FERAL. INSANE. LOSING MY MIND. THIS WAS EVERYTHING ‼️

And second idea:

Matt having a bad lawyer day and a bad Mr. Devil Sir night, the coming home to reader and needing to just let go and use reader’s body for release (with reader’s consent of course) BUT THEN he goes just a lil too far and reader has to use their safe word and Matt immediately snaps out of it then feels TERRIBLE and gets all self deprecation-y and reader comforts him 🫢😳🥹

hi nonnie! ❤️ ok first of all I must be an idiot because I could not find your first request and I don't know what I did, but if you want to re-submit it please do! thank you so much for this request, it was a bit of a challenge not gonna lie, but I really hope I did it justice and this is at least close to what you were looking for!

also just a warning: this req does include explicit sexual content, so minors please dni. I also want to give a warning that while this is purely consensual, it does include the use of reader's safe word. if that makes you uncomfortable or isn't for you, please feel free to skip this one. you will not hurt my feelings, I promise. I want this to be a safe space where everyone feels welcome & respected. while this is a little darker in content, it does have a fluffy ending with our favorite sad duck. ✨

a really bad day.

It had been a day. God, had it been a fucking day. 

It started with Matt falling back asleep after smacking his hand over his alarm so forcefully that he must have broken it, because the alarms he had preset in fifteen minute increments never followed. Your side of the bed had gone cold, and silence filled the apartment, indicating you had already left for work. Matt knew he shouldn’t be angry with you. It wasn’t your fault he overslept. He had stumbled in only a few hours earlier, and since you were always worrying that he didn’t sleep enough and could probably tell how exhausted he was, had probably decided he could use the extra few minutes. Still, he was angry.

His bad mood didn’t improve as he stomped around the bedroom, pulling his clothes on a little too aggressively that he nearly ripped some of the buttons off his shirt and tore his tie in half. The incessant voice alerting him that Foggy was calling had him seconds away from hurling his phone into the brick. He grit his teeth as he bent over to hastily tie his shoes, his entire body crying out in agony from the aftermath of last night. As badly as he wanted to stay home, he knew Foggy would chew him out for it granted the importance of the case they were working on. Matt slammed the door shut behind him so hard it sounded like thunder had erupted in the small hallway, much to his neighbors displeasure. 

The day only got worse from there. The streets of Hell’s Kitchen seemed to be a little bit more crowded than usual, or maybe Matt was just more impatient today as he darted across the busy sidewalks a little too well for someone using the aid of a cane. It was unbearably hot today, and he had already begun to sweat before he made it to the end of his street. He felt like he was trapped in a sauna underneath his clothing and prayed to God the air conditioning in the office hadn’t gone out again. All the noises and smells around him seemed to be far more intense than usual, and the overstimulation was causing a migraine to start to throb between his ears. Great.

Matt Murdock must have truly pissed off the powers that be somehow because the second he walked through the door, he was greeted with bad news from Foggy. A new piece of evidence had been found in the case they were working on that completely ripped apart their entire defense. All that hard work they had done, all those late nights burning the midnight oil the past few weeks, and their entire fucking defensive argument had been torn to shreds by a tiny piece of evidence that had been overlooked by the NYPD. It took every single ounce of self control for Matt to not snap and start taking his frustrations out on every outdated inanimate object in that office. 

He had gotten home before you, and decided to skip dinner and head straight to Fogwell’s before going out on patrol. Hit after hit he threw at the worn down bag did nothing to dull his fury. Matt yelled in frustration, throwing his bag clear across the gym in a fit of rage. He knew he couldn’t keep pounding away at that bag if he was going to have any strength left for the assholes that dared to get in the path of the Devil tonight. He was more aggressive than usual as he took man after man down throughout the night. He punched and kicked until he tasted the familiar metallic tang in the air, and was only satisfied by the sound of something breaking that wasn’t meant to break. He twisted limbs in angles they weren’t meant to be in, and had knocked five men out at least in unconsciousness. But it wasn’t enough. That blaze that had been roaring inside him since he woke up was still burning red hot.

Matt could tell from three blocks away that you were still awake. He could hear the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and your breathing, not slow enough for you to be asleep, or even close to it. Sometimes you waited up for him, just to make sure he was okay, or because you missed him. Sometimes he loved that. He loved coming home in the early hours of the night when everything was quiet and still, finding you still awake on the couch reading a book and waiting for him, telling him you couldn’t fall asleep without him tonight. He loved laying his head on your chest, feeling you draping a blanket over the two of you, and listening to your voice as you both caught up about your days. He loved the feeling of your fingers threading gently through his hair, and letting the symphony of your heartbeat ease the weight of all the violence he had encountered that night into nothingness. Sometimes he needed that. Sometimes he loved it.

But tonight all it did was piss him off. Tonight he hated it, because he felt guilty. He felt guilty that you were awake at this hour, waiting for him to come home. He felt guilty because he knew you had to be awake in a few short hours for work. He was even angrier because he knew you wouldn’t go to sleep until he let you examine him for injuries, insisting on doctoring even the most miniscule of scrapes and bruises. He hated it because he had told you countless times you didn’t have to wait up for him, and you wouldn’t fucking listen.

“Why are you still awake?”

It came out more as an accusatory statement than a question. You didn’t deserve the venom in his words. He knew that. He had never used such a harsh tone with you before, and he could tell it caught you off guard by the slight uptick in your heartbeat. That should’ve been the first alarm in his head, but he couldn’t hear it.

“I…I was waiting for you. I didn’t get to see you today. You weren’t home when I got here…and you weren’t answering your phone. I just…wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Normally, that would’ve melted Matt’s heart, and he would’ve apologized for making you worry. He would’ve been able to notice the uncertainty and nervousness lacing your voice, taking a moment to calm himself before greeting you properly. But today was not a normal day, and Matt wasn’t himself. Today those words were like gasoline antagonizing a wildfire. 

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to do that? I can take care of myself, I don’t need you to worry, and I sure as hell don’t need your pity.”

“Matt, I-”

Matt had ripped the mask off his head and sent it flying across the living room, smacking against the brick with a heavy thud. He wrapped his hand tightly around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to stop your flow of words as he dragged you up off the couch and roughly guided you towards your shared bedroom.

“Shut up. Since you’re awake, why don’t you make yourself fucking useful?”

Matt spun you around so quickly it made you dizzy, pushing you onto your knees on the bed before him with a force that nearly winded you. He ripped your panites completely off your hips like they were made of wet paper and a sharp gasp left your mouth. It wasn’t that he had never done that before, but tonight it felt different. He was different. Matt didn’t recognize the words that fell from his lips. They didn’t sound like him. He would never speak to you that way. But it was like he had blacked out and someone else had taken over his body. The other guy. As soon as he was out of his suit, he spit on his palm and rubbed it over his cock a few times to get himself hard. Pushing your head down into the mattress carelessly, he leaned down slightly to spit on the entrance of your pussy before lining himself up.

“Don’t you fucking move.”

He didn’t wait before shoving his entire length forcefully inside your tight walls, or wait for you to adjust before starting at an unforgiving pace. He didn’t recognize that the whimper that sounded from your throat was one of pain, not pleasure. He was too far gone in his own head to pay attention to anything else but how badly he needed a release. He had been trying all goddamn night to get this anger out, lashing out aggressively at anyone that got in his way, but it wasn’t fucking working and this was his last resort.

You always helped him through his pent up animosity when he came home still reeling with adrenaline and frustration. You always told him you didn’t mind when he let the Devil loose with you, and that you even enjoyed playing with him sometimes. You always told him you wanted to help, however you could, to give him what he needed. So, Matt didn’t think anything of it when he came home like this. You had assured him several times before you wanted it too. That you didn’t mind him like this, and that sometimes you needed him like this. All that he needed right now was you. If he could just make it to heaven tonight, he could leave hell behind.

Matt wasn’t paying attention to you. He had your wrists locked behind your back in a tight hold, his other hand gripped so tightly on your hip you knew there would be bruises from his fingertips. His hips were snapping relentlessly into yours and he was pistoning in and out of you so hard it was difficult for you to not collapse. His head was so clouded with blind rage that he couldn’t hear your pleas and cries of his name, or that they sounded different. Matt’s growls and grunts were animalistic as they tore through his chest, his grip getting immensely tighter and his hips moving impossibly faster as he got close. It was right there…he was almost there…just a little bit-

“Red!”

Something inside of Matt snapped when he heard you scream out your safe word, and he immediately froze. He blinked his eyes rapidly as he tilted his head down towards your body beneath him, like he was waking up from some kind of fever dream and trying to remember where he was. He instantly let go of you when he heard your shuddering breaths, and tasted the saline that escaped down your cheek. Matt’s eyes widened in horror as everything suddenly started to clear up in his selfish brain. You had been trying to get him to stop. Your pleas and cries from earlier seemed to just now hit his ears.

“Matt…please slow down…”

“Matty please…it’s too much…”

“God…can we please just…just stop for a second? Please Matty…it hurts…”

It hurts.

Matt scrambled backwards away from the bed, his back colliding with the door as he realized what he had done. How far he had taken it. How far he had pushed you. He suddenly felt nauseous, those two words clamoring around in his head.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

“Oh God, Y/N…I…I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to-”

You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, carefully sitting up on your aching knees and glancing over your shoulder to look at Matt. Your heart broke at the contrite expression of pure terror on his face. You knew he hadn’t meant to hurt you, or push you like that. You could tell from the way he shut off his alarm that morning, and the way he had come home to you, that something was off with him. You had texted and called a few times today to check on him, but had never gotten ahold of him. After calling both Foggy and Karen when you got home and Matt wasn’t there, you started to worry. Both of them confirmed his sour mood and questionable outbursts throughout the day, which gnawed at the pit of your stomach.

Whatever was going on with him, you could tell it had pushed him to his breaking point, and you had unfortunately been caught in the storm. As you got off the bed and began to walk closer towards him, calling out his name softly, Matt squeezed his eyes shut and tugged at the roots of his hair in frustration.

“Fuck, Y/N…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart…I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to, I swear-”

“Hey, I know, Matty. I know. It’s okay-”

“No! No it isn’t okay. Nothing about what just happened is okay.”

Matt’s voice broke towards the end of his sentence, and it sent a pang throughout your chest. There were tears of shame forming in his eyes, and you could see the guilt swimming around in them. It devastated you to see him like this. 

“Matty, I’m okay.”

“No you’re not, Y/N. I hurt you. I hurt you because I’m fucking-”

You quickly pressed a finger to Matt’s lips, knowing you only had a matter of minutes to get his incessant guilt under control before it really had a chance to sink in. You gently grabbed onto the back of his neck, bringing him down to press your foreheads together, and guided his hand up to settle on your chest over your heart.

“Matty, I want you to listen to me. Are you listening? I want you to listen to my heartbeat, feel it. I am okay, I promise. You are okay. We are okay. Yes, it did hurt, but only because I wasn’t ready. That’s all. You know I don’t mind when you’re a little rough, you know that. But you know you have to prep me first, make sure I’m ready too. You forgot to do that tonight, and that’s okay. You haven’t been feeling like yourself today, have you? You’ve been a little lost up there, huh?”

You kept your voice soft and barely above a whisper, gently brushing your thumb along Matt’s temple, replacing your touch with a kiss as you heard him exhale deeply and felt him slowly nod his head.

“That’s okay, baby. We all get lost sometimes. We reach our limit, and we lose our heads. You had a really bad day today, yeah?”

Matt was afraid to speak. He didn’t want to fuck up any worse than he already had. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your gentle touch and unwavering kindness. He didn’t deserve your omnipotent understanding or your pure unfiltered love. He didn’t deserve you.

You knew exactly what was going through his head, you could practically hear the scathing words. You knew Matt Murdock like the back of your hand. You knew he was simmering with self-deprecation and remorse, and would never forgive himself for tonight even though you already had. You gently cradled his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over the tops of his cheekbones.

“Matty, baby, you had a bad day today. A really bad day. But that’s okay, you know why? It’s almost over. And tomorrow is a brand new one. A fresh start. Why don’t we take a nice shower, hm? Just wash it all away, and start clean tomorrow. C’mon, bub. Come with me.”

Matt hesitantly let you lead him into the bathroom, holding onto your hand for as long as you would let him. Even though he could tell you meant every word you said from your unfaltering heartbeat, he wasn’t convinced that he was worthy of your forgiveness. Of your love. Of you.

As steam billowed above like gentle clouds, you carefully ushered Matt into the shower and lightly pushed him backwards until he stood under the flow of the water. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, his entire body visibly relaxing under the scalding stream. You moved forward to wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his chest, stroking your fingertips lovingly up and down his back. Matt’s arms came around your back slowly and cautiously, holding you delicately to his chest like you would vanish into the steam if he wasn’t careful. He had been wound up so tightly for the past 24 hours, and focusing now only on the feeling of your touch, he felt the tension finally begin to detox from his body, and he wanted to cry in relief. 

The lighter he felt, the tighter he held onto you. You sang to him softly, swaying steadily from side to side underneath the warm water together. You smiled when you felt him bury his face into your neck, bringing one of your hands up to run your fingers through his wet hair tenderly as he melted into your embrace. You pressed several soft kisses to his neck and shoulder, never once loosening your hold on him. You could feel him starting to come back to you.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I know, bub. I know. You wanna talk about it?”

“I just…everything was going wrong today. Everything was too loud, smelled too strong, felt too hot and uncomfortable. I couldn’t stop feeling anything but angry. I couldn’t snap out of it, no matter what I did.”

“You were overwhelmed Matty. You should’ve called me and came home. I would’ve come home and taken care of you, you know that baby.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I…I couldn’t think straight today. Couldn’t hardly focus. I just…wasn’t thinking. Just…feeling, everything. All at once.”

You hugged him a little tighter after his defeated confession, feeling your heart ache for him all over again. You had seen Matt struggle with sensory overload plenty of times, and irritation was usually the emotion that took over when that happened and he would get a little snappy, but you had never seen him like you had tonight. You realized how intense everything must have been for him to get to that point, and it sent fresh cracks through your heart.

“It’s okay, Matty. You’re home now, and everything is alright. I’ve got you. Why don’t you take tomorrow off, hm? I’ll stay home with you. We can spend the whole day, just me and you.”

Matt hummed quietly in response, nuzzling his face further into your neck to inhale your comforting scent. You both stood wrapped up together under the water until it started to run a little cold. 

“Foggy’s right, you know.”

“Hm?”

“He calls you ‘The Matt Whisperer’.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, smiling as you heard the faintest of chuckles muffled against your skin. You squeezed his large frame in a tight hug, reaching behind him to shut off the water.

“Daredevil and the Matt Whisperer, what a dynamic duo we make. Think I can get a sexy little outfit like yours?”

no bc you don’t understand how obsessed I am with this fic, I love you forever for writing this💓

The text post about “ your fav is fucking his fist rn thinking of you” please lord let it be for Steve ( I’m. Late I know)

a/n: heheh it is :) 1.5k words of male masturbation ayyye. also, if you have not already, go check out @heavenbarnes’ ficlet, which haunts me everyday. please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

slow hands*

Steve jerks off— a lot.

Even before the serum, when he was just any other violently hormonal, grass-fed, free-range human boy, instinct couldn’t be denied. Even after a long period of reflection during his catechism days, he wasn’t able to make heads or tales out of why any creator might give two shits about whether or not Steve fucks his hand.

Now as a whopping 200-pound slab of grade-A, laboratory-engineered, serum-enhanced super-soldier, if he doesn’t pump one out every twenty-four hours, it’s hard to focus on much else. All of that unbridled testosterone crawls right up behind his eyes and his brain fizzles at the edges, agitated like an animal in a cage.

(So, although it’s mostly pleasure, it’s also necessity.)

He knows that it’s best before bed because early mornings or while showering requires working within the constraints of a ticking clock; if he’s got a packed schedule and needs a quick rub, fine, but not his favorite.

He knows that he likes certain activities, and if he’s looking at porn, specific categories and maybe a few performers will fit a niche—but sometimes he’ll spiral into a hundred other videos and he’s stayed up one (or five) too many nights doing that.

More than anything, Steve knows nothing beats his imagination, and he knows the best lies you can tell are ones with a bit of truth attached to them.

So, he plays a little game.

He thinks about you.  

Cheeky you, who’s always teasing him about taking life too seriously. So prim and proper, Steve, you purr, always Mr. Punctual. Aren’t you tired of being nice? Loosen up—go dancing, meet a girl, have a one-night stand; fuck with the lights on for once.

Hm. Sure he’d like to, but all he’s got is about forty-five minutes before bed because he’s frankly too busy (see: stubborn, see: not interested in just any girl) for anything else.

For forty-five minutes, Steve takes a moment of truth and runs warp speed into the burning sunset with it.

The time you put your hand in his hair to fix a flyaway before a press conference—what if you gripped it hard, instead? Your candy pink lip gloss on Friday evening—what if it smudged off on his jaw, his collar, his eager cock? How you looked lifting out of the pool with rivulets of water dribbling into the hollow of your throat—what if he pressed his cheek to it, drank from it?

(The expression that might cross your face when you realize Steve would very much like to fuck you with the lights on.)

When you kissed him on that mission in Thailand, sliding into his lap to hide the both of you in a corner nook of a restaurant. The taste of sweetened coffee passed from your mouth to his, and he couldn’t help but dart his tongue out. You playfully scolded him about taking advantage of a dangerous situation (it wasn’t that dangerous), and despite all your usual attitude, it was surprisingly cute how you couldn’t make eye contact afterwards, making him want to kiss you again just to figure you out.

Last night—when you smiled, the glimmer in your eyes like a sliver of moonlit coin and if he blinked at the wrong time, he might have missed it. Your breathy laugh, your little giggle, how you raggedly pant while you spar, he thinks about those sounds mingled with his name. Your weight, a perfect amount of pressure crawling on top of him, mapping out the expanse of his chest.

He’d be happy just to watch, finally able to see you in glimpses not bordering voyeuristic like when you zip up in the hangar or concerned when you peel off Kevlar layers smudged with gunpowder. No, you’d be relaxed and tangible, full and felt—breasts, waist, belly, the sides of your hips as you straddle him, pulling his hands toward your body and letting him touch you.

Steve sighs into the darkness of his room, sweats shucked off, lube-slick hand feeling for his already aching cock. What’s he going to think about tonight? The small of your back when you lean over the pool table? The long, graceful shape of your fingers exploring his torso? Your face dazed, tipsy-tinged after a few drinks and sweet on his shoulder?

(He would like more of that. He could make you look like that if you ever asked.)

His hips move in careful circles, testing his grip, nudging at the tunnel of his fist like how your pussy would resist the first thrust until he wedges his way past it, slipping the head of his cock into your warmth. You’d be so, so warm. So soft and tight and perfectly fitted around him.

“Ah, fuck,” Steve mutters, eyes squeezed shut.  

He fucks into his fist, the sound of slick gushing out like wet slaps, like the hot clutch of noise your tight hole would make as he’d stretch it out—as he’d stretch you out.

He’s panting harder. You‘d look breathtaking on all fours, head turned around to see him rutting inside, jaw slack in disbelief that your body could keep taking him like this, like you could break any moment.  

The pretty, pretty whimpers at the harsh punctuation of every thrust. They’d tear loose from your throat and you wouldn’t be able to bite them down anymore. You could unravel because of him—shattering because he’ll have gotten past your defenses, gotten so deep you could do nothing but arch back for more, needing him further, needing him to know you how nobody else knows you.

Steve’s mind races through each position— every arrangement of your arms and legs in ways you’d give into because he would make the burn delicious, blurring discomfort into pleasure, and how you wouldn’t care if it might hurt because desire would be the drive— him behind the wheel taking you closer to that cliff’s edge.

He’s peeling off into the horizon now, moaning, bucking carelessly, blinded by the bright sun, by the white threatening to explode behind his eyes.

“Uhhhnn—” he looks down at his throbbing cock, swollen with friction and fiction, his other hand rolling the tender skin of his sac between his fingers. He squeezes a hair trigger tighter, in pulses, mimicking how you’d feel close to coming, begging for his release to fill you. Your hands gripping his hair for purchase, hard and frenzied, the scrape of your nails on his scalp. And finally, the abandoned, purely physical response of your body during orgasm, the undeniable wrecked wail of his name.

He’d be rough and gentle all at once, he’d make you taste yourself, clean up the mess you’ve made on him, and then he’d kiss it out of your mouth when he fucks you again. You’d be sore already, and sore the next day. He’d want to leave you aching, shuddering, babbling and delirious for more, for only him.

You’d cry, Steve, oh—my god—oh my god—feels so good, Steve. Fuck me harder, please. However you want—whatever you want, I promise.

You’d suck on his fingers, bite down when it became too much, too good. You’d shake, and shake, and shake and Steve— he falls.

Spun out, headfirst, off the steepest bluff of his inventions and crashes into open waves beneath. Your moaning mouth, your soaked cunt, your entire being an unprimed canvas waiting for his splatter.

And it’d be perfect.  

He comes in ropes, gasping into the reverberating echo of his own breath, hips still moving, back still arched, wet slick dripping down into his fist where he keeps going, using it as another coat of lube. Maybe you’d squirt. Maybe you’d put your face in your hands, embarrassed, or maybe you’d lose all control and he’ll have to hold you up.  

The second wave comes fast and better than the first.

The third, easy, only tinged with a prickle of rawness that makes his toes curl.  

Steve’s chest is sweat-slick and heaving, heat rising off his body as he evens out, throat murmuring the syllables of your name in yearning. He nudges hair off his forehead with the back of his clean hand, and then he checks his clock.

Back to reality, forty-five minutes on the dot tells him he’s still punctual, as you say.

He cleans up, stretching his back as he ambles to the restroom before returning to bed, satisfied. And when Steve tucks himself in for another peaceful night’s sleep, he wonders what you do in the privacy of darkness and if your ritual is anything like his own.

Do you shuck off your lounge clothes? Do you fuck yourself beneath layers of covers with your fingers? A toy? Grab your tits and put those same fingers in your mouth? Do you think about someone—do you think about him? His dick is still half-hard, half-raring for another session because the fourth and fifth time, when it hurts even worse, feels like coming up for breath after a drowning-- feels beyond good.

He’ll think about you some more tomorrow.  

(He’ll think about making you come four or five times.)

I just know he lasts all night long!

Te Lo Ruego

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

nsfw masterlist | main masterlist

word count: 0.8k

summary: miguel is desperate for just a taste

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, miguel being a munch and pussy drunk, that’s it, it’s just him being desperate to eat you out <3 also, spanish (translation at the end)

A/N: I read two words and was inspired to write this…took me about an hour and now this is all i’m thinking about, please enjoy // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

Keep reading

WEREWOLF RHETT‼️🔊🔊🔊

i smile at the moon | rhett abbott

description: in which two wild souls become knit together as one

warnings: 18+ only, werewolves, violence, animals fighting, perry abbott slander, mentions of death, family drama, mentions of blood, smut, breeding kink, unprotected sex (basically a mating ritual lol), possessiveness, creampie, biting, scratching, all around animalistic themes

pairing: werewolf!rhett abott x f!werewolf!reader

notes: yeah so this started out as me wanting to write naughty werewolf smut and then it turned into a 10k+ word story complete with my own werewolf lore. thanks to @lovinglyeternal bc they basically created this monster by sending me a werewolf rhett concept. you are responsible for my insanity ;-)

He could smell you. 

Each inhale of your scent was intoxicating. Stronger and sweeter than anything he’d ever smelled before. Citrusy, in a way. Warm and spicy like a hot cider. 

All his life he’d been told that the scent of one’s mate was unique and indescribable. The most wonderful, appealing, all-consuming scent. Before he found you, he’d tried to imagine what it would smell like. His mama’s brown butter chocolate cookies, fresh out of the oven? Cotton candy, from the county fair? The comforting sweetness that hung in the air of his favorite childhood ice cream shop?

However, all of those scents paled in comparison to you. It hit him like a freight train the first time he met you. His knees went weak, his spine tingled as if he’d been struck by a bolt of white-hot lightning. It hit you just as hard, overwhelming your every sense. At that very moment, both of you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you were made for each other. The Fates had brought you together and your bond would never be severed. 

You would never forget that first meeting in the woods. You were part of a neighboring pack. New to the region, having recently migrated from your old home because tensions between your pack and a rival one had grown to concerning levels. 

To avoid a full-blown war, your pack had moved out west, hoping to start fresh. And a fresh start was exactly what you found. But little did you know that it would also lead you to find the one you were destined for. 

You met him the day his pack came to make a formal introduction and welcome you to the region. The Northeast Wyoming pack was comprised of the Abbott family descendants. 

However, the pack was not as great as it had once been. What used to dominate the entire northeastern region of Wyoming had been reduced to a very small family of wolves. Royal, the alpha. His wife Cecelia. Their son, Perry; the eldest and next in line for alpha status, and their younger son, Rhett. Finally, there was Amy, Perry’s young daughter. 

Rumor had it Perry once had a wife, but she’d ultimately left the pack and chosen to become an omega. Or, so you’d heard. 

When you heard the pack was coming to welcome you to the area, you had no idea what to expect. These were potential allies, but if something went wrong, they could very quickly become your enemy. You hoped it wouldn’t come to that. You were tired of fighting and wanted nothing more than to finally enjoy a season of peace. 

Little did you know that you were about to meet the one you would mate with for life. 

They came at sunset, bearing gifts. Food for your table. Good bottles of wine. They even brought a few toys for some of the small children in your pack.

Cecelia did most of the talking. She was warm and friendly and gave you a hearty welcome, informing you that she was so happy to have new neighbors in the region, and was looking forward to rebuilding the community they’d lost over the years. 

Silently, you wondered why their pack was so small. Yours had nearly twenty members. Theirs had five. Perry had a child, an heir, already. Which left Rhett, the only one who hadn’t furthered the bloodline yet.

Of the whole family, he was the last one to arrive that night. Royal made an offhanded comment about him always being late, and how he was just being lazy. The comment rubbed you the wrong way. Especially since Rhett wasn’t even there to defend himself. You didn’t even know the man, but you already felt a strange sense of protectiveness toward him. 

Odd, you thought. But instead of dwelling on it, you simply turned and joined the rest of your pack, ready for the evening’s festivities to begin. 

Rhett arrived a little while later. A rickety old GMC Sierra pulled into the gravel driveway, and it caught your attention. You glanced over to see a young man climbing out of the driver’s side. You couldn’t quite see his face yet, but you could tell he was handsome. 

That’s when you caught it. The breeze blew in your direction, and a scent unlike anything you’d ever smelled before filled your entire being. Deep and musky, like pine and woodsmoke, yet sharp and fresh, like the air after a rainfall. 

It pulled the deepest of gasps from you, and you dropped the stack of plates you’d been carrying out of the house for the outdoor supper. You vaguely heard your mother calling your name, asking what was wrong, but you hardly registered it. Without another thought, your legs were moving of their own accord, carrying you straight for the brunette-haired man walking up the lane. 

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a figure quickly approaching. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. It was the scent. Sweet and spicy and delicious. He tensed, his eyes widening as his nostrils flared slightly. He’d never been hit with something so strong and irresistible. Suddenly his world was spinning off its axis as he realized what this meant. 

His heart began to pound in his chest. His palms grew clammy. His knees went weak. And then, suddenly, you were in front of him, eyes glowing yellow, bright as the sun, and he thought he was going to suffocate right then and there as the breath left his lungs. 

You weren’t sure who moved forward first. But all at once you were in each other’s space, like two lovers reunited after years apart. 

Rhett leaned in and pressed his nose to the side of your neck, breathing in deeply. You buried your face against his chest and inhaled sharply. This was customary for wolves. Especially ones mated to each other, to greet one another by taking in the other’s scent.

When you parted, you realized that his eyes were glowing, too. 

“It’s you,” he whispered, awestruck. His chest heaved. He could hardly take in oxygen. 

You barely knew what to do with yourself. You were so overwhelmed that all you could do was stare at him, drinking him in. The one you had dreamed of since you were small. Your hands lifted of their own accord, and you ran them over his face. Down his neck. Across his chest. Feeling that he was in fact real and that this wasn’t a dream. 

Then, when you found your voice, you breathlessly spoke. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.” 

Rhett finally found the breath he needed, and a disbelieving laugh brushed past his parted lips. He could hardly believe his eyes. Here you were, standing before him. The one he thought he’d never meet. He’d been certain that he was cursed to go through life without a mate. Yet here you were, standing in front of him, and an all-consuming sense of elation buzzed through him, like fizzy champagne in his veins.

You watched as he took a step back, his boots crunching against gravel as he threw his head back, face turned to the sky. He took a deep breath and let out a deep wolf howl, sounding through the wilderness. It echoed off the trees and it shook you to your core.

You couldn’t help the laughter that began to pour from your mouth. Laughter of disbelief. Laughter of joy. Laughter of love. “It’s you!” You repeated his own words from moments prior, still laughing, so happy you could barely contain it. 

He looked back at you, his eyes, back to a thrilling and human blue, framed by smile lines as he grinned at you. His howl had alerted the rest of your pack, and his own, and moments later, they were all gathering in the clearing to see what was going on.

You grabbed Rhett’s hand, holding it up high as your fingers intertwined. “I’ve found him!” You cried. “I’ve found my mate!”

That night, what had started as a friendly dinner between new neighbors turned into a celebration that lasted well into the night. It was a joyous occasion, to find one’s mate, deserving of an extravagant celebration. 

You swore you didn’t stop smiling for the entire night. The realization that in a moment of divine fate, you had met the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. Your soulmate. The half to your whole. Suddenly, all the strife that you’d gone to just to get to this point seemed all worth it. Because now, here was this beautiful man beside you, rugged but gentle, with kind eyes and a shy smile. And he was everything you’d dreamed he would be. 

Your families gave you time alone that night, and you walked beneath the light of the half moon, side by side, straying away from all the activity to find a quiet spot. 

You sat in a clearing in the woods and you talked for hours. You told Rhett all about your pack, and the unrest that had forced you to move all the way out here to Wyoming. You spoke of each pack member with such reverence and respect, and it sent a pang of envy through him. 

He revealed to you that he did not have the most positive relationship with his family. 

“We’ve, uh, we’ve been through some shit, the last few years. It’s put a strain on the pack. ‘specially my relationship with my brother.” He gazed out across the expanse of the woods, and in the silver light of the moon, you saw a sadness in his eyes. “His wife Rebecca left him and Amy. He didn’t take it very well.”

“That’s sad,” you whispered sympathetically. “Do you know why she left?”

Rhett’s eyes remained trained toward the distance, and you didn’t miss the way his jaw tensed. “Don’t tell my folks I said this, but he ran ‘er off. I saw it comin’ from a mile away, but everybody else seemed blindsided when she wound up running for the hills.”

“Were they mates?” You questioned. 

“Nah. Perry said they were, but they weren’t. He didn’t want to wait to find his mate. Went against pack customs just so he could have Rebecca for his own. She went along with it at first. Even had a baby with him. But when I tell you I ain’t never seen a more unhappy woman in my life. She was a nice gal but she was fuckin’ miserable with my brother. Eventually it got so bad that she up and left. Didn’t even take Amy with her, that’s how bad things were,” he explained. 

Your eyes widened at the thought. You’d always been told that the bond between mama wolves and their pups was unmatched, running deeper than even the lowest depth of the sea. For one to just up and leave her baby was unheard of. It made you shudder to think just how terrible things must have been to push Rebecca away like that. 

You shook your head. “Poor Amy.”

Rhett hummed in agreement. “Her mama’s been gone a year now. She’s adapted okay, but she seems kinda lonely. Kids at school can’t relate to her because they ain’t wolves like she is.”

“I guess it really was fate that brought us here then, huh? All my little cousins will befriend her, she won’t have to worry about feeling as alone anymore.”

He smiled softly, glancing at you. “Sure am thankful to that Fate fella. I’ll have to thank him if I ever meet him face to face. Thank him for bringin’ you to me.”

It was your turn to smile, and you turned your face away, hiding the shy glimmer that lit up your eyes. But Rhett reached out, hooking his fingers under your chin and turning your face back toward him. “I know we’ve got some more formalities to go through before we’re joined together, but I want you to know that right here, right now, I’m pledgin’ myself to you and only you for the rest of my life.”

You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply again, letting his intoxicating scent wash over you once more. “And I pledge myself to you,” you replied. 

Your gaze remained fixed on his own, and his hand shifted, moving to cup your cheek. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back up to your own eyes, as if asking permission. You gave the tiniest of nods, and he leaned in, so close you could almost taste him. 

Until, suddenly, a sharp whistle sounded through the woods. You broke apart abruptly, and Rhett sighed, rising to his feet. “That would be my mama.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Guess we should head back then.”

And so you did, walking hand in hand back to the house. You knew from that moment on that everything was about the change. You would soon begin the ritual of preparing for your wedding, a formality in which your packs would be joined together through your matrimony. Everything you had been dreaming of for your entire life was finally coming true, and it all felt so close, yet so far. 

That night, after you bid goodnight to Rhett, you went to bed with a smile on your face and warmth in your heart. You fell asleep dreaming of the life you would lead together. A future that held many unspoken promises. A home of your own. A growing family that would carry on your bloodline, one of the greatest honors that could be bestowed upon a wolf. 

In the following weeks, much preparation was made. You began the process of getting to know Rhett, spending many nights going on walks, learning the inner workings of one another. And then came the week just before your wedding. A night on which the moon hung low and full-bellied in the sky. The night you shifted beneath the glow of that very moon, sharing the very special and intimate moment of transforming into your wolves.

Rhett’s wolf was deep brown, almost black, with the softest fur you’d ever felt. He was breathtaking, and as you shifted into your own wolf, you found yourself nuzzling into him, letting him know you were there, that you were with him until death did you part. 

And then, finally, your wedding day arrived. It was a beautifully warm day. The sun filtered through the trees and cast dapples of light all over, like rays of magic falling from the sky. You’d kept things simple, as wolf weddings normally were. A crown of flowers placed delicately upon your head. A simple, flowing dress. Bare feet so you could feel the forest floor beneath you.

You stood before Rhett, underneath the swaying leaves of a century-old weeping willow, where you spoke your vows to one another, and joined yourselves, and your packs, as one. 

As you pledged yourself to your mate, you wept tears of joy, and when he kissed you, so tenderly and reverently, you held onto him tightly, as if he might disappear if you let go. Now that you’d found him, you never wanted to let him go. 

“I’m yours,” he whispered against your mouth. 

“Forever,” you echoed. 

The celebration that followed was grand. Music and dancing, old folk tales told around a bonfire whose flames seemed to touch the very sky. It was the most wonderful night of your life, and nothing could steal your immense joy away. 

And so, your life together began. Your union brought your families together, and gave the Abbotts a sense of community that they had not previously had. Just as you’d hoped, Amy made friends with the young ones in your pack. Your parents developed a strong connection with Royal and Cecelia. The rest of your family was warm and welcoming. 

As you became integrated with the Abbotts, you made the decision to live on their property. Before you’d even met, Rhett had been in the process of converting the old barn loft into an apartment. It soon became a project that you worked to complete together. A home built with love, filled with love. 

Through that process, while you waited for the apartment to become livable, you took up residence in Rhett’s childhood bedroom. It was small, but it was comfortable, and it smelled like him, your favorite scent in the whole wide world, so you were content. 

Living in the house allowed you to grow closer to his mother, and especially to his niece Amy. Your heart ached for the little girl and all that she had been through. You longed to be a comfort to her if she needed it. And much to your utter joy, she took well to you. 

“I’m happy you’re mated to Uncle Rhett,” she told you in earnest. “I’ve never seen him smile so much before. I can tell he really loves you.”

Her words made your heart warm in your chest. “I’m happy, too,” you replied. 

The girl’s face fell a little as she looked down at the napkins she was folding for the dinner table. “I wish my mama and daddy had looked at each other like that.”

And in an instant, your heart was breaking in your chest. 

The absence of Rebecca Abbott weighed heavily on the entire family. Cecelia still held out hope that she would return. Royal liked to claim that she’d gone and “shacked up with a good-for-nothin’ lowlife.” Perry liked to insist she was going to come back any day and beg for his forgiveness. 

Rhett believed otherwise. “I don’t think she’d ever come back here in a million years. Either she found another pack, or she’s out there still runnin’ around as an omega,” he told you. 

Rhett’s belief that she wasn’t coming back, and Perry’s insistence that she was, often caused tension between the brothers. They both tried to remain civil for Amy’s sake, but it seemed that Perry was only growing more restless as time went on. 

He would get especially agitated just before the full moon. Which was natural for any wolf, but with him, it seemed to increase tenfold. And when his anger and bitterness reached its breaking point, he would take it out on whoever was in his path. Usually, it was Rhett. 

You would never forget the first time you witnessed him blow up at your husband in front of you. There was one thing you were certain of in that very moment: it was going to be the last time he ever did it. 

A perfectly quiet family dinner in the Abbott kitchen was disrupted when the conversation turned to Rebecca. It was Perry who brought her up, claiming that he was certain she would return soon, that he could feel it. 

It was very common for wolves to be able to feel when their mate was near. You always felt Rhett’s presence when you were apart, and it was that much stronger when you were together. 

However, you and Rhett both knew what utter bullshit it was for Perry to claim he could feel her when they weren’t even mates to begin with. And his comment pushed Rhett to react. 

“Quit sayin’ she’s gonna come back. You and I both know she won’t ever come back here again, Per.” The moment he said it, Rhett wished he could take the words back. Not because of his brother, but because of Amy. 

Her wide eyes flickered up from the plate that she’d been staring at. But instead of looking at Rhett, she looked at her father. 

“Is that true, Dad?” She asked, her voice small. 

Perry clenched his jaw as he glared at his brother. “Now look what you did. Got my daughter all upset.”

Rhett sighed. The child needed to hear the truth. “Look, Ames. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. Your mama isn’t coming back.”

Without so much as a warning, Perry shoved his plate away, which bumped his glass of water and sent it spilling across the table. You tensed beside Rhett, afraid of what was coming. 

“Perry!” Cecelia exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at her son’s outburst. 

He stood up from his chair, its wooden legs scraping against the linoleum. “What’d I fuckin’ tell you, Rhett? You’re really gonna upset a little girl like that and rip away the last shred of hope she had left?”

Rhett sighed deeply, shaking his head. “It’s better than you lyin’ to her about it.”

“Fuck you!” He shouted. “Ever since you brought this bitch into our home you’ve been subscribing to her fuckin’ ideals.” He motioned toward you. “She probably put you up to this, didn’t she? Told you to destroy what hope my daughter had left.”

At the derogatory comment directed at you, Rhett shot out of his seat, quick as lightning, his eyes glowing. You followed suit, immediately on the defensive. 

“Alright, enough!” Royal barked. But even his authoritative tone didn’t get the attention of his boys. 

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that!”

“It’s true! She’s fuckin’ changed you, man. Turned you into someone I don’t even recognize.”

“Yeah, she changed me! Into a better man! Which is more than I can say Rebecca ever did for you! Oh wait, that’s because she wasn’t even your mate to begin with!”

“Stop!” Amy cried, already in tears. “Just stop!”

But it was too late. Perry had been pushed over the edge, and before anyone could even register what was happening, he was lunging. Cecelia tried to grab him, but he was too quick, and in seconds, he was crowding Rhett’s space.

But he didn’t get very far. Much to your own surprise, you moved faster than you ever had in your life, placing yourself in front of your husband. Your body burned with the overwhelming desire to protect. Your eyes flashed yellow, and you bared your fangs, growling lowly. 

“Touch him and I’ll drop you right where you stand,” you snarled. 

Perry growled right back at you, his eyes going bright yellow to match your own. You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he made another move toward Rhett, you would go for his throat. 

“Dad, stop,” Amy spoke up. She got up from the table and ran to stand between you both. She let out a little growl of her own, entirely non-threatening, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to see her family fighting. “Please. Everyone just stop! I don’t want you to fight!”

“Listen to your daughter, Perry,” you spoke out. You could feel Rhett against your back, ready to act if need be. 

A beat passed. You held Perry’s gaze, unwilling to back down. Another beat. Then, finally, he surrendered, stepping back. He knew it wasn’t worth it. It was suicide to go up against another wolf’s mate. When it came to protecting what was yours you would fight to the death. Perry seemed to know he wouldn’t stand a chance. 

He had no idea what it was like. He’d never experienced that deep, primal, territorial need to protect. Not with Rebecca. He had it with Amy, but that was different. She was his child, it was natural to protect her. But he had no idea how deep the bonds of two truly mated wolves went. He couldn’t bond with Rebecca in that way because she’d never been his to begin with. 

Rather than fight a losing fight, Perry stalked away that night, leaving the rest of you in the kitchen to process what had just happened. And Amy, who remained in front of you until her father disappeared from the room, finally turned, and rushed into your arms. 

Your heart broke as she began to cry. “I’m sorry!” She whimpered, apologizing for her father’s behavior. 

It only made you angry, because it wasn’t fair that this 9-year-old little one had to apologize for him. You hated all she had been subjected to in her young age. And that was the moment you pledged to always look out for her. If her mama wasn’t going to do it, then you would. And you would do a damn good job of it, too. 

After that night, Perry steered clear of you. He seemed to realize that if he were to ever challenge you, you would kill him. No hesitation. He didn’t stand a chance. Rhett knew that you had his back, and you would always stand by him, even when faced with adversity brought upon him by his own family. 

That protectiveness was a two-way street. Rhett looked out for you just as fiercely as you did him. And while you were busy defending him against his brother, he was going to bat for you against other things. You would never forget the first time you saw him physically defend you. It was seared into your mind like a brand.

You were out on a hike with Amy. It was blackberry season, and she was desperate to pick them while they were perfectly ripe. Her grandmother was too busy with other gardening endeavors to go out into the woods to help her pick wild ones, so you offered to go instead. 

Before the heat of the day grew too overwhelming, the two of you set off, with you leaving a kiss against Rhett’s lips and a promise that you’d be back in time to join him for lunch later that day. Amy was so excited, babbling excitedly the entire hike up into the woods. 

She was fascinated by all things nature, and she knew the area like the back of her hand, so she was well aware of where the very best berries grew. She led you deeper and deeper into the woods until you came upon an entire gathering of sprawling blackberry bushes, ripe for the picking.

“See? I told ya!” She excitedly said, running on ahead of you, her tin bucket swinging in her hands. 

You couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness, quickening your steps so you could catch up with her. What followed was an hour-long blackberry picking process, and after the fact, that bucket was full to the brim with ripe, juicy berries. 

“Grandma’s gonna be so happy! She can make her blackberry preserves! And blackberry pie! And blackberry syrup for pancakes!” She spoke a mile a minute, informing you of all the ways the berries could be used, and how she couldn’t wait for you to try them all. 

However, you found yourself growing distracted when the wind carried a strange scent in your direction. You paused, lifting your head and breathing in deep. Something didn’t feel right. Amy noticed this, and she eyed you curiously. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I smell something,” you replied. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. 

Amy turned, sniffing at the air. Then, suddenly, she gasped. “Cougar,” she said. 

You glanced around. You couldn’t see it, but you could tell the animal was close. You’d never had an encounter with a cougar. While you knew you could hold your own against an animal like that, having Amy in tow only made you nervous that the cougar would try to harm her. Surely it would be able to sense that you were wolves and not normal human beings. But maybe that would only make things worse. 

You wrapped your arm around Amy’s shoulders. “Let’s just go. Maybe it’ll leave us alone.”

But no sooner had you spoken than you heard a bone-chilling growl, and you turned, catching sight of a large cat just ahead of you. Your blood turned to ice in your veins, and on instinct, you pushed Amy behind you, keeping a hand on her as you slowly backed away.

You locked eyes with the cougar, flashing your golden irises, hoping that would be a deterrent. However, the cat only bared its fangs and crouched back on its haunches. Your heart began to hammer in your chest. There was no time to hesitate. 

“The second he jumps, I want you to run,” you told Amy.

“But I don’t wanna leave you!” She exclaimed, trembling with fear. 

“You can’t shift yet. You’re safer running than you are staying here with me,” you emphasized. Amy was just a baby, her wolf hadn’t even made its appearance yet, and even if it had, it would only be a pup. Not strong enough to fight a fully grown cougar. 

“But-” she never had a chance to finish the sentence, because in a flash, the cat was lunging at you. Amy let out a shrill scream that carried through the trees. 

On the Abbott ranch, Rhett’s head snapped up when he heard the scream. He had been hard at work trying to finish up the project of converting the old barn, but at the sound of his niece’s shriek, he dropped the tools he was holding. 

A shock of what felt like electricity rippled through him, and he grunted, realizing that you were in danger. Without a moment’s hesitation, he was running, hyper-focused on the area that the sound had come from. As he ran, his body shifted and transformed, until, moments later, he was no longer a man, but a sleek, black wolf, running fast as the wind. 

In the woods, you were preparing to fight for your life. You physically tossed Amy out of the way so that when the cat landed, it would hit you instead of her. You didn’t even have time to shift into your wolf. Or, rather, white-hot terror blossomed within you when you realized you couldn’t shift. 

Your fangs had elongated and your claws had come out, but your body remained in its human form. And when you realized this, it was too late. 200 pounds of muscle crashed into your chest, sending you back toward the forest floor.

You screamed, growling as threateningly as possible, but it didn’t seem to do much to scare the animal. You thought for certain that this was it, that you were going to die right then and there. But then, in a flash of black fur glinting in the sunlight, an earth-rattling roar ripped through the air, and in a split second, the cat was no longer on top of you.

Gasping sharply, you sat up, eyes wild as you took in the sight before you. There was Rhett in his wolf form, and he had the cougar by the neck. Beside you, Amy let out a sob as she scrambled toward you. You grabbed her, wrapping your arms protectively around her, turning her face away so she wouldn’t have to watch. 

The cat snarled and hissed, clawing at Rhett’s wolf, and it caught him on the side, at which he let out an agonized yelp that made you flinch. But he quickly regained dominance and in seconds, the cat let out an inhuman screech and quickly scrambled away from the wolf, turning to hiss once more before running off, wounded, into the woods, clearly realizing it was not going to win this fight.

Rhett followed after it to make sure it was long gone. In the meantime, Amy was crying against your chest. “Is it gone?!” She whimpered. 

You ran your fingers through her honey-colored hair, soothing her softly, even as your own body still trembled with fear. “Yes, baby. It’s gone.”

She sat upright, glancing around. “Where’s Uncle Rhett?!” Her voice was panicked, terrified.

But you didn’t have to reassure her, for seconds later, the wolf returned. Amy scrambled to her feet and ran to him, falling to her knees as she threw her arms around his neck. The wolf whined lowly as he nuzzled against the girl, sniffing at her to make sure she was unharmed. 

As you approached, he locked eyes with you, and you knelt beside Amy, reaching out to run your hand over his fur. You could tell he was hurt. The slash in his side from the cougar’s claws was bleeding crimson. But he wouldn’t rest until he saw you both to safety.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and he rested his head upon your shoulder before he finally pulled away. He pointed his head toward the trail home, wanting you to follow, and so you did. Amy gathered up her half-spilled bucket of berries, grabbed onto your hand, and followed Rhett’s wolf out of the woods and back toward the house. 

It was only after he made sure that you and Amy were safely returned home that he allowed himself to shift back to his human form. As Cecelia fussed over Amy, Rhett trotted after you into his bedroom upstairs, and as soon as the door was shut, his fur faded away, giving way to pale, smooth skin. Within moments, there was your husband kneeling bare before you, all signs of his animal form gone. 

“Baby,” you breathed, falling to your knees in front of him, reaching your hands up to hold his face. “You’re hurt.” The claw marks along his ribs looked even worse in his human form. 

He shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll heal,” he replied. Then it was his turn to check you over for any harm. “Did that son’bitch hurt you?”

“I…I don’t think so. Just scared me, is all. I couldn’t shift, and by the time I realized that, it was on top of me.”

Rhett’s brow furrowed as he frowned, large hands coming up to rest against either side of your neck. “It’s ‘cause you were scared,” he whispered. “It’s happened to me before. I froze up, got so fuckin’ into my head that my wolf didn’t wanna come out.”

“Really?” You asked, a little relieved that you weren’t alone.

“Yeah. She’ll come out again, don’t you worry.”

You hummed in understanding, happy that Rhett knew exactly what you were dealing with, and that it was nothing to worry about. Then, the time for realization kicked in. The realization that it all could have been so much worse, and you were lucky that Rhett stepped in when he did. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, after you’d both finally stood, allowing Rhett to gather a clean set of clothes. “I feel so fucking useless, not being able to protect Amy the way I needed to. I hate that I froze up. I’m just so relieved you heard us and got to us in time.”

Rhett shook his head, stepping toward you as he finished pulling on his jeans. String fingers tilted your chin up. “You did your best in a fuckin’ scary situation. Hell, you were ready to sacrifice yourself so Amy would be safe. That’s not you bein’ useless. You protected her just like any mama wolf would protect her pup.”

His words brought unexpected tears to your eyes. When he saw them glimmering along your lash line, he smiled softly, thumb stroking over your cheek. “You did good, little wolf.”

The nickname, which he’d dubbed you after the first few weeks of knowing you, made you smile, despite the tears running down your cheeks. 

After that encounter, it seemed that your bond only deepened. You grew even closer than before, your hearts knit together by an unbreakable invisible force. And as your love blossomed and flourished, you crossed the threshold of new milestones together. 

One of those milestones was finally moving into the old barn that you’d been renovating together. It had gone from a barebones wooden shell to a cozy home with room for your family to grow. It allowed you to still remain near the rest of your combined pack, but also gave you a haven of privacy. Gone were the days of sharing his childhood bedroom and trying to stay quiet while in a house full of wolves with keen hearing. Now you had your own space to do whatever you pleased together. 

Although moving into your own space was a very big milestone for you, it was nothing compared to what was coming your way. 

There was a very special and celebrated time that took place between werewolf couples. Much like regular wolves, werewolves had a mating season. The first season shared between mates was pivotal in their relationship. 

You and Rhett had yet to experience that season yet. On your own, you had endured heats before. It was only a natural occurrence. But you had heard that the heat you experienced on your own was nothing compared to that first one you would experience with your mate. 

Secretly, in your own mind, you had fantasized about what it might be like. You were already insatiable enough as it was during heat. The thought of it being increased tenfold was unimaginable for you. 

You knew the pattern of your cycle. It was easy to follow. You would enter into heat twice a year. Once in the springtime, and once in autumn. Each time it would last around 7 to 14 days. 

Your marriage to Rhett took place in early summertime. Which meant, along with the changing of leaves and the cooling of the air, you would soon be entering into that heat stage. You knew it was coming. It was marked in red on your calendar. 

You were nervous, to say the least. While you were eager to experience it with him, it was all so new. Sex was not a foreign concept between the two of you. You’d had it plenty of times since your marriage. But this was different. This was a primal, instinctual ritual. One that could potentially result in your bloodline being continued. 

You were entirely unprepared for just how intense it would be. As the season turned, your body prepared itself for another cycle. It started subtly at first, but soon grew into so much more. 

Possessiveness and protectiveness over your mate was the first thing you noticed, increased even more so than usual. That possessive streak reared its ugly head when an unsuspecting human girl tried to flirt with Rhett. You found yourself pulling him against your side and quite literally growling at her. It was not your proudest moment, but you could not control the wolf inside you. She did what she wanted. 

The protectiveness came when anyone disrespected him. It didn’t matter who. Although Perry generally tried to steer clear of running his mouth at Rhett in your presence, there were times when he slipped up. And this time around, you found yourself with your claws at his throat when he made a comment under his breath. 

“Say it again,” you hissed, baring your sharp canines. “Go on, say it!”

It took both Rhett and Royal to pull you off of him. That instance, however, you were not sorry for. You would never be ashamed of defending your husband. 

Soon, the irritability and possessiveness melted away into something else. Your every sense was heightened. Your already keen wolf senses were increased to the point where you could hardly even bear it. 

And then came the desire. 

Nothing in the world could have prepared you for how all-consuming it would be. It hit you like a freight train, slamming into your body and sending you into orbit. It started as a dull ache that very quickly began to spread throughout your body. 

The first day you woke up with it, you were animalistic. It drove you out of your slumber and sent you shooting upright in bed, growling as you pressed your hands against your lower abdomen, where the ache had settled. 

Much to your utter dismay, Rhett was not in bed beside you. He was more than aware about your approaching heat, and he tried to spend as much time with you as he could. But that morning, his father had called him out of bed at an ungodly hour to handle an issue with an injured calf. That took him away from you, and when you discovered he was gone, you let out a pained yowl, curling into a ball. 

“Rhett!” You desperately cried out, hoping he was still nearby. But you were met with no answer. 

Groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed, and you gasped sharply, placing a hand over your mouth when you realized that your need had soaked straight through the panties you’d worn to bed. They weren’t just damp. They were drenched. 

When you stood, your knees almost buckled, and your hand shot out to steady yourself against the bedpost. “Holy fuck,” you whimpered. You had never in your life felt such a sensation. 

It was an ache so strong that there were no words to describe it. An agony that was not quite painful, but maddening nonetheless. And there was only one way to soothe it. Rhett was the only one capable of easing the burning fire. The only one who could act as a soothing salve. But he was nowhere to be found. 

How could he just leave? In your agitated state it only served to upset you all the more. He knew you were coming up on your heat. He knew you needed him. How could he leave you all alone to deal with it?

Of course, he hadn’t done it on purpose. That morning when he’d woken before the sun, he could smell you. Your scent had increased, its spicy sweetness making his head spin. But he knew how Royal would get if he refused to help his father with the issue at hand, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with the man’s contrariness. 

Leaving you in bed that morning had been incredibly difficult. But he left with the hope that this project wouldn’t take long, and he’d be back with you before you ever woke up. 

But that was four hours ago, and he was still dealing with an injured calf, a distressed mama cow, and one irritated Royal Abbott. The situation had given Rhett a distraction, but back at home, you had none. 

You swiped your phone off of your nightstand with the intent of calling him to see where he was. However, when you dialed, you were alerted to the sound of ringing coming from his own nightstand. He’d left his phone at home. 

You growled in frustration, tossing your phone onto the bed, just as another surge of molten need vibrated through you, sending you to your knees. Your body trembled, and the intensity was so great that you could feel yourself beginning to shift. 

Your claws lengthened from your fingers, ripping shreds into the side of the duvet as you held onto the mattress for support. You felt out of control, and it was a scary feeling. You hadn’t felt this way since your first full moon, and even that wasn’t comparable to how intense it was now. 

The full moon didn’t leave an agonizing ache in your cunt like this. No, this was solely the result of your body’s natural drive to mate. But how on earth were you meant to do that if the one you were mated to wasn’t even here?

Tears welled in your eyes, and you forced yourself to rage deep, ragged breaths. Maybe if you could just get to the bathroom, you could put yourself under a cold shower and hopefully snap yourself out of this feverish state. 

You stood on unsteady legs and stumbled toward the steps, which you rushed down until you made it to the main floor area below the loft. You burst into the bathroom and immediately turned on the shower to a cold spray, stripping out of your shirt and panties and jumping in. 

You hissed as the chilly water enveloped you, cascading down your heated skin. It provided a small amount of relief, but it didn’t take the discomfort away completely. 

You knew that you couldn’t relieve the ache yourself, but that didn’t stop you from trying. You reached a trembling hand between your thighs, running your fingers over your center, your legs nearly giving out as you brushed against your swollen, thrumming clit. 

You let out a sharp whimper and jolted forward. You tried to soothe your need to be filled by using your fingers, but they were nothing compared to Rhett. His fingers, his cock. They didn’t reach that spot inside you that made you see stars. You were left feeling unsatisfied and even needier than before. 

In frustration, you leaned back against the shower walls squeezing your eyes shut and trying to steady your breathing. You imagined this was how wolves felt in the wild. You hardly felt like you could exercise your human control anymore. You’d heard of werewolves shifting permanently into their wolf bodies and giving in to their wild nature. It didn’t seem that far-fetched that it could happen to you. 

In the midst of your plight, Rhett had just looked at the sky and realized that the sun’s placement must mean it was nearly 10 o’clock in the morning. His eyes widened. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed since he’d left early that morning, but it had been almost five hours. He knew you were awake by now, and probably desperate as all get out. 

He patted his jeans for his phone, but found his pockets empty. And then he remembered, he’d accidentally left it behind that morning. “Shit,” he cursed. He snatched up his Carhartt jacket that he had draped over one of the stall doors. “Dad, I gotta go,” he called out to his father.

“Hang on,” Royal replied, but Rhett shook his head, already halfway out the barn door.

“M’ wife needs me, I gotta get back. Ask Per for help if you need it.” And then he was gone, scrambling out into the cool October morning. His mind was spinning as he pictured you home alone. You were likely at your wit's end. 

Sure enough, when he finally made it to the house, it was your scent that nearly knocked him flat on his ass as he walked through the door. He grunted as if he’d been kicked in the gut, stumbling back against the wooden door. 

His every sense was overwhelmed by you. Deep, spicy, sweet. Irresistible and divine, all at once. His heart rate began to quicken in his chest, and he gasped as he straightened, hastily kicking his boots off by the door. “Little wolf?!” He called out.

At the sound of his voice, a sob of relief tore from you. You had just climbed out of your cold shower, towel wrapped around your body. “Rhett!” You wailed, your voice coming out as a desperate, animalistic yowl. 

He knew exactly where you were, he could hear the pounding of your heart, the shallowness of your breath. He was drawn straight to you like a moth to flame, and within seconds, he was at the bathroom door, just as you flung it open.

“Rhett!” You wailed again, throwing yourself into his arms as sobs wracked your body. “Wh-where were yo-you?! I needed you and you were gone! Why did you leave me?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby. Dad needed help and I didn’t think I’d be gone that long, but that was five fuckin’ hours ago. I’m sorry.”

You clutched at his shirt, and he gasped when he heard a rip, only to find that your claws had torn through the fabric of his flannel. “Shit, okay, hold on,” he told you, pulling you back to look fully into your face. Your skin was damp, but it wasn’t from the shower you’d just taken. You were sweaty but also hot to the touch, as if you had a high fever. 

Your eyes were glowing gold, and through your parted lips he could see your fangs. And oh, how you trembled. So much so that he had to hold you steady so you didn’t fall. “Please,” you whimpered, “it hurts so bad, please, I-I can’t take it anymore! I feel like I’m on fucking fire!”

Rhett was overwhelmed. You smelled so good, like the natural scent that had drawn him to you when you first became mates. But there was something else, something that could only be described as sex. It felt like it was altering his very brain chemistry.

Then he growled, deep and low in his throat, and pressed his nose to your neck, breathing in deep before he began trailing lower, in search of the source. He ripped your towel away from your body and nuzzled at you until he finally stopped between your thighs, pressing his nose against your cunt and inhaling. 

You gazed down at him, and his own eyes flashed yellow to match yours. Possessively, he nipped at your inner thigh. “I’m here now, little wolf,” he assured you, “I’ll take care of you.”

“Please,” you sobbed, “I can’t…I don’t know if I can…” but the words died in your throat. 

He straightened back up, leaning in to kiss you deeply as he quickly shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it aside before you reached for his belt, trying to unbuckle it, but quickly growing tearful and frustrated. He shushed you with another kiss and unbuckled the belt himself, shoving his jeans and underwear down his legs all at once, freeing his already hardening cock. 

As soon as you saw it, you mewled, dropping to your knees and rubbing your face against the velvety skin. Rhett grunted, his head spinning at the sight of you nuzzling your cheek against his dick. You were so far gone, and it was dizzying to him. 

“Need it so bad,” you whined, kitten licking the tip as the shaft hardened. “Need it so deep inside me.”

“I’m gonna give it to you, promise,” he rasped. Then he hauled you to your feet, with the intention of pulling you up to your bedroom in the loft, but you never made it. You couldn’t wait another second, and in a flurry of desperation, you grabbed onto him, tugging him hard and sending you both to the floor. 

He landed on his back as you climbed on top of him, but in true wolf fashion, he snarled, wrestling you until you were the one lying on your back on the floor. In this way, he showed his dominance over you, securing his right to be your mate.

“Gettin’ big for your britches, little wolf,” he muttered as he ran his nose over your flesh, inhaling you. You had very quickly turned to putty in his hands, especially when you felt his cock against your inner thigh.

“Need it! I need it, please! Please, please, please!” You wept, entirely forgetting your little fight for dominance that had taken place moments earlier. The ache between your legs had increased all the more. A throbbing, burning, crushing ache that made you feel like you were suffocating, as if you’d die if you didn’t become one with him in the next few seconds. 

Rhett looked down and he saw why you were so desperate. Your cunt was puffy, and with the sunlight that was streaming in through the windows, he could see how wet it was. You’d only been on the floor for a few moments but your arousal had already dripped down onto the hardwood. “Oh my god,” he whispered in amazement. 

He couldn’t contain himself if he tried. He placed his hands on the floor, at either side of your head, and nudged his hips forward. When you felt the blunt head of his cock against you, you whimpered. It burned, it burned, it burned. Until, suddenly…

“Oh!” He was inside you in one fluid motion. Every last inch of him, filling you to the brim, fitting inside you like he was created to. Because he was. You were two unique souls made perfectly for each other. 

“I’ve got ya, sweet baby. I’ve got ya,” he assured you as you whimpered and whined at the fullness. 

And suddenly, all at once, that terrible, gnawing ache began to fade. It felt like a healing salve to a grave wound. You gasped, your eyes widening as you gazed up at your husband. “Rhett,” you squeaked.

“I know.”

Tears filled your eyes as you finally felt relief for the first time that day. Those same tears began to track down the sides of your face, and you couldn’t help but let out a breathless sob. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and clung to him as he began to slowly move. 

With each push and pull of his cock within you, your body reacted accordingly, providing you with even more lubricant until he was moaning, gasping at the feeling. “Shit, darlin’, you’re dribblin’ all over me.”

“S-sorry,” you peeped, squeezing your eyes shut. “Ca-can’t help it. Feels too good. Feels…oh, feels so fucking…good…”

You threw your head back as he built a rhythm, slow at first, but the pace soon quickened. Back and forth, faster and faster, until it could only be described as rutting. You felt so fucking full, and he kept you that way, barely pulling his hips back, instead fucking you in a pulsing motion. It was too much and not enough. You started to grow desperate again. The ache was gone, but it had been replaced with molten heat, as if your insides were melting. 

“Harder, harder, harder!” You cried out.

He obliged, grunting laboriously as he drove into you harder. You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he plunged his cock into you repeatedly. The sounds escaping both of you were animalistic. Growls and snarls and hisses, the wild animals caged within you trying to claw their way to the surface. 

He was so deep inside you, every ridge and vein of his cock creating such divine friction within you that it felt like you were being burned alive in the most wonderful, indescribable way. 

Your claws dug into the tender flesh of his back, and he gnarled, snapping his teeth at you, but not in a threatening way. He nuzzled into your neck, the sharp tips of those fangs pressing against your pulse point, and you whined, leaning into the pleasurable pain. 

His teeth drew blood, and as soon as the crimson blossomed against your skin, he used his tongue to soothe over it, licking up your lifeblood. The bite mark healed quickly, as injuries normally did, but you could still feel the sting even after it was gone. 

And then, something else happened. It was common for werewolves to shift partially, where their eyes, fangs, and claws became visible. But it was also common for them to grow a little in stature, too. 

You could feel it. His muscles rippled beneath your touch, expanding. His shoulders grew broader. And something else, grew, too. When you felt it, you let out a wolfish yip, jolting against him as his cock swelled within your cunt.

“R-Rhett,” you squeaked, and he shushed you, kissing you languidly.

“You’re okay, little wolf. Feels good, don’t it?”

You managed to nod despite yourself. Your tears kept falling and they wouldn’t stop. But they weren’t tears of pain. Quite the contrary. It didn’t matter that he was growing inside you. Your body was designed to accommodate it. The feeling was incredibly pleasurable, and it sent an intense shudder through your body.

You screwed your eyes shut and mewled as he kept rutting into you, stretching you, filling you, completing you. This felt right. This felt good. This felt like the most natural thing in the world. And it was. Your bodies were joined as one. One force, one soul, one heart. 

“You feel so good,” you repeated yourself, unashamed of the tears still streaming down your cheeks. “So good, so good, so good.”

His hips quickened within you. His hands remained at either side of your head, and you could hear his claws gouging into the hardwood. He’d be pissed about that mark later, but right now, he couldn’t be bothered to care. Nothing else mattered but this. Fulfilling this natural, primal, raw desire to claim, and be claimed. 

The intensity mounted, like a kettle beginning to boil. You held onto him so tightly, encouraging him to go deeper, faster, harder. And he did, until it felt like he was fucking you into the floor. 

He leaned back to watch you, admiring the way your eyes rolled back in your head, the way you shuddered so powerfully, as if you’d just been struck with a bolt of lightning. It felt like you had, because each nudge of his cock in your slick walls sent sparks surging through your core. 

His eyes flickered further down, to the place where your bodies met. Where your cunt clasped him in a vice grip. “Takin’ me so well,” he gruffed, at which you whimpered. Then, you felt his big, warm hand splaying against your lower abdomen. “Gon’ fill you up, little wolf.”

“Please,” you squeaked. 

“Yeah?” He leaned in close, and you opened your eyes, finding golden irises gazing back at you. “Yeah? Want me to get you full of me? Take all my seed like you were made to?”

You cried out, jolting against you when he thrust forward particularly hard, sending your body vibrating with ecstasy. “Need it so bad!” You practically shrieked.

“I’ll give it all to you. Get this pretty tummy nice an’ round. Full of my pups.”

At his words, your entire world tilted on its axis. Your brain went blank with white-hot pleasure. All you knew was “yes, yes, yes!” That was what you wanted. That was what your body was begging for. To mate. To be bred. 

Rhett kissed you again, swallowing your babbled pleas. You felt as if you were not of your body. Like you were floating over yourself, watching your husband fuck you. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

Your body shook and shivered. Your eyes rolled back in your skull. You couldn’t speak. You could hardly breathe. It was immeasurable. Indescribable. You were certain you were going to pass out from the ecstasy. It surged through you from head to toe, sizzling and sparking, illuminating the very edges of your soul, sending you into orbit.

You swore you did black out for a moment. How was it possible that something could feel this good? You had experienced all-consuming pleasure before, multiple times. Rhett was a generous lover who always made you see stars when he fucked you. But this was different. This was mind-bending, soul-shattering, earth-shaking.

You didn’t realize you were repeatedly chanting his name. It left your lips like a prayer, breathlessly whispered up to the heavens. He spoke to you, but you couldn’t hear him. You were deafened by searing pleasure, ringing in your ears, rattling your very bones to their marrow. 

You barely registered his mouth at your neck again, teeth nipping into tender flesh. All you knew was that you were existing on an otherworldly plane. And then you felt it. That flame that had been burning inside you was growing. Hotter, bigger, more intense.

Rhett could feel it. You were trembling uncontrollably, body convulsing as if you’d been struck by raw electricity. Your cunt kept pulsing around him, tightening so intensely that he almost struggled to move within you. 

“Let go,” he rasped, knowing that he, too, was nearing his end. He could feel it, crackling to life at the base of his spine, thrumming within his heavy, aching balls. He was driven by his need to fill you with his very essence. 

“I-I’m c-co-” but you couldn’t speak. The words wouldn’t come. They were impossible. So you simply cried and wailed beneath him, so certain you were about to burst into flames, reduced to nothing but ash.

But you didn’t burst into a fiery inferno. Instead, every nerve, every neuron, every atom of your body was consumed with something you could never, ever describe with mere mortal words. 

Your eyes went wide as you locked your gaze with Rhett’s. Mouth open, chest pressing into his as you jerked forward. And then it hit you. Hard, deep, stretching over every inch of your body. You let out a carnal howl, which surely echoed for miles outside of your home. 

You fell apart around your husband’s cock, keening, sobbing, consumed by blazing euphoria. You felt as if you were part of the universe, an explosion of blazing stars, scattered brilliantly across the universe in a blinding, breathtaking array.

You thought it would end, but it didn’t. Your eyes flew open when you realized you were still coming. “Rhett!” You shrieked. “I-I c-ca-can’t stop!”

His mouth fell open as he gasped sharply, grunting as your body continued to undulate beneath him. But he couldn’t reply, for suddenly, he was overcome. His own release rushed through him in an overwhelming surge, and his grunt turned into a yowl. The heat of his release flooded the very core of your being, filling you until it spilled out around the edges of his cock, dripping down to the floor beneath you.

It took what felt like an eternity for you both to come back to yourselves. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but once Rhett regained feeling in his extremities, he gingerly lifted himself from where his body had fallen against your own.

His eyes were back to their familiar human blue, so brilliant and comforting all at once. His face was soft with concern, and he lifted his hand to gently stroke your tear-dampened cheek. “Y’ okay, little wolf?” He asked. 

You couldn’t find your voice, so you simply nodded, sniffling softly. He soothed you, leaning in close to kiss you deeply. “That was…fuck, that was a lot,” he continued on. 

“I-I know,” you whispered, barely audible. 

Gently, he eased his cock out of you, and you let out a heartbreaking cry at the emptiness. One that he soothed with another kiss. He brought his hand down between your legs, cupping your dripping cunt, soothing any pain he might’ve caused. But you weren’t in pain. Far from it. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Got a call from Dad this mornin’ about a calf that got hurt, had to go deal with that and it took all fuckin’ mornin’, and by the time I realized what time it was, it was too late. I know I shouldn't ‘ve left you all alone like that, and I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, reaching up to cup his cheek. “It’s okay. When I was crying at you about it I…I don’t think I was in my right mind. I’ve never felt like that in my entire life. Felt like I could crawl out of my own skin. Hurt so bad, I needed you somethin’ fierce. I’ve had heats before but nothing could ever compare to this.”

Rhett hummed, lifting his own hand to place over the one you’d rested on his cheek. “From now on, I ain’t leavin’ you. Don’t want you goin’ through that alone again. I’ll stay with you until it’s over.”

You nodded. “I’d like that.”

You spent a few more moments on the floor, catching your breath and processing what had just taken place. Rhett glanced at the claw marks he’d left in the hardwood and groaned in annoyance. “Next time you wanna fuck like animals, let’s do it in bed, where I can’t mess up the woodwork I broke my back tryin’ to get perfect,” he grumbled.

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Noted,” you said. 

You allowed him to help you up off the floor, and he pulled you to him, naked bodies pressed together. His gaze grew serious. “I love you, little wolf. I’m gonna take good care of you while you go through this, alright? Don’t want my darlin’ sufferin’ on my watch.”

You beamed at him and bumped your nose against his. “I know you will. You always do.”

Again, he kissed you, and then he guided you back to the bathroom from whence you’d come. There, you showered together, cleansing yourselves of your previous activities. For the time being, you were sated, and that terrible, gnawing ache was gone. What followed was this strange sort of floating feeling. Your bodies were producing special pheromones which intensified the bonding process immediately following sex. 

You felt so connected to Rhett, even more so than you ever had before. It was a little overwhelming. After your shower, you refused to part from one another. You stayed close, curling up in bed for a little rest after such an exhausting morning. Rhett lovingly wrapped you in his embrace, your still bare bodies intertwined. 

He traced patterns on your skin with his fingertips and told you all the things he loved about you. He confessed how grateful he was that you were his mate, and how he’d been lost before he met you. You spoke of your future together and what it might entail. Including the little ones you might add to your family if the Fates smiled down upon you.

You connected on an entirely new level, and it only served to knit your hearts closer together. And then, you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, cuddled in each other’s embrace.

But your body would soon wake you again, and you would be reacquainted with that all too familiar ache. This time, however, Rhett was with you. You found yourself whimpering, crying for him as you shook him awake. 

He remained perfectly calm as he soothed you, kissing you so lovingly as he arranged your body into position. Slowly, steadily, he eased himself into you again, joining your bodies as one. 

“You’re okay, little wolf. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

And you knew he would.

-

tagging (a mix of those already on my taglist/those who might be interested):

@cdauni @gothamrots @happyrebelruins @bobfloydsbabe @myfandomchangesalot @mikpieboo @petersunderoos96 @eighthwvnder @yanna-banana @bradshawsbaby @bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @basiccortez @thesluttyarchivist @rhettabbotts @milesmillergf @briseisgone @laluneveillesureux @gohnspants @bobfloyds @wkndwlff @damrlova @withahappyrefrain @michaego

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

_

_

Help I have a thot so rotten I need professional help.

Rhett is working and you rile him up - so.far so usual. At one point he snaps and ties you to a breeding stand and then proceed to mount you. All the while snarling how your going to be breed like an animal in heat when you act like one. No amount of pleading and begging will help you

￫ a/n: lemme fucking tell you something anon. i got this. read it. and was in shock for the next ten minutes. i love this so so so much it’s unhealthy 😵‍💫 welp! we’re going down!

￫ c/w: rhett using derogatory language towards the reader, comparing you to an animal in heat, rhett being mean and degrading to you, cnc, p in v, daddy kink, manhandling you, what’s in the ask is what you’re gonna get.

you’re both working in the barn through the afternoon, moving hay and other supplies, cleaning out the horses and keeping the rest of the livestock in check. the humid summer heat has past it’s highest point since midday, but you’re both still struggling through the heat. it’s unbearably hot inside your stuffy barn and understandably, you’re both agitated.

every so often when you pass by rhett, you squeeze at his bulging biceps or at his crotch that’s already supporting a semi from your heated touches. he lets out a low grumble the fifth time you pass him by and you mock pout at him.

“what is it, daddy?” you elongate the last part of your wording with a flirtatious touch and bat your eyelashes teasingly at him.

rhett’s jaw is set firm as he scowls at you. his eyebrows are knitted tightly together in frustration as he bites back at you. “quit it. you’re actin’ like a fuckin’ whore right now and it ain’t helping.”

“but, daddy—” you whine out again, but rhett is there to cut you off instantly.

“enough. fuckin’ help me finish this and maybe, i’ll be nice to y’ later.”

his tone is firm and unwavering, and you should know better than to push him, but you excuse the heat for your lack of better judgement.

“fuckin’ fine. i’m goin’ inside and finishing myself off, somethin’ you can’t do.”

that snaps the final cord of patience that rhett has inside of him for you. he’s quick to grab at your forearm with a bruising grip as you leave the barn. you yelp out and struggle against him as he manhandles you, pushing you closer to a corner of the barn. it overwhelms you how strong he can be. your thrashing is no use.

your eyes are wide when you see him dragging you closer to a breeding stand, yet you feel the inside of your stomach somersault at the prospect of what rhett is suggesting. you still go along with it however, pleading with desperation as he ties you to the breeding stand.

“r-rhett? what are you fuckin’ doin’?!” you land with a final thud as rhett pushes your neck down to rest on the head stand that would be used for animals. you’re bent over and on all fours, with your feet teetering and scraping along the hay covered floor. your dress is flipped over your ass and you feel rhett’s hot and calloused fingers hook inside your underwear and tear them completely from your frame.

“if you’re gon’ act like an animal in heat,” rhett’s voice behind you is an ugly snarl, his teeth biting at one another. “i’m goin’ to be breedin’ you like an animal in heat.”

you hear his belt buckle clang against itself before a harsh smack is delivered to your exposed ass and the backs of your thighs. in reaction, you let out a cry that ends with an embarrassing moan. you hate yourself for being so incredibly aroused by this, but you don’t hate yourself for playing into his fucked up little fantasy.

his hands grip tightly at the flesh of your hips as he mounts you like an animal himself. you let out another pleading moan as you feel his tip push through your folds.

“rhett! please, please—” you’re begging and pleading with him, but you don’t know what for.

another curt smack is issued to your ass as he stuffs himself full inside of you. “animals in heat don’t get a say in this, quit your whinin’ or i’ll stuff your mouth with a horse bit.”

VIRGIN BOB HAS MY WHOLE HEART

Mission Accomplished | Bob Floyd

Masterlist | One Year TG Celebration

synopsis: It's Bob's 30th birthday and the boys set up a mission for him to conquer.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: it's porn with a dash of plot. Virginity, Oral sex (f&M receiving), unprotected sex, PIV, pet names, hair pulling, cockwarming, cursing.

“You just need to do it, no one’s gonna wanna fuck a 30-year-old virgin,” Fanboy said as he sipped his drink. 

Bob groaned and put his head in his hands. Rooster laughed and shook his head, placing his hand on his friend’s back. It was Bob’s 30th birthday, and he just wanted a quiet night and to share a few drinks with his friend. Sadly, Phoenix was out of town so Bob was left to the devices of Fanboy, Rooster, and Hangman. The conversation of his virginity always seemed to rise after Fanboy had a couple of drinks in him.

“I mean, what are you waiting for?” Fanboy asked.

Bob honestly didn’t know. His teenage years were spent studying chemistry, working for Old Man Leuellen, and riding bulls on the weekend. He was the quieter type, not loud and outgoing as some of the other guys he rode bulls with. They were loud and crass and caught the attention of all the girls walking by. While most of them went out after the rodeo, Bob went home with his cash envelope and gave it to his momma to help pay the electricity bill. Sure, he had his fair share of girlfriends and there were always girls hanging around after the rodeo. He’d been involved in heavy makeout sessions and dry humping, but it never went farther than that. Fanboy joked that Bob was bringing down the sex appeal of the squad because he was still a virgin. 

“The right moment, I guess,” Bob mumbled, messing with the tab of his root beer 

“That shit never fucking happens,” Hangman laughed, “That only happens in the movies. I lost mine in a barn on my family’s ranch. Rooster lost his in the back of the Bronco.” 

“I sat back there,” Bob said with a disgusted look on his face. 

“If you think that was bad. . . Fanboy, where did you lose yours?” 

“My parents’ bed,” Fanboy smirked and Bob gagged, “Hey! I changed the sheets after. Besides they had condoms in the bedside table, readily available. Robert,” Fanboy sighed and put his arm around his friend, “You turned thirty today. . . it’s time to grow up. And as your best friend and confidant, I have someone for you.” 

“I-I don’t want a. . .” Bob looked around the bar and lowered his voice, “A prostitute.” 

“We wouldn’t do that to you,” Jake shook his head, “Here, go to this hotel and this room. We’ll send her over soon.” Jake took a white business card out of his pocket. Bob looked at his three friends and took the card, running his fingers over the writing. 

“You guys have really thought about this, huh?” Bob said his heartbeat racing. 

“Do you want to do this or not? If you don’t want to, we understand,” Fanboy said to his friend. Bob took a deep breath and nodded. He trusted them with his life and knew they wouldn’t set him up or put him in a situation he didn’t want to be in. If anything, they probably already had someone in mind for Bob, “Good, we’ll text you when she’s on her way.” 

Bob nodded again and downed the rest of his drink before heading to the hotel written on the card. He shook with nerves as he walked down the street. He rolled his eyes, they really did think this shit through. Bob kept his head down as he sped walked through the lobby. He felt like everyone in the building could tell what he was about to do. He punched the button for the 24th floor and tapped his foot on the floor. He just hoped whoever they picked was nice. 

Rooster, Jake, and Fanboy had really thought everything through, even picking out the right girl to spend the night with their quiet friend. Y/N was a friend of Jake’s and worked at the Hard Deck. Jake was the one who pointed out the googly eyes Bob would get every time he saw her. Bob suddenly forgot what English was anytime she walked into the room. She was the perfect person to hook up with Bob. 

“You think she’ll do it?” Fanboy asked, as he down the rest of his drink, “I mean, she didn’t seem against it when we talked to her the other day. She’s as googly-eyed for Bob as he is for her.” 

“Hope so, otherwise, Bobby Boy is gonna spend another night using his right hand,” Jake said as he texted Y/N to meet them at the hotel, “Alright, the plan is set. She’s already there waiting for him.” 

Fanboy raised his empty glass and clinked it against Jake’s, “We should buy him a cake.” 

— — — 

Bob took a deep breath, shaking out his nervous hands as he scanned the key card to the room. When he opened it, his wide eyes scanned the room, noticing the soft lights and the music playing softly in the background. He was cursing his friends, they had already set him up and didn’t even tell him with whom. 

“You’re here,” Bob turned to look at you, sitting in a chair by the bed, a glass of Rose in your hand, “They said you left 20 minutes ago. . . did you get lost?” 

“Y/N? A-Are you lost?” Bob asked you. You smiled and set your drink down on the table, pushing yourself up from your spot, “Th-they uh. . . they didn’t mention you’d be here.” 

“I know,” You said, as you walked over to Bob. He froze slightly as your dainty hands came and touched his clothed chest, “Happy Birthday,” You whispered. He took a deep breath as you moved your hands to push his jacket off his arms. Bob opened his mouth to ask how you knew, when you answered for him, “They told me everything.”

“Oh, okay,” Bob said nervously. He jumped at the feeling of you pressing your body against his. His hands flew to your waist, “I-is this okay?” 

“You really haven’t done this before have you?” 

“I-I have j-just not with someone as p-pretty a-as you,” Bob said and cursed himself out in his mind for stuttering, “You make me nervous.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing,” You smiled and caressed his jaw. You brought your lips to ghost over his neck, your hot breath making goosebumps rise on his skin, “Relax, baby. I got you, okay?” 

“O-okay,” Bob said, as you placed a kiss on his pulse point. Bob let out a moan, as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling it softly, as you kissed up his neck to his jaw. You grabbed his jaw in your hand and made him look at you. 

“You don’t have to do this,” You said, “I know the boys are behind this, Jake seemed a bit too happy when I said yes to meeting you here. But if you don’t want to, you can tell me.” 

“I-I want to. Please, Y/N,” Bob said shyly and he innocently bucked his hips. He was painfully hard. He didn’t even know he could get that hard. He was silently begging for more, but he wanted to play it cool. As far as he knew, Y/N didn’t know he was a virgin. He wanted her to believe that. 

“Take your pants off.” You said. 

You smiled and kissed his lips. Bob pulled your body into him more and walked you over to the bed. This part he had done before. He pushed you onto the bed, and you smirked at him. You climbed back on the bed as Bob got on top of you, attaching your lips together again. One of your hands found his jaw and the other tangled back in his hair. You loved Bob’s hair and he clearly loved having you pull on it. Bob grinded his hips into yours and you moaned at the feeling of his hard-on grinding against your core. 

His lips went from yours to your jaw, kissing and biting softly. The dress you were wearing was low cut, giving Bob the perfect view of the tops of your breasts. He left kisses on your collarbone before kissing the top of your cleavage. His large rough hands were warm against your thighs, as he grabbed your leg and hitched it over his lip, so he grinds into you more. 

“Oh fuck, Bobby,” You moaned. 

“I want to make you feel good,” He whispered against your skin. 

“Another time,” You said, “I’m here to make you feel good.” 

You pushed Bob off of you and scurried out from beneath him. He shuffled so he was laying in the middle of the bed. You stood at the foot of the bed and shed your dress. Bob sucked in a breath seeing your naked body. You climbed back on top of him and kissed him again. His shaky hands went to your hips and lightly guided you to grind on his cock. You grabbed his wrists and gently pinned them above his head. Your lips went back to his, as you took control. You moved your hips slowly, feeling the growing wet spot in his boxers. Bob withered under you as you kissed your way down his jaw. Your hands went to his t-shirt and slowly pulled it up over his head and off his body. 

“W-wait! I-I’m a virgin,” Bob said and felt his face get hot with embarrassment. 

“I know,” You responded. 

“H-how?” 

“Cause you look ready to cum and I haven’t even done anything. . . And Fanboy told me.”

“Oh,” He blushed. 

You smirked and placed a soft kiss on his lips, “We don’t have to do this. I am perfectly okay with making out and ordering some cake via room service.” 

“I want to do this,” Bob assured you, grabbing both of your hands in his, “I trust you.” 

You nodded and leaned in to kiss him again. Your hands went to the bottom of his shirt, tugging on it. He got the hint and sat up to shuck it off. Bob was beautiful. His tall slender frame was always the perfect sun-kissed tan color. You kissed down his chest, swirling your tongue over his nipples as you worked your way down his body. The moan Bob let out as you delivered a kiss to his clothed dick was absolutely pornographic. 

“I’ve barely touched you,” You smirked. 

“I know,” Bob said breathlessly. He already looked fucked out and you hadn’t done anything besides grind and make out, “Touch me? Please?” 

“Anything for you baby boy,” You said and placed a kiss right above the waistband of his boxers. You dragged them down his legs slowly, watching as his dick slapped against his stomach, rock hard and red. A small drop of pre-cum fell from the tip, which you licked up. Bob thought he was going to cum just at the sight of you in between his legs. 

“Oh. . . fucking shit, oh my god, oh my god,” Bob mumbled as you placed a kiss right on the tip. He was squirming around and about lost it when you licked from his balls to the tip, “Please. . . please, please, please.” 

“Bob shut up.” You demanded and he bit his lip nodding. You spit on his dick, before slowly taking him in his mouth. 

“Oh fuck,” Bob moaned loudly, flopping his head back against the pillows. You lowkey felt bad for who was next door, because Bob was loud. His hand went to your hair, not entirely sure what to do, he held it softly out of your face. You took as much of him in your mouth as you could, relaxing your throat to take him in deep. You bobbed your head up and down, using your hand for whatever didn’t fit. Bob guided your motions lightly, but couldn’t help but thrust into your mouth. 

Bob couldn’t focus on anything but the bliss he was feeling. He couldn’t stop the moans that left his mouth. He was thankful that no one he knew was nearby or could hear the noises Bob was making, he’d never live it down. But to you, it was like music. You swallowed around him and Bob’s thighs started to shake, the grip on your hair tightening. 

“Y/N, I think, oh my god, oh my god,” Bob started saying as you pulled off of him, “What?” He looked like you just told him you killed a dog, “I-I. . . what?” 

“I want you to cum inside me,” You whispered against his lips, kissing him. You gently climbed into his lap. 

“W-what about you?” Bob asked, “Are y-you w-wet?” 

“I’ve been dripping since the moment you walked through the door,” You ran a finger through your folds, collecting your slick on your finger, “Open,” Bob’s jaw opened and you stuck your finger in his mouth. He moaned at the taste of you on his tongue. 

“C-can I t-taste you?” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I want to- no, I need to,” Bob said and you nodded, “Lay down, sweetheart.” 

You nodded and rolled over to switch places with Bob. You lay down and opened your legs as Bob crawled between them. You could see the blush on his face, as he placed a kiss on your thigh. You moaned as he placed another kiss right on your clit. Your moans were his encouragement as he licked your entrance. 

“Use your fingers too, baby,” You encouraged. 

Bob nodded and lifted his hand up to you. You sucked his fingers into your mouth, getting them wet. Bob took his hand away and ran his pointer finger up your folds before gently pushing it into your core. You threw your head back as he pumped his finger in and out of you gently. His tongue went to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and licking it. Your hand pulled on his hair, pulling him closer to you. Your legs went over his shoulders as he laid down flat to grind his own hips into the mattress to get some kind of friction. 

“More, Bob, add another finger,” You said and Bob did as told, “God, you listen so well. Do you want to make me cum? Keep going, just like that. . .” 

You couldn’t help but grind against his face. Bob moaned at the feeling as he was eating you out like it was his last meal. His fingers curled up against your g-spot and you let out an encouragement for him to keep doing that. He felt you clench around his fingers and didn’t stop moving them and sucking on your clit until he felt your release. He looked up at you with wide eyes as your head was thrown back, you riding out your high. Bob placed a soft kiss on your thigh as he slowly pulled away from you, his mouth and jaw glistening with your release. 

“Lay back down,” You said, your eyes darker with lust, “I’m gonna ride you.” 

Bob nodded silently, flopping down next to you. He made grabby hands towards you as you climbed on top of him. You spit on his dick and pumped him a couple of times, before holding it at your entrance. Bob let out a low groan as you sunk down on him, filling you up to the brim. 

“Oh Jesus, Bobby, you fill me up so fucking well,” You said as you started to move up and down slowly. You grabbed Bob’s hands and pinned them above his head. You rode him slowly, taking your time to watch Bob’s face contorted in pleasure. 

“Y/N. . .” He breathed out, “I-I’m n-not going to last.” 

“That’s okay, baby,” You whispered, kissing right below his ear, “Tell me how it feels?”

“So fucking good,” He shuddered. The feeling was nothing compared to Bob using his hand or pocketpussy. You were tight and warm, and Bob wanted to soak up everything felt. The pleasure was clouding his mind as he thrust up into you. He broke free from your grip, to wrap his arms around you and thrust up into you. You moaned at the feeling as Bob was chasing his own release. His vision was going white as he held back a moan in his throat. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna cum!” He whined. You pushed his arms down, taking back over, keeping the pace he had set. The loud cry of pure pleasure that broke through his lips was pure music. He was like a masterpiece, arching off the bed as he came in you. You moved your hips up and down, milking his orgasm. He shuddered with every movement, already feeling sensitive, “Baby. . . I-I can’t.” 

“Overstimulated, Bobby?” You smirked, still moving your hips. He grabbed your hips, causing you to still. He was breathing hard and nodded shyly. He sat up so he was chest to chest with you, and wrapped his arms around you again, “You did so good for me.” 

“I-I like being in you,” Bob whispered, “Feels good.” 

“I like the feeling of you in me too,” You said back, placing a kiss on his lips, “Do you want to take a bath or a shower?” 

“Can we just cuddle?” Bob asked you softly. 

“Yeah, we can do that,” You answered, “I gotta clean up first, okay.” 

He nodded and laid back gently. You slowly lifted off of him, and he groaned at both the feeling of overstimulation and the loss of heat from you. You grabbed Bob’s t-shirt as you walked into the bathroom to put it on. You did your usual after-sex routine and washed your hands. You sighed at the sight in front of you when you walked back out. 

Bob had put his boxers on and curled up on the mattress, snoring softly. You smiled and climbed into bed next to him. You were ultimately stuck as the big spoon and wrapped your arms the best you could around his giant frame. You could feel him relax into your touch and you smiled. You easily drifted off to sleep in his warm embrace. 

— — — 

“Be quiet,” Jake hushed his fellow aviators the next morning. They hadn’t heard from you or Bob the whole night, so they were praying they didn’t just waste fifteen bucks on a cake and frosting for nothing.

“What if they didn’t even do anything?” Rooster asked him. 

“Then we smash the cake in his face,” Fanboy said, pulling an extra key card out of his pocket, “They totally did something, there’s no way they didn’t.” 

“He did say he was waiting for the right moment,” Rooster shrugged and Jake rolled his eyes unlocking the door. Fanboy’s words were quickly proven to be false as they were both greeted by the sight of Bob having you on all fours as he fucked you from behind. 

“Oh my god! I told you!” Fanboy yelled, a smirk on his face. Bob froze and looked up at the door. You groaned and grabbed a pillow, chucking it at his friends. 

“Get out!” You yelled. 

“Congrats!” Rooster said, putting the cake on the table and quickly pushing the other two out the door. The door slammed shut behind them and they all looked at each other and high-fived. 

Mission accomplished.

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I want to push Bob’s glasses up his nose while I ride him that’s all

ok now that everyone apparently agreed in completely ignoring that THAT happened, i have to admit that episode 8 eddie made me horny af

having the most vile thoughts about bob + needy fucking + breeding kink

- 🪷

nsfw!

bob wants nothing more than to have a baby with you. literally all he can think about while he’s at work—that he really has tried to stop doing because he can’t keep popping a semi in front of phoenix—is how that day is going to be the day.

he would be laser focused on it. the second he gets home.

he would press himself up against you in the kitchen, half-pinning you to the island from behind as he brushes your hair out of the way to press a chaste kiss against the nape of your neck.

“how was work?” you would ask, knowing it was just a formality at this point with the way his dick was throbbing against you.

“fine, baby,” he hums as he fiddles with the elastic waistband of your shorts. as bad as he wants you, he’s not one to touch without explicit permission.

“straight to business then, i assume,” it’s light, the way it falls from your lips. and bob barely even hears it before he’s running off at the mouth again.

“please please please, sweetheart. wanna give you a baby so bad,” he whines.

“okay, bobby,” you reach one hand up to run your hand through his hair, despite the odd angle of where he’s dug his face into your neck.

you can hear him practically whimper at the admission, hands curling around your bottoms to tug them down your legs. he’s quick to pull them all the way down until they’re pooled around your ankles, giving himself enough time to undo his belt as you step out of the garment.

“gonna put a baby in you, sweetheart. gonna make you a momma real soon,” he hums as he lines himself up with your entrance.

he’s always been a little needier than other guys you’d been with. a little more eager. but ever since you’d started actively trying to have a kid. good lord, you could barely get him off you. not that you were really complaining, though, either.

“oh, bob. please,” it’s almost a gasp the way it slips off your tongue. the stretch of him still heady despite having been in the same position this morning.

“i got you,” he coos. “always got you.”