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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year

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Building a Hornet’s Nest

Male Wasp Hybrid Harem x Feminized Male Reader (CW: Noncon, musk, pheromones, bukkake, gangbang, double penetration, wasp men, oviposition, feminized male reader, drug-like cum, wasp transformation, DNA manipulation, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 3.7k (Sorry that this took so long. Sorry that this is so weird. I hope some people can find the degeneracy within themselves to enjoy it.)

When your distant uncle had passed away and left you a property you were surprised to say the least. You were more surprised to learn that it was on Arcadia and that your uncle had never lived long enough to go and see it as he had been ill for some time before his passing and he was not particularly old either. Years ago, unknown to most of the family, he had procured a modest plot of land on Arcadia, a distant planet on the fringes of known space. A true modern day frontier. It was known for its mega-flora. With flowers that grew to the size of trees in some cases. It was also known for its giant docile bees. They were just like bees on Earth except much much larger and they were stingless, it was very easy to domesticate them and now people used them on Arcadia to develop many rare and exotic honey types from the strange alien flowers. Your uncle had wanted to be a beekeeper, he was apparently going to invite you on the venture with him seeing as how you were both into farming and working the land and you had helped him with his beekeeping when you were younger, but he never recovered from his illness so you did not find out until his death. With only a bit of hesitance you decided to pursue your uncle’s dream. When you first got to Arcadia you were in awe by how tranquil and picturesque it was, the pictures and videos that you had seen certainly did it no justice. Unlike Earth most of the foliage was various shades of red, orange, and yellow. Giant blooms of every shape and color imaginable were everywhere, with the exception of the clearing that a small settlement had been built in. Despite being here for a few decades it was still very much a quaint little frontier town, pleasant enough people, offering just the bare essential services. Then there was your new plot of land a few miles from town. It was… run down… to say the least. But you made due, you had sold everything of significant value that you had owned back on Earth and were fully committing to this new venture. And, after a few months, your efforts finally paid off. A giant mansion sized barn for your future bees was built and your house was repaired. All that was left to do was wait for your shipment of buzzy friends to arrive. Well they wouldn’t be so busy when they arrived, as they would still be pupa, but within a week or two the pupa would be finished developing into full sized giant docile bees, they would accept the barn as their home and set up shop. The day came when your shipment finally landed and you were so thrilled, they came off the hover truck and you hurried them into their new home, carefully placing them horizontally into cells in the walls and capping them. In truth you had been more than a bit worried, you were running perilously low on funds and had to go with a discount bee supplier that seemed just a slight bit unreliable. But it seemed you had worried for nothing, here were your bee pupa, nice and healthy. Though they did seem to be a slightly different shape than they looked from the advertisements and videos, you were sure that nothing was wrong. You could barely contain your excitement, you had heard that these bees easily imprint on their humans and are very loving, soon they would establish a hive and your goals would be obtained. It would be slow at first, as you only had enough to get three pupa, but you would get there eventually. You couldn’t stop yourself from checking the barn every few hours. 9 or 10 times each and every single day. The wait was torture. But finally, after about 12 days, you heard buzzing coming from the barn when you stepped out of your house in the morning, you practically tripped over yourself running back inside to grab the collars for them and then dashed back outside and across the field of flowers you had started to grow for them. You opened the door to the barn and… it was NOT what you were expecting. The three pupa were no longer in the cells you had packed them so lovingly into, but they sure as hell were not bees either. Instead, standing before you were three wasp-men. You knew what these were, genetically engineered human-wasp hybrids, that typically had smaller genetic contributions from several ant and bee species as well, that were typically used in highly regulated projects or otherwise extremely shady sources of labor on the very unregulated frontier planets. The question was how did you get them? Did someone’s order get mixed with yours? With how much energy and enthusiasm you opened the door with, they were all now intently staring at you, and to say that they were intimidating would have been an understatement. They all looked fairly similar to one another, red and yellow plates of chitinous exoskeletons covered their feet, arms, legs, chests, and backs. The only thing lacking the exoskeletons were their faces, abs, asses, and crotches. Which were very much exposed, showing off scarily long cocks and heavy balls. They had red bug-like eyes, they had fangs but otherwise regular mouths, but they sat between a set of wicked looking mandibles. Antenna twitched on their heads, sticking out from long blood red hair. Each had a set of large wings folded behind them. Their antennas twitched in your direction as they also sniffed the air curiously. Uh-oh. They were from a shady source so who knows how unpredictably they could act towards you, so you wisely decided to make a hasty retreat, but they quickly flew over to you and pulled you back deeper into the building. “Where’s the rush?” one of them inquired in a slightly buzzing but deep voice, “Me and my friends just woke up here and need some answers.” “Uh-uh okay, sure, what do you want to know?” The one speaking put his arm roughly around your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Well, we are looking for the person meant to be our queen, do you know where they are? Your scent is the only one here. Did you put us in the wall compartments?” “There isn’t any queen, but y-yeah I was the one who bought your pupa and put them in there.” He took a moment to feel you over with his antenna, it probably would have tickled had you not been scared shitless. “Sooo… you’re the queen? Or are you under someone??” “There isn't one! And I own this land and made this building for bees…” One of the other two wasp men chimed in at this. “Ha! Bees? Those weak passive ones that have no human in em and are about as smart as a pet dog? You’re lucky you got us instead, we are far superior!” The one holding you now much too tightly replied while flexing his free arm,”He’s right, we are much better. You really lucked out little queen~ We can keep you much safer.” He licked up your neck with a long narrow tongue making you shiver. “I told you, there isn’t a queen!” You were beginning to grow annoyed with the cyclic nature of this conversation. “You bought us? You own this territory? You put us in cells so we could grow?” “W-well yeah but… I’m n-not-” “You’re our queen then~ Don’t be scared we’ll keep you all safe from the big scary world! You’re far too weak and squishy to just be left alone.” “Ha! Yeah, just a pathetic squishy little human,” the third one that had been silent up until now chuckled as he poked you hard in the stomach. The one holding you grinded gently into your ass, his cock fully erect and prodding your cheeks. “This ass is soft too~ Bet it feels great inside, doesn’t it little queen?” “S-stop, please, I’m not a w-woman!” “Awe, our queen is a bit dumb too~ Good thing we came along to take care of you. It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re our queen yet, we’ll rape you full of our eggs. You’ll look so lovely full of our spawn~” As he said all of this he began to gently rub his hand against your crotch and the other two hybrid men stepped closer. Between the unwanted touching and the mention of the word rape you decided it may be worth the risk to try and escape anyway, but your struggles didn’t last long. The man holding you shook you a bit violently until you were unsteady and still and then held the top of his wrist to your neck. A long thick black needle protruded from his wrist and was pointed at you threateningly. You turned away, trying to put as much space between your neck and the sinister looking needle as possible. “Maybe you aren’t too dumb, you know what this does don’t you my queen? It’ll hurt terribly before paralyzing you and allowing us to play with you at our leisure and make you fulfill your royal duty~” You let out a pathetic whimper in response. “Oh, don’t worry, I don’t want to use it. How can you squirm around my dick if I did? So just relax and let this happen the easier, more fun way, okay?” He nibbled on your earlobe and you went completely limp in his grasp, signaling that you wouldn’t put up anymore of a fight. “Heh heh, excellent choice, my queen~” The other two wasps chuckled cruelly as well as one pulled your shirt off and the other wasted no time in unburdening you of your pants and boxers. They stared at you hungrily. Your nudity only fueled your fear and you had to stifle your instinct to flail, thrash, punch, and run. But doing so would surely make things much worse for you, better to just let them have their way and get it over with and hope you could sneak out after maybe when they were sleeping or otherwise distracted. You could feel the cock of the hybrid behind you gently rubbing against your hole as he licked and bit at your neck. He bent down behind you and spread your cheeks, making you shudder as an inhumanly long tongue prodded your hole before sliding in deep, stretching you out gently as it probed and making you twitch and grow hard as it found and focused on your prostate. The genetics for their tongues definitely came from long tongued bees. The wasp man behind you got up and resumed pressing his cock into your hole. “Just getting you good and ready queen~” He whispered softly into your ear. His large cock mercifully massaged copious amounts of thick precum into you to prep you for breeding. At least the entry wouldn’t be unstretched or dry, because that’s not something you would have put past them. The other two wasps were busy rubbing their hands all over your body, rubbing your belly, groping your ass cheeks, stroking your face with surprising tenderness, and contrasting that with rough greedy groping of your soft thighs and tugging at your hair. As the one behind you slipped inside your well lubed ass a second wasp enveloped your hard cock entirely within its mouth while the third kissed you passionately, its tongue fervently exploring every inch of your mouth. You couldn’t even yell in pleasure or protest the pain of having your ass invaded by a large inhuman cock as the long thin went down your throat, making you gag a bit. Finally respecting your need to breathe, the wasp removed itself from your face and began biting your sensitive neck, adding to the complete overly stimulating waves of sensation already being caused by having your dick enveloped by a hot mouth and your prostate gently kissed by the rhythmic thrusts of the other two insectoid men. The one attending your cock took his free hand to massage your balls and that led you to possibly the quickest orgasm of your life. In any other situation you would have been totally humiliated, but you were long past having any dignity today. The one behind you did not relent in his fucking of you, but instead picked up the pace a bit as he felt your body shudder, the one sucking you off hungrily swallowed your load before licking his lips and getting up. “My, you were really pent up my queen, and you produce such sweet honey for me!” He pressed his lips to yours, letting the taste of your own cum permeate your mouth. Between the kiss and the constant pounding of your ass you whimpered as you were already hard again, the wasp that had previously had its tongue down your throat now replacing the one that swallowed your cum at your cock, kissing the sensitive organ before licking it and sucking your recently emptied nuts. You whimpered as they continued to manhandle your sensitive body. The one pumping into your tight hole finally slamming in hard and cumming forcefully, depositing something round and hard into you as he did, making you flinch a bit in surprise as you remembered that they reproduced via eggs, it did not really hurt, but you felt a tingling inside where the waspoid cum touched you. The cock inside you lingered a while as it filled you but once it slid out and away from you your ass’ rest was short lived. One of the wasps laid with his back on the ground and with his cock pointing up, the other two bringing you over to him and forcing you to lower yourself onto his eager, drooling, prick. Your well stretched hole slid on him easily and he gripped you tight and forced you up and down on his length. That special spot inside you was rubbed once more, making you shudder in unwilling pleasure, your body completely betraying you. The pace was slow enough for you, and surprisingly he seemed unwilling to seriously injure his “queen”. As you were finally getting used to the motions one of the other wasps, the one that had already filled your ass, came up behind and slid his cock back inside you with his friend’s so that you were now being plowed in tandem by the both of them. As you gasped from the sudden extra intrusion abusing your insides the third wasp took advantage of your open mouth and wasted no time in putting his dick in your open mouth. You could taste his precum, oddly enough it had just a slight soothing effect and you noticed it tasted of honey. Filled to the brim with cock, you started to get a bit more relaxed as time went on, not overly so. You were still very unwilling and any pleasure was purely physical, incidental, and frustrating, but whatever was in the honey like fluid dripping from his cock was definitely making you a bit less stiff and just a tad bit less defiant. While this was happening you thought you could remember hearing something about this, that modified wasp and bee species made substances that could calm down their queens when distressed, both in fluids and via pheromones. And now that you thought about it the musk that hung heavily in the air was strangely comforting, it was like the more of the precum that dripped down your throat the more you were affected by the smell that these men were giving off. Not nearly enough to really lose yourself though, it was far more subtle than that. It was also probably why you did not feel too much pain anymore despite two dicks pistoning your ass, as one cock thrust forward the other pulled back. All the while the one occupying your mouth was happily pumping away, content with enjoying the wet warmth of your mouth as he fed you more pre. Between all the sensations overtaking your body, the cocks sliding in and out of you, the pheromones and relaxing fluid, and the hands roaming over your sides, face, and thighs, you couldn’t help but blow another load, right on the wasp that was below you. “See? It feels good to be our queen, doesn’t it,” he asked with a mocking chuckle knowing full well it was just your body’s response and it didn’t mean you were enjoying your predicament. After several minutes the one making you suck him pulled out and moaned as he came all over your face, covering you in warm slippery fluid. There were no eggs in this ejaculation, he was certainly saving all of those to be deposited deep inside you to go along with his friend’s. Your skin tingled a bit where the cum touched you and you began to feel just a bit dizzy as your inhibitions slowly lowered just a bit and you became even more relaxed. The cum was much more potent than just the precum and the load up your ass was gradually affecting you as well. Musk permeating the air was much thicker than it had been, or maybe you just noticed it more now, but it was making you drool a bit and you couldn’t help but bounce back a bit against the dicks in your suddenly hungry hole. “I feel really weird… can we stop now…” You stifled a cry, something wasn’t right, you were much more sensitive than normal to everything and you were having difficulty thinking clearly. The wasps all smirked as they ignored you, knowing that their fluid was slowly turning you into a weak little queen they could worship and fill with egg after egg. It was slowly changing your very DNA, making you receptive to hybrid pheromones, making you crave them. The one that had previously unloaded in you pulled out and came all over your back. Moments later the one below you working you on his shaft like some kind of living sex toy slammed you down to the base of his cock and filled you deeply with even more eggs and semen, causing you to spasm and moan weakly with a dry orgasm of your own. “Fuck! You’re a great incubator!” While you were panting and trying to recover the wasp previously abusing your mouth unceremoniously pulled you off the cock you were on and gripped you tight from behind, his erection easily sliding in your cum leaking entrance. “Not done yet, being queen is very busy work, you have to take my eggs too~” “P-please no more, I-I feel funny,” you pleaded desperately as your head was swimming with mixed signals. You knew you didn’t want this but you were so light headed you could barely think, and now these wasp men smelled so alluring, and wouldn’t having more eggs in you feel so nice? “I-I n-need to s-stop…” You felt an instinctual need to keep letting them fill you up, but at the same time you were burning up and truly felt feeble and sick. “Shhh, shhh, just relax, okay? You have been such a good mate for us so far~” He licked a long stripe up your neck with his thin tongue and held you tighter as he continued grinding into you. Without warning he started flying a few feet in the air while still breeding you, his insect instincts telling him to give you a proper nuptial flight. In no time the other wasps joined in as well, both of them in front of you, tending to their precious queen. Rubbing you up and down, smearing the fluid that covered you into your skin, giving little kisses and nibbles, and caresses where they saw fit. They were a bit brutish, but they knew the transition occurring in all of your cells was a rough one and they wanted to help their queen embrace his new role as easily as possible, especially since you had been such a perfect weak little mate for them. You would have continued to beg for them to stop, but it felt so nice now. And it would have been so ungrateful. These nice men were taking care of you so sweetly, giving you lots of eggs to tend to, choosing you to take care of them. It made you feel fluttery in the pit of your stomach. You were so lucky. With a shudder the final load of eggs was unloaded into you, the wasp man behind you wrapping his legs around yours as he came. They all gently lowered you to the ground, one of them keeping you in his arms with you leaning against him and burying your head in his neck before passing out from sheer exhaustion. The wasps’ fluids were still hard at work rewriting your DNA, somewhat like a virus. It was definitely taking a toll on you. Your harem of wasp-men took you to your house and had you all washed up and bundled in your bed, keeping a dedicated vigil over you as you had a deep but feverish sleep. They did not like seeing you uncomfortable, unless it was from them teasing you. But they knew it would be worth it, when you woke up in a few days you would be totally dependent on them. Your new insect DNA demanding you to always be by one of them for safety and telling you that you would constantly need to be incubating their eggs. Their pheromones would comfort, alert, or arouse you based on what they needed to communicate and you would produce some as well that allowed them to track you and be aware of your condition. You’d even grow antenna and your skin would take a reddish tone. You would technically be a wasp hybrid yourself, but that would be the extent of your transformation. Just a weak incubator hopelessly dependent on them for the rest of your life.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere harem #male harem #yandere male harem #male reader #yandere x reader #monster boyfriends #wasp boyfriends #monster husbands #yandere husbands #yandere boyfriends #male yandere x male reader #My OCs #My OC Wasps

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grievedeeply · 7 months

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Hello there :) I see you take BG3 requests now, if it’s okay please could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Dammon and Karlach falling for reader who always goes out of her way to help them with anything they need 💙💙

decided to take some liberties with this prompt and expand it out a bit to them just being super helpful overall as a person, but going out of their way to help them in particular lol. hope you enjoy anyways and thanks for the request! sorry if these are short I didn't want to be super repetitive

astarion, gale, wyll, dammon and karlach with a helpful s/o headcanons

astarion

he's used to you being incredibly helpful by now. helping out the tieflings in the grove, helping to rescue halsin from the goblin camp.. it's in your nature, he thinks

and with him, you acted the same. only your behaviors increased tenfold with him

you went out of your way to help him, and he isn't sure of why, really. but you won't see him complaining. the less work he has to do to make it by, the better.. and you seem happy to assist, so why not enjoy it?

you tend to offer your neck up to him whenever he's feeling particularly hungry. it's the first time you do this when astarion really realizes you're always a bit more attentive to him than with anyone else

still, he jumps at the opportunity for a free meal. it's not as though he doesn't appreciate it, but he'll always wonder what's going on in your mind whenever you decide to help him out in that way

he's used to being seductive and a bit flirty.. but he notices that with you it starts to feel different. he hates the thought of falling for you, feeling something real and genuine in that way wasn't exactly a familiar thing to him

but he knows you'd treat him well. after all.. you're already this helpful now. but if you were his? he could only imagine how things could change

gale

he doesn't understand it. why you're so helpful

he's very thankful for your help, but he wonders why you always make the extra time to find an artifact for him. days before he needs his next one, it's already in his hands, ready for consumption and it's always because of you

he doesn't want to overthink it. but he will

do you think that he's not as capable as everyone else? is it just out of the kindness of your heart? whatever the reason, he tries to refuse any unnecessary help

even though he appreciates it, he wants to see you spending more of your attention on yourself. he loves that you care for people and especially him, but he wants you to take care of yourself first and foremost

he realizes he's falling for you relatively quickly. no one else in his life had really looked out for him in the way you have. you're special. you're kind and you're.. lovely, really

he adores you, and he'll return your helpfulness in kind!

wyll

oh... wyll

he's so sweet. he's always looking out for you, just like you are for him. you're so incredibly protective of him, especially when mizora is involved

you're trying to find a loophole in his pact whenever you can, and he realizes he's falling for you as soon as he sees how serious you are about this whole thing

he falls hard. no one else had really shown him this type of care before, and he feels appreciated whenever he's with you. you see him as wyll. not just the blade of frontiers

he sees how much you care about other people, too. he sees your heart and your kindness, and he just adores it. it's hard to come by people as genuine as you. he counts himself lucky to even be in your life at all

dammon

he doesn't think he needs the help

he enjoys your company at the forge. you keep his mind occupied and you keep him talking. sometimes he gets so lost in his work that he forgets to eat or drink

but he still doesn't think he needs your help. he's used to doing everything by himself, and he's not exactly the biggest fan of change

but when you start organizing the materials and metals laid about.. it's really nice. he won't say anything or bring it up at all, but he does notice everything you do for him

you'll make him a snack every now and then. you'll tell him to take breaks— things that he forgets to do sometimes— and spend time with him when you're able to

he likes you. a lot. he doesn't admit it right away, but he knows he does. he feels the ache in his heart. he would be a fool to not like you

he'll tell you eventually. hopefully

karlach

she's beyond appreciative of you in general

you're so sweet. it's a big change from her life with zariel in the hells, so she jumps at the opportunity to talk to you whenever it arises

she notices how you jump to help whenever you can as soon as she meets you. after all, you believed her about the paladins when she was practically a stranger

karlach tells you about her infernal engine, and you're constantly trying to find the infernal iron she needs. wherever you go you're looking for it

it puts a smile on her face, knowing that you care so much about her..

she develops feelings for you pretty quickly. you're kind, you're able to see her as more than a soldier.. and that's more than she's had in a long time

a little unrelated, but she's so happy when she gets to touch you. like... over the moon happy

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate III #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x reader #karlach x reader #dammon bg3 x reader #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #gale x reader #gale bg3 x reader #astarion bg3 x reader #karlach bg3 x reader

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endlessthxxghts · 4 months

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Routine

Frankie Morales x coffee shop worker!afab!reader || W/C: ≈7.9k

Summary: Frankie makes a new routine for himself to help with his mental health. In that routine, Frankie stumbles upon you.

Content/Warnings: POV switching - stops towards the end, then POVs are combined. Friends to lovers. Slightly scared and reluctant friends to lovers. Slow burn. Canon divergent to Frankie's Triple Frontier storyline (No history of lady or child for Frankie). Brief mentions of South America and Frankie's mental health. Brief therapy talk. Overthinking!Frankie, but Reader comforts and reassures him. He’s not insecure the entire time, promise lolol. Hints of angst, but this is me we’re talking about — always will be a happy ending here🫶. No physical description of reader besides coffee shop uniform (no size descriptions used) - any descriptions are neutral, no adjectives to describe (purely things like "your thigh" etc.). No use of "y/n". SMUT 18+ MDNI (making out, cunnilingus + fingering, unprotected P in V sex + cumming inside, breast worship/titty sucking). If there's anything that should be up here, please do not hesitate to let me know!

A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and happy days, everyone! This Christmas season, I was apart of @pedrostories' 2023 Secret Santa event where we gift some type of creation to another fellow Pedro-related blog on here. I'm honored to have created this story for the lovely @alwaysbethewest ! I'm a huge sucker for a soft man, so in reading the prompt you gave, I just had to write for good ol' Francisco Morales—the sweetest of the bunch. This story was so cute and sexy to write, I'm so excited to see what you think. I truly hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Frankie

You need to create a routine.

One that takes you out of your house.

Out of your comfort zone.

These words rang in Frankie’s ear as he allowed his feet to make decisions for him today. Ever since South America, Frankie has been struggling to maintain a sense of normalcy again. He rarely leaves his house unless it’s for groceries or work — or as of the last few months, unless it’s for therapy.

Frankie’s therapist noticed he was falling back into his old habits, his old mannerisms; and in being prompted about what his day-to-day looked like outside of therapy, Frankie was met with those three phrases.

“You need to create a routine.”

“I have one,” Frankie says defensively.

“One that takes you out of your house.”

“I do,” he says. “Work. The store.”

“And out of your comfort zone.”

Frankie scoffs. As soon as he thinks of a quip, his therapist’s watch beeps. Saved by the bell.

Frankie rises, getting ready to leave the room. His therapist leaves him with a new assignment. “Clear your schedule. You’re doing nothing but spontaneous decisions tomorrow.”

He takes a breath to calm his frustration. “How will you even know if I’ve done it?” Frankie asks.

“I’ll know.”

“And if I lie?”

“I’ll know,” his therapist reassures.

Which is why he finds himself in the early afternoon at a coffee shop, during what looks like to be its busiest hours of the day. Shit.

He enters the line as he scans the menu on the wall, the line being long enough he’s sure he’ll make a decision by the time he gets to the register. He usually gets straight black coffee, but taking his therapist’s word a little too seriously, he opts for something else.

Hazelnut? No. Mocha? No. Vanilla? No. Fuck, okay, this is harder than it looks.

He scans the tinier board off to the side for today’s special: an horchata latte, either iced or hot. Horchata? He can absolutely get by that. The guy at the register takes the order of the customer in front of him, and the same guy switches off and begins to make the customer’s drink. Waiting to be helped, Frankie reaches into his pocket to get his wallet ready, but still angsty from the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop, his grip fumbles and he drops it.

He bends down to go pick it up, and as he stands back up, he’s immediately met by the most heartstopping view. You, with a brown apron, a hand-drawn name tag, and powdered sugar adorning your cheek. The smile on your face as you greet him causes his brain to short circuit.

“Hi! How can I help you today?” you beam at him, completely unaware of the cuteness radiating off of you, melting his anxieties made of wasps and transforming them into the shape of flapping butterflies all throughout his tummy.

“I- um, hi- yeah, I’d, um-” he stumbles on his words. You smile at him, nodding your head patiently and understanding. “Shit, sorry-” he laughs nervously.

“You’re okay,” you giggle, slightly intrigued at the flushed state of the man before you. “This your first time here? We’ve got a lot of options, it can be very nerve wracking picking from our menu,” you comfort, probably assuming it’s the first-time jitters taking away his ability to speak.

“Oh, uh- yeah, it’s my first time here,” Frankie confirms. “But actually, I had my mind set on today’s special? The horchata latte?”

Your face lights up like a million suns, and his heart feels like it’ll burst any second now. “Oh my gosh, really?!” you squeal. “That’s my creation we’ve highlighted today,” you say excitedly, “and you’re actually the first to order it!” You ring up his total, Frankie handing you his card to swipe in the machine. “Hot or iced?”

“What do you think?”

You study him for a moment. “Personally, I like iced because horchata in itself is already so refreshing, so it adds to that. But you seem like you’d prefer it hot, which is also objectively just as good.”

“Wow,” Frankie says with a smile.

“Was I accurate?”

“Right on the nail,” he confirms.

“Your name?” you ask, reaching for a cup.

“My name?” He asks, confused.

You gesture to the cup with a smirk. “For your order?”

“Oh,” he says. You catch the blush that falls on his cheeks. “Frankie,” he tells you, his hand shooting to the back of his neck to soothe his awkwardness.

“Well, Frankie,” you say after writing his name. “I’ll need an honest review after,” you smile at him as you turn away, signaling for someone else to take register so you can be the one to make his drink.

He can’t help the cheesy smile that forms across his face at the prospect of getting to speak with you again. He turns around and searches for an open table.

He sat on his phone for a few minutes, waiting for his name to be called when someone clears their throat in front of him. He looks up to see you, powdered sugar still kissing your cheek and two drinks — one iced and one hot — in your hands with that smile he’s slowly becoming addicted to.

“Didn’t know you guys do table service?” Frankie asks, in a joking manner but truly he’s curious.

“We don’t,” you smile smugly as you place his cup in front of him. “Told you I needed my review.”

He smiles at you, then reaches for a napkin and lifts his hand towards you as you sit in the seat across from him. He gestures to your cheek. “May I?” You go pale. “Oh, God, don’t tell me I’ve had shit on my face this entire time?”

“Okay, then I won’t,” he offers gently. You lean closer into his hand, giving him the green light. He wipes the powdered sugar from your cheek, his face in concentration mode as he makes sure to wipe it all off. He feels you staring, his face heating up the longer your eyes are on him, but he doesn’t break.

“There,” he whispers, “the shit is gone.” Your faces are still inches from each other.

“Thought you weren’t gonna say anything?” you whisper back.

He breaks the proximity first, clearing his throat to steady himself. He doesn’t reply to your remark. Instead, he grabs the coffee and brings it up to his lips. “Let’s see what this is all about, yeah?” The second the hot liquid touches his tongue, he knows his days of black coffee are over. It’s creamy, the perfect amount of cinnamon, a perfectly pulled espresso shot that highlights the natural nutty undertones — it’s fucking perfect, and he tells you exactly that.

“Guess now you’ve got an excuse to come back,” you tell him.

“I think I had an excuse before that,” Frankie quickly lets out before taking another heady sip, referring to the beautiful human sitting past him.

You lean back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest, something akin to trouble written across your face. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

He’s experienced enough to know when someone is flirting with him. He’s experienced enough to notice a mutual attraction. Yet, there’s something so bold, so intoxicating about you that you’ve thrown him off balance. Whether you’re just a naturally friendly, bold person, or you’ve actually taken an interest in him, there’s no way he’s going away now. You’ve got him hooked.

You need to create a routine, he was told, and creating a routine is exactly what he’s going to do.

It’s been six months since his first visit, and in those six months, he’s had the opportunity to really get to know you.

In the first month, he visited twice a week, once during the weekdays and once on the weekends. He made sure to time it on what he noticed to be your shift, and he also timed it for right when you were about to take your break. Catching on pretty quickly, you offer him a bit of reassurance.

“My schedule is the most consistent out of all of my coworkers, by the way,” you say, sipping on your iced mocha.

His ears perk up. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Been here the longest, so the owners let me play around with my schedule and pick up shifts that I want to,” you tell him. “But my therapist a few years ago told me to set a routine for myself, so-”

Frankie chokes on his coffee with a laugh.

“Oh my god,” you giggle, “you okay?” you ask him, leaning forward to pat on his back.

Frankie’s breath falters at the contact. “Y-yeah, I’m good,” he pulls away from your embrace out of nervousness. If you notice, you don’t mention it. “Just threw me off a little.”

“Why? What’d I say?” you reply.

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just,” he sets his coffee down. “A month ago, I had a therapy session, and my therapist told me the exact same thing. They literally told me I needed to create a routine for myself,” he says.

“Oh,” you say with a straight face. Your face goes unreadable for a second, and he feels like he fucked something up. “So is that why you’ve been harassing me for weeks on end?”

Frankie looks like he’s just seen a ghost, pale and flushed at the same time, his ability to form any kind of words rendered impossible. “I- no, I-”

In his state of panic, he’s looking everywhere except you. He feels your hands wrap around his, and you’re leaning closer to him, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Frankie, I’m joking,” you coo. You can see his jaw unclench as he searches your eyes for any signs of discomfort from him. Nothing. There’s something there as he holds your stare, but nothing tells him you don’t want him here. A shy smile forms on his face, and the bashful blush on his cheeks return. He knows you notice it, but still, you don’t mention it.

“For what it’s worth,” you speak again. “I enjoy having you in my routine, too,” his own giddy demeanor reflecting back at him through you. There goes the butterflies again.

Five months in, and he’s coming into the shop everyday. He doesn’t always get coffee, but mostly, he’s there to see you. Sometimes you’re way too busy to take a break any time soon, so he’ll slip in, give you a little wave hello, accept your sweet smile in return, and he’ll slip out.

“Gonna actually get something today, Morales?”

A few visits ago on your break, you ask him if his name is short for anything, and quickly add in that if Frankie is what he prefers, you don’t care to know anything else. His heart melts at the sentiment, at how understanding and gentle of a human you are. Not only to him, but to everyone who has the privilege to interact with you.

Francisco Morales, he tells you. Francisco, Frankie, Frank, you can call me whatever you want. This time, he thinks he catches the heat creeping on your face, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Morales, huh? And what do you mean actually?”

“I’m not dumb, Frankie,” you smirk. “I know you don’t get anything a few of the times you stop by.”

He swears his heart falls out of his ass. He thought you’d be too busy to even notice. As a former special op, he thought he would have been more slick about it.

He scans the menu above you, as if he hasn’t studied it a thousand times over, just to get out of your piercing gaze. “Just tryna keep the routine, is all,” he retorts.

“The routine, huh?” you smile at him, a hint of mischief in your eyes, along with that same something he can’t quite identify — it makes his chest swell. “Your favorite is back on the menu, by the way.”

Frankie turns to the special board: horchata latte. Smiling to himself before he responds, “I’ll have that, then,” he says, reaching for his card. “You going on your break now?” he asks.

“Yes,” you reply, “and coffee is on me today.”

His eyebrow quirks up at you. “Please?” you tell him with the world’s worst (more like cutest) puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. How the hell can he say no to you now?

“Fine,” he deadpans.

You squeal in excitement. You shoo him away to go find a seat, and you’re at his side within moments, two hot cups in your hands.

He looks quizzically at the other cup. “I don’t know, I’m just feeling like a hot cup today,” you shrug. “What can I say, you’ve influenced me,” you giggle, not realizing just how much that statement affects Frankie’s crushing little heart. God, you’re beautiful, he can’t help but think as you curl up as best you can in your chair while you sip on your coffee. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way about you. One, you’re practically his best friend at this point, and two, you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like him.

“So,” you say, pulling him from his thoughts.

“So,” he repeats.

“I was actually thinking of taking this weekend off,” you tell him.

His face falls a little, but he’s quick to fix it before you notice — hopefully. “Oh, is everything okay?” he asks.

“Nothing bad,” you reassure him. “I just think I need a little weekend to myself before the busy holiday season really starts.”

“That’s understandable,” Frankie replies.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “But…” you trail off.

“Buuuut?” He drags the word out for dramatic effect, sensing your nervousness and wanting to help calm you.

You giggle at his antics. “But I don’t wanna break our routine,” you say quietly. A little oh escapes his mouth. “I was wondering if you- if you wanted to hang out, maybe? On Saturday? Or even Sunday? Whatever works for you… and you can obviously say no, don’t feel obligated-”

It’s always been you cutting him off from his overthinking and comforting him, and now it’s his turn. He leans forward, wrapping his hands around yours as they hug your coffee cup. He gives you a little squeeze and calls your name gently. “I would love to.”

“Okay,” you say sweetly. “Wanna do a movie night?”

“Anything you want,” he tells you.

It’s surprising he didn’t have your phone number until five months in. Though, come to think of it, he’s seen you practically everyday since he met you. And there was no need to communicate beyond that. Right?

Shaking his head to clear him from his thoughts, he copies your address from your guys’ text thread and pastes it into his maps. It takes him five minutes to get to your place, and as soon as he gets to your front door, you’re already opening before he has a chance to knock.

“Oh! Frankie, hi,” you gasp delightedly. “Perfect timing,” you laugh. “I was just gonna grab the groceries out of my car. Go inside, make yourself at home.”

“Hi,” he smiles, “I can help with the groceries?”

“Oh, that’s okay, it’s just one bag. Give me one second,” you say walking to your car.

He waits for you as you grab the bag, both of you walking back inside together. “So I’m terrible at picking a movie, and if I didn’t narrow down our options, I feel like we’d be here all night deciding.”

“What do ya got for me?” he smiles as he makes his way to your couch, purely just enjoying being in your presence regardless of the movie you both decide to put on.

“Alright, since we’re nearing Christmas, I have a few holiday options, and then a few general of my favorites — Elf, The Grinch, or Home Alone; or we can do my personal favorite, but I promise I’m good with whatever you choose, Labyrinth, Paddington 1 or 2-”

Frankie’s eyes light up at the latter option, and you immediately catch on. “Okay, so I’m guessing one of the Paddington’s?” you say with a snort.

He grimaces. “Was it that obvious?”

“Frankie, you literally looked at me like I am your entire world,” you laugh. “Yes, it was that obvious.”

“I mean, it’s not any different than how I usually look at you,” Frankie says without thinking. Immediately his hand is on his mouth.

He sees the shock on your face for a millisecond before you’re back to your usual cool and collected self. How the fuck do you do that? “Okay but which Paddington? There’s only one right answer, here.”

Although his heart is still beating through his damn chest, the question puts him back on track. “Paddington 2, duh,” he says without missing a beat, he rolls his eyes as he playfully scoffs at you.

“Good answer,” you say sternly but with a smile. You set up your TV onto Paddington 2 and then quickly run to the kitchen to grab the popcorn you made. You set the bowl on your coffee table, turning back to grab something to drink. “What’s your drink of choice? I’ve got water, tea, soda — I can whip up a coffee for you, too, if you’d like,” you yell to him.

“Hmm, enticing, but I’m okay with water for now, though, thank you.”

You return back to your living room, scanning the table making sure you don’t need anything else. You ask Frankie if he does.

“Just you,” Frankie says, again, not thinking before he speaks. God damn it, Francisco, get it together.

You smirk at him, he sees your eyes tracing the red across his cheeks. Christ. “You’ve had me for a while, Morales,” you say under your breath, softly but still loud enough for him to hear. Your words genuinely cause his heart to skip a beat. You settle onto the couch beside him, ignoring his shocked face. “Ready to watch?” hints of your smugness still there.

“Y-yeah, ready,” he stutters.

Six months. It’s been six months since he met you and his old self would never have expected his day to day to look like this. He’s got a usual stop at your work—always on his lunch since you start later—sometimes getting coffee and other times your smile is all that he needs to feel energized for the day.

You

And on the weekends, you two share a movie night—your version of recharging for your next work week.

Ever since the first weekend you took off, you loved the mental break it gave you, so Frankie encouraged you to take the leap and start taking off every weekend. The owners agreed, of course. He assured you it wouldn’t break into your routine together. If anything, your time together has increased significantly. You genuinely have no idea what you’d do without Frankie at your side nearly every single day, but there’s something in your heart telling you he’s feeling the same way.

For six months, since the very first moment he fell bashful in his presence, you’ve been completely and utterly captivated by him. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him—especially not so early and not for this long—but there’s always been a magnetic pull between you. Both of you know it and neither of you can deny it, especially in the occasional flirty comment made by either of you, but there’s something holding you back from pushing for something more. You’ve grown accustomed to seeing him practically every single day, and one wrong move or one wrong boundary crossed, and suddenly everything is gone. You can’t risk it. You’d rather keep him at arm's length at all times rather than not have him at all. He’s your best friend for crying out loud. You cannot lose him to something so juvenile.

However, with tonight being your weekend ritual paired with a particularly draining week of work, all you wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep your entire weekend away. Though, what you wanted more was to see Frankie. He told you it was truly okay if he didn’t come tonight, knowing about how hectic your week was, but you weren’t having any of that.

“I swear to God, Frankie, I will fight you,” you told him on the phone earlier.

“Oh, really?” You could hear his smug face in his reply. “I’d like to see you try.”

The butterflies erupt in your belly and begin to fly lower towards your core, igniting a spark in the lower part of you that you’ve been trying to keep at bay for months. You take a deep breath before steering the conversation elsewhere. You know he both hates and loves when you do that—smoothly pulling away from the bait he gives you while saving his ego in the process. You’ve gotten so good at this after years of unwanted flirting from customers. You didn’t realize how perfect this skill would be in keeping your distance from the man you want most.

“Shut up and get your ass over here, Morales,” you tell him. “I know where you live, you should be here by the time I change into my damn pajamas.”

“Should I change into mine, too?” He teases.

You both know Frankie loses every flirty little challenge that occurs between you. Which is why he isn’t surprised at your response, but it still stirs him up nonetheless. “That depends,” you say, your voice dropping in tone. “Are you a gray sweatpants or plaid pajama pants kind of guy?”

“Both,” he says. To the average ear, it’d sound like the most casual response. To your ear, though, you can hear the pain laced in his voice.

You stifle a giggle. “In that case, yes, please, by all means. Change into your pajamas, baby.”

You don’t leave room for him to reply, ending the call before you can overthink how that was the most suggestive flirty comment you’ve made yet.

Pulling your head back into focus mode, you go to your kitchen to start preparing the usual snacks you two indulge in during these nights. You also got a new ice cream flavor on your last grocery run that you thought was interesting and wanted to try, but you’ll pull that out when he gets here. Or maybe not. You don’t need to watch him clean off his spoon like the attentive man you’ve come to learn that he is. Your body shudders at the image.

Goodness, what is up with you today? You are always so good at keeping your feelings down, especially the physical ones. There must be something in the air today, because all you can think about are things you shouldn’t be doing with or to your best friend.

Before you know it, a knock is at your door, and you cannot help the way your eyes immediately sweep his body from top to bottom with a lingering stare at his center. You’re absolutely shameless with it, too, your tongue darting out to lick your lips as you drink in the sight of him. Gray sweatpants. A dark green, fitted tee. You are drooling.

Your eyes finally meet his own, and you’re met with a smug Frankie, knowing that this time, he won this round. “You alright there?” He asks you.

Confusion takes over your face. “Huh?”

He brings his fingers up to swipe across his lip. Oh, dear God. “Got a little bit of...” he trails off with a smile.

Your ears finally register his remark, and your hand is immediately swatting at his chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “Get inside.”

He follows you into the kitchen, a new thing he started doing a few weekends ago to help bring all the snacks to your living room in one go rather than multiple trips. It also takes away from the amount of time he’s not with you, so you never questioned it. Walking back to the living room, you speak once more. “I cannot guarantee staying up the entire time, and I apologize now if I fall asleep on you.”

He says your name in an I told you so manner, “I already told you I didn’t have to come.”

You’re sitting side by side on the couch now. “And I already told you I don’t care,” you respond back. He shakes his head disapprovingly at your persistence. You know he’s biting back a smile. A goofy smile you’ve caught a handful of times, and you eat up every single one. “You can choose the movie, though, seriously.” Adjusting yourself to a more comfortable position on the couch, a position where the sides of your bodies are closer together, your head finding solace on his shoulder, you add, “I swear, I think I wanted you here to be my pillow.”

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” he whispers, taking control of the remote to throw on Elf. Your eyes are already beginning to close, and you mutter a small yeah at Frankie’s statement, then you are out like a light.

Frankie

Frankie spends most of the night watching and listening to you rather than the movie. Watching how your nose twitches ever so often or listening to the occasional snore that escapes you. He doesn’t even realize the movie is over until a trailer for another movie is halfway through. His wingspan allows him to reach the remote nearby, and he quickly shuts the television off.

He debates if he should wake you and make sure you get to your bed safely, or if he should just slip out from underneath you and continue letting you sleep. You look so peaceful, he thinks. Yet exhausted. He decides on letting you sleep. Or at least, he tries to.

He gently attempts separating himself from you, his hand cradling your head to rest it on the couch cushion rather than his shoulder. Even in your sleepy state, you’re just as stubborn. You smack his hand away and wrap your arms tighter around his arm, nuzzling your head further into his shoulder to gain your comfort back again. You let out a final huff before settling on your position.

“Sweet girl,” he whispers. He can’t stop the endearment leaving his lips. His heart is too full at the way you’re physically attaching yourself to him. “I need to go,” he says softly. “Gotta let you sleep.”

Your grip tightens more so, a little whimper leaving your lips as your eyebrows furrow. “Stay,” you mumble.

And although you’re fully overtaken by sleep, he’ll be damned if he ever argues with you, no matter the state you’re in. He takes a deep, settling breath. “Only for a little while longer,” he mumbles unconvincingly as he minutely adjusts his body to a more comfortable position, his head leaning partly atop yours.

You

It’s not lost on you—the two words that fell from Frankie’s lips when he thought you were deep in your slumber. It took every ounce of your willpower not to shudder at the way it echoed throughout your fatigue-hollowed brain.

You thought that maybe, with Frankie’s perception of your sleepy state, you could let part of your inhibitions go with him—reveal to him how you really feel, and pretend the next morning that you don’t remember what you said if something you don’t want to hear is revealed. Though, that’s easier said than done, only able to build the courage to mutter one little word to him as you continue laying in his warm embrace, the soothing sounds of his steady breathing blessing your ears.

The longer you lay here, the more antsy you become. What could possibly go wrong if you two revealed how you feel to each other? You know one hundred percent that the feelings are mutual; it’s a matter of who breaks first, and quite honestly? You’re fed up.

You lift your head up, turning to look at him. He’s out. “Frankie,” you whisper-yell. Nothing.

“Frankie,” you say a little louder. Still nothing. How the hell did he doze so fast?

Finally, with a small slap to his cheek and one final call of his name, he’s up—and confused as fuck.

“Huh-” he blinks heavily. His groggy eyes are searching for you. “Cariño, are you okay? What’s going on?” he rushes out, the sleep disorienting his ability to respond appropriately, forcing worry to the forefront of his mind. Too worked up to let his brain chemistry regulate, you rip the bandaid right off. “Francisco, do you have feelings for me?”

Well, fuck. If he wasn’t awake then, he sure as hell is now.

“I-” he takes a deep breath, still trying to get his brain to catch up with the whiplash of events. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks, slightly defensive from the natural accusatory inflection with a question like this.

Your face falls. So does his heart. “Frankie, don’t be coy,” you say—you beg. “Please, just answer the question.”

He breaks your closeness, turning his body on the couch to completely face him. You mirror his movement. His eyes are searching yours. That something he couldn’t quite identify; that something that swims your gaze every time his eyes meet yours? It’s there, and he knows damn well what it is. He was just too afraid to admit it, to mortalize it into something real, something tangible. Because deep down? He knows he doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve the love you give. The loyalty. The care. He’s done too much bad in this world to even fathom a mere chance at a life with you.

But the way you sit there, staring back at him like he’s your entire world, he can’t stop the selfish desire to spill his truth to you.

“Yes,” he lets out. The pure admittance is like a ton of weights have been completely lifted off of his chest after carrying it for so long. He can see the relief on your face, too, all your anxieties washing away with a single-syllable, three letter word.

“Oh, thank God,” you softly giggle as you choke back a sob. Frankie can feel his eyes tear up.

“Frankie?” you call.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Please kiss me.”

His hands are on your cheeks in seconds, pulling you in to slot his lips with yours, a sweetness laced with a fire that’s been begging to be ignited since he met you—powdered sugared cheeks and a smile that could take a person out faster than any punch in the gut could.

It’s quick to grow more passionate, his tongue dancing across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You let him in, of course—your tongue falls into a perfect tango, as if it were meant to be doing this dance with him all along. A soft, breathy moan escapes your lips, and you eventually build enough strength to pull away.

Frankie’s quick to apologize, his overthinking getting the best of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so carried away-”

You pull him in for a quick kiss to shut him up, a little laugh swirling in the air. “At what point did I make it feel or sound like I wasn’t enjoying that?”

In the dim light of your living room, you see a familiar tint glow across his nose and cheeks. He doesn’t—and can’t—respond to your very sound logic. “No, I-” you start, suddenly feeling yourself get all shy. “I pulled away because I- um…I was wondering if y-you-” you cut yourself off in frustration, grumbling out at the way you suddenly can’t face the man whose tongue was in your throat moments ago.

You pick yourself up off the couch, grab his wrist, and swiftly lead you two to your bedroom. Crossing the threshold of your room, you stop at the edge of your bed. “I-is this okay?”

Frankie stares at you in a trance, a lust-filled yet pure adoring trance. Before your eyesight can register, Frankie’s dropping to his knees, hands on your hips to urge you to settle on your bed. “This is okay,” he promises.

He kisses your belly through your pajamas. “More than okay,” he mumbles to no one in particular.

“Frankie,” you whimper.

“Can I taste you, baby?” He asks, his gaze finally breaking from your eyes to glance down to your core.

“Y-you don’t have to,” your voice quivers.

His fingers find the hem of your pants, waiting for your signal. “Oh, I don’t have to,” he tells you. “But I want to,” he inhales. “To be honest, I need to, so fucking bad, baby.”

“Fuck,” you say as you rapidly nod your head for him, his hands wasting no time in pulling your bottoms of you. The desperation laced in his voice alone has your eyes wanting to roll back. You’re settling yourself to the edge of your bed, leaning back as you spread your legs for him. “Take what you want, Morales,” you declare.

He smirks before he dives in. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh!” you gasp out at the sensation, pure warmth and passion behind his movements, your head struggles to maintain upright at the sight. Your bottom lip instinctively hides between your teeth in an attempt to stifle the moans threatening to escape you, your tiny little whimpers the only sounds escaping you.

He starts with a flat stripe up your cunt, his tongue gliding through your folds and lapping up your wetness to bring it up to circle your clit a few times before dragging back down to your entrance. His fingers are curling into your bed sheet tightly, scared to cross any boundaries by moving too fast to your liking. His cock instantly jumps at his senses being consumed; your sweet, tangy taste mixed with the distinct, saccharine scent that’s uniquely you—he can’t control the groan that escapes his throat and floods through you. God, he could spend forever worshiping at your altar, completely and utterly content.

He pulls away momentarily, the slick bottom half of his face shining back at you. “I just know you can make a lot more of those sweet sounds for me, cariño,” he says as his tongue licks his bottom lip. “It’s just you and me, baby, let me hear you,” he says with a sharp flick of his tongue to your clit. “F-fuck,” you yelp out, your body jolting at the sudden piercing pleasure of his tongue’s movement, your fingers scrambling to the curls on his head. He looks up to you with a smirk, reveling in your reaction.

And with that, his hands are gripping your thighs, his face jumping right back in, completely flush against your center, his nose squished against your mound. His eyes are rolling back at the feel of you, the way your slick just pours for him as he continues licking and sucking everywhere he can reach. “F-feel so good,” you moan, your strength finally breaking as your upper body crashes down onto the bed, your back arching in pleasure.

His dominant hand releases your thigh, and you can feel his finger teasing your entrance as his mouth treks back up to your needy bundle of nerves. “Frankie,” you gasp, “please.”

He moans a raspy mhm into you, his finger not wasting another second before he dips inside, utterly turned on at the warmth wrapped around his finger. He can only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his aching length.

Frankie lifts off your clit with a pop, his finger still pumping in and out, in and out. Your hips are meeting each movement, desperate moans and incoherent pleas leaving your mouth as he watches your pleasure in a pure bliss.

His eyes fall back down to your cunt and the way it’s greedily swallowing his middle finger. “God damn, baby,” he mutters. “I think you can take another, sweet girl,” he breathes, leaning down again to place an open-mouthed kiss on your sensitive center. “What do ya think?” he asks breathily.

He’s watching every inch of you—the way your thighs are twitching, the way your fingers are stark white in its grip, the way your mouth is falling open into a weak o-shape as you try and force words to leave your mouth. “P-please,” you attempt, “a-another-”

Immediately, he’s straightening out his ring finger to join his middle, his smug smirk falling into a desperate one, needing to pull every ounce of pleasure he can from you really his only goal for tonight. “I’ve got you, cariño,” he tells you, his mouth returning back to lavish you as his fingers curl and hit the spongy trigger button from deep inside.

You practically yell out for him—neighbors be damned—as your orgasm overtakes every inch of your being, catapulting you into another pleasure-filled dimension. “I’ve got you,” he comforts with his lips still attached to your skin, “let go for me, mi amor.”

His fingers are still pumping inside of you, fucking you through the intense wave of your orgasm. His head rests on your thigh, pressing soft kisses and sweet praises as you slowly gain consciousness.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Too good to me.”

“Estoy tan enamorado de ti.”

Frankie takes your hazy disposition for granted, using this small window to whisper everything he’s been wanting to say to you forever.

You begin to whimper at his movements, and he takes that as his queue to relieve you. His fingers finally leave, his mouth taking the responsibility of lapping up your slick—thoroughly, you note, as you watch him rise to his full height.

“You okay, cariño?” He asks as he swiftly takes his shirt off. Your eyes grow impossibly darker at his bare torso, your spit falling thicker, and you’re quick to scramble yourself up higher onto your bed.

“More than okay,” you mirror his words from earlier. He lets out a little laugh, the butterflies in his tummy ever-present as his eyes scan you up and down. He pulls down his sweats, too, before he’s kneeling on the bed, crawling up towards where you’re situated. You can’t help the way your smirk falls when your eyes do—pure hunger consumes your features, and Frankie’s cock jumps at the sight.

He gulps at the way you’re eating him alive, too eager to be inside you yet too nervous in the case of accidentally messing anything up. The last thing he wants to do is cross the line with you.

As if reading his mind, you take the initiative to pull your top off, your boobs an immediate distraction from his anxieties. “Don’t get shy on me now, Morales,” you say as you let your hands caress your body and make its way down to your still-soaked pussy. “She’s feeling so empty,” you pout, your hips bucking up as your fingers rub your clit.

You swear Frankie’s eyes flash red, and he’s caging you against your bed within seconds. One arm hooked around your waist, the other holding himself up near your head. You bracket his hips with your own as his lips hungrily crash into yours.

You can feel the way his cock rubs against your center, his hips grinding into yours, letting his tip catch onto your clit as your tongues fight for dominance. Your hand snakes down without him realizing, a hearty gasp leaving his throat as your fingers pump him a few times before you guide him towards your entrance, easily pulling him in with your post-orgasm slick.

He’s slow with the way he’s thrusting into you; pulling out until only the tip is inside only to push all the way in at an agonizing pace as he lets you get used to his size.“S-shit,” he whimpers, followed by your name. “So d-damn g-good,” he takes a shaky breath. “‘S like you were m-made f’me,” he forces out, pained.

Even though it was an easy glide in, Frankie is fucking huge, his girth still providing a slight sting of a stretch, but you love it. You’re gonna feel him inside you for days at a time, and the thought makes your pussy flutter around him. His hold on your waist tightens in an attempt to steady any squirming that might come from you. “Gonna fucking cum already if you keep on like that, honey,” he groans. His eyes are shut in pained pleasure.

Fighting against his hold, you start meeting his thrusts, the angle of your hips providing the perfect friction against your clit, you just might cum again in seconds if you both keep this up.

“I don’t care,” you tell him, your ankles locking around his waist. “Fuck me, Frankie,” you say, grabbing onto his face to making him look at you. “Make up for loss time, and fuck me,” you snarl.

His lips are sloppily on you, hips speeding up, pounding into you deliciously hard. Both of you are too lost in the pleasure to even properly kiss right now—a mess of spit, tongue, and teeth clashing as you swallow each other’s moans.

Frankie breaks his lips from yours and he trails his touch lower, biting onto your chin and nipping lower and lower all over your neck. The sensation causes a fresh wave of flutters at your core, evident in the even louder wet squelch each thrust produces from between you.

You’re feeling so good, too good, that your chest arches into him, and Frankie takes the opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipples. Licking and sucking on each, slathering them in his spit before ultimately latching onto your left breast and practically making out with it as he continues fucking you into your matress.

“Oh my God, Frankie,” you whine, eyes clamping shut at just how good he’s making you feel. “Just like that, baby, please don’t stop,” you say, your fingers finding purchase in his curls for a second time tonight, keeping him on your chest. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum again.”

He lifts off your left breast, and moves on to the right, trailing wet kisses on his path over. “Let me feel you, princesa,” he mutters as he gives your other breast the same treatment. His hand leaves your waist to make its way to your clit, giving you the extra push you needed to fall off the edge once more. Your pussy clenches at the feeling—a stream of yes and please and fuck leaves your mouth—causing his stomach to tighten, dragging him to the edge along with you. “Cum with me,” you say. “Cum in me,” you quickly revise, “need to feel you,” you whimper.

His fingers speed up on you as his hips falter in its rhythm, and then it’s pure white, hot bliss consuming both of you in a way neither of you have ever felt. “Oh, fuck,” he lets out as he lifts off of your breast, pretty red flowers blooming under his mouth’s touch. Fireworks erupt behind your eyelids, vibrating you from the inside out, as a fire roars through every nerve of his body, leaving him a heaving, trembling, jello piece of mass above you as he struggles not to crush you.

You can feel the way his muscles are shaking, the bed vibrating with him. A giggle filled with ecstasy escapes you, relishing in the contrast of the airiness of your body compared to the solid mass he turns into post-orgasm.

You grab onto his shoulders, and softly nudge him to slide to lay beside you before you slip off on jello legs to the bathroom and kitchen. With as much strength he can muster, he turns to you with a frown. “Where you going?”

“Just gonna get a cloth and water for us both, baby,” you chuckle. You head to the kitchen first and bring the waters to your night stand, taking a large gulp from your glass and forcing him to do the same. You bring yourself back to the bathroom and wipe yourself with a warm cloth, throw it in the hamper, and get a new one to clean Frankie.

You make your way to his bedside, and you bring the cloth to his face first. He’s quick to stop you. “Frank,” you scold. “What are you doing?”

“I…” his face goes red. “I can still smell you on me.”

You swear your knees buckle, heat overtaking your entire body. “Let me clean it,” you whisper, not really knowing how to reply to that. He just gives you puppy dog eyes. You quirk your eyebrow at him. “You can taste me again later,” you offer with a smirk.

He thinks it over for a second, a sigh escaping his lips like he just made the hardest decision ever. “Fiiiine,” he drags out, exaggerated.

After you wipe the rest of him down and bring his cloth to your hamper, he’s quick to reach for you with grabby hands, always needing to be in your embrace—especially more so now.

You cuddle facing each other, your head tucked into his neck as your legs tangle with one another. He’s drawing shapes and lines all around your back.

“Hey, Frankie?” you call out.

“Yeah, cariño?”

“You said something earlier,” you say. “Estoy enamorado something. What does that mean?”

Frankie’s ears go hot. Surely after everything you two just did together, that’s a declaration of love in itself. What more if it’s actually verbalized? “Oh. Um- yeah,” he replies a little rigidly. “Estoy tan enamorado de ti,” he repeats the phrase.

You’re looking up at him now, eyes bright and curious. “Yeah, that!”

“It- um- it means…” he trails off. He meets your gaze, and his heart stops. He’s so in love with you.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “It means I’m so in love with you.”

Your gaze shifts from one of curiosity to one of pure, unfiltered love. Your eyes are tearing up at his admission. He brings his finger up to catch a tear escaping your eye.

You sniffle and take a shaky breath in. “Well, in that case. I’m so in love with you,” you state matter-of-factly, pushing your body up to catch his lips in a soft but lengthy kiss, one that hopefully translates to him just how much you love him, need him, and want him—ever since you took his order.

He releases your lips to place a soft kiss to your nose then to your forehead before pulling you in closer to relax in each other’s hold. A few more moments pass before he calls your name.

“Hm?”

“Can you remind me tomorrow to reach out to my therapist?”

“Of course, baby,” you say with a kiss to his chest. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, baby, everything’s good,” he confirms. “Just need to send them a gift basket or something.”

You look up at him with a confused look on your face. “You and your therapist give each other gifts during Christmas?”

“No,” he tells you. “Well, I thought we didn’t. But in telling me to fix my routine, they led me to you, so.”

“Baby,” you frown, feeling yourself tear up again.

“I know I pay ‘em to do this,” he says, “but a gift like this? A miracle like this? I feel like I’ve gotta give something a little more.”

Unable to hold in your emotions, you crash your lips against his for the millionth time tonight. Pulling away a little breathless, you say, “Sign my name on there, too.”

End note: Again, I truly hope you, @alwaysbethewest (and everyone else) were able to enjoy the way this sweet sweet story unfolded. I didn't realize just how much their dynamic would mean to me, but here we are, an entire piece of my heart later💚. Thank you for prompting me exactly what you did. I'm endlessly grateful. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year! Lastly, I just want to give a little special shoutout to my rock @javierpena-inatacvest for proofreading this story for me and making sure it did our Frankie boy justice. I love you.💚

Tags: @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @survivingandenduring @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse @yorksgirl

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future stories or would like to stop being tagged altogether. Much love! Xx

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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madwomansapologist · 4 months

Text

gift exchange with baldur's gate 3 companions

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: As the end of the year approaches, the group united by worms decides over starting a tradition: exchanging gifts!

warnings: i don't think there is any...? this can be seen as tavrem or just platonic. ASTARION FLIRTS. i use tav as a nickname for reader, so... i made the sortition on a site so this is really random. i swear. like y'all wont't believe me, but it's random. also, i love those weirdos. just thought i should said that. happy rest of 2023 for all of us!

After losing a bet, Gale was responsible for starting what soon will be a tradition among the almost honorable group.

Gale stood up from his place near the fire, an unopened package floating beside his body, making a little flourish. "When I found out who companion I would gift, an immense honor took over my chest. My virtuosic―"

"Chk," Lae'zel crossed her arms. The look on her face was clear: she was daring Gale to dare her. "Humanoid, use fewer words."

Gale breathe in, so close to losing it. One things is to be disrespected, an that he can bear, but to be interrupted? He prepared jokes, and it would even rhyme. Decided not to be the one that would ruin the night, he ignored her.

"To sum up," he smiled at Lae'zel. "What a honor to put a face to the name, Blade of Frontiers."

Wyll hugged Gale, patting his shoulder affectionately. "The honor is all mine to meet such a renowned wizarding prodig."

Gale handed over the package, and then sat back down by the fire. The wine goblet returned to the wizard's hand.

Wyll's smile gradually died. From the packaging, he took out a book. "General Theory of Contracts and Unilateral Acts?" He glared at Gale. "What should this mean?"

"I'm just helping my friend," Gale took a sip. "So in the future you won't sign any appealing contract."

Facing the book that soon will be burned, Wyll regret getting into debt with Tav just so he could buy the perfect gift.

Wyll picked up the bag left on the log, and ignored Shadowheart's giggles.

"In this year full of surprises, good ones and horrible ones, but meeting this person..." Wyll breathed. "Gale, you worthless cunt. Astarion, I hope you like this."

Astarion took the gift with his fingertips, excited to have guessed who had drawn him. He told Karlach that Wyll was acting strange lately. He didn't thanked Wyll, that is something he'll only do if his gift is good.

When he touched what was inside the bag, he knew that the fabric was of quality. And upon seeing the details of the black ensemble, Astarion's smile became real.

"Oh, darling," he purred. "You spoil me."

With a smug smile and a hesitation to provoke his companions, Astarion continued.

"To show that I am capable of doing the right thing from time to time," Astarion licked his fangs. "I spent arduous weeks collecting what I would need for tonight's best gift."

Everyone booed him.

Rolling his eyes, Astarion took the chest from his tent. "I smell the scent of jealousy coming from all of you," said Astarion. He stopped talking, just to play with everyone's feelings. "That one is to my sweet leader."

You cheered as you stood up. If there's one thing no one can say about Astarion, it's that he doesn't have good taste. After all, there is a reason for why he chose to bite you.

"Thank you, darling," you mirrored the way he talks to you. "That won't make me mad, will it?"

"Oh, Tav, you know me" your nickname flowed from his lips like honey. "I only play with your feelings when we have privacy."

When he handed you the trunk, you even stumbled under its weight. You placed it on one of the fallen trees. Opening it, a smile appeared on your face.

Potions. Lots of potions. Of all kinds. Speed, invisibility, healing. Poisons, coatings. From the most basic to the rarest.

Looking at Astarion, you pouted. "Thank you," you whispered.

Excited, you runned to your tent to take the hidden gift. Something on you told you the problems you got yourself into just to able to get that would be worth it.

"Oh gods," Gale murmured. Sarcams dripped from his tongue. "What is that? Can anyone tell?"

"On my defense," you pointed at him. No words made to your brain, so you breathed in. "How else would I pack an trident?"

"Not like that," said Shadowheart.

You chose not to discuss with them only because you knew that just wrapping it with red silk and a pink knot was a bad idea, but it still hurted to know that it was the best you could do. How can wrapping things be so difficult? Why no one told you that it would be so difficult?

"The person I gonna gift deserve the whole world, and one day I will sure that they get's it," you started. Surprised that Lae'zel didn't stopped you already, you continued. "I really wasn't expecting to like that person, but she won my heart so easily."

"Heart," Lae'zel murmured. "Is it Karlach?"

Karlach jumped from her place. "IS IT ME?!"

You showed your tongue to Lae'zel, then turned to Karlach. "Yes, it is!"

In a matter of seconds you were too far from the ground. Only when your breathing had already become a problem did Karlach carefully place you on the ground again.

Karlach tore open the wrapping, the trident glinting in her hands. She was already thanking you so happily. The only reason why she didn't hugged you again was because she didn't want to hurt you.

"This pretty girl in your hands is Nyrulna," you started. "Because of an spell, it'll return to your hand when thrown. Plus, no one can force you to drop it. It also creates an explosion. But the best part is that I found a way to make it red!"

Wyll sighed, and threw his book on the fire.

"Hey!" Gale yelled.

After a little dance to celebrate, Karlach tried to control her beaming smile. She didn't knew most of her companions felt their hearts getting warmer, but if she did it would have just worried her.

Karlach held onto the box she protected with her life to ensure no one would tamper with the gift. "This person deserves a fucking break and I―"

"Shadowheart," you yelled. "Is it Shadowheart?"

"You're fucking right!" Karlach pointed at the cleric. "Is it you, my girl! You're the one that deserve a break!"

"Well," Shadowheart forced a little smile. "Thank you. I guess."

Karlach handed over the small package, and without delay she pulled Shadowheart into a hug. The brunette had no option but to accept it. Carefully, Shadowheart opened the package and found a book with leather cover.

She threw the package on the floor to open it. "What is it about?" Shadowheart asked, flipping through the book.

"It's a collection of erotic stories," said Karlach.

Halsin took a sip from his goblet. Finally someone with taste.

Shadowheart ignored whatever wit comment Astarion made and took a deep breath. "Of course it is."

Shadowheart wasn't recovered from her gift, but the tiredness that overtook her members was also caused by the irony of what was about to happen.

"Lady of Sorrow guides us," Shadowheart whispered to herself. Instead of trying to make people guess who she's about to gift, Shadowheart just threw the box onto Lae'zel's lap. "There is no reason for me to delay this torture even more."

"Chk. Oh. This seems like it's you fate to deal with me." Lae'zel opened the box with one of her daggers. "Let's see if I will thank you, follower of Shar."

Inside the box, Lae'zel found several instruments for improving weapons. How she hated liking the gift. Lae'zel would like to do like Wyll and burn everything just to embarrass Shadowheart, but she couldn't damage such well-made instruments.

"Well done, cleric," Lae'zel hissed.

Lae'zel knew that her gift was the best, but there was a possibility that she did not thought about: maybe she had got the gift she would like to receive. Either way, it would be worth it.

"I share the cleric's interest for no unecessary fuss," Lae'zel was quickly to say. "Bear, I hope you enjoy this."

She handed over the box and walked away before Halsin could think about hugging her. Halsin undid the knot that kept the box closed, and everyone gasped at the sight of his gift.

You looked at Lae'zel. "How did you... Did you keep it all this time? How did you preserve it?"

In the glass above Halsin's hands was Minthara's head.

"You truly are..." Halsin sighed. He didn't knew what to say. "Civilized."

Before Halsin could recover, Gale approached the druid.

Unable to say anything, Halsin handed him the package. Gale didn't care, he just wanted to know what he had won. His smile didn't last a lot.

"Boots, Halsin?" He yelled. "Very mature of you. Very mature."

Wyll laughed at last.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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baby-jaguar · 6 months

Text

CoD Western AU and Mail Order Spouse Trope

Howdy!

Welcome to my version of a Wild West AU & Mail-Order Spouse Trope. Introduction of the reader scenario will be down below and a little digital art will be added in to show our lovely options of spouses. This is Gender Neutral.

This was my first Au and trope project I’ve worked on. While I learn and decide how I want to upload this, I hope everyone enjoys or just gets a kick out of this!

Introduction & Backstory

Your life wasn’t awful, per se, but sometimes you wonder if you say that to yourself to cope with what you’ve been through. Simply put, you were your family's breadwinner, caretaker, and damage controller. You were poor-ish, where you had to use scraps of fabrics to make your clothes, but yet your father could always afford a bottle to be in his hand, and your mother out on the porch smoking whatever she needed that day to cope and try to be a mom and wife.

Coat of many colors indeed.

You worked, and you have worked from a young age to continuously support your family as you didn't have a choice if you wanted to keep the roof over your head. Although, you were thankful that your mother was adamant you went to the schoolhouse and got at least a good amount of education.

After attending school for a few years until puberty, you were in the working class; your job as a domestic servant included the taste of farmhand, tailoring, and working to cann fruits that were grown on the farm. After a long shift on the warm and humid spring day, you walked back home to hear your father yelling as usual but stopped when you heard your name being spoken.

“As soon as we sell that damn nuisance, we’ll be rolling in dough. I can’t believe that damn bastard politician wants our kin. Said once he’s back from his campaign up north he’ll come meet ‘em.” He laughs before taking another swig of his drink, your mother laughing along with him as she has a lit pipe in the house for the first time in a long time.

Now, you to truly understand the depravity of this; the seriousness of her celebrating with a lit drug inside the house.

Your stomach drops, nausea rolling over you at the thought of them selling you off to the old and decrepit wealthy politician for marriage to get money. Money that they’ll blow through, having never learned to control their vices turned addictions.

A cold sweat breaks out on you as you swallow down the urge to expel the minimal amount of food in your worn-out body, and promptly turn around and walk back into town.

Walking the dark streets, you navigate quietly and hide behind the shadows of the night with only a few dimly lit light posts flickering their oil flame light. While walking the edge of the closed shops, you see a dirty newspaper thrown on the ground and almost step over it until a small headline catches your eye.

“FRONTIER MEN, LOOKING FOR CAPABLE SPOUSE”

Your eyes scan quickly over the matrimony company advertising for men located in the frontier lands, each searching for promising spouses and wanting to marry soon. You read over the information, seeing that the listed men below are located in newly booming towns out west, a few even located in mining towns or having their own company.

Your body zings with a chill of adrenaline at the thought of diving head first into chance and change, but you knew something much better could be awaiting you…

Should you do it?

looking around, the humid and small town looks back at you as you enter a hardened state of mind; What would become if you stayed here? The disgusting politician's new toy just to break? Your parents are already planning on how to drain their funds dry within a month of letting their addictions take over? You don't have friends, your boss is the closest thing to one just because you spend hours each and every day working.

Yeah.

You're gonna fucking do it.

Taking a seat, your eyes quickly scan down the page of advertisements, looking over the small blurbs of descriptions offered. The correspondence cost would be 10 cents, meaning you have one chance to get his attention and get the new life you need.

Simon Riley Biography, Meeting Simon,

John Price Biography, Meeting John

Kyle Garrick Biography, Meeting Kyle

John MacTavish Biography, Meeting Johnny

Phillip Graves Biography, Meeting Phillip

Alejandro Vargas Biography, Meeting Alejandro

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clazaries · 11 days

Text

The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.”

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?”

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.”

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do.

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order.

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful.

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I’m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.”

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best.

“Stay sharp.”

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it.

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests.

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military.

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.”

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.”

“Then why isn’t he out?”

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.”

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm.

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?”

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.”

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…”

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.”

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.”

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume.

“Why the fuck are we here then?”

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.”

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--”

“Frankie! Do you copy?”

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup?

“He needs help!”

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?”

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage.

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!”

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle.

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--”

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.”

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos.

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.”

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago.

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself.

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud.

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?”

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?”

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.”

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?”

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily.

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.”

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge.

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece.

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?”

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.”

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?”

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots.

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him.

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers.

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised.

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot.

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--”

“No! No, I-I want to stay.”

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.”

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.”

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.”

“How?”

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?”

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him.

Your thighs press together beneath the table.

“Yes.”

“Yes…what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t lie.”

“A…A little, sir.”

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.”

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It’s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had.

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.”

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you.

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified.

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer.

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?”

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily.

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating.

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority.

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead…“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit.

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt.

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in.

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.”

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum.

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.”

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter.

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…”

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off.

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens.

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself.

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts.

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.”

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?”

“No, but--”

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.”

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close.

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes.

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him.

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.”

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.”

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise.

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway.

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.”

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior.

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries.

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years.

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you.

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly.

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point.

You sigh. “I know.”

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.”

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—”

This again. “But Frankie--”

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.”

“But I didn’t die.”

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.”

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that.

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.”

“I promise.”

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.”

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.”

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.”

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illusivelle · 9 months

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shake the frost / 1

pairing: william 'ironhead' miller x female reader rating: t (for now) length: 2,140 words content: established relationship with the triple frontier boys, drinking, light pining summary: you've always held a small spark for will and tonight is the first time you realize he might be looking at you in the same light, with a promise of something more. a/n: been a long time since i put something out there so please be gentle, but figured why not, especially if the idea's been rotting in my brain. not edited or proofread, will likely be one part of a series (that will gradually become nsfw surely). mostly just taking it as i go, but hoping you enjoy! thanks for reading. link to ao3 here!

You’ve known Frankie for most of your life, a constant presence akin to a brother. You’ve witnessed him transform from a once fun-loving guy into a steely, quiet one. Still outgoing, still willing to go to bat for his friends – just different. Different in ways you couldn’t begin to understand when you were younger and couldn’t bear to think about it now that you knew. Not that you would ever know it all, but it was easy enough to grasp the change war brings around, especially to someone you long considered family.

But it was nights like tonight that made everything feel normal, you and Frankie playing rounds of pool and betting on rounds of drinks. You finally had a string of days off from work and as soon as you got the text from Frankie to join him and his buddies at the bar, it was hard to find an excuse to say no. Not when he’d been hiding out for a while, not after everything that happened with one of his closest friends. You wished you could’ve been there for him but Frankie didn’t let you, but he was inviting you out now and you’d be foolish to miss the chance again.

“Pay up, pilot.” You settle a hand on your hip, a waiting palm out in his direction. Frankie had that shit-eating grin while he shook his head at you, his hand sliding into his pocket when the bell chimed above the door and a loud laugh echoed through the dim space.

“Oh-ho-ho!” Your head jerks to find Frankie’s friend stride in, first the tall one you remember as Benny. He’d been the fighter you stitched up some time ago when Frankie called you over for help. Trailing closely behind him is a blonde, that one with striking blue eyes you couldn’t seem to look away from when you first met, while you were tending to his brother’s wounds. Will, he’d introduced himself then. A name you found hard to wipe from your mind, a face you found hard to look away from as his gaze connects with yours. You suck in a deep breath like that might help ground you but what actually does is the way Benny’s frame cuts into your line of sight, suddenly feet in front of you. “If it isn’t Doctor Shortcake.”

You cast your eyes up at him with a shake of your head, one because you weren’t a doctor, and two because “just my name is fine. You do know it, don’t you, Benny?” You’ve never been fond of pet names or nicknames and you weren’t about to be now, not even with the low drawl of Benny’s voice. He doesn’t say anything, just walks to the bar with his hands shoved into his pocket whistling a tune. It’s then you register Santiago is here, too, as he’s pulling you into a side hug and calling you mija. A term of endearment you’d let slide if only because you saw Santiago as more of a parental figure than you ever did Frankie.

But the one you’re really waiting to talk to is leaning against the edge of the pool table, his arms crossed against his chest as he talks with Frankie. His voice draws you in, your eyes landing on his mouth before they drift up to those powder blues. Ones that were looking right at you, heat crawling up your cheeks. “Hi.” You murmur and take a step toward him. Maybe it would be better to lean into it than to pretend he hadn’t just caught you staring at his lips.

“Hi.” The faintest smile hangs from his mouth while his gaze lingers on yours. “It’s been a while.”

A while was an understatement. You’d first met Will, and the rest of the guys, what felt like years ago. You were as much of a fixture in Frankie’s life as they were in his, but it was always either you and Frankie, or you tagging along with Frankie and the guys. You never had a moment alone with any of them, and certainly never with Will no matter how often you might’ve thought about it. Instead, the two of you stole fleeting glances, exchanged small smiles, the occasional conversation here and there but never about anything too personal – and never for too long. Frankie didn’t say much about it, just a sordid reminder one of the first times he noticed you eyeing Will for too long that the captain kept almost everyone at arm’s length and to not get your hopes up.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t… look, right? Besides, you’re far too shy to try to make any kind of move, especially on a guy like Will Miller. Quiet, stoic, hard to read. Everytime you were around him, even just the feel of his sea of blues on you made your skin prickle, the depths in those eyes something you could get lost in. Every wash of blue something you might see in the ocean. Something you could drown in.

“Beating Frankie at pool?” His words cut into your thoughts.

“Oh, I was–” you chuckle softly, chin tucking into your chest bashfully, “I was, yeah, but he doesn’t wanna pay up.”

“Let’s play. I’ll double it.”

What? You blink up in near surprise but your head tilts with slight intrigue. “You sure? I’m pretty good…”

This pulls a gentle laugh from him and you can’t help your smile. You’ll replay that sound tonight, you’re sure, until the next time you could hopefully draw it out of him again. “Yeah. Frankie’s gonna go broke, so I’ll bail him out this time.”

At this, Frankie snorts, claps Will’s shoulder and mentions that he’s off to the bar to grab some drinks. Benny is still there, Santiago chatting him up, and it leaves you and Will alone – for the first time. Sure, there’s the energy of the other patrons and the giant pool table in between you, but they all seem to blur the second he’s offering you one of the pool cues. It��s barely a graze of his fingertips but it’s enough of a touch to reel you in. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” There’s not a drip of a threat in your tone, light and teasing to accompany the warm flush sprawling over your face.

It was something you couldn’t hide, either, not even with your hair falling against your temple. You knew Will would see it, knew he was entirely too observant to miss a beat. Maybe he was already counting all the ways he made you blush, and why were you so curious to know how he felt about that?

“Let’s see what you got.” He’s already set up the balls, gesturing for you to break.

For as shy as you were, there were always a couple of scenarios where you were braver than usual. One, at work. Helping others came naturally to you, something you studied long and hard for. It wasn’t that you were turning your brain off, but in a weird way, it felt like that – a sort of routine that came easy. The second was times like now. A little competition always lit a spark in you, confidence growing with each drop of a ball in a pocket or each round of poker you won. It helped that guys like Frankie were always so appalled and confused when you’d win, thinking they had the upper hand. And wasn’t it just so much more fun to surprise people that way?

You break clean, sinking a solid colour in a pocket, turning to Will with the corner of your lip tugging up into half a smirk. “That makes you stripes.” You say as you move around him, leaning forward on the table to line up your next shot, but Will is quick to shift his body to face you. It’s almost unnerving and your grip on the stick loosens a little, or maybe your palm’s just become damp from the nerves. Why were you nervous? It was just Will. A friend of Frankie’s. It was just pool. A game you’ve played too many times to count. Just another guy, just another game.

“You okay?” He chimes and for a second, you swore he wasn’t teasing. Swore that you could hear that underlying concern in his tone.

You flash your eyes up at him, a light crinkle at the corners. “Good. Thanks.” Then you turn your attention back to the game and sink another ball.

You’re good – but Will is, too. You should be frustrated every time a striped ball makes it in but you’re finding this thrilling, someone who could challenge you, innocent as your interactions were. Even when you were looking at each other from across the table, it felt like a small exchange. One final ball for the both of you, but it’s your turn, your chance to end the game. “You sure you said double?” You breathe out, glancing up at Will from where you’re folded over, pool cue aimed at the white ball.

“I’m sure.” He’s propped up against the back of a bar stool now, beer in hand, the boys scattered about having their own conversations. Benny pipes in at the perfect time to taunt his brother and if Will even hears him, he doesn’t show it – his blue eyes strictly on you. Taunting you in silence, instead.

Another deep breath, one you let out slowly as the end of the stick hits the edge of the white ball, rolling and rolling until it knocks into a coloured one. But you don’t pay it any mind, not quite caring whether or not it went in because you’re daring a glance up at Will… and he’s still looking at you. A few beats pass before you hear a loud smack on a table, “she got you good, man!” Benny clutching onto his brother’s shoulders, shaking it almost violently.

You roll your lips in between your teeth to hide a coy smile, but it’s obvious the way a blush steals across your cheeks. Will manages to escape Benny’s hold, slow and steady strides until he’s finally standing in front of you, one hand wrapped around the cue he’s holding and the other digging into his pocket. “Why don’t we–” you nod to his hand, the one that’s about to procure your prize, “have a rematch sometime? Triple or nothing.”

“Oooooh boy, that confidence is unmatched.” Benny laughs.

You lift a shoulder in a faint shrug, “just a thought,” though really it’s more of an excuse for you to maybe see Will again without the company of the others. You told yourself before you wouldn’t make any moves, but this wasn’t one, right? It was hardly forward. Just about the game. When your gaze darts to Frankie, however, his expression tells you he knows exactly what you might be up to, even if you don’t know it yourself.

“Sometime?” Will asks. “Why not tonight?”

“Because I should probably get going.”

“Do you need a ride?”

The question stuns you for a moment before you’re shaking your head. “No, it’s okay. You stay, you guys just got here.”

“You sure?”

“I’m…” not sure that you don’t want to take his offer, but not sure that you’d be able to handle any more time alone with Will, “sure.”

Will’s mouth twists in something you can’t discern. He’s got so many different emotions that play out across his face, some you’ve noticed over the times you’ve seen each other, though many you see for the first time when they play out – and sometimes, never again. This was new. After a pause, he finally nods. “Okay. A rematch next time, then.”

You’re quick to say your goodbyes to the boys, and once you get to Will, you find yourself fidgeting with your knuckles. “See you next time, then.” You echo his earlier sentiment, brushing a tendril behind your ear before you spin on a heel to make it to the door. One foot in front of the other – it’s the only thing you can focus on, else you might find your mind fluttering to thoughts of the blonde haired blue eyed captain.

And you don’t know why you do it but you steal a look over your shoulder and find those exact blue eyes locking with yours, Will resting against the bar’s patio, taking a swig of his drink. It was as if you felt his gaze on you, or maybe he felt the way you were thinking of him. Either way, you throw him a timid smile before you’re disappearing around the corner. Thoughts of Will Miller the entire walk home, the entire time you undress and slide into bed, the entire time your eyes are closed.

#william ironhead miller #william miller #will miller #william miller x reader #william miller x you #will miller x reader #will miller x you #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam fic

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fangsyouverymuch01 · 4 months

Text

If walls could talk

This is part 2 of my series. You don't have to have read the first part to get into pt 2, butttt I would appreciate it! :) Part 1 LINK.

Part 3 is also out! Here is the LINK.

Summery: Tav is fighting against their dark thoughts and decides to do something about it. However, what other bloodthirsty killer lurks in the dark forest?

Words: 2,2 k

Parings: Astarion x durge, Astarion x tav

Warnings: Blood, dark fantasies/nightmares, daggers, smut if you squint???, murder, sleep deprivation, sassy vampire

Hope you like it! <3

Moonlight marks the end of the day, painting the swaying leafs a faint blue. The cracklings of the fire and the laughter from your newfound companions warms the cool night. You’ve managed to gather a party of the gith - Laezel, the blade of frontiers - Wyll, Karlach - a fighter from avernus, Gale - Mystras former chosen, sharworshipper - Shadowheart and lastly the pale rouge Astarion. Quite the mix to say at least.

Everyone’s laughter is mixed with the occasional slurping. Gale had insisted on making a traditional potato and leek soup which was appreciated by some, others like Astarion had barely touched it.

“You’re not hungry Astarion?” Karlach asked as she gulped down her second bowl of soup.

“I prefer something more filling.” he stated and shot you a quick glance before adding “ Besides, the events of today have me thinking of other things than leek soup.” .

You nearly choke at his comment and retort by gluing your eyes to the bowl in your hands.

“No offense taken my friend, however you are missing out on this delightful soup, the leeks are scarcely this fresh in Waterdeep.”

The party hums in approval and the conversation falls into a stillness, only the occasional breaking of twigs and swaying trees break the silence. Soon enough, the moon reaches its peak and everyone zips up their tents for the night. Your tent contains a simple bedroll and a teddy bear Karlach had lended you after observing your dark under eyes worsening the past days. Sleep had not found you , thoughts of life before the crash kept sleep from embracing your tired form. The others abilities had been wiped from the tadpole insertion but their memories stayed intact, why hadn’t yours? Questions filled your cortex, gaining a disturbing wriggling from the worm trapped within your skull. Adding to your concern, were your trances. Unbeknownst to your companions, these trances haunted you far more than sleep deprivation. Blood, gore, torture, murder and a variety of dark fantasies threatened to consume you.

What will happen if you lost control?

This night differed from the others, the lack of sleep seemed to affect your willpower and fantasies of butchering foe and friend displayed themselves as your eyelids felt heavier. Cradling the stuffed animal, your eyelids dip and curl your legs against the lower of your abdomen. Snoring and faint breaths cushion your tilted ears, guiding you to enter the embrace of night. The occasional stir flings your eyes open but the blue light signals them to close yet again.

Flashes of Shadowheart and Karlach pass by, them withstanding to burst into laughter as you awkwardly shift to fit the very large lute in your lap. Alfira bombards your efforts with words of encouragement, unsuccessfully pulling you from glancing at Shadowheart and Karlach doubled over in the corner, tears forming in the half elf’s eyes and the tiefling biting her lip as she pushes down a rumbling laugh. Exhaling to calm yourself, you pull at the strings and an array of tunes and random noises are produced. A terrible tune, a tune so foul that your ears fold to lessen the eardrum to vibrate at every tone crushing against it. Stealing a glance at your companions, an image of a headless Karlach strikes. Twisting your neck towards Alfira, she’s holding her heaving chest and pouring into her lap is a waterfall of thick blood. The once joyous ambiance twists into a macabre dreamscape. Shadowheart and Karlach's previous laughter warps into haunting echoes, and Alfira's encouragement morphs into desperate pleas though her gurgling. Your fingers tremble on the lute, producing dissonant, nightmarish sounds that echo the chaos. As you steal glances at your companions, Shadowhearts face contort into grotesque expressions of agony. The nightmare's grip tightens, effectively suffocating you.

“What did you do?” Shadowheart whispers, hands lacing with the hem of your trousers by your feet, the essence of life a ghost on her lips.

Wake up. Wake up!

You need to stay awake.

You can’t and you won’t let this control you.

Panting, your person rises from the bedroll. Your heart drums against the sternum of your ribcage and you swear, the sound of cracking bones bounces off the taupe tent walls. Tears pour as the floodgates to your tear duct opens. It was all so much, overbearing guilt tightens its snare and breathing burdens your lungs. Tossing the sweat drenched stuffed bear, you unzip a backpack in the corner of the tent. In the backpack lies a crossbow you picked up from the battle outside the groove, a battle your then more modest party barely withstood. Pulling it out you prepare to head out into the night. Perhaps your thoughts could not be controlled but you did have a choice in what was at the receiving end of your brutal fantasies. Puffing out a breath of air, your rise and glare at the dark sky. The cloud-free night unveils moonbeams and stars twinkling in the vast expanse, inviting contemplation.

“Please let this work.” you plead with the moon.

The camp is positively silent, making your chance to slip into the shadows significantly increase. Carefully, you tread past Gales and Astarions tents. To your surprise, Astarions tent is slightly unzipped. Was he also facing the restless night? Or was he out causing mischief at night as well? Having no time to ponder the alternatives, you make way towards the dark forest.

The night has the once calm and inviting nature evoking a sense of adrenaline - what hid in its shadows? The ballad of birds and paws of gentler creatures had slumped with the rise of the moon, leaving behind a hushed stillness that amplifies the rustle of leaves and distant whispers of the nocturnal world. As the cool breeze carries the fragrance of earth, the night becomes a stage for the mysterious and unseen, where the darkness holds both the thrill of the unknown and the comfort of needed solitude. A twig is snapped further down the unknown woods, sending a subtle tremor through the air. Instinctively, you froze. Your gaze narrowed, senses guiding your body to scan for any signs of movement. Amidst the rustling leaves, a fleeting silhouette hides behind the vegetation —a prey

Salvation by the blade! Salvation by the blade! Salvation by the blade! Salvation by the blade!

It demands to be heard. Clutching your soul, clawing at your cortex to take a shot at the unknowing creature behind the protecting leafs. A feverish sweat trickles down your temples as you aim the crossbow. Narrowing your eyes, the moon casts an eerie glow as your prey skillfully drains the life force from another unsuspecting creature.

Pointy ears, white curls - Astarion?

No. No, it can’t be.

Descending into the trance, your body remains unfazed to the revelation before your eyes. Astarion is crouching over a boar, blood from its guts spilling over his leather beeches and obscene guttural noises escapes the elf’s lips.

Did he have the same affliction as you?

When fighting to regain clarity fully, his keen ears catch a hint of movement in your direction. Swift as a shadow, he hurtles toward the foliage, forcefully pushing you onto the plush grass. With a thud you hit the ground. His dagger assertively rests at your throat and the other hand restraints yours from countering his initiative. His face, smeared with blood, reveals menacingly sharp teeth, droplets cascading onto your lips. The metallic taste mutes the voices in your mind, and as clarity dawns, you realize it may be a moment too late to salvage the situation.

“Trying to sneak up on a rouge now are we?” The elf snarls.

“Astarion wait I didn’t know-“ you ramble as you try to regain your full clarity.

The elf’s jaw tenses as if juggling his options.

“Are we the same you and I?” You ask unwillingly, being careful not to move under his sharp blade.

“Darling, you and I are nothing alike. I’d never make the questionable decision to aim my bow at a fellow and trusted companion ” Astarion answers and leans towards your face, persistently persevering eye contact with you.

At that, Astarion pushes his dagger further into your jugular vein, earning him a disapproving growl. He’s straddling you with his full weight pressing you down, there is no escaping except from your sharp tongue.

“I never meant to hurt you, it’s just-“ you stop, contemplating how to explain your condition to the irritated bloodstained elf before you. “I dream in red, I’ve not slept for days in hopes it would go away to no avail, so I came out here to kill some worthless boar or rabbit in hopes it would ease my fantasies.” You confess in one breath.

There it was, the truth of it all and now it was up to him to decide.

Astarion investigates your features as if trying to detect any dishonesty, face still covered in blood running down his neck, spilling under the front lacing of his shirt. What starts as a chuckle turns into a manic laughter from the elf’s lips. On display are his teeth again.

Fangs. A vampire.

“I won’t tell the others, just let me go.“ you begin as panic rises from your chest.

“How delightful, a maniac with a dark urge and a starved vampire. A fruitful pair don’t you think?” He smirks as his eyes grow dark, a deep crimson boring into yours.

“Fruitful?” you question as he narrows the inches between your faces.

“Darling, your urges have you adrenaline pumping and mine keep me far from alert, we could perhaps come to an arrangement for our predicaments..”

Oh.

His push on your jugular vein softens and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“You give me a taste of your delectable blood and your reward leaves you from acting on these dirty thoughts of yours. “

His sultry voice entwines with your senses, warm and enticing as it beckons you to accept his proposition. On a logical level, he presents a solution to your predicament. Yet, it's hard to ignore the stark reality—this man, soaked in blood, recently grappled you to the ground and still pushes a dagger menacingly against your throat.

“Not a drop too much, I still need to be able to fight when the sun rises.” you squeeze out, hiding your blush at the position in which he held you, restraining you from squirming and hiding.

“I’ll restrict my urges as long as you do too darling”

Gods.

Astarions lashes flutter against your cheek, traveling along the curve of your neck and sharply inhales near your jaw. The dagger in his grasp is speedily pocketed into his holster, hand now reaching to angel your head in the perfect position.

“Very good” he coos.

Heat grows between your thighs as his legs squeeze the sides of your hips and chest pressed against yours makes your breath hitch in response. You want to indulge in every part of him but at the same time you are at his mercy. He was dealt a hand where destiny, hope and trust entirely was up to him.

“Give in, embrace the truth of the blade.” the voice licked into your other ear, tongue slithering further in.

“Astarion please get it over with, I-“ you stutter as the trance flits back into your limbs, nails reaching to tear themselves from his grip. “I’m losing myself…please”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. The rouge skillfully bundles your restraint from pulling away from his sharp teeth. Licking the area to prepare for his bite, he plants a kiss before puncturing into your pumping jugular vein. The pain is sharp at first, urging your mouth to let out a gasp. Seconds pass and with time leavs the pain and is traded for an electrifying jolt that sends shivers through your body. Warmth, pleasure, joy, arousal and at last - nothingness. The kiss of stillness lures before you and only Astarions licking pierced through the vacuum-like atmosphere. His head bobs up and down, curls cushioning your tilted jaw.

“Astarion?”

The rouge stiffens as your words cleave through his own blood frenzy. His licking is replaced by fluttering kisses, sending jolts of warmth to spread between your legs. Your once bundled hands are now also intertwined with his, the other tangled in your hair. The elf slightly pulls your hair, earning him a muffled moan as you bite down to contain your racing thoughts. As your head spins in bliss, Astarion prowls to catch your disoriented eyes with his pupil-blown ones. The vampire is positively delighted, a genuine smile creeping up as he loosened his grip on your hand.

“ You are truly delicious my dear.” the euphoric man softly speaks, licking his lips.

“I’m glad to be proven a filling snack.” you say through half-closed eyes.

Astarion must’ve noticed your delirium and furrows his brow in response.

“Are you quite alright?”

“Yes of course, why wouldn’t I?” you whisper and give him a genuine smile.

You glance at him with fully opened eyes, taking in the sight before you.

Trying uncipher your progressively clouded thoughts you mumble “You are very pretty Astarion”.

In the moonlit silence the rest of your conversation turns into a blur. The last image to flash by is a trembling hand that sought your pulse, any sign of life.

“Don’t you dare die on me.”

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mooshywrites · 3 months

Note

Okay, so Wyll is very much the prince charming type, so hear me out: him romancing a Tav with equally strong princely energy. Turns into some weird competition where both are trying to out-gentleman each other. (The other companions get greatly annoyed by this when they spend ten minutes standing next to a door trying to insist they be the one to hold the door for the other lmao)

Ever the Gentleman

Gn!Reader x Wyll

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A/N - Oh this is ‘love is war’ vibes for sure

Warnings - a lil silly, a lil goofy

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Today would be different. Today, you would not lose. Not against him.

Both you and Wyll had been locked in a furious battle for weeks now. It had started off innocently enough, simple gestures of genuine politeness.

It was hard not to admit that you prided yourself on chivalry, used to being the most courteous person in any group. Most of it came naturally, but you also couldn’t help playing up the princely act now and again.

You had offered to pour him a glass of wine at the end of the night, only for him to brush off the invitation. With a flourish, he poured you both a glass, even having the decency to give up his cushion for you to sit upon.

It didn’t raise any cause for concern within you, just yet. After all, The Blade of Frontiers was simply doing a small favor. If it had ended there, that is.

No, however, it didn’t just end there. After that, you noticed the little gestures everywhere. How Wyll refused to let you be the one to go through the trouble of making a campfire, how he insisted on carrying your heavy purchases back to the camp, how he’d jump at the opportunity to help you out of the armor at the end of the day.

The final blow hit you when you offered to help him with his own armor. Wyll gave you the warm, charming smile he always did when he decided to be extra polite.

“Oh, I couldn’t let such a pretty face go out of their way for someone like me.” He assured.

Flames rose in your chest as you stared back at him, the realization finally dawning on you.

This little devil is trying to out gentleman you.

After that, it was an all out war. You made a show of being the most chivalrous person anyone could ever hope to be. You refilled his glass as soon as it was half empty, you offered a hand to Wyll when there was the slightest of inclines, you insisted on checking every new area for traps lest the warlock hurt himself.

It seemed to take a few days for Wyll to catch on to what you were doing. Instead of calling attention to your obviously petty behavior, he only raised the stakes higher.

He insisted on paying for everything, treating you and your companions to the best food Wyrm’s Crossing had to offer. He took care of a majority of the laundry, sneaking away when you weren’t looking to scrub the blood out of your favorite tunic. Gods forbid there was so much of a puddle in your path, because if Wyll saw it, his cape would be over it in a split second. The action ensuring that you would never have a muddy boot ever again.

But not today. No, he wouldn’t win today.

You had a full proof plan for the ultimate gentlemanly act. When you entered the tavern today, you would be the one to hold the door open. Not Wyll.

You practically ran to the door when it was in sight, holding it open for your companions proudly. Wyll stood in front of the group, poised to be the first one to enter.

“Don’t trouble yourself, I’d be happy to hold that for you.” Wyll grinned, reaching for the handle of the door.

You fought the urge to smack his hand away.

“Not a trouble at all, after you.” You retorted, giving the most assured smile you could manage.

“Oh, but I insist!” Wyll replied, placing his hand on the space above yours.

“No, I insist.” You gritted out, your smile strained.

”Surely you don’t expect me to let such a treasure hold open a door for that long.” He bit back, his own smile coming across as more sly by the minute.

“Surely, I do.” You narrowed your eyes, your grin still plastered across your features.

“Gods above, I’ll happily go first.” Astarion quipped, sliding past the two of you and heading into the tavern

The rest of your companions followed suit, ignoring the intense battle of eye contact you and Wyll were trapped in.

“I won’t let you win this.” You huffed under your breath.

“I think that you will, in the end.” Wyll smiled before widening the door, making you lose your grip on the wooden handle.

You glared at him, already scheming for the next battle of wits.

“You may have won the battle, Blade. But you will not win the war.” You seethed.

Wyll had the grace to not argue back, only rising your temperatures higher. Instead, he bowed slightly, gesturing an arm out into the tavern.

“After you, please.” He looked up for a moment, winking at you.

“I insist.”

#wyll #wyll x reader #blurb #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 blurb #wyll blurb #baldurs gate 3 wyll #bg3 #bg3 wyll #wyll fluff #wyll ravenguard x reader #wyll ravengard #baldurs gate wyll #wyll x tav #wyll romance

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constellationandcompendium · 4 months

Text

Writeblr Intro

Greetings traveller!

About Me:

She/her approaching 30

PhD graduate working in heritage

British (obsessed with tea)

Also sings and crochets

Enjoys both Star Trek & Star Wars

Occasional NaNoWriMo participant

Fanfic writer of 15 years making the jump into original fiction (find my fandom blog @thetamehistorian)

Happy to take asks / play tag games etc.

Has a habit of designing covers rather than writing

Second attempt at this blog (main blog this time, cha cha real smooth)

Tends To Write / Read

Sci-Fi & Cyberpunk

Urban Fantasy & Fantasy

Historical

Comedy (this suprised me too)

Introducing My WIPS

A crime thriller with a touch of cyberpunk...

Featuring

Man with habit of doing wrong thing for right reason

Best buds to reluctant allies to ‘I would die for you’

That ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this’ meme

Conspiracies and double agents

Lots of angst and hurt (with some comfort)

Wholesome parent / child relationships

Summary

Solaris City has a problem. Whilst the metropolis flourishes, down below in the old mines the Undercity grows wild and dangerous, it’s people cut off from the prosperity above, dreaming of the sun and spreading Haze - an addictive drug.

Elias also has a problem. Working for the Bureau has cleaned his slate but he hasn’t cut all ties with those underground. Now there’s a girl hidden in his flat and something big has been uncovered that has his contacts in a flurry.

With two days to go to a vote on unifying the two halves of the city, and his friend Sebastien caught right in the middle, Elias has a feeling that it'll only take one domino falling for everything to come crashing down.

WIP Tag

First Draft Complete, If Messy (Mind the Plot Holes)

A sci-fi comedy of a ship of misfits...

Featuring

Puns for ship names (and just bad jokes in general)

Captain packing up the ship and all its crew because they can no longer thrive in this household

Overly social parents (please stop inviting my professor over to dinner)

Space worker unions (and aliens)

Learning self-worth and finding strength through working together

Found family

Summary

The United Earth Ship Archimedes patrols the border of charted space. Beyond it - the vast and unexplored reaches of the universe.

It’s an exciting prospect for Aster Kobor, newly graduated from the fleet academy and hoping to make her mark upon the stars. Unfortunately, it only takes a few weeks for Aster to realise that the Archimedes is nicknamed ‘the screw’ for a reason. It’s a ship for the rejects and misfits, those deemed unfit to serve in the frontier ships and command never lets them do anything exciting. Still, Aster is determined to make the best of it and, unbeknownst to her, her meddling Captain is about to give the crew of the Archimedes their chance to show command what they're made of.

Soon a bad reputation is the least of their troubles and, whether the crew like it or not, they’ll have to learn to survive in deep space - where their only certainty is each other.

WIP Tag

Currently Wrangling Vibes Into ~ Characters ~ and ~ Plot ~

A historical novel about determined women, trains, and winning a war…

Featuring

One woman’s obsession with the railways

Code breaking commuters

Breakfasts cooked on a coal shovel

Being accidentally adopted by an elderly fireman and driver duo

Occasional air raid for added ~spice~

Solidarity in the face of adversity and outdated systems

Summary

Bea had always been fascinated by the railways, but her dream of driving one of the locomotives always seemed out of reach. Working the trains is dangerous, dirty, and completely off limits to the fairer sex.

Then the war came and the men went off the fight. Answering the call to help, Bea and her fellow railway volunteers find themselves with an opportunity of a lifetime. Obscured from judging eyes by steam and smoke they shadow the veteran drivers and engineers, learning what they can on the job and hitting the library when they can't.

The trains need to run, they are vital to the war effort. All it would take is one rogue bomb, one mishap to take out a driver and the wheels stop spinning.

Or at least, that's what the station manager thinks.

Currently Doing Research and Initial Planning!

#introductions #wips #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr intro #writeblr introduction #writer

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blueraineshadows · 10 months

Text

Three Lions On A Bed

You asked, I listened, and now I give you...😁

Garreth Weasley x F!MC x Leander Prewett

Absolutely NSFW 🔞 🌶🔥 Go, Go, Gryffindor!

In a few days she was off to America. The country with big skies, frontier towns and miles of potential for exploring Ancient Magic deposits. The adventurous spirit in her couldn't wait. The loyal, soft heart of her was aching at the thought that she would be leaving people she cared about behind.

She was in London, staying with Garreth for a few days before setting off, saying her goodbyes to old friends. She sat on the floor of his apartment, a glass of firewhiskey in her hand, the hour late. The few friends who had come round for dinner and drinks had left, except for Leander.

The pair of them, Garreth and Leander, were sitting on his settee, laughing, reminiscing about some funny incident or other. The bottle of firewhiskey on the coffee table was getting rather low, and she expected they would be calling it a night real soon.

A pang went through her as she looked at those two men. Her two favourites. They had been as thick as thieves at Hogwarts, three mischievous Gryffindors, sticking together through everything. She loved them both.

There had been moments with both of them over the years when the possibility of becoming more than friends had presented itself. But nothing had ever come of it, none of them wanting to hurt the others. Nobody wanted anyone to be left out, so they had stuck as friends.

It had always been the three of them. Even this evening, everyone else had gone, but it was them three that were left. She would never be able to choose a favourite, they both were very dear to her, and now she was leaving them.

"I hope you realise that the hardest part about going to America, is leaving the two of you," she said. They both looked at her. "I'm going to really fucking miss you both."

Garreth slid the whiskey bottle along the table away from her. "No more for you, MC," he smirked. "You're getting all sentimental on us."

She sat up straight. "Aren't you going to miss me?"

Garreth's eyes immediately turned soft. "Of course."

He was beautiful. From his unruly red hair, to his cheeky green eyes, she loved every freckle on his handsome face. He was daft, chaotic, but his heart was made of gold. He would do anything for her, she knew that.

"We will both miss you, MC," Leander said. "It won't be the same without you around, but we understand why you have to go."

Leander. Tall, handsome, smart, a bit sensitive and over compensates sometimes to try and prove himself, but his loyalty, and his generous spirit made for a most trustworthy companion. He knew her deepest secrets and kept every one of them.

Nope. She would never be able to choose one.

She got up from the floor and moved to sit on the settee between them, squeezing herself into the gap and holding an arm out to each of them. Knowing she wouldn't see them for a long time was making her ache for closeness. "Bring it in, I need a ginger sandwich hug," she said.

"A what?" Leander laughed.

Garreth laughed too but wrapped his arms around her, he waved Leander to come closer. "Come on, mate."

MC closed her eyes and savoured the feel of them both as Leander wrapped his arms around her and Garreth. She was safely snug between the two of them. It felt perfect. She felt safe. Loved.

As Leander began to pull back, she grabbed his sleeve to stop him. "No, don't," she said. "Don't let go."

The words tumbled from her lips. Leander paused, eyes locking on hers. She swallowed and licked her lips, heat gathering at a rather alarming rate between her thighs. One of her hands fisted into the front of Garreth's shirt lest he try to pull back as well, and she gripped Leander's sleeve just as tight. She wasn't ready to let go.

Her eyes dropped to Leander's mouth. Gods, she wanted to kiss him. Her eyes moved back to meet his, and his pupils dilated, realisation making him suck in his breath swiftly.

The temptation was burning her up, her chest rising and falling rapidly at the positively sinful idea forming in her mind. She'd heard of it, one of her acquaintances was a whore, and she had heard many a lewd tale of group activities.

The both of them, both of her favourites, at the same time...

The very idea of both them touching her sent her mind spiralling down an intriguing hole of depravity. She throbbed at the thought, her thighs clenching as she imagined it. Unbidden, a moan slipped from her mouth and she writhed, her hips brushing up against the both of them because of the close proximity.

Leander's gaze flew to Garreth, redness blooming across his cheeks. As if in a trance she released Leander's sleeve and her thumb dragged slowly at his bottom lip, rolling it seductively. His breaths quickened, his throat working.

"Bloody hell," Garreth whispered.

The sound of his words, soft and amazed near her ear, made her look up at him. His green eyes were wide, unbelieving. "I can't choose," she confessed. "But I want you, both of you..."

Her words hung in the air in the tense, tight space between them. She had shocked them both, obviously, their eyes meeting over her head.

The hand she had fisted in Garreth's shirt moved up to grasp the back of his neck. "Please?" She begged. She turned her gaze on Leander, eyes pleading. "I want this."

Garreth spoke first, his voice slightly husky. "I...I guess we could...Lee?"

Leander was flustered. He ran his hand through his hair, looking between Garreth and MC. "Fuck..." He breathed. MC was still touching his face, she bit her lip and slid the tip of her thumb into his mouth and he immediately brushed his tongue against it. MC moaned and writhed again, arching her back a little at the throbbing ache between her thighs.

Leander's eyes darkened, his arousal a fire in his gaze. "Gods, alright," Leander groaned. "I'm in."

MC's sigh of relief was almost a whine and she grabbed Leander, her mouth hot and wet as she sucked his bottom lip, her tongue sliding eagerly over it and into his mouth for a hungry kiss.

She heard Garreth swear behind her, her heart already thumping hard at the thought of getting her hands on him next. Leander kissed her back, deeply, moaning into her mouth. She savoured the feel of his tongue, allowing the sweep of her desire to wash away any tiny lingering doubt.

When Leander's kiss moved to her jaw and then down to her throat, she moaned and let her head fall back, her eyes opening to look at Garreth. He was staring, mouth open, eyes dark. She grabbed his shirt, tugging him closer. "Kiss me," she begged.

His soft lips brushed hers, a tease, his tongue licking along her bottom lip. She panted and parted her lips, aching for a proper taste. As Garreth swirled his tongue into her mouth, Leander used his to suck hungrily at her neck.

MC thought she might melt into a puddle, arousal so sweet, so overwhelming scorched through her core. She moaned into Garreth's mouth and he kissed her harder. A hand cupped her breast, she had no idea who's, didn't care, she welcomed it.

And then Garreth moved to kiss and suck at the other side of her neck. She had one on each side. She squeezed her eyes closed, her voice a breathy moan. "Oh, gods, yes...more, more."

Fingers were tugging at the fastening on her trousers. A quick glance told her it was Leander, his long, slim fingers swift as he undid them and pulled them loose, his mouth still busy at her neck. He slid a hand in and down and she immediately widened her thighs for him.

He groaned as his finger tips delved through her very wet folds. "Bloody hell," he said. He slid his hand back out and took hold of Garreth's. "Mate, you have got to feel this..."

MC was breathless, eyes wide as she watched Leander guide Garreth's hand into her trousers. Both of their fingers a mixture of absolute obscenity as they dragged over her folds, exploring her arousal together.

Their eyes met, and Garreth smirked at his best friend, both of them appreciating the utter filth of this moment. Then they both turned their gaze on her. The intensity of their expressions, the feel of their fingers between her legs, had her face flushed, her breaths desperate. She wanted to tell them how good it felt, but words failed her.

One of them slid fingers into her entrance, sliding deep, while the tips of other fingers swirled over her clit. Her eyes rolled. Oh, fuuuuuck!

"I think she likes that Lee," Garreth murmured. "Look at her."

Leander hummed in agreement and the fingers buried inside her worked a little harder. She felt a teasing clench in her abdomen, heat gathering at an alarming rate. Her hands clutched at whatever she could grasp hold of, a desperate whine escaping her throat. "So good..."

"I wouldn't mind taking a closer look," Leander said.

His murmured words sent tingles of fire up her thighs, she was sliding precariously towards an edge and she was determined to take both of them with her. "Do it," she said. "Please..."

They tugged off her boots and yanked her trousers free of her legs, working as a team. Garreth's fingers curled under the waistband of her underwear, his eyes wicked as he slipped them over her hips. Leander watched as the damp cotton slid away to reveal her most intimate parts. Garreth tossed the garment over his shoulder and they gripped a thigh each, spreading her open.

Her lungs were screaming for more air but she seemed incapable of drawing enough oxygen inwards. It kept leaving her at an alarming rate. Especially when she saw the way their eyes burned at the sight of her soaked cunt.

She had been titilated at the thought of experiencing something like this with the both of them, but the reality was something else. It was erotic, it was outrageous, it was fucking everything.

"I don't know about you, mate, but I'm going to need a taste of that," Garreth said. Leander licked his lips, unable to tear his gaze away from the temptation spread out before him. He nodded. "You and me both. You can go first."

MC whined, her fingers flexing eagerly, eyes staring as Garreth settled between her thighs. He parted her gently with his fingers and then licked slowly, flatly, upwards in one long stroke. MC's hand flung out, grasping Leander's arm in a vice like grip, as Garreth swirled his tongue.

"Oh my...shit, that's..." Her words guttered out into a long moan, her thighs twitching, her toes curling. Her desire coiled tightly and her hips rolled against his mouth.

She tugged on Leander's arm unwittingly, but he answered the demand, shifting to take her face in his hand and he kissed her. She opened her mouth for him, welcoming his tongue, moaning against it.

"Does he feel good, MC?" Leander asked against her lips. She whimpered, trying to string together a response, and then Garreth slid a finger into her, sucking at her with his mouth. The wet, slurping sound of it intoxicating. She writhed, her hips needing to buck, but Leander clamped one hip down to the edge of the sofa. "Uh-uh," he scolded, playfully. "Be a good girl and keep still, MC."

She gasped, her eyes widening as she looked up at him. She had urged them both into this and now they were taking utter control. She realised she was powerless to stop it. She didn't want to stop it.

Leander undid her blouse buttons, his fingers swift and eager. The fabric fell open to expose her chemise. She panted, trying to flex her hips, but both Leander and Garreth pinned her down. She was utterly at the mercy of their tongues and hands.

Leander's fingers danced lightly up over the chemise, seeking out a nipple. He pinched, a sharp sting, and she gave a breathy cry. He smirked and rolled it under the palm of his hand, bending his head he playfully used his mouth against the thin cotton to tease the hardened peak.

"Lee..." She panted, arching her back.

He slid the fabric upwards, exposing the smooth flesh of her stomach. He kissed the soft skin under her breasts, moving upwards with tongue and lips until his hot mouth sucked at a nipple. This combined with Garreth's mouth fucking had her climax rushing forward at a dizzying rate. Her thighs began to tremble, her hips straining against Garreth's firm hands.

As her cries became louder, Garreth lifted his head, cutting off the wave as it was about to hit. MC gasped, a strangled cry of frustration bursting from her. "Garreth!"

She looked down at him, her pussy throbbing desperately, as he sat back, grinning and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "That was fucking close," he said. He nodded at Leander. "You'd best get down here and finish the job, don't want you to miss out."

"How about we move this somewhere more comfortable?" Leander suggested.

MC looked between the two of then, the ache between her thighs screaming for release as they calmly discussed the next move. She almost growled in frustration. "Fuck sake, hurry up!"

It was meant to sound like a demand, an attempt to gain back some control, but it came out as a needy whine, and it only heightened the lust on their faces.

Garreth stood and leant over her, her heart pounding, hips writhing. He bent to kiss her on the mouth, slow, teasing. She could taste herself on his lips, she moaned, tongue seeking him out, but he pulled back. His smile was sinful, it made her ache. "Please..." She whispered.

"Let's get you in the bedroom," Garreth said. He looked up at Leander. "Ready?"

"Let's go." Leander stood and scooped MC up easily into his arms. She looped her arms around his neck and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Garreth opened the bedroom door and used his wand to light the lamp, casting the room in a warm low light. Leander placed her gently onto the bed. He tucked her hair behind her ear. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. Her hand tugged at his collar. "You're a little overdressed, though," she said. She moved up onto her knees and began to unbutton his shirt, his hands pushing her blouse from her shoulders. She felt the mattress dip behind her, and then Garreth's hands slid under her chemise, sliding up to cup her breasts. He kissed her shoulder.

"How do you want to do this?" He asked.

Leander smirked and reached to slide his fingers between her thighs. "I need to finish what Garreth started," he said. MC trembled at his touch, anticipation tingling through her blood.

She reached a hand up to slide her fingers into Garreth's hair as he kissed her neck. "Then Garreth can have my mouth," she said, softly.

MC was on her back, her thighs spread for Leander and Garreth straddled her torso. She slid her hands up his thick thighs, the hair there rough under her palms, and his cock twitched eagerly in front of her face. Pink and swollen, the tip glistening, the hair at the base as thick and red as that on his head, she eyed him greedily.

Years she had known him, thought they were as close anyone could be, but seeing him like this made her pulse race maddeningly. The intimacy of it made her breathless.

Garreth used his own hand on himself for a few pumps, looking down at her with his mouth slightly parted. She licked her lips and then arched, a moan spilling out as Leander swirled and sucked hard on her clit.

Garreth nudged the tip of his cock against her parted lips and she pushed out her tongue to lick at him before taking the girth of him in to her mouth.

"Yes, oh gods..." His breathy moans filled her ears as his hips flexed, fucking her mouth. His hand tangled into her hair, gripping it, holding her head right where he wanted her.

"Fuck, MC, that...that feels so good..." He stared down at her as she sucked, shuddering as she teased and wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft. She moaned around him, flexing her own hips to meet Leander's mouth, his long fingers biting into the soft flesh of her thighs.

She could feel her release building again, the heat gathering swiftly after being cut off so wickedly before. Her moans mingled with Garreth's, both of them chasing that much needed relief.

Garreth was becoming undone, his hips moving faster. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his thighs as his cock slid deeper towards the back of her throat, she gagged a little, her throat restricting around his tip and drawing groans from his mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned. His hand was braced against the headboard, the other gripping her hair. She hollowed her cheeks and slid her hands around to squeeze his delicious, peachy bum.

Leander slid two fingers into her, curling them up just perfectly, and swirled hotly with his tongue at her clit. His pace quickened and she felt him moan against her. Her two favourite boys were being so good to her, giving her what she wanted. The heat inside her flared, white hot and sharp. She arched, clenching around Leander's fingers, the wave of her release strong and deeply satisfying.

Her head fell back, Garreth's cock exiting her mouth with a wet pop, and a cry tore from her throat as she clenched, baring down with trembling thighs.

"Fuck, that's hot," Garreth muttered.

She squeezed her hand around him and he grunted. She brought her mouth back to him, desperately trying to catch her breath through her nose as she sucked hard, desperate to feel him fall apart at her touch.

She felt Leander dip his fingers into her again, swirling them deep, then he pulled them out, coating them with her release.

Then, Garreth hissed a breath through his teeth, his hips bucked. A cry burst from his lips. "Oh, fuck...Lee!"

Garreth bent forward, his knees sliding out a little wider, his cock sliding deeper, and MC gagged, tears streaming from her eyes. Leander had rubbed her release around Garreth's hole, working him gently until he could gently slid a finger into him.

Garreth squeezed his eyes shut tight, his fingers gripping MC's hair so tightly she winced, but she kept sucking, swirling her tongue over his tip a few times before she felt the hot throbbing pulse under her hand. His guttural moan sent shivers up her spine as he shot his release into her mouth.

She gulped, swallowing what she could, but a trickle escaped and leaked from the corner of her mouth. Garreth pulled back, panting, releasing her hair. She rubbed at her scalp to ease where he had pulled it, before leaning up onto her elbows, staring up at Garreth's flushed face and fucked out eyes, in awe of his beauty.

Leander was behind him, looking at her over Garreth's shoulder. He reached around to wipe his thumb from her jaw up to her mouth, collecting the dribble of Garreth's cum that she hadn't cleared up yet.

"Let me clean that up for you," Leander murmured. "You've got such a pretty mouth."

MC gaped as Leander sucked his thumb clean. Garreth looked over his shoulder at Leander. "Nice work with the finger, by the way," he said.

Leander gave Garreth a wink and MC clenched her thighs together, already pining for more, not expecting to be aroused by them like this.

Then, Leander chuckled and clapped Garreth on the shoulder. "Always got your back, mate."

Garreth climbed off MC and bent to press a kiss to her mouth. "Such a good girl for me," he said. "Now, you need to be good for Leander."

MC settled back into the mattress, hands reaching for Leander as he positioned himself between her legs. Running her hands up his arms, she glanced down and whimpered. Fuck, he was big!

She widened her thighs in anticipation and then yelped as he gripped her hips and yanked her down the mattress towards him. Then Garreth was behind her, grabbing her wrists and pulling her arms up above her head.

"What...what the fuck?" She cried. She twisted her head up to look at Garreth. His eyes were dancing with mischief.

"Now, what did I say about being a good girl, MC," he said. He bent to kiss her nose. "I want to watch as you take him."

Their dominance over her took her completely off guard, she had not expected it, but she would be lying if she said it didn't excite her. Garreth was usually softer, and this more dominant side of him was making her heart pound.

Her breaths quickened as Garreth pinned her hands to the mattress. She was stretched out on the bed, Leander lining himself up at her entrance with his dripping cock, his gaze was hungry, eyes blazing as he pressed the tip inwards.

MC parted her lips and writhed at the feel of him. His hand tightened on her hip, he pulled back a touch and then sank a little deeper, his eyes rolling at the tightness of her. He pushed in a little more, stretching her. "Fucking hell, that's tight," he groaned.

She whimpered, feeling the stretch. "More..."

"She wants it, Lee," Garreth said. He bent to whisper into her ear, his breath hot, torturing her, as her hair tickled her neck. "Tell him, MC. Tell him how much you want it."

"I do," she whined. She rolled her hips, her walls sliding deliciously over his girth. "Fuck me, please...fuck me," she begged.

He slowly pulled out until just the tip was inside, edging ever so carefully with it. His eyes locked with hers and he smirked, teasing her.

She literally growled at him. "Fucking tease!"

Garreth chuckled and looked up at Leander. "Best let her have it, mate."

Leander plunged in deeply and MC arched off the bed, her moan low and utterly feral as he filled her to her limit. She panted at the utter full feeling of him, and then he started to fuck.

She was losing her mind. He was relentless, his thrusts hard and deep, slamming into her, hitting her so deep she was practically wincing. Her arms wanted to flail, her fingers needed to grip, but Garreth was pinning her down. She was completely at their mercy and the fire of her need was twisting savagely in her gut. He felt amazing.

She surrendered herself to them, closing her eyes as her cries of pleasure spilled from her lips. Her body met with Leander's in a fleshy, wet slap, his fingers biting into her hip. She could hear his harsh breaths, his grunts, and the soft words that whispered from his mouth. "Feels so good...fuck...she's such a good girl."

MC glanced up at Garreth, he was watching intently, mouth slightly parted. His lips so soft and inviting. "Kiss me," she breathed. "Garreth..."

He released her hands, and his mouth claimed hers, the kiss surprisingly gentle, a comparison to the complete railing she was receiving at the other end. His hand smoothed to cup her breast, moulding her gently, thumb brushing over her sensitive peak.

Now that her hands were free, she fisted them in Garreth's hair, needing something to cling on because she was hurtling towards the edge, her body an inferno.

Leander groaned, his thrusts becoming loose, leaning forward as he buried himself deep, cock throbbing tightly as he found his release. He stilled, breathing hard for a moment before he pulled out and shifted her leg, hot cum spilling on to her thigh as he collapsed onto the bed beside her. Garreth broke their kiss and looked up.

"Fucking amazing," Leander sighed.

Garreth moved to look down at MC's dripping slit. He stroked a finger over her entrance and she moaned. Garreth was holding his hardening cock, stroking it as he slid his finger into her. "Mmm, so wet and full," he said.

"I can take more," she said.

Garreth nodded. He tapped the outside of her thigh. "Up you get then, sweetheart," he said. "I want to see you sitting on my cock."

With Garreth beneath her, and Leander behind her, MC slid on to Garreth's cock, rolling her hips. Garreth groaned, his hands on her, guiding her as she moved. His fit was a little more gentle, filling her nice and snug, his cock rubbing deliciously in all the right places.

Leander slid his arms around her, hands cupping her bare breasts, his mouth on her neck. Again, MC was overwhelmed at the feel of the both of them, heat gathering quickly as she fucked Garreth. Her pace was slower than Leander's urgent thrusts, her body was beginning to tire, but she had wanted them both, she was determined to take them both.

Pleasure tightened Garreth's face, and for once she had some control, she was doing this to him. She reached up to hold Leander's head, her fingers diving into his hair, ruffling his normally neat style. He slid a hand down over her stomach, a finger seeking out her clit, she bucked, groaning.

He began to circle his finger tightly against her, dipping lower to run it over Garreth's cock and scoop up the slick to ease his strokes. Garreth moaned at his touch and MC felt a tight flare of lust. She began to rut harder, her fingers gripping Leander's hair tighter as he worked her and teased Garreth.

She looked down, Leander's hand pleasuring her, Garreth's cock sliding in and out, coated in all three of their fluids. The erotic feel of it sent her over the edge. MC cried out as a second orgasm rocked her, her walls clenching and sucking around Garreth.

"Fuck, you're so sexy," Leander moaned, into her ear. "Such a good girl, cumming on his cock like that."

Garreth groaned and sat up, one hand holding her hip, urging her to keep fucking, her walls clenching with aftershocks. He pressed hot kisses along her collar bone and up towards her neck, before he reached for Leander.

MC gasped, aroused beyond belief as Leander leant over her shoulder, pinning her between their bodies and pressed his mouth to Garreth's. MC's hips stuttered, seriously distracted at the sound of their wet, sloppy kiss.

Garreth rutted his hips upwards, and she ground against him, his grip tightened and then he broke his kiss with Leander, burying his face into her neck with a loud groan as his cock throbbed and pulsed with his climax.

They stilled, all three of them, breathing hard, wrapped in each other's limbs. Looks were shared between the three of them, she shifted to put a hand on each of their faces, and they both leant in to press kisses to her face. They leant their heads together, smiling.

"We should have done this years ago," Leander sighed. "That was brilliant."

Garreth shifted his eyes up to his best friend. "I agree."

MC felt warmth in her chest, love for the both of them. She had no regrets, none at all. What's more, she wouldn't say no to more. She grinned and pressed a kiss to each of their noses. "Well, I don't leave for another two days..."

Garreth and Leander exchanged a look. "Maybe we ought to get some sleep," Garreth said. "It's going to be a busy two days."

MC lay in the middle of the bed, Garreth and Leander on each side of her, pressed close. Her two favourites. She felt her eyes drifting closed and she couldn't remember a time when she had ever felt this happy. Or satisfied.

She snuggled down in between her two lions, enveloped in their combined scent and warmth, welcoming sleep, and very much looking forward to tomorrow.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #garreth weasley #leander prewett smut #garreth weasley smut #leander prewett x MC x garreth Weasley #leander x mc x garreth smut #a ginger sandwich #three Gryffindors in a bed #blueraineshadows #leander prewett

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