#fem reader insert

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Neville Longbottom was an enigma. Somewhere—between his dark, wild curls and sprawling legs—you knew he had it in him to make simple conversation with you. But, for whatever reason, he was reserved, if not completely silent. Especially when serious topics popped up.

It wasn’t like he didn’t do that with everyone, because he most certainly did. Nev was an extremely shy guy, but you would have hoped that after years of friendship, he’d do a little better.

Sure, he chatted with you about the things you both loved—herbology, butterbeer, etc., but when you started to talk about other things, he was down for the count. He didn’t want to talk about your love life, your friends’ love lives, and he absolutely did not want to talk about whether or not he had his eye on anyone. You’d asked him that question about a dozen times this year alone, and every time he’d managed to stumble his way through a half-hearted explanation. He was focused on school. 

You never expected an answer when you did ask; you just harbored a little hope each time. So, when you asked him this time over dinner at the Three Broomsticks, you were surprised when he actually paused to think. 

You continued to eat and kept your eyes away from him so as not to scare him off. Any quick moves, he might not answer your question. Having a conversation with him was occasionally reminiscent of backing a frail dog into a corner.

Finally, he spoke. “It wouldn’t really matter if I did, you know?”

“What do you mean? Of course it would matter,” you responded, chewing at your meal. 

“It wouldn’t—it’s not like she’d ever like me back, so what’s the point of telling?” He shrugged. 

“Neville! That’s ridiculous. No one gets anywhere by assuming things. You don’t know she doesn’t reciprocate, so why not give it a shot?”

“Because the likelihood she’d ever say yes is extremely low, plus it’d be mortifying if I asked. So, why try?” He returned casually to his food like he hadn’t just said one of the most depressing things you’d heard all year. 

So, from that point on, you decided to build Neville’s confidence up as much as needed to get him to talk to this girl. He refused to tell you who it was, just that she was in the same year as the two of you. He just wouldn’t say, and straight up ignored you when you tried to guess. He wouldn’t even give you a hint.

That sort of put a damper on things, because you weren’t sure how to help him interact with her if you didn’t know what she liked. In the end, though, you decided that was probably for the best, because you’d just be changing him to match her taste, instead of teaching him how to be more confident in himself. 

Nev was perfect, as is; any girl would be lucky to have him. He just had a hard time putting himself out there, but you saw him just as he was. You just had to figure out how to make him see that as well.

So, over the week following the conversation you’d had at dinner, you’d developed a few…pop quizzes for him. It wasn’t the smartest idea, but it was all you had. Plus, mama birds teach their babies to fly by pushing them out of the nest, right? You just needed to push Nev out of the nest. 

By day three of the carefully planned questions and scenarios you threw at him at random, you were about on Nev’s last nerve. 

So, when you hopped in front of him on the way to lunch, he promptly said, “No,” and kept walking. You scoffed at his behavior. This was for his own good! You turned and jogged after him. 

“Er, no, what, Nev?” You played dumb. He all but rolled his eyes before glancing down at you. 

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he asked, frowning as he continued on with his quick pace. You struggled to keep up. 

“What do you mean?”

“The questions, the discussions we’ve been having! If I were a girl, how would I want to be approached? Should What is your favorite color?’ be the first question you ask a girl you’re interested in?” He glared at you. Your eyes fell to the ground, a small blush appearing on your cheeks at being caught. 

“No matter how useless you think I am with girls—I don’t need help!” 

“Well, I don’t think you’re useless, I was just trying to—”

“No more!” he interrupted. “That girl I like is… she’s not going to say yes, so just stop trying.”

His voice trailed off, following his face into a kind of depressive corner. He sighed heavily, stopping in the center of the hallway and rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. 

Various students circled the two of you like a stone in a river. Every few moments, a shoulder bumped yours or his, and slightly edged you closer. 

“I’m not trying to…I don’t want to hurt your feelings—” you started, barely able to meet his eyes. 

“I know you’re not, it’s just…” he sighed frustratedly, glancing off in the distance, somewhere over your head as he tried to find the words. “I’ve come to terms with her not liking me back. So, bringing it up over and over again, it—”

“Hurts,” you finished. He nodded. 

“I’m… I'm sorry, Nev. That was never my intention. I just want you to be happy.” You still struggled with eye contact, just as bad as he always did. 

“I am happy. I’m very grateful for the relationship I do have with her, and I’m not willing to sacrifice that for something more.” 

That caught your attention. You finally found the courage to look straight at him, and, this time, Neville was looking directly into your eyes. He wasn’t skipping out on eye contact, or shying away, or trying to leave. He was just staring—at you, and no one else. 

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Only a shuddering exhale that he picked up on. His eyes flickered downward to your mouth for a split second, then back up. You felt as though you couldn’t breathe. 

“Nev, what—?” Your mouth finally formed around the words enough to speak them. Though in an instant, Neville was backing up and heading the opposite way. 

Stunned, you could not move for a few moments. Your legs would not heed your brain’s urge to run after him, to demand who he was talking about. He had plenty of female friends—Ginny, Hermione, Luna... So, why did his faltering make you think he was talking about you? 

Was it selfish to think that? That he could possibly have feelings for you that surpassed the platonic ones? 

Was it selfish to want him to? Neville was your best friend. He was the closest you’d ever let anyone be. You cared about him; you wanted him to be happy, even if it was at the hands of another woman. Nev was everything.

You hadn’t ever considered the possibility of him reciprocating. Because he wouldn’t—couldn’t. 

That was the final word you came to. He didn’t reciprocate feelings because he couldn’t. That was it. You weren’t going to dwell on it any longer and give yourself false hope. That would just make it hurt all the more in the end. 

So, you’d intended to ignore it for the rest of the day. You’d intended to act completely normal, and not bring up the conversation or girls or try to match him up with anyone.

But you didn’t get the chance to make good on your intentions. You didn’t see Neville the rest of the day. 

He was absent from the remainder of your morning classes, nowhere to be found at lunch, and gone from afternoon classes. He wasn’t at dinner, either. 

And if all of that wasn’t entirely unlike him, he didn’t show up for your Hogsmeade visit. 

Every Friday since the two of you were fourteen, you’d walk down to Hogsmeade and splurge with the bit of allowance you’d been sent from your family, or his grandmother. It was never very much, but after you’d pooled it together, you were always able to obtain a good amount of sweets. Enough, at least, for the two of you to share. 

Neville hadn’t missed a Friday visit to Hogsmeade. Ever. 

His absence now moved you past generalized concern to absolute panic. Had your matchmaking shenanigans finally pushed him past his limit? Had you hurt him one time too many? 

You couldn’t let yourself dwell on the possibility of you having ruined your friendship, so you didn’t. You took a shower, slipped into bed, and tried not to think about Neville or the lack of sweets in the jar on your desk. It was maddening. 

Common sense and basic maturity told you to get up and apologize to him, but you couldn’t help but feel like that’d just make matters worse. You just wanted him to be here, and for everything to be normal. But it wasn’t, and it sucked, and you couldn’t convince yourself to do anything about it. 

So you went to sleep and dreamt of Neville the entire night. 

When you woke, it was a dreary Saturday. One that usually would be comforting thanks to its easy sky and cool breeze, but it wasn’t. It was instead threatening, like some sort of impending doom lingering overhead. 

Thought that may have just been the whole Neville situation turning a perfectly decent day into shit, like some kind of spoiled tea. 

Nev wasn’t at breakfast. He wasn’t at lunch. He wasn’t in the library or the owlery. No one had seen him head down to Hogsmeade. He was nowhere. It was fucking agonizing. 

You didn’t know what to do other than dwell on it until the pale gray light of the day had started to fade. The thought of checking the greenhouse—Neville’s favorite place on earth—didn’t even cross your mind until night was looming at the edge of the sky. You could have smacked yourself for being so stupid. 

All of this moping and wondering where he might be, and you hadn’t even had the wherewithal to check the one place he most certainly was. And you called yourself his friend. Idiot.

There was the concern that Nev just didn’t want to talk to you right now. Why else would he be avoiding you? But all desire to grant him his peace faded away when the day’s light now only lingered at the tip of the mountains. You couldn’t handle a third day away from him. It felt like being without food or water. His friendship was as important to you as sustenance.

Determinedly—and ignoring all common sense telling you to just leave him the hell alone—you pulled a jacket over your shoulders and slipped out of your dorm. 

If he didn’t want to talk or to see you, that was fine. You just wanted to hear it from him. For all you knew, he could be waiting for you to find him, and wondering why you hadn’t already. He could be thinking you were ignoring him. The thought made you nervous. 

You never wanted him to think you were capable of doing that. He was your best friend, and you’d never leave him when he needed you. You just hoped he wasn’t doing that exact thing to you. Then again, he was probably just looking for some peace. You were probably just overanalyzing it.

Merlin, you thought too much. 

You pushed through a set of doors that led out into one of the many breezeways around the castle. The greenhouses sat on the northern side of the castle, hidden in the shadow of the looming stone walls. The flora and fauna within never wilted, though. It didn’t matter how much sun they got; they were always thriving. 

You knew it was partially due to the great care the staff and students took in tending to the plants, as well as the immaculate gift that was magic. But you couldn’t help but imagine that it was Neville, in all of his herbological prodigy, solely keeping them alive. 

The thought made you smile fondly. 

A light evening breeze curled around the collar of your jacket. Whispers of chills scattered down your arms at the sudden change in temperature. Surely, Hogwarts wasn’t expected to get this cool so soon. It was barely even the edge of autumn, and yet, the wind had a bite to it more associated with October. 

You crossed your arms over your chest and started down the stone path that held the greenhouses at its end. If Neville wasn’t here, you’d genuinely start considering reporting him as missing to the Headmaster. 

That thought didn’t go far, though, as you rounded the last cornered wall of the castle. At the bottom of the slight hill sat the biggest greenhouse, inside of which a small, warm candle was flickering lazily. The glass was frosted, but you could see the blurred edges of someone moving inside. It didn’t take much for you to tell it was Nev. You could recognize him anywhere, in any form. Subconsciously, a small smile spread across your lips. 

You knew it was him. His smudged silhouette worked idly. It appeared as though he were repotting a plant. 

The wind whistled gently, whispering along your jacket again. You moved toward the greenhouse, craving its warmth, before the chill bumps came back. 

The glass door was warm to the touch. It regulated your body temperature almost instantly, even just from the caress of your fingertips. 

The door whined slightly as you pulled it open. The damp heat from the interior slid beneath your clothes, sending a rough shudder across your entire body. 

At the sound, Nev turned and faced you. A familiar smile spread across his face. 

Well, at least he wasn’t disappointed to see you. “Hey, Nev.”

“Hello,” he responded, glancing back at the tools in his hands. “What are you doing out so late?”

“Looking for you, of course.” You stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind you. Nev returned to his work, but you did not miss the way his eyes flickered back over to you every few moments. You wanted to ask what he was working on, what he was doing out so late, what his plans for the rest of the weekend were. Anything that wasn’t what you were dying to ask. 

It didn’t exactly play out the way you wanted it to, though. Stupidly, your mouth opened, and words spilled out faster than you could stop them. “Where have you been?”

His hands stopped. His back was to you, and you could no longer see if his eyes were glancing your way or not. 

You swallowed thickly, unsure if you’d angered him or not. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, unable to look you in the eye. “I’ve just been—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you interrupted, arms still crossed tightly. You inched closer to him. “I just missed you, that was all.”

“I…,” he exhaled shakily. He set his tools down gently against one of the wooden counters lining the greenhouse. One at a time, he eased the work gloves off his hands and set them down as well. The tension and silence made you nervous. You couldn’t tell if he was mad or not.

You should have just made empty conversation. You should have waited longer to bring up the last few days. You were stupid. 

“I’m sorry I brought it back up,” you sighed, glancing down at your shoes. “I just wanted to help. I didn’t intend to hurt you. And I never want to push you away. You’re my best friend, Nev. I don’t like it when you’re not around. The last two days have been…”

“I know,” he said, still not turning around. “I–I didn’t mean to disappear like that. I just…I needed a little bit of time to deal with it. I know you were just trying to help, but it kept it in my head nonstop.”

“The girl thing?”

He nodded. “I couldn’t think about it anymore. I was spinning in circles. I just needed a minute, plus I was embarrassed I’d shouted at you like that.”

“Nev,” you laughed easily. “That was not shouting. You were setting a boundary, and that’s perfectly alright.”

“It’s the closest I’d ever come to shouting at you, and it was virtually no better,” he retorted. 

“Well, I’m alright. I’m not going to break—”

“I never said you were,” he interrupted, finally turning to face you. The dim light did not disguise the glance down his dark eyes took. “I… It’s just–you—”

Suddenly, with his eyes on yours, it was as if he could not speak. Facing the wall had given him some form of confidence that facing you had drained. He could hardly look at you. His lips parted and then closed about a dozen times before he sighed frustratedly. 

“I’m sorry, I just—” he cut himself off. A hand came up to massage his forehead. He was so annoyed with himself. You could see it in the hard set of his jaw. It was the same expression he gave when he’d misremembered a fact and answered a question incorrectly in class, only this one was paired with a reddened flush on his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” you responded. “What is it?” You stepped even closer and eased a hand onto his forearm.

He jerked away as if you’d burned him. Your fingers stuttered in mid-air. “Nev, I—”

“I’m sorry!” he cut you off, turning back toward the table. His fingers rose and slid into his dark curls. The knuckles curved around each strand, pulling frustratedly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s this…this fucking crush!”

You almost let a gasp slip out. Nev rarely cursed. Whoever this girl was had him all the way messed up. And, even though you’d come to apologize for continually bringing her up, you still desperately wanted to know who she was. 

In the middle of lying around in complete boredom without him for the last two days, you’d reevaluated every interaction you could recall between him and the girls in your friend group. 

There was maybe one time with Luna that had stood out, but other than that, you didn’t really come to any kind of conclusion. At least, not one that made any sense. 

He and Hermione got along well, but you could tell she got a bit exhausted with his shyness from time to time. Their levels of intelligence matched closely, but it didn’t fit. 

Ginny seemed a bit too much for him. She was strong, and confident, and athletic, and…everything he wasn’t. Of course, you’d considered that maybe the whole ‘opposites attract’ thing had some truth to it. But, in the end, you’d decided that he and Ginny rarely interacted, and in the times they did, not much was said. 

And then, there was the thing with Luna. She had a deep, whimsical love for all creatures. That included some of the amazing plants that Nev was very comfortable working with. And so, they’d pick each other’s brains and compare experiences with some plant that tasted exactly like pink sugar, but would render you paralyzed for twelve hours. 

And that was it. That was all that came to mind. Nothing else was likely. Nobody else was likely. 

“Alright, Nev,” you started, hands out gently as if you were trying to comfort a wild animal. “I understand why that’s frustrating. That’s why I wanted to help. That’s why I pushed so hard. It’s just… If you’d just tell me who she is, I can help you through this.”

Suddenly, his hands fell away from his hair, and he turned back around. His eyes were shockingly wide, his dark irises glinting in the candlelight like a deep obsidian. When his lips parted, you assumed he was going to tell you off again; to demand that you never mention any girls to him ever again. But, he didn’t. Instead, a roaring laugh fell from his mouth. Despite its small interior, the sound somehow echoed in the greenhouse. It invoked a different set of chills. Different from the ones you’d felt outside. 

That one laugh was somehow louder than any words he’d spoken in the last three years. Nev had always been quiet and shy. He spoke lowly. He kept his eyes down, and his body rendered small. And yet, his eyes were locked on yours, and his laugh was deafening. 

“You are one of the smartest girls in class,” he scoffed. “I thought you’d have figured it out by now.” 

He was almost mocking. It made your chest clench uncomfortably. Neville had never talked to you like this, like you were something silly and small. It was maddening. 

“I’ve asked you to tell me ten thousand times,” you pushed. Anger rose into your cheeks. “Don’t comment on my intelligence because I haven’t found the time to guess who your stupid crush is.” It was mean. You were being mean. You winced.

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it the way that I did. I just–I can’t possibly see how you haven’t felt it yet.”

Your lips parted, then hesitated. His eyes flickered back to the ground. That moment of confidence that had bloomed in him enough for his outburst seemed to have melted like ice in the heat of the greenhouse. “Felt what?”

He did not look at you, but he didn’t hesitate. He spoke openly, freely, and with a surprisingly steady voice. He was no longer frustrated. It was more like he was defeated. “All of it. The looks, the anxiety, the accidental touches, the tension…”

“Maybe I don’t pay as much attention to you as you think,” you joked lightly. He chuckled once, but he did not smile. 

“Yeah, I guess not,” he all but whispered.

Another long beat of silence. 

The small smile pulled from your joke melted from your lips. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t laughing. There was no anger, no sadness; it was that same look of defeat. 

“Nev,” you breathed. “Can you please just tell me what’s going on? I want to help.”

“I just don’t see how you didn’t feel all of it.”

You sighed. “I’m sorry. I just haven’t. You know me, I can get scatterbrained. Sometimes, I don’t notice these kinds of things. If you’d just tell me who she is, I can help you—”

“It just doesn’t make sense, considering all of it was for you,” he interrupted. His eyes finally came back up to yours. Once again, they glittered endlessly, reflecting the candle’s flame. This time, though, they seemed unwavering. They did not glance around nervously or flicker back down to his feet. They just stared at you. 

“What?” was all you could force out. It was hardly even a word. It lingered somewhere between an exhale and a choke, and in the middle of all of it was the smallest squeak of your voice. 

“I never thought there was any chance that you didn’t feel all of it. How could something be so empty on one side, but absolutely suffocating on the other?” His shoulders rose and fell rapidly. His breaths angled his entire body backward, as if your presence was forcing him against the wall. “I’ve always wanted you, and you don’t—” he laughed once more— “you don’t pay that much attention to me.”

You were at a loss for words. Nothing would come forward. You only stared. If it was even possible, his blush became even darker. 

Once his words were out, his eyes fell back to the floor.

“No,” you all but gasped out. He looked back up at you, half-expecting you to have hurt yourself with the urgency with which you’d just spoken. “Please don’t, ah, don’t look away.”

His eyebrows furrowed gently, trying to decipher your meaning. 

“I hate it when you look away,” you whispered. “I want to see your eyes.”

His lips parted once more, and some of the tension knitted into his face released. He was utterly taken aback. “Do you—?”

“Don’t speak,” you interrupted. “I think talking about it will only confuse us.”

“So, what should we do?” he asked. He seemed at a loss, which was interesting considering he’d just claimed that your intelligence should have aided you more sufficiently than it did. 

“Don’t speak,” you repeated. Before you could trivialize it or chicken out, you closed the gap between the two of you. In the dark, wet heat of the greenhouse, you pressed your lips inexpertly to Neville’s. 

His hands, which had been clamped awkwardly behind his back, appeared at either side of your cheeks in less than a second. He acted before any context could be granted. Even if he didn’t think it was a good idea to rush into anything or to do something that could destroy your friendship, his body acted on its own. 

Nothing about him could ever deny you. All logic bled from his bones when your lips touched his. He gasped against your mouth as if he’d resurfaced from deep waters. 

From what you knew of him, Neville had never kissed anyone except for once during a game of Spin the Bottle. And yet, his mouth moved in a way that was entirely intoxicating. Perhaps it was just because it was he who kissed you, but you couldn’t help but feel like he had something figured out about kissing that no one else did. 

His body leaned into you as if trying to combine you into him. His tall, thick frame pushed you back against the wooden counter. Your ass pressed against its edge, separating your lips with a gasp that slipped between the two of you.

“Sorry,” he panted, his lips caressing against yours. He gave you enough space to breathe, to speak, if you needed to, but he could not bring himself to not touch you. His nose brushed yours, his mouth caressed yours, his heavy breaths fanned across your cheeks. 

“It’s okay,” you giggled breathlessly. “I want it, the… the counter against my back.”

“You—” He glanced down briefly, trying to understand. Your tongue poked out from your panting mouth and gently traced a section of his bottom lip. 

A shaky whimper fell away from him. Subconsciously, almost like a knee-jerk reaction, his hips pressed against your front. Through his trousers, you could feel his core pushed against you. He was completely hardened and bigger than you’d ever experienced before. This could be told even without seeing it. 

You gasped softly as he rolled his hips into your thigh. His face fell pathetically down to your shoulder, his lips and nose fitting smoothly into the crook of your neck. 

“Can’t,” he sighed against your flesh. 

“What? What is it?” you asked. Your hand slipped around his back, the tips of your fingers slipping beneath the curve of his belt and hanging on tight.  

“I want to make you feel good,” he panted. His lips brushed against your neck, his tongue darting out gently. He sighed shakily at your taste. “But, I can’t…I won’t last. Your scent’s going to do me in.” A small, embarrassed laugh slipped from him. 

“It’s alright, Nev,” you giggled a bit. “I want it. I want you to make yourself feel good.”

“What do you want me to do? I’ll do anything.” He finally pulled back and looked you in the eye once more. 

“What do you want? I want you to come undone on me. Please.”

Your hands smoothed up his chest, then around the bare skin of his neck. His eyes curved upward. He shuddered. “D-Don’t talk like that.”

“Like what?” you whispered, smirking easily. “Dirty?”

He nodded pathetically, his hips once again grinding against you. 

Your hands stopped their wandering at his jawline. One slipped to the back of his head and clutched their fingers within his curls, just as he’d done earlier. Your fingernails scratched gently over his scalp. He moaned aloud. 

Your other hand stopped against his neck, your thumb lying simply across the length of his throat. Every breath, every sound reverberated against your skin. It plucked some kind of string within you, feeling him in this way. So completely vulnerable, with him giving it so willingly. You could have done anything to him at this moment. 

Smirking, you leaned forward and slid the tip of your tongue up the length of his neck. His eyes rolled backward once more, and his legs all but gave out beneath him. He caught himself against the counter, pinning you effectively against it. 

His knees remained weakened as he let you devour him. He didn’t stop you or protest or change anything. He just felt you against him, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. His hips slid along the edge of your thigh, never once halting. It was as if he couldn’t control it. 

“I don’t think we need to decide what to do,” you whispered against his ear, tongue curving up the outside of it. “I think you want to come in your jeans right here, just like this.”

His breath shook, your hair fluttering against the force. Your hands held him steady, one continuing to control the location of his head, the other helping guide his hips against you. 

“Do you want that?” you cooed. He nodded immediately, wrapping a single arm around your waist. He clung so tightly to you that the friction of his clothing against his cock was beginning to burn. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. 

It was the most delicious sensation he’d ever felt. It was addictive heat against him, and your lips, your words, they were sinful. He doubted he’d even make it far enough to get his pants off. He just hoped you were still willing to stick around after he came in a couple of minutes. He was pathetic.

“P-Please,” he gasped. You tugged the loose collar of his flannel shirt to the side. Your lips locked around his freckled flesh, sucking a dark bruise around the brunt of his collarbone. 

At this, his other arm wrapped around your waist as well. Now, he held onto nothing but you, humping against you like a dog in rut. 

You dropped your hand from his head and mirrored the other’s position against his belt. Your fingers curled around the leather, gaining a solid grip of control on his body’s ministrations. The way your lips wrapped around his chest did not halt as you helped him roll his hips along your thigh. 

With a stunted breath, you tensed your leg and raised it higher. The sensation only increased for Nev, whose movements only quickened. His head fell backward, lolling loosely on his shoulders. 

“That’s it. Ride it out this time,” you said. “Next time, I’ll suck you off.”

The prospect of there even being a next time was what pushed him over the edge. He came in his pants, harder than he’d done in his entire life. His desperately pumping fist, or humping pillows while his dormmates were asleep, had never given him even half of the feeling you’d just granted him. And you’d hardly even touched him. 

When he had completely finished, his body fell forward, slumping exhaustedly against you. His head fell back to your shoulder, the ends of his curls damp with sweat against your skin. Lingering moans pushed through his panting breaths every so often as aftershocks hit. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled, pressing a shy kiss to your jaw. “I should have told you sooner.”

You leaned backward, catching his eyes. He stared up at you, awaiting your words, whatever they may be. You could have told him to shed every article of clothing from his body, and kiss every inch of you from head to toe, and he would have. He didn’t care who saw. 

As he was well aware, you turned off every inkling of sense in his body. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying from the beginning,” you chuckled smugly, ignoring the small eyeroll he gave you. 

“Feel good to say you told me so?” he laughed against your shoulder. You couldn’t lie, it absolutely did. 

“What can I say?” you shrugged. “I tend to know what’s best.”

“And what do you think is best right now?” he asked. One of his hands rose slowly, knuckles brushing idly along the hem of your pants. You concealed the catch of your breath, not wanting to grant him the satisfaction. 

“I think it’s best if you take me back to your dorm and ask your dormmates to busy themselves elsewhere,” you smirked.

“And if they don’t?” he asked. You brushed a single curl back from his forehead, tracing a small bead of sweat down the curve of his face. 

“They’re all big boys, I’m sure a few screams of your name won’t be unfamiliar to them.”

“Uh, it definitely would be,” he chuckled softly. “I might not even be any good. This’d be my first time.”

“I know what’s best, remember? Don’t make me say I told you so again, baby.” You pressed your lips to his once more before turning toward the door to leave. There was no need to check and see if he was coming; you already knew he was right at your heels, already chasing that high once again.  ---

“Get you hands off me, oh my god why are your fingers so cold? Your hands are usually warm! Stop it!” You bat at Cassie’s hands as she tries to get your temp. You had been practically lifted off your feet to get into the room in the first place. You had a shift in five minutes, and your friendly doctor McKay wasn’t letting you out until you had a clean bill of health. Her hands had already reached out to do the forehead and gentle hand temp check, and you were burning up. 

“Behave, don’t make me use the rectal thermometer, doctor.” The older, gorgeous doctor threatened, and she meant it. You were behaving worse than her son when he was ill. Harrison had texted his mother, warning her of your sick status. While Cassie had been worried, seeing you like that had her full blown over protective crazy mama vibes.

“It’s just a case of the spring flu,” you reason but your pushed back onto the bed. You don’t have the strength to fight her, had she been working out? 

The hospital lights offend you, making you squint up at the doctors form. Cassie takes your glasses off your nose and pockets them. You try to get them back but she’s faster, mad mom skills and all.

“Maybe, but I gave you your flu shot, though so I’m going to be thorough,” McKay tells you moving her stethoscope as Dana comes in with her little lamb. Emma's smile falters when she sees how pale you look.

“No, I don’t want to be a teaching hospital today.” You say rudely, and Dana narrows her eyes at you.

“Don’t listen to her, Doctors make the absolute worst patients. But as grumpy as she appears, she’s my favorite. So that’s why I came in to torture her.” Dana says, and Cassie squirms a little. And the charge nurse notices immediately.

“Dr. McKay?” Her eyebrows go up expecting.

You have such a high fever that you don’t understand or care about their silent argument. 

“I’ve got this, I think Robbie’s got a trauma comin' in.” She eyes the new nurse like that will be better for her. A nice bloody case for Emma. Not you, not while Cassie had you. No extra hands required. 

“Dr. McKay, is there a chart made up for our patient?” Dana makes her point clear, but Cassie still isn’t happy. The gentle threat doesn’t reach your tired frame. But to the other three women, it’s clear; If a chart is made, it’s not a personal call anymore. 

If anything, Dana could get Cassie off the case for her ‘personal feelings,’ but the nurse is more poking the soft butch to see how much of an ass she’s going to be.

“No,” you say just as the older doctor cringes and nods.

“Yes,” Cassie says on top of you. Her braid falling over her shoulder as her dark scrubs can’t hide the way her body tenses.

“Okay, let’s do some labs and see what color mucus you got kiddo,” Dana tells you and grabs the blanket, pulling it across your lap.

Your eyes drift, you can help it.

“I have rounds.” You say with your eyes already closed.

“You may present your own case if you would like,” Al-Hashimi states coming in and pressing her ID down on the scanner to see your chart.  Ignoring the rest of the room to find out what ails you.

Cassie hates this even more than Dana, way more. 

“I’ve got this covered, really, just some routine tests.” Doctor McKay is being possessive, and Al-Hashimi doesn’t back down.

They’d been doing this for the past five months, and it was getting to be a game of whose strap was bigger. 

Dana was over it, but you were ignorant to the butch brawl. 

Emma makes a scared face as her attention goes back and forth to the two women fighting about your chart. Even Dana waits on this one.

The children would get tired eventually, or she’d need to get a kiddie pool with mud for the two to work it out. 

Dana had her bets on Cassie, not because of the ankle monitor or the rough history. But not, not because of the ankle monitor, McKay just had this love for you. That the charge nurse was sure wouldn’t blow over anytime soon. 

Baran is the queen of passive-aggressive in these situations, though, and she easily calls ranks. 

“Then we’ll make sure to put a rush on them and find out, Dr. McKay, may I speak to you in the hall?” The senior attending requests even though it’s not a question. 

Cassie makes sure to leave with your glasses in her pocket; you wouldn’t be driving without them. 

“Of course Dcotor Al-Hashimi,” she says through her teeth. 

The two leave, and you miss how Cassie’s eyes linger in your shivering frame.

Dana ignores the fight in the hall and instead squeezes your knee comfortingly.

Voices raising and falling outside don’t matter; you did. 

Dana nods at Emma towards the computer, knowing she’d have better chance at bullying you into submission then the sweet young nurse. 

You yawn, and try to get warmer in the blankets. Sweat drips down your forehead and you really wish you had stayed home; the light was too much for your headache. 

Dana wipes at your forehead with her palm; it’s less medical and far closer to an intimate gesture. 

“So tired, Dana…” you whisper, and she smiles comfortingly at you. You were too cute to even the charge nurse like this, all docile and needy. 

“I know, kid, so no more bad patient, okay? Emma here is gonna get you a second warm blanket and I’m gonna get some fluids in you. Starting of course, with your temp, now are you gonna behave or do I need to put you over my knee like my kids?” She says, and you don’t have the energy to fight her. Though you can see how she would totally spank you.

“Apple juice? you squeak in question and even Emma can’t help but smile at how cute you are. The normally smart doctor that she was intimidated by was getting tucked in by the charge nurse and asking for juice.

“As much as you want, you just gotta let me take your temp.” Dana agrees, trying not to smile too openly at how adorable you were. No wonder the two gay ladies in the hall were arguing over your chart.

Your eyes lull closed and Dana takes it as a warning, grabbing the thermometer for under your tongue.

“How long you been feelin this way, kiddo?” She says low in her ‘mama bear’ sorta way. It works on you every time. You fold like a melted string cheese under just a little maternal push. 

“I took Harrison to this new exhibit.” You shiver, and the thermometer beeps and is pulled from your lips.

Emma types in your chart once she sees the high number. 

“Who’s Harrison?” Emma asks, being a little nosey. Thinking that it’s your boyfriend. Kids these days, she’s probably thinking he’s 5’9 in finance. Nothing could be further from the truth. Dana chuckles at her very wrong idea.

“Harrison is Dr. McKay's little boy, he’s smarter than many of the doctors on this floor and cuter than a button,” Dana informs Emma, and now you smile big.

Yeah that was a good way to describe him. 

“He’s adorable and knows he’s got me wrapped around his finger. How else would I start playing the Nintendo Switch on my weekends?” You say and your teeth chatter from your temp. 

“You saw the exhibit, you worked 3 shifts and you’ve been having a headache, haven’t you?” Dana asks but starts an IV. You don’t even twitch as the needle goes into your vein. 

“Who squealed?” You open one eye to glare.

Dana hid her laugh at the absurdity of the question. 

“You got family here, family talks.” Dana dismissed you but you still gave her a dirty gaze. It’s not scary in the least. 

“You have spies.” Your throat is raw, and you sound like Johnny Cash after smoking a pack. 

But the two nurses don’t tease you, too low-hanging fruit. Besides, Dana has worked hard to be someone you trusted, and it wasn’t her style to tease you while you're half unconscious.

“Everywhere.” Dana agrees just as the two doctors re-enter.

Both are looking equally unhappy.

“Temp?” Al-Hashimi asks and Dana lets Emma answer. She’s squeezing the IV bag, and watching you try and pull the covers up incredibly higher. Your scrubs sticking to your skin like wet newspaper. It’s rough and unkind and you want to sleep. 

“103.4,” her gentle voice is kind but you groan and yank the blanket over your head all the way. 

“Does Harrison have it too?” Emma asks and misreads the room. This wasn’t a discussion. Everyone looks at her and then Cassie.

“Excuse me?” The doctor doesn’t like that one bit.

“Why would her son have it?” Al-Hashimi asks, but her tone is off.

“He didn’t put on the astronaut helmet with the zillion children coughing in it, so no.” You say, and your voice gives out halfway. 

“Rest your voice,” Cassie instructs harshly and then eyes Emma with a new fire. 

“Either way, let’s just rule everything else out.”

“Baran!” You try to shout and her lips curl at you using her first name. Just as Cassie’s grinding her jaw.

“Healthy Doctors on my floor. Only healthy Doctors. Get some rest, Khvaab-e-shirin.” Baran reminds you and squeezes your blanket covered foot. 

The anger in Cassie’s features are hot enough they could light her fingers on fire.

But then the senior attending is out of the room again. 

“Stop it,” the head nurse snaps at Cassie. “Get that look off your face.”

She says, waiving her pointer in a tiny circle. 

“What?” Cassie pushes back rudely, only to get a threatening stare in return. 

“I warned our patient I’d take her over my knee, you want to go first?” The motherly threatening is enough that Cassie tries to bounce back.

“Blood draw, and a Covid test. Do strep too.” Cassie lists and Dana actually pulls back, looking offended. Like what was this her first day or something?

“Oh, and then what?” The nurse delivers sarcastically but Emma is typing rapidly on your chart. 

“Not you too, please.” Cassie winces after getting the riot act with Doctor Al Hashimi. A very uncomfortable back and forth where the two argued but also danced around the real issue. Baran wanted you and so did Cassie and neither wanted to work in the same shift while yearning over you. 

The blonde can’t believe this clear rudeness. 

“Hey, I’m bisexual too. You gonna fight every gay on rotation or just the ones in your weight class?” Dana arches an eyebrow, and Cassie’s eyes zone in on you to see if you're paying attention. Luckily you were out. 

You look like Harrison when he sleeps. Mouth open, little snores, body curled like a bug in a rug. Cuddling nothing but fabric, how Cassie wanted to crawl into that bed and hold you tight. 

Hold a cold cloth on your forehead and rub your lower back over and over. Hypnotic and consistent, watching over your sleeping form to keep you safe. 

Kiss your nose and soothe any bad dreams. 

Cassie McKay wanted the honor of being the person you snuggled against. 

Today and every night, never letting you get cold again. Feet pressed against her own under comforter and silent nights.

“Please Dana, I just…” Cassie is trying really she is, but she’s already raw. Already holding back from fighting with Baran. 

So the nurse's shoulders drop a little, no longer wanting to make her point.

She raises her hands up to stop McKay from trying to say another word. 

“You started the chart, you finish the chart. Emma and I will keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty. Go do rotations, by the time you're done with our first few happy customers, the labs will be back. You can’t do anything for her now anyway.” Dana says, gently reaching out to squeeze Cassie’s bicep and it helps.

Lord she needed a raise. 

“Why did I fall for the cute one everyone wants?” Cassie asks, and Emma tries not to grin at how adorably in love Dr. McKay is.

Dana shakes her head, but makes her way for the door. Pushing the doctor as well. 

“Listen, your girl didn’t get sick while on a date with Al Hashimi. Let’s remember who she spends every weekend with. Now stop marking your territory and scram.” Dana says, opening the door and walking the worried Butch out.

It’s hours later when you wake up. Sorta disoriented, you get anxious and jerk from the bed.

Strange fever dreams causing a cold sweat, you gasp in despair. 

“Hey, hey, hey, easy, it’s me,” Cassie shushes and in the dim light you blink wearily at her.

“Cass? Cassie that you?” You croak, voice something in between. 

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s okay sweetie, I turned off the lights so you could sleep better. Here,” she puts your glasses on your face and now you can make her form out better.

It soothes you and you fall back flat on the bed. Knowing she’s around always makes you feel better. 

“Am I dead?” You ask, with the IV in your arm and Cassie working on your chart.

“Not funny.” She says dryly.

“Sorta funny,” you challenge, only to see Cassie looking down, right concerned.

“You should have told me you were feeling sick.” She sighs, disappointed that somehow she missed this. You're burning out right in front of her. 

Cassie was always on you to drink water, to sleep, feeding you when you forgot. Packing extra lunches and extra coffee.

So how had the doctor so missed this? 

The answer was clear, because you hid it from her. That’s what really made Cassie sick to her stomach. 

“I could have worked my shift.” You insist. Anxious that you’d caused a fuss, a call out, you dropped the ball. Made work harder for the team. 

“Your temp spiked, you were delirious and dehydrated.” Cassie’s tone is getting more clipped, more tense, it’s building. 

In the dark you can see her worry is all consuming.

“Cassie, I just-”

“You just weren’t taking care of yourself!” She shouts and you flinch from her words and then you see her eyes shut as she tries to breathe and calm down. Not wanting to shout at you. Her temper flaring because she’s scared.

“Hey, I’m alright. I just needed some fluids and and-” You start but Cassie wipes at her face and you wonder if you’ve broken something in her. 

“You, make everyone else a priority. You can’t burn out like this, your important. Not just a doctor but…Damn it.” Cassie chews on her bottom lip trying so hard to figure out how to do this. 

“I didn’t want to worry you.” Your voice cracks and your head is pounding. 

“That’s what’s got me worried.” Cassie lets out a self deprecating sound and whispers at her feet. 

“Cassie, it’s just the flu.” You say gently but Doctor McKay isn’t able to let it go. 

“I need you to take care of yourself, do you understand? You matter. I need you….” Cassie is opening her mouth and she can’t say the rest because that sentence really sums it all up. 

Cassie McKay needs you. 

“Your mad I didn’t tell you.” You say now, thinking of how you’d evaded her. 

Her head falls before she lifts it and tries to calmly discuss this. 

“I can’t take care of you if you won’t let me.” Her voice cracks and you reach out, it doesn’t take your fellow doctor more than a second to grab your hand back.

“You have enough to worry-” You try but it makes the older woman huff and cut you off. 

“No, no, you don’t get to decide. That’s not how this works.” Cassie insists and you sniffle and she can’t stay mad at you when your sick and out of it. 

So you two just hold hands and stare at one another. 

“I don’t wanna get you sick.” You whisper, voice straining and Cassie leans forward and pulls wet strand of your hair back off your face. 

“I’ll take my chances.” She says gently with love in her eyes. 

“Harrison told me it probably had more germs then chucky cheese ball pit and I still put it on. I wanted to be an astronaut.” You say in hushed tones and Cassie can’t help but snort at that. 

“What am I gonna do with you,” Cassie keeps playing with your hair and holding your hand. 

“Let me win mario cart once in a while?” You try with big pleading eyes. It wasn’t fair that she could beat you and Harrison. 

“Not a chance, that’s my street cred.” The older woman says and you giggle then wince in pain. 

“I brought you apple juice and applesauce, and I even snagged a donut. But you have to take the tylenol. Or I’m withholding the sprinkles.” She’s got a bunch of goodies on the tray.

“You are cruel.” You say back and Cassie nods like she’s tough shit. 

“You know it,” The doctor helps you sit up, propping the bed and pillows until your up. 

“I feel like death.” You say in pain.

“Now she tells me,” Cassie lays it on thick and you try to be grumpy about it. But you want that pink sprinkled donut dang it. 

“If this is the end, I just want you to know-”

Now Cassie’s not having any of it. She shakes the pill cup. 

“Don’t even, jokes about your death will not get me to share sugar.” The older doctor warns. 

“I see the light,” you push but take the pills and Cassie opens the apple juice and you take a swig. 

“Last warning,” Cassie informs lifting the donut and taking a bite herself. 

Your eyes widen, in despair - how could she be so mean. 

“I thought you swore to do no harm.” You stick out your bottom lip. 

“Dana said she’d spank you if you were bad, what do you think I’d do?” Cassie actually flirts and you lose your ability to speak at the idea. 

Dirty dirty thoughts, fuck what a sight.

“That’s what I thought, be good. I’m taking you home after my shift,” she checks her wrist watch. “So in exactly four more hours, so if you can not develop any new illnesses between then and now I’ll even let you pick dinner.”

You don’t get to say anything else, but Cassie sets the rest of the donut onto a napkin and moves the tray over your hospital bed. 

“I’m still trying to decide if I want to be good or not,” you flirt but you aren’t joking. You don’t know if you can blame it on the temperature. 

Cassie gives you a long look before leaning over your body and kissing your forehead. 

You can’t help but close your eyes and feel more loved from such a tiny peck than you had your whole life. 

Cassie lingers too long to be considered friendly, before leaning back and eyeing you. Your flushed from the temperature, that’s what she tells herself. 

“You’re already in the dog house. Now no more death jokes, close your eyes. Good dreams only, and drink your juice.”

“I want Chinese.” You say, but your heart is doing summersalts in your chest. You don’t want her to go.

“Behave.” Cassie says one last time before moving towards the door. 

“Can I have another kiss if I promise to?” You for sure can’t blame it on the temperature now. 

But Cassie also couldn’t resist such a request. She moves back to your bed and goes for your forehead but just as you close your eyes to enjoy it again. 

She moves down and pecks your lips. 

You must look like a cartoon because when you open your eyes she’s smiling at your lovestruck look. 

Your grin is so big it actually hurts your cheeks. 

“Four whole hours?” You ask needy and revel in how much Cassie seems to like you like this. 

“Two hundred and fourty minutes,” Cassie agrees but in the dark now you think you can see her own blush. 

“Do you have to go?” It’s desperate but real.

“Dana already is grumbling because I came in here every twenty minutes while you were sleeping. I think if I stay any longer she’ll send Al-Hashimi in and put me on AI charts all night.” 

“Baran’s nice!” You argue and your voice cracks. Cassie grabs your juice and makes you take a sip but she’s already disagreeing. 

“Hey, don’t forget who’s got your chart.” Cassie threatens and you wonder why the two doctors don’t get along. 

You frown and give a little pout. 

“You sure you want to take me home? I’m overly needy when I don’t feel good, I know this, and it’s gross.” You say but Cassie shakes her head. 

“I like you like this.” She admits afraid of how you’ll react.

“Bedridden, waiting for the end.” You tease again and Cassie grabs your donut and holds it up. 

“I warned you.” Cassie’s got this look that you can’t place. 

“Not the donut! Anything but the donut.” You shout playfully and move your hand to try to take it. 

“Can you be a good girl?” The older doctor asks and you can’t explain the full body reaction you have. 

Except that you were sick and maybe subspace was easier to reach like this….or maybe it was all Cassie McKay. 

But you sink and the butch see’s it immediately. Tilting her head to the side she sets the donut back down and cups your cheek. Swallowing the sugar and wondering what you taste like.

“Can you be my good girl?” Cassie asks now, and she needs you to say it. Needs it to be true. 

Your lip trembles just a bit, but the hold on your face has you feeling so cherished that you get choked up. 

You nod once.

And Cassie likes that, she likes that more than anything. 

“Good, eat, drink, sleep. Fourteen thousand four hundred seconds, then your butt is being released. And you can get as much sweet and sour soup as you want. Okay?” McKay says more to herself than to you, she’s never been more excited to get off shift. 

You nod again and grin, and Cassie doesn’t want to leave you but she’s got to. 

“You okay here?” She asks, but she’s stalling.

You nod again, then Cassie’s taking off your glasses and putting them back in her pocket.

You two stare at each other with more feelings than you can take, it’s bursting out of your chest. But she’s walking backwards to the door. 

Hesitating, not touching the doorknob. 

Almost like she’s afraid if she leaves maybe you’ll change your mind, or maybe this was all too good to be true. 

“1.44e+7” You whisper and she looks confused for a second before realizing you are doing the math for the milliseconds. 

She points to the applejuice and you grab it again and drink.

“My good girl.” 

Take care of yourself

You had no idea how you ended up like this—on your hands and knees, your back arched so obscenely deep that your ass was high in the air, presenting like some desperate bitch in heat. You’d been like this for what felt like hours, stuffed full of two thick cocks, stretched beyond reason, your cunt clinging to them greedily despite not knowing how the hell they even fit in the first place. But they did—oh, they did—and now, they dragged against your slick, gooey walls, each thrust sending pleasure-cracked lightning through your body. One thick, blunt cock nudged mercilessly against your sweet spot while the other rammed into your cervix over and over, a punishing rhythm that left you shaking and delirious, every nerve in your body reduced to raw sensation.

The filthy plap! plap! of skin against skin echoed through the room, mingling with your ragged moans. Every thrust sent Leviathan’s heavy balls smacking against your swollen clit, the impact making your toes curl, your body shudder. It felt too good—too much. Your eyes rolled back as you drooled onto the floor, your body strung tight between pleasure and unbearable need.

“L-Levi! I-it’s—ah!—too much!” You whimpered, weakly trying to crawl forward, your trembling hands dragging uselessly and pathetically against the smooth floor. But you barely made it an inch before he growled, his long, serpentine tail snapping around your waist like a vice.

With a sharp yank, he hauled you back hard onto his cocks, impaling you deeper, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your vision blurred with white-hot pleasure as he bottomed out, stuffing you so full your cunt spasmed around the thick intrusion, making you choke on a broken scream.

“But it wasn’t too much when you were acting like a little slut around Belphie, huh?” Leviathan spat, his voice laced with venom. One clawed hand cracked down onto your ass—

SMACK!

A high-pitched mewl ripped from your throat as your abused cunt clenching down around him like a vice, milking him without even meaning to. His rhythm never faltered—deep, ruthless strokes that had your thighs quivering, your mind unraveling at the edges. Your mind scrambled, barely able to grasp what he was talking about—Belphie?

Vaguely, you remembered the youngest brother trying to tug you down for a nap, how you’d squirmed away, desperately refusing because you knew how Leviathan got. As much as he was the awkward, blushing otaku who stammered at the mere mention of holding hands, he was also the Avatar of Envy. And when that envy took hold of him?

He fucked you like the demon that he was, like he needed to carve his claim into your body, brand you from the inside out.

And fuck, it was always so hot.

“I-I—ngh!—didn’t d-do anything,” you moaned, only to yelp when Levi yanked your head back by your hair, exposing your throat, forcing your back into an even deeper arch. His cocks drove into you even harder, your walls stretching around him in helpless surrender. You swore you could feel him in your throat with how impossibly deep he was.

“Didn’t do anything? That w-wasn’t—ah!—an apology, you fucking whore,” Leviathan sneered, his sweaty indigo bangs plastered to his forehead, coral horns gleaming under the ethereal blue glow of his massive fish tank. Henry 2.0 swam lazily in the background, oblivious to the debauchery taking place in front of him.

The creamy mess at the base of his cocks was proof of how many times he had already wrung you dry—how many times he had forced your spent cunt to cum, again and again, until you were nothing more than a twitching, babbling wreck.

Another sharp tug on your hair made you cry out, his claws digging deep into your waist. He was always so mean when he fucked you like this, so cruel. You knew if you didn’t apologize properly, he’d break you completely—fuck you until you passed out, just to prove a point. It only made your cunt clench even more tightly around his cocks at the thought.

When he changed his pace, slowing just enough to make you feel every thick vein, every ridge, your forehead dropped against the cool floor. You drooled messily onto it, shuddering, your pupils practically heart-shaped at the change in pace. He pulled out almost completely, leaving just the fat, leaking heads stretching your entrance, before driving all the way in again, burying himself to the base, grinding deep. The pressure against your cervix made your breath hitch, made your walls squeeze around him in helpless spasms. His tail still kept your hips up, ass high in the air, forcing you to take everything he gave you.

“‘M-‘m sorry! I-I won’t—f-fuck—do it again!” you sobbed, voice breaking into little hiccupping cries. Another deep, merciless grind had you gasping, his cocks stretching you so wide it felt like they were reshaping your insides. “I-I’ll be g-good!”

At your pathetic little plea, Leviathan’s cocks throbbed, the tight heat of your desperate little cunt making him groan. He leaned forward, pressing his sweaty, overheated chest against your back, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as his long fingers abandoned your hair in favor to sliding down—

Oh.

Oh.

A keening whimper tore from your throat as his thumb pressed down, circling your swollen, aching bud in tight, merciless motions. Your cunt instantly clamped down, gripping him in a desperate, needy vice. Fuck—fuck—just that and the slow, deliberate grind of his hips had you teetering on the edge.

“I-I can feel you tightening up,” Levi panted, his breath hot against your ear. His normally pale cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, his sunset-colored eyes glowing orange with predatory hunger. His thumb pressed down harder, faster, dragging you toward the inevitable. “Gonna make a mess on my cocks again, huh?”

Your toes curled. Your eyes rolled. You tried to rock back against him, to get him to pound you again, but his tail kept you trapped. You whined, needy, desperate.

“L-Levi! M-more—ahn!—I n-need more!”

The groan he let out was pure filth, low and breathless. His breath tickled your ear as he dragged his tongue along the shell before pulling back again. You whimpered when his fingers left your clit, but before you could protest, his hands clamped around your waist and—

He slammed into you.

“You were just whining that it was too much, and now you want more?” Leviathan panted, voice rough. “I-I guess—s-shit—I shouldn’t expect anything less from a cock-hungry little slut like you.”

His heavy balls slammed against your clit again, the wet plap! plap! echoing through the room, so obscene you would’ve blushed if you had a single thought left in your fucked-out brain. The sound of your sloppy cunt sucking him in, taking both of his cocks to the root, was filthy. It only made you get wetter, made your slick drip down your thighs, messy and wanton.

One of his hands released your waist and snaked up—

Around your throat.

Your high-pitched squeal turned into something closer to a gargled sob as his grip tightened just enough, the pressure sending you careening straight over the edge. Your body trembled violently, your walls spasming around his cocks, milking them greedily as you gushed, slick dripping down your trembling thigh. Your mind blanked, drowned in white-hot euphoria. You weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore, just slurred, broken babbles of his name.

Leviathan let out a guttural moan, his grip tightening as he slammed into you one last time—twice—before burying himself deep and cumming.

Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your already abused cunt, making you tremble as the heat pooled inside you. He didn’t stop, didn’t pull out—just rocked his hips lazily, fucking his seed even deeper, filling you until you overflowed.

You barely twitched when his tail gently flipped you onto your back, legs spread, his cum already beginning to leak from your wrecked cunt. You expected him to be back to his awkward, flustered self—to stammer out apologies for being so rough, to blush and look away like he always did.

But your breath hitched when you looked up at him.

He was still in his demon form, his tail flicking idly, those glowing sunset eyes fixed on you like prey. His cocks—still hard—were glistening with his own release, drooling more thick strands onto your already ruined entrance.

Fuck.

“I thought we were done. I already apologized,” you murmured, voice shaky—though your traitorous thighs spread wider in silent invitation. Your twitchy, leaking cunt clenched around nothing, desperate for him to fill it again.

Leviathan’s lips curled, his tail coiling possessively around your waist. He took both of his cocks in one hand and—

Pap! Pap! Pap!

He slapped your soaked, needy cunt with the heavy, leaking heads, making you jolt, slick spilling even more in anticipation.

“It wasn’t good enough,” he murmured, voice dangerously low. “You need to give me a better apology.”

Leviathan was definitely going to fuck you unconscious.

The empty basket in your hands does not keep your mind from thinking. You have a weird feeling in your chest and it will not stop no matter what you do. You only hope that nothing has happened while you were gone.

Your friend is fine. With the herbs you just delivered, she will be back to normal in no time! But you already had a weird feeling when you kneeled next to her.

There is your kelku, the home you have been living in for years. But the negative feeling comes from there. Should you go in? Maybe you will just see something what makes your heart break a little more.

You sigh and push the flap aside, hoping to find your family eating dinner.

But no, there are no children. There are just Jake and Neytiri, sitting on the ground. The atmosphere is tense around the three of you.

„Jake…Neytiri.“ you greet softly and put the basket on the ground. Out of instinct, you pull the woven shawl tighter around you. Maybe because you hope it can protect you from whatever conversation will be happening. „Where are the children?“

“Why did you not tell me how you were feeling? Why did you not tell us how we have been treating you?“ Neytiri never liked to beat around the bush. No, she would rather talk directly about the fact that they have been neglecting their mate and said mate did not say anything about it.

„I do now understand, Neytiri. Answer me please, where are the children?“ Oh, you know exactly what they are talking about. And they can see it in your face, you just do not want to answer the question.

„They’re at Mo‘at‘s. Now answer us.“ Jake‘s voice is grave and filled with anger. Not anger towards you, never you, but at himself. How could he let it get this far?

„Again, I do not know what you want to hear.“ you try to sound confident but it comes out rather as if you are trying to run from their questions.

„Ma yawne do not lie to us! We have neglected you, have acted as if you are nothing more than a friend or a guest in your own home! We did not even know about your separate nivi!“ Neytiri‘s voice raises in sadness. The words are bitter on her tongue but they are truthful. The truth is always bitter.

„How do you know about that?“ that got your attention. And based on Jake and Neytiri‘s expressions, they do not know for long. Who told them? Was it Tuk?

„Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you didn’t say a word! You have been suffering in silence for Eywa knows how long and didn’t say a word. And hell, we didn’t notice either. Tuk made us see it!“ Jake is pacing while shouting and you know you can not escape this conversation or situation.

Instead of saying anything, you lower your head and look down at the ground in front of you. Then you sigh and decide that apologizing might be the easiest way out of this. „I apologize. I thought you would notice and eventually stop but you did not and then it just became…habit. Again, forgive me for not saying anything.“ your voice is calm but your mind definitely is not. You are so exhausted.

„Why are you apologizing?! Baby please listen instead of apologizing!“ the nickname feels strange on Jake‘s tongue. How long has it been since he called you anything but your name?

You sigh and look up, and let out a startled gasp because suddenly, he is in front of you. Before you can react, he has already taken your hands into his. Jake‘s hands are warm, yours are cold. They always are cold.

„Baby let me apologize. I‘ve been a terrible husband. God, neglecting your wife is the worst thing you can do in a marriage! I’ve spent so much time with the children and duties that I was glad to have some alone time with Neytiri and I completely forgot about you! I’m so sorry baby please forgive me!“ the emotion in his voice makes you tremble. Jake has always been emotional with you and Neytiri, just never in front of the kids.

„Jake stop-“ you get stopped by a hand on your arm. It is Neytiri who is looking at you with so much sorrow and so much sadness in her big yellow eyes. You used to spend hours looking into those eyes, but not anymore.

„No, ma yawne. We promised you forever and told you we can not live without at our side, and we have done so anyway. Without us even noticing..“ Neytiri breaks into a sob. She is suddenly reminded how she misses you at her side during flying, hunting, weaving. Those are all things you two have done together, and now you do it alone.

All three of you can vividly remember the night Jake and Neytiri asked you to meet them in their kelku. For no particular reason, you wore your favorite loincloth and your prettiest necklace acting as a chest garment. You even rebraided your hair twice because you were so nervous. They confessed rather clumsily. First Neytiri, then Jake. But both of them wanted you at their side forever. They promised you you would never be alone anymore.

Believing them, you held your kuru to each of theirs and made tsaheylu. You felt everything in that moment, and from that moment on you were their wife. How could things have ended up like this?

„Say something baby. Please..“ Jake is desperate not to lose you. A mating bond is forever, but that does not mean he is willing to lose you emotionally.

Now that you look at them like that, they seem equally desperate to make you happy again. With a sigh, you take a deep breath.

„You have both hurt me immensely. You stopped reaching out to me, stopped asking me to come with you. And whenever I asked one of you to come with me, you would brush me off.“ you make a pause and take in their expressions. Neytiri is losing hope and is probably praying to the Great Mother that she is not losing you tonight. Jake looks as if he is about to throw up from the truth in your words. „But I still love you both so much. I could not bring myself to leave you, emotionally or physically. I forgive you both for all the things you have done. But you must promise me that it will never happen again. Promise me..“ your voice cracks. Tears are running down your cheeks and you can not wipe them because Jake is holding your hands too tightly.

Suddenly, you do not need to wipe your tears anymore because Jake is cupping your face and already did it for you. He leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

„We will never do that again, you hear me? Never in my entire damn life will I forget you again.“ Jake is determined not to let it happen again. Because if it does, he will haul himself off a cliff and drop dead. You do not deserve to be treated like an afterthought.

Neytiri is smiling for the first time since she had the realization that they are terrible mates to you. She takes your palm and presses kisses to it while mumbling praise and thanks to Eywa, and to you.

While you are distracted, you are picked up by Jake. You shriek. „Jake! What are you doing?“ you obviously try to push against him but he is simply stronger than you. So you protest without success.

„Making my wife feel loved again.“ he carries you to the giant nivi. There could be easily fit four people in. First he lays you inside, then he climbs inside himself.

He rests his back against the nivi, with you on his chest listening to his heartbeat. Your exhaustion and sleepiness seems to make itself known.

Neytiri climbs in from the other side, was to curl against your back. Her hand is rubbing circles on your waist, calming you instantly. „Oel ngati kameie(I See You).“ she whispers into your ear and you can not help but smile. How long has your heart longed to hear those words again?

part i.

You like to think that you’re a good person. You have plenty of attributes that make you a good person. The summer heat in California, although, is enough to negate all of them. Somehow, you always seem to forget just how miserable the weather can get until it’s hitting you right in the face. You step out of the comfort of your home and into the sweltering heat of the day, already groaning as your dog waits eagerly by your side. With your headphones on and ABBA track queued up, the click of a leash connecting to a collar signals the start of your daily routine.

Your dog trots happily beside you on the worn sidewalk, seemingly unbothered by the high temperatures of August in Los Angeles. Maybe you were overreacting slightly, maybe you just overheat quicker than the average person. One thing you do know, is that you found this heat to be more akin to spending an afternoon in Hell.

“The things I do for you,” you mutter, wiping a drop of sweat from your brow as your dog looks back up at you, tongue lolling out the side of their mouth as they pant happily along.

A few upbeat tracks later, you find yourself humming along to the sounds of your Walkman and looping back up the street where your house stands on the corner. As you approach the house immediately before yours, your dog’s demeanor shifts suddenly. The leash in your hand pulls taught as they sniff wildly at the air, ears pinned back. You pull your headphones down around your neck, cassette still playing quietly into the air around you as you continue to tread forward carefully. As you get a few feet closer to your neighbors yard, your dog starts barking incessantly and quickly breaks free from your grasp on the leash with a strong yank. Your dog beelines for the hedges lining your neighbors windows as you stumble into the yard after them, trying to catch the end of the leash as it drags through the grass.

“Shit!” a high pitched whine hits your ears as you inch closer to the hedges. “Shoo! Get!” the voice shouts in a panicked whisper.

Your dog is now growling at the hedge as you reach down and secure the leash back in your palm. You peer around to investigate the space between the hedge and the windows of your neighbors home when you are met with the wide blue eyes of a disheveled, startled man sprawled out in the dirt.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Who are you?” you blurt as the man’s gaze shifts rapidly between you and the window he was clearly just peering through.

“Huh? What are you, some kind of peeping Tom? I’ll call the police right now, I swear to God!” you bellow, pointing an accusatory finger in the strangers face. He stammers as you take a step closer to him, placing your hands on your hips in an authoritative stance.

His eyes widen as you loom over him, your dog continuing to growl and snarl at his feet. The sun glints off of a gold watch secured tightly to his wrist as he raises his hands quickly in surrender, waving them frantically as you look down at him.

“Stop, stop! I’m not some kind of pervert, I swear, I’m—“ he starts, only to be cut off by your voice.

“Cut the shit, I’m not kidding! I will march over to my house and call the cops if you don’t explain yourself this second.”

“Sunshine, I am the cops! I’m a private investigator, if you must know, and I’m here working on a case for my client!” he hisses, kicking his foot as your dog nips at his shoe.

“And you expect me to just believe you? For all I know, you could be casing the joint!” Your brow cocks as you examine the man in front of you a little closer.

Private investigator, huh? He doesn’t seem to really fit the part, but his look also doesn’t scream ‘criminal’, you think as your eyes dart across his cowering form below you. He’s a bit rugged around the edges, maybe about five to ten years older than you. His mussed hair lays in loose strands across his forehead with some surprisingly well-kempt facial hair to match. Sideburns paired with a mustache and a goatee. Or is it a soul patch? Either way, it’s all very seventies of him. His watch is matched to a gold ring that sits snug against his pinky and a simple chain that hangs around his throat. He’s wearing a garishly patterned shirt, unbuttoned about halfway to reveal a white tank top that lays taught across his chest. Your eyes drift down to his lightly colored trousers, smeared with a layer of dirt and a few stray leaves, likely from his scuffle with your dog.

You pull slightly on the leash in your hand, signaling your dog to let up their assault on the man. The P.I. braces himself with one hand against the dirt of the flowerbed to push off the ground when without thinking, your foot flies to the center of his chest, pinning him down. He lets out a yelp as the air is punched from his lungs, body hitting the hard ground beneath him.

“Nope.” You say, crossing your arms across your chest, keeping your eyes trained on him in case he tries to do something stupid. You weren’t letting him get away that easily.

Maybe it’s the heat making you act like a bitch, or maybe it’s the stranger trying to get his rocks off by peeking into unsuspecting people’s homes, but you weren’t about to just let him go on his merry way just because he claims to be an investigator. You raise your brows at the man under your shoe, waiting for a better explanation before relinquishing your hold on him.

“Mrs. Doherty, that’s who lives here, you know her, right?” He points at the house behind him with a thumb. “She’s the one who hired me. Thinks her husband has been seeing another woman while she’s out, I’m just looking into it.” He says as he reaches into his pocket to hand you a business card.

You reach down slightly and pluck the card from between his fingers and examine it. Detective Holland March, Private Investigator. The Nice Guys Agency. The card has a crude caricature of him and another man emblazoned above a phone number and address. The Nice Guys. Where have you heard that name before? You wrack your brain for a moment, eyes flitting between the drawing on the card and the man in front of you. Suddenly, you remember the countless newspaper headlines and articles you had read after The Nice Guys had closed the case of that conspiracy with the dead porn star a few years back. The details begin to settle and click into place as you lower your shoe from Holland’s chest and let him slowly rise back to his feet.

“Are you supposed to give your client up that easily? Isn’t there some sort of client privilege or something?” You ask as you watch Holland attempt to dust off his brown-stained trousers.

His lean frame is actually fairly tall when he isn’t all but folded in half on the ground. He stands much taller than you. He grumbles a bit as he just rubs the dirt further into his fabric clad legs before turning his attention back to you.

“Well, I wouldn’t have had to give her up that easily if you weren’t so concerned with trying to squish me like a bug, sugar.” He drawls, reaching up to straighten his shirt collar before dipping into the pocket for a cigarette and lighter. The pet name sends a shiver through your body, despite the fact that you thought this man was a pervert not five minutes ago.

He lights the cigarette and takes a few puffs as his brow furrows and he begins leaning closer to your chest.

“Hey! Have you learned anything?” You bite out, jumping back slightly, your dog highly focused on Holland.

“Is that Voulez-Vous?” Holland asks, tilting his head towards the headphones still dangling around your neck. “Mm, I love ABBA, those guys really know how to make some good music.” He grins, taking another drag from his cigarette.

You can only nod, returning a small smile to Holland as smoke billows out around the two of you.

“Well, I’ve seen about all I need for today, I think I’ll head out and go get these case details squared away.” Holland says as he reaches a hand out to you.

“If it’s not too much trouble, give me a ring if you see anything out of the ordinary around here, yeah? Numbers on the card, that’s my direct line. The smallest detail could lead to a big break in the case.” His large hand squeezes yours gently before letting it drop. “Really. The smallest detail. Nothing is too small.” His eyes bore into yours for a moment longer than necessary. Unnecessary, but not quite unwelcome.

Holland spins around and starts toward the street, not without throwing a wink back at you over his shoulder. You squint as you bring a hand up to shield your eyes as you watch Holland whip his head around a few times before jogging down the block to a dusty old convertible parked near the end of the street.

You shake your head and turn to look down at your dog when you spot a small notepad resting in the dirt in front of the window. You lean down and pick it up, examining the worn cover in your hands. You realize who it must belong to and a smile creeps onto your lips as you pocket both the notepad and Holland’s business card. Maybe you will be giving him a call after all.

authors note ✮⋆˙ eeek welcome back!!! this is part one of my silly little holland x reader fic i hope you liked it! <3 if you’re reading this, thank you for being here and for making it this far!! please consider liking, reblogging, or commenting if you enjoyed it, i love to hear your thoughts! :-)

this post will be added to my masterlist and updated as i publish more parts! stay tuned, i’m so excited for you to see what’s in store for them 😙

if you’d like to be added to my taglist for this and all future rygos works, please let me know! 🫶🗣️

special acknowledgments ✮⋆˙ thank you to all of my dear friends that have helped encourage me to keep writing!!! i love you all so much, you mean the world to me 🥹🫶

@cosmicyeehaw haley my beloved!!! thank you for always letting me throw ideas at you and to be the first to read all of my drafts, you have inspired and encouraged me so much with my writing so far ilysm 💖💘💖 and big thanks especially for letting me use the now holland-coveted-pet-name ‘sugar’ ;) you mean the world to me bestie,,

@larsandthewritergirl evie my beloved!! your ex!holland works have especially inspired me to write something of my own and ilysm as well 💖💘 thank you for engraining the phrase ‘babydoll’ in my big wrinkly brain… big Thoughts happening here credit is due to you for any future use in the fic :’)

You were aware he'd be inexperienced, the way he always shut himself out from the opportunities to meet people and get closer to them. In a way, you understand the need to hide oneself so nobody can hurt you. Or maybe so that you can't hurt yourself, by being a disappointment and failure. Whatever it is, you're just glad you got Herman to trust you enough to be vulnerable with each other.

He seems tense and the opposite of calm right now, with you straddled on his lap and your thighs bracketing his. Earlier, you'd zipped down his suit all the way, though he insisted on keeping it on. Now he lays half naked with his chest and torso bare beneath you, while your palms caress over his pale and freckled skin to soothe his nerves. You feel a bit naked compared to him, your own clothes thrown away somewhere, leaving you only in your bra and panties.

"Relax for once, we can take it as slow as you need." you try to assure him, but it does only a little to quiet his frightened mind. His chest gently heavies under your palms with each deep breath he takes and his eyes, partially hidden beneath his fogged up googles stare into yours, wide and unsure. "I-I...yeah, slow. Slow is good." he response quietly, his voice a bit shaky but otherwise contend. Even in his nervous state, he appears to be thrilled at having you on top of him.

"You- you should know-" he was about to trail off before a hesitant grind of your hips on top of him made him gasp in overwhelming pleasure. You can feel the bulge pressing against your clothed pussy and you really need that friction by how turned on you are. "Sorry, Hermy. But you're not the only one who's horny." you excuse yourself with a grin on your face, your own cheeks matching his red ones.

You move your hips in slow and gentle grinding on top of him, rubbing yourself over his bulge eagerly. The fabric of your panties cling to your folds, from the wetness that's caused by your arousal. And Herman can feel that too, his cock throbs in response under his suit.

"Wait- You don't get it-" his hands, until now so hesitant to even touch you the slightest, reach out to grip you by your waist. Not really stopping you but also not encouraging you, just to hold onto you for dear life. Before you can tease him further, his grip on your waist tightens and his own hips grind upwards to meet yours. "Close- I'm so close, I'm sorry!" he whines with shame, at the same time his hips never falters and neither does yours.

"It's okay, I don't mind." you assure him with a breathless voice, while holding onto his chest with your palms sprawled out over his skin and matching the rhythm of his hips.

"Come on, let go already..." you mumble towards him with want, and that's what makes him explode. His wet hands, wetter than usual due to your activity, grip strongly on your waist, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he ruts his stuttering hips against you like a man possessed. The googles on his face are fogged up completely, and while he seems to spill himself into his boxers (and herosuit), you reach out to pull them off his head. His half lidded and dazed eyes meeting yours.

"Oh yeah, that was- that was so good." he falls limp onto the waterproof-plastic wrapped bed, his chest rising and falling to catch his breath. You stare at him with a soft grin on your face, amusingly taking in his flushed cheeks and goofy grin on his lips.

"Easy for you to say, I didn't reach my orgasm." at those words, his grin slowly fades away. His gaze turning into guilt. "Sorry...I didn't mean to- I'm sorry, I-" he tries to explain himself, but you stop him with a gentle press of your lips against his, not even giving him a chance to spill his insecure thoughts out loud. "I wasn't trying to make you fell guilty, hermy." you assure him with a gentle whisper against his lips, before pressing another lovely kiss on the corner of his mouth.

His hands on your waist relax and brush down to your thighs, giving a gentle squeeze of affection. At your soothing words, his eyes flutter closed and his tense eyebrows relax.