling his toned lower abdominals and strong, muscular thighs.
Your eyes traced over every ridge and dip of the Huntsman’s nude body, cheeks growing hotter and hotter as your gaze dipped down lower.
There was that faint, silvery trail of hair that began just below his navel that had first made you view the Huntsman in a different light, all those days ago. That trail led down past his hips, right where the evidence of his desire stood proud, and waiting.
Sanemi’s manhood was thick and long, its tip level with his navel. It was a few shades darker than the rest of his skin, the head a pinkish color that seemed to grow deeper the longer you stared, as though sensing the events about to unfold and eager to move them along.
You’d seen him nude before, but this time was different. For now, Sanemi’s nakedness was about to belong to you as much as yours was to belong to him.
Sanemi turned slightly to the side to discard his breeches, placing them atop the many layers of your skirts and shift. From that angle, you spied a faint hump near the base of his length, almost imperceptible in the orange, flickering light of the cave, that you nearly mistook it for a trick of the shadows.
“Is that —?” Your voice faltered with your blush.
Sanemi’s answering smirk set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Though you’d seen him in a far more compromising position between your thighs, his beauty still had a habit of catching you off guard.
“Aye,” his voice was both silky and rough as he drew closer to you. “That will be my knot, once it fully forms.”
The Huntsman knelt down beside you on the soft pelts covering the den nest, lowering himself to graze his lips against yours. “But don’t worry about that right now, sweetling.” Sanemi then shifted so that he was hovering over you, a knee wedging between yours to help guide your legs open as he settled into the cradle of your thighs.
His lips ghosted against the side of your neck. “Just focus on me.”
You nodded, breath catching in your throat as his warm weight settled against you. You hissed at the feeling of the tip of his manhood brushing against your slick folds, a spark of pleasure jolting through you like a lightening bolt.
Above you, Sanemi ground his teeth, a tendon popping in his neck as he exhaled sharply. “Christ,” he ground out, repeating the sliding movement of his velvety head against your core. “I pray your cloak is enough, sweet girl. Because I don’t know how I’m going to hold back when you already feel this good.”
The mark on your neck pulsed with a simmering heat that only sent another gush of fluid between your legs. You mewled for him, fingers tugging lightly at his silver locks as you bucked your hips upwards, your body nearly thrumming with your need to be filled by the thick, searing length tracing up and down your folds.
Sanemi moaned. “Alright,” he said, exasperated but his voice shook. “Needy little thing.”
One hand skirted down the length of your thigh, gripping behind your knee to wrap your leg around his hips. The Huntsman’s other hand moved to grip the base of his manhood, lining it up with your entrance. Sanemi’s eyes lifted once to yours in silent question, and anticipation fluttered in your gut.
“Please,” was all you could say, breathy and desperate. “Please.”
As the head of his cock pushed into you, Sanemi rattled out a gasp, his eyes screwing tightly shut as he panted hard above you.
“L-lamb,” he stuttered even as he continued to breach your walls. “You’re so soft…so warm.”
You cried out at the way pleasure and a faint discomfort blended together into a pinching pressure as the Huntsman worked himself into you, his muscles trembling. The thick, blunt tip of his cock pushed against an inner barrier within you, and your belly clenched in anticipation as Sanemi paused the sinking of his hips into yours. His head dipped to the crook of your neck, right where he’d seared his claim into you, and he began to brush his lips against it, caressing the raised skin with his tongue.
The stimulation of your mark sent a flood of warmth trickling through you, relaxing your tensed limbs and allowing your body to open up to him — this Wolf, who was committed to making you his for good.
Your cry of discomfort melted into a deep moan of desire as your head tilted to the side, exposing more of your neck to the Wolf’s feverish mouth. With a growl of approval, Sanemi surged his hips forward and finally pushed past that thin, inner barrier, embedding himself to the hilt within your spasming walls. The flash of pain from his breach caused you to tense for a breath, your core pulsing at the intrusion. But then Sanemi’s fingers were there, working the nub between your legs to chase away any lingering discomfort as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your neck, murmuring soft praises.
Pleasure bloomed beneath Sanemi’s skillful touch as the last of the burning subsided. Your breath eased as you relaxed in his embrace, shyly rolling your hips against his to signal you were ready for more.
He pulled back, eyes searching yours. “Are you alright, sweetling?”
Your hands clawed at his back, trying to press the Huntsman closer to you, despite the way your bodies were pressed flush together. “Y-yes,” you managed, your breath stuttering as Sanemi shifted above you, the movement stimulating a spark of heat between your legs.
“M-more, Sanemi,” you moaned, fingers digging into the grooves of the muscles of his shoulders. “Please, more.”
He nodded with a groan, an arm shifting to wrap around your waist to hold you up against him. With his face buried in the crook of your neck, Sanemi began to move, his hips rolling into yours and pushing his manhood deeper and deeper into you.
“Lie back, sweet Lamb,” he murmured in your ear as he rolled into you once more. “Let me make you feel good.”
You couldn’t imagine how much better the Wolf was capable of making you feel than he was at that moment, with every lurid push of his length into your tight heat, but you weren’t about to question his abilities. With a quiet moan, you fell back away from him and against the soft pelts of the den nest, your arms dropping from his shoulders and coming to rest above you, against the furs.
“Fuck, just like that,” Sanemi’s gaze darkened as he beheld the way your position arched your lower back slightly, raising your peaked breasts higher up, your nipples stiff and desperate for stimulation. “You’re so good, little Lamb. So good for me.”
The Huntsman’s gentle praises made your thighs clench and warmth pool in your lower belly. Sanemi leaned forward with a sigh, running a hand up the length of your arm to grip one of your wrists to press it down into the nest. The other returned to your hip, angling you slightly in a way that allowed him to sink even deeper into your syrupy heat.
He lowered his head to wrap his lips around one of the sensitive buds of your breast, tugging it lightly between his teeth. “Gods, Lamb, you’ve no idea what you do to me,” he groaned. “It’s taking — fuck — everything in me not to tear this cloak off you and rut into you like the beast I am.”
You nearly whined at that, drawing upon every ounce of self control within you to not admit that was exactly what you wanted — Sanemi, unrestrained and utterly wild. You locked your ankles against his backside and used all the strength in your legs to push him into you, bucking your hips in tandem with his. “Sanemi, please, I need more —“
He answered with a pointed thrust of his hips, choking you off with a gasp.
“Is that so?” Sanemi’s breath was hot against your ear, and a shiver jolted down your spine at the faint growl that tinged his words. He shifted your legs so that they were wrapped higher around his hips, the fat of your backside resting against his sturdy thighs. “Then you better hold on tight, little Lamb.”
The Huntsman locked a muscled arm around your waist and moved his hand to grip both your wrists, pinning them above your head.
His lips crashed down against yours as Sanemi began to thrust into you with a steady rhythm, each push of his length into your spasming core as precise and fluid as the Huntsman had proved himself to be in the Wood. Only now, he was not faced with an opponent, but with something far more tantalizing — something he desired far more to dominate.
You.
And you were only happy to give into him, what with the way his cock charted previously unexplored places deep inside you, repeatedly brushing against spots that had your mouth falling open and stars appearing in the corners of your eyes.
Sanemi’s tongue slid into your mouth as his hands moved to arch your back further, your legs rising higher on his waist until they were locked just under his ribcage, the Huntsman bearing more of his weight down upon you and pressing you harder into his nest.
You pulled away from his lips, your breath ragged. “I - I f-feel,” you tried to babble, though your mouth struggled to form coherent words against the symphony of moans and whimpers that each push of Sanemi’s length into you dragged out.
Sanemi’s lips moved down your neck and danced across your throat. “How do you feel, Lamb?” He cooed, the tip of his incisor brushing against the hollow of your throat, his pace only increasing with every deep plunge of his length into your silken cavern.
Your eyes fluttered shut even as your eyebrows knit together, the knowledge of how to properly speak nothing more than a distant memory.
“F-full,” you managed to pant after a moment. “So — ah — full, Sanemi.”
Amidst the sounds of your breathy moans and Sanemi’s rugged pants and snarls, a pointed, wet schlick began to echo off the walls of the cave den as Sanemi continued to build his rhythm, his cock nearly pulling all the way out of your honeyed heat before he plunged it right back in, hitting you so deep, you wondered whether he might be able to touch your very soul.
Your moans grew louder as that familiar coil began to tighten behind your navel, just above where you felt the tip of Sanemi’s length begin to twitch within you.
Sanemi stuttered out a broken groan of your name. “My sweet, sweet girl —“
“I love you!” you gasped, the thick, pleasured fog in your head unable to keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth. “Ngh — I love you — fuck, Sanemi!”
The Huntsman only growled in response, his hands digging into your hips to pull you to meet his thrusts, his hips snapping faster against you.
Just outside the mouth of the den, the clouds parted and the moon’s silvery rays filtered through the small cracks in the earthen wall of the cave.
Sanemi’s thrusts stuttered as his body suddenly seized. His head was thrown back, the tendons and muscles in his neck rigid with strain, while his chest heaved, struggling to take a breath.
The fingers digging into your hips tightened and you cried out at the sharp prick of nails sinking into your soft flesh. At the sound of your voice, Sanemi’s hands pulled away to reveal fingers now with long, curved nails.
His claws.
A choked, strangled noise that was somewhere between a groan and a howl ripped from Sanemi’s throat as he shuddered violently above you. The tremors sent faint vibrations right to where the two of you were connected, sparking new yet short-lived waves of pleasure rippling through your core. you mewled at the loss of stimulation as the huntsman stilled once more, desperately wanting him to start moving again to ease the burgeoning friction between your legs.
Your hips involuntarily twitched up against his and Sanemi’s head snapped down, his attention now wholly focused on you, writhing below him.
The first thing you noticed were his eyes.
No longer did they reflect the soft lilac that you’d come to find comfort in; that regarded you with a curious gentleness that often contrasted with Sanemi’s gruff and scarred countenance.
Now, the eyes that watched you from above had faded to a startling silver that glowed nearly as bright as the fat moon which hung just outside the mouth of the den.
But his eyes were nothing compared to the fangs that had formed on both his upper and bottom rows of teeth.
Sanemi’s incisors had lengthened, the upper pair extending nearly to his lower lip. The teeth tapered out to sharp points, glistening in the moonlight with a promise of violence to anyone who might find themselves at their mercy.
He had warned you that it would be difficult to keep himself from shifting while he mated you, but you’d assumed that the presence of your cloak would keep him in his human form. It seemed, however, that the magical protection afforded by the Ruby red wool draped around your shoulders, still could not fully temper the beast within.
Especially when that beast was in the thick of his heat and claiming you as his mate.
Still embedded deep within your heat, apparently oblivious to the growing friction that caused you to squirm, Sanemi’s nostrils flared and his eyes dropped to the sides of your hips. His pupils contracted, a deadly glint igniting within his silver pools, as he beheld the thin rivulets of blood which had gathered and crested beneath the marks left behind by his claws.
A growl, low and dangerous built in his throat at the sight of the crimson, but the arm wrapped around your waist tightened in silent apology.
His free hand rose to cup your jaw and he squeezed, forcing your mouth to fall open. Sanemi leaned over you, his tongue falling out of his mouth where you could see he’d gathered some of his saliva, and he let it drip past your parted lips. You accepted the fluid, warm and slightly sweet, as it pooled in your mouth until all that connected his lips with yours was a single, clear string of saliva that broke as Sanemi spoke once more.
“Swallow,” his voice was gruff and tinged with an animalistic snarl.
You obeyed, and Sanemi huffed in approval, his eyes lowering once more to your sides, waiting.
The skin around the marks left behind by Sanemi’s claws grew warm and then tingled before the sensation quickly faded away. Curious, your hand fluttered to the outer curve of your right hip, fingers seeking out the tender, bleeding skin. With a soft gasp, you realized all that remained on your flesh were drying flakes of your blood.
Your eyes flew to Sanemi’s in surprise, and the wolf nodded.
His half-shifted form was apparently only able to speak a single word at a time. “Healed,” he confirmed, tongue darting out from between his lips to lick alongside your neck. “Healed.”
The huntsman’s nose moved to press flush against the soft spot beneath your ear, inhaling deeply. Your breath hitched at the sudden, light graze of his fangs against the curve of your collar bone, accompanied by a distinct wetness that pooled just beneath it.
Sanemi breathed into you again, his corresponding groan deep and possessive, and it occurred to you that in this half-shifted form, he was scenting you, needing to confirm that you were the one he’d marked; the one who was accepting his mating bond.
And your scent was making him drool.
“Mate,” he growled, dragging his nose down your neck to the hollow of your throat where your pulse thrummed. Your breath caught in your throat as the tip of one of his fangs grazed the delicate skin, and you realized it would take no effort for the wolf above you to pierce your neck and claim your life.
It would’ve frightened you, had you not realized that Sanemi was continuing to hold still above you. He remained that way, even though it was likely every instinct he had was screaming at him to move, to mark to, to claim you, especially when he was already sheathed deep within the sanctity of your walls. His restraint was palpable, given how he trembled, even as you felt his cock twitch within you, desperately seeking to fill and breed.
“Mate?” Came his snarl once more tinged by the faintest uncertainty as he awaited your response.
If you wanted him to stop, you had no doubt his will would overcome his base instincts, and he would pull away.
But you didn’t, and so you merely breathed, “Yes, wolf. I am your mate.”
A dark hum of approval rippled from Sanemi’s chest and he answered with a deep push of his hips. You gasped, hitching your legs higher on his waist and you swore it felt as though his cock had somehow grown hotter, thicker, as he began his rut.
But Sanemi in heat did not want your legs wrapped around him; he wanted you submissive, utterly at his mercy as he claimed you as his mate, and so, he flipped you to your hands and knees with a supernatural dexterity that left you breathless.
Clawed hands came to rest on your hips and dragged you back to him, carefully folding the hem of your cloak up and back to expose your rear end to the Wolf’s hungry gaze. One hand left to push against your upper back, pressing you into the soft pelts of the mating nest, while the other tilted your hips until your backside was in the air.
Your stomach clenched at the hot exhale of air that blew against your cunt, thighs squeezing together at the sound of Sanemi scenting you with a deep intake of breath.
“Pretty,” Sanemi marveled, the calloused pad of his index finger swiping along the slick folds of your core, causing your muscles to clench, desperate to be filled once more.
His voice took on a darker edge. “Mine.” He growled, and your head fell forward with a throaty moan as Sanemi’s tongue flattened against your folds for a strong lick.
His mouth only caused your essence to gush once more, and this pleased him, given the contented humming that sent vibrations rocking through you, loosening a desperate cry from your throat.
The sound of your desperation seemed to spark something in the wolf at your back, for Sanemi suddenly tore his mouth away from you and rose to his knees. You were about to turn to beg him to touch you again, when you felt the hot, leaking tip of his cock press into your entrance, slipping past that first ring of muscle before stilling.
Sanemi left his clawed hands on your hips and shifted his weight to let his knees knock your thighs together. Tilting your hips even more, Sanemi then rose up, the head of his cock still tucked safely inside you, and planted one foot on either side of your knees, coming to a squat.
And then, Sanemi began to fuck you once more.
Your thighs trembled beneath you as Sanemi’s cock stretched and filled you, reducing you to no more than a quivering puddle of your own arousal and desperate need to be claimed.
With every relentless push of his cock, with every pointed slap of his groin against your backside, you were reminded that at the end of this, there would be no part of you that remained wholly yours. Sanemi fucked himself into every crevice, every nerve that made up you, his cock chasing away anything that could not be marked by him.
You did not exist for yourself; you existed only for his pleasure and to take his knot.
“Mine,” Sanemi growled, over and over, with every bruising thrust into you, as the swelling base of his cock pressed closer and closer to your entrance.
He was too fast; Sanemi fucked into you at a pace so brutal, it was all you could do to continue holding your hips up, fingers desperately digging into the soft pelted blankets for purchase as every drive of the wolf’s hips made you bounce.
“Mine, mine, mine,” Sanemi chanted, each reminder punctuated by the possessive thrust of his cock into your drooling cunt, so forceful that you struggled to take a breath.
It felt like heaven.
“Yes,” you half-groaned, half-screamed into the fur below you. “Y-yours! Your mate!”
Your words only seemed to make him grow more feral and desperate, his hips snapping even harder against you as his engorged cock threatened to tear you apart from the inside, out.
One of his hands left your hip and you nearly whined, needing to feel him everywhere you couldn’t touch. You chanced a glance over your shoulder, just in time to see Sanemi raise his thumb to his mouth to bite the long, thick curved tip of his claw clean off. His thumb now resembling that of an ordinary man’s, Sanemi brought it right between your legs, pressing down against the series of nerves at the apex of your thighs that made you howl.
Even in the thick of his heat, your pleasure was his priority.
“Oh gods, oh gods,” your voice trembled in time with your body as the pressure in your navel built, much faster than it had before, the walls of your cunt fluttering harder around the thick, bulbous length of the wolf bent over your back. “Sanemi!”
The wolf’s thumb swirled around your bud more insistently, his cock throbbing as he shoved it deeper and deeper into you. From your position on your knees, chest firmly smushed against the pelts of the den nest, you began to feel the soft furs lightly graze against the skin of your stomach, though the lower half of your body was largely still suspended above the ground.
Not even your mind-numbing pleasure could stymie your curiosity as your hand drifted down your abdomen until it met a hard, bulging lump that throbbed just below your navel.
A lump that pulsed in time with every vicious thrust of the wolf’s hips against your backside. With a strangled gasp you pressed down, palm cupping around the thick, protruding head of Sanemi’s cock from the outside as it battered you from within.
The pressure made Sanemi tip his head back, a pleasured snarl rumbling from deep within his chest. His hips stuttered once, causing his heavy, full balls to slap right against your swollen bead and you came undone.
The walls of your core seized around the Wolf’s cock with a dizzying force, your limbs locking up as a euphoric scream tore your throat raw, and tears sprang into your eyes. Your cunt pulsed around his length, a gush of your sticky pleasure surging forth to cost him and his groin, the scent mixing with the heady, thick musk that permeated the air of the den.
Your eyes strained as they rolled deeply back into your head, your brain only vaguely registering the way Sanemi inhaled deeply behind you, a cross between a whine and a groan falling from his lips.
Sanemi’s hips gave one final, mighty push of his cock deep into your womb before you felt a sudden explosion of hot, sticky warmth flood you as Sanemi’s own climax ruptured.
You felt his seed fill you, a stray bead just managing to eke out from where the two of you were joined to trickle teasingly down your inner thigh. You wouldn’t have paid it any mind, but Sanemi growled lowly at it, as though the single drop of his milky pleasure managing to evade capture within your tight warmth was something to mourn.
Several moments passed, and yet Sanemi’s length remained rigid and spurting inside you, only prolonging your own release. As he spilled, Sanemi’s hips lurched forward once more, somehow pushing his cock deeper into your core as it spasmed around him with the last fading waves of your pleasure. But that pleasure was quickly replaced by a burning stretch as something hot and hard and thick bumped up against your entrance.
With a grunt, Sanemi nudged it forward and the hardened gland slipped into your hole, eliciting a mix between a scream and a moan from you that was only muffled by the fur against which you’d buried your face.
His knot, you realized, as your walls tried to rebel against the intrusion and push it out. Your swollen, aching cunt, however, was no match against the heavy, bulbous weight of the plug determined to keep every bit of the hot seed still spurting from Sanemi’s cock locked deep within you.
Several more moments passed as you remained pinned beneath the Wolf, his knot locked snugly within your cunt as he sighed and mewled above you, his lips grazing the back of your neck and shoulders. As your womb began to feel slightly bloated from the volume of hot, viscous seed with which Sanemi filled you, you began to finally feel his cock soften, and the burning stretch of your walls around his knot started to lessen as it slowly shrunk.
As his knot finally ebbed, Sanemi’s cock slipped out, only a small trail of his seed behind it, trickling lightly down your thigh.
His chest pressed harder into your back and you both fell forward, collapsing against the soft pelts cushioning the floor of his den, panting.
Your cheeks were flushed a bright red and your eyes were glassy, every inch of you trembling from the intensity of your joining. To quiet the thunderous beat of your heart against your sternum, you concentrated on on the feeling of his seed, thick and heavy, as it sloshed within your womb.
Soft lips grazed your still-burning mating mark before they moved softly down your spine as Sanemi’s weight lifted from your back. Warm, gentle hands gripped your hips and eased you flat against the nest before turning you over, your body boneless beneath his touch.
Sanemi’s fingers brushed your hair from your face, his eyes full of concern as his hand caressed your cheek. “Are you okay, my lamb?”
It took a surprising amount of effort to remember how to nod your head, and enough time passed that Sanemi lurched over you, his eyes wide as a worried call of your name echoed over the roar in your ears.
“I’m fine,” you managed after a moment, your voice a faint warble as your hands searched for him, needing the warmth of his skin to bring you back down to earth. “I promise I’m okay.”
You took a deep breath and allowed your eyes to slide shut, your face turning to nuzzle deeper into his palm as it rest against your temple. Sanemi’s fingers continued to brush your hairline, over and over, in an effort to soothe you.
When you opened your eyes again, you felt steadier; more grounded. You finally met his worried gaze, his irises having faded back to that delicate lilac hue you loved rather than the glowing silver they’d been during your rut.
But as you shifted beneath him, you felt another gush of his seed leak out of you, and the way it trickled down the curve of your ass before pooling on the fur beneath you made your core pulse once more.
Sanemi’s eyes flickered silver as the embers of your arousal caught once more, and your thighs clenched in anticipation.
Your hand found the back of his neck and gripped it firm, tugging his head back down towards you until your lips nearly touched. Sanemi’s breath was warm and sweet as it fanned over your face. Slowly, your other hand trailed down his chest, savoring the way his muscles rippled and tensed beneath your soft caress.
Your fingers found his still-stiffened member and they closed around it, giving him one, strong pump.
“Again.” You ordered, and your thighs fell open, the full scent of your arousal mixed with the muskiness of his seed making Sanemi’s nostrils flare, his pupils narrowing to slits as he growled in reply.
—————
Hours passed, and the sun had long since risen and begun its descent in the west, but Sanemi’s heat had still not subsided.
The periods of Sanemi’s lucidity gradually grew in length with every small break between his knot finally subsiding and his heat reigniting. The last break had lasted long enough for Sanemi to bring you several strips of dried meat and a handful of dried fruit, along with a skien of water that he had to help hold to your lips as you slurped greedy mouthfuls of the cool, spring water. You hadn’t had much of an appetite, given the way your stomach seemed to bulge slightly from the amount of seed he’d already given you, but the Hunstman insisted, lecturing you briefly about the need to keep your energy — and stamina — at a consistent level.
You’d begrudgingly accepted his offerings, less so out of hunger and more so because of the way he’d pulled you against the sweat-slicked skin of his chest while you ate, his fingers tracing delicately up and down your spine as his lips peppered your forehead in gentle, reverent kisses.
But that had been at least two hours prior, and you were right back where you started: head thrown back and nonsensical babbling lilting from your mouth as Sanemi impaled you on his monstrous length, over and over, until you could not remember where you ended and he began.
To his credit, even Sanemi in heat tried to feed you his knot in new positions, still committed to ensuring that you got as much pleasure from the experience as he. The current position was the most toe-curling one yet, one that had Sanemi resting on his haunches, his back straight as he kept you perched atop his cock like a throne.
One clawed hand was splayed across your lower back, keeping you upright as the other stretched across your lower abdomen, hand pressing down against your navel so you could feel the bulbous head of his engorged cock rub against that spot at the front of your wall that made you forget your own name, even if you could not seem to forget his.
This position also allowed him to guide you up and down his length in time with his lurid, frenzied thrusts, which you supposed was a good thing, considering your legs had long since been reduced to jelly and were utterly useless.
You felt yourself growing more and more lightheaded the harder Sanemi continued to fuck himself into you, the pleasure wrought by each frantic, deep stroke of the Wolf’s thick length in and out threatening to overtake you entirely.
His seed was steadily squelching out of you with each impassioned thrust, running down your thighs and dampening the furs below you. you’d lost count of how many times he’d already given you his knot. Truthfully, you’d stopped counting around the third or fourth time, your body too concentrated on trying to simply keep up with the Huntsman’s insatiable stamina. Still, despite the exhaustion, your mouth managed to form only a single, coherent plea for more, a command the Wolf was only too happy to oblige
You were getting closer to that pinnacle again, a slew of whimpers falling from your mouth in time with each harsh drive of the wolf’s cock into your cunt. But despite the number of times Sanemi had brought you over the edge since this dance had begun, you felt as though this time, it would be different; more extreme. How could you not, given the way your own juices slid down your thighs, mixing with his essence as he fucked it both into and out of you?
Sanemi’s length was hardly pulling out of your sopping heat, so you felt the swelling at his base steadily growing larger and larger, and you knew his release was imminent. You tried to tighten your arms around his neck, a high-pitched whine keening from your throat as your head fell back.
The Wolf bent low and sucked one of your aching breasts into his mouth, his teeth adding new reddish-purple marks to the fatty flesh that his tongue worked to quickly soothe. A graze of his fangs against your nipple sent another gush of fluid rushing from your core, followed by a wanton moan as you arced your back, pressing your breasts harder into his face.
You felt your walls begin to tighten around his rocky length once more, and your pearl brushed against the swollen hub of the enlarged gland at the base of his cock.
With a final jolt of his hips upwards, Sanemi’s knot pressed flush against the apex of your thighs and sent you catapulting into the burning fire of your climax once more, your body seizing as your vision faded white. There was only a faint ringing in your ears as you felt yourself floating along clouds that matched the precise hue of your Huntsman’s hair, and you let yourself be utterly lost among the pleasure that was Sanemi.
You were content to remain amidst that departed bliss, your body weightless and your mind empty, but the Wolf still embedded deep within your cunt was not.
Your rapture was disrupted by a faint pressure between your thighs, just against that nub Sanemi had shown you was sacred to him. That pressure grew, your limbs no longer floating but stiffening, tensing as something warm and calloused pinched more insistently at your pearl.
With a keening cry, you plummeted out of the clouds of mindless bliss you’d ascended to and right back down to earth, to that cave den where Sanemi had you draped over his thighs, one clawed hand supporting the middle of your back to keep you upright as the other furiously worked between your legs.
Tears of pleasure so intense leaked from the corners of your eyes as you deduced that the Wolf rutting into you had forced you back to consciousness with yet another climax, this one just as powerful as the previous. Though, now, instead of your vision fading to white, a rush of your own fluids surged forth and coated the Huntsman’s groin, wetting down the coarse, silvery hairs that surrounded his cock.
Sanemi’s nostrils flared at the scent of your pleasure as it soaked him. With something more akin to a roar than a groan or a shout, Sanemi’s cock erupted within you, his hot seed shooting so deep, you swore you could taste it — him — at the back of your throat.
Had you been capable of speech, you would have tried to tell him you could not possibly be expected to hold anymore of his pleasure — not when you’d already taken more loads of it than you could count, not when it felt as though his seed had replaced every trace of blood within your body, so coating everything inside that made you you to instead make his. But you weren’t; not when your tongue was half-lolled out of your mouth, not when your eyes had rolled so far back into your skull, you’d wondered whether they might become stuck there.
And even if you could have spoken, it wouldn’t have mattered. For the moment Sanemi’s cock ceased twitching inside you once more, you felt felt his hips surge up and in, felt that hard, bulbous knot slip right into your core with far more ease than it had earlier in the night, ensuring that not a single drop of Sanemi’s pleasure could leak out of where he’d just unloaded it within you once more.
Not that you would want it to be anywhere else, anyways; not when it was so warm, so comforting as it sloshed around inside your womb, making you feel a fullness not even the most decadent of meals could impart.
Somehow, still, you wanted more; needed it. Needed him.
You continued to float as you took the Wolf’s knot twice more, your brain little more than liquid and your senses too dull to perceive anything that wasn’t him. Distantly, you felt him tense and heard his soft groan, quieter than any noise he’d made since first claiming you all those hours ago, and his dwindling knot lodged into your entrance one final time.
The two of you breathed heavily for a moment, you folded half against the cave wall, sandwiched between cool rock and Sanemi’s solid warmth. Dazedly, you realized Sanemi had called your name, his voice barely a hoarse whisper.
Blinking, your eyes blearily opened to meet a pair of lilac — not silver — irises hovering above your own.
Sanemi’s face was flushed, but his human features had returned, with not a trace of those elongated fangs or pointed ears left.
A sheen of sweat coated his skin, dampening the ends of his snowy hair to a dark silver. Sanemi kept himself braced above you, his muscles rippling in the dim, fading light of the small fire feebly flickering within the cave. From your spot below him on the pelts, your eyes traced a bead of sweat that rolled down his neck and over one of his scarred pectorals.
“You cannot possibly take anything more from me.” He panted, and to your amusement, he almost looked alarmed as his eyes roamed your equally flushed and sweaty form spread out below him.
You smiled serenely up at the Huntsman — your mate.
“I can take whatever it is you want to give me, Wolf.”
Sanemi groaned loudly as he pulled out of you, both of you wincing at the loss of warmth.
“I have nothing left to give you, woman. My heat has ended,” his eyebrows raised. “Even if yours, apparently, hasn’t.”
Between your legs felt sticky and gooey with the remnants of Sanemi’s heat slowly leaking forth and mixing with the fluid drying on your thighs. But despite the slightly uncomfortable sensation of the Huntsman’s copious seed beginning to dry where it crusted on your skin, you smirked at him nonetheless as he laid out beside you with a heavy sigh.
“So I am a Wolf, then? If you think I am in heat, that is.”
“I think you are the most insatiable devil ever to grace the Wood,” Sanemi countered exasperatedly. “And I think you may be the death of me.”
You giggled as the Huntsman helped ease you down from where he’d pinned you against the wall, his hands gently guiding you to your side against him as the two of you laid down upon the furs.
Your head nestled into the crevice in the middle of his chest, your cheek pressed flush against his sternum, the steady beat of his heart a lullaby that threatened to bring sleep fast and soon.
“You said something earlier,” Sanemi said gently. “Just before I —“
Your eyes flew open, a faint blush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you recalled your words, cried out just before the moon had triggered Sanemi’s partial transformation.
I love you!
“Where are you going?” Warm fingers caught you beneath your chin, preventing you from burying your face against his chest in your effort to hide away.
Your head was turned up, and your eyes met that warm, lilac gaze. “Don’t hide from me, my Lamb.”
“Pretend I said nothing,” you squeaked, eyes dropping. “It does not have to mean anything.”
Sanemi’s other hand dropped to the mark branded into the juncture of your neck. At the first brush of his gentle yet strong fingers against the mark’s curvature, a warmth flooded through you, your teeth sinking into your lip to prevent you from purring at the contact.
“I did mark you, you know,” he smiled softly. “Bound myself to you for life, even if you decided to reject me.”
His smile faded slightly, his eyes earnest. “I would not have done that if I didn’t care for you — deeply.”
Sanemi’s lips pursed in thought. “If I did not love you, too.”
And though you had just spent the last day and a half allowing him to bend and twist you into positions that had you sobbing for him, the Huntsman’s words made your heart flutter like a bird.
“From this day forward,” you whispered, taking Sanemi’s hand in yours and pressing the tips of his fingers against your lips. “Wherever you go, I wish to follow.”
“You say that as though there was a chance you wouldn’t; as though you’d ever willingly leave me in peace.” He brushed a kiss against the top of your nose and his voice quieted. “As though I’d have it any other way.”
You answered his soft smile with one of your own, leaning up to slant your mouth over his. Sanemi’s lips parted easily for yours, your tongue sliding into his mouth to languidly dance with his, your hand snaking up his chest to hold the side of his neck.
The Huntsman growled softly into your kiss, an arm tightening around your waist as he pressed your nude body flush against his own.
“My heat may be over,” he said huskily against your mouth as he broke away to catch his breath. “But the fire you’ve lit within me still rages hot, little Lamb.”
You mewled as you traced your lips down, gliding over a scarred pectoral to take his pert little nipple into your mouth, your tongue swirling softly around it as Sanemi moaned.
“You’ve taken me as a wolf, Hunstman,” you purred, your hand sliding down his chiseled torso to where his cock had begun to stir once more. “Now I want you to take me as a man.”
With a low growl, Sanemi’s hands seized around your waist and flipped you over, laying you out on your back atop him, body pressed flush against his.
“Who am I to deny my mate?” His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, and one hand snaked around to your front to gently squeeze the sides of your throat.
“But since I’m taking you as a man, then I suppose you are no longer a Lamb, which means you no longer need this.” Sanemi’s fingers dropped to the collar of your cloak where it was still draped around your shoulders.
“And as fond as I am of your little red riding hood, I’m no longer concerned with being held back, sweetling.”
He flung the ruby cloak into a far corner of the cave before sliding his hand under you to position his cock between your legs, his tip already leaking as it pressed against your entrance.
His other arm looped through yours, pulling them back and pinning them against his chest, before he gave a great thrust up, sheathing himself to the hilt within your ready and eager walls.
You moaned, loud and unrestrained as Sanemi nipped at the side of your neck, your thighs spreading wider to accommodate his thrusts up from below.
“Let’s see how much more of me you can take now, little Red.”
—
SOMEWHERE IN THE NETHERWOOD
The silent, still trees of the Netherwood were helpless against the icy mist that rolled in from the foothills of the tiny, isolated village at its borders.
Though the forest had always been a void where sound and sunlight went to die, the mist heralded forth an unnerving stillness, so that not even a brave little songbird risked fluttering its wings. Even the shadows seemed to recoil as the source of the mist slunk through the ancient Wood, the most fearsome of its residents cowering away from the sinister intruder.
A figure emerged from the icy fog. Though the sun had long since set, the traveler needed no lantern or torch; his eyes, an unsettling kaleidoscope of colors, saw easily through the dark, the Wood unable to keep its secrets hidden from his hungry gaze.
It was quite a lovely night, the figure mused. A cool, late autumn evening with air so crisp it could only mean snow was imminent.
And snow made it much easier to track his prey.
Not that he was having much difficulty to begin with; after all, the girl’s noble attempt to muddy her own scent only made the chase that much more fun for the creature prowling through the Netherwood. Especially since the girl’s actions would lead him to a far bigger — far tastier, prize.
He smiled fondly to himself. He hadn’t imagined that the scrappy village girl would have ever made this game of his so interesting, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to be capable of serving him the feast he now tracked through the Wood.
He would still dispose of her the same way as the others, just as he planned. It did not matter to him that she’d already tainted herself by allowing a Wolf to mate her. In fact, the figure mused as he licked the remaining blood from his last his meal from his fingers, he hoped that the Wolf’s attempt to breed the succulent little human had been successful.
Mortal women and girls were far more satisfying than any other prey, with the way their bodies stored fat and held onto nutrients in preparation for child bearing. But a human woman carrying a Wolf’s pups? His mouth watered at the thought as he shuddered with delight.
But even if she was not carrying the fruits of the Wolf’s seed, it wouldn’t matter; she would still sate both his appetites.
And then there was the Wolf himself.
For the Wolf was the creature’s true target; the fat goose he hadn’t expected to find when he broke into the hen’s house in search for a new bride to claim.
The creature suppressed the primal, longing growl that bubbled up in his chest as he imagined how it would feel to sink his teeth into the furred flesh of the cursed Wolf, and how it would feel to swallow his mouthfuls of power and boundless strength.
His stomach growled at the thought, though he’d just feasted on a little girl he’d snatched from her parents’ bed as he’d waded into the Netherwood. She’d been bony and small, likely barely pubescent, but he’d been in need of nourishment before embarking on the long journey ahead. And, she’d been unbroken, and while he was not someone to care as much about such trivial matters, he couldn’t deny that it did feel so much better when they were untouched and untainted.
But she would do for now, as she rested in his belly. She could hold him over until he decided it was time to set his plan in motion, and his daring, rebellious little Y/N led him straight to the wolves’ den.
And Lord Douma knew how to be patient. And so, he would wait.
Warning(s): slight angst, daddy kink, lead up to sex, body insecurities, Dom/sub relationship, sex clubs/strip clubs, confrontation with an unsub who has a knife, minor violence, firearm.
When Dom/sub couples begin to show up murdered mid-coital, the BAU team is brought in to solve the case. But as more couples are found and the unsub remains undetected, it becomes an undercover mission. The posing Dom/sub couple in question? Your intimidating, attractive boss and you.
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Hello everyone!!! Gosh, I didn't expect people to enjoy the first part so much so thank you 💖💖💖💖 it means a lot! If you would also like to join the taglist then please let me know :) Thank you for reading!
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Another couple had been found dead soon enough, they'd also visited the same sex club the night before the estimated time of death. And just the same as the other couples, they were also in the middle of intercourse when they were murdered. But once again the killer had evaded being discovered. Everyone who worked in the club or had visited during the same night the couple had were interrogated, a process that had taken a few days but ultimately turned up no-one of note. Needless to say, the atmosphere in the station was exceedingly tense.
The chief of police was clearly at his wits end, his thin, greying hair was tussled and sticking to his skin from the sweat beading on his creased forehead. He stormed into the conference room yourself and the rest of the BAU were set up in and he made a beeline towards Hotch, of whom was reading back over the profile that you were all struggling to put together.
"Why the hell aren't you all doing anything?! I don't see why you're even here!" He snapped, causing everyone to focus on his reddening face. Hotch slowly turned to him, towering above him effortlessly, and glared.
"If you'll recall, you requested our assistance. And as you can see my team and I are working."
He turned slightly to gesture around the room and his eyes immediately met yours. Your brow furrowed slightly, wishing the chief would project his frustration on all of you, rather than just one person. You straightened up from where you were reviewing the footage from the night of the recent incident.
"I-I- think I have a theory that will help us figure out who the culprit is." You said. The chief spun sharply and you inwardly praised yourself for not flinching when he focused on you. Your eyes flicked to the man beside him for a split second.
"Well? Say it." Your eyes returned to the former again, unimpressed by his rudeness.
"The women. The victims that were women were all wearing a collar of some sort, but when their bodies were discovered there were no collars in sight, not even in the locations they were found in or amongst their belongings." You spoke smoothly, beckoning all to the computer screen you were at.
"You think the killer takes them?" The chief wondered aloud. Rossi answered on your behalf.
"Some killers take trophies from their victims, something to remember them by." He said.
"But what would the unsub do with the collars?" You heard JJ say. Emily crossed the room and pulled off the photos of the victims from the white board, bringing them back over to the monitor to compare with the different footage.
"Maybe they just collect them."
You narrowed your eyes a little as your mind rewound over the different people that had been interrogated over the past couple of days since the latest murder.
"Or they wear them." You mumbled.
"What was that?" Rossi prompted you and you cleared your throat, repeating yourself.
"I think they could possibly be wearing the collars until they find a new couple, then replace the collar with the newest victim's."
The chief huffed.
"The footage isn't clear enough to pinpoint who's wearing them though."
All eyes were upon Hotch now, of whom stood with his left hand on his hip, deep in thought. He glanced at Rossi.
"We'll have to go in." He said after a moment.
"As in...?" JJ trailed off. Your eyes widened. Hotch nodded and his eyes flicked from face to face.
"Yes. Two of us will need to bait the unsub out." He clarified.
Oh boy.
"Well Morgan and I wouldn't be able to go back there given that we would be instantly recognised as federal agents." Emily said and you hummed in agreement. Hotch's brow furrowed moreso than ever before sighing.
"I have not been in there, so I'll go."
Your eyes flicked to JJ, who stared back and slightly shook her head. Without breaking eye contact with you she opened her mouth to speak.
"I'm not so sure about doing this."
You winced. Emily elbowed you subtly, making you tense up. You felt eyes on you and your breath hitched when your own met brown ones. Hotch gazed down at you. Oh no.
"(L/n)?"
Fuck. This was a bad idea. You drew in a shaky breath and nodded.
"I guess we have no other options." You said finally. Something shifted in his face, a very subtle expression you couldn't read, before it was gone and his attention returned to the whole group.
"It's settled then. This unsub will follow us to wherever we are headed to once we have their attention," He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and scrolling through his contacts. "With that in mind we should book a room in a different hotel if there aren't any new rooms available in the one we're in currently."
Your heart was pounding now, and you knew Emily could feel just how tense you were.
"We'll help (Y/n) with finding an appropriate outfit for tonight." She said. Hotch eyed her and nodded, pressing his phone to his ear.
"Garcia, I need you to..."
Your thoughts drowned out his voice, circling in your mind as you realised just what your undercover mission entailed. Pretending to be a dominant and submissive couple with the man you harboured strong feelings for? Absolutely awful. A truly terrible idea. And the fact that the couples were all found murdered mid-coital--
A hand appeared in front of your face and you blinked, slowly focussing on who was stood in front of you. Emily fought back a grin as you took her hand and you realised you'd been staring at Hotch, of whom was behind Emily eyeing you. With cheeks warming, you returned your attention to the woman in front of you and took her hand. She hummed.
"Lost in thought, hmm?" She asked casually.
"Shut up."
"Aww, don't be like that. We have to go find you an outfit now anyway."
She pulled you out of the office, JJ tagging alongside you and you turned your head back, meeting eyes with Hotch one last time. You were absolutely fucked.
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Oh, you were absolutely going to kill Emily Prentiss for this. You'd managed to purchase a velvety little burgundy number that was more form fitting than what you were used to, some heels to match and even a black collar that had the words 'GOOD GIRL' adorning it in silver metal letters. Not only that, you'd treated yourself to a lovely red lingerie set to boost your confidence. But that wasn't the problem. The woman had insisted on visiting the back of the lingerie store to purchase one more item, an item that you had refused to buy until Emily simply took it to the clerk herself.
You huffed quietly as you walked alongside Hotch down the corridor in a different hotel that Garcia had booked for you both tonight. You weren't wearing the clothes you picked out for the club, instead wearing a black pencil skirt and the shirt you had been wearing earlier, tucked into the skirt. It was again, Emily's idea for you to wear a pair of heels for this as well. The sound of the suitcase wheels rumbled softly on the carpeted flooring and in your hands the room key-card warmed to your body temperature.
"Are you okay?" You heard Hotch say as you came to a stop outside your hotel room door. Not trusting yourself to look at him you simply nodded.
"Yeah. Are you?" You asked weakly and it was his turn to huff out a breath.
"Fine."
You flicked the card against the pad and pushed the handle down to enter the room. Garcia had, admittedly, found a double bed in a higher end hotel near the club but you certainly were not expecting this.
The room was huge. The hallway had an expensive oak wood table laid out against one wall with a vase of flowers on top. The walls were a pristine white and the decorating retained a theme of red accents, from the artwork on the walls to the duvet and pillows on the bed. Oh right, the bed...
A luxuriously large double bed stood in the centre of the room adorned with expensive sheets and pillows. You had to admit, it did look like a very comfy bed. You kicked off your heels and padded through to the main area of the room and perched on the side of it.
"If anything, Garcia certainly knows how to get us a good deal." You said light-heartedly and Hotch hummed, carrying the suitcase over to the bed and laying it down on its side. Your eyes drifted around the room still, slightly in awe of it all. It was incredible enough to almost have you forgetting the reason you were actually there.
"Let's read over the profile and notes one more time before we get ready to head out." Hotch murmured as he pulled the zipper on the case to open it. "We should also discuss what our dynamic is meant to..."
You blinked and turned your head in his direction. He was tense, brows pulled together. In hand was the casefile but his attention wasn't on it.
"What's wro...ng?" Your eyes drifted down to the suitcase and in an instant you knew the problem. Nestled on top of your clothing was a pastel pink vibrator and a matching remote. Fuck.
"Why is this in here?" Hotch asked slowly. Your eyes trailed back up to him. His gaze was dark, intense. A shiver shuddered through you.
"I.... It wasn't meant to be." You dipped your head and your cheeks felt hot, a coil forming in your lower abdomen. "Emily, uh, she bought it to apparently help with getting into character. I'd say she was joking but I never know with that woman." You trailed off and fiddled with the fabric of your skirt.
"I see..."
You lifted your head up and drew in a shaky breath when you realised he was still staring at you.
"I think she must have snuck it back into the suitcase because I left it in my room. Sorry about that."
Hotch studied you for a while, clearly debating something in his head with the way his eyes narrowed slightly. It made you uncomfortable, shifting under his gaze and after a moment you grabbed the device and made a move to shove it into the bottom of the case.
"Let's just forget about it, I'm SO gonna have a go at her for this." You rambled, that is until a warm, large hand came to grab both of your smaller hands, and ultimately made you pause. What the...
"Maybe... I mean, if you were comfortable, we could use it- as in you hide it under your dress and I'll have the remote- so it draws more attention our way." Hotch said and now it was your turn to stare. Holy shit, he wanted to actually use it?! You swallowed thickly and nodded.
"S-sure. Uh, I'll pin it to the side of my thigh with my pantyhose."
Hotch moved his hand away and you and this allowed you to grab your clothing for tonight. You pushed off the bed rapidly and made a beeline for the bathroom.
"Gonna get changed." You mumbled quickly and closed the door behind you. Fuck. Sitting down on the lid of the toilet after placing your clothes on the bathroom counter you rubbed your thighs together, attempting to ease the throb between your legs. This whole situation was a bad idea. The fact that you'd have to pretend to be a couple with him of all people whilst battling the complicated feelings you had going on troubled you. You hadn't forgotten what he told Rossi the other night, the ache in your chest lingering still. How would you return to normality after this? To pretend your feelings for him didn't exist, that you wished this wasn't just for an undercover job.
Both upset and horny now, you huffed and stripped off so you could change into the new lingerie and dress. Your eyes glanced at the mirror whilst you pulled the set on and you had to admit, you looked incredible. And when you finished pulling the dress into position you stepped back and gazed at your reflection your eyes widened.
The fabric hugged closely to your body, your hips curved with delicate drapes of fabric that spanned across your plump stomach deliciously. The queen anne neckline concealed your bra but the openness displayed the tantalising plain of your chest. You felt good, really good. With a smile, you grabbed your discarded clothing and exited the bathroom, only to stop short at the sight of Hotch's bare back as he pulled on a black dress shirt. He glanced back at you in surprise, not turning to face you though. You stammered and averted your eyes.
"Sorry, I didn't realise you were changing."
Hotch hummed, fastening the buttons of the shirt whilst you passed him to place your folded clothes back into the suitcase.
"It's alright, no harm done." He responded quietly and at the corner of your eye you could tell he was watching you as he tucked the shirt into his dress pants. You lifted your gaze to him properly and you frowned a little. He noticed and raised a brow. "What's wrong?"
You approached him and lifted your hands to the top few buttons, unfastening them to show off more of his neck and collarbones.
"That looks better I think." You mumbled. When your eyes flitted to his face you trembled, stepping away quickly whilst your cheeks flushed. He was smirking ever so subtly at you.
"Oh? Well I'll take your word for it."
You nodded and grabbed the heels that matched your dress and sat down on the bed so you could put them on. Irritatingly, the bed was quite tall and made fastening the shoes difficult. During your struggle you didn't realise the man before you had knelt down until his hands came into view, one grasping your ankle gently whilst the other took the shoe from your hand. Your head shot up and you let out a squeak when you realised how close to his face you were whilst slouched over. That little smirk was still there.
"Let me help you." He insisted softly, voice deep and breath fanning across your cheeks, only emphasizing just how close your faces were to one another. You straightened up and bashfully looked away from him. The sight of him kneeling in front of you like this had your thoughts spiraling, imagining him grasping both your ankles and spreading your legs and leaning his face closer and closer to your throbbing slit-
You cleared your throat, feeling perverted, and internally scolded yourself for thinking about such things, especially with him so close to you right now.
"O-okay. Thank you, sir."
He hummed again and made swift but gentle work of fastening your shoes on, his large hands skillful as though he had done this many times in the past for his ex-wife. You tried not to think too much about that though.
Once ready, you hopped off the bed and grabbed the vibrator. You puffed out a breath.
"I'll, uhm, pin this to my thigh now." You said and turned away from him so you could shove your hand down your pantyhose and slide the toy into the correct spot on your leg. When you pulled the skirt of the dress back down you were satisfied that it was undetectable. Spinning, you held your arms out to present yourself. "Well? Do you think this is okay?"
Hotch studied you with dark eyes, trailing up and down your figure slowly.
"Beautiful," He said finally and stepped towards you. "However, you forgot this-"
In his hand was the collar you'd picked out. Your eyes widened a little as you reached for it.
"Oh, yeah I did. Thanks, I'll-"
Hotch pulled his hand out of reach, surprising you. His eyes bored down into yours as you frowned at him.
"Let me."
"Oh." You trembled a little as he turned you to face away from him and carefully, he fastened the collar around your neck, fingers brushing against your skin slightly and causing a shiver to dance down your spine. His hands lingered a moment longer, then he took a step back.
"There you go."
You turned to face him again and his eyes lingered on the new piece of jewelry. You swallowed thickly.
"Thanks. Uhm, let's read the file and then we can go." You said and Hotch hummed.
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Everything would be okay, you thought to yourself. But realistically, you felt almost sick with nerves. You never did undercover work, let alone something as confronting and intimate as this. Hotch walked alongside you in the warm, slightly clammy night towards the sex club, his hand on the small of your back. Initially, when he rested his hand there you'd jolted, making him pull his hand back and apologise. You'd shyly let him know it was okay, you just hadn't expected it. Your heels clacked on the sidewalk, the only noise besides the passing of cars or other people dotted around. You felt Hotch's thumb gently rub against your back, causing your cheeks to feel flushed.
"Just follow my lead." He murmured into your ear. You shuddered as his breath fanned against your neck and you knew he felt it from the more firm grasp of his hand on your back.
Eventually, you both came to a stop in front of the unassuming door which led down to the club. Glancing at one another, you nodded once and assumed the act of an overly affectionate couple for when you pressed the buzzer to be allowed inside. You wrapped your arm around Hotch's waist, feeling his torso tense underneath you as he pulled you closer towards him. The action made you automatically lay your hand against his chest to balance yourself and you could feel the warmth of his body, the strumming of his heartbeat.
A short moment later you were walking down the staircase that separated the outdoors from the club. Loud, pulsing music played through unseen speakers and immediately the two of you were greeted by the sight of scantily dressed women and men, eyeing you both as you crossed the room to the front desk. You were very uncomfortable. Hotch took charge talking to the woman at the desk whilst your eyes drifted around the room, taking in the environment. Your attention was drawn back to Hotch and the woman when his arm tightened around you and his hand squeezed your hip.
"Come on, sweetheart. Let's have a look around." Hotch murmured and you jolted. He called you sweetheart. You bit your lip and hummed, letting him lead you away from the entrance. You found a crescent-shaped booth in the middle of the main lounge to settle in for a moment and you snuggled closely up to him, inhaling his scent. His hand was around you, resting on your lower back again and stroking you with his fingertips. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, you bit back a noise as you tried to calm yourself down.
"Are you sure it's okay for me to kiss you and get handsy with you?" He asked again, despite having discussed yours and his boundaries back at the hotel. You nodded and swung your leg over his hips, pushing yourself up so you could gaze at his face. He was watching you through lidded eyes and his hands came to grip your hips. You felt hot, needy.
"Of course I am. What should I call you though?" You murmured back, eyes flicking between his lips and the rest of his face. He raised a brow.
"Whatever you want to, sweetheart."
You shuddered again and hummed.
"Okay, daddy."
Something flared in his eyes and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap properly, straddling him with your hands bracing yourself up on his shoulders. Your eyes flew open wide and you gasped, he held back a smirk. You pouted.
"A little warning next time."
His hands squeezed again.
"Sorry. Are you alright?" He asked quietly. You nodded and craned your neck, peeking over the top of the booth and scanning the area, trying to spot anyone of note. You felt a hot breath against the valley between your breasts and you gasped out, hands gripping tighter on Hotch's shoulders. You slid back down to straddle one of his thighs and blushed, avoiding his gaze.
"I-I'm sorry! I didn't think I would be all up in your face like that! I was just trying to look over the top of the booth." You fumbled out quickly and Hotch's hands tightened, moving slightly just shy of your ass.
"It's fine." You heard him say, but it sounded strained. "Do you see anyone suspicious?"
"No, not yet. Maybe we should get refreshments so we have the chance to interact with people more."
"Yes. I'll wave over someone." He murmured. A moment later, a woman wearing a black lingerie set and heels approached your booth and swayed her hips, smiling seductively at the two of you.
"What can I do for you two tonight?" She asked, eyeing you from head to toe. You tensed a little, not enjoying the staring. Hotch stroked your hips, holding you closer to him.
"Two cokes, please." He responded. The woman sauntered off towards the bar with one more scrutinizing glance over and you slumped a little.
"I can't wait until we get out of here." You grumbled. All of a sudden, the hands on your hips were grabbing your ass cheeks tightly, making you squeak. "H-Hotc-!"
The man below you pressed his lips to yours roughly and you felt your body short-circuit, utterly stunned by him. You kissed back, a whine lingering in your throat which escaped when Hotch pulled away from the kiss. He looked stern.
"What did you call me?"
You whimpered.
"I- I called you Hotch, instead of daddy."
He hummed and smoothed his hands over your rump, encouraging you to roll your hips.
"I hope that wasn't too far, I think I just spotted our unsub though and wanted to solidify their attention on us." He murmured gently. You drew in a shuddering breath.
"N-no it was okay. Very believable I think." You managed to choke out. Reality set back in again for you. This wasn't a fun little night out with your boss, finally getting the touches and kisses you craved, you were there to do your job. You felt tense again and very embarrassed that you'd been caught up in the moment, wishfully thinking of it all being real with your boss. Hotch's brows scrunched together as he felt a shift in your mood.
"(Y/n).. I-"
"-Two cokes for the very cosy couple." You heard from behind you and you jolted, turning your body to see who it was. Your eyes widened.
A slender woman with straight, dyed red hair was standing at the edge of the booth holding two glasses of the fizzy drink. She too was wearing a black lingerie set and heels but that wasn't what your eyes were focused on. Around her neck was a pink leather collar with the phrase "DADDY'S KITTEN" on it. The collar had belonged to the latest female victim. Your eyes drifted back up to her face quickly and you smiled at her.
"Oh, thank you!" You chirped at her in a cutesy voice. She smirked and placed the two glasses down, condensation already rolling down onto the table.
"You two seem to be having a lot of fun."
You felt your cheeks warm and Hotch adjusted you to sit facing away from him, his hands on your expansive thighs. His stomach was tense against your back, a clear sign of him being on high alert.
"Mmm, we don't get to spend much time together. I have to travel to my little girl, you see." He said, then pressed his lips to your neck to kiss it. The sensation of his lips on your sensitive neck made you shudder and grip onto the fabric of his trousers, not even remotely acting. The woman in front of you stared.
"Oh?"
You nodded and pouted.
"I'm studying here but we're going back to our hotel though 'cuz I struggle staying quiet enough in my dorm."
Hotch chuckled and ran his hands up and down your thighs, fingers dipping between them slightly and causing you to whimper. The corner of the woman's mouth twitched.
"Mhm, you looking for a threesome tonight, huh?"
"Actually, I'm trying to teach her to control herself and behave." Hotch answered before you could even open your mouth. And then you felt it, the vibrator stirred to life and began to vibrate violently against your thigh, startling you. You gasped out, hips automatically rolling forward and grinding down on Hotch's lap. The woman in front of you eyed you up and down, realising what she thought was happening and smirked. An unseen woman called for her attention and she stepped back.
"Well, if you need any help with that just let me know."
She turned on her heel and walked away, your eyes following her until she was out of sight. You returned to facing Hotch, pouting.
"That scared the fuck out of me!" You hissed. His eyes glinted mysteriously in the dim lighting, the vibrator continued to buzz against you.
"At least we know who our unsub is. And we got a first name: Tanya."
You nodded slightly.
"We should finish up here then and make a move."
Reluctantly, you climbed off his lap and eyed the drinks on the table. You didn't exactly trust consuming anything the possible unsub had brought out to you. Hotch took hold of your hand.
"Leave them. We need to go." He said and you nodded, letting him pull you out of the booth. He held you close to his body, gazing down at you and leaning close to you. "I'm going to kiss you again and grab your ass before we leave. Is that okay?"
You wanted to laugh at how formal he sounded but held back, instead nodding and gripping onto his shirt.
"Yes, sir."
He pulled you tighter against him and pressed his lips to yours, growling lowly as his hands grabbed handfuls of your ass again. You squeaked, arms throwing over his shoulders and hanging on tight to him. You never wanted this to end, craving his touch over and over and over...
Your lips departed when he pulled away, a smacking noise causing you to shudder a little. His hands smoothed up your body to rest at your lower back and you shifted uncomfortably.
"The vibrator- could you turn it off?"
He blinked at you, then fumbled one of his hands in his pocket.
"Right, yeah. Sorry."
The vibrator stilled and you exhaled, resting your head against his chest. His heart was pounding, chest rising and falling deeply with every breath. God, you were desperate for him to fuck you at this point. Scrunching your eyes closed for a second, you exhaled and pulled away from him to take hold of his hand.
"Let's go." You said softly. You felt eyes on you as Hotch guided you back out of the club and for a mere moment you dared glance around. The unsub was watching you through a fierce glare, eyes following as you walked away. Gotcha, you thought.
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The walk back to the hotel was brisk, still holding onto one another just in case the unsub had already begun following you. Discreetly, Hotch sent a message to Derek to indicate you were both heading back to the hotel and to monitor the security cameras for the unsub, typing out a brief description as well. You were nervous. Nervous about what the unsub would do, but even more so nervous about what you were about to do next.
Once you were back in your hotel room you quickly kicked your heels off and exhaled, gracious that they were finally off your feet.
"I don't know why people wear these things, they fucking hurt." You complained quietly. Hotch watched you for a moment, then pulled his phone out again to call one of the others.
"Give me the word when they head into the hotel." You vaguely heard him talking as you eyed yourself in the large mirror situated on the wall on the right side of the bed. None of your colleagues had seen you dressed in anything less than your current outfit, you never even thought your boss would be the one you'd be undressing for in a moment's time. You bit your lip, hand subconsciously moving to rest against your plump stomach. You shouldn't care what he would think, this was for a job. It wasn't as though you'd ever become a couple from this. And yet...
"Are you alright?" Hotch murmured softly from behind you, causing you to jump slightly. You hadn't realised he'd moved to stand behind you, his brows pulled together and his mouth tugging downward. You dropped your hand immediately and smiled.
"Yes of course. I guess we're playing the waiting game now, huh?"
He didn't smile back, appearing more concerned instead.
"We are, yes. Morgan will give us the signal. Which would mean..." He trailed off. You dropped your gaze, feeling hot and a slightly upset.
"Yeah.. uhm, what should we do?"
"Well, we would have to look as though we were about to engage in intercourse."
Hotch raised a brow when a bubble of laughter escaped you, making your cheeks flush. You covered your mouth, trying to calm yourself down enough to explain yourself.
"Sorry, you're just so formal when discussing something like this. I didn't mean to laugh." You said, revelling in the faint smile that slowly formed on his face. He placed a hand on your arm and turned you to face him. Your eyes widened, heart rate increasing as you gazed up at him in surprise. He thought for a moment, then spoke.
"I was wondering, when this case is finished, if you-"
The shrill of Hotch's ringtone cut him off and the two of you sighed, pulling from one another. He answered. You knew it was time to get ready for the next phase of the job, there was no room for anymore hesitation. When Hotch ended the call and pocketed his phone you were gripping onto the skirt of your dress tightly, trembling a little. You avoided his gaze.
"I'm gonna...uhm, take my dress off now." You warned him gently. And then you slipped the dress up over your head and discarded it on the ground near the bed. You heard a sharp intake of air and cringed, expecting the worst. "You should, uh, keep your shirt on. Just undo a few more buttons. The dominant in the relationship usually is more dressed than the submissive during sex."
"You seem knowledgeable on the subject." Hotch murmured, making your ears feel hot. You quickly pulled the vibrator out from inside your pantyhose and huffed.
"Shut up."
There was a pause, then Hotch was dragging you by the arm firmly but gently and pushing you down on the bed, manhandling you until you were laying amongst the now scattered pillows. You'd let out a yelp and a shout of his usual nickname until you found yourself being straddled by him, your chest heaving and your mouth slightly agape. Hotch sneered down at you, pinning your wrists either side of your head.
"What did you just say to me?" He asked dangerously calmly. You gulped.
"U-uhm.."
He tutted, leaning down to graze his nose along your neck, inhaling.
"Do at least one thing right for me; be loud, let everyone know who you belong to. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?"
You trembled, legs falling open a little.
"H-Hotch?"
With a quiet rumble in his chest, he began to suck harshly on your neck, avoiding the collar, and making you cry out.
"Wrong name." He muttered against your skin. Oh... You were unable to think straight, mind feeling mushy and your body tingling and throbbing all for him. The last thing you cared about was the unsub, the man sucking on your skin taking over your entire being. You pushed your chest up against his and whined loudly.
"S-sir, please!"
Hotch growled, pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss whilst his hips pinned yours down, his crotch against yours. You spread your legs wider, wanting him closer to you. His lips detached from yours, a trail of saliva connecting you both for a mere moment, but he wasn't finished. He moved slowly downwards, kissing and sucking your neck again, then your collarbones. Your back arched and you moaned as he sucked a hickey on your left breast, his hands moving from your wrists to your thighs. You could feel him smirking against your skin.
"Such a good girl, let out all those noises. Daddy wants to hear them whilst he marks you up. Gotta make it look like we were up to something, haven't we?." He cooed, spreading your legs wider and grinding against you. You bit your lip as you whimpered; you could have sworn you felt something hard and thick pressing into your clothed pussy.
And then the door burst open.
"Don't fucking move!" A familiar voice snapped, causing you and Hotch to flinch and turn your attention to the doorway.
"W-what-" Hotch played up a stutter. You'd been right, it was the woman who had given you your drinks. She glared at you both as she slammed the door shut behind her, you noted she hadn't locked it, seemingly because she had broken the lock to get into the room as she had done with all the other victims. In her hand was a long kitchen knife, glinting in the room light.
"Shut the fuck up." She stepped closer, pointing the blade towards you. "You disgusting freaks, playing around with such a horrible dynamic! Do you even understand what such relationships do to people?!"
Hotch moved slightly, shielding you from the unsub. It was like whiplash, one moment you were losing yourself to the pleasure of him and the next you were face to face with the murderer under the guise of her having the upper hand. Your eyes drifted slightly, eyeing Hotch for a brief moment, then returning your gaze to the unsub before she noticed.
"Ma'am, I understand that you may not like the lifestyle but why do you think you should kill us for it?" Hotch said calmly, hands raised to show he meant no harm to her. She sneered.
"All you people are the same. Prepared to have a horrible imbalanced relationship but so pathetic when that's threatened." She stepped closer, the handle of the knife trembling slightly with the tight grip she had on it. It wouldn't be long before Derek and the others appeared, but she was getting too close to you and Hotch. Without hesitating a second longer, you lunged towards the man still encasing you below him and grabbed the gun he always had strapped to his ankle, pushing back the safety on it and pointing it at the unsub. Her eyes widened, you stared her down.
"Tanya, put the knife down. We're with the FBI. We know what you've done." You said unwaveringly, forgetting your state of undress as you sat up straighter and faced her. She opened her mouth a few times, unable to think of what to say.
"B-but- you both- you were going to fuck! You seemed so much like a real couple!"
You ignored the sting in your chest, instead lightly pushing Hotch backwards with your shoulder so you could stand up.
"You were good, Tanya. We couldn't quite figure out who it was murdering all those couples. We had to resort to going undercover." You stepped closer, gun still trained on her. "It's over though. Put that knife down."
Hesitation flashed across Tanya's face for a moment, her hands shaking more erratically the longer she stood there. Absently, you sensed Hotch standing behind you and felt proud of yourself when you didn't flinch. Before any of you could make another move the hotel door swung open and the room was flooded with people, Derek leading the way.
"FBI! Put your weapon down now and put your hands up where we can see them!" He yelled. Tanya jolted, dropping the blade as she spun on her heel in utter panic. It was over. You barely registered the arrest being made, instead making quick work of putting the safety back on the gun, placing it on the bed and pulling the dress back over your head so you didn't feel so exposed anymore. You needed to get out of the room, needed fresh air to clear your head. Before anyone could speak to you you were gone, slipping your feet into the heels again and struggling with the buckles, then rushing out of the room.
"Hey! (L/n)! Where are you going!?" You heard Emily shout but you didn't stop, not until you reached the outdoors.
Back in the hotel room Rossi casually approached Hotch, who was staring after your abrupt exit with a deep-set frown.
"What was that about?" Rossi asked, feigning disinterest.
"I don't know. I need to go after her."
Before the taller of the two men could run after you, Rossi grabbed his arm and raised a brow.
"I would wait a bit. Unlike the female body, it's much easier to tell when the male body is in the mood."
Hotch froze, breath caught in his throat. He tried clearing it as he turned away from his longtime friend.
"Excuse me." He muttered.
Back outside, you ran your hands over your scalp, heart racing still and an array of emotions spiralling within you.
"(L/n)!" Emily shouted, having caught up with you. Her eyes widened when she came to stand in front of you, eyes fixated on your neck and chest. "Oh wow, he really did a number on you, huh?"
You flushed, scowling at her and folding your arms.
"Shut it! Leave it alone." You snapped but she didn't back down, grinning widely at you.
"I bet that felt really nice, huh? You look absolutely frazzled."
"-There you are. Looking frazzled, are we?" Derek said as he exited the hotel lobby. You wished you had a jacket right about now. He chuckled when his eyes found the hickeys decorating your skin. "Damn! Didn't know boss-man had it in him!"
You scowled at the two of them as you hugged your arms closer around yourself.
"We did what we had to do for the job. Now leave it be."
"Come on now, I bet it was a dream come true for you, right?" The dark-skinned man pressed. Shame consumed you as your gaze dropped.
"Not his though." You said quietly.
"-I wouldn't say so."
The three of you turned to find Rossi approaching you, a mischievous glint in his gaze. Your eyes narrowed a little.
"What?"
The old man shrugged, hands in his pockets.
"Let's just say he's not here right now for a reason." Was all he said. Emily snorted at the same time as Derek hollering. And yet it did nothing to help you, your thoughts having already set themselves in your mind.
"It's probably involuntary. We were in a sex club and such for a while so.."
"Come on now, you know it's because of you." Emily retorted, but you were not convinced in the slightest.
"Let's just- we need to go back to the station to do the interrogation. The sooner we get that done the sooner I can get these damn shoes off."
You turned to find one of the FBI cars and began to walk towards it. You ignored the calls of your name, waiting desperately for one of the others to give in and drive back to the station with you. In the end, Rossi unlocked the vehicle and once again he drove you away to your salvation.
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Thank you all for reading!! This one I kept getting carried away 😭 idk if it's that good but I hope you all enjoyed regardless! I wonder what will happen in the final part 😳😳
The Secrets We Keep (a Bunny and Clyde story) Masterlist
A Sugar Daddy!Hotch x BAU/cam girl!Reader series
You've been working as a cam girl for years to get yourself through college, but what happens when you start working at the BAU and it just so happens that your boss, Agent Hotchner, is one of your customers.
It's You (original ask) - After a series of coincidences, Aaron starts to suspect that his fellow agent might be the woman he's been watching pleasure herself online for months.
The Contract (coming soon)
Blurbs
Bracelets - Aaron fucks your face in a precinct bathroom to relieve some stress.
Requests are open for Bunny and Clyde, they're everything to me so pls keep them coming 🩷
As always, a shout out to the anons that have helped come up with this amazing story and to the love of my life @canuck-eh for putting up with me
Fantasies About You (Professor!Reid x College!Fem!Reader)
(Not my gif! Credit to the creator!)
Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.
Summary: I used this prompt that summarizes the fic pretty well. “Professor Reid finds a notebook full of graphic sexual fantasies written… about him. When Reader shows up to retrieve it, he confesses (and acts upon) his own fantasies.”
Word Count: 5.8k
Warnings: NSFW. Minors DNI, +18, Smut. Age gap (16 years approx.), explicit sexual content. Strong language. Masturbation is mentioned (male and female). Fingering (female receiving). Oral (male receiving). Degradation. Choking. Penetrative sex. Protected sex.
A/N: This one was written for @imagining-in-the-margins fic swap. I wrote it for the great @fortheloveofcriminalminds. I had to much fun doing it. It’s the first time I write a Professor Reid fic. Please read all the warnings above!
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*Reader’s POV*
I emptied my backpack over my bed. Books, folders, and papers were scattered, but nothing of that was what I was looking for. I scanned the inside of my bag, and nothing. I inspected item by item situated on my bed, and nothing. I just had lost my notebook, my journal.
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