#-of the fit stays white or grey or black.

[soaked-ghost]

best part of having a blorbo is playing dress up with them :}

[angelsworks]

Goldilocks and the Four Bears

I haven’t written for the cod fandom yet so all the 141 might be terribly out of character. In fact I haven’t written for a while. I appreciate all the people that still read my work and continue to support me. I hope you’re all doing well :)

Poly!141 x reader

Masterlist -> Here (will be made later :))

Warnings: 18+, mature themes, descriptions of torture, injuries and mistreatment, etc

Summary: After escaping from your last mission that had gone terribly wrong, your stumble through the woods leads you to a log cabin.

It was snowing. Fucking snowing.

Any belief in a deity had been long since crushed after the last few months. Well you thought it had been months. Your captors (a small but deadly terrorist group) had failed to provide you with your own calendar and clock. Much like how they had failed to provide you with new clothes to replace your own, that had been ripped and torn and become tattered to the eye.

It was stolen clothes you now wore as you made your escape. Trudging slowly through the already six inch snow, your thoughts trailed to the fresh snow adding to the existing six inches. The size 12 pair of boots were rubbing at your heels with increasing vigour. Leading you to contemplate if bruised skin could blister or not. The guard you’d killed as part of your escape had been good for one thing. Or three things actually. The ill-fitting boots, a loose pair of combat trousers and long sleeved compression shirt.

As you made your way through the terrain you felt a cold chill steadily working it’s way up your trouser leg. Slowly, spreading across the flesh, affecting any skin that wasn’t in direct contact with the trouser material. It made you wish you’d waited for a guard more similar to your stature. While the compression shirt was better than nothing, it was still thin. The flimsy seeming material now doing little to ward off the cold.

Maybe the sudden awareness of the less than ideal weather conditions wasn’t down to your stolen clothes, but the sudden loss of adrenaline. How long had you been running now? Well trudging desperately through the snow, making your way further and further into the thick forrest and fauna.

It was hard to try and map where you’d been, what direction you’d walked in and where you’d come from. It was all white. Every tree looked the same. Every incline became and decline and you’d become disoriented.

Months of abuse, of torture, ofpain. All ignored for a few short hours as you willed your aching body forward. Through trees and snow and stone. Through anything that would put you at a greater distance from them, from Miasma.

They hadn’t transported you. At least you were mostly sure. When you blacked out, you woke in the same dingy cell, on the same dingy floor. Only covered in more bruises or cuts. So you hoped you were where this all started. In Slovenia.

You’d done solo missions before. It was easier that way. One man in, one man out. No one to turn on you or leak information. With Gunner in your ear, nothing ever went wrong. Until it did.

Your objective was to gather intel. To stay under the radar before formulating the next attack. While sneaking around you’d learned just how large their operation was. In turn you’d also learned just how large their base was.

The small outpost hid underground levels. That became clear after your covert operation was blown and you were dragged down to the very heart of the multi-storey building.

Each day (if that’s what you could call them) gave you no indication of the time of day or how much time had passed. They made sure of that. In fact it was the first time in months you’d seen the light of day.

The light that you noticed was now fading apparently, as you looked desperately up into the sky. Grey clouds had rolled in, covering the majority of the sky. The sun was still peaking out from the dense overcast that was rolling further forward. Soon the sky would be covered and the snow fall would quicken.

A few miles back you were struck that no one from Miasma had followed you. You’d expected armed guards to be shooting at you and angry dogs to be tearing at your ankles. Yet you’d had no chase.

Maybe they knew you would get nowhere in the climate. That you’d be weakened by the terrain and from the violence you’d endured. They were right of course. But you didn’t let it stop you.

Even now as you’d gone further, you still felt the burning desire to survive. Granted it dwindled under the ache of your body and the never ending valley of white before you. But you wanted to live. You wanted your revenge.

The final rays of the sun had been clouded and the snow started to pick up. At least your footprints would be covered under the fresh snow. Not that it mattered if all your footprints lead to was a frozen corpse.

Flexing your fingers, you found yourself wishing for gloves. Your toes were long past numb and every injury you’d endured felt like it was waking up. Old cuts that had turned to scars felt fresh, bruises that had yellowed felt like they’d returned to their starting purple colour. Your felt heavy. You felt dense. You felt tired.

Your desire to drive on had dwindled now. The once raging fire was now only a candle. A candle that was down to its wick. The wax around it long since melted and now it was to its edge. Trying to burn the glue that chained it in place. The image made you crave warmth even more.

Was this it?

All the work you’d put in over the years. From a child you had trained for a mission you didn’t fully understand. A mission that belonged to someone else, to Gunner. He’d turned you into a soldier, his perfect soldier.

Is this how his perfect soldier died?

No it wasn’t.

So despite your blue fingers, numb toes and foggy mind, you push on. Just a little further, you tell yourself. Past these trees, past this stream, past more trees.

Your doubts evaporate when you come upon a clearing. You find a decent space boarded by snow dusted trees from all sides. They stand tall, seemingly acting as natural walls to protect those inside. The grass is covered in undisturbed snow. It’s thick and white and makes you smile.

None of it matter though because sitting in the middle of it all if your salvation.

A log cabin.

You consider the sight to be a mirage. Created from and low blood sugar, dehydration and desperation. But you trudge on, almost to a stumble speed, as you reach for the door handle.

It’s unlocked.

Despite any moral compass telling you that breaking and entering or trespassing is wrong, you ignore it. You’re hurt, aching and this is a last resort.

You close the thick wooden door behind you. Taking note of the copious locks it has. When you move inside the cabin you find that no one’s home. As quietly as you can on stiff legs, you sneak around the house. Trying to wake up the instincts you’d been trained on.

Enter a room, check your surroundings, check again. Don’t assume anywhere is empty. Threats could be hiding around any corner.

So for each room of the ground floor you do just that. Open door, check the rooms, move on. From your searching you’ve found a large living room, a kitchen, a dining room, a toilet some sort of office/drawing room. The decor gives you no clue as to who’s house you’ve invaded. There are no pictures of people, no personal possessions. It feels surreal. And wrong.

To start with you go back to the living room. Using the large fireplace, stockpile of logs and matches, you start a fire.

Again, better sense would tell you to avoid such an action. To avoid alerting anyone of your presence here. But you decide to put sense aside in a bid for survival. If you didn’t get warm soon you were sure you’d be frozen soon.

Next you go to the kitchen. You rifle through the cupboard in an attempt to find something edible. To your surprise you find the place to be well stocked. Even going as far as having fresh milk in the fridge. The sight confuses you. Send alarm bells ringing in your ears.

There are products in the fridge that are in date. Fresh products. Yet no one is home. It doesn’t make sense.

As you empty a can of soup into a pan you realise, it doesn’t need to. You’re happy to play stupid and see this as all some sort of blessing, some miracle.

While the soup cooks you fill a glass with clean, cold water. Relishing in the taste of something fresh. When you’ve downed the first glass you refill it again. This time with an intention to make it last longer.

After the first spoonful you find that you like vegetable soup very much. Almost burning your mouth as you devour it in a few minutes. Immediately it feels as though you’ve been recharged. The warmth from the fire has spread throughout the ground floor, your fingers have warmed around the bowl of soup and your body no longer feels related to a glacier.

The sky only darkens as you sit by the fire. Basking in the warmth and taking a moment to rest for the first time in months. You don’t imagine ever leaving your spot on the floor. But the promise of a bed upstairs has you moving your legs in that direction.

Before your ascent to the second floor, you strip your clothes and hang them on a drying rack you found to the side of the fire. Now left in the nude.

Upstairs you find multiple bedrooms. All almost identical, except for one at the end of the hall. You assume this is the Cabin’s master bedroom as it’s slightly larger than the others. Inside there’s a wardrobe full of clothes, a full length mirror, a TV, some sort of game station, and of course the larger than most bed.

In the mirror you catch sight of yourself. The cuts of course stand out first. From the slight turn you can muster in your neck, you can see large welts and thin cuts, bruises and scrapes, all littering the previously plain skin. From the front and behind, your legs look like a Jackson Pollock original piece.

Capturing various purple and blues surrounded by smaller splodges of green and brown. With the occasional black blob or two to really contrast the overall tone of the piece.

As a child you had a strange infatuation with your bruises. Likening them to a sticker or badge of achievement. They were easy to come by during training. A strange part of you liked the way they looked on your skin. They acted as a log book of the hits you’d taken, the falls you’d taken, any sort of impacts you’d had. They made you feel strong, maybe even proud too.

Staring into the mirror at your body again, it all seems worthless. You knew you were strong before. You didn’t need months as a prisoner to prove it.

You take a few steps forward to properly look at your face. Who stares back must be a stranger. You haven’t let your eyebrows be this out of shape since you were thirteen. You didn’t have that scar above under your chin before. Your eyes were always so bright and vivid. Not lifeless or hollow or so lost.

With newfound energy you take yourself to the nearest bathroom. That just so happens to be the en-suite in the bedroom. It doesn’t surprise you. Nothing about this abandoned, well stocked cabin does anymore.

Instead you shower in one of the nicest bathrooms you’ve been to in a long time.

At first the water has you freezing. Not due to the temperature but because of the fire it lights on your back. Every scrape, every cut, every burn now being cleaned. The cleanse sets your body alight. In a way you feel the heat is helping you to heal. Granted, all you have to show for it is a mixture of blood and grime, floating slowly down the drain. But it’s more than that.

It’s the last few months being scrubbed off your skin. Your wounds and ailments being shown that this is the end. They can heal in peace. You can heal in peace.

So you take your time. Using any products you can find; shampoos, conditioners, body wash, face wash. You’ve acquired a new razor, fresh from the packet. It’s amazing what a difference shaving your legs and various other places can do to your mood. You’ve always preferred removing the body hair. Afterwards the feeling of smooth legs under a thick duvet made all the work worth it.

The final step, bar drying yourself, was brushing tour yellowing and plaque ridden teeth. The minty taste in your mouth feels unfamiliar but it welcomed nonetheless. Wiping your tongue across the now almost pearly-whites you’re happy with how smooth they feel.

Now showered, shaved and dried, you make you way into the bedroom. Finding the wardrobe and drawers to be filled wit strictly masculine clothes. You pick out a pair of boxers and one of the large white t-shirts to sleep in. The shirt dwarfs you in size, looking more like a dress. Not one that you would wear outside though. Not with the black boxers showering through the material, or your hardened nipples making an appearance.

With your towel back in the bathroom and the lights off, you crawl into bed. Letting out the loudest sigh your sore throat could muster. Then quickly falling asleep on the linen.

It was snowing. In fact it was a fucking blizzard.

A barrage of white, dagger-like snowflakes pelted against the four men. The lack of light and the dense haze of the storm made it impossible to see where they were going. They were all thankful for the less than modern compass. Hidden away at the bottom of Jonny’s bag. When he acquired it was unknown. But the four were grateful nonetheless that the Scott had the dated equipment in is kit.

After their week long training they were ready to fall asleep on the nearest surface. The blizzard they now faced was an unexpected one. Nothing on Price’s radar Gad alerted them to such a storm.

They’d just finished their survival training in the mountains when the first snowflake formed. During the rest of their descent it had only worsened.

As the snow around them thickened they trudged on. Becoming more aware of the weight of their kit, ache of their muscles and chill in their bones. These men were tired, hungry and cold.

After more miles and more words of encouragement from Price, Gaz was sure they were close to the safe house now.

Laswell had been kind enough to let them use the safe house after a particularly gruelling training exercise. It would be the closest thing to a holiday the 141 would get this year. Before the worst of the storm it had the Scotsman joking that he would build a snowman outside. An idea quickly shot down by Ghost in the interest of remaining vigilant to an enemies surrounding the house.

While snowmen were out of the question, snowballs were not. Something Ghost found out, twice, in the back of the head. Turning to see an innocent looking Gaz and Soap.

“You’ll regret that when we’re back on base and you two are on shit duty” the balaclava wearing Brit grumbles.

Soap sighs dramatically, “Oh come on Lt. Dinnae be like that, it was only a joke”.

The threat prompts Kyle to add, “It was all Soaps idea, think he should get shit duties on his own.”

Soap gasps feigning offence, “You bleeding clipe, don’t come knocking on my door when you want someone to warm your bed tonight.”

The comment causes the younger man’s face to heat up and laughs to come from the others.

“That if we get there in this blizzard” the captain quips. Trying to keep morale, but refusing to ignore the sinking feeling that they’ve missed the safe house completely.

“How far now?” Gaz asks, determined not to start pestering like an insolent child. Yet equally determined to have a proper meal and get out of his cold clothes.

“Two klicks north, then we should be there.” Soap tells him, loud enough for the others to hear in the now whipping winds.

“It was two klicks north last time someone asked Soap, are you sure you’re reading that right lad?” Price finds himself asking. Despite his rank, his military expertise and all his training agains the elements, it doesn’t make him immune to the cold. Immune to looking forward to sitting by a fire with a cup of tea in his hands.

Laswell wasn’t one to be stingy with safe house stock. From previous safe houses he’d been to that she had set up, they’d been a home away from home. Proper bedrooms, running water, stocked shelves. Price found himself ready to welcome anything that had four walls, a roof and could shelter him and his men from the storm.

“Two klicks north Captain, I’m sure”. Jonny confirms.

Sure enough, through the dense curtain of blizzard, light emerges. A gentle glow against the black nights sky. The closer they get, the clearer the house becomes.

A log cabin.

A big one at that. The sight is inviting enough to bring a smile to the men’s faces.

“Laswell’s outdone herself this time, fuckin yaldy” soap practically exclaims. Pushing forward to the front of the pack, in an effort to get in first.

“Hold it Jonny,” Simons voice is quiet through the mask, but harsh enough that the others can hear.

Ghost points to the chimney, “someone’s here”.

Sure enough as the others look up, they too see the plumes of smoke, gently rising from the brick chimney.

“Another team captain?” Gaz finds himself asking, while reaching for the know hidden in his thigh holster.

Price finds himself doing the same, “No, we’re the only ones in the country.”

The tension in the air is thick, rivals the thick snow pelting down on them. The four of them stand motionless, a short distance from the front door. Covered head to toe in winter gear, a layer of the snowstorm attached to anything it can stick to.

“Right, there’s only one door. I’ll lead. We’ll secure the ground floor first. Stay silent, we do this quietly.” Price commands. The men nod, moving to grasp their various knives. Following their captain as he moves to the front of the cabin.

With an almost inaudible creek, Price turns the handle of the door. Pushing the oak forward, grateful that it seems to glide over the wooden floors. Allowing him and his men to breach the property without alerting its inhabitants.

Price enters the living room first, signalling for the others to spread out and search the rest of the floor. He does indeed find a crackling fire, yet no one man’s it. The warmth is welcomed, but for the time being he ignores any desire to sit near it and warm himself.

His attention moves to the drying rack set up beside the fire. Upon further inspection of the items he finds combat trousers, a compression t shirt and a pair of large boots, size 12 he gathers from the label on the tongue. The clothes are still damp to the touch, leading him to infer that the intruder arrived a short time ago.

The badge on the arm of the shirt catches his eye. He rips it off the Velcro and examines it up close. An unknown insignia, contractor perhaps? Some new found terrorist group? Price doesn’t know. It’s not one he’s come across before.

Simon searches the kitchen. The space is a decent size, dark too. He blends into the shadows as he checks the space for any sign of life. He finds a empty soup can on one of the worktops. Turning to the sink he notices a single glass and pan siting there.

Once finished in his search he creeps back to the living room. Finding his captain there, along with a stoic looking soap and serious looking Gaz.

Price raises his hand to Simon, showcasing the fabric insignia to him. With cold eyes Ghost runs over the stitchwork. Mind running through the possible groups it could be associated with.

“Any ideas?” Price asks in a hushed voice.

Ghosts silence is a loud enough answer for the group. No

“Whoever they are haven’t been here long. Their clothes are still damp. Large boots, size 12.” Price goes through the details he’s uncovered.

“Men’s?” Gaz asks.

“Most likely”.

“There’s a pan in the kitchen. They’ve had soup. Only one glass.” Ghost reels off.

“We don’t know who we’re dealing with, could be anyone. Stay vigilant. Be prepared for a fight. I’ll take the lead upstairs. Shout if you find anything.” Price commands.

The team follow him single file up the stairs. Weapons at the ready as the sneak up the steps. Footsteps light on the wooden floor.

Price takes the first door, Gaz the second, Ghost the third and Soap the last door at the end of the hallway.

While three of the 141 find their rooms to be empty, Soap stops in the doorway. After almost silently twisting the door handle and letting it slide open, he stands in silence. What he didn’t expect to find was a girl sleep in the master bed, a pretty girl to be exact.

The Scotsman finds himself lost for words. He expected to have to fight someone of his stature. Maybe larger. He expected to walk away with a bruise or two. He feels lost on what to do. Should he wake her? Should he leave her?

Meanwhile the others have gathered in the hallway. Sharing a concerned glance at their teammate.

“What is it soap?” Ghost asked quietly.

“It’s a lass. A bonnie lass at that.” He tells them. Wonder in his tone as he stares at the sleeping girl. Watching as her chest rises and falls at a steady rate. Completely unaware of the four men that have entered the house.

The men collectively frown, walking further to investigate themselves. Sure enough, after they pass the threshold of the master bedroom, they too stand frozen. A girl. Not a man, or group of men. A girl, sleeping in their bed, in their log cabin.

Completely unaware.

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

Welcome Home | Azriel x Cassian x Female Reader | One shot 3k

After a mission away your bat boys return to the comfort of home and their beautiful mate. The three of you have a lot of catching up to do, but first, a bath.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content & language, slight d/s themes, pet names, dirty talk, wing play,p in v, anal, dp, bath sex, shower sex.

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Cassian - Can Yaman, Azriel - Avan Jojia images from Getty.

Created for @polyacotarweek prompt 2 - comfort

Masterlist | Poly Fics | Azriel | Cassian

Azriel and Cassian had been gone for a week this time, somewhere unknown, they had left from the roof of the House of Wind, their Illyrian leathers freshly polished.

You’d waved them off, tears in your eyes, unsure of when you would see your.boys again. 

But tonight was the night, as the candles that decked the corridors of the House had extinguished behind you, swirling shadows had tangled at your feet, whispering to you. Now it wouldn't be long until their Master was beside you as well. 

The clock on the mantle ticked around to 3am when Cassian finally cracked open the door to your rooms. Slowly, inching into the dark room, his wings caught on the door as they dragged tiredly behind him. 

Azriel followed, dropping his own pack to the floor and kicking off his boots as quietly as possible. 

“Sweetheart?” Cassian called softly, while Azriel’s shadows spread out, disappearing into the gloom in search of you. 

Creeping up the side of the chaise like ivy, they reached your shoulder and curled around your ear, tickling you awake. 

You'd tried to stay awake, slumped on the sofa, waiting for them, until sleep overtook you, lulling you down into the crouched position they found you in now, curled in on yourself. 

“Boys?” you mumbled, sleep still clinging to you even as you tried to drag your eyes open, “You’re home.”

Cassian smiled, kneeling in front of you and cupping your cheeks in his hands and kissing you on the forehead. “We’re home, sweetheart, all in one piece.” 

“Are you hurt? Do you need anything?” Your brain slowly kicked into gear, worry clouding your joy at the General’s return, hands running up his arms to feel for any bandages. “Is Azriel with you?” 

“I’m here, baby, and we’re safe and well.” He ran a hand up your bare arm and then kissed you too, quickly and chastly before pulling back to run his eyes over you, checking that you too were well, fed and happy. 

“Good, my boys,” you reached both hands out, touching their cheeks in turn and pulling them to you, “are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“We’re just dusty and muddy. I could do with a wash and I really want to kiss you again right now.” Cassian laughed, sitting back on his heels so he could look at you properly. 

His head was heavy with what looked like caked mud, his usual long waves weighed down in limp grey tendrils around his face. Even the little lines of his cheeks and eyes seemed to be picked out with it. You leaned down, your lips fitting against his perfectly, as if you were made to kiss each other forever. Despite his clothes and the dust settling on the carpet, his lips were soft as they moved over yours, picking up where he left off when you said goodbye.

Azriel hadn’t fared any better, but he was quietly watching you, those hazel eyes of his roving over your own body, making sure you were safe too. 

Reluctantly, you pulled away. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You sat up, pushing your blanket to the floor. Cassian kicked it away and Azriel scooped you up into his arms.

You ran your hands into his hair, picking out debris with a laugh. Even their leathers was filthy, the white dust of limestone shining against the pitch black leather.

“What happened to you?” You lay your head against his shoulder and began fiddling with the straps of his armour as he led the way to the large bathing room. 

“Best not to ask,” Cassian grumbled, “Blame Lucien if you have to blame someone, setting fires and cracking walls. We all got showered in it. You can imagine how upset Rhys is!” He chuckled. 

You giggled too, remembering Rhy’s face the last time his pristine suit got dirty. Azriel jostled you in his arms, “he was very upset.” 

Cassian rolled his eyes, turning into the bathing room and letting his wings flare a little, dust and debris falling from between them too, the veins and creases of his delicate wings filled with soot. 

“You two should rinse off before you get anywhere near the tub,” you pointed at the cubicle in the corner of the bathing room. You’d asked Rhys for one after he’d had a similar thing specially commissioned for Nesta, it stopped your beautiful sunken tub from getting filled with mud and dust after your boys got back from training, missions, daily life - how they managed to get so dirty just existing was beyond you. 

As an incentive you began unbuckling Azriel’s leathers further, letting them drop to the floor, before you could turn to help Cassian too the male was behind you, his hands on your hips. 

“Are you going to join us?” He hummed in your ear, the feel of his chest vibrating against your back, his powerful arms surrounding you sent heat straight to your core. 

“It’ll be very lonely without you, baby.” Azriel’s hands were on you now too, pulling up the sheer nightgown you’d worn, hoping for this very moment when two sets of battle weary hands would strip you back out of it. 

“There she is,” Cassian’s hands moved up from your stomach to cup your breasts, your nipples hardening. Azriel bent forwards, latching his lips onto one nipple and then the next, flicking and teasing them until they ached. 

You let your head drop back against Cassian’s chest as Azriel moved lower, kissing down your stomach until he knelt on the floor at your feet. Scarred hands ran up your legs, his thumbs tickling the inside of your thighs, tantalisingly close to wear your silk underwear clung to your slick folds. 

His hooked his fingers into the band of your underwear and stopped there, staring up at you. 

Cassian’s large hand crept up over your sternum and wrapped loosely around your throat, holding your head back. Despite his gentle hold your breath stuttered out of you. 

“Good girl, ask him nicely if he’ll take them off for you.” 

He let go, only enough for him to use his thumb on your chin to tilt your head down to look at the famed Illyrian warrior, his wings spread out around him, his eyes glowing in the faelight. 

“Puh-please take them off, Az.” 

He began sliding them down your legs, carefully lifting your feet in turn and then throwing them behind his back. 

As he stood he let his fingers dance up between your legs, barely skimming over the slick that stuck your thighs together, before laying his hand over Cassian’s and claiming your mouth. 

“We missed you so much,” Cassian crooned, pressing wet kisses up the side of your neck, “couldn’t wait to get home to our little sweetheart.” 

Your heart was pounding, the thick heat of the streaming bathroom only making your body slicker and hotter. Cassian sucked your ear lobe between his teeth, worrying the delicate flesh until your knees buckled and Azriel had to take your weight, sliding his thigh between your sweat slick legs.

“Shower-” you moaned brokenly, trying to get Azriel to step backwards under the rainforest showerhead. He relented, allowing the hot water to drip from his hair like summer rain. “Let me - ugh - wash you.” Every word was a struggle against the on-slaught of pleasure from both warriors. 

Cassian moved away, the loss of his body heat sending goosebumps flaring over your skin. Behind you the sound of water splashing into the enormous tub filled the room. 

Azriel stepped away too, lifting his face into the water and rubbing his hands over his face. You followed, wrapping your arms around his waist and allowing your hands to find the sensitive spot where his wings met his back. 

“What are you doing, baby?” His gaze snapped down, sending water flying. 

“Let me wash you,” you pouted, two scarred hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed the pout from your lips. But then he turned, kneeling on the floor of the shower so you should reach him. 

The lavender soap was slippery in your hands, filling the shower area with its sweet, floral scent. 

You began with his shoulders, rubbing the knots away with your thumbs and then sliding your hands over his shoulders, suds revealing hints of the detailed tattoos that hid beneath, fingers brushing over the hard nubs of nipples before squeezing the soft muscle of his pecs playfully. 

Cassian, hair now slicked back from face, stepped behind you in turn, guiding your hands back to Azriel’s shoulders. 

“Just - here,” he nuzzled into the soft spot below your ear, moving your hand between Az’s wings and then pressing. 

In front of you Azriel moaned, a deep sound that bounced off the tiles and vibrated up your legs. Cassian chuckled behind you and pressed again. 

“Wicked, both of you, wicked, teasing -” he stood and turned, crowding you back against Cas until all three of you were in the corner of the shower, kissing and laughing while Azriel tickled up your sides. 

“Hmm, time for the bath I think,” Cas wrapped his arms around you, reaching for Az. 

“I agree,” you nodded, breathless. 

Tearing yourself away from their searching hands and hungry kisses, you added a large squeeze of bubble bath to the filling tub. You barely had time to turn around again before Cassian hauled you into his arms and kissed you.

“Fuck, I missed you, baby, you’ll stay with us in the bath, right?” His hazel eyes, so full of lust just moments before, were clouded with something else too, a fear, a need to be close. 

“How can I say no to you, Cas?” You looked down into his gorgeous face, clean now after his quick shower, glowing in the steamy room.

“Good,” Az sighed into your ear, the feeling of his shivering shadows creeping up your legs and around your waist. 

Surrounded, you were entirely surrounded by them and it was exactly where you needed and wanted to be. Between your boys, safe and loved and close, just the three of you in the sanctuary you’d created. 

“Good!” Cassian echoed, climbing into the overflowing water.

“Cassy!” You giggled, sloshing the water as you both got comfortable before Azriel climbed in too. 

The tub was enormous, large enough for both males and their impressive wingspans, but you crowded together anyway, needing to feel them. You leaned forwards and pressed a chaste kiss to Azriel, revealing in the contrast of his cold shadows on your cheeks and his warm, full lips gently parting your own. 

Cassian’s grip on your hips tightened, “where are you going?” he tugged you back into his lap and nuzzled kisses into your neck. “I’ve gotta feel you, baby,” he hummed, settling your hips directly over his so you could feel the hard length of his arousal between your legs. 

Gods you’d missed this, the way your pulse raced and your body reacted for them. Your legs falling further open and your hips grinding back against him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, we can’t flood the bathroom again,” Azriel groaned, remembering the last time the three of you had taken a bath together, the whole floor had been soaked within minutes, soap and suds dripping out of the floor length open windows into the jasmine scented sky. 

“Just - let me -” he nipped gently at your shoulder, “feel you then.” You never could resist when he turned on his puppy dog eyes, how could you when they were so full of want and desire and the tip of his cock was nudging between your legs in that sinful way. 

You knew exactly what he wanted and you needed it too, reaching between you, you took hold of his hard cock and lined him up against your entrance, sinking down slowly. The first inch was always the hardest, his thick head stretching you, the pressure against your clit so sudden and delicious you could barely keep your eyes open. 

And then you felt Az’s shadows on your cheeks again and you opened your eyes to meet his, dark with lust and need while he watched you sink back down into Cassian’s lap with a gasp. 

Open mouthed, you gasped harder, feeling him so deep inside of you after so long was a welcome shock. 

“You look so beautiful like this, sweetheart.” Azriel’s voice was a low purr, each word punctuated by his shadows skittering over your skin, dancing between the dappled candlelight. 

“Az-” you moaned, leaning back against Cassian once more, ever your rock in this sea of pleasure. 

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered into your ear, soft and low, “taking me so well, taking such good care of me.” He pressed a kiss behind your ear, hands squeezing your hips. “But I think Azzie is lonely over there.” He tipped your chin back up to look at Azriel again, one arm resting on the tile surround, the other under the bubbles, his arm moving slowly as he pumped his cock. “Why don’t you keep him company?” 

Azriel met you searching hand with his own scarred palm, lacing your fingers together and drawing you closer. With a whimper you allowed Cassian’s cock to slip free, instantly feeling lost and empty without his firm, grounding presence. But Azriel was quick to help, situating you on his lap, knees spread wide around his hips and the wide head of his own cock nudging against your entrance. 

He swiped a hand over your forehead, beads of sweat forming from the heat of the bath, down your cheek and neck, his thumb pressing up just a little as it brushed under you chin. It was like you couldn’t breath, taking in his gentle touch, the caress of his hand over your nipple and down your side before he corsetted your waist with his fingers. And then you were lowering on to him too, taking every delicious inch that he had to offer. 

“You feel heavenly, baby,” he whispered, nosing at your jaw and nipping at your throat while you rolled your hips. “Would be a shame not to share you.” 

The water swirled around you both and Cassian’s scent heightened as he drew closer, his hands over Azriel’s at your waist and then dipping lower, lower, tracing the dip at the small of your back and slipping under the water to cup the round swell of your bottom. Massaging and pressing, his fingers touching the delicate skin that stretched so tight around Azriel’s length and then pulling back to circle the your tight pucker. 

“This okay, sweetheart?” He breathed and the feel of his lips on your cheek, Azriel’s on your shoulder, their bodies slick and hard and wanting surrounding you had you whimpering again, clinging to them. You’d take everything they would give you, every touch, every kiss and every inch. 

“Yes - yes - Cassian - please.” You begged, letting your head fall back against him, that familiar movement, that let you feel safe in his arms, that let you gasp and shudder as he pressed inside, knowing they would keep you here on the precipice of pleasure. 

“Fuck-” he brought his other hand around your chest, pulling you tight against him, cupping your breast in his large palm. “You’re perfect - perfect.” He grunted, a second finger joining the first and your mouth fell open in a silent shout. 

“Gods damn, Cassian, I can feel you.” Azriel shut his eyes, leaning into your chest and laving at your free nipple, he sucked the stiff nub into his mouth and worried it with his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose in his efforts to stay still. 

You could feel Cassian’s answering smirk on the cooling skin of your shoulder and then, just as suddenly, deep inside where he curled and spread his fingers. 

“Cassie,” you whined, shifting down into the full feeling, trying to move yourself while trapped between the two Illyrian males and finding no give in their embrace. “Please.” 

You didn’t need to beg further because Azriel took up your cause, barking at Cassian to hurry up before he embarrassed himself. His fingers were gone in an instance, replaced by the blunt, wide head of his cock and then - “Cass-” his name was punched from your lungs, leaving you breathless and floating between them. But they didn’t move. 

Together, you soaked in the bubbles for a few minutes, connected again after so much time apart, each intake of breath making them shift inside of you, sending sparks of heat across your skin. They were here, with out, safe and unharmed. 

 The aching of their initial thrusts gave way to a deep, dull, yearning for more. You clenched around them, trying to stay still but finding it increasingly difficult to stop your body moving, it was drawn to them, needing to feel them moving and loving you as much as they needed to hold you.

Azriel pulled away from you and opened one eye. “Baby, you need to stay still.” His soft, sleepy voice rolled over your skin, igniting your need further, he had fallen as deeply as you, hypnotised by the flickering candles, your combined scents and the closeness that you all craved. 

“Az, I can’t,” you cried, biting into his shoulder to stop your moans as your hips found the perfect pressure, “I missed you both so fucking much.” 

You hooked one arm around his shoulder and the other behind you to tangle in the messy of Cassian’s curls. 

“Fuck,” Cassian grunted, “I’m trying to be good here, don’t wanna make a mess like last time” He chuckled thrusting up anyway, the water swirling around the three of you and spilling over the sides of the tub and across the pearlescent tiles. 

“I don’t care, I don’t care, I just need you, please, fuck, I can’t wait anymore.” Frantically, you moved your hands and kissed Azriel roughly before turning your head to capture Cassian’s lips too. 

“Okay,” Azriel smiled, a secret smile that only you and Cassian ever saw, “but remember you asked for it.”

He gripped your hips again, fingers bruising tight on your hips, and thrust up, chasing his release. 

“Fuck, Azriel,” Cassian groaned behind you, biting into your shoulder and starting to move in contrast to Az. 

“I love you,” you moaned, eyes closed, lost in bliss. “I love you both so much.” Your climax hit you like an arrow, your whole body clenching around them as your walls fluttered, drawing them ever closer to their own release. 

“Love you too, Sweetheart.” 

“Love you, Baby.” 

They growled in unison cumming hard, Azriel bent his head back into your chest, nipping at the soft swell of your breast. Cassian dug his fingers into your waist, pulling you down onto them one last time. 

You stayed there, sandwiched between them, matching smiles on your sated faces, until the water went cold and the bubbles faded. 

[dilfl0v3rss]

mini me

summary: dad!ony and his mini me

cw: suggestive towards the end

word count: 1.1k

part 2

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

your son was only eight years old, but because of his father he acted way older. whether it be how he talked or how he would handle different situations it was easy to tell that he was “ony’s kid”.

it was a satuday morning. you had just finished up breakfast, making finishing touches on your son omari’s plate before you saw him and his father walk in. you had to cover your mouth to contain your laughter when you got a look at what they were wearing. ony had on his dark grey durag, black tank top fitting snug on his broad chest with his black and white plaid pajama pants hanging low on his hips. white dry fit socks covering his feet in his resin yeezy slides. over the years he’s bulked up, converting most of the weight he’s gained from your cooking into muscle.

omari had on the same exact thing, but since he was so small everything looked so baggy. his tank top fit loosely on his little chest while you can tell he rolled his pajama pants at least twice for them to fit his small waist. the only things that fit right were his socks and slides since they were both things that you gifted him. the cutest thing was their durags though. the suede fabric looked nice on their heads with a small “o” on the strings so when they tie them up it can show. “g’morning beautiful” ony said as he sat down in front of his plate.

his morning voice always sounded so good. of course your son mirrored his actions, sitting down in front of his plate as well before greeting you. “g’morning momma. you look pretty” you can tell he was lowering his voice, puberty not yet hitting him to give him the same gravely tone as his father. you chuckled, walking over to them to fill their cups with orange juice. “good morning boys. what y’all getting into today.” ony began cutting into his french toasts, pouring syrup on them before moving his knife to cut omari’s up as well. “finna take man man to the park to shoot some hoops wit me.” omari nodded in agreement. “finna show all the girls my skills and they gon be chasing after me. right dad?” ony nearly choked on his spit, grabbing his cup to sip on his orange juice to wash it down.

you didn’t miss his arm nudging your son’s, signaling him to keep quiet. “excuse me? what girls?” omari opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by his father. “it’s nun mama he just talking. right peanut?” ony and omari looked at each other, silently communicating about what to say next. “uhh y-yea. m’just talking momma.” you rolled your eyes at this. they were basically the same person in two different bodies. “whatever boy just stay outta trouble.” you said, pointing your finger at them before walking off into your room. you took your silk robe off before slipping into bed, matching silk nightgown fitting nicely on your body as you scrolled through different shopping sites for some new clothes.

it wasn’t even twenty minutes later when you seen the two troublemakers back in your line of vision, just itching to bother you. you looked up at them from your phone. “what y’all want now?” the both of them instantly putting their hands up in defense. “what i dooo?” they say in unison. you sighed as you gave them a bored expression. they drop their hands and walked closer to you, standing at the side of your bed. “we want you t’come to the park wit us. right little man?” ony looked down at his twin, nodding towards you for him to add on. “mhmm. dad likes- uh i mean i love when you come to the park with us.” you smirk up at your husband. he had his eyes on the ceiling as he tapped his foot on the ground, waiting for you to reply.

“is this something you want or is this something your dad wants?” you knew what ony was trying to do. you absolutely hated going to the park. the gnats and the blazing sun always seeming to bother you when you were trying to relax, but you also couldn’t say no to your baby. he was always so polite and he never asked for much. your husband used that to his advantage, which you highly disliked. you had a plan though. everything comes with a price with you. “because if this is something daddy wants i need him to ask me himself. or else i can’t go because i’d hate to be a burden to one of you.” now omari was also looking up at ony, waiting for him to reply to you. “gon head and get dressed peanut. me and mommy gotta talk.” he said, shifting his eyes from the white ceiling to your brown ones.

“make sure you say ‘please’ dad. be polite.” omari whispered before doing what he was told and going to his room to get ready. after you heard your door close, you watch as ony began to lean down towards you, one arm grabbing on to the headboard while his other one rested on your pillow, right by your head. “what i gotta do for you t’say ‘yes’ mama.” he said, deep voice rumbling in his chest. you pulled out your phone, unlocking it before showing him the screen. it was a purple lingerie set in your cart with a bunch of other different things as well, ranging from toys and handcuffs to different pieces of clothing. “i want you the clear my cart today. since mari’s going to his grandparents next saturday.”

the corner of ony’s mouth raised as he scrolled through your cart, stopping at the pair of black fuzzy handcuffs. you peeked over your screen to see what he was looking at before explaining the use of the item. “you broke the last pair.” your husband nodded his head in realization before standing upright. “tryna give me another kid, huh mama?” you shrugged your shoulders. “hmm maybe.” ony made his way to his nightstand, pulling out his card before tossing it to you on the bed. “gon head and get whatever you want. sexy ass.” he mumbled before walking towards your shared closet to pull out his sneakers. as he looked through the closet you heard three knocks on your door, letting you know your son has arrived from his room.

“come innn” you sing before he made his way in, instantly walking up to his father. he had on his little black tech suit with his slides on his feet and his basketball sneakers in his hand. “what’d she say? did you say please?” he whispered. ony looked at you, smirking as he began to think about the fun the two of you will be having next weekend. “yea little man…she said yea.”

[jksprincess10]

Meeting Pedro at the Oscar’s after party 👀 maybe he invites you back for drunk food hehe, a dream.

Hope this fits your vision !! I loved writing more Pedro, being a CONSENT KING here.

CW: Age gap, drinking, making out, sexual tension.

The night had felt like a fever dream, especially when you got to the after party and you got even closer to all these celebrities. Your movie hadn’t won, but you were still thankful to be there as a young and upcoming actress. You felt loved.

The lights were colorful, the music was loud. The bodies danced, the glitter of their dresses and the striking white of their shirts shining through the dim lighting. You had come with your costar, but had somehow lost her in the crowd.

A man you didn’t recognize at first waved at you. He had greying curly hair, a patchy beard and wore thick black glasses. When your vision finally adjusted, you recognized Pedro Pascal. You had talked to him a few times, as you had found yourselves in the same parties in the last months.

You went up to him with a smile and pulled him for a tight hug. His big hands rested on your shoulders; he was always so respectful.

“Congrats on the nomination, you must be so proud.” He had to talk pretty close to your ear and pretty loud for you to hear it.

“I still can’t believe it. You did great when you presented tonight!”

“I was so fucking nervous…” He admitted, stroking the back of his head. “Can I get you a drink? Do you need to sit down?”

“Yes and yes. Those heels are killing me. And I can’t wait to take off that dress.”

You were wearing a beautiful black dress. The long skirt was made of fluffy tulle and the top was a corset, the bottom of it made of mesh with beautiful embroidery. You had gold heels that matched your jewelry.

He laughed. “Go sit there, darling, I’ll get you a drink.”

You took a seat and took off your heels to massage your red feet as you waited for Pedro. He was such a gentleman, you didn’t mind spending more time with him. He came back with two red wine glasses, that you drank over a conversation.

**

Maybe the third glass was too much for you to handle. Pedro was also tispy, but you were far worse than him. Maybe you had danced close to him. Maybe you had shaken your butt against him. You weren’t sure if you had dreamed it in your drunken state.

“Was thinking of heading home and ordering food, you in?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” You winked clumsily, which made him laugh.

**

Once at his place, you two ordered junk food and waited in his living room.

“Take off your dress, I’ll give you spare clothes.”

“Jeez, take me to dinner first, Pedro.”

He laughed, cheeks red, before he held your hand and brought you to his room. He pulled out an oversized t-shirt from his drawers and gave it to you.  You turned around to let him help you undo your corset that was crushing your ribs. You felt his fingers brush the skin of your back lightly as he pushed your hair out of the way, which made you shiver.

“I’ll give you some space and change elsewhere.”

Your blurred mind wanted to tell him to stay, but you managed to keep your mouth shut.

You stepped off your dress when he closed the door behind him and replaced it with an oversized Lakers shirt. It stopped at your thighs.

When you went back to the living room, Pedro was already sitting on the couch, wearing more laid-back clothes. He managed not to stare at your thighs and your body, but all failed when you climbed on his lap. There was barely any fabric between your two bodies.

He put his strong hands on your shoulders, like to keep you away. You pouted.

“You’re very drunk. And I’m very old.”

“Also very hot. ”

Maybe the strength of his arm had gave in or maybe his willpower to push you away disappeared. He wanted this; he couldn’t lie to himself. His body was reacting to the attention you were giving him.

Your mouth met his in a hungry kiss. His hands rested on your waist, resisting the urge to pull at the fabric you were wearing. You rested your hands on his rough cheeks as you deepened the kiss. You were heating up, and you clearly felt his arousal through the thin pajama pants he was wearing.

“Okay okay, let’s calm down, food’s coming…” He said between kisses and drunken giggles.

You let go of his mouth finally, but instead, your red painted lips found his throat, where tension was making a vein pop out more. You felt him breathe heavily under you.

His phone rang, indicating that your food was at the front. You finally had to let go, letting your clumsy body slump on his couch. You weren’t hungry for food anymore.

You watched as Pedro got out to get the pizza you ordered. When he came back, he laid the pizza on the table in the kitchen and joined you at your initial spot, sitting beside you when you gave him some space.

“You want pizza?”

“M’not really hungry for food anymore.”

He was trying really hard to be good about this.

“Look, honey… Let’s wait until you’re not drunk and see if you still want this.” The actor spoke softly, not trying to look like he was rejecting you.

“Okay…”

“We’ll eat and get you to sleep.”

**

The next morning, you had woken up in Pedro’s bed, still all dressed up in his clothes. When he felt you move, he turned around to look at you with a sleepy smile and tired, soft eyes.

“You still want this?” He asked, voice raspy from sleep.

As an answer, you threw one of your legs around him to bring him closer, your lips trapping his in a passionate kiss.

[talewrites]

Fragile

Heyooo I’m writing this to get over my writing block for my book. All angst and comfort here 🤗

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’)

Warnings: fighting, blood, injury, panic attack, hyperventilating, not proof read

Summary: You are a runaway experiment from Stockman’s lab. An unexpected group of mutants come to your rescue. How did they know how to find you?

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You were freezing and exhausted.

The city was quiet as the darkness ebbed closer to early morning hours. You had been running for hours now, somehow they always found your hiding spot. You whipped around a corner into another countless dark alley way.

A flinch and a small yelp of pain left you as your bare feet tread across broken glass. You risk a break and press your back into the cold brick of an apartment building as you take a moment to catch your breath. Daintily you lift your foot and pull out a sharp piece of broken glass, tossing away the piece and check the other foot.

Suddenly the screech of tires catches your attention and the adrenaline hits you again like a crashing wave. You’re running again before you can even think. You exit the alley and dart out into the street. A black van rounds the corner behind you and you sprint for the narrow opening between two apartment buildings. You practically slam into the concrete, bumping your shoulder and scraping your knee as you squeeze your tiny body past a build up of trash. The car pulls up by the opening and the door is thrown open as two men in black suits jump out and reach for you, but you scoot further down and make for the other side. They curse and order the driver to pull around the other side and cut you off as they try to fit through the opening behind you. But you’re faster. You stumble out onto the side walk and fall to your knees, panting hard, and scramble to your feet. The black van again comes into your peripheral vision but you’re already booking it down the street as fast as you can. They can’t catch you again, they just can’t. Not again.

The black van zooms past you and the tires squeal as they pull the car in front of you, blocking your path. You hear the footsteps of the other two men behind you and you quickly find an alley to your right, avoiding hands that reach for you.

In the icy chilled night air, you are sweating through the thin white smock. A dead end.

“No…. No no no no they can’t- ….” You frantically look around at the corners where brick and grey cement buildings meet, discarded trash piled up but nowhere to hide. You find a glass beer bottle and smash the bottom of it. The raggedy sound of your desperate gasps for breath fill the space, your back pressed hard into the slimy brick wall. Heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Polished leather shoes click as the group of men slowly approached you, spread out like they were ready to catch a frightened animal.

“Finally.” A man in a white lab coat stepped into the alley behind the men in suits. “You stay right there. Before we go back, we are going to have a nice long “talk” about your behavior….”

Several of the men reached to their belts for a wand that extended into a short metal rod with electricity sparking at the tips, and another man walked over to a pile of trash and pulled out the broken leg of a wooden table.

The man chuckled, watching your eyes widen with fear as you trembled in your defensive position. He pulled a notepad out of his jacket pocket and clicked a pen.

“I will be observing if this event triggers a desired response. You may begin.” The armed men all suddenly lunged forward.

“Finally.”

A large flash of green and red suddenly descended from above and landed right on top of the man closest to you, making you flinch with fright.

A whoop sounded from above and everyone stopped to look up as another large being flipped in the air and landed in front of you in a showy flourish of waving nunchucks.

“Step away from the babe!” The orange clad being said heroically, looking over his shoulder to throw you a wink.

Your eyes were wide as your whole body tensed, frozen in place. His face almost didn’t look…. human.

Like Bebop and Rocksteady.

Another thud brought your attention to a large blue clad being that landed next to the red one.

“Raph, I said to wait until I gave the order!” He whisper yelled. Making the red one, Raph, grunt and step off the man he was standing on.

“Seemed to me that Stockman already gave the order. You think I was just gonna sit by and watch?”

The men in suits had started surrounding the red and blue mutants, while the orange protectively stood in front of you spinning his nunchucks.

You lowered the broken bottle in your hands marginally, sensing that the new arrivals didn’t have intention to harm you. When suddenly a fourth one in a purple mask landed right next to you, making you jump with surprise, the bottle flying from your hand and shattering nearby.

“My data indicates that this is indeed the supposed experiment that escaped from the Foot Clan’s secret laboratory approximately 4 hours ago.” He spoke calmly while you tried to catch your breath, panic rising again in your throat as your back slid down the wall until you were sat on the ground.

“Yeah, we gathered that, brainiac.” Raph gruffly sassed.

“The chip we’ve been tracking is still active. Leo?” Said the supposed brainiac.

“Shut it down Donnie, we’ll take care of this.” Ordered Leo, as he turned and faced Stockman.

“Right.” Donnie knelt next to you and suddenly looked nervous. He gave you a very awkward smile before continuing.

“Sorry, I just need to see your arm for a minute. Can I touch you?” He asked calmly.

It was clear that you were trying very hard to suppress a panic attack. Adrenaline still pumped through your veins and you were scared half to death. But this mutant was the first being in over a year to ask your permission before doing anything to you. So you swallowed your fear and gave a trembling nod.

The purple mutant, Donnie, looked at you seriously for a moment before returning your nod. “Okay, I’m going to touch you now…” he said as he gently took your arm.

You still flinched on instinct, and took in a sharp inhale of breath, trying to steady your nerves.

Donnie muttered a quick apology. One of the men in suits was suddenly thrown into the wall near you, startling you almost out of your skin. Making you practically leap into Donnie’s arms.

“Hey, watch it Mikey!” He shouted to the orange banded mutant.

“Whoops, sorry dudette!” Mikey paused his fight to wave over at you apologetically.

You found yourself half in the embrace of Donnie, who looked down at you and giggled nervously. You instinctively flinched out of his embrace, but remained near. You didn’t want to get any closer to the unconscious man in the suit.

“Sorry… let’s try that again. Can I… touch your arm? I need to find the chip.” He gently took your arm after you gave a quick nod and he felt around your upper arm for a little bump. You squirmed a little when he found it.

“There! Okay. I’m really sorry but I need to take it out of you. This might sting a little-“ before you could process what he said you felt a sharp pinch in your arm. You panicked. Your head shot up and you started to hyperventilate. You tried to find something to focus on like you did in the lab, and watched as the orange, blue, and red mutants chased Stockman back to his van. The coward leaving behind his unconscious men and shouting at them that he wasn’t going to give up on finding you. The three mutants, you distantly observed from their backs, looked almost like turtles.

The pinching in your arm stopped, but your breathing wasn’t slowing down. You felt a three fingered hand on your shoulder begin to shake you, the other turtle mutants turning around and looking back at you with surprise as Stockman drove off. Your vision got hazy. The world seemed to slow down as you watched the three turtle men run towards you with expressions of worry on their faces. The fourth one was shouting something to them from beside you as he placed his hand over your diaphragm to steady you. His face came into your vision, expression serious as you tried to make out the words he was speaking. ‘Breath… just breath…’ you could make out from the shape of his lips.

That was the last thing you saw before darkness overtook you, and you passed out.

Part 2 :]

[sinsandsweetness]

“consequences” - part 4 of PICK YOUR POISON - (a dads best friends love story)

part 1, 2, and 3

pairing- (Rick x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+ content, age gap, smut, needy + desperate reader, sneaky sex, almost getting caught, unprotected p in v, light choking, mutual pining, cream pie, poorly proofread. wc 3.9k

notes- i know this took forever, so thank you all for the patience. i rewrote this like three or four times because i just wasn’t as happy with it as i am with the first three parts. i’m pretty happy with it now but I feel it isn’t as playful as the first three. regardless, please tell me what you think:) comments and reblogs are always incredibly appreciated and your feedback means a lot to me <3 enjoy!

3 weeks.

That’s how long it took you to break him. Since that day up in your room, during the barbecue. When he was insistent on showing you how much better he could take care of you than anyone else could. 3 weeks from then is when you finally broke him. And who’d have thought it’d be in your own home, with your dad passed out on the main floor. Unaware of the downright filth happening upstairs in your bedroom. Filth that if he ever found out, would send him into cardiac arrest. Though you’re always careful, and to you, the risk is definitely worth the reward.

But it’s not like you haven’t had a couple close calls. Stolen kisses and flirty glances can’t go unnoticed forever. Your father hasn’t ever said anything. Even when he can see Rick’s hands on your waist, lingering a minute too long. Or the way you always sit right next to him. Pressed up as close as humanly possible. Practically in his lap. Well... sometimes actually in his lap. Your father’s not stupid. But, he’s also not exactly the most confrontational man. And he’s never actually caught you. There’s been no real confirmation of his suspicions. Until today that is.

After a long day of work at your dads construction site, Rick arrives at your house before any of the others. Freshly showered with a case of beer. It’s just you and him in the kitchen. Making small talk as he tries to pretend there isn’t a band of tension pulling the two of you closer and closer with every meaningless question.

“Didn’t know you were coming over,” you say, chopping up some vegetables on a cutting board. Glancing up at Rick who can’t seem to look you in the eyes. Distracted by the tiny little outfit you have on. A skirt, despite the brisk weather. A tight, fitted long sleeve that’s pushing your breasts together in the most enticing way possible. No bra. Clearly. And then there’s the best part. The part he keeps glancing down at while licking his lips and taking in a deep breath. Your thigh highs. White knit thigh high socks that make him want to pin you up against the counter and fuck you then and there.

“I uh- your dad told us to come for some drinks,” he looks up at you again, this time you’re leaning against the island, brushing your hands together to dry them off.

“So… where’s my dad then?” You ask, stepping even closer to the man. Too close, you realize at the hitch of his breath.

It’s been a really long 3 weeks.

“Uh- I imagine he got sidetracked. I know Maggie was looking for him. Probably caught up in conversation.”

“And Shane? Daryl?”

“On their way.”

“Hmm.” You hum. You’re right in front of him now. You can smell his cologne and the shampoo he uses. Damp curls forming at the base of his neck. Casual black jeans on, and a simple grey tee shirt. He places the case of beer right next to you on the counter, stepping in close so he’s pressed up against you. Trapped between his warm body and the cool marble.

You stay like that for a moment. Both of your minds going back to the night last week that you snuck out. To what happened in that truck. But more importantly what didn’t happen. What you’ve been praying would happen for weeks.

Finally he leans in, pressing a sweet little kiss to the corner of your lips before dipping lower. Breathing in your perfume.

“Missed you,” he admits into your neck. The warmth of his breath sends little pinpricks down your arms.

You breath in a quiet gasp when he kisses your neck. Warm, soft lips making their way down to your collarbone. His hands on either side of your waist, planting you against the counter.

God, you want him so bad it hurts.

Your hand goes to the back of his neck, pulling him up so his lips are forced against yours. Kissing him with the same fervor and necessity that had been building all month. Since that very first kiss in your dads garage. Since that day at the barbecue when Rick took you upstairs and showed you how much better he is at making your legs shake than Shane. Since the pool party, the day you were a complete tease and they all knew it. When Rick decided to take you down to the pool shed and teach you a lesson. You had no idea fingers could even feel that good. But Rick’s do. Everything Rick does, feels good to you.

And then, there was the night last week. The one that both of you have been thinking about every hour since.

You’d snuck out your bedroom window just to see him. To go for a drive and park on the side of the road. You kissed him til your lips were swollen and your panties were soaking through.

You know he’s wanted you from the very start. When he first met your dad and started coming over. Well before you’d ever kissed him. Showed interest in him. But that night, it hit him. How much he wants you to himself. How much he loves being alone with you. Just you. But no matter how tempted he may have seemed, he still refused to break the agreement. He still wouldn’t fuck you.

Yet.

“Rick-“ you gasp against his lips as he pulls you up onto the counter, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. Skirt riding up to expose your lacy panties. You can feel him against you. How badly he wants you. How hard he is for you. How hard he’s been every night since the night you snuck out to see him. Touching himself to the thought of you, wishing he’d just fucked you then, on the side of the highway in the dead of night. Just you and him and the stars acting as the only witnesses to your risky little love affair.

“Want you,” you say against his lips, his hand starting to gently wrap around the front of your throat. His other arm pulls you in by the waist so you’re completely flush with his chest.

“Want you so bad,”

But before he can mumble a response into your mouth, both of you hear the garage door open. You both freeze. Eyes going wide, you slide off the counter, immediately pulling your skirt back to an appropriate length. Rick rubs a hand over his face, turning the other direction. Giving you a moment of privacy to get yourself situated and to deal with the tent in the front of his jeans.

Your father walks in first.

You can't even look at him. Blush so very apparent on your pretty face as you look down at the cutting board, pretending to be occupied with the assortment of vegetables. Daryl and Shane head straight for the fridge. Only giving you a smirk of acknowledgment as their gaze is darting in between you and Rick.

Your father notices. The way you won’t look him in the eye. The way Rick is nervously running a hand through his hair and how his eyes keep darting over to you. He sees it. He’s not stupid. But for whatever reason, he doesn’t say anything. He just stalks over and slaps Rick on the back with a, “thanks man, really needed this after the week we’ve had.”

Rick nods in agreement, taking a sip of the bottle your father just handed him. Rick looks over at you. Something unspoken behind his eyes that you can’t quite make out. Yeah, it’s been a long week indeed.

You don’t stay downstairs long. When Shane and your father start getting all loud and rowdy in the living room, the empty bottles of their fifth beers being knocked over onto the hardwood as their play fight begins, that’s when you decide to head upstairs with a quick wave, “g’night.” Rick is the only one who catches it. Nodding back at you as you climbed the stairs. Watching you sway your hips with every step. Skirt so short that the bottom of your ass cheeks are on full display.

You try sleeping. But every time you close your eyes you see Rick. That night in his truck. Straddling his waist and unbuckling his belt. The way he kissed you so deep. Filled with so much lust. So much need. You’d never felt that before. And even though he told you exactly how bad he wanted you, he didn’t have to. You could feel it. With every touch. Every kiss. That’s why it surprised you when you tried to go all the way and he still wanted to stop you.

“Not like this. I can’t- I'm… we’re not doin’ it like this.”

“Why?” You were out of breath, still trying at his belt but his hand came down to stop you, firmly calling your name. Grabbing your full attention to his stormy blues.

“We’re on the side of the road for christs sake. It should be- fuck. We should be at home in a real bed. Not sneaking around in some beater pickup in the middle of nowhere-”

“Rick-”

“No.”

“This is perfect.” You tried to assure him.

He sighed and pulled your forehead against his, catching your lips before mumbling, “You’re perfect.”

“I want this. I want you.”

“I know. And you have no idea how badly I want this too. But I can’t. I just- we can’t.”

He still made you come. Regardless of the fact that he wouldn’t fuck you. He wasn’t going to let you go home without a proper orgasm.

But you needed more. Needed him.

And now, laying in bed, reliving the scene in your head with your hands trailing down to your panties, you’re soaking right through. Your stomach doing backflips at the memory of his hands roaming your body in the dark.

With a frustrated groan, you sit up. Fuck. A cold shower is what you really need.

You get up and open your bedroom door, immediately met with the sight of Rick on the top step of the stairs. He’s got his index pressed to his lips when he sees you. Telling you to be quiet. Hush.

He’s smiling behind his hand. Dropping it as he reaches your bedroom door. He brings his arm up to the doorway, leaning on it. Other hand sporting a half empty bottle of beer. You wonder how many he’s had.

“They’re all passed out on the couch aren’t they?” You ask, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorway. Arms only inches from his chest.

“How’d you guess?”

“Well… it’s quiet, for one,” you turn around and head to your bed, sitting down and waiting for him to follow.

He does.

“And two… you’re here.” You say.

“I am.”

He sits down. A quiet moment passes and he takes another swig of beer before placing the bottle on your nightstand.

“Y’know, if you really don’t wanna sleep with me, you should probably stop inviting yourself into my bedroom. It’s sending some pretty mixed signals.”

He chuckles at your comment. “Mixed signals huh?” His hand goes to your leg, tracing the band of your thigh highs. You’re no longer wearing your skirt. Just panties, socks and an ex-boyfriend's baggy tee shirt.

“Yeah,”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing about you, sweetheart,” his hand makes its way up your thigh. His palm is rough against your smooth skin, the attention sending a jolt straight between your legs.

“How so?”

“Shane? Daryl?” He says it like it’s obvious. You fooling around with the other best friends.

“That’s different.” You look up at him now, the tiniest scowl on your face.

“How so?” His tone is soft but it’s clear he’s mocking you.

You open your mouth to respond but something stops you. Deep breath. You’re looking at his lips now. And he knows it.

“I wanted you, y’know. They’re fun and all but…“ you swallow. You need Rick. From the very start it’s been pretty obvious that you like him best. Always sitting next to him, as close as you can get. There’s just something different about Rick. The way he makes you feel. The way he was so quick to claim you. How he’s possessive and attentive and so insanely infatuated by you. It’s just… different. You can’t explain it.

“But what?” His nose is nearly touching yours at this point. One hand on your thigh and the other one reaching for your face. Thumb running across your jaw as you lean in.

You’re voice is quiet when you finally speak.

“I want you.”

He lips graze yours and you have a feeling that he heard you this time. Like, really fucking heard you. Not just the words leaving your mouth, but everything else that you’re trying to say. The way your heart is beating fast and you’re breathing is all shallowed. How he can see every nervous little tic that goes through you as he leans in to kiss you.

So he gives in. Reluctantly of course. If asking, “you sure about this?,” while peeling your panties down your legs is considered reluctant. Or worriedly whispering that “we could get caught,” while tossing your shirt across the room and leaning down to suckle at your breasts, nipping and sucking a few little love bites where no one else will see but him. Because that’s so very reluctant of him.

His hands are wrapped around your waist as he kisses down your stomach. Soft lips making their way down between your legs, propping one of your legs up and kissing your inner thigh. He takes his time, biting your leg and dragging his teeth down your sensitive skin. The action makes you whine, hands going straight to his curls.

“Rick just- c’mon,”

“Why don’t you just lay back and look pretty, huh?”

“Rick-” you’re on fire. Need pulsing through your bloodstream with every touch. His hands are holding your hips to the mattress, preventing them from squirming around. The featherlight kisses he’s peppering over your clit are bordering on the side of torture. You know he’s just trying to take his time. To savour the feeling and drag it on. Make it last and make it special. But he doesn’t realize how badly you need him to push your knees to your chest and fuck you til you’re a moaning mess.

“Rick.” You tug on his hair, trying to get him to just fuck you already. You’ve been waiting over a month for this. And judging by the arousal dripping onto your pink, cotton sheets, you definitely don’t need the foreplay.

“Maybe you’d get what you want if you used your manners a little more. Ever thought of that?” He looks up at you. And despite his words, he follows the hand urging him to come up and kiss your lips. To replace his shoulders with his hips in between your legs.

“Please,” you breath out. If manners is all he wants, then you’re a lucky girl. You’d tell him whatever he wants to hear if it mean he’ll fuck you. “Please, please, just fuck me, just-”

“God, you’re such a brat,” he cuts you off with a kiss, you’re legs instinctively wrapping around his clothed torso. And the feeling of his denim against your bare clit isn’t helping your incredibly desperate situation.

You reach for his belt mid kiss and you can tell that his instincts are telling him to stop you. To tell you that you’re dad’s downstairs and that it’s wrong. But with his forehead pressed against yours, warm breath fanning over your lips he dips down to kiss your neck. He doesn’t stop you. He lets you unbuckle his belt and push his jeans down, enough to reach his cock, standing tall and eager. You tug on his tee shirt and he helps you take it off, throwing it onto the pile of both your clothes building on your floor. You pull him in close with your legs, knitted socks all soft against his bare back, almost locking him into place. Your hands are on his jaw, pulling him in as you bite his bottom lip, gently dragging it out and earning a groan. At the same time, he lines himself up with your aching cunt. He enters you slowly with a muffled moan. A gasp leaves your lips at the stretch. He’s much bigger than anyone you’ve been with. In length and in girth.

Once every thick inch is completely inside of you, he can tell that you need a minute. Your breath is caught in your throat as you adjust to his size.

Well, no going back now.

“You okay?” He asks in between kisses. Keeping his hips still as you get used to the feeling.

You nod, “Just- go slow, ok?”

You can’t help the moan that’s crawling up your throat when he does as you say. Slow, intentional movements in and out. Fuck he’s big. But fuck, does it ever feel good.

“You feel so good,” you tell him. You need to tell him. To let him know how much you love it. How much you needed it. Needed him. “Please don’t ever stop.”

His breathing is heavy. Pushing down the groans and sounds you so desperately wish he would let you hear. He’s trying so hard not to come. You’re so wet. So warm. So tight around his cock and so fucking pretty laying there underneath him. Moaning all sorts of praise.

“You’re so big,”

“Rick, yes.”

“Right there, please.”

“Feels so good,”

And your words add fuel to the fire burning inside of him. The way you’re holding onto his neck, legs locked behind his back. Lips parted in the long awaited bliss of being filled right up. Taking him so well. And he makes sure to tell you it, too.

“That’s it, baby. Doin’ so good,” he kisses you again, “taking me so well.”

There’s a lot of hands. Grabbing at arms, necks, hair, faces. Whatever either of you can reach as he snaps his hips against yours. He’s done going slow. His pace is making your back arch off the bed and guttural, almost pornographic noises start to pour from your lips. Swollen and rosy and constantly catching his with every opportunity.

“Shhhh-“ Rick brings a hand up to your face. Forehead still pressed agains yours as he covers your mouth. “Gonna wake em’ up if you keep making so much noise.”

That’s not the only reason he needs you to shut up. It’s true, but it’s not the only reason.

He can’t take it. Well, at least he doesn’t think he can.

When he pulls out, your eyes go wide. No. Don’t stop. Why the hell is he stopping?

“What- oh.” your head falls back to the pillow at the feeling of his tongue on your clit. His fingers already knuckle deep and curling upwards to hit your sweet spot. Those fucking sounds you’re making are driving him crazy. But at least he knows he can last a little longer this way. Maybe make you come before he fucks you again. A little less pressure to perform when you’re already dumb from his fingers. From his tongue. From the way he’s sucking on your clit and pushing up on your thigh, fingers driving into you so hard you could scream.

You have to cover your own mouth. You know you’re being too noisy. And you also know the last thing either of you want is for your father to wake up to the sound of his daughter getting finger fucked by his best friend. By his friend who’s at least 15 years older than you. The one he’s been suspicious of for a few weeks now, over analyzing the way he looks at you. The way he listens to you. The way he brings you up and asks what you’re up to. All of it. And then earlier. The flushed faces of guilt and embarrassment when he got home in the middle of your moment.

You don’t need any kind of interruption. Anything that might put off the thing you’ve been pining for so badly for so long. But you definitely don’t need the interruption to come hurling up the stairs, drunk and careless and ready to fight.

So you bite your lip til it bleeds. A hot wave of pleasure erupts from your core, and spreads through you like a wildfire. Fuck. Those damn fingers.

Before you can even catch your breath, while your muscles are still twitching from your orgasm, his forearms find their way to either side of your face and he pushes inside of you once again.

“Ohmygod,”

You’re soaking. Both of you can hear it. The sounds of your slick, wet cunt perfectly taking every single thrust. So wet. And all for him.

“Ohmygod,” you repeat, nails raking down his back as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, deepening the angle to something otherworldly. Heaven or paradise or whatever utopia you can think up, couldn’t even compare. Not to this. Not to him. The way his cock kisses your cervix with every snap of his hips. The way his hands are roaming over your body. Trying to touch every square inch he can. The way he’s whispering all that dirty praise, telling you how good you feel. How wet you are for him. How fucking perfect you are. For him. The way he kisses the leg propped up on his shoulder, leaning back to admire what a mess he’s made out of his best friends daughter. So pretty and perfect. All flushed and glowing with a thin sheen of sweat coating your chest. Eyes glossed over in complete and utter ecstasy.

Nothing can compare.

“Rick, I- I-” your voice keeps catching in your throat.

“What? What is it?”

“Rick I- uh,” Ricks thumb runs over your bottom lip, dragging it out.

“I’m gonna come.” Your voice is hushed but your words don’t go unnoticed. Your grip tightens on his shoulders as his long fingers make their way down your body, pushing down on your lower stomach. It’s an intense pressure, sweet and comforting and so fucking enraptured that it brings tears to your eyes.

“God, you’re so pretty. Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock. ” He coaxes it out of you. Sultry moans leave your lips as you both reach your climax. Locking your leg around his waist as he fills you with his seed. Dipping down to press a passionate kiss to your mouth. Tongue tracing your own as his hips stutter to a stop. Heavy breathing with your chests pressed together. Thigh muscles straining from the angle but you can’t find it in you to care. Too overwhelmed by such an incredible high.

He whispers your name against your lips.

“Yeah?” You’re out of breath, doe eyes glancing up at him like he’s some kind of god.

“You are so fucking perfect.”

You know that while he means it, it’s not what he really wants to say. As if it might scare you off if he speaks the truth. If he tells you what he’s really thinking. It won’t. But he doesn’t know that.

Slowly, he pulls out of you. You can’t help but wince at the loss of contact. Leaned back on his knees, Rick tucks himself back into his jeans, forgetting all about his belt at the hypnotic sight of his cum dripping out of you. Both of you too caught up in the moment to think about a condom. And too blissed out now to find it in yourselves to care. His fingers trace through the warm liquid. You find yourself flinching at the sensitivity when he brushes over your clit.

“I’ll uh- I’ll grab a washcloth. Just- stay here, ok?”

You smile up at him. So predictably sweet and caring and clearly starting to overthink as he comes down from his high. Mind racing with “what if’s” and the overwhelming fear that you might regret it. Regret him.

But you don’t.

“Wait,” you grab his arm as he starts to stand up, heading for the bathroom to clean you up. To take care of you.

“Can we go again?”

A flash of surprise and then a wave of relief washes over his face as he sits back down.

“Jesus, kid.” He smiles and settles back in between your legs.

Right where he belongs.

-

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @miinbun @murder-jacket @ankhmutes @grimesthinker @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee @imyourbratzdoll @fanngirl19 @spidermonkey2423 @belaballs @virtualreader @darylsdix0nn @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @cavillsgirl105 @movidita @flomrpus @summergirl37

(crossed out means I couldn’t tag)

[miscellaneoussmp]

I can see the Forever and Bad wedding now, actually. And it goes something like this (Edit: This fic was made before January 5th 2024.):

It's decorated in black and white, straight down the middle. Those in bright smiles sit in the bright white! What a happy wedding this is! It's perfect! Those without smiles sit in the darkness. This isn't a wedding at all. It's going to end up a funeral.

Cellbit stands on Bad's side, even if he's supposed to be Forever's best man. He can't bring himself to stand in the blinding white. They aren't his friends. Those aren't their smiles. He misses their actual smiles. He wishes he could stand with them. He's wearing almost all black. This feels like a funeral.

Jaiden stands at the altar. She's the officiant. Her smile is small, and she hates the fact that she feels like she's almost forcing it. She is wearing grey, a mix of the happy couple's colors. It's a happy occasion, a wedding. Why are people crying like it's a funeral?

Foolish stands next to Cellbit. He's wearing black at Bad's request, afterall he's Bad's best man. He doesn't like that it feels like a funeral. This is his idea, but he doesn't like how sad it feels. He wishes he could stand in the white. He wishes he could pretend this is a happy wedding. He knows it's a funeral.

Pac stands next to Forever, where Cellbit is supposed to be. It's not perfect, but it's fine! He gets it! He really does! Cellbit just wants to support Bad, one of his oldest friends! His nails are digging into his palm. Why is that? Everything is fine! It's Forever's special day! His wedding! That's why he's wearing a different shade of white, to not outshine his friend. What a happy wedding!

Tina stands at the end of the aisle. She doesn't like wearing black. It's not typically her color. Mouse stands at the end of the aisle. She doesn't usually wear all black. She prefers black as an accent color. Tina is holding a wicker basket of flower petals. Mouse is holding a pillow with two rings atop it. Tina pretends not to notice the tears running down Mouse's face. Mouse pretends not to notice how Tina's smile looks so terrified. They're in the roles found at a wedding, yet they're dressed for a funeral.

Phil walks up the aisle with Bad in tow. He decided to be the one to walk their friend up the aisle. He's not used to wearing black, but he thinks it fits. He noticed how Bad hadn't talked all day. It's fine, he doesn't have to be happy. If it all goes well, this will become a funeral, not stay a wedding.

Forever stands at the altar, in front of Bad. He can't believe it! They're getting married! How perfect! It's perfect! Bad isn't smiling, though. That's okay! He'll start smiling when they're officially married! They didn't even stop the clock joke for his wedding, how rude. Jaiden's voice is really nice! He's so happy she agreed to be the officiant!

"If there is any reason why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Etoiles stands from his seat, sword already drawn. He ignores the sound of other weapons being drawn and gasps and cries and sounds of people grabbing explosives. This wedding will become a funeral, it doesn't matter how. It's not truly a funeral if the end goal is almost like a rebirth, is it?

Quesadilla Island wedding tradition states that there should be at least one death and explosion at a wedding. Sometimes, people outdo their own traditions.

[blackhairedjjun]

6:49 am — c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gender neutral reader | genre / tropes: fluff, established relationship, bed sharing (sfw) | word count: 624 | warnings: none

author's notes: so yeonjun's vlog had me giggling and kicking my feet wow i felt so in love watching it and i can't believe they let us see that footage of him waking up wow so many domestic thoughts... yeah i had to write this bc of that <3 also it's been rainy as hell where i live and the thought of snuggling next to someone during a cold rainy morning just makes me soft

this fic has been crossposted to ao3 here

you are awakened by the sound of rain outside, a thousand tiny drumming droplets melting together into a sheet of white noise. a morning like this should feel cold, and yet you feel comfortably warm -- thick sheets are crumpled around your body and your boyfriend is snuggled next to you, his warmth spilling over to your side. with the sheets covering most of him, all you see are wisps of black hair falling over his forehead and closed eyes. he still looks beautiful that way.

you don't know what time it is, but the sound of rain and the dim grey light all beckon you to go back to sleep. you cuddle into yeonjun's side, resting your head against his chest, and let the sound of his breathing lull you back into a brief slumber.

in your brief moments of rest you have no dreams, only a faint feeling of contentment that envelops you. when you wake again, it's to yeonjun's voice in your ear, still heavy with sleep: "good morning..."

slowly you open your eyes. his face is so close to yours that it startles you into wakefulness -- but not that you mind. half-lidded eyes gaze at you with such tenderness that you feel content all over again, and he reaches out a hand to pull back the covers from your chin and get a better look at you.

"sleep well?" he asks.

"yeah, you?"

"yeah..." he drapes the sheets more snugly around himself and moves closer to you. "let's stay in for a while."

you hum in agreement. his arm wraps around your waist, rubbing circles into your back, and you reach a hand out to brush his hair away from his eyes.

for a while the two of you simply lay there in silence, basking in each other -- you don't know if you've been lying down for one minute or thirty, but it doesn't matter. you bury your face in the crook of his neck and allow yourself to just feel him -- the way his arm subconsciously pulls you closer to him, the way you seem to perfectly fit into his side, the way his pulse falls in sync with yours in a slow, steady beat. the feeling of contentment washes over you in another wave and grows into a sense of safety. being in his arm feels right, it feels like home. even with the rain pouring outside, as long as you're with yeonjun, you know that the day will be okay.

you pause for a moment to pull away from him and admire his features. you're drawn to plush half-parted lips, then up to eyes that flutter open to admire you right back.

god, you're so beautiful, you think.

"you think so?"

"what?" you blink a few times, not realizing you said that out loud.

"you said i was... beautiful..."

you chuckle and place your hand atop the arm he has wrapped around you. "you are beautiful, jjunie. you're always beautiful to me."

he breaks into a full smile and buries his face underneath the covers. you're so close to him that even you can feel his face heating up.

"it's true!" you say with a chuckle.

he squirms under the sheets and you can't help but giggle at his reaction. finally, his head peeks out again and his words are soft: "i like it when you say that..."

"can i say it again then?"

"please."

you bring your face closer to his and he closes the gap with a soft kiss. his lips move gently against yours, and when he pulls away his cheeks are dusted with a faint pink.

this time you don't hesitate to say it out loud.

"you are so beautiful."

[pierperian-leisure]

Coffee Spills and Sweet Spots

If Harvey had to choose one word to describe his day at the clinic, abysmal would probably be the most fitting. 

The morning had started off well for all of twenty minutes, as he had made the trek into town, kissing his wife goodbye at the door. He had no idea how she managed the farm like she did, he already had early mornings to get to work in town, but for the farmer to be up and working the fields already when he was just beginning to get out the door, Harvey stayed in awe of her. 

Black coffee in one hand and patient charts in the other, Harvey made his way into town down the cobblestone street, a briskness to his step from the cold winter air. Upon approaching the clinic door, however, he realized that his door keys were in his bag and his hands both unfortunately overly occupied. The doctor sighed, mustache bristling in agitation, and began attempting to balance his precarious load, rummaging through his bag for the keys. However, in the process, coffee sloshed all across the doctor’s starched white shirt. Harvey sighed, realizing the kind of day this was set to be.

Things proceeded much the same way since his fiasco in the morning. Harvey was inundated with a broken arm from Vincent, an emergency gastrointestinal check for Abigail (how had she eaten minerals?), and a curious case of what appeared to be athlete’s foot from Alex, though not a form Harvey had ever seen before, all interspersed with the banal task of filling out the paperwork that had caused his spill in the first place this morning. What a day for Maru to be out of the office, the doctor would occasionally gripe internally.

When the day was finally through, Harvey was sticky, tired, and ready to go home. His back ached, and though he loved to drink it, the aroma of coffee infused to his clothes had given him a migraine. Thus, what was a brisk walk this morning had turned into a slow trudge home to the farmer by evening, the poor doctor ready to see his wife.

—

The cabin door swung open, and the farmer gazed up from patching up her trousers to see her husband schlump through the door. Harvey, the usually prim and put together doctor, was a mess. His hair was askew, tie loosened and glasses slipped down his nose, and a coffee looking stain was spread all across the front of his shirt. The man looked downright miserable and exhausted. 

The farmer swung up from her seat, cooing and trying to calm her husband. Harvey sighed and melted into her touch as the farmer took his green coat from him, gently shrugging one shoulder out and then the other. Though a good few heads shorter than him, the farmer ushered Harvey to their worn couch, sitting facing a simmering fireplace. An audible crack was heard from Harvey’s poor back as the farmer sat down and guided his head into her lap. 

The farmer stroked her husband's hair, trying to ease away the doctor's tension. Harvey's prematurely grey temples were a sweet spot, and the farmer stroked them gently, knowing they would make the man below her melt in relaxation. The farmer carded her fingers through the grey speckled auburn hair, encouraging Harvey to lean into the touch and the radiating warmth of the fireplace to relax from the day. Peace danced between the two fingers, and the farmer leaned down to place a kiss to the tip of Harvey's nose, a smiling blooming on the doctor's face in response.

No matter the medical oddities this small town could come up with, the fiascos, or the coffee stains, they were all worth it to Harvey to come home to this.

[small-sinclair]

Could you do any slashers of your choosing with a S/O that wants cats, a lot of cute kitty cats? Just wondering

Because I feel like it fits with these three the most: Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair

Slashers with a S/o that loves cats

Thomas Hewitt

Him liking cats makes since because he lives out in the country and his family used to have barn cats.

And he used to pet them when he was a kid and play with them.

So, when he sees you come home with a box full of kittens, his murdering heart melts.

He picks up a loud, screaming kitten and cradles it in his big arms, humming happily.

He plays with them when no one is looking, too. Like, he got a red lazier for them to play.

The orange kitten, Curtis, is the one that hangs out with Thomas. He sits on his shoulder like a bird and chirps happily while he butchers and works.

Vincent Sinclair

Yes, he has a dog.

Yes, he also wants a shit tone of cats.

He loves how they sit on his lap and make biscuits, purring loudly, and chirping. He loves it.

He doesn’t want them in his workplace in fear of them getting burned by wax.

If his s/o finds a pregnant cat and bring them back to Ambrose, he’ll make a comfortable nest and make sure the Mama Cat is okay through the whole thing.

Six cats are born, and one of them looks like Vincent: a white car with a black spot on the right side of his face.

You name it Lil Vin.

Lil Vin likes to play with Vincent’s shoe laces and with little paper balls. She’s a playful little thing.

Lester Sinclair

Let’s face it, he’s an animal lover!

When you bring him some little kittens and cats, let’s say 7, the man lays down on the floor with his arms open for the kittens the climb on him.

He stays still as he feels the paws over him, awing at a cat that’s curled next to him to sleep.

He’ll make sure they’re all chipped and fixed, too.

There’s a grey tiger cat that loves to be with him. He’s named it Owl because it fits.

Owl will chase mice and kill them, bring it back to him proudly. He goes with Lester on his rides and will eat out of the kill pit if no one is looking.

[shoyoist]

ﾟ+* ꔫ — 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 : hanma shuji.

content: f!reader. bad toman!shuji. mentions of murder, blood and violence. use of guns and knives. some sort of mutual pining. work partners to fwbs to lovers kinda thing. you fuck on the hood of his car that's parked in an alley, you suck blood off his fingers, he licks blood off your body (not your own). unprotected sex, fingering, biting, body marking, shuji's a little crazy v_v.

word count: about 4.0k

— . ｡˚ ♡ when kisaki gives hanma a little ‘birthday treat’ by sending him on a hunt for some traitors, he makes you go with him as a leash. and hanma decides he wants to have a little more fun, with you.

an: i'm terribly late but here it is! happy birthday shuji my love.

the night is still — the sky dark, the moon blocked out by the heaviness of the clouds, and the expanse overhead stretches like a void, consuming all that lay underneath.

the sounds of the city fade further away, giving way to the clack of your heels and the thud of hanma's shoes against the asphalt with every step you take away from the main streets — following him as he turns wildly around the final corner into an alley, and you both at last make it to a safe place.

you stop just short of bumping into him, and the scent of sweat and drying blood, mixed with a familiar hint of cigarettes and men's cologne, invades your senses with your next breath.

you taste rust on your tongue, at the back of your throat, and now that you've stopped running, the smell and the taste remind you of how badly you've both just fucked your mission up.

"you know what," hanma laughs, barely out of breath as he lurches to a stop beside his car, parked unceremoniously at the back of the alley, concealed by the shadows of the buildings and midnight gloom. "i take it back. kisaki knew what he was doing when he sent me out to work on my birthday."

he gives his gun a little shake, watching as it spews the last wisp of smoke from its mouth, before putting it back in his pocket and turning to you with a grin. "heh, that was the most fun i've had in a while."

oh, you know he had fun.

you've known hanma quite well for quite a while, even intimately so because you've fucked on occasion, but still — you think you'll never quite get used to seeing him like this.

his suit had been clean when you'd left headquarters earlier that night — it was a grey two piece, form fitting and accentuating his lanky figure, and it was as expensive as it was lovely.

but when you'd watched him in the warehouse, told to stand by on guard in case someone interrupted his little kill job, you'd witnessed how he dirtied it, how he got it covered in blood.

the sleeves were dripping red, his white dress shirt splattered with arterial spray — and you couldn't tell if it was his own blood or not that was trickling down his chin, as he slid his tongue out to lick it up.

"fuckin' shit, you are," he'd cackled, on his haunches over the victim of his hunt, as the man under him screamed for mercy. "think you can fuck my boss over and get away with it? i'll kill you. yeah? say my fuckin' name with your last fuckin' breath."

and when he'd gotten back up, his hair was tousled, black and blonde curls falling over lusty gold eyes as he threw his head back and laughed — tall and broad shouldered, with a long, freshly used blade in his hand and with his pale skin stained red with blood, he'd laughed.

and god, he looked so fucking hot.

but you can't focus on that right now. you're too busy trying to catch your breath, and though you're glad you've escaped safely, though he'd looked so hot playing his game of being a ruthless villain — the task you were assigned with was still ultimately fucked. "shuji, what is wrong with you?"

and instead of feeling remorse or staying quiet, hanma just laughs. again. "babydoll, i think we need to do this more often. you're getting out of shape."

"kisaki said—" you're cut off by your own coughing, and hanma rests a bloodstained hand on the small of your back as you bend down and brace yourself with your hands against your knees. "kisaki said keep things under cover and deliver the body to the harbor, not make a whole massacre out of one little kill job and then be all fucking careless and almost get shot to death by the other guy hiding under a fucking cardboard box."

"hey," he rubs your back, thumb catching on the red satin of your dress as he presses into it, trying to get a feel of your softness. "i didn't die. you saved me."

"you almost died!" you protest — "you nearly fucking died and you would be bleeding out through a hole in your head right now, had i not been there to shoot down that other man first. who fucking knew he was even there?"

"you did save me." he smiles. "two birds with one stone! now hush. you're being a little too loud."

right.

"and who knows how many other people know what we were doing there tonight." you mutter sourly, thinking of how much trouble you'd all have to go through to cover up all that had happened tonight. if you didn't send people over to clean the bloody mess hanma had left at the warehouse tonight, there would be no escaping things.

you'd lose a lot of cash, at the very least, bribing people to stay blind and mute to the murder. "someone ratted us out. there's more traitors around, shuji. there were more people coming. that's why we had to fucking run for our lives all the way till we got here."

"you're right, babydoll." he says softly, rubbing your back for you as you sigh — and you'd believe he'd finally snapped out of his adrenaline high and sobered up, if he wasn't using that petname on you. "we've got more hunting to do."

you glance up when you catch something glinting between hanma's clothes, and you notice that the knife he had used to slash his victim up was carelessly stabbed into the folds of his own suit—

something he'd recklessly done that you hadn't noticed, as he'd grabbed your arm and run off with you, thanking you in a maniacal fit of giggles for shooting down the guy that would've shot him in the back of the head and killed him, had you been too late.

he's crazy.

"fuck's sake. at least you had your fun." you sigh again, and hanma steps closer to you still, chuckling as he runs his fingertips lightly up your spine. "i did, baby. it's my birthday, remember? i'm supposed to have fun."

you can feel the heat radiating from his body even from here — it chases away the cold, lets you feel some of the fire that's burning in him. "take that stupid knife out of your poor suit."

"you mad the suit's ruined?" hanma pouts, and you roll your eyes at him.

"enough." you mutter, straightening back up and taking another breath.

the polished surface of the car gleams in the light of the street lamp buzzing across the street, as you walk over, squeezing into the narrow space between the alley wall and the car door to open the shotgun. god, he had to park the thing in a place like this, too.

"we need to get home quick. you're all fucking dirty, and you'd be in worse shape if i hadn't been here to haul your ass. kisaki sent me with you so i'd keep you from getting killed or caught red-handed."

"aw, come on baby." hanma coos, shrugging his shoulders as if to claim his innocence, watching while you lean uncomfortably into the car and pull out disinfectant and a clean towel from the bag under the shotgun seat.

he watches as you struggle, twisting your body and cursing under your breath as you work through it. he remembers — how you'd watched him cut that man up, how you'd looked so enamoured by his violence, so afraid yet excited all at once, as you'd listened to him talk and watched him gut the man like a fish.

he remembers how you had run up to him, almost losing your footing in those cute little heels of yours as you pushed him aside and pointed your gun behind him, the weapon already loaded and with the hammer pulled back as you pulled the trigger — and shot another man that had somehow stayed silently hidden behind the boxes at the back the entire time.

"fuck," you'd gasped, and hanma had seen the anger, the fear and the flooding relief in your eyes as the man crumpled to the floor. then, you'd been interrupted yet again by the screeching of motorcycle tyres outside. "we need to get out of here, shuji. now."

and hanma's cold, ruthless heart had fluttered. you cared for him, didn't you? truly.

aw, he had thought. she loves me!

oblivious to his stare, you squeeze back out and set the bottle on the hood of the car, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder, turning him around and examining his condition.

half of his face is swathed in shadow, and half is bathed in the fluorescent light of the street lamp. you see the smatter of blood on his cheek, the stain of it at his lip and on his chin where he'd licked it away earlier.

there's drying blood all over his clothes, trails of it down his neck and spread over the white of his shirt, from when he drove his knife into the man's chest and it had cut a vessel, spraying blood all over him.

"take the jacket off." you say, and he does so.

the white shirt stretches across his shoulders, the buttons at the top undone to make it easier for him to move in the thing. the hem of it had somehow stayed mostly tucked into his pants the whole time, and the buckle of his belt shines gold as you looked down at it. his pants hug his legs, showing off his thighs and calves as he stands there, smirking down at you like he's reading your thoughts.

shit, he looks so good.

the round lens of his glasses flash as he turns according to your push, the edges flecked with drops of red — and when you reach up and take them off, his eyes glimmer gold, along with the dopey smile he gives you. "babydoll, you're my lil life saver, aren't you?"

his voice lilts with the words, and instantly, you know what he's trying to start. you say nothing, but the meeting of your eyes with his is all he needs to continue.

he towers over you, shadow falling on you and shielding you from the light as he draws closer. the thick scent of cigars, cologne and blood grows stronger, and you breathe it all in — and his smile widens along with the rise of your chest.

"shuji, wait." you try, but your tone is half hearted and you know he catches it. "i need to clean you up first."

"you're all dirty too, you know?" he hums. his right hand comes back up, still sticky and red with blood as he cups your cheek with his palm, lifting your face up towards his. "such a gorgeous fuckin' sight, when you're covered in blood and holdin' a gun."

it's true. right after you'd told hanma that you both needed to get out of there immediately, you'd fallen on your ass into a pool of the first man's flesh and blood. your arms, your dress and your legs were all dirty with it, and now with hanma's touching, your face is dirty, too.

"shuji," you repeat. "not now. we need to get back, report to kisaki, and send people to cover up the messes you made."

"that can wait, can't it?" he presses even closer to you, placing sin flat against your stomach and giving you a light push.

he coaxes you to sit up on the hood of his car, the metal cold and smooth against your bare thighs, exposed by the short length of your pencil skirt — and you almost fall against it as hanma pushes himself between your legs and lowers his face to yours, bending down so he can get a good look at your pretty face. "haven't had a taste of you in a while, doll. don't you miss me?"

his palm slides over from your stomach to your waist, fingers squeezing at your flesh over the fabric as he slides his palm higher up. "it's my birthday. can't turn me down just like that. that's mean."

"sh—shuji," you say, trying your hardest to sound composed but it's so hard when he's so close, so hot, and his voice is so low and delicious in your ear. "not here—"

"can't." he groans almost dramatically, hand making it up to your ribs before he slides his palm to your back, toying with the zipper that's hiding under the slit of satin at the middle of your back. "i can't wait. you don't fuckin' know what you do to me, huh? so fuckin' hot, all dressed up, covered in blood and bossing me around like you're my little wife."

and with a whirr of tiny metal teeth unhooking from eachother, your zipper is undone, and your dress hangs loosely at your chest.

"your hands are bloody, shuji." you protest, but your voice is reduced to little more than a whine — he's so hot it's overpowering. "can't touch me like that."

"suck my fingers clean for me then." he says, and laughs when you scrunch up your nose and scowl. he takes a moment to grab the bottle of disinfectant, pours some into his palm and lathers it over his hands and arms. the bloodstains disappear somewhat, but his fingertips remain red, skin and nails etched with blood.

wiping it off with the towel, he presents his hands to you again. "happy? now, suck them off for me, like you'd do to my dick." he doesn't wait for your answer, pushing his thumb past your lips and into your mouth, and you taste blood and disinfectant on your tongue— "mmph!"

"shhh, it's okay, baby." hanma chuckles, tapping your cheek with his index finger. "go on. i know you missed having daddy's fingers in your mouth."

fuck — hearing him call himself daddy makes you go weak. and he knows, god, he knows — you see it in the way his eyes darken, the way his grin widens as you curl a hand around his wrist and suck on his thumb, leaning into his touch. "that's it, there's daddy's good girl."

the edges of his eyes catch the light from the street lamp, glowing in a halo of gold as he watches you closely, letting out little groans of pleasure as you suck harder and harder.

he gives you another finger, and then another — and his other hand first pulls at his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it off, letting out a sigh as he then brings the hand over to your thigh. this time, it's punishment, and he slides it under your skirt swiftly, fingers tugging at your panties and urging you to lift your ass of the hood a little so he can take them off.

"'s my little doll gonna be quiet for me?" he croons, pulling the lace garment down and yanking it off along with your heels — you feel them slip off, hear the heels clatter onto the ground. "we're outside, aren't we? 'n even if we're alone, you're gonna hafta stay quiet. or do you need me stuffin' these panties in your mouth?"

"n—mm," you shake your head, trying to speak around a mouth full of his fingers, and he laughs, wishing it was his cock making your cheeks bulge like that, but he doesn't have the patience to play right now.

he needs his cock in your cunt.

"good girl," he gives you a smile, showing teeth as he presses into you, giving your pussy a quick swipe with two of his fingers to gather up your leaked slick onto them and pop them in his mouth for a taste. "mm, fuck, baby," he grunts, eyes rolling up as he exhales, hot over your neck. "so good. so wet for me tonight — y'like seeing me kill people, ah?"

"mhm," you moan, not even sure what you're saying anymore, more interested in the way he's pushing your legs further apart, fumbling with the zipper of his pants and pulling his cock out from within, the heady tip red and hungry to be buried in the velvet walls of your cunt.

"a dirty fuckin' slut, aren't ya? heh," he giggles, voice so deep yet playful at the same time as he slips his fingers out of your mouth, his other arm curling around your waist, forearm against your bare back because he's unzipped your dress already, pulling you in as he tries to angle himself right.

"shit, baby," he grunts, wet fingers going under your skirt to touch your pussy — digging through the folds and touching your clit before he's bringing them down to sink into your entrance. "move a little f'me? daddy wants his cock in you, doll. let me fuckin' get in there."

"hah," you gasp at the curl of his fingers in your cunt, warm, wet walls clenching around them and squelching loudly as you lean back onto your elbows on the car's hood, feeling it bend a little under your weight as you spread your legs further and wrap them around hanma's waist, dragging him in. "please, shuji — daddy, need it. hurry up, fuck."

"'m givin' it, doll." he moans, laughing hoarsely when he pushes his fingers in deeper and your pussy squelches again. "fuck, pussy's louder than your mouth tonight, huh? naughty girl."

he slips his fingers back out, lands a sudden slap on your cunt that makes you cry out, and laughs as he grabs his cock and strokes it, still caged into your body by your legs wrapped around his waist.

"daddy," you whine, and he moves in for a kiss, meeting your lips with his mouth open, forcing his tongue in your mouth and tasting the blood — and he chuckles into your mouth, brows screwing together as he tastes the bitter tang of disinfectant that followed.

you're really his little slut, huh? sucking on his fingers even when they tasted like that?

"shhh," he mumbles into the corner of your mouth, giving his cock one last pump before he bumps his head to your pussy, slowly slipping himself in. "i got you, baby."

the stretch is expected — you've had him in you more than a few times, but still, it's still fucking delicious when his cock slides into you.

you feel how your walls hug his length, sucking him in as you lay on your back on the hood of his car, legs spread out and wrapped around his waist as he slowly pushes himself balls deep inside, skin cold but body hot and heart beating so loud inside with him pressed to your body, his smell and his taste cloaking you along with the metallic odour of blood.

god, he's so hot — so, so hot — "let me clean you up a little too, hm?" he hums, voice breathy with pleasure as he kisses your cheek, feeling the smatter of dried blood on your cheek against his lips, and he puts his tongue out and licks at your face, sending shivers crawling up your spine when he moans into your ear.

"heh, so good, babydoll. all of you 's so good," he says, rolling his hips in and slapping them against your ass as he slides fully into you with a heavy chuckle that sounds so good you could cum just listening to it—

and then, he bites.

he grabs your hair, curls his fingers up your nape into your messy locks and pulls your face aside to reveal your neck to him — and he bares his teeth and bites.

"a—ah! shuji!" you cry, and he laughs, digging his teeth in just hard enough for it to hurt, for it to hurt so good, before moving his face back to see how his teeth have marked your neck. "it's halloween season, baby. you'll be getting bitten sooner or later, lookin' this fuckin' fine."

"mmm—more," you moan, pulling another string of pitchy laughter from him, followed by a low growl as he bites again, lower this time but still just as hard. "fuck!".

he starts to move then, knowing he's not going to last long with how you're fluttering around him, sucking him in like you're afraid he's about to get up and leave.

there's blood on your neck too, and down your collarbones, and he licks it all up as he pulls in and out of your cunt, filling the silent alley with muted slap-slap-slap sounds and your moans, your dress falling apart to reveal your tits to him — and as he watches them bounce with each slap of his hips into you, he thinks he might go insane.

your only warning is the sight you see, of his eyes going bright, gold and narrow with want—

and then he's got you shoved onto the hood right on your back, your head against the windshield as he grabs your waist and digs his fingers into the plush skin, leaning onto the car and telling you in a rasp, "fuck, hold on f'me, pretty doll."

then, his body offers the first snap — and his cock hits your cervix so hard, your head is knocked back along with the rest of your body — he has you seeing stars.

the night sky above, that you can barely see between the two buildings on either side of the alley, is pitch black — but hanma puts stars in your eyes with how hard he fucks you.

the hinges of the car's hood whine just a little under your shared weights, but you don't hear it — not over hanma's heavy breathing, his whispered fuckfuckfuckfuck as he gets closer and closer to his high, and your open mouthed gasps for air as each thrust of his big fucking cock in your cunt knocks your breath away.

his pace is so fast, so hard, it's incredible he has so much left in him after all that fighting and all that god damn running—

but he fucks you hard, big hands holding you pinned down as he uses you all up, dress bunching up at your stomach, and your zipper digging into your back as he sends you to heaven and back on top of his car, right in this stupid little alley with a dead man's blood still wet on both your skins and clothes.

"baby," he moans, sweat glistening on his brow, at his temples, as he struggles to look at you through the bliss. "gonna cum, gonna fuckin' cum."

"want it, shuji — fuck, inside, please." you beg, eyes rolled back into your head, back arching up as you try so hard to keep your orgasm away, because you wanna cum with him, not before him.

but it's impossible — each thrust sends a pulse of white hot pleasure into your veins, the head of his cock hitting your sweetest spots so well, digging into them and leaking precum into you as he nearly loses himself and collapses on top of you, blissed out before he even cums.

"inside?" he rasps. "want it inside like you're my girl? like you're my own little thing, my slut, my girlfriend, my wife?"

"i am—" your voice breaks with the next hit of his cock into your cunt, overwhelmed and unable to hold your high back anymore. "i am your girl— mmh, gonna cum shuji, gonna cum!"

"go ahead, cum f'me," he hisses, the words sharp and needy as he bends down to kiss you again. "make me cum too, yeah? cum nice 'n hard for me 'n help me fill you all fuckin' up."

"mmgh," you swallow, as he keeps fucking into you, and you're half afraid that there's someone around to hear you by now as you feel yourself slip, as you feel the first wave of your orgasm crash down on you and your mind goes blank.

your pussy tightens around hanma's cock, so tight and hot and wet, squeezing him in a vice — and when your hands finally come up from where they've been gripping the edges of the hood to try and stay balanced, to cup his face and pull him down for another kiss, before you wrap your arms around him and drag him ontop of you, he feels your body squish under his, and fuck, it pushes him off the edge.

"cumming—" he chokes out, and you feel the thick, hot seed paint your walls white a second after, as shuji tries his best to hold himself up over you, gasping out your name as he cums.

your orgasm milks him through, pussy eating all his cum up, as he falls still with his balls against your ass, dissolving into your frame and your embrace as he breathes, so tired but feeling so fucking good at the same time. "hah—shit, baby. so good. so—so fuckin' good, i love you."

"mmm," you whimper, as he kisses your neck, his hair in your face, his glasses getting smudged on your skin. you feel his cum fill your hole up and drool out, so much cum you can't even hold all of it in. "i love you, too."

the two of you lay there for a few minutes, catching your breath and pulling yourselves together — and then shuji says, "fuck. gotta get home now."

"would've been better if we waited till then." you grumble, feeling sticky and sweaty now that the euphoria is over.

"hah, no," hanma giggles, his cheek pressed to your chest. "much better this way, dollface. don't fuckin' lie."

"hmph," you huff, running a hand through his hair — and you feel how he relaxes into your touch, purring low in his throat as you scrape your nails at the nape of his neck.

"happy birthday, shuji." you sigh, and he chuckles, low and hoarse into your skin.

"thank you, babydoll. give me an 'i love you'?"

"i love you." you hum, tilting your head forward to kiss his hair — and you ignore the way he lifts himself up to stare at you and coo like you hadn't just said it minutes ago. "now come on, let's fucking go home, shuji. i'm tired."

"okay, okay. but — since it's my birthday and since you love me … you drive."

"shuji."

"fuck, fine. you're no fun."

and there's nobody to hear it, but if there were, then they'd hear two killers laughing together, huddled up ontop of a car in an alley in the middle of a late October night, after having freshly added to their body counts just that very same night <3

[starsomens]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 2・𝓦𝓱𝓸 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂����𝓾 ?

̩͙‿‿༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿   ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ̩͙‿

Warnings: mentions of blood, short mention of a severed finger (not detailed), language, asshole Noah still lmaooo, like 1 person gets shot (it’s not fatal), not proofread

̩͙‿‿༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿   ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ̩͙‿

Your body ached as you stretched the muscles. You body unraveled from the blankets like a flower blooming in the morning. Your stare up at the ceiling and see that it really isn’t a dream, and you didn’t wake up in your bed. The wedding ring still on your finger and your wedding dress long forgotten on the floor.

There was a knock at the door, looking under the sheets you had only slept in your underwear. Luckily there was a robe hung near the door. Grabbing it quickly, you cover yourself and open the door. You expected Noah or Alfred but instead see a short woman. Her dark hair starting to grey as she took over her face.

“Good morning ma’am. I am Vilma. I’m the housekeeper for Mr.Sebastian, however I am also assigned to you.” She stated

“A-assigned to me?” You ask confused

“Yes ma’am, any help or questions I can answer for you, I’m just a call away. Today I’ll be showing you around the mansion. I did bring you some temporary clothes while your things are delivered later today.” She handed you a neatly folded set of clothes “please forgive me if they are not up to your standards. They are some of my older clothes from when I was younger, but it would be better than just the robe”

You could feel your chest swell from the sweetness of Vilma. The sense of sweetness and warmth you could run into in the last 24 hours. How could someone so sweet work for someone like Noah?

“Thank you Vilma, this is more than enough” you thank her taking the clothes

“Now go on and get ready I’ll be waiting downstairs for you in the kitchen.” She nodded and made her way to the stairwell. Closing the door you walk over to the dresser that held a large mirror above it. You have out of breath as you look at yourself in the mirror you pick up your hair in a quick bun and get dressed. The clothes Vilma had given you were casual, but very comfortable. And they nearly fit like they were your own clothes.

After getting dressed, you exit your room and head out into the hall. You didn’t quite take a look around the first time since he just wanted to be alone, but the mansion was very big. And as much as you hated to admit it, it was very beautiful. It had a modern, but classic look with black and white trimmings along with some oak accents in the furniture. Course someone with this amount of money must have expensive taste. What else were you expecting.

You go down the stairs and try to find your way into the kitchen of course the smell of breakfast being cooked. After you enter into the kitchen you walk over and take a seat at the dining table. The kitchen was very large and beautiful had almost a Spanish structure. Vilma walks over to you with a plate of breakfast and a smile on her face. She sets it down with a cup of orange juice and tells you to enjoy. Another set of footsteps walks into the kitchen and who else but Noah. He finishes buttoning up his pure white dress shirt, as vans him a mug of coffee.

“Thank you Vilma” he takes a sip of the coffee “Jolly is going to be coming around later today to drop off some shipments. He’s also going to stay until I get back from the port. Make sure she stays out of the west wing.” he said, nodding his head towards you as if you weren’t even in the room. Didn’t even have the decency to use your name. You roll your eyes and scar softly as you continue to consume your breakfast.

“ yes sir, is there anything else?” She drying her hands from washing up the dishes

“that’s all. I’ll call if anything changes.” he seemingly chugged the rest of the hot drink and places it into the sink and passes by you without a glance. So this is what it was going to be like huh? You might as well just stay in your room for the rest of your life.

“And Y/N” he stops at the doorway “ you are not to leave. All of your things be delivered later with Jolly. Do you understand?” he ask you your main quiet and simply put another piece of food in your mouth.

“ I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. do you understand?” he again fully turning his body to you.

“ yeah whatever” you didn’t even bother to look at him. of course tall tattooed man ruled his own eyes at you and made his leave

“ my ,my what a pair you two are” Velma shakes her head. “ I’ve been working with Noah, since he was very young and he definitely has not grown out of his sassiness, but you were probably one of the first people I’ve seen give him back the same sass. I’m very impressed.”

“ well, I’m not gonna let him push me around or tell me what to do” you standing up from your seat with the plate in hand. Vilma offered to take it and wash it for you “ no Velma it’s okay I’ve got it. You may eat breakfast the least I can do is help you wash up.”

You told Velma a bit about your child and as you helped her clean up the kitchen. She was honestly like having a grandmother around. Her aura was so motherly and uncomforting. It’s so easy to open up to her. At least you had someone to talk to in this hell.

After she began to show you around, beginning on the first floor, where the kitchen dining room and living room can be found. It had a modern yet classical look with velvet cushions, a fireplace, and an alcohol cabinet. Vilma leads you upstairs to explore the east wing of the mansion. She showed you the main bathroom most guests can use, a quiet study, 2 spare guest bedrooms and, an extra hallway closet that was the size of a child's room.

"Is this place always this cold Vilma?" you ask her feeling a chill run through your body

"I'm afraid so, Noah tends to keep the mansion at 70. But you tend to get used to it" she chuckles

"Right, is there anything I could around here aside from stay attached to you?" you asked "I just don't want to be a bother to you is all"

"Oh I wouldn't ask you of that dear I tend to-" just then the doorbell rang "Oh that must be Mr. Jolly." she said motioning for you to follow her "Now Mr. Jolly is one of Noah's dear friends and bussiness partners. In total there are 4, you should meet them later on" she goes and check the ring camera and in fact sees Jolly. As she opens the door a tall man, just a bit shorter than Noah steps into the home. He had long wavy hair, and bear and mustache but didn't seem to carry the same dark aura Noah did

"Aahh Vilma! It's so good to see you, how are you?" he said giving her a hug

"Oh just fine Mr. Jolly" she said propping the door open to help bring in some bags and boxes

"Vilma for the last time, it's just Jolly," he then turns to you "and you must be Y/N, a pleasure" he offers you his hand and you take it in a firm shake

"Jolly was it?" you asked curious of this man truly was named jolly

"Well, Joakim, but Jolly is what everyone calls me" he smiled at you "So, how are things with Mr. Perfection?" he asked

"Do you really want to know?" you ask casting your gaze to the bags that were being brought in, containing your things most likely.

"He always tend to be the lady killer of us 4. Always had the girls head over heels. But he tends to be cold and distant, but then again…I guess that’s what brings the women in” he said scratching at his beard

"If that's what you call going in sane then sure." you mumble causing the man to laugh

"thats why Joakim is around eh? To be the opposite and balance him out" he picked up 3 large bags at a time “Well I have to get these into his office before he strangles me, we’ll talk soon Y/N” he gives you a nod and begins to take the large bags into the east wing. Of course he was allowed there, but you cousins really argue on that could you?

You grabbed a few of your own bags and head to your room to start putting things away. You at least had you clothes and shoes now. Luckily they packed some of your books as well. Ima separate small box some family photos were also sent. The family portrait sent a pang through your chest. A frown now decorates your face as you set up the frames somewhere you’d be able to see them everyday. You sigh and grab your phone, you make a quick call to your mother hoping she’d pick it up.

“Hello? Y/N? My love are you okay??”

“Hi mom, I’m okay,” you answer “just missing you guys…..a lot”

“…honey if…no this isn’t right. Just come home! We’ll be okay sweetie! We can get lawyers, protection services anything!” She starts to rant

“Mom…we both know that’s not how this works. The last thing I want is for any of you to be in danger because k broke a contract” you sigh in half defeat

“I know Y/N, but this is your life we’re talking about. I’ll still try and find a way to get you out of there. I promise you!”

Before you could response to her you open another bags but your heart drops gazing into the bag.

“Mom I’ll call you back.” She kept talking as you hang up the phone and open the bag completely. It was bag full of money but it reeks! Some bills had some blood stains on them, but it wasn’t anything you were used to. You reach for the cash but pull your hand back. Pushing past your thoughts you stick your hand into the bag and move the cash around. All the other bills looked just fine so why was there-

“Huh?” That’s odd, you felt something….squishy? Grasping the item you pull your hand up and was met face to face with a severed finger. You could feel you blood cold as you let out a squeal and drop the finger to the ground. You slowly back out of your room your gaze never leaving the body part on the floor. You back up and run into a body making you jump and spin around

“You know we’re married so the money is also yours” it was Noah “you don’t have to take a bag” he gave you the stupid smirk he’s given you from start and you hated it.

“I didn’t take your stupid money” you huff “someone brought it to my room alright? Which by the way has a fucking finger in it!”

“You really like pushing limits don’t you flower?” He said pushing past you “lets go.” He simply said sliming the bag over his shoulder

“Go? Where?” You ask as he starts in the direction his half of the mansion

“To my office, come.” He gives you a single glance over his shoulder, not bothering to wait for you. You cross your arms and follow behind his footsteps. You stay quiet as you follow the tall male

“I thought I wasn’t allowed here”

“You’re Not. You’re only coming because I said so. After this you’re still not allowed here” he corrects you

“Mhm” you look out of the window and gaze into t eh garden you had no idea existed! “So is the prisoner allowed to go out?” You asked

“I can care less about you going into t he garden, we’ll discuss everything else in my office” he stops T two grand doors, similar to your father’s. He unlocks his using a key and walks in first. So much for Gentlemen.

“Close the door” he sighs setting the bag near his desk “ as you know obviously right now it’s not you frankly you’re going to stubborn to be part of a contract” he starts. You roll your eyes at the comment, knowing he basically meant every word he was saying about you.

“ That doesn’t mean I don’t have a job reputation to uphold. Which means you as my wife sometimes have to attend certain events with me whether you like it or not, we’re gonna be spending a lot of time with each other.“

“ OK was kind of expected it’s not gonna enjoy myself just going because I have to. Besides, can you get one of your so many girls to go with you and pose as your wife“ you ask him as you walk towards his desk

“ I mean I could, but word gets around pretty fast going with some other girl I have to go with a headache“ he said walking towards you and stops just a few feet in front of you. You were leaned onto the side of his desk with your arms, staring up at him, as if he were merely an ant. It wasn’t as if he could make you disappear off the face of the Earth with without a trace, and have a completely covered up within 24 hours. As much as Noah was not enjoying himself, he had to admit he did admire your boldness, but he also thought it was very stupid.

“Awh he also thinks I’m a headache. I can’t wait to see that fake routine in front of everyone.” you roll your eyes at him.

“ do you know eventually if you keep rolling your eyes like that, your eyes are gonna fall out of your sockets” he remarked, stepping closer “ in fact, that little mouth of yours is going to get you a whole lot of trouble if you keep it up” he continued to step closer to you until he was towed to toe, and you were slightly leaning back on his desk to keep a distance

“ What if it does? what exactly are you gonna do to? Kill me? Keep me locked away?” You begin to push your boundaries

Noah Leans forward until his hands hit The edge of the desk. Nearly laying you down with your back flat on the cold furniture.

And he whispers “ oh, I can think of 100 things, little flower” his voice was deep and husky, and then a sense it felt dangerous “ I will push you past your limits and break that little mind of yours.”

“ is that all?” You asked.

“ oh, no, it could be a lot more I can do” his hand, comes to your jaw once more, and brings you close to his face “ just keep trying you’ll be getting there soon enough” he paints a kiss your cheek. A hypocrisy to how he was gripping your jaw keeping you in place.

He finally lets go and keeps his eye on you as he walks over to what looked like a closet in his office he pulls out a red dress and held it up. It was a sleek off the shoulder dress with a delicate leg slit on the left side.

“ Don’t even ask if it fits you. It’s your size. Be ready by six sharp, we need to be there by 6:30. I’m not gonna wait for you.” he said, handing you the dress “ and try not to take your whole face with make up, three hours to get ready in the meantime, I have things out to work on you have any questions ask Vilma.” he walks over to the door and opens it as if kicking you out without a word you huff and you walk out of his office. He stepped out of the wooden doors. A tap was met with your left ass cheek. You look back pissed as hell, ready to unleash a world of

“ hopefully don’t find any more fingers in your bedroom” he teased with a mischievous smirk, knowing damn well that that finger freaked you out

“Asshole” you mumble as you continue to walk down the hallway with your head held high. You don’t care how much he would. “humiliate” you, you walk with your head held high and your dignity and pride higher. You guess he had nothing else better to do so you went back to your room to get ready. You did a half up half down here do with some loose curls at the end. Some delicate Rosie make up and a bold red lip to match your dress. And of course a little eyeliner never hurt anyone. It was already 5:50. All you had to do was get your dress on.

You managed to get into the dress and zip it just up to your mid back, but couldn’t get the rest. You needed help and hope that Vilma was around. You poke your head out of your room door and call out for her.

“ Vilma? Vilma are you still around?” You called out, but didn’t get a response. You thought it was strange seeing us how she was the housekeeper. You step out of the room and walk down the hall just a bit to see if maybe you could run into her. She was probably in another room in the house.

“ Vosen finished her shift for the day” and of course, no surprise you turn around to find Noah again “if you need help you just ask you know”

“ look I just-“

“ just shut up and turn around” side and turn around reluctantly, so that he could zip you up. His slender and slightly cold fingers touch your bareback as he zips up the dress to fit you perfectly. He stood there and took a look at you as you turned around in the dress. “ see it wasn’t so bad, Jesse looks good on you. Who knows maybe the dress just made you look better.”

“ oh ha ha, this suit makes you look more decent, but it still doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re basically an asshole “you snap back at him

“ you know I always wondered why some people liked feisty women. I can see why really keeps me from dying of boredom. Go get your burger whatever you have to bring with you, we’re leaving.”

He said making his way down the stairs, not even offering you help. You go back to your room and grab a small pocketbook along with your phone and of course some pepper spray just in case, because you could never be too careful. You come back into the hallway and down the stairs his gave me never leaving your form with each step you take. His gays scanned up and down like a predator analyzing its prey

“are you done staring?” ask him with an eyebrow raised.

“What can I say? I picked a good dress, come on” he said motioning his head towards the door. Outside was parked a sleek black car worth 4 times more the dress you were wearing. Different from the SUV Alfred had driven you in.

“Is Alfred not taking us?” You asked as he opened the passenger seat

“Alfred escorts me at times, but I like my own driving at times” as you take a seat into the expensive vehicle he shuts the door and makes his way open to the seat. The weight of the car shifts as another person is added to it. Putting the current drive the engine rev as you roll out of the rounded entrance of the mansion. The gates closed behind you and you were off to the event.

“ so exactly what kind of event is this? You ask him curious as to exactly where you were going to dress as if you were about to walk on the red carpet. Scanning his own suit it was different from the one he had worn before he wore his slacks but switched out his button-down and tie for a black turtleneck instead. His hair was combed with most of it to one side.

“ oh, for one people been nagging me to meet you second off, this is a general dinner that people within this business has to catch up and make sure everyone is where they should be. Money and businesswise.” he informed he never taking his eyes off the road.

“ Will my father be attending? “ you ask him

“ no he’s no longer the head of your family, especially the business part. Most likely Matthew might be there, but because he still knew all of this, he might not make an appearance, so don’t keep your hopes up.” he answers. “I just hope that your ass behaves. No smart remarks, no talking back, no sad comments or mumbling. You get that?” he answers as he stops at the red light. The red light, illuminating his face in a demonic, yet hypnotic way. Highlighting his features, his sharp jawline and nose, his deep, mysterious eyes.

” so I should just let you walk all over me then,” your head sarcastically “ what if I run into snot nose brat doesn’t know how to stop running your mouth?” You ask him sarcastically

“ well then you’ll have a little friend find common ground with”

Life is being and without taking his gaze away from you, he steps on the gas. He zigs and zags through the traffic. Every time he would glance over you, your heart would race a little because his eyes were off the road.

It is a long since before you knew it you were at the location. It was a very exclusive and very private gathering. there were other cars there much like his, some money, money on wheels at this point. You see men like your father, chatting outside, well, puffing smoke from their mouth and nostrils from the cigars that they held in their hands. They gave you a weird vibe, seeming to be the type of men to marry women and have trophy lives. Already had years of marriage under your belt exactly how to manipulate them. You made a mental note to stay clear of them.

You pull on the car door handle and open your door only to have it closed right away. Of course, Noah being as tall as he was his arms are long enough to reach your handle door again and turns your face to meet his gay but doesn’t hold your face like he did the last few times.

“Y/N, listen to me” his tone became authoritative “when we get in there, you stay close to me, you don’t say a word to them unless they greet you, and DO NOT, wonder on your own. Do you understand?”

“It’s just a party” you scrunch your eyebrows at him

“Fucking Christ” he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose “just fucking listen for once and don’t argue with me”

He gets out of the car before you could respond. You grab your things and open the door, Noah is already in your side to give you a hand to get out of the car. Taking your hand in his, he tucks it into his elbow taking his title as husband very seriously now that you were there. As you approach the door there is a muscular man guarding the door. He looks at Noah and then you and opens the door for you to talk in. You step into a grand hall with a glamorous chandelier. An older man starts to approach you and Noah and Noah clears his throat to whisper

“Follow me”

“Noah my boy! It’s good to see you” he said with open arms, Noah lets you go to give him a strong handshake, his gaze falls on to you next “I heard you married a lovely lady but nobody said she was this gorgeous!” He chuckles taking you hand in his and b shaking it delicately

“John, it’s a pleasure”

“Y/N,” you answer with a small tight smile, Noah’s hand finds the small of your back and he brings you into his side “the pleasure is mine”

“Listen why don’t you both get comfortable before the meeting starts, I’ll see you soon” he excuses himself and moves to the next guest

Noah then leads you down a grand hallway

“I’m going to be meeting with other heads of the organization, you aren’t allowed in.” He explains

“Huh? Why not?” You asked

“Because it’s none of your damn business. So you will behave and sit in a waiting room just for occasions like this. Got it?” He said caroling at an entrance to what looked like a living room area. There were 3 other women inside and some children as well. At least you wouldn’t be stuck in a room on your own.

“You’ll wait here until I’m done. DO NOT leave with anyone outside of this room, if you need the bathroom it’s down the hall to the left and it’ll be the only door there” he explained pointing down the length of the carpeted hallway.

“….fine, how long is this going to take?” You stare up at him, almost like a child who didn’t get their way.

“At most 2 hours, I’ll come get you when we’re done” he said turning away

“Why can’t I just go ho- back to the mansion?”

“Because you have to be here, now shut up and get in there” he cute you off as he steps into the room. The smell of cologne, cigars and alcohol leaked out into the hallway. You groan and take in a deep breath before walking into the waiting area. One woman who seem to be the mother of the two children there turned her head for a quick glance turn back. She had a short, bob cut, and we can only describe his classic makeup. Almost as if coming straight out of the 1950s. There’s another woman who has stood near a glass door that led to a balcony overlooking the scenery from the building. The building was placed near a cliff where there was a gorgeous outlook of the ocean. The moonlight pouring into the warm light of the chandelier. She held a cigarette over her left hand while her right arm crossed over her body to hold her left elbow. She didn’t even turn to look at you, as if nothing was even happening behind her. All you could see was her long blue gown and her platinum blonde hair running down her back.

The last woman you took note of was sitting on a couch with her nose in a book. Her hair was done up into a bun with some pins in it. Seeing as she may have been the calmest and most peaceful in the room, you go and sit on the other end of the couch. She took a quick gaze at you from behind her book. Brown eyes blinked at you and then go back to her page.

You hesitant to say anything or even attempt to speak to someone that was until someone had cleared their throat, and was now standing in front of you. It was the blonde woman who was just smoking outside of the window a few seconds ago.

“So, this is the mystery woman everyone has been wondering about“ she scans you with her sharp blue eyes, and the disapproving pout on her lips “do you even know what you’re doing here? who you’re married to?” She was interrogating you as if she had personal business with you. In a strange way it was intimidating, but in an annoying way.

But of course, you fire back because you wouldn’t stay shut “ and you are who exactly?” You ask giving her the same up-and-down scan she gave you.

“ Denise, the one who is actually supposed to be in your place” what does she mean by that?

“ what?”

“ marry, Noah. He and I were supposed to marry and continue the business as it should have been. Yet here he is married to you. A spoiled brat who thinks she knows everything because she saw her daddy holding a gun.”

“ Denise that is enough” The elder woman with children spoke up. “ none of this is her fault or her and frankly it is none of your business”

“ oh, Noah is my business. Whatever wants to take away is immediately my business.”

You stand up from and hold your head high, despite her being a couple of inches above you. You were biting your tongue wanting to say something snarky back or even throw a punch but instead you hold your nose high and your head and walk out of the room.

“ you have gone too far. You need to let the Pasco because it is not happening…” you hear as you exit the room voices the further you get away. You walked down the hallway towards the bathroom and make a right turn like Noah said.

The hallway was dimly lit, and eerily quiet for having so many people in the building. I didn’t know that they were only being a single door? Why were you looking at three? Shit, you must’ve taken a wrong turn. You turn yourself around and walked back down the hallway instead of watching the hall that laid in front of you you watched your feet with every step that you took deep in your thoughts about what Denise had just. You weren’t jealous, you weren’t envious, this wasn’t something you chose, but at the same time you really started question

Who was Noah Sebastian? Sure he was a mafia boss one of the biggest. you’re more than sure he’s killed, from what Jolly told you he’s a magnet, and from what you know, he can sometimes be a bipolar asshole. But who was he?

As he turned the corner of the hallway to go to the bathroom, should be you run into someone.

“Whoa there, you okay- oh,” at a man who stood at about 5 foot, 10. He had light brown hair and striking green eyes “ didn’t think I’d find such attractive lady here tonight”

You looked almost like a deer cotton headlights, not knowing how to react or what to say to the man that stood in front of you. It was safe to say that he looked like the type to harass girls into giving him their phone number only to ghost them in a week, you immediately wanted nothing to do with him

“ I should go there, expecting me back” you make up a bullshit excuse to get away. You round around him and start to walk just a bit faster.

“ come on sweetheart nothing more a little fun between strangers” he chuckled as he reached for your arm and pulled you back towards him “don’t be boring”

“I have a husband, and frankly I’m not one bit. Interested in you now. Let me go.” You said, pushing off of him, but his grip only became fierce the more he tugged against him.

”Ooo you’re a fighter. I like when they’re a little feisty, it gives me a challenge” He pushes you against the wall trapping you completely with your arm pinned over your head. His face comes uncomfortably close to your face as he whispers into your ear. “ just one night that’s all. That’s all I’m asking you.”

“NOAAAHHH!” You call out to the last person you thought you’d call out to knowing that it would possibly be your only salvation.

“Noah? You’re calling out for the most selfish and self-centered person in this building thing he’s gonna come and save you? Hey well that’s pathetic.”

You shut your eyes tightly, praying, hoping and begging to any God or deity that could save you now.

It was silent, and the only thing you heard, was the caulk of a gun, and the rupture of a bullet, leaving its chamber. The man that was once holding you against your whale, now screaming as your hand falls down to your side. Open your eyes slowly and see the brunette sitting on the floor and he held his knee. Assuming that he was shot in the knee look in the opposite direction to see Noah standing next to you. Gun in hand as he looks down on the man as he was the most worthless dirt he had ever stepped on.

“Really? You have grown out of this habit?” Noah grumbled in his direction, taking his foot and stepping on his wound to apply pressure. “ have you been taught to stay away from things that aren’t yours?”

“ it’s not like you were gonna pay attention to her anyway” he has his back

“Y/N,” he steps away from the man and goes to you “did he hurt you? Touch you?” he asked scanning you over

"No...I'm fine..." you said softly, Noah clenches his jaw and takes his coat off. He drapes it over your shoulders and leads you by the small of your back and pushes you gently

"Jared," he stops and speaks over his shoulder "You come near or touch my wife again, I'll cut you hand off."

The drive home was silent. Not a word, smart remark, sassy response. Nothing. The lights and buildings passed almost like a blur, you mind was racing, but you also felt as if you were at a standstill. However, you did have to ask him

"Who was...Denise to you?" there was a gap of silence before he answers

"She was an ex, of a sort. Nothing went past half a year or so. Why?"

Shrugging your shoulders you say "Met her. She called me a bitch and said it should have been her"

"fuck" he cursed under his breath "Look just ignore her, she's out of her mind and we-"

"but she was right" you sigh as the car comes to a halt in front of the home. You unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the car "I have no idea who you are Noah Sebastian"

"Y/N." he calls for you as you shut the door and walk to the door without him. He comes out and follows you, "Y/N, believe what you want about me, but if you chose to believe her then you'd be the idiot" he mumbles as he unlocks the door to the large home. The inside just as cold as the outside, your heels clacking against the tile as you approach the stairs

"An idiot for marrying you yes, an idiot for following what you say yes. But my biggest mistake would be if I stay here” you stare into his dark orbs intensely, never breaking eye contact before. Noah felt something he never felt before, something weighing in his chest, that he could not explain. The fire in your eyes as you fire at him in just a few words. Could he say that he had romantic feelings for you? No, how you felt towards him why would he feel anything?

But something about you having no fear of him or anyone you’ve come in contact with, it was like something he hasn’t seen before. He watched as he dropped his jacket on the floor, discard it as if it were, and made your way up to your bedroom without as much as a glance or smart room or back. He stood at the stairwell for a couple seconds. His hands in his pockets, contemplating what was discussed that night, what’s to come. Big changes were being made, steps that would flip this entire world upside down. Yet the question that weighed in his mind

“Who the hell are you?”

̩͙‿‿༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿   ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ̩͙‿

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[restinslices]

Silly little request but how do you think LKB would dress like casually? Like once every blue moon they have a day off and ding need to wear their uniforms? Can you do this in bullet points?

Them not in their uniforms is such a normal concept but it seems so weird for them if you know what I mean. Like, wdym they don’t wear those outfits to sleep? Also this is probably shorter than other posts because it’s about outfits, yk?

Bi-Han

Black. Moving on-

On some real shit though, I feel like this man’s entire wardrobe is in greyscale 

Someone’s like “hey there’s this event coming up! Can you wear a blue shirt?”

You’d think he’d have blue but nope. Nothing but blacks and greys and maybe a white in there 

I saw a post of biker Bi-Han and I definitely see it now 

Idk if the pictures imma attach at the end are really biker tho so that’s why I’m saying mainly blacks 

Like Elsa, the cold doesn’t bother him anyway so jackets aren’t really a thing he has to wear. He kinda just does because it makes the outfit look better 

That’s all the brain power he puts into it though because this man doesn’t care about his wardrobe at all 

He cares enough to not look sloppy but he doesn’t care about piecing shit together or brands and designer. If you look closely you can see he’s wearing the same shirt he was wearing yesterday 

He wears black because he’s still thinking like an assassin. The whole “I shouldn’t be noticeable” thing 

Which is wild when you think about how he’s definitely noticeable in that blue outfit but idk

He also wears black because… he doesn’t know 

He checked his closet and realized that shit looked like a black void but refuses to actually wear more color 

I don’t see him accessorizing much either. He only carries stuff he can fit in his pockets 

Kuai Liang

Lazy 

Bi-Han adds a jacket for a bit of razzle dazzle but Kuai Liang doesn’t 

In all fairness, he gets hot easily (this is stereotypical but idc) so a jacket isn’t gonna work 

He wears the most basic t shirts and pants 

Like he legit got the same white shirt 50 times 

The shit is despicable 

I don’t think he adds many accessories either. He probably doesn’t carry much on him 

Long sleeves never really happen either 

Honestly I don’t think of any them dress with any special aesthetic in mind

But him? Extra lazy

I am being so serious when I say he buys the same clothes over and over again. He forgets he has a white t shirt in his closet so he buys another and the cycle repeats 

Probably doesn’t care as much because what are the chances he’ll be out of uniform?

You know how people say men's outfits are so boring? He’s the main example they use because there’s no personality with his shit 

I don’t see him doing much on his off days though so that’s probably why he just throws something on

He’s just getting dressed to go grocery shopping 

Tomas Vrbada 

The one with the most style 

Which isn’t saying a lot 

Wears multiple layers 

Why do I think this way? Idk. But if I said they all dress the same, it’d be boring so here we are

He probably has a normal type of body heat since he’s not a pyromancer or cryomancer so he’s wearing hoodies and jackets because he’s genuinely cold 

He accidentally has style 

Wearing a hoodie and jacket is stylish to people for whatever reason. He doesn’t get it but he’s like “yeah, I definitely have fashion sense. It’s definitely not because I’m cold all the time. That just doesn’t sound like me”

May accessorize a bit but not as much 

As a whole I think accessories can become heavy and get in the way and our boys gotta be ready to bust a move if something pops off. Just because they’re off duty doesn’t mean they’re not paying attention or in danger 

So that’s why our boys travel light 

He has those smoke bombs and shit so he might have a little pouch with him but I don’t think he’d carry a backpack. Goes back to being too heavy 

If something can’t fit in a pouch, it’s staying home 

Dresses in neutral colors. I don’t think any of them are necessarily into bright colors 

Doesn’t have the same exact clothes but wears them the same exact way. His outfits look like a skin variation 

He’s doing his best 

Remember all I do for you because imagining them in normal clothes fucked me up more than I’d like to admit

[cowgurrrl]

Sam

Author’s note: Inspired by @pomegranatevampire’s amazing drawing of Ellie and a puppy and written with permission from the original artist 🩷 dedicated to my childhood dogs who passed away a year ago next month whose love and dedication taught me more about life than anything else (PS please listen to Sam by Strugill Simpson I LOVE IT)

Summary: "he heard them as they walked past say 'too big, too old, too damaged'. so still he waited, patiently, for someone to accept the things he could not change. for someone to stop and say 'i choose you.'" - zeppelin moon aka Joel and Ellie adopt a dog [1.2k]

Warnings: talk of nightmares, PTSD, brief mention of addiction recovery, puppy fluff :-)

"No. Absolutely not." Joel says within a millisecond of seeing Ellie with the mutt at the back door. It's not a particularly big dog. He's small enough for Ellie to hold him but big enough that she has to use both arms and balance him on a hip to keep him steady. Even then, it wouldn't matter how big or small it is because he's perfectly content in the girl's arms. 

"I didn't even say anything!" She whines, and Joel shakes his head.

"Don't matter. The answer's still no."

"Look at his little face! You can't say no to that face!" Ellie says, grabbing the dog's nose and turning his face toward Joel in a show of big, sad eyes from both of them. The dog, which Joel now realizes is more a puppy than anything else, is surprisingly calm when Ellie grabs him. No growling or biting. He didn't even flinch. It's impressive that such a feral thing wouldn't react negatively to her.  

There isn't an abundance of dogs in Jackson. Most of them are used for work, joining on patrols, and whatnot, but every so often, some dogs fail out of the training. Sometimes, they're adopted by families in Jackson, and other times, they're left to their own devices to roam the town. Everyone does their part to take care of them by giving them food and belly rubs when they want them, but for the most part, they keep to themselves. This heap of brown, black, grey, and white fur, however, is practically melting at any form of attention he can get. Even Joel's hardened glare. 

"Please, Joel, let me stay," Ellie says in a goofy voice, moving the dog's head like he's the one who's talking, and Joel rolls his eyes. Goddammit. If he loved this girl less, he would be able to stand his ground and force the canine back out to the porch. But he can't, and he doesn't.

"One night. He can stay for one night, but then he's gotta go back out." He relents, and Ellie looks like she could explode with glee. She puts the dog down and opens the back door, letting the puppy rush over to Joel in a tidal wave of excited squeals and slobber. If he thought Ellie was excited, it was nothing compared to the animal half in his lap and licking his face. 

"Laika! Get off Joel, you psycho!" Ellie shouts before physically picking up the dog and putting him back on the floor. 

"You already named him?" Joel asks, and Ellie smiles sheepishly. "What kinda name is Laika anyway?"

"Laika was the first animal in space. She was a mutt they found on the streets of Russia and thought she'd be a good fit." 

"Why?"

"They thought because she was a stray, she could withstand space conditions. I don't know how true it was, though, 'cause they never brought her back." 

"So, you named him after a dead Russian dog stuck in space forever?"

"No, I named him after one of the greatest heroes to ever live. Get it together, old man." Ellie says matter-of-factly before snapping her fingers and running up the stairs with Laika on her heels. 

That night, Ellie feeds, walks, and makes a makeshift bed for Laika on her floor out of blankets and a pillow from the downstairs couch. Laika is quiet as he adjusts to going from living outside full time to being waited on hand and foot by Ellie, but he greets her with tail wags and affectionate licks when she gets close enough. When Joel peeks his head into her room after she's fallen asleep, he sees that Laika has forgone the homemade bed and has instead crawled into bed with Ellie. He's sitting at the edge of it, staring at the door, when Joel comes in, and he swore he heard the dog growling before he realized it was Joel. Not that he wants the dog to be violent or reactive, but it's good to know that he's protective over his little girl. Laika: Once an explorer of space (and Jackson), now a protector of Ellie. 

Of course, Laika ends up staying for longer than just one night. Joel and Ellie take him to the vet in town to make sure he's healthy and has everything he needs. After a few shots, Laika is given a perfect bill of health and sent on his way. They go to the store together and buy a food bowl, a bed, and a rope that Joel ties to make a tug-of-war toy for him. He may not have wanted the dog at first, but he still deserves some toys, right?

It isn't until winter that Joel realizes just how important Laika is to Ellie. Winter is hard for both of them. Memories of that first winter spent together haunt their days and nights and make it hard to breathe, let alone sleep. One night, Ellie wakes up crying so loud that Joel hears from down the hallway, and he quickly rushes to her aid. However, when he gets there, he sees Laika tucked under Ellie's chin, putting a comforting weight in her lap and distracting her from the panic seizing her by the shoulders. Joel tip toes in, not wanting to disturb the peace, and Ellie catches sight of him.

"You alright, kiddo?" He asks, and she nods.

"Laika helped." She says simply. He smiles and sits with them until she's soothed enough to go back to sleep. Even in sleep, Laika stays nearby, snuggling into her chest and sighing contentedly every once in a while. That image of them cuddling in bed seals the deal for Joel. He'll give Laika the best life possible if it means he makes Ellie happy. 

Joel gradually warms up to the dog as he grows into his too-big paws and personality. He feeds him scraps of food from the dinner table and finds quality sticks from the yard to throw him during their sunset backyard time together as a family. On late-night patrols, Laika is the first one to greet him with excited sniffs and licks. Laika is also shockingly good at reading Joel's emotions too. When the weight of grief gets too much, or he feels himself teetering between sobriety and relapse, Laika will nudge his leg with his nose and distract him from distressing thoughts. Joel learns to enjoy Laika's company and vice versa. 

If Joel is downstairs playing guitar or woodworking while Ellie's asleep, Laika will walk down there and sit at his feet just so he has some company. Joel often rewards him with ear scratches and a kind word or two. "You're a good dog, ain't ya?" He'll ask, and Laika will perk up as if to say, "Who? Me?" "I know Ellie tells ya that all the time, but I thought you oughta know I think you're pretty cool, too." Laika's tail always thumps against the floor when Joel talks to him like that, and Joel always gets a weird sense of pride in his chest, knowing he made the dog happy. "Yeah. You're a good boy." Then, after a quick kiss to the head and a belly rub, he'll nudge Laika with his foot. "Now go on and get your girl." With that, Laika walks back up the stairs and takes his sentinel position at the foot of Ellie's bed. 

And only once he knows that both of his humans are happy and safe will Laika lay down his soft head and dream secret dreams of smiling faces and sticks thrown through a green field. 

[mcufan72]

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader (AU) / 18+

Chapter 9

Chapter 8

Warnings: contains angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, alcohol and cigarette consumption, soft!dom/sub vibes, some drama, morally grey stuff. Maybe a bit of a filler chapter but necessary for the plot! I hope you enjoy.

While driving in his green Jaguar through the crowded streets of Downtown Manhattan, Loki tried to stay calm. The sunny weather didn't fit his mood. He couldn't stop thinking about last night and what had happened. He could still feel your kisses on his lips, your touches on his body, and he also couldn't forget the way you looked at him and how you made him feel. With your beguiling charm and your incredible art of seduction, you even made him submit to you. To show his submissive side was something he had never done that easily before. But when he finally decided to open up to you further and to give you not only his body but his heart too, you ran away, left him alone, leaving this letter for him. A letter full of heartache and pain, desperation and fear.

After you had this breakdown and cried in his arms, he hoped you'd open up to him as well and that you'd possibly tell him what made you feel so sad and hurt. He was wrong, maybe it was too soon and you two were not close enough to each other yet for such deep conversations. But he wanted you, he wanted you in his arms, in his heart and his life. And for that, he'd do anything so the most important thing was now to find you, no matter what. How was he supposed to not search for you when you were maybe in danger? Why didn't you ask him to help you? He would've given the money to you without hesitation, without demanding anything from you for this favour.

One day you will have forgotten me…

This sentence of yours echoed in his head. He could never forget you. Against all odds, you had grown to his heart, and he loved and craved you even more now. The blackmailing thing made him feel sick and drove him crazy. Who was doing this to you, his precious girl? He was so afraid that you could've left New York already before he got the chance to talk to you. He had so many questions.

Short time later, Loki arrived at the building where REA had its office and he left the car park with fast, long steps. He couldn't get fast enough to Rhea, not even knowing if she was already in the office because it was quite early in the morning. Loki pressed the doorbell and shortly after, the door opened and he entered the welcoming office. Light jazz and soul music and the smell of freshly brewed coffee conjured an incomparable and comfortable atmosphere. Everything in here was classy-modern and elegant but it didn't calm his nerves down. Inwardly he was scared and deeply worried but he wouldn't show it to anyone, especially not to Rhea, your boss. He was sure, according to your letter, she didn't know anything about the trouble you were in and he would never expose you to anyone.

“Good morning, Sir. How can I be of help?” Rhea greeted him kindly and offered her hand for a handshake, visibly impressed by the raven-haired, attractive man in black jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket in front of her. Who could blame her? When he took his sunglasses off and looked at her with bright blue eyes she blushed but kept her professional attitude up.

“Good morning… Rhea, I guess?” Loki responded and took her offered hand in his.

“Yes, I'm Rhea. Mr.Larsson, right?” She asked him, her smile getting brighter when she recognised that he was much more handsome than in the photo she got from him some time ago.

“Yes, I'm Luke Larsson. I'm sorry for showing up that early in the morning and without an appointment but it's urgent and I need you to help me quickly and efficiently,” he explained.

“No worries, Sir. Please take a seat on the couch and let me know what I can do for you. Fancy a coffee?”

“No, thanks Rhea, I'm fine. I want to get straight to the point. It's about Miss Black.”

“I hope nothing happened between you two. If you're not happy anymore with her as your escort we will try to solve your problem,” Rhea took a seat next to Loki, facing him and raising her eyebrows. She was sure there hadn't been a problem between you two at all. She knew how much you liked him.

“No, I can assure you nothing happened. I appreciate Miss Black as my escort and I definitely don't want to book another of your surely lovely escort ladies. It's just that I need an appointment with her today. I know it's extremely spontaneous but… it's urgent, you know.” Loki still tried to stay calm and cool. He was sure Rhea would make it possible to fulfill his urgent request for your company.

“Let me have a look at Miss Black's schedule,” Rhea said, already knowing the answer. She stood up from the sofa and walked over to her desk, sat down on the chair and opened her laptop. Loki waited eagerly for her answer, nervously and subconsciously playing at his fingers. A habit he nearly had forgotten but he hadn't been that nervous for a very long time. You had brought out his soft side again. He had almost forgotten that he had a softer side. He had been alone for too long before he met you.

“I'm sorry, Mr.Larsson but Miss Black isn't available for the next two weeks,” Rhea told him. She just hoped Loki would take it easy and would be open for an appointment with one of her other escorts.

“What do you mean by that?” Loki's heart began to race. He must've gotten Rhea wrong.

“I mean what I said, Miss Black isn't available in the foreseeable future.”

“That's impossible. I need to see her!”

“Sir, I think you didn't get me right. It is impossible. Miss Black is unavailable.” Rhea stayed kindly but strictly.

“But I need to see her! If it's impossible, make it possible! I have an important event to attend and I need Miss Black to accompany me,” he answered with great emphasis. That he had to attend an event was a lie but of course, he couldn't tell Rhea the real reason why he needed to meet you promptly.

“Mr.Larsson, please… I can arrange an appointment with another excellent escort lady from my agency and I promise you you won't be disappointed. I'm certain we'll find the perfect lady for you,” Rhea assured him.

“I'm sure about that, Rhea but that's not the point. I just want to date Miss Black! Only her! Why isn't she available for the next two weeks? Did she get ill? Is she fully booked? Is she going to meet other… gentlemen and why didn't she tell me?” He knew he began to sound desperate. “Please, Rhea, tell me!” He was actually desperate, a fact that made him feel uneasy. He had never been this desperate because of a woman.

“Mr.Larsson, you must know that I won't tell you anything about the bookings, the whereabouts, or any other private things of my escort ladies. Please just accept that she's not bookable for the next two weeks.,” Rhea told him strictly.

“And I tell you to accept that I need to see her. Only her. Today. No matter what! I… because I… I have a soft spot for her, I really like her,” Loki stated and his last words were not much more than a whisper. He should better hold back all those feelings.

“Obviously,” Rhea muttered under her breath and suppressed a grin.

“I beg your pardon?” He asked, frowning and trying to keep up the facade.

“Obviously, and I get that, Mr.Larsson. Miss Black is a wonderful and lovely woman,” Rhea confirmed.

“She is, indeed.” Loki took a deep breath before he continued. “So there's no chance to meet her?”

“No, Mr.Larsson. I'm genuinely sorry.”

“Could you please do me a favour then,” Loki said hesitantly, still hoping for Rhea's help even if it wasn't the kind of help he was looking for.

“Mr.Larsson, I'm asking you, please don't push it too far!”

“I'm not asking for any information. I'll pay Miss Black for the next two weeks,” Loki said, leaving no doubt that he was being serious.

“Mr.Larsson I'm not sure if you…” Loki jumped off the sofa and walked over to Rhea's desk.

“Listen, I don't want further information. I got it that she's not available… at least not for me. Regardless of whether she has appointments with other men or not, I pay for the next two weeks including the nights,” Loki interrupted her harshly.

“Mr.Larsson, please… it'll cost you a fortune and I'm not sure if Miss Black wants you to do this!” Rhea tried to intervene.

“I don't care about how much it costs me. I just care about her. Money doesn't matter, she matters. I ask you to cancel all of her appointments and to add my money to her bank account,” Loki stated demandingly. He couldn't know that you hadn't any appointment at all. He was used to always getting it his way so he was sure Rhea wouldn't discuss his plan with him further.

“Mr.Larsson, Miss Black isn't available and she's also not exclusively yours.” Rhea slowly got angry. At least it was none of her business but she wasn't sure if Loki was stalking you. She just wanted to guarantee your safety.

“Of course, she is! I pay for the time she would spend with me if she were bookable. I want her to meet me and me only. I won't discuss it with you any further!” Loki commanded. Just the tone of his voice was enough to command respect. His possessiveness and obsession with you got the better of him. Why didn't Rhea understand him? He just wanted to protect you and avoid you being forced to meet other men for money. How many men would you have to meet to earn that amount of money you needed for that damn blackmail? He could easily give the money to you but for some reason, you hadn't asked him for help and refused to take his money without working for it. He wanted to give it to you unconditionally and so he had no other choice than to do it this way. You would never have to meet other men again or worse, sleep with them. Men who didn't know how to treat you right, with decency and all the respect you deserved. The sheer thought of them touching you or worse, touching you intimately, drove him crazy and made him fume with anger. And besides this, you were his and his only. But he better stay calm. He wanted Rhea to cooperate with him and so he returned to a nicer tone.

“Rhea, please do me that favour. If you can't do it for me then do it for her. Please! She doesn't have to do anything about it. I won't ask for anything in return. I just want her to be safe.” Desperation overcame him again and he wished he could still hold you in his arms like he did last night. Damn, why didn't you stay and ask him for help? Why did you run away from him?

“That's pretty selfless, Mr.Larsson.”

“Call it what you want, I just care about her wellbeing. She doesn't belong… here,” and he let his gaze wander around the office and emphasized it with a sweeping motion of his arms. “She deserves a life of safety and happiness.”

“Exactly what everyone else here thinks,” Rhea muttered under her breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Mr.Larsson. I'll do what you're wishing for. But I doubt Miss Black will be fond of it.” Rhea knew it was often fishy when it came to men wanting to pay lots of money for escorts or call girls and pretend not to want anything in return. She didn't think Loki was one of them but you never knew. She also sensed that he wouldn't give up that easily and that he was very serious when it came to you. There surely was more between you two than just the ‘escort-meets-client’ thing. She could see it in his gaze.

“Fond of what? Getting the money she needs without doing anything for it? I just don't want any other guy to lust for her or touch her. She deserves better. She deserves to be treated like a queen. I might not be the right man for her but if there's something I can do for her it's that. I just want to make it easier for her.”

“It seems, our lovely Miss Black has found her Prince on the white horse, the Knight in shining armour. It's a very noble gesture, Mr.Larsson, chivalrous even.”

“I'm anything but chivalrous, Rhea, believe me. I just want her to be okay,” Loki responded humbly. “So, could you please arrange an appointment with Miss Black in two weeks, as soon as she's bookable again?” Loki was well aware that he wouldn't get any further here with Rhea.

“Of course, Mr.Larsson. No issue.” Rhea told him the next free option to meet you. At least he now had the confirmation that you were still here, somewhere in New York.

“I'm sorry that I couldn't be of more help but…I'm just doing my job, Mr.Larsson.”

“It's okay, Rhea. I know and you're doing your job very well and conscientiously. I appreciate how you protect your escort ladies. Nonetheless, thank you for your time. Have a nice day, Rhea.” Loki could barely hide his disappointment. He had hoped for a different ending to this conversation. How could he have been that naive?

“Goodbye, Mr.Larsson and thank you for your understanding and cooperation. Let me know whenever I can do something for you or when you need an escort lady in the next two weeks,” Rhea said kindly. Loki nodded once, put his sunglasses on and left the office.

Back in his car, he angrily hit the steering wheel with his flat hands. “Damn it!” And tears welled up in his eyes. “Girl, where are you?” His question echoed against the windshield and stayed unanswered. Were you in actual danger? Were you scared? Were you crying? Did you miss him or had you already forgotten him? Did you care about him and how he felt after you vanished? Did you care at all? And by the way, he still wanted his scarf back. The thought made him huff and smile. And when you give it back to him he should tie you up with said scarf to his bed and fuck you properly and relentlessly until you'd promise him to never run away again. But before that, he would kiss the heck out of you and tell you how much you had scared him, how much he had missed you and how much he loves and adores you. He needed to search for you, immediately but he didn't even know where to begin. He would drive home and make a plan as to which places he should go to look for you. If you were still in New York he would find you.

**************************

You could barely keep your eyes open. The hour-long writing and staring at the screen of your laptop had exhausted you. Your back was achingly tensed up from sitting for hours at the table, writing your thesis. You tried to stay focused and to avoid too long breaks from studying. You were already behind schedule. The deadline would end soon and an extension of it would be impossible. Well, the day of payback and doom came closer and closer too but you pushed the thoughts of it away. You knew you couldn't do this forever, you had to face reality soon but for now, you didn't want to think about it. You'll find a solution to your problem. Soon, very soon but not now, not today.

You sighed heavily, ran your fingers through your tousled hair and buried your face in your hands. As soon as you closed your eyes, you saw him, Luke, or whatever his name was. Since you left him and his penthouse nearly a week ago you couldn't stop thinking about him. You permanently thought about his kindness, his warmth, his beauty, his tenderly demanding kisses, his skin on yours and how good he felt when he was inside of you. You missed him terribly. You didn't want to yet you did. Would he have slept with you if you hadn't asked him to do it? Possibly not. Luke was everything you ever wanted and you wished you would've met him under different circumstances.

Why couldn't you randomly have bumped into him on the streets of Manhattan? A meet-cute ending up in a café, followed by properly dating each other, would've been nice. Luke was attentive, mindful, kind, caring, affectionate, tender and incredibly erotic. The sex with him was so good and satisfying. He not only cared about his satisfaction, he cared about yours as well. Him, finger-fucking you in the limousine was the most erotic experience you've ever had so far, and not to talk about him allowing you to dominate him, later in his bedroom…and everything else afterwards. He truly saw you, he truly cared about you. He noticed and remembered everything you did, said or liked. The flowers he gave to you, the evening gown, the foot massage.

And he did all of this without even knowing you well. Luke had done everything Ralph had never done in five years. But Luke's affection, the blackmailing and your fucked up life scared you and it made you run away from him. He deserved better and not someone disgusting like you. The worst thing was you would never see Luke Larsson again. You had broken your rules, you had kissed him, a client and that was probably the most scary thing. Because breaking your rules has broken your heart… and his most likely, too. Something you didn't intend to happen, you never wanted to hurt him.

You were still denying it but you were into him. No, you were on the way to fall deeply in love with him. But you mustn't, you must forget him. He was your client and you had already gone too far with him. You were sure he would never forgive you and you hoped he had already forgotten you. You weren't any special or mattered, not at all, and certainly not to him. As much as it hurt, it was better this way.

You sighed again and tried to wipe away all those memories and visions of him. Running your fingers through your hair again, you stood up from your chair and stretched your stiff limbs. And Luke was still in your mind…and his scarf in the drawer of your dresser. You still had it. You shouldn't. You should've given it back to him already. You also shouldn't have lied to him. You didn't know how but he knew you were lying when you told him you hadn't found it on the floor of the hotel suite.

You just wanted to keep it, this little piece of silken fabric, a piece that belonged to him, a piece that gave you comfort and spread the scent of safety. His scent which you loved so much. You went straight to your dresser and took the scarf out of the drawer. You buried your nose into the silken fabric and inhaled deeply. It still smelled of him. You should better stop daydreaming and continue writing your thesis. You also should take a shower later, a cold one perhaps. You put the scarf back into the drawer, closed it and headed for the kitchen to prepare another mug of coffee. You turned some light jazz music on and continued working.

It was already 3 am when you went to bed after taking a hot shower. Cold water didn't help at all to wash him out of your system. You took Luke's scarf out of the drawer again, laid down on the bed and pulled your duvet up under your chin. You took a whiff and even though you were tired you felt arousal rise in you. You missed him and you missed his touch. Your fingers found your clit and you pleasured yourself gently but straight to a mind-numbing orgasm to get some stress relief, thinking of him.

On the other side of the Hudson, Loki laid on his bed and jerked himself fast and hard to a badly needed orgasm. He needed some relief from the pain he felt inside of him since you were gone and untraceable. His search for you in the last few days had been unsuccessful so far but you were always on his mind and tomorrow he'd continue to look for you. There were still some places he could search for you. You both didn't know that you pleasured yourselves at the same time, that you thought of each other and cried each other's names at the same time when your climaxes washed over you in the middle of the night. You were so close to each other yet so far away.

When you came down from your high you covered your eyes to keep the daylight out of your system as long as possible because the sun would rise soon. But instead of using your sleeping mask, you used Luke's scarf, covered your eyes with it and tied the two ends comfortably at the back of your head. You dropped your head in the cuddly pillow and a sigh escaped your mouth, tears brimming in your eyes.

“I miss you, Luke… and I love you,” you whispered tiredly. In the warmth of your duvet, engulfed by the quietly playing jazz music from your sound system and by the scent of his cologne, sleep finally took you.

Loki was about to fall asleep when he thought he had heard your tired voice, telling him that you missed and loved him. He knew he was just imagining it hence he hoped that you would at least come to him in his dreams.

The next morning, you were already sitting in front of your laptop again, your phone blinked and vibrated next to you on the table. You were knee-deep in writing your thesis and you weren't in the mood to answer any calls, not to talk about that you didn't have any time for it. You saw Rhea's name popping up on the display and you decided to answer the call.

“Hey, Rhea. What's up?”

“Hey, y/n. Sorry for disturbing you but… we have an issue,” Rhea explained.

“An issue? What happened?” You were curious about what she had to tell you and at the same time, you felt some anxiety arising in your gut. Did she want to sack you? That would be a catastrophe. Did Luke tell her what had happened between you two, that he was mad at you especially because of the letter you had written for him? Was it about him at all?

“It's about Mr.Larsson, dear.” Rhea sounded serious. The tight feeling in your stomach got worse.

“Mr.Larsson?”

“Yes, dear. I already waited for too long to tell you about it. Please come to the office if you can. It's urgent but I don't want to tell you about it on the phone,” she said, her tone slightly concerned.

“Okay, give me thirty minutes,” you answered, uncertain about how this meeting would end for you.

“Fine, I'll be here, waiting for you,” and you both ended the call.

“He did what? I don't understand. Who does he think he is? How DARE he? Guess I should be flattered,” you stated angrily thirty minutes later when you sat at Rhea's desk. But if you were being honest you also appreciated his concerns.

“Yeah, he doesn't want you to meet other men anymore. I suppose he cares about you, a lot.” Rhea had told you everything about her conversation with Loki and also apologized that she had waited for so long to tell you about it and that she hadn't sent you the money yet. She had been uncertain what to do with all the money Loki had already sent to her bank account to send it further to yours. She didn't want to do anything wrong and wanted to talk with you about it so she left the money untouched.

“Dear, we both know you don't belong here. You should take his offer. I'm sure he just wants to help,” Rhea tried to convince you.

“No! I won't take his money. It feels like he would buy me,” and you jumped off of the chair in front of Rhea's desk. “I know that I'm kind of a whore but… it's my decision, you know. I decide to meet a man or not. I decide which guy's money I take and how much. Does he really think if he offers the biggest amount of money he can own me and tell me what to do?” You were furious and walked up and down in the office. “I won't accept that!”

“I don't think he wants to buy or own you. I'm sure if you would tell him why and for what you need so much money he would give it to you without hesitation. That guy has feelings for you, you've grown on him and it seems…”

“Nonsense! And he knows, Rhea. I told him. No details, but he knows,” you interrupted her.

“Even better!” Rhea cheered. “And he still wants to help you! I know something is going on between you two and that something has happened. I don't want to know any details but this man is desperate and you should talk to him. He urgently wanted to meet you for a reason and I'm pretty sure you know what reason it is. Sorry, y/n but I really don't get why you are refusing his help.”

“Because I'm sure… no… I know one fine day he wants something in return. Everything in life has its price, Rhea. Life gives you nothing!” A single angry tear escaped your eye.

“I'm not sure about that, dear. Luke Larsson might be your way out of this business, out of your misery. We both know you don't belong here, desperation brought you here, to my agency, to my office. I'd be very sorry to lose you as my escort lady and I'd love to stay your friend but you should take this chance,” Rhea tried to convince you.

“No! I don't need a savior and I don't need love or care. I need money, lots of money… you have no idea,” you answered strictly.

“Then take his money, for heaven's sake! If you need the feeling of having worked for it try to imagine you'd meet him every day including the nights without actually meeting him. It's not that difficult. Your pride and stubbornness won't help you out of your bad situation, y/n.”

“Enough! End of discussion, Rhea. I can't and I won't take his money without working for it. I just can't do it. I never want to be owned by a man again, certainly not. I don't want to depend on a man’s mercy ever again. And the day will come when he demands a kind of payback, a kind of reparation. I refuse his offer, and you Rhea give him his money back. I don't want it. And also I want you to cancel my appointment with him, I don't want to meet him ever again. I leave now, I've a lot of work to do,” your tone dripping with anger and desperation. “Bye Rhea, see you next week when I'll have finished my exams,” you murmured sadly.

“Of course, dear. I'll send him his money back if this is what you want. I hope everything turns out well for you. Bye, dearest,” Rhea said and you hurriedly left the office without a further word. Rhea felt bad for you. She understood your motifs but she wished you would've accepted Luke's try to help you because it seemed this man genuinely cared about you. Of course, she accepted your wish and sent the money back with the note ‘acceptance denied’.

You wanted to laugh and to cry all at once. Why couldn't he just forget you like you had asked him for in your letter? And on the other hand, you felt wanted and cared for if it was true what Rhea had told you. Was he really desperate to find and meet you? Not that it would change anything. You had cut the wire and there was no comeback now.

You were still too upset to continue working on your thesis and so you walked aimlessly on the crowded sidewalks of the Manhattan streets. About an hour later you stood in front of the New York Public Library and immediately you thought about the conversation you had with Gabby about the Avengers and the Invasion of New York. Shortly after your last night with Luke, you couldn't resist finding out more about the incident and him.

To your astonishment, there was nothing much to find on the Internet and it seemed photos and articles from twelve years ago had been removed from the websites. Normally you wouldn't care about it but somehow you wanted to know who Luke was and what he had to do with the Avengers, the Invasion, and the avoided total destruction of New York City. You should be able to get access to old newspapers from that time and you also may find photos of him. And maybe you would find out his real name. It wouldn't change the fact that you'd never see him again but you wanted to know whom you had kissed and slept with, to whom you had given your heart.

You sat at a desk in the library, scrolling through several articles in the newspapers from twelve years ago. It took some time until you found the articles about the incident. There were short ones, side-long ones but no photo so far with all the Avengers in it. Mostly there were photos of a certain Tony Stark because his building was somehow involved in this so you scrolled further on the screen. And then, you had found it, a photo that involved all of them. In the photo, you also saw the three men you had dated: Steve Rogers, the fantastic dancer. Scott Lang, the guy who made you laugh the whole evening. Bruce Banner, with whom you had one of the best conversations and who invited you to a delicious dessert.

You scrolled further through the article and then you found it. The photo you were looking for. A photo of a handsome raven-haired man, incredibly attractive and with piercing blue eyes. The man you had dated, had sex with, and finally had kissed. You found his name written under the picture. Your friend was right. His name wasn't Luke Larsson. His name was Loki Laufeyson.

*************************

Loki was weary and worn. Day after day he has searched for you without any success, without any hint of where you could be. He had searched for you everywhere, he visited every place he had been with you, he looked for you in every cafe, bar, bistro, restaurant, gallery, museum, and park, he went several times to Vivian's Velvet, he even visited every bookstore or grocery store. Nothing. It seemed you had vanished from the face of the earth. Maybe it would've been easier if he would know your real name but without that, it was nearly impossible to find you.

Also, you refused to accept his money. He was disappointed and it kind of hurt him when he saw the money had been credited to his bank account again with the note ‘acceptance denied’. You neither wanted his money nor wanted to be found. But he wouldn't give up on you. Not yet and most likely never. Nonetheless today he would go to Vivian's Velvet for one last time. His very last try to find you.

Cast down, he took a seat at the bar and ordered a whisky. Today he just wanted to get drunk and he drank his whisky in one big gulp. “Another, please,” he asked the barkeeper, who placed a further whisky in front of Loki. This one he also gulped down in one swift sip. “Another!” He growled darkly and the barkeeper refilled Loki's tumbler. Why didn't the alcohol help to wash this dull ache and the sadness away? It had always worked in the past when he took a bath and had a glass of wine and never thought about his lost love interests again. Why didn't it work this time? He emptied his whisky quickly and ordered another one.

“Hello, handsome. Shouldn't you slow down a bit?” An attractive, tall, red-haired woman addressed Loki and took a seat on the bar stool next to him, temptingly crossing her long, black nylon-dressed legs. Her short black leather dress showed more of her bodily features than it covered.

“Mind your own business, my Lady. My drinks are none of your concerns,” Loki stated, annoyed without looking at her and took a sip of his next whisky. He didn't want to be rude but he wasn't in the mood for a conversation or flirting.

“Does it hurt that much? What is it you're trying to numb so desperately? Want me to distract you, pretty one? Want to play with me?” she offered him, her voice soft like velvet and her fingers trailed gently over his forearm up to his bicep. Loki immediately grabbed her hand and stopped her from touching him.

“Don't! I appreciate your tempting offer and you're a really pretty woman but I'm not interested, thank you,” Loki informed her, looking sternly at her. She withdrew her hand from his grip and smiled at him.

“I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to be pushy. I just thought I could help you to forget some of your… grief.”

“That's very kind of you but nothing and nobody can help me to forget, I guess.” Loki swirled the whisky in his glass, staring absent-mindedly at the golden-brown liquid.

“That bad?” She asked cautiously.

“Yeah, it's that bad,” Loki swallowed the entire contents of his tumbler. With the emptied glass he gestured to the barkeeper to refill it and turned his head towards the woman next to him.

“Can I get you something? What would you like to drink? Champagne, a cocktail or something else?”

“Champagne would be nice,” she answered sweetly. “Is she nice?” She wanted to know.

“Who? What do you mean?” Loki asked, irritated and playing with the whisky tumbler in his hands.

“The woman you try to forget,” she responded smilingly.

“How do you know I'm trying to forget a woman,” Loki responded, looking quizzically at her.

“Because men try to drown their pain and lovesickness in lots of alcohol and mostly they're having casual sex with a Callgirl too. That's why many of them are coming here to Vivian's,” she explained knowingly.

“I'm not one of them. I came here a few times to look for her and we had our first date here. She's gorgeous. Over time we became closer to each other and then she vanished. And now I'm looking for her but without success,” Loki told her and emptied his whisky glass.

“So she's one of us?” She wanted to know.

“Kind of. She is… was my escort lady.”

“An escort? Maybe I know her… what's her name?” She asked him.

“Yeah! Yeah, maybe you do!” Hope arose in Loki again. “Her name is Sugar,” and Loki was sure she'd know promptly who he meant. But her answer crushed his hope.

“Sugar, you say?” She contemplated for a moment before she answered him. “No, I'm sorry, I've never met an escort here named Sugar.”

Loki nodded sadly and gave her a description of your appearance when he suddenly remembered a little something.

“Do you possibly know an escort lady named Candy?” He asked her excitedly. It was the last glimmer of hope.

“Candy? Yes, of course, I remember her. She's lovely but I haven't seen her for weeks now. Maybe she quit, I don't know. We were never close, you know.” Loki's hope died instantly and he took a deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief. He slowly believed the universe didn't want him to see you ever again.

“What a lucky girl she is. I wish such a great guy like you would love me like that and look for me like you are looking for her. But I'm sorry, handsome, I think I can't help you. You need to continue searching for her, I guess.” She genuinely pitied him. He was truly sad and desperate and obviously in love.

“And yet she ran away,” Loki murmured. “No worries, it's alright. I won't stop searching for her but I don't want to keep my hopes up too high, you know. But I appreciate you're trying to help me,” Loki continued but could barely hide his disappointment.

“No issue. I'm sure you'll find her. Love always finds a way. Heads up, handsome,” she said, trying to rebuild his confidence.

“I just hope you're right,” was the only thing Loki could answer.

“Thank you for the champagne, I'll leave now. And hey, don't give up on her. I'm sure she is waiting for you. You're a very decent man… coming here frustrated and love-sick and refusing a good fuck… if this isn't fidelity and love then I don't know what is. Good luck, pretty boy” she said kindly, smiled at him, hopped off the bar stool, and went away. She was looking for a man to spend a night in bed with and maybe she would fall in love with one of her clients too but she knew Loki wouldn't be the one. This place in his mind, in his heart, and in his bed was already taken.

It was in the early morning hours when Loki decided to finally go home when he saw a black limousine in the car park right in front of Vivian's Velvet. He was instantly sober. Walker casually leaned against the vehicle, a coffee from a takeaway in his hand. He had had a long night after his two-week vacation but now his shift was over and he would drive home soon. Loki and Walker never crossed their paths in the last few days or nights but it seemed it was meant to be that Loki was meeting him now. Not Vivian's was his last hope, Walker was and Loki was well aware that only Walker could help him to find you. It wouldn't be easy to break his secrecy. But he wanted to give it a try. If this wouldn't work, nothing would.

“Good morning, Walker. Hope you're fine. Do you remember me?” Loki greeted him.

“Good morning, Mr.Larsson. Of course, I remember you, Sir. I hope you're doing well, too,” Walker replied, unsure what Loki might want from him.

“Haven't seen you for a while,” Loki continued. Walker took a sip of his coffee and stared emotionlessly at Loki over the rim of his mug. Walker was cautious with every suitor of the escort ladies he was responsible for.

“I don't want to beat around the bush. I need your help, Walker and it's urgent,” Loki told him, with sadness in his voice. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his chinos and waited for Walker's reaction.

“What kind of help, Sir?” Walker grumbled, raising his eyebrows. He didn't trust a suitor, least of all the pretty ones.

“Sugar. I need to find her and it's urgent. I have looked everywhere for her, days and nights for the nearly last two weeks and I can't find her. Please, Walker, I need you to help me,” Loki asked him desperately.

“What makes you think I could help you, Mr.Larsson?” Walker questioned him dismissively.

“You know where she lives, you always drive her home after her dates. Walker, please bring me to her, I really need to talk to her. I need to see her,” Loki responded firmly, gesticulating with his hands to emphasize his request. Walker's answer was a deep, wholehearted laughter.

“And why should I do that, Sir? Do you really think I'd drive suitors to the escorts’ homes? I'm sorry, Mr.Larsson but this is really ridiculous.”

Loki rolled his eyes annoyed and bit lightly into his lower lip, placing his hands on his hips.

“I genuinely appreciate your discretion Walker and I'm glad that you take your job that seriously but you quite don't understand the urgency of this matter…I. Need. To. See. Sugar. Please!”

“No! I won't bring you to her home. I'll protect the ladies and nothing will change that. Not even a filthy rich guy like you!” Walker grumbled darkly. He would protect the escorts at all costs, especially you because he had a soft spot for you.

Loki walked towards him until their noses were almost touching. They gave each other a death stare and if looks could kill both would die instantly.

“Bring me to her,” Loki demanded insistently.

“No!”

“You'll bring me to her, Walker! Don't make me force you!” Loki's anger was growing fast but it was the anger of a man who was desperate to find his beloved girl.

“No!” Walker didn't give in. He couldn't know that he would lose any kind of fight against Loki but he would defend your privacy until his very end.

“Damn Walker, she's in danger, she needs help, urgently! So get up your ass and bring me to her!” Loki was upset but of course, he didn't want to hurt Walker physically, it wouldn't help anyone. But something in Walker cracked. He frowned and Loki took one step backwards.

“In danger? Why should I believe you?” Walker asked curiously. He was genuinely concerned now.

“Because it's the truth and you need to trust me.”

“I never trust a suitor. Sugar always spoke highly of you but it's my golden rule to never trust the men who book an escort lady.” Walker explained vehemently.

“She spoke to you about me?” Loki wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad sign.

“She just answered my concerned questions, nothing more but she was always fond of you. So, tell me, why should I believe or trust you? Maybe you're just telling fuckin’ lies to get to her.”

“In the last night we spent together we came very close to each other, not only physically but emotionally too. She stayed for a reason the whole night, you should remember that night and you got well paid for it that you waited until the next morning for her.” Walker remembered that night very well because it was something that didn't happen very often.

“She left without a word when I was still sleeping and the only thing she left for me was a letter, in which she told me mostly everything about her,” Loki continued.”She's in danger, Walker. Someone is blackmailing her. She needs my help. Please, Walker, we're on the same side, we both love her, each his own way, and we both want to protect her. Walker, I'm begging you, bring me to her!” Why the hell was this man so stubborn?

“Do you have any witness of what you're telling me?” Walker was still wary towards Loki but his concerns for you grew. What if he told the truth?

Loki pulled your letter out of the inner pocket of his jacket, unfolded it and showed it to Walker. He didn't give it to him because its contents were too private and just meant for him and it was the only thing he had from you besides the thong he had stolen from you when he pleasured you on the backseat of the limousine which stood right in front of him now. He carried your letter always with him like a treasure. He just wanted Walker to see it and prove to him that he wasn't lying.

“She wrote it in this letter. I told you the truth. Please help me, Walker.” Loki begged him quietly, tears brimming in his eyes. Walker frowned and rounded the limousine.

“Get into the car, Mr.Larsson. I'll take you to her!” That was what Loki wanted to hear.

“Thank you, Walker. I owe you.” A big smile appeared on Loki's face. He put your letter back into his pocket again and he quickly jumped into the car.

The sun was shining brightly this morning. Not only in the sky but also in Loki's heart. He put his sunglasses on and not much later, Walker parked the limousine in front of the building you were living in.

🌹🥂🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹❤️‍🩹🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂🌃

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