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sneverussape · 2 years

Text

a little to the left

from @greens-your-color's prompt #18 - NEIGHBOURHOOD

a ramble that somehow managed to get herded into something that vaguely resembles a fic. evans!severus au. kit evans is a young mother of three, and just trying to keep it together as best as she can.

wc: 3790++ cw seizures

It was Severus who had noticed it first, one morning as they were walking home after having brought Lily to school in time for reception. He stopped suddenly in front of the metre-high hedge set in between Mr. Cole’s and the Pintels’ front gates and tugged on his mother’s hand.

“Oh,” he said, sounding slightly surprised. “I’d never seen that before.”

“Seen what, Severus?” Kit Evans asked. She had been distracted while walking as she tried to catalogue that week’s dinner menus, medicines, and various school schedules. Severus’ words, however, caught her attention, snagging on her subconscious like fur on a wire. She peered at the hedge that he was staring at but couldn’t see past the thick foliage.

“It’s a hedge, darling,” she said gently, trying to mask the bewilderment she felt. Severus was still staring intently at the hedge, and all too quickly the bewilderment curdled into worry. “Are you feeling all right?”

Kit brushed her hand against his forehead to feel for a fever and Severus, always perceptive and clearly irritated at her gesture, moved away from her touch.

“Mum.” He said, sounding as though he was admonishing her for being too thick. He turned to look up at her, his lips pursed in exasperation. “It’s a house.”

Kit frowned and once more glanced at the hedge. It was a common gorse bush that had been grown as a perimeter wall between two houses and had been there ever since they had moved into the neighborhood well over two years ago. She didn’t remember Severus having noticed anything different about it before.

She took a mental step back and attempted to understand. “You mean Mr. Cole’s house?” she prompted. The workers at the hospital had said early on that it was probably best to provide prompts. “Or Mr. and Mrs. Pintel’s?”

Severus shook his head and sighed. “No, I mean a new house. It’s right there, Mum, can’t you see? It’s got…white walls and a green door with a…uh…bird? I don’t know.”

This time, Kit knelt in front of her son and peered closely at his face. He didn’t look ill, or seem ill, and didn’t seem to be on the verge of having another episode. But there was no house, white, green, or otherwise. Only a nearly-overrun hedge in the space between the Coles and the Pintels’ properties. She bit her lip, silently fretting as she held both his hands in hers.

“You see it, Mum, don’t you?” Severus asked, looking hopeful. He gestured towards it one more time, looking for all the world as though he was seeing something there that she couldn’t. “It’s right there.”

“Yes, darling, of course,” Kit said in agreement. Instinct told her it was better to concede than insist, although the hairs on the back of her neck were stood on end. She glanced once more at the hedge, going as far as squinting at it to perhaps see, but it remained the same.

“Of course.”

Lily had seen it next, but unlike Severus, she hadn’t acted all that surprised.

“It’s been there a while, Mum. The house,” she said with the know-it-all air of any overconfident eight-year-old. She was playing a game wherein she had challenged herself not to step on the cracks on the pavement and so their trek home from the pharmacist was taking twice as long. Upon reaching the hedge, Kit had asked if she could see anything beyond it (just to check, but in truth she didn’t know whether she preferred if Lily would confirm its presence or if she had to ratchet her worry for Severus up to ten times more). Lily had glanced up to look, but it was as though she was only doing it to confirm. “It’s big and white. With a green door.”

Kit felt her stomach turn to ice, but then hastily attempted to rationalize it by thinking that maybe Severus had already mentioned it to her. The two had developed a strong bond over the years, especially after the startling discovery of their being…well…unlike other children, in more ways than one. She and Harry loved their two youngest dearly, but Kit would be lying if she said that what made them different wasn’t also what constantly kept her and Harry up at night. She was constantly worried that there would be something that they wouldn’t understand or misread that would enable the other world to take their children away. Although St. Mungo’s had so far helped them with Severus’ condition tremendously (much more than the ordinary hospitals could, anyway), thoughts like those often crept up behind her and startled her with their sharpness.

“I don’t know who lives in it though,” Lily said, shrugging, entirely oblivious to her mother’s ongoing internal distress. Her cheeks were smeared with the remnants of the Freddo that Kit had allowed her to have before supper. “The windows are dark. Maybe a ghost?”

(Kit honestly wished she had just never asked).

Petunia hadn’t even bothered stopping.

“It needs trimming,” she said, when Kit pointed at the hedge and told her to look. “Maybe I should ask Mr. Cole if he’d pay me to trim it on his side one day after school. Mr. and Mrs. Pintel are always out and I don’t really have time on the weekends.”

“It’s a hedge, darling.”

“I know that, but the children—” Kit huffed at her husband, who was now running his hand over the gorse’s prickly branches. He did it warily, as though he was petting a spooked horse, or was afraid that something was going to grab his wrist and pull him in. “Both Severus and Lily have said the same thing. A house, not a hedge.”

Harry let out what sounded like a non-committal grunt. His brows were furrowed. She knew he was thinking.

“And Petunia?” he asked, after what seemed like an age.

“She didn’t even notice anything. Her only interest was in charging Mr. Cole a premium for trimming.”

Harry let out another low grunt, but it sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

“Curious,” he said. He eyed Kit from behind his glasses. “You know, it could be…one of those things. You think?”

“What things?” Kit asked, although she already knew what he was implying. Something in her belly seemed to curl in…fear? For a moment she could imagine both Severus and Lily walking hand-in-hand down a path following a breadcrumb trail, towards a hidden house in the woods that she would never be able to rescue them from. She saw as Harry opened his mouth to speak but stopped because Mr. Khan was crossing the road with his dog to greet them.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” Mr. Khan said with a wave, before gesturing to the gorse behind them. “And my goodness does that need a trim.”

Despite her initial worries, Kit forgot about the matter of the mysterious invisible house soon enough. Real life resumed at breakneck speed, with the twins both fully immersed in their individual school settings and Petunia breaking into her newest role of being a teenager with her mood swings and an overly full social calendar. Lily and Severus rarely gave the steadily-growing hedge a second glance, and no one else mentioned it, which helped Kit relax about the entire situation. Perhaps it was a fluke? Or just a shared overactive imagination? Nothing else odd had occurred during those times, except…twice she came across a new face in the neighborhood that she couldn’t recall having ever moved in. The man was middle-aged, had sandy hair and round brown eyes, and wore a pleasant enough expression, but there was something about him…perhaps the way he had glanced at them or the way he had afforded the children a smile as they passed? It was something that made the back of her neck prickle, but Kit never thought much of it. People did often think Lily and Severus were sweet, provided they weren’t at each other’s throats at the time of observation…

Besides, she figured, I’ll likely see him again at the next council meeting and can make the proper introductions then. Maybe even offer a Victoria sponge as a welcoming present, the same way their own neighbors had when they had first moved in.

It wasn’t until Severus had another episode that the matter proved relevant. In retrospect, the whole incident had been entirely her fault. Although Kit had initially thought that she’d already be better prepared for the next time Severus had another epileptic attack, she knew she had also been far too complacent. St. Mungo’s had prescribed to them a new set of experimental medications — potions, she had to practice under her breath — not even a month past and so far it had been working wonderfully. Severus hadn’t had a fit since, and it had been all too easy to be lulled into a false sense of security.

“Mum. Mum.” Severus said. They had once more been on the school run and were making their way back home in time for Severus’ own lessons. Something about the way Severus called her made Kit’s blood run cold, and when she turned, she was just in time to catch him before he fell to the pavement, his hands already curled up against his chest and his body rigid in her hold.

“Oh. Oh!” Kit exclaimed, her panic momentarily making her forget just what she had to do. She lowered Severus to the ground on his side as gently as she could, while unwinding the scarf from around her neck to pillow his head with. Overhead, a tree branch cracked as though struck by lightning and made a nesting thrush squawk in alarm. She could hear it, the loud humming of magic as it circled through the air, invisible against the bright autumn sky, but no less destructive than a localized hurricane. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her heartbeat pounded in her ears and she crouched close to the ground by Severus, placing a hand on his back to comfort him and to make sure he was still breathing. She counted the seconds with each shuddering inhale and exhale.

One minute.

“You’re doing wonderfully, darling,” she spoke to her son although she knew he couldn’t hear her. Severus was staring right through her, his eyelids fluttering and his limbs jerking in uncoordinated movements. Nearby, a bush exploded in a shower of twigs and flowers and, closer to her, a streetlamp shattered, raining glass and sparks onto the asphalt. It was still quite early in the morning and Kit only hoped that no one would pass by and see them. It was hard enough to explain epilepsy as a condition; attempting to explain why things were bursting into flames or melting or being thrown around nearby was an additional complication that even she herself could hardly come to terms with most times—

“I say, is he all right!”

Two minutes.

“He’s all right!” Kit exclaimed. Whoever it was, she didn’t want him nearby. St. Mungo’s had been clear about the possible risks, and the people at the Ministry were a difficult bunch to speak with on most days. “He has epilepsy but…we have it under control.”

“I can call emergency services…” the man offered. He was standing just behind her, but had not attempted to come nearer following her statement. “Shall I—?”

“No, it’s all right. It’s—” A particularly brutal force of magic hit her like a tight-fisted punch to the shoulder, and Kit yelped in pain as it caused her to off-balance and nearly land on top of Severus.

“Careful!” The man grabbed her arm and pulled her away before she caused any further damage to her son. Three minutes. She mustn’t lose count. She turned to thank the man with the full intention to also force him away from her when she realized that she had come face to face with the affable-looking stranger she had been seeing around the neighborhood. He regarded her closely with wide brown eyes.

“Did he cause that?” the man asked, his voice having dropped down to a whisper. “Is he…is he a wizard?”

Kit’s eyes widened in surprise. Wizard. That word still sent chills down her spine, especially now that they knew it meant more than just a word. It meant an entire world that her youngest children belonged in but that she, Harry, and Petunia could only exist on the fringes of. They had never encountered a magical person outside of the vicinity of St. Mungo’s or Diagon Alley before, and truth be told she had never expected to, least of all in their own neighborhood. Wizards seemed content to live within their own communities, and living among non-magical people – Muggles, she reminded herself – was a risk they weren’t willing to take.

As if proving a point, Severus’ magic whipped around once more and beheaded several of Mr. Timmons’ prized Ecuadorian roses, making Kit squeak in alarm.

“He’s…he is, yes,” Kit managed to say, quickly regaining her bearings. She glanced once more at her wristwatch – four minutes – before shifting her attention once more to her son. Severus’ movements seemed to have slowed, and the howling of the magic had been significantly reduced, leaving her with a faint ringing in her ears. Quickly, she knelt by her son’s side, relieved to see that he had already started blinking and some color had returned to his cheeks.

“Sweetheart? Well done. You’re all right, Severus. Mummy’s here.” She brushed Severus’ sweaty hair away from his forehead. Severus seemed to not have heard her, but that was a normal occurrence. Kit just had to make sure to get them somewhere safe…somewhere where she could contact St. Mungo’s…but their house was at least two blocks away…

“I live nearby. My wife…she’s a witch.” The man said, and Kit fought to keep the irrational fear crawling up the sides of her belly at bay. She had never once been alone around the magical community before, and she felt more than slightly vulnerable at the prospect. But she had to get Severus to the doctor – Healers – per their agreed protocol. It was too risky not to.

“You’re Muggle, aren’t you?” the man said, seemingly sensing her fear. His tone was warm around the edges. “You don’t have to be afraid…I’m a Muggle as well. We’re fairly new to this neighborhood and haven’t really had a chance to meet—”

The temptation to give in to his offer was great. Severus had already closed his eyes and seemingly drifted off and would need to carried, and Kit didn’t want to risk hurting him by attempting to do it herself. She decided if the man ended up being dangerous, she had more than enough weapons stashed in her pockets that would aid in their escape. Hairpins, for instance.

“Yes, all right, yes, please.” She forced her trepidation down her throat. No matter her fear, she had to put Severus first. “We just need to contact St. Mungo’s.”

“Through the Floo? Or do you have other means of contacting them?” The man knelt beside Severus, gently touching his back. “Is he all right like this? May I carry him?”

Kit gave her consent and watched as the man lifted her son up with care. She saw as Severus lean into his chest, huddling into his warmth. He was always cold after a seizure. She hurried to shed her sweater to place on her son.

“All right, here we are then. Poor mite’s all tuckered out.” The man said as Severus settled in his arms. He gestured with his head. “Follow me. My house isn’t far.”

The man walked with an easy ambling stride, and it wasn’t long before she could recognize their own path home. Kit kept one hand on Severus’ knee as a precaution. When they came to the Pintels’ house, she was startled to realize that the man was taking a sharp turn to the right – right into the gorse bush that had seemingly grown bushier and pricklier in the past weeks.

“Wait!” she gasped, halting by instinct and pulling on the man’s arm before he walked himself and her son into a hedge. But to her surprise, the man kept going, taking her along in stride. The gorse disappeared and a path had opened in front of them seemingly by…well…magic.

“Apologies for not warning you sooner.” The man looked sheepish. “My wife cast a spell over the house, you see, but it lets me through as I need to. I wasn’t sure if it would have let you pass if you hadn’t been holding on…”

They were very much still within their neighborhood. Kit could see both the Cole and Pintel houses on either side of the space. When she glanced back, the opening was still there, a narrow gap where the hedge used to be – or rather, appeared to be. In front of them, at the end of the path, stood a house pretty much identical to the rest of the neighborhood in structure and shape…only it was made of white brick and had a green door with a silver knocker in the shape of a massive eagle-lion hybrid (gryphon, she could hear Harry tell her; he was less fearful of the possibilities of the magical world than her, but she suspected it was in large part due to the existence of the mythical creatures he had always been so fascinated with) in flight.

Kit’s hands shook as the man hurried up the steps, and before he could even knock, the door flew open, revealing a medium-built woman with eyes as dark and as sharp as flint. She was only slightly taller than Kit herself, and her glossy brown hair was tied back in a neat ponytail. Her clothes were a strange mix: she was wearing a plaid shirt of light brown and navy blue tucked into a high-waisted blue skirt that stopped at her knees, which seemed fine on its own, but she had also thrown what seemed to be a moth-eaten robe with gilded edges and that also smelled slightly singed over the whole ensemble. She seemed to be in her mid-forties, but had the air of one that had settled into her age wonderfully, and one that seemed to be quite formidable. Her eyes widened at the sight of them.

“I saw the magic flare from here. I thought you were being attacked! Are you all right?” the woman asked her husband, who nodded with the patience of someone who had long resigned himself to being henpecked and fussed over. “Who is this?”

“My son.” Kit spoke up, half-surprised she could even manage to find her voice at all. She was still reeling from once more having entered the parallel reality that the magical world existed in. She would never get used to it. “My name is Kathleen Evans. My son, Severus…he has a condition. Epilepsy. It caused the…” The word caught on her tongue but she managed to say it all the same, “magical flare up. No one was hurt, but I need to have St. Mungo’s look him over, and your husband…”

“I offered to take them here, dear,” the man finished for her. “The boy needs Healers, and this is the fastest way.”

The woman shook her head, but looked unsurprised. “I was wondering how he could see the house. Him and that little girl. I thought the wards were compromised. Never realized there were others in this area.” She pinned Kit with a glare. “And you are…?”

“Their mother. And a Muggle,” Kit replied, bristling slightly at the woman’s tone. She certainly wasn’t as friendly or accommodating as her husband! The woman, however, seemed indifferent to her defensive reaction.

“Lovely. That means the Ministry will descend upon here and have us engage in the clearing process. I do hope you weren’t seen. I’d hate to Obliviate anyone before noon…”

Kit felt herself blush in annoyance. "Severus isn't able to control his fits and they are able to happen anywhere at any time. I'd appreciate if you were more compassionate about his condition. If anything, it would have fallen to me to help control it."

She wondered how much she could get away with snapping at their host. She didn’t want to stay any longer than she had to, but she had to get assistance for Severus first and foremost. “And I apologize for causing you any inconvenience, but I do hope we can assist my son first before we continue to discuss anything else? I’d be more than happy to extend payment for any expenses we may incur while under your care…”

“Oh, don’t insult me, my dear, it’s far too early for that.” The woman said, her tone mild but already with a gleam of warning. “Let’s not get off on the wrong foot, especially since we seem to be neighbors.” She turned to her husband. “Darling, could you place him on the settee? I’ve got a fire going in the sitting room and that will be the fastest way to call St. Mungo’s.” She turned once more to Kit just as soon as her husband passed through the doorway with Severus still asleep in his arms. “Is he assigned to Smethwyck? Or someone else?”

“Er, Tooting, actually.” Kit supplied, craning her head to keep her son within her sights. Hippocrates Smethwyck was one of many Healers assigned to Severus’ case, frankly because his condition was an ongoing medical mystery, but he rarely had time to look in for routine checks. St. Mungo’s seemed to rotate their best Healers for him, but for incidents like these, it was difficult to get a hold of any of them unless they waited for a few hours. “They usually check his magical levels and decide whether he should be kept for observation.”

“Tooting?” The woman seemed to wrinkle her nose in disgust. “That toad couldn’t charm his way out of a paper bag. I’ll have Smethwyck look at your boy. He should be finished with his third cup of tea right about now. He'll come or he'll have to face my wrath.” She stepped aside to let Kit pass. “Come inside then, Kathleen Evans. Don’t just stand there like some Confunded Erkling. We'll get your shoulder looked at as well. You'll be unable to move it in the morning if you don't.”

(Her shoulder was, in fact, already in immense pain from where it had been struck by Severus' magic, but Kit had been sure to not have even alluded to it. Upon hearing it mentioned, it took everything she had in order to not gawp at the older woman).

“I’m sorry but…could I just possibly know your name?” Kit asked. The morning had already proven to be quite impossible and Kit knew she needed to regain a semblance of control over the situation before she immersed herself even further. She was already dangerously close to being entirely overwhelmed and she would never forgive herself if she ended up being admitted to hospital herself that same day. “Who…who are you?”

At this, the woman had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, of course. I had assumed my husband had already told you, but then we don’t usually make a habit of inviting strangers into our home before we we’re properly introduced…”

There it was again, the vague insult. Kit wasn’t sure whether the woman angered or intrigued her more. With her and Severus being at her mercy at the moment, she decided it was more intrigue than anything. She was unlike any of the other witches and wizards that they had met at the hospital or around Diagon, who viewed living among Muggles – let alone marrying them – as Something That Shouldn’t Be Done. But here this woman was, and in their own neighborhood, no less.

“My husband is Theodore. Ted, for short.” The woman said. She smiled this time, but it was more a smirk than anything. “And I am Andromeda Tonks, formerly of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.”

#my fic #evans!severus #au #snape #kit evans

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nahoyasboyfriend · 2 months

Text

Helping hand

Warnings: shameless smut, handjob, unprotected sex, rough sex.

Word count: 2.4k

Tagging: @doll3tt33 @fear-is-truth @coentinim

A/N: this is literally pure filth. I'm not sure what possessed me to write this, but I did. Sorry for any typos or bad writing.

Staying up late with Kyle had become sort of a routine. Sleeping didn't always come easy to you, and getting Kyle to bed without you was always a struggle. Sitting with your legs crossed on the bed, you ponder over what you should do. It couldn't be too loud and it had to be something you were certain he'd enjoy. You glance at him for a moment, he was laying down on the floor watching something on his ipad, so he was occupied for now.

You grabbed your laptop, blankly staring at the screen while you skimmed over your options. Then it hit you— a movie! You could put on a movie. After five minutes of scrolling, you decide to put on a cheesy comedy. you were more of a horror movie enjoyer, but you figured Kyle wouldn't like it. He was a sensitive boy, now more than ever, and you didn't want to stress him out. Especially after the whole being brought back to life ordeal.

"Kyle, honey, come here," you gently call out, placing the laptop on the edge of the bed so you could lay down. You could hear the creak of the floorboards as he slowly ambled to you. He laid down next to you, throwing his arm over you to pull you closer. Stuck in his hold, your hand slapped around until you found the edge of the covers, slinging it over the two of you. You settled in, squirming around until you were comfortable, and then you pressed play.

The plan had been to watch the movie, and then head to bed, but that was ruined when not even ten minutes in he kept shifting. “Ky, what's wrong?” You whisper, tearing your eyes away from the screen to look at him. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth and his eyebrows knit together in discomfort. “H-hurts,” he murmured. You sat up, gently removing the cover from the two of you. “Where does it hurt, kyle?”

He propped himself up until he was sitting on his knees. Confused, you watched silently wondering what he was trying to show you. Maybe he had scraped his leg, or he had a bruise. His lack of motor skills was a major downside of being frankensteined back together. "Here," he grunted, looking down at his pants. You followed his gaze until you were meant with the obvious bulge in his pants. Oh.

Unsure of what to do, you just sat there. Shit. Should you help him? Would helping him be the right thing to do? Seemingly annoyed at your lack of response, he took your hand placing it over his groin. He whined at the desperately needed contact, rolling his hips. "Touch, p-please."

This quickly snaps you out of your thoughts, it’s hard to worry about the consequences when he’s so needy. "Are you sure?" You ask, just to check, accidentally pushing his boundaries was never something you wanted to do. He nods, and you start to unzip his pants. Despite the initial struggle, you're finally able to get his pants down, revealing the blue boxers he had on underneath. His precum stains the fabric, making a sizable dark patch.

"Poor boy, you must be so worked up" you coo, running a finger over the length of it. Kyle's pupils swallow the already deep brown of his eyes as he watches you. Meeting his intense gaze is enough to make you look down again, goosebumps pricking at your skin.

With more zeal than before, your fingers hook the band of his boxers, slowly pulling them down. His cock bounces free, hitting his stomach, and you have to stare for a moment. The tip is flushed pink and precum drips from the slit like a broken faucet. Your eyes slowly trail up his body, from his stomach, to the scar wrapped around his neck, till you're finally looking him in the face. His cheeks are ruddy, his lips parted ever so slightly, and he has this look in his eyes like nothing matters but you at the moment. Maintaining eye contact, you gingerly wrap your fingers around it.

He lets out an airy sigh, that you assume is of relief. You carefully start to move your hand up and down. You watch his eyes slowly flutter shut, and revel in the way pathetic whines begin to fall out of his mouth. To ease the friction, you let a glob of spit dribble onto the tip, using your hand to coat his entire length in your drool. His cock twitches in your hand. He must be close, you think. You work your hand faster, trying to push him to the edge as quickly as you can, but suddenly he's pulling your hand away, shaking his head.

"n-need you," he mewls, finger latching onto the band your shorts trying to tug them down. Throwing all caution to the wind, you oblige. You yank down your shorts and panties, throwing them on the floor. You crawl to him, tossing your legs over his thighs to straddle his lap. His hands fly to your hips, rucking up your oversized shirt to reveal your chest. He stares at you with wide, pleading eyes, silently begging for permission. Once you give a quiet go ahead, he’s instantly taking your nipple into his mouth. It's an odd sensation. His tongue is cool against your warm skin.

You let out a soft whine, and lift a hand to cradle the back of his head. You card your fingers through his hair, while you mutter soft praises, gently rocking yourself against his aching cock, but not letting it slip inside. His arms were wrapped around your middle, pulling you closer to him, like he wanted to be in your skin. You both stay like this for a while, soaking each other in. While it wasn't enough to get you off, you decided that was fine, and instead focused on getting him off. You were trying to make him feel good after all. You could help yourself later.

You were sure he could have came like this, and he seemed to realize that too because he reluctantly wrenched himself away from mouthing at your boob to line his aching cock with your slit. But he was clueless and couldn't quite get it so with a loving smile, you gently took his hand in yours and directed it to where it needed to go.

You slowly sink onto his cock, taking him inch by inch. You got about halfway before you decided to take a second and let yourself adjust to the size. Placing his hands on your hips, he forced you down. You let a startled gasp because of the abrupt fullness. The stretch burns, and he doesn't let you adjust before he begins to buck up into you.

You rest your hands on his shoulders for support, slightly digging your nails in to deal with the ache. You can barely gain your bearings with the way he forces you to bounce on his cock. The pain slowly melts into syrupy sweet pleasure, and everything quickly becomes overwhelming. The sound of his skin on yours, the feeling of his cold tongue on your skin, and the pangs of pleasure shooting through you.

You crash your mouths together because even if you don't want to admit it. You're just as attached to him as he is to you, and the urge to get closer than you already were was becoming unbearable. This kiss is awkward, but you can't bring yourself to mind. Your teeth clack together and your noses keep bumping. His tongue curiously prods into your mouth. Still, you melt into him, letting him explore every inch of you for as long as he'd like. His spit tastes earthy, and surprisingly it isn't that bad. You pull away to breathe, and he follows, pitifully chasing after you like a lost puppy.

His powerful thrusts have devolved into quick, shallow bunny humps, so you take it upon yourself to finish what he started. You place your hands on his chest lightly pushing him back. He doesn't resist, letting himself fall onto his elbows. He looks confused, kiss-swollen lips pulled into the cutest pout. It makes you want to smooch it off of his face. You lift yourself up, and it seems like you're about to pull off, but before his hands could rush back to your hips, you slam back down down.

The sound he lets out is guttural and loud. Your hand slaps over his mouth. He blinks, puzzled. You pull your hand away to press a finger against your lips. “Be quiet, they'll hear us,” you whisper, glancing behind you to make sure nobody is at the door. In the blink of an eye, you're not on top of him anymore. You are on your back now. Stunned, you stare vacantly at the ceiling. His hands grip your hips, sheathing himself back into the warmth of your cunt (when did he learn how to do that without you?)

He starts up that unforgiving pace again, ramming into you so hard the bed is wobbling beneath you. All you can do is take it. Silently praying that your bed will make it through the night. He effortlessly brushes that spongy spot inside of that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. you're quivering beneath him, unraveling like a ball of yarn in his hands. Pleasure sweeping any coherent thoughts away like a hurricane. That familiar ache builds in your stomach. Your cunt clenches around him, begging for release. Everything feels so good, it verges on painful. Your hands latch onto the sheets, holding on for dear life.

Kyle leans down to press wet, slimey kisses on your clavicle, lightly dragging his teeth against your skin. A few more brutal thrusts, and you're digging your nails into his back, softly whining. Your orgasm crashes over you like a current. You bite your lip to muffle the moans that threaten to come out, blinking away unshed tears. After your orgasm subsides, you're instantly being ushered into another one. “s too much, ky, I can't take another,” you hiccup, pressing a hand against Kyle's chest in a feeble attempt at pushing him off. You don't know if he just brushes you off on purpose, or if he did it without realizing because in spite of your pitiful request. His pace sped up.

He's grunting in your ear now, you can feel the hot puffs of air tickling your cheek. Plump tears roll down your face, your body trembling uncontrollably. He cums deep inside you, a blossom of warmth filling you up, but he doesn't stop rutting into you. Fucking it in further. You let out woeful, little squeaks. You're sniveling, and your poor, aching cunt weeps. You feel your second release rushing towards you, and all you can do is brace yourself. He's fucking you like he despises you, and if you didn't know anymore you would have been convinced you were his sworn enemy with the way he was bullying your cunt.

Your orgasm hits you like a strike to gut, somehow more intense than the last. Your back arches off the bed so far that someone might think you're possessed. The bitter taste of iron pervades your mouth. You didn't realize how hard you'd bitten your lip trying to be quiet. (Which is turning out to be an impossible feat, but at least you're trying.) you're gushing around him. Your arousal spills down onto the bed beneath you. You can feel the sheets sticking to your skin, and you remind yourself to lay down a towel or something next time. A few more agonizing seconds pass, and he's finally pulling out of you.

He collapses on top of you, and you take a moment to collect yourself. The icky feeling of laying in a pool of bodily fluids is the only reason you haven't passed out yet.

“Kyle, we gotta get up and take a shower,” you mumble, your body aches and your bones feel like jelly, but you can't go to sleep in these conditions.

He grumbles for a second. “sleep.”

you sigh, “i know, but we're all dirty now. We gotta clean up.” begrudgingly, he peels himself off of you. You get up rather slowly because of how unsteady you were on your feet. You snatch some clothes up for you and Kyle. You haul yourself to the bathroom, dragging Kyle behind you. You turned on the shower, letting the water run until it was warm enough to get in. “C’mon in,” you utter, stepping into the tub. You watch Kyle sluggishly walk to you. He looked so tired. Poor baby.

“Do you want me to help you bathe?” you inquire, quietly. He doesn't respond, just follows you in. He can barely keep his eyes open. You decide it's easier to just wash him instead of trying to wake him up. You grab a washcloth, apply some body wash, and massage it in till it lathers up. You start with his arms, and you can't help but follow all the veins as you travel your way up. Then you moved on to his chest. You could feel the bumps from where his head was sewn back on, your heart ached for him. He didn't deserve such an untimely death. You frown, shaking away those thoughts. He doesn't need your pity.

The rest goes relatively fast. He listens to your request to lift his legs and turn around, so you could reach his back. You speed through washing yourself, so you can get back to bed as soon as you possibly can. Once you’re done, you hop out and dry yourself off. As usual, you help Kyle dry off too. The two of you shuffle off to bed clean and content. You toss a blanket over your sullied sheets, you'll wash them later.

Collapsing onto the bed, you let out a relieved sigh. Sweet, sweet relaxation. Kyle follows suit, pulling you onto his chest. You grinned, silently enjoying his unending clinginess. “L-love you,” he murmured, and you feel a warmth beginning to bloom in your chest. “I love you too, Kyle,” you whisper. You don't know if he truly understands what he just said to you, but you choose not to think too hard about it. Scooting closer to him, you feel the tiredness hit you all at once. The comfortable arms of sleep luring you in.

#kyle spencer smut #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer x you #he's my baby boy #ahs coven #american horror story #kit walker x reader #kai anderson x reader #tate langdon x reader #evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters smut #jadesfic

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