#he needs brown contacts but i love him with his icy blue ass eyes

[sidhion]

i back. here food.

[nerdyfangirl67]

Drowns the Memory - NCIS Reader Insert

Pairing: Gibbs x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, language, unrequited love, slightly ooc Gibbs. This is an angsty one folks.

Word count: 1486

A/N: This one is inspired by the Jason Aldean song “Drowns the Whiskey” and rule 12. I couldn’t see it with anyone other than Gibbs. It didn’t turn out exactly like I thought it would but I hope y’all still enjoy it.

Short summary: Gibbs thinks that reader and Tony are pushing rule 12. Reader tells Gibbs who she really wishes to break rule 12 for.

You stare at the amber brown liquid in the tumbler in front of you on the smooth cherry oak bar. This was your third shot in half as many hours and the pleasant buzz you had felt after the first had faded, leaving you well on your way to being drunk. How it had gotten to this point, you weren’t entirely sure. You had never been much of a drinker and you certainly didn’t look to the bottle for comfort when you were struggling, but today, it felt right. 

---

The day had been filled with the backlog of paperwork sitting on your desk, some of which you had put off doing until absolutely necessary. Tony had started trying to distract you around lunchtime with well-timed desk visits, off-handed comments, and even a few precisely aimed balls of paper. 

You let out a heavy sigh, as you stare at the page in front of you. The words had started to swim together, becoming big blurred images, rather than the paragraphs they were supposed to be. “Having fun sweetcheeks?” You lift up your gaze, your eyes meeting Tony’s green ones, mirth dancing in their depths. 

“Yeah Tony. The weeks of paperwork that have stacked up on my desk is a real party.” You say sarcastically, trying in vain to return your attention to the paper in front of you and off of Tony, who had made himself comfortable on the edge of your desk.

“Sarcasm, really dollface? It’s not a good look on you.” Tony said mischievously, leaning in close to you. You give him a good, backhanded whack to the torso. “Bug off Tony.” You say with a smile. He catches your hand, stopping you from pulling away. 

“Ah, ah, ah.” He says, a cheeky grin on his face. He stands, pulling you up out of your chair as he does. “I think it’s time for a break.” He slings his arm over your shoulder, leading the way to the vending machines. 

Five minutes later, the two of you are walking back to the bullpen, snacks in hand. You swipe a chip from Tony’s open bag, his groan of protest causing you to let out a laugh. He reaches to grab one of yours and you give him a rough shoulder bump in response. 

“DiNozzo, Y/L/N.” Gibbs barks out as he stalks into the bullpen, grabbing something off of his desk before turning around, walking back the way he came. “Elevator, now.” You give Tony a quick look, dropping your snacks on your desk before you scamper after Gibbs, Tony close behind you.

The three of you board the elevator and after a few beats, Gibbs pulls the emergency stop. He turns to the two of you, his eyes blazing with fury. You shift your gaze to Tony, seeing that your own confusion is reflected on Tony’s face, before returning your eyes to Gibbs. “Rule number twelve is in place for a reason. Yet the two of you seem to have no regard for it.” Tony lets out a harsh laugh and you give him a look. ‘Shut up’ you mouth to him. 

“Handle it.” Gibbs says gruffly, before slamming his hand against the emergency stop to start the elevator again. 

“Damnit Jethro.” You hiss out through clenched teeth as you pull out the emergency stop, halting the progress of the elevator again. His piercing blue eyes are boring into yours. “I don’t like Tony like that. He’s basically a brother to me.” 

“You could’ve fooled me.” He says abruptly, giving Tony a stare over your shoulder.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, desperately wishing you didn’t have to continue, especially since Tony stood in the elevator as an audience. You had a hard enough time admitting this to Jethro, let alone to Tony, who would use it to make fun of you for weeks to come. “I like you, I have for a long time. ”

Tony lets out a cough before squeezing past you to release the emergency stop and repeatedly hit the button for the floor that the bullpen was on. The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival on your floor. You hear Tony scurry out and the doors close again, but your eyes never leave his. His expression is unreadable and you can't understand the emotions behind his gaze, which makes you feel as if you are going into this blind. 

You continue, regardless of the nervous anxiety rising in your chest. “Like isn’t the right word. What I feel for you is more than that. I think, no, I’m sure I love you.” You trail off into a whisper, each word getting harder for you to say. 

He is quiet, his eyes never leaving yours. The longer he looks at you, the more you wish you could take back your words. In fact, you almost start to stammer out some sort of half-assed excuse when the elevator lets out a ding. Despite knowing running wasn’t the answer, you still flee from the elevator, not caring which floor you were on. You don’t really take note of your surroundings, instead you rush towards the stairs, heading down to the ground level. You speed out to your car, not entirely sure where you were headed, but knowing you had to get away.

---

Your attention is dragged from the memory of earlier that day when someone bumps your shoulder. You turn, ready to snap at whoever had been careless enough to disturb you, but your eyes meet a pair of blue ones, a pair you know all too well. Eyes that you have stared into countless times, seeking their gaze when things got tough. Eyes that you had gotten lost in a few times, dreaming of a future where you could tell the person those icy blues belonged to that you loved him. Eyes that always shone with a gentle kindness and understanding that you had grown to depend on. 

Tonight though, anger swirled in their depths and you knew that that emotion was directed at you, or at the very least, your situation. Despite the guilt you felt for causing him to feel that way, you couldn’t bring yourself to utter anything other than, “What?”

He doesn’t say anything as he sits down next to you, lifting a hand to catch the bartender’s attention. “A shot of bourbon.” He says gruffly when the bartender stops in front of the two of you. The bartender turns to you. “A whiskey.” You add, trying to ignore the silent look you could feel him giving you. After the bartender returns with your drinks, you find yourself turning your eyes to his, feeling a surge of confidence. He doesn’t say anything verbally, but his eyes are speaking volumes. Gone is the anger from earlier, but what it is replaced by, you aren’t entirely sure and you don’t spend time to figure it out.

“Look, I understand rule twelve. And I get your stubborn need to abide by your own rules.” You start, taking a pause to down the rest of the whiskey in front of you. The burning sensation serves as something of a distraction from what you were about to say. “But that doesn’t change how I feel about you Jethro, how I’ll always feel about you.” You rest your hand on his and he lets you, not pulling away from the contact, as he eyes search yours. Knowing Gibbs, he was looking to see whether or not you were telling the truth. The silence stretches between the two of you, all else fading away. The din of the bar fades until it's just the two of you. You can feel him rubbing his thumb absent-mindedly along the inside of your wrist, his breath, smelling of bourbon and coffee, fanning across your face as he leans in close. 

“Rule twelve is not meant to be broken.” His voice is rough with emotion as he slowly extracts his hand from yours, lifting it to cup the side of your face. You lean into his hand, wanting to feel his touch on your skin, not knowing when or if you’d feel it again. He leans back only a moment later, withdrawing his hand from your face. “Not for anyone.” He says, tipping back his glass and finishing off his bourbon. He pulls a wad of cash from his pocket, enough to cover his drink and your entire tab, tossing it on the bar top and heading towards the door.

His words, and their implication, are ringing in your ears, as your heart thuds painfully in your chest. His words had washed away the giddy feeling brought on by the whiskey. You weren’t entirely sure what you were going to do on Monday when you returned to the NCIS building, but for now, you decided to drown the memory of a certain silver-haired, blue-eyed agent, if only for a night. 

[lucemferto]

I wrote that Wilbur scene I talked about yesterday. I don't know if I captured any of the characters' voices, but I tried. It's around 1,800 words.

Sorry to spoil the surprise, but this scene has a twist!

„I’m not joining you.“

Wilbur’s eyes grew narrow. His cold gaze lingered on Tommy’s face. The boy’s expression was resolute; unwavering.

But there was this slight twitch in the left corner of his mouth. Just the faintest quiver in his lips. A weakness to be exploited.

“This burger van …” Tommy hesitated “… it’s just history repeating itself. It will end with us hurting people again …”

“’With us hurting people’?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow.

As he stepped closer, all the determination that Tommy had projected seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye. Wilbur gave him a wide smile – a thinly-veiled threat behind the appearance of affability.

“Tommy, we never hurt anyone! L’Manburg was a grand old time, Tommy, don’t you remember? Me as president; you as—”

“Maybe it wasn’t, Wilbur.”

Wilbur’s smile faltered. A glower displaced his once outwardly cheery disposition.

“You’re not making sense.”

“I’m not making sense?!” Tommy raised his voice, a blustering anger flaring up and painting over the insecurities that had been so apparent just moments before. “The presidency killed you, Wilbur! And it almost killed Tubbo! I can’t let that—”

“Tubbo?!” A hoarse laugh escaped Wilbur’s throat; more like the angry bellowing of a rabid dog. “Why the fuck should we care about Tubbo?! He betrayed us, Tommy!”

“T-That’s not true!”

Wilbur stepped closer; Tommy took a step back – but the walls of the van were already pressed up against his back. The older man was towering over him, casting him in shadow. A wild and manic energy was glinting in his eyes, bloodshot and red like sundown soon giving way to a dark night.

“He fucking teamed with the enemy, Tommy! What else would you call that?!”

“He still cares—”

Wilbur’s hand shot forward. Like the maw of an angry serpent, it closed itself around Tommy’s throat. All colour drained from the boy’s face – his complexion like that of a corpse.

“Don’t you fucking get it, Tommy?!” Little droplets of spittle rained on Tommy’s skin as Wilbur’s face inched ever closer to his. “Tubbo doesn’t care; he never cared! You were just a fucking tool to him, Tommy! Someone he could use and throw away once you were no longer useful!”

Wilbur’s dirty fingernails burrowed themselves into Tommy’s neck – soon trails of red were trickling down into the boy’s shirt.

“I’m the only who cares, Tommy! I’m the only one who ever cared about you!”

“Wilbur! Y-you’re hurting me!”

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy! I don’t ca—”

“STOP!”

The scene halted; as though time had frozen. A figure emerged from the darkness of the burger van.

It was Wilbur.

Though he and the Wilbur currently choking Tommy looked almost identical upon first glance, there were some striking differences: Gleaming red eyes contrasted against tired brown ones; demonic intensity against a dull exhaustion. The first Wilbur seemed almost unnaturally tall and imposing as he towered over Tommy; the second Wilbur carried himself smaller, more guarded.

“I d-don’t …” For a moment the voice of the second Wilbur seemed to falter; but soon he snapped back to a more confident bearing; all insecurity obscured behind a steadfast façade. “No more!”

A deafening silence fell upon the van. Then, slowly, as though unattached from his neck, Tommy’s head turned to Wilbur. Brilliant blue gave way to a searing crimson; fear to a wide, sharp-teethed grin.

“Whaaaat? You don’t enjoy the little play I put on just for you? And I thought you’d be impressed with all the cool ghost shit I can do now.”

With a sickening ratch, two horns ripped through Tommy’s temples. Shadow swallowed his blond locks, transforming them into dark, slicked back hair. Murky, unkempt facial hair sprout from his skin as his once lively complexion grew grey and translucent. Smokey tendrils enshrouded the red and white T-Shirt, before it emerged as a black business suit, the bloodred tie serving as the only blotch of colour.

The ghost of Schlatt had appeared before Wilbur.

“Guess it hit a little too close to home, huh?”

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed. While the illusionary Tommy had disappeared upon Glatt’s arrival, the facsimile of himself was still standing there. Frozen in eternal wrath.

Wilbur’s mouth grew thin. “I wouldn’t do that to Tommy. I would never hurt him.”

Feigned shock contorted Glatt’s mouth into a darkly comical expression. “That’s not what he told me.”

Wilbur felt something icy sting in his chest “What?”

Glatt nodded. “Yeah, it was the strangest thing. I was in my gym doing reps, snorting creatine, you know how it goes, when suddenly I hear some … some whining.”

Wilbur immediately took notice. He knew what Glatt was talking about. The lump in his throat felt like it would soon suffocate him.

Glatt didn’t seem to notice.

“The sound of some low-T beta just letting it all out. And when I go take a look, who else should I find but—"

“Tommy …”

“Don’t interrupt me. Anyway, when I turn the corner, I see this real pathetic mess just sitting on the floor, sobbing. I told him to shut the fuck up, because he was throwing me off my game. But he just wouldn’t stop, so good guy that I am – you remember how great I am with kids!”

“You never were.”

“Oh no, I was! That Tubbo-kid, he had it good in Manberg.”

Wilbur flinched – whether it was because of the bastardized name of the country he had once loved and loathed or because Glatt’s words woke some memories in him that he’d soon rather forget; he did not know.

“You had him executed.”

Glatt nodded, a wistful smile curling his ashen lips. “Good times, good times. Anyway, the little ghost-brat … he tells me his name is Gommy.”

Glatt let out a harsh, bellowing laugh. Wilbur could not share his amusement. He had almost forgotten how much he hated Schlatt’s sneering.

The ghost still had not managed to fully compose himself. “Gommy, that’s such a dumb name! Gommy … you wanna know what a good name is?”

“Is it—?”

“GLATT!”

The sound came out like a bile-filled belch. Wilbur closed his eyes in exasperation; his fingers massaging the bridge of his nose.

“I figured … Does this story have a point or are you just here to waste my time?”

Glatt frowned. “What, am I not good enough company for you?”

“Not even in the slightest.”

For the first time in their conversation, Glatt’s face grew more serious. His red stare tore into Wilbur; almost drilled into his mind. Wilbur answered the ghost’s stare with what he hoped was a cold, unreadable expression.

But he knew that in Schlatt’s presence, there were no masks to wear. No intent to hide. That ram was the only man that could strip him bare.

Finally, Wilbur had to break eye contact. With a sound of exasperation, he spat out: “Get to the point!”

“‘Get to the point’” The false Wilbur moved his lips, but it was Glatt’s mocking voice that emerged from behind them. “Man, I liked it more when you were a little ghost bitch. You used to come to my gym actually; did some reps. Annoying accent, but damn, what a cute ass.”

Wilbur’s jaw tensed. He had enough of this.

“I’m leaving.”

With a few long strides he had reached the exit of the van. The cold, fresh night air was beckoning him; away from the smell of cigarettes and alcohol.

Then that obnoxious voice called after him again: “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. Ghost-boy didn’t have the nicest things to say about you …”

Wilbur froze. His hand was on the door handle, ready to release him from this dark, stuffy room. It would be so easy to just leave; to rid himself of this headache. He did not need to stay.

“… You’re lying.”

A wide grin stretched Glatt’s thin lips – Wilbur couldn’t see it; but he could hear it in that tone of his.

“I’m the one who’s lying? No, no, no, I’m merely recounting what 'Gommy' told me.”

Wilbur turned around. Glatt’s smug smirk was even more unbearable than he had imagined.

“You know, after he was done bawling his eyes out and blubbering like a little bitch –“

Glatt’s face shifted into warped replica of Tommy’s – big shimmering eyes and a little doll like mouth quivering with exaggerated sorrow: “‘D-D-Dweam, D-Dweam, h-h-he’— Anyway, he told me that while my cabinet was having a grand old time over in Manberg, you were being very mean to him.”

Wilbur shook his head. “I-I’ve changed. I apologized!”

Tommy-Glatt let out another bellowing laugh. It cut through Wilbur like a knife through a paper door.

“You think an apology could make this better!”

Wilbur jumped back. The fake Wilbur began to move once more. With a thundering roar, his fist made contact with the fake Tommy’s temple. A loud thud; Tommy impacted with the floor of the van. But before he could get up, the fake Wilbur began kicking him in the stomach; screaming obscenities and curses.

It wasn’t Wilbur’s voice – it was so clearly Glatt’s poor imitation of his accent. With each kick, Glatt-Tommy’s eyes bulged out of his skull; not like a person, but like a grotesque cartoon. It was a farcical display.

But Wilbur – the real Wilbur – was paralyzed. His mind was clouded with memories and nightmares; fears bloated and distorted by thirteen years of isolation

“That’s not … that’s not what happened!”

Schlatt’s piercing, high-pitched cackling erupted out of Tommy’s mouth once more.

“Boy, Limbo really did a number on you!”

With a jump Glatt-Tommy was up on his feet again – his nose bloody and broken, his skin coloured black and blue; his hateful grin revealing multiple missing teeth.

“Not that you were all that together beforehand – ‘Tommy, let’s be the bad guys!’ ‘No, Wilbur don’t blow up Manberg. If you blow up Manberg, I’m gonna piss my pants—’ ‘Shut up, Tommy!’”

“I never hit him!” Wilbur’s panicked exclamation interrupted the smear show. “I never hit him!”

Glatt-Tommy shook his head; the satisfied grin not leaving his face. “That’s not what he told me! And what’s worse, when that green guy – Dream, I think his name was? – while he was using Tommy as his own personal punching bag, your ghost was off in the woods jerking off or something. And now you're calling Dream your hero!”

Wilbur felt as all colour drained from his face. The van around him began to spin; darkness and alcohol and cigarette smoke choking even the last ounce of the outside air he could smell.

“I-I …”

Slowly the façade of Tommy began to melt once more. Slowly, deliberately. A nightmarish display. Glatt’s and Tommy’s voices spoke in unison; their echo a cacophony in Wilbur’s ears.

“Face it, loverboy. You will always be a bad guy. No number of apologies will change that. He will never forgive you.”

[real-fanta-sea]

Prompt for the kiss no. 71

Prompt: "Not to be cringe or anything, but I really like the idea of the kiss 71 (height difference kisses where one person has to bend down, and the other is on their tippy-toes)...where Trevor is his true height. i.e. Ogg's height and Michael has to stand on his tiptoes to snog him."

I'm sorry, anon, but I saved the post as a draft and it just vanished into thin connection. So, I have to answer this way.

This work is more of a spur of the moment thing, but I kinda like the way it turned out, being it just my emotions spilt onto paper. If you'd like, you can read it on AO3 here, or under read more. I hope you'll like it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

tw: kissing, child abuse memories

It's been three weeks already.

An unhealthy greenish glow of flickering light tubes and the icy breath of an industrial refrigerator made him shiver as Michael, gliding on the orbit touching stars in his mind, put yet another box of ready-made microwave hamburgers into his shopping cart. If he were not a regular in this particular shop, he would have got lost. It resembled an anthill with seemingly infinite shelves and aisles, bursting with the merchandise, even though the depressed lights covered everything in the same shade of decay green. The same life outlook was shared with most of the shadows roaming around whose name tags qualified them as proud employees of Flormart.

It's been three weeks, and he still stuck around, hanging on his every word.

Michael pushed his cart further from frozen goods, and the pictures swirling and smearing all around transitioned from photoshopped vegetables to flashy fireworks of chips and other guilty pleasures he planned on indulging in later on. Some people would find the height of the shelves menacing, but to Michael, it was just a memory that pulled him from the orbit back to earth and placed him in the middle of a football pitch. The smell of sweat building up underneath his helmet. The crunch of the crisp lawn under his feet. The spotlight following him whenever he scored. Cheering faceless crowds in time with busty faceless girls' pompoms. But most of all, he felt happy again - needed, cherished, innocent, and with a bright future awaiting his embrace. But then, just as he crossed from the snacks aisle to the alcohol quarter, the football stadium lights flickered and turned bright red. All the faceless girls turned around, their mouths gaping as if someone dislocated their jaws, and the cheering turned into a hellish cry of pain. Where their eyes were supposed to be, he saw a flair, screwing itself deeper into their skull, and a stream of scarlet goo drip down on their immaculate white dresses.

It's been three weeks, and somehow, his puppy-like behaviour didn't irk him yet. Quite the opposite if he were honest with himself - he felt strangely peaceful in his company.

Michael gulped in a desperate attempt to wash down the horror that invited itself under cover of a happy memory. Shaking his head only did so much and dispersed the spectators and cheerleaders alike, in the same way shaking a snowy paperweight would. Michael's chest constricted as he felt unable to breathe in properly, people splatting and exploding upon impact all around him in his mind. Suddenly, he felt a pull under both of his shoulders and found himself flying towards the pitch-black sky, where instead of one moon, two shone down on him. As he flew closer, they shrunk into two amber irises - and Michael immediately knew who pulled him out of the memory. As he crashed into a mass of pink candy cotton clouds, his vision blurred just to clear up when he felt a solid surface under his feet and someones hot hands in his. Somehow, he found himself looking at the tips of abused old pair of sneakers he was wearing, the same pair Michael knew he wore that faithful day at the airstrip. A moment later, a couple of dark blue, equally run-down ones stepped into his field of vision. He slowly let his sight slide up on crumpled jeans, the hem of a military jacket, a pair of dog tags hanging around a slender neck, a sharp jaw, a pair of full dark lips and finally, to the pair of amber eyes, eyes that radiated worry, care and, at the same time, something he could only read as love and utmost devotion.

It's been three weeks since the incident, and anytime he woke up from a nightmare that played in his mind over and over again, he was there to soothe him; he was there waiting for Michael's tears to dampen his naked shoulder. He didn't bitch about it and didn't tell a soul in the morning.

Michael let out a shaky breath. Stopping his feet from casually continuing in their stroll proved harder than he thought, and he leaned on the shopping cart handle, running fingers through his hair. He couldn't decide what mortified him more - the creativity his brain proved to possess when playing out the horrible things he has witnessed in just a few years of his fresh adulthood, or the way it put his acquaintance on some fucking pedestal and presented him as the alpha and omega of his thoughts and desires.

"Hey Michael, are you ok?"

Speaking of the devil... "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just.." Michael breathed in again and turned towards the source of the voice, trying to display a small smile by twitching his tired lips "I need a smoke, that's all."

It's been three weeks, and he got that tingling feeling in his guts already. He could barely tolerate touch or prolonged eye contact without getting goosebumps and that ticklish feeling solidifying and slicing right into his groin. Michael wanted to believe it was just his weird head showing gratitude for saving his ass, but anytime he found himself in the company of that amber-eyed twink, the longing grew worse.

"Hey, how about a bottle of something to wash the cig down?" said the guy and his oversized jeans jacket hanging from his shoulders cringed into weird shapes as he took one of his hands out of his pocket and pointed his thumb towards the shelves. He looked so adorably dishevelled in all jeans, and with his silky hair framing his hopeful face, Michael couldn't have said no to anything he would suggest. Instead of mustering the strength to say no, Michael threw another smile towards his companion and turned his back to him to choose the dream crusher he wanted to numb them with before they went to bed.

To someone who grew up in a functional family, all the labels and bottle shapes would seem the same. To Michael, however, to choose the right brand and size meant the same as selecting the bananas or avocados of the proper ripeness would for them. It was a work of art; he learned so much in the ten years of living with his stepfather. While scrutinizing the shelves, index finger and thumb scrubbing on the sides of his chin absent-mindedly, he remembered how they would come to the similar shop together, he and his mother's second husband, and how he slipped behind the shelves. At the same time, Frank chatted with the clerk, and he stuffed his lunch box with a large flat bottle of Chief's Heritage Fire Water whiskey. He had to carefully close it to avoid disturbing the aluminium foil that served as a guard from the primitive electronic protection device they had to pass through on their way out. Michael would then tuck his stepfather's sleeve, babble some cute nonsense to get candy from the unsuspicious clerk, and after they paid for the two packs of cigarettes and a beer, they would leave. Frank would let him chug on whiskey then, and if he were in an exceptionally good mood, he would let him sleep through the night without beating the shit out of him.

Finally, spotting the whiskey he knew so well on one of the top shelves, Michael attempted to grasp it but only managed to graze his fingertips against the bottom of one of the bottles that rocked gently upon touch but otherwise didn't move an inch. "Fuck", he uttered under his breath, cracked his neck and stretched onto the tips of his toes, steadying himself by holding onto one of the lower shelves. But, again, he could only touch the bottle but not get a good hold of it. He even contemplated climbing the shelves to get it, as if the shame of his disappointing height haven't already painted his cheeks bright red and didn't make him want to leave the shop right away. Just as he braced himself for the climb, eyes fixed on that damn bottle, a gentle touch of someone's hand squeezing his shoulder made him turn around. It was Trevor's hand, and even though Michael still had to look up to meet his eyes, the small sympathetic smile put him in ease in a blink of an eye.

"Chief's, huh? Good choice, Mike!" the praise in his voice made Michael shiver, and he desperately tried to ignore the warmth he was receiving through the palm still steady on his shoulder and which upset his heart into beating twice as fast as ever before. "My old man used to drink this. It tastes like cat piss but knocks you out good for the buck." Trevor's grin felt like a warm touch sunrise after countless years of freezing darkness. Michael couldn't help but soak in the warmth, allowing himself to lose himself in the feeling completely. "Let me get it for you, eh?" he heard Trevor say from somewhere near, and before he could object, most of the light was obstructed by a jeans-clad chest.

It was then when Michael closed his eyes and tried to get hold of the situation. Trevor, the guy he only knew for three weeks, pushing Michael's back onto the shelves as he leaned for the bottle but also pushing his chest almost to Michael's. If it weren't for a couple of inches of hot air and fabric between them, their bodies would brush against each other. Michael could only gulp when he opened his eyes again, and his mind provided him with the maddening picture of Trevor's naked lean chest, peppered with dark brown hair as if puberty marked its way down towards his groin with it. Michael's head was spinning when he looked up to see Trevor still busy fetching the bottle. Michael's racing imagination saw him grabbing the guy's head, crashing lips with his and dissolving into what he thought would be the best kiss he would ever receive. Michael gulped again. He had to have him.

He was anxious about the way it was too easy to raise both his hands and grab fists full of other man's jacket as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Michael didn't fight it when he felt his muscles pull on the fabric and only turned his gaze up to where he expected Trevor's eyes to look once he would feel the movement of his clothes. Michael didn't have to wait for it at all, actually; the puzzled expression was already waiting for him to drink it up. However, he couldn't maintain the contact for too long as his eyes focused on something completely different; the dark lips, deliciously parted in the unspoken question. The distance between his own and them unnerved him, and in the sparking silence, Michael again propped himself onto the tips of his toes, pressed harder on the fabric to steady himself and, closing eyes, pressed his lips to Trevor's.

For a delicious moment, the world fell apart as if some invisible force made the dimensions crash down. The trembling soft firmness against his lips sent shivers down his spine with each cautious move. Whenever Michael recalled the moment years later, he could always sense the faint smell of cigarettes, petrol and sun mixing between their bodies and the way the ground shook and cried under his feet when he felt Trevor's palms slide down his sides and pull him closer, effectively sweeping him off his feet.

Trevor seemed to be relishing at the moment as much as Michael was, but when he felt solid ground under his feet again, and the pair of arms letting go of him, Michael reluctantly broke the kiss with a coquettish wet pop and tried to catch his lost breath. Then, leaning against the shelves again, he only dared to peek up when his cheeks stopped burning from what felt like a mixture of acid and a marathon run. Trevor's face might as well have been a mirror, for he looked down on Michael with eyes wide, face red and lips wet and trembling as if he didn't get a grasp of reality yet. Michael couldn't help but let the anxiety scream right to his face in the voice of his stepfather - and there were thousands of things he might have ruined then and there, just because he didn't fight his stupid queer side, because he let himself kiss another man, because by the twisted chain of mistakes he fell from what could have been a good life to longing after a rabid smuggler in the middle of a liquor aisle.

Just as he was about to duck under Trevor's arm and run away from the voice and feelings of shame it brought about, he was stopped by a gentle, almost shy touch of a hot palm on his cheek. The slender fingers brushed against his face in such a delicate way Michael's heart skipped a beat, and closing his eyes, he leaned into the touch, seeking the soothing silence it brought with the warmth. The hand fit his cheek like a glove, Michael mused as he relaxed into slow movements of fingertips on his temples. Right there, at that moment, everything felt so right, so natural. Why has he deprived himself of the delicious heat for three weeks when somewhere deep inside, where the beating of his heart always gave away the truth, he knew he needed it from the start - well, Michael didn't know. Instead, he slid his arms around Trevor's waist and buried his face into his chest.

"Michael?"

The vibrating echo of his name, spoken in such a husky yet caring way, made Michael squeeze his arms around Trevor even tighter. He sought the last bits and pieces of it before he dared to speak up himself, afraid of spoiling the delicious contentment of the moment.

"Let's get out of here."

A gentle kiss on top of his head and long arms lacing his shoulders later, Michael found himself too far from Trevor for comfort. But even with the newly gained distance between them, a quick glance sideways has provided him with a sight of a beaming smile and a fire deep inside Trevor's eyes that made his own lips twitch into a happy upwards bow. As they rolled into the checkout, Michael has noticed the world has changed as well. The depressing shade of green has somehow transitioned into a welcoming warm white; the shadows that they passed by on their way in suddenly bloomed into happy faces. The various packings of goods exploded in all the colours of the rainbow. As Michael and Trevor emerged into the darkness of the parking lot, ready to relive their revelation in thousands of ways, Michael has felt at peace with himself for the first time in forever. The days of the inner night were over.

[tv-fanfic-archive]

Meet Cute

Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader | Masterlist | Ao3

Reader meets a man in a bar, takes him back to her hotel room, sex ensures, and then love?? Maybe. Fem Reader, no y/n, no body descriptions

Word Count: 3105

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: ABO, omegaverse, smut, feral Bucky (for a bit), creampie, aftercare, alpha bucky, omega reader, scent blockers, soulmates, AFAB reader

The smokey interior of the bar was cloying your mind with the mulled scent of old wood and booze. It was dark, the only light in the room came from dim yellow light bulbs in dingy fixtures along the paneled walls. You sat at the bar, nursing a whiskey and eyeing the options of the bar. At 11 PM everyone who was gonna be here was here already. You resigned yourself to the greasy guy shooting looks over to you every couple minutes when a cold draft blew in from the door. A newcomer was tromping over to the bar. His shoulders were hunched and he had the hood of a grey denim jacket pulled up to hide his face. Your well-trained eye saw right through that jacket; he was jacked, you knew it from the way he walked. Your attention instantly dropped away from the greasy guy and laser-focused on this newcomer (his scent was all straight alcohol anyways, disgusting). As he sidled up to the bar you turned your seat away to show off the side of your legs, crossing one leg over the other, letting your dress slip up a bit to expose the top of your stockings. He glazed over at your movement but turned back to the bartender. He pulled off his hood and ordered.

“Johnny Walker Black, neat.” His voice was reedy, low, and utterly perfect. He took a seat two stools over from you and rested his elbows on the bartop. Before he had a chance to get his drink and leave, you hopped over the two stools separating you and set your own glass down with a clink on the bar next to him.

“Hey there, handsome.” the drinks you’d been nursing since 9 were flowing steadily through you, instilling you with false confidence. His eyes slid up your body until they reached your eyes, a bored look firmly in place there. He looked away. Hard to get? You could almost purr at the challenge he presented.

Now that you were closer to him you could see his face better. Good lord, he was beautiful, but in a tired sort of way where you knew he’d fought with life and barely came through kicking. His eyes were the blue of an ocean after a storm and just as deep. Short brown hair in messy tufts from the hood. He brushed a hand over it to smooth it down and you noticed that his left hand was made of shiny metal. Your eyes followed it back down, then dragged your eyes up his body. He had to be strong under all those layers. Dark jeans and his thick denim jacket were attempting to hide his muscles but the way the fabric of his jeans stretched against his thighs let you know all you needed to. With the proximity, you also caught a whiff of his scent, leather, coffee, and something unfamiliar, gunpowder maybe, but you couldn’t quite tell, but his scent was entirely too muted. It was hard to get a good read on him through smell; you couldn't even tell his designation. Maybe he was playing the same game as you, you thought. A new product marketed to hide designations just hit the stores recently and you’d be practically bathing in the stuff every night you went out to avoid overzealous alphas trying to get you home without a fight just cause you were an omega.

“Let me buy your drink.” Putting your arms up to rest on the bartop, leaning over a bit, giving the bartender, and hopefully your prey, a better look at your breasts. The bartender set his glass next to yours. You looked up to him through your eyelashes and told him to put it on your tab then return your full attention to your prey. He picked up the glass and slid his gaze to you once more. 

“Thank you,” he grunted

“So what brings you here?” You slipped your finger around the lip of your glass, keeping eye contact.

“Drinks.” One word kinda guy you guessed

“Nothing else?” Your pointed look was met with a quirked eyebrow and a chuckle

“Not originally, but things can change.” He sipped his whiskey, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

“Why don't we up the chances, huh?” With that, you knocked back the dregs of your own whiskey and motioned to the barman.

“Two zombies, please.” Then you said to the man “So what’s your name?”

“Call me Bucky.” He knocked back his own drink. You told him your name. The bartender sets two novelty skull-shaped cups in front of you. The tangy smell of pineapple and rum hits your nose as you bury your face in the cup. You were gunning for a fast buzz and you got it with this drink. 

Soon Bucky was leaning closer to you as you chatted to him. Another round and his hand was on your thigh, squeezing on and off as you continued talking. Your two swivel stools had you facing each other now. Your legs were tucked between his, his hand moved to your knee and your faces were close as if he couldn't hear you. You made a motion for another round but the bartender cut you off and asked for payment for your tab.

“I guess that's the sign to get out of here, huh?” You slid your card over the bar and leaned heavily into Bucky. He got off the stool and you followed with only a small stumble. He caught your waist and kept his arm around you as you pocketed your card. The two of you left the bar only to be confronted by an icy wind. You shivered in your thinner dress. When you’d left the hotel room today it was warm; you hadn't expected this. It seems Bucky had, however, as he shed his denim jacket and draped it over your shoulders. His muted scent hit you at almost the normal strength. Your cloudy mind wondered at that for a moment before moving on. 

“Such a gentleman,” You laughed 

“Guilty as charged.” he smiled and put out his arm for you to take “Where we going, sweetheart?”

“My hotel room.” Leaning heavily into his arm, you led him down the street to your hotel. 

----

At the door to your room, you fumbled with the keys in your cold hands. Bucky was pressed up against your back, mouthing over your neck, not helping your fight with the keys in the slightest. His lips dragged across the side of your neck, just barely grazing your gland, making you whine and close your eyes.

“I can't get the door open if you keep doing that, Bucky.” But there was no fight in your voice, with lips like those you’d let him do anything he wanted right now. But he left your neck and you were able to slide the key into the lock and open the door. Soon as the door shut behind you, Bucky pressed you up against it. Your mouths locked together in a down and dirty open mouth kiss. His metal hand was splayed out on your stomach while his other forearm pressed against the wood next to your head. You leaned back opening your mouth more to let his tongue stroke along your own. Separating for a moment, you panted, chest heaving. You dropped the jacket off your shoulders and pushed Bucky back. The room was so small that he stumbled back a few paced and hit the back of his knees on the bed, falling to sit on it. You walked up to him and turned around with your back facing him.

“Unzip me?” You felt his hands, one cold, one warm, on the skin of your back as he eased the zipper down to the small of your back. You shrugged off the dress and kicked it away, leaving you in your stockings and bra-panty set. Turning back around you straddled his thighs and ran your hands up into his hair, mussing it and pressing your mouth back to his. Your hands traveled down to his shoulders then scratched down his chest. He hissed at the tickle of your nails through his shirt. You grasped the bottom of his shirt and undershirt together and dragged them up, tossing both behind you. Oh yeah, your guess was dead on, he was jacked. Again you raked your nails over his chest, leaving red lines from his pecs to his defined v-line. You smashed your mouth back on his and pushed him down flat on your bed. He let out a huff as he bounced a bit before your arms caged his head in and he was locked back on your mouth. He brought his hands to your ass and pressed you down onto him. You moaned into his mouth and ground down to meet him, leaving a wet patch on the bulge of his black jeans. Slick was coating your thighs in response to all the action. In a moment of separation, Bucky scented the air and growled deep in his chest. You could feel it rumble against your chest, pressed so close against him as you were. Suddenly he rolled the two of you over so he was on top. He pushed you up the bed to hit your back against the pillows. His face met your stomach and he nuzzled up into your breasts. Quickly you fumbled at your bra strap, trying to get it off as quickly as possible. You shucked the bra and grabbed Bucky’s hair. He moved a hand up to cup one of your tits., rolling the flesh around in his hand and squeezing.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He groaned, his Brooklyn twang strong in those few words before his mouth was busied nipping at the flesh of your breasts, leaving little dark marks littered across your skin. Your head fell back and you whined. Your hands scratched at Bucky’s scalp, giving you his own hum of enjoyment at the feeling. Soon his mouth trailed down the valley of your breasts to the top of your panties. His metal hand picked at the elastic band and let it snap against your skin causing you to jolt at the sting.

“Can I get these off you, doll?

“Yes, please, just do it.” You breathed, your voice quiet and rough. He slid your panties down and off and buried his nose between your lips. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of his tongue slipping down to tease your hole. After circling for a moment, he zeroed in on your clit and sucked, leaving a little nip on it. Your hands shot down to grip white-knuckled at the roots of his hair. Bucky lifted his head from your center enough to speak, “You smell so good,” then dived back down, doubling his efforts and making your insides twist into knots. You could hardly feel your stomach at this point, it was a mess of taught, burning muscles that only one thing could defuse. Bucky’s metal arm came up around your thigh to part your lips, opening them up to an unfiltered onslaught by Bucky’s tongue. The metal was cold on your leg and you shivered. You brought a hand up to bite, desperately trying to ground yourself to something tangible while Bucky was blowing you out of this world. A few more seconds and the white-hot feeling in your stomach burst and your entire body went limp, a long whine escaped your throat and you shuddered uncontrollably. Your other hand pressed Bucky’s face to your pussy and you felt him run his tongue around your hole. Your grip released his head and he pushed himself up over your exhausted body. He caught your lips in his again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. When he pulled back you found yourself leaning forward, almost trying to follow his lips as he sat back on on the bed. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Of course I am.” you panted, still not having caught your breath from the back-to-back orgasm and heart-stopping kiss. “Are you okay?” your eyes wandered down to where he strained his jeans. 

“Course I am” He lied down next to you. When you caught your breath and you moved to get on top of him again. The skin of your thighs was sensitive against denim. You reached up and raked a hand through his hair, connecting your lips together once again, reaching down with the other hand, you popped the button on his jeans. He sighed against your lips. #Working his jeans down off his thick thighs, he lifted his hips to help. Now just in his boxer briefs, you could clearly see the main prize of the night. Making quick work of his underwear, you freed his member. He kicked off both garments and raised his hands to grip your hips, canting them towards the head of his dick. You dropped your hips in turn and rolled them, slipping the shaft between your lips. He groaned, falling back out of your reach. His abs clenched. Finally, torturously slowly you dropped down, impaling yourself on Bucky’s thick dick. At the same time both, you hissed at the stretch and another low growl resonated from Bucky’s chest. He shot up from his back as he bottomed out, cradling your back and holding you down. He snarled, nosing at your neck and thrusting sharply up at a nearly frantic pace. With the breath knocked out of you, your hands scrambled for purchase on his back. Nails dug in in long lines leaving welts up the length of his toned back. 

“Buckyyy” You whined “I can’t-” Before you could finish he pushed you down onto your back and hoisted a leg high over his hip, 

“You can.” He growled, steadying himself on his knees before driving into you with short, quick thrusts designed to reach the finish line as fast as possible. With every thrust, you felt the spark being reignited, but from Bucky’s every movement you could tell he’d reach it before you did until he reached his metal arm down to the wet mess of your front, rubbing decisively up and down. You threw your arms up around his neck, yanking him down to your face and smothering him in a furious kiss. Your tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting all the rum you’d shared before. 

Bucky’s thrusts got slower, but deeper, harder, shaking your body in his arms and striking up against your deepest parts. A dull ache rose to mingle with the tightness of your pelvis. He released your mouth and buried his face in your neck, licking and nipping at your skin. His hand on your clit quickened, the tightness reaching breaking point as he took one last deep thrust into you before stilling, releasing his cum as deep as he could within you. A sharp bite on your shoulder sent you spiraling into your own release. Soft kisses over the bite mark brought you down slowly from your high. The feeling of him pulling out brought you sharply back to reality. It felt like what you imagined a bottle of honey felt like when drizzled over a nice stack of pancakes. Bucky sat back on his heels to watch his cum ooze out of you. You just lied back, catching your breath and watching him watch you. 

After a bit, the afterglow was fading and leaving you feeling sticky and decidedly ready for at least a washcloth if not a full bath. You rose from the bed and, with Bucky trailing behind you, started up the hot water in the shower. 

From either the drinks or the sex, the two of you were too tired to do anything more than rinse off the sweat and any other fluids accumulated before collapsing into bed and falling asleep. 

#break

Sometime before the sun rose, you woke up. As you came to, you tried to extract yourself from Bucky’s arms that had wrapped you up in their tight embrace sometime while you slept. Still, in a haze of exhaustion, you decided waking him up wouldn't be worth the trouble; he’d roll over eventually and you get up and leave to catch your flight. But just as you’d vowed to stay awake, Bucky’s warm chest pressed up against your back rising and falling with his slow breaths lulled you back to sleep. 

When you awoke again it was with your face pressed against Bucky’s chest. His arms were around your back now and his hands were rubbing smoothly against your skin. He was awake. Fuck. You’d meant to sneak out before he woke up so you wouldn't have to deal with the morning after talk. But as soon as you really shook the fog of sleep from your mind and took a good breath you realized, his scent blockers had faded to nothing. A flood of his scent washed over you. Still strongly coffee and leather based, but without the blockers you could pick out the more subtle notes of it, vanilla and a splash of some flower you couldn't place, but the most damming and important facet of it all was the unmistakable scent of Alpha, but not just any alpha, no there was something different there you’d never smelled before, something you’d heard of. It was intoxicating and indescribable. You took a deep breath, pressing your nose hard against his neck on instinct. Mate. That had to be it, nothing else could be as captivating, as perfect. You withdrew from his neck and cast your eyes up to his, a shaft of light from the window falling perfectly over his face, lighting up his eyes from within. 

“D’you smell it?” he all but whispered, pushing you up his body to bring you to eye level. 

“We’re…” You trailed off

“Yeah.”

“I was supposed to go to Japan this morning.” His face fell, eyebrows furrowing. His arms lifted off your back and he moved away from you until you pressed your lips hard against the spot right at the junction of his neck and shoulder, where a mating mark would go. A groan ripped from his throat and his hands returned to clutch at your hips. 

“I’m gonna have to cancel it. D’you have a place in the city we can go?” You nipped at the spot

“Course. Got a place downtown. You can stay as long as you want, princess…”

“Mmm that sounds perfect” One last kiss to his gland and you pulled off. “We better get going then.” 

[jasontoddsbae]

Taste me

Request for: @illzarr

WARNINGS: seeeeeexxxxxxx. We love that good good shit. Especially if it was jason doing us.

You stood in front of your tall floor mirror in your bedroom you shared with jason admiring the reflection looking back at you. You were wearing white thigh high laced socks with cute bows on them at the top along with one of Jason's camel brown leather jackets. Your breasts were exposed as the zipper was down and your pussy wasn't covered with panties.

You decided to spice things up in the bedroom with Jason. Teasing him by wearing one of his precious jackets was one way to get him going but the idea you had in your mind after seeing a post about it on social media would have you at his mercy in seconds. Jason really shouldn't have left you at home while he went on a late night trip to the store for essentials.

Finishing up by curling your hair and putting bright red lip stick on you headed to the kitchen to grab your last needed item from the fridge. Whipped cream. Yes. Whipped cream

*time skips*

Jason tries unlocking your apartment door while juggling a few things in his hands while also holding a shopping bag filled with goods. After a few attempts he does and walks in to the hallway closing the door behind him with his foot.

"Daddy's home" he mutters to himself

He heads straight to the kitchen to put away the milk that you had ran out of and the cheese jason needed for the next days dinner. The other stuff was mainly bathroom items. Toothpaste. Mouthwash. bottled hand soaps and a packet of condoms that you both needed badly as you had used a box within a week.

He then heads to your and his bedroom where your bathroom is to finish unpacking but opens the door to a surprise on your shared bed. You clad in only laced thighs highs and his jacket, squirting whipped cream in your mouth while making eye contact with him. Jasons jaw drops and his icy blue eyes widened in shock, love, lust and desire.

"Hey jaybabe" you winked and bit your lip putting the whipped cream on your wooden nightstand

"B-baby? W-whats all this about. I-is th-that my jacket, princess?" He asked in an excited tone. Screw the stuff he dropped all over the floor. You were the only thing on his mind. He walked over to the foot of the bed and you slowly and seductively crawled to the end over to him. Your hands already smothering him

"Mm yea. If you be a good boy and do as I say, maybe I'll let you fuck me while I wear this jacket" you bit your lip while tugging at his untucked t-shirt and snaked your hands under it feeling the hard warm muscles underneath. He gulped. You lifted your head to look at his gorgeous features.

"Will you do as I say?" You pouted at him and he nodded his head excitedly

"Anything you want baby. What do you want first?" His eyes never leaving yours, you backed up away from him to sit on your knees on your sleeping side of the bed

"I want you to take all of your clothes off and lay on this bed for me" you said with a little giggle. He did exactly what you wanted. He wasted no time discarding his shirt and black fitted jeans and tossed them to somewhere behind him. He was left in a pair of black and white Calvin's. You eyed his growing budge and raised your eyebrows, he immediately got the message and threw his boxers along with the other clothing. He then joined you on the bed but before he could lay down he caught your body in arms and fell back while you were on top of him with your chests touching.

Jason lightly grabbed your face and pressed his soft but firm lips against yours. After a few soft kisses it got heavier. The next thing you knew you had straddled jason, his tongue was already fighting for dominance against yours while the pair of you moan in approval when your slick folds accidently grind against his thick and vainy cock.

"Mm jayyy" you released the kiss before things escalated to sex. You wanted to show his body some appreciation in a way you have never before. You pushed him back so he was laying down once more and getting off of him you reached over to the nightstand for the whipped cream again. You settled yourself in between legs after spreading his thick legs resting on your stomach so that your face was right above his erect penis.

"Make it quick, baby. I won't last long at the pace you're going" he whimpered. You kissed your way up to his rather big pecs. Kissing every little and cut on the way until you reached his neck. You gave him a light peck on his neck and a light peck turned in to several hickeys a few moments after.

"Are you ready, Jay?" You began lowering yourself again and shook the scream before taking the cap off

"Yeah baby. I'm always ready" and with that, you sprayed squirted cream all over his very define 8 pack. He let out a little shiver at the usual feeling but shrugged it off as soon as he felt the wetness and softness of your tongue start to lick away the cream. You gave his abs a hard long lick feeling the lumpy muscles under your tongue made you blush deeply. You then started to swirl your tongue over each muscle Swirling the cream and picking it up with your tongue.

"Are you enjoying yourself, baby?" You looked up at him, mouth nit leaving his body and you wink. Next came soft sucks. You were marking him up with hickeys! Or as you liked to called it..marking your territory. He let out a quiet moan enjoying the feeling of your lips all over him. Once you were satisfied with the marks you had left on jason Todd's body you sat up on your knees in between his legs and gave him a grin. He gave you a mischievous smirk.

You then eyed has ranging boner and bit your lip once more, you stared at it and then back up him. After exchanging glances your hand went to his cock and gripped it lightly. Jason's body jolted at the contact in the place he needed to be touched the most. You slowly and teasingly pumped your hand to the base of his shaft and brought it back up so you could place your thumb over his Swollen tip smearing the pre cum that was already dripping out of the slit.

"Fuck" he let out a small moan "baby please. Don't tease me" he said in a shaky breath. You then pumped your hand down his shaft again and back up and back down slowly but you gripped his cock a little harder making him release another needy moan. You continued the same movements quickening up your pace and thats when you heard jason starting to pant heavily and groaning in pleasure.

"Princess. Shit babyy. Please. No more. Let me fuck that pussy" blush spread across your cheeks and nose at his beg and thats when you took your hand from his cock. You stood yourself on your knees and started crawling up towards him so that your pussy was hovering over his sticky abs. You were sure that he could feel your juices drip on to him from how wet you were. The thought made you giggle again. You then leaned over and whispered in his ear..

"Take me then, birdy. Take me raw. I want to feel your cock twitch inside of me while you cum" his eyes widen and he takes his large hand to his mouth and he spits on it and rubs his lubricated fingers against your already soaked pussy causing you to moan at the contact.

You fastened you legs comfortable against his hips, took his cock in to your hand and slowly sunk on to it. You bothered shared a moan at the feeling of you him being inside of him and you begin to move your hips slowly up and back down allowing yourself to adjust to his massive cock once more.

"Y/N, baby you are so fucking tight" his moaned placing his on your hips and digging his nails in to your flesh as you begin to pick up your pace

"Fuck jason, you're so deep" you groaned. You then planted your hands on his chest and began to fuck yourself on his cock harder making sure to reach the base before lifting your back up

"Baby fuck. Ride me harder" and with that you fucked yourself on his cock at a fast pace, the sounds of moans and slapping skin could be heard probably from the neighbours about and below you. You weren't planning to be quiet any time soon. Your hips grinded down against his cock making him hit that delicious spot inside of you causing you to moan louder

"Aaaah fuuuck jason!! Right fucking there" you shouted fucking his cock. Jason grabbed your ass and gave it a hard spank before taking your hips again and began to piston his hips causing his cock to rapidly fuck you. His balls slapping your skin in the process

"Yes yes yes yes baby right fucking there!!! Don't stop!" You screamed. Your cheeks turned red and your eyes started to water from the over stimulation. He didn't stop fucking you. He was like a gun being fired. He didn't stop.

"Fuuuck baby girl you like that, huh? Your liked being fucked by the red hoods cock huh?" He moaned out. You were sure his grip on your hips were going to leave bruises but you didn't care. The pleasure was all worth it.

"Yes baby. Yes jay!! Please! Oh my god I'm gonna cum!" You screamed and he spanked your ass making you jolt. He then stopped his thrusts and lifted you both so that you were now laying on your back and he was sitting on his knees but hunched over your frame so that his face was nuzzled in your neck and began to suck while he slipped himself out of you and fucked himself back in again and immediately hit that spot by his deep he was already

"Please jay. Please make me cum baby" you begged and he smirked once more. He sat up and placed his large under on you arched back and started fucking you again causing you both to moan and grown. He didn't keep the thrusts slow and gentle, he fucked his way in to your stomach!

"Fuck!!! You're so fucking deeeeeep!" He fucked your cunt harder and his pants where getting heavy. He was moaning more meaning he was close to cumming. He thrusted in to you as fast as he could and that send you over the edge. Your back arched more, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your screams were louder and you tore the blanket from your bed

"Jjjjjaaaaaaasonnnnnnn! Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!!! I'm cumming!!!!!" He moaned at the tightness of your cunt and at the juices your were coating his swollen cock in. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm to reach his own peak and his hips jolted and his cock pulsed and twitched inside of you

"Hhhnnnggg oooh shiiiiiit y/n. Me too baby" he released ropes of his thick cum inside of you. Both of you panted heavily like dogs as you came down from your highs.

Once your breathes had evened out he slowly pulled out, knowing that your pussy would we sensitive. You let out a very light moan feeling empty. You felt his load drip out of you and down to your asshole. He leaned over you once more to claim your lips in a sweet and loving kiss. The kisses you always had after sex to show each other how much you love them.

"Come on baby. Let's get cleaned up and let get some rest" he smiled sweetly at you and looked over to the bathroom door

"Ok..jay?" You called in a sweet and sleep filled voice

"Yeah baby girl?" He replied back

"I love you" you smiled as you said

"I love you too"

I need Jesus already at this point

[babyboy-cody]

‘ ‘ chapter | 01 ’ ’

complex desires. ( prologue ) ( masterlist )

SUMMARY: It’s the first week of classes after winter break, but you’re not exactly used to seeing new faces - teachers and students in between.

WARNINGS: explicit language, mentions of mental disorders, anxious thoughts, anxiety attack

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

NOTES: i’m currently writing this chapter while drinking a big ass mug of hot cocoa. also, hunter’s pronouns are they/them! this series is one i’m most excited for. hope you kiddies enjoy <3

It was still early when the clouds gave off their rain to the grass and trees, when the road became alive with more splashes than your eyes could appreciate. Yet together they brought such a soothing sound, a natural melody every bit as beautiful as a mother's soulful hum. You felt each splash that touched your skin, watching as your cardigan become a deeper, more rocky hue. It was as if earlier the street had been a matte photograph, only to be washed as glossy as any magazine page.

Each raindrop is a kaleidoscope, if people could only see more closely. You wonder as you walk how it would be to stop time, to suspend this watery gift and peek through each one. Perhaps it would be fun to sit inside those raindrops and take that gravity propelled ride to the earth, as you imagine it you feel your inner self laughing – a little at the crazy daydream and a little at your own silliness. You see the rain beads upon the cars, upon each leaf and washing your outstretched fingers. Soon they will pull together, forming the puddles, opening up a whole new avenue of rain-related fun. Perhaps it isn't normal to love a rainy day so much, but who cares about normal anyway? You’re pretty sure "normal" is a made up thing.

Upon the umbrella come the playful sounds of dancing drops, and from it's rim comes the sight of their more relaxed cousins, dripping as if their soul purpose was to bring a sense of ease and calm to the day. And as the rain became more intense, it began to soak the bottom of each dark blue jean leg, deepening the denim to a stronger hue, bringing your brown boots to a glossy water-shine, becoming a kind of natural cocoon.

Each raindrop is a doorway into nature's heart, an invitation of sorts, a request for your soul to rejoin creation. In the rain there is a serenity, a sense of peace that offers to resonate with the peaceful elements of the soul. Walking among those drops is your meditation, a way to fully become present in the moment, a way to feel free.

There was a vibration coming to life in the back pocket of your jeans, cutting you out of your peaceful daydream in the rain. You stepped to the side to allow a cyclist to pass by and gave him a brief smile when he nodded his head in thanks. When you pulled out your phone to read the contact, you instantly smiled when seeing Mickey’s name on the screen.

“Okay, first off, hello. Second off, where the hell are you? Me and Hunter – okaayy – Hunter and I have been in the cafeteria since 7:15 in the goddamn morning,” she immediately went off as soon as you put the phone to your ear. “Also, did you take your meds today? My alarm went off as a reminder.”

“First off, hi back, Mick. Second off, it’s been 15 minutes and I’m five minutes away from the school. It’s fine if we don’t have breakfast today just once,” you laughed as you heard her scoff. “And thirdly, yes mom, I did take my meds. I actually have to get another refill for my BPD meds. Thank you for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, you better hurry. We have the last of your favorite yogurt and Hunter’s close to eating the damn thing,” you heard Mickey laugh as she shushes her significant other. “Also, be careful coming around the usual entrance. The school is doing some bogus construction to add a statue of the principal.”

“You’re shitting me!” You exclaimed, earning a dirty glare from a tiny senior citizen as she slowly walks passed you with her small cane. “What the hell did this prick do to earn that? Also, can you grab me a fruit cup too? I’ve been craving kiwi’s for some odd reason.”

“Well, he’s wicked rich and can basically do anything in this school and get away with it, literally. And there’s no fruit cups today, but there’s a bag of sliced apples and tangerine slices,” Mickey told you as she huffed, which you assume is her getting out of her seat to go back to the assortment of breakfast foods. “Ooh, there’s bagels too. I think they just added these.”

“Jesus Christ, this statue is stupid as hell,” you groaned and stood in front of the half built statue, your principal’s name on a gold plated plaque attached to the marble. “This guy really needs an ego boost, huh? And just tangerine slices then. I’m heading inside.”

“Alright, see you soon, baby doll.” She annoyingly kisses into the phone as you snorted and rolled your eyes at her antics.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket, you stood outside the entrance doors and shook the leftover raindrops from your yellow umbrella before closing it. You inhaled the fresh rain water for one last time before grasping onto the freezing cold and disgustingly wet doorknob and pulling it open to head inside. There was a small litter of students here and there; some reading new announcements on the bulletin board in the main hall; some sitting in the lounging chairs with laptops or textbooks open on their laps; some sitting on the ground with a half empty bottle of water beside their laps and phones in their hands, headphones in their ears. You terribly, annoyingly, and oddly missed this. You missed the bustle of students laughing and running down the halls. You missed it all, even if it has been two weeks.

You hear loud chatter coming from just ahead, so you know you’re about to enter the cafeteria area. Just as you’re about to do so, you stop in your tracks in front of a bulletin board. There were a few posters for new clubs, as well as study groups, upcoming announcements, room changes, and more. But one that really struck out to you was a new story writing group, specifically for writers or English majors. You felt a burst of excitement spread throughout your chest and settle into the pit of your stomach. You made sure to take a quick photo of the sheet beforr moving on into the cafeteria.

Almost immediately, you spotted Hunters straight platinum blonde hair and fiery streaks on one side while the other was icy blue. Sitting in front of them was Mickey, her hair curly and unruly, making you wonder if she rolled out of bed, threw some clothes on, and called it a day. You felt your cheek mucles twitch as your lips pulled up into a bright smile. Hunter was the first to notice you. They looked up at you passed Mickey’s shoulder and smiled so brightly that it made you reciprocate. They adorned bright orange eyeshadow with white eyeliner, making their eyes pop out even more. You loved how they didn’t cake on makeup, they kept it simple, yet so drop dead gorgeous.

“There she is, the man of the hour,” they announced and got up from their seat to pull you in for a warm, tight hug. “I missed you so much. I’m so sorry for not messaging you the entire break. We didn’t have any service whatsoever.” There was a crestfallen look on Hunter’s face and you held their cheeks so they wouldn’t look away.

“Look at me, don’t stress about it, okay? Did you at least have fun?” They nodded with a pout. You grinned and gave their forehead a kiss before pulling them in for another hug.

“Okay, first you’re late. And now you’re stealing my person. I see how it is,” Mickey smirked as you gave her the bird behind Hunter’s back as you both pulled away from the hug. “Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Michelle,” you responded in the same tone as you sat in an empty chair around the table. “Give me my tangerine, please.” She passed you the small cup of tangerine slices with a grin when you began eating them.

“You been eating three times a day?” She asked you, looking at you through her mane of curls rather than pushing her hair away. You shrugged and kept your eyes on the half empty cup in your hands. “Y/N..”

“I’m doing it little by little, Mick. And I’m starting to drink water too,” you blushed and laughed softly when her and Hunter began praising you. Praise was something you weren’t used to, but hearing it every now and then really gave you butterflies. “It’s nothing..”

“Are you kidding me?” Hunter laughed and reached over to lay a hand over yours. “This is amazing. This is progress and we’re both so very proud of you.”

“You’ve come a long way,” Mickey lightly bumped your shoulder with her knuckles as Hunter pulled away. “You should do a meal plan like I did when I had to get my weight back up, so that way you don’t forget to eat three times a day.”

“I don’t know.. I don’t exactly have the funds to buy a lot of groceries. I had to use over $100 of my food stamps cause almost everything in my kitchen was old,” you huffed and popped another tangerine slice into your mouth. “Plus, I’ve been busy with finding a job and paying for my therapy appointments and doing school work, and it’s all so fucking overwhelming.”

The first bell rang, signaling students to begin their walk to class with only a few more minutes to spare. You grabbed your shoulder bag and stood beside Mickey while she held onto Hunter’s hand. The three of you passed by a swarm of students; freshman’s and sophomores running by to get to the lecture halls early; juniors having their books and laptops already out and pressed to their chests; seniors loitering in the halls with their friends. Thankfully, you, Hunter, and Mickey had your first English class together.

“How about this?” Mickey began. “Hunter and I will help pay for your groceries.” She hushed you as you began to lightly protest. “Listen, you already got a lot on your plate. I’d be a really shitty best friend if I allowed you to deal with all that. So every week, we’re gonna swing by your place to drop off some stuff, okay? I’ll create a meal plan for you with your favorites, so that way we’re taking that worry for money off your back.”

“Mick, you don’t have to do that for me. Like I said, I’ll find a way,” you mumbled and shrugged as you walked up the long staircase to head up to the lecture halls. “I couldn’t do that to you guys.”

“Y/N,” Hunter stopped you three in the middle of the hallway. “We care about you and we don’t want you going down that negative route alone. We both have jobs and enough money to cover Mickey and I, and it’ll seriously make me the happiest if you let us do this, please.”

“Two more minutes until class begins,” the voiceover on the speaker spoke.

“Fine,” you sighed, feeling a smile pull your lips as you all continued walking to the English room. “I love you both. And I’m very grateful for you to do this for me.”

“We know,” Mickey told you as she kissed your cheek obnoxiously, causing you to groan and Hunter to laugh. “But in all seriousness, don’t be a stranger to asking, okay?”

You nodded and gave her a reassuring smile as you made your up the steps to your seats in the bottom middle row. Mickey sat in between you and Hunter as more students filled the class. There was light chatter and soft clatter as seats were pulled down and the folding desks were pulled up. You set your bag between your feet, being cautious of not getting it dirty from your boots. Pulling out your spiral notebook that had four sections, you neatly wrote the course name, your name, and the date. Nervously clicking your pen, you tried to block out the noise that had started to get a little too loud. Nibbling on your bottom lip to distract yourself, your feet began tapping on its own while you tapped your pen on your book. Mickey and Hunter were having a conversation of their own, so they didn’t notice the early signs of a small anxiety attack.

An invisible hand clasps over your mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierces your heart, unloading in an instant. You feel your ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate your lungs. Your head is a carousel of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing your mind into blackness. You want to run; you need to freeze. Sounds that were near feel far away, like you’re no longer in the body that sits paralyzed in the cold seat. Your breath comes out in rapid, shallow breaths as you shake your head at yourself.

“No, no, no,” you harshly whisper as your bobbing knee gets almost frantic.

You felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in your abdomen. Tension grew your her face and limbs, your mind replaying the last attack. You held onto the sides of your head, your elbows digging into the hardness of your desk. Your only movement was the trembling of your limbs and salty tears darkening your sleeves. There you stayed, unaware of the numerous eyes watching you until Mickey turned and noticed your frantic state.

“Shit,” she hissed and slung her arm across your desk as the other wrapped around your shoulders. “I’m here, Y/N. It’s okay.. sshhh.. I’m right here.” She noticed a few students staring, to which she narrowed her eyes and snarled, “What the fuck are you looking at, dipshits?!” They immediately looked away after being caught. She turned her attention back on you. “What’s going on, huh?” Her voice was soft and soothing as she smoothed her hand down your hair.

“It-It’s so.. loud,” you hiccuped and covered your face even more when a sob escaped your lips, spit flying onto your hands as you felt your neck, cheeks, and ears heat up out of embarrassment and shame. “I can’t stop it, Mick. I-I can’t!”

Hunter sat on the other side of you, reaching down to get your back, shuffling their hand inside to pull out your earplugs and inhaler. They handed the earplugs fo Mickey while pressing the opening of the inhaler to your lips. “Come on, babe,” they quietly told you and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ears, lightly blowing on your flushed skin to cool it down. “There we go,” they gently said when you took two deep puffs of your inhaler while Mickey made sure your earplugs were snug inside your ears. You felt your lungs open up as the cold, bitter medicine settled on your tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and shook your head, wiping away the last of your tears. You sniffled and looked at Mickey and Hunter. “I-I don’t know what happened.. it just... happened.”

“It’s always unexplained, but don’t be sorry for something you can’t control, okay?” Mickey told you firmly while making sure you were looking into her eyes. “This doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

Hunter smiled and sat your bag back between your feet before moving to their seat next to Mickey. All the students had settled down, their conversations now a quiet murmur. You felt relieved as you pulled your earplugs out and slid them inside your protective case, making sure the lid was closed tight before shoving it into your bag. Mickey kept an eye on you the entire time, making sure no one triggered you. She sat with an elbow resting on the back her chair with her legs lightly spread.

“You’re man-spreading,” you quietly told her, laughing quietly when she flipped you off.

Suddenly, the metal doors opened and a man hurriedly walks in with an expensive looking leather messenger back over his shoulder. Your lips parted and you sat up straight in your seat when he gave the class a guilty smile. You’ve never seen him in the school. Not even before break. He must’ve been in a different department and just got transferred to the English center. He deeply intrigued you. You noticed the other girls in the class twirling their hair in a cliché way with the tips of their pens between their teeth. He wore all black, and it was so very different compared to what other professors wore. There was no sweater vest or button up shirt. He just wore a comfortable and soft looking black sweater with black jeans and black boots. His dirty blonde - almost brunette - hair was perfectly styled. He looked devastatingly handsome.

“Hello, my name is Professor Shepherd and I’m going to be your English teacher for the rest of the semester. Professor Winifred recently had her baby during winter break and shall be back for the next semester,” he gave another knee-weakening grin as he clapped his hands together. “Shall we get started?”

[the-slasher-files]

DIFFERENT PREDATORS - chapter 2 

INCLUDES ANDREI KULOKOVA x XAVIERA LAH-MO

Literally the perfect pair in slasher heaven, or I guess hell. This chapter gives you just more Andrei backstory and a look into his strengths and weaknesses. This little kitten is breaking him down, slowly but surely. If you haven’t already, check out part one.... enjoy 🔪💕

Please go read the chapter from @horrorslashergirl oc: Xaviera’s perspective linked HERE

MASTERLIST

Andrei leaned his head against the wooden headboard, closing his eyes, trying to just still his always active mind. Breathing deeply in and out around his cigarette that hung lazily from his mouth, ashes threatening to fall and burn his naked chest. 

Turning his head to the window he just watched the snow fall hard, whipping around by the careless harsh mountain winds with sharp icy eyes. He could smell something good beyond the tabacco smoke littering the bedroom air; it was warm and hardy, something from home perhaps. 

With that the woman walked into the bedroom again, carrying a tray of food like she said she would bring him and putting it on the nightstand. Two bowls of stew, again one of his favorites. The little lady was tugging at his tough soul through his taste buds. To his surprise she grabbed one of the bowls and sat in the old arm chair near the end of the bed.   

Andrei took the bowl placing it in his lap, continuing to watch her as she spoke “It’s not poisonous if that’s what you’re wondering. If I wanted you dead I would have left you to the wild animals in the snow.” He gave a huff at her fierce personality, it was endearing, cute even.

Looking down at the bowl Andrei took a generous spoonful, closing his eyes savoring the rich flavors of the vegetables and rabbit meat; reminding him of home and his mothers recipes. 

“I’ve been through worse, myshka.” The wolf told her with a smirk. Letting silence fall, and just listening to the cold wind howl, and tree branches brushes along the windows. He didn’t often find having company nice, but there was something about the stranger across from him that he enjoyed.   

“Are you going to tell me now who you are and don’t play that stubborn game of telling me a false name, Andrei Kulokova. It’s not that hard to read your dog tags.” She spoke with confidence, not scared at all by him. Andrei’s icy blue eyes widened a little by having his full name called, he didn’t hear it often for no one really knew him, but it sounded so sweet coming from her lips even if her words were laced with venom.  

“If you know my name is only fair to know yours.” Andrei glared harshly, not wanting her to see a trace of his enjoyment, something he was skilled at.  

“Xaviera Lah-Mo.” She answered. Not an American name but something else, from somewhere that was unfamiliar to the mercenary. Andrei finished the warm stew, enjoying every last drop and placing the empty bowl on the nightstand. 

Huffing he decided to try out his bandaged and twisted ankle. The solider had been through some of Russia’s deadliest undercover missions, he had been shot, stabbed, you name it; a twisted ankle wasn’t going to hold him down. Sitting up letting his feet hit the cold hardwood, he felt a small gentle hand push on his broad scarred chest.

Looking at her he glared a stony cutting gaze but she challenged his perfectly back. “Your ankle is twisted, you need to rest.” her order made Andrei raise his brow.  

“What is it your business if I twist my neck?” Placing a big, rough hand on her arm gently, a silent warning for her not to pull a stupid stunt on him. “I know you care too much for me, but try not fall in love.” the wolf smirked flashing his canines, cockiness coating him like an armor. 

Xaviera just rolled her blue eyes, making him huff a silent laugh “Don’t get all high and mighty. I don’t want to drag your stubborn self upstairs…. again.” his hand tightened slightly on her small arm, eyes growing dark  “And don’t make me kick your ass out. There’s a blizzard outside and there are worse killers that I’m sure will love an injured prey.” 

The wolf laughed a sinister deep laugh, eyes devouring the small woman in front of him, inching his face closer with a deadly grin. The battle persisted between the leopard and the wolf. A dangerous game more so of mental strength, each predator wanting to conquer the other.  

“So much fire in such a little frame, darling…” he mused, lightening up his cigarette, blowing smoke in her face, making her venomous eyes intensify. “I like that” Andrei’s grasp becomes tighter on Xaviera’s arm, loose enough for her to escape but hard enough for her to still struggle. She became quietly flustered under his hand that oozed power, she tried to hide it but the solider was trained to read the smallest of body signals. 

“You know… Some of the deadliest animals are very small.” She whispers almost in a hiss, sounding like a cat ready to lunge. Andrei had experiences with small but deadly predators. He grew up with one, and she gave him his largest scar to prove it.  “Don’t make me scratch your eyes out.” the white-haired woman warned him, tugging her arm from his hold but without success.  

The cigarette from between his lips hangs lazily, while he smirks her way. “Come and try it, little kitten.” and there it was again, the slow blush creeping up her neck and onto her fair cheeks. He was breaking her slowly.

“I’m not little.” She spat back, making him raise his brow again, looking her up and down with a little disbelief.

“Have you looked in mirror?” Andrei huffs and pulls her closer to him, imagining a sick fantasy that plagues him daily. “Your neck will be so small under my hand as I squeeze… your trashing will be like nothing to me, little kitten.” He spoke in a deep growl, watching her face form into a snarl, making the Russian smile sickly, canines peaking through open lips once again.

“If you touch my neck I am gonna castrate you, doggie.” The wolf only mere inches away from her face, one of his large and rough hands moves to gingerly run along her thigh, watching her every movement. She was trying to control her breathing, trying not to show the predator any signs of weakness but it was failing. Andrei saw the kitten breaking and it made him only want her more.

“Oh, you would love to get that close to me, wouldn’t you… that intimate.” he moved his hand from her arm to run the back of it along her blushing hot cheek  “You don’t have to ask, baby girl, you know where to find me.” Andrei removes his hands with a little shove. Grabbing the hot earl grey tea from the nightstand, sipping it and holding eye contact. The wolf liked to play with his prey. Toy with it like throwing a mouse around by the tail.  

Xaviera snorted at his naturally sexual ways. She didn’t know just how much the desire was burned within him from his past. “Keep dreaming, asshole. One more of that and I am gonna kick your butt in the snow.”  

Andrei scoffed “Baby, I’m from Russia, the snow and cold is no bother to me.” he tells her with a cocky smirk. The wolf knew this was a different cold than the Russian tundra, and he would be stupid to be out in these mountains for too long, but it didn’t matter, he was winning this battle with the small woman.

“You’re infuriating.” Andrei smiles fully, a rare sight, as she just marched out of the room and he heard her go down stairs.  

The stew feeling warm in his belly and a win of a social battle under his belt, he decided to take a nap, aware that there was a predatory lurking in the cottage Andrei knew he was safe, even if she did grab one of his knives and decided to stab him he knew that wasn’t her style. She was a long range hunter by the fact she had a sniper rifle and her inability to ever get away from him. He could sleep now. Memories of trauma and delusions fell from his brain as the wolf closed his eyes relaxing fully.

------------------------------

Andrei had been awake for about an hour now, just tossing and turning, he was never a good sleeper but especially tonight. He couldn’t seem to get the girl out his mind. The wolf tried to push it off as she was just small, weak and kind of like his sister, so maybe it was his brotherly protection showing it’s head, but laying there longer, his icy cold stare burning in the ceiling above him, Andrei knew this was more. Xaviera seemed to seep into his tough core, a place for only two other women in his life, one that died by his own hands, while the other left him and would occasionally visit him only to almost kill him.  

Grunting and running his hands through his light brown hair and onto his scarred face, Andrei decided to retry his ankle without the small women being there to stop him. He hissed a little putting the full weight of the 200 plus pound predator on it, but he had been through much worse pain. Leaving the bedroom and making it down the stairs carefully, he saw her. She was curled up like a little kitten on a white fluffy blanket in front of the roaring fire. Walking over he quietly towered over her, a wolf watching the prey, watching every little scrunch of her face and every twitch of her hand. Xaviera was beautiful.

The Russian man turned to walk to the maps he had seen displayed on the table but something stopped him, tilting his back to the girl just thinking. The wolf wanted to leave her there, suffering on the hardwood, but Andrei wanted something else. As if her soul knew Andrei was watching with caring ice blue eyes Xaviera let out a small whine. 

“Fuck” He groaned, the soft spot for women threatening to kill him once again. Andrei picked her sleeping frame up in his large arms with ease. She was like a doll to him.

So perfect.... One to take home...

Hobbling a little he made it upstairs, gently placing her in the bed that she let him use. Andrei observed her once more, the wolf nipping at his neck to grab the throat that was displaying her pluse to him, it was just so beautiful, the tendons, the muscles, but Andrei closed his eyes, balling his fists and clenching his jaw. He roughly turned and walked away closing the door behind him. 

Looking over the cottage he found her maps, with little notes written small within the margins, and her arrows pointing to potential hot spots for the poachers. Curiously he looked them over, seeing if she had more information than he did. The solider within him always focused on the hunt. Then he saw the glint of the familiar metal shining in the low light. Grinning Andrei picked up his favorite knives skillfully twirling them around in his hands, but something made him stop. He heard a soft wail coming from the bedroom, and his grasp on the knives turned into a white-knuckle grip instinctively.

The wolf moved quickly across the living room and up the stairs. Wails turned into screams and his heart started to pound against his chest, breathing picked up at the thought of someone else potentially being in the cottage, sneaking past the skilled solider. 

Barging into the bedroom scanning the surroundings, it was just him and the girl. No poachers or other hunters. Just the two predators, alone. 

The wolfs eyes were sharp and cutting, looking at Xaviera who was on the floor, cowering in the corner, just a girl, not a predator any longer. Reminding him of his sister, shaking and hyperventilating, eyes scared and broken. A look he knew all too well. What demons lurked in the night had come for her and it tugged on his cold heart to see anyone go through that. Everyone had a past. Everyone had trauma.

Andrei laid the knives down on the tangled sheets of the bed, walking slowly towards her “sssshh... sssh... myshka” he whispered, bending down in front of her. Eyes still wild he needed to pull her out of this. “hey, hey... sssh... you’re fine” Andrei didn’t reach for her but just waited, allowing her to take as much time as she needed. “Little one, sssh” observing her he settled on the floor and surprisingly Xaviera reached for Andrei, clutching his shirt and resting her forehead against his chest. 

His icy blue eyes widened at the sudden show of affection, but he welcomed it. Carefully placing unsure hands around her shaking frame, feeling her trying to even the breathing that was harshly stuck in her throat. This took him back to Russia, living in a dangerous home, comforting his sister under the moonlight from her night terrors, trying to desperately protect her from the brutal world they grew up in.  Xaviera pulled away suddenly, uncomfortably. Taking a deep breath in and closing her eyes.

“It was nothing.” Xaviera told him in a quiet voice, exiting the bedroom and going downstairs. 

Andrei sat there for a moment, breathing in deeply remembering the harsh reality of the world and how it twisted and fucked over the people within it, beating down even the strongest predators at times. He stood tall, grabbing the knives and sitting on the bed, absent-mindedly playing with them as he watched the snow fall in the night. 

Two predators broken within, made tough with claws and teeth to present and hide the vulnerability under the skin.                                

[silverbyeol]

Mittens | Peter Parker

Summary: (Y/n) walks around New York on Christmas Eve, thinking back to when she was a teenager in love.

Author’s Note: I got this idea when I heard ‘Mittens’ by Carly Rae Jepson! This is my first ____ x reader story on Tumblr, would love feedback (: 

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning... Angst and mentions of dead

*Anything in italics is a flashback (memory)*

18 years old is too young to die.

Today was Christmas Eve and I was back home from university for holiday break. Coming back to New York has been hard, especially since it has been almost a year since the incident-

“(Y/n)? Are you coming?” came my moms voice from the doorway of my room. My head snapped up, breaking me from my trance. I sent her a smile and a small nod, “We’re all waiting for you,” she finished with soft eyes and went back to the dining room where guests sat at a grand table, enjoying Christmas dinner.

I stood up from my childhood twin sized bed and looked around my old room. Nothing much changed since I last was at home. My old bed still had girly bed sheets and an old princess comforter lay neatly across the mattress. The walls were painted a light pink that seemed to fade more and more daily. A desk stood across from the bed and on top of it, lay clutter items. They all seemed boring, but one item, which caught my attention almost immediately. It was placed face down being illuminated brightly by the moonlight. I walked closer to inspect the object. It was a photo of Peter and I. A tear fell down from my eyes as I remembered…

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

“Pete!” I yelled as I let myself into his apartment.

“Hey, (Y/n),” I heard Peter’s aunt call out.

“Hey, May!” I said and smiled at her. It was new years eve today and May was dressed in an evening dress and had her makeup done- obviously heading out for the night.

“Peter is getting ready- PETER! (Y/N) IS HERE!” she yelled for Peter, “You look so cute, (Y/n)! Where are you two heading off too?” she asked. I looked down at my silver sequin mini dress and smiled.

“My best friends party! We’re going to pick up Ned on the way over,” I smiled and answered her question.

“Hey, (Y/n),” I heard a male voice and turned my attention towards Peter’s room, “you ready?” he asked, standing in the middle of his rooms’ doorway.

“I’ve been ready, Parker, just waiting on you,” I said and walked over to give him a hug. There was suddenly a flash and a squeal making Peter and I look at May.

“What? You two looked so cute. You’ll thank me later for this photo,” she said and we rolled our eyes at her

…

“Let me see, dork,” I teased as I looked at Petes phone. It was the photo that May snapped of us earlier in the night.

“We look good,” Peter commented, making me inspect the photo. Our faces were hidden, buried in each other’s necks, and our arms were grabbing at each other's backs, as if we relied on one another to stay afloat.

“You can barely see our faces,” I giggled.

The photo held so many emotions between two teens who had no idea they were in love with one another…

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

“(Y/n)? How do you like Princeton?” asked the familiar voice of Peter’s aunt, May. I looked up from my food trying to not make eye contact.

“It’s going pretty well,” I replied vaguely. There were so many thoughts and emotions running through me. I needed fresh air, “I’m sorry. I need to excuse myself,” I said and stood up from the table, all eyes on me. Before my parents could call after me, I grabbed my coat from the closet and ran out of the building.

I looked around the dark streets of New York and, absentmindedly, started walking towards nothing in particular. Hearing and seeing May after all that happened was overwhelming. It’s been almost one year since Peter Parker, my boyfriend, died. It was a sudden death, in which he was outnumbered and outskilled.

I stopped in my tracks and looked into a dark alleyway.

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

It was a sunny mid-afternoon. Everyone was busy with either being at work or at school, so the streets of New York were, for the most part, empty. I was walking home from an early school dismissal; headphones in my ears blasted a pop song, a lollipop was in my mouth, and my school uniform was unbuttoned, revealing a band t-shirt underneath. My eyes were locked onto my phone's screen as I swiped through Instagram, liking a bunch of my friends’ photos. I feel a tap on my shoulder and stop in my tracks. I pull out an earphone and make eye contact with a stranger.

“Sorry, Miss. I was wondering if you have a dollar to spare? I’m really hungry…” he trailed off. I scanned him up and down, he looked dirty and his clothing was all torn up.

“Sure…” I said, feeling slightly sad about his situation. I reached into my backpack and pulled my wallet out, I was about to hand the man a twenty dollar bill, so that he could get himself a warm meal when suddenly my wallet was snatched out of my hand. I looked up and saw the same man running away, my wallet in his hands

“HEY!” I yelled and took off chasing after him, which was a mistake. He turned into an alley and as soon as I was out of the view of people, four other guys came out of the shadows and circled around me.

“She’s just a high school student,” one of them said angrily and shot daggers into the homeless looking man.

“Is okay. We can use her as ransom…” another guy trailed off.

“Or maybe even have some-”

“Or maybe, I can kick your criminal asses,” came a voice from above. We all looked up to see a tall slim figure. He wore a red and blue onesie making him instantly recognizable. It was Spider-man.

“Oh yeah? Whatcha gonna do, huh? Tie us up with your webs?” asked the first guy.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he said and all five guys were suddenly stuck to a wall with white web like material. Spider-man jumped in front of me making my eyes go wide.

“Are you okay, Miss?” he asked. His voice was calm and collected, opposite of the voice he used when talking to the men.

“I don’t even know what happened, it all went down so fast…” I mumbled looking at his mask, trying to read his expression, “Thank you, Spider-man,” I said coherently and smiled.

“It’s my job,” he said and shrugged his shoulders. Without thinking I slowly reached for his mask, “What are you doing?” he asked slightly panicked.

“Thanking you…” I said. His mask was quickly pulled up to his nose, revealing his chin and lips. Without thinking, I stood up on my tippy toes and gave his lips a chaste kiss. In the distance sirens were heard making the hero pull away.

“Th-thanks for the k-kiss, I-I’ll see you around,” he stuttered and shot up onto the sky, leaving my grinning.

Spider-man just saved me and I kissed him....

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

I smiled looking down the alleyway. It was the first time I met Peter and the first time I kissed him as well. A bittersweet memory. I kept walking looking up at the sky, thinking back to how Peter and I came to become friends and eventually boyfriend/girlfriend.

I halted in my steps as I stood before the cemetery. New York City was dead silent, only the sound of the wind traveled through the air. My eyes scanned the area and fell at one headstone. It was filled with a lot of pictures, stuffed bears, candles, and of course a lot of spider-man merch. I walked towards the area and carefully made my way through all the objects, trying not to step on anything.

‘Peter Benjamin Parker’

Spiderman

2001-2019

I kneeled in front of the headstone and just looked at the words; Peter Benjamin Parker. After he passed away, everyone learned of Spider-man’s real identity. Classmates from high school came out to show support and the media made millions from reporting his death, none of that mattered though. Nearly a year later, people still come out to his grave to show their appreciation to everything he’s done for the city. Peter was not only a good person, he was a hero, but, unfortunately, not all heroes live forever.

I looked down at my red hands. The night was freezing and I only had my coat to keep me warm. I placed my hands into the pockets of the coat. The fingers of my right hand came in contact with something fuzzy. Quickly I pulled the object out, it was a pair of mittens… Peter’s mittens.

~~~~~~~

“(Y/n)!” I heard a male voice yell my name. I quickly spun around and saw the familiar face of Peter Parker. His brown locks bounced up and down as he ran towards me.

“Hey, Peter,” I said and gave him a small smirk as soon as he caught up to me, out of breath.

“You’re fast, you know?” he said, frowning his eyebrows as he bore his chocolate coloured eyes into mine.

“What? I was just standing here…” I said, pointing at the bus stop.

“I waited outside your school, I wanted to walk you home,” he said, scratching the back of his head, looking away. My smirk suddenly got wider.

“You’re my boyfriend, Peter… You can just text me to let me know you want to walk home together,” I said and kissed his pink tinted cheek, “Let’s go,” I grabbed his hand into mine and started leading him towards my home.

“Do you not have gloves?” he asked, noticing my uncovered hands.

“No, I was in a rush today,” I answered and he halted our tracks.

“You must be so cold!” Peter said with a hurried voice. He grabbed both my hands and brought them up to his mouth, exhaling warm breath onto my fingers. I giggled at his action, my boyfriend is so cute, “What?”

“You’re just so cute,” I commented, making him roll his eyes. Peter quickly removed his black gloves and his warm skin made contact with my icy hands.

“Here. Put them on,” he curtly said, holding his gloves in front of my hands. I took them hesitantly.

“Aren’t you going to get cold?”

“Don’t worry about me, your presence is enough to warm me up,” he winked and gave me his dorky smile.

~~~~~~

“You may be gone, but you’re still looking out for me,” I chuckled to myself, talking to Peter, as if he was there by my side. I slid my hands into the mittens, already feeling much more warmer. I brought my hands up to my face and covered my nose with them, inhaling the scent that was still left over from their previous owner.

“Thank you, Peter…” I whispered looking up at the sky.

“I miss you…”

~

I hope that you enjoyed reading! 

[duchessfics]

Underestimation

(https://duchessfics.tumblr.com/post/612885556559593472)

Billie, Reader x Wilhemina

Requested by @urleastfavtree​: Can I request either Billie or Mina where they’re out at a bar and some guys are challenging themselves to get the waitresses (reader’s) number and then Billie/Mina asks for it right in front of the guys and they get the number and a kiss too???

Warning(s): Guys being dudes, Mentions of alcohol, Mentions of police, Brief bar fight (but nothing too serious)

Summary: While bartending, the reader has to deal with some sleazy business men, and in the process she meets one of her biggest idols. However, things get complicated when her girlfriend shows up to pick her up from work.

Word Count: 3875

A/n: I hope this turned out alright @urleastfavtree​. I know I kind of veered off from what you requested, but this idea crossed my mind and I couldn’t shake it off. 😊

While Billie didn’t imagine herself ending up at some bar in downtown LA, today’s location for her newest TV special was more intense than she anticipated. Of course years of experience have helped her to conjure up a white light of protection when necessary. But the aura of illumination can only do so much. It doesn’t prevent the ever-present anxiety of the unknown or sleepless nights due to nightmares from past interactions with the paranormal.

So that is why the medium is perched on a barstool, nursing a third glass of red wine and contemplating if some whiskey will be her next choice of beverage.

The low-lit room is practically empty, allowing the classic rock music to softly fill the room with the occasional snickers emitted from the small group of businessmen nearby and the light clink of the freshly washed glasses you replace on the racks behind the bar.

While you hear the men muttering amongst themselves with sporadic bursts of laughter, you remain focused on your task. Even though you’re a bartender, there is something about men that is unnerving to you. Of course you try to keep pleasant, but avoid any other non-essential interactions. Just thirty more minutes until you close. Then you’re free to go home.

“Hey, sweetheart, we’ll take another round of beers.” 

Sweetheart. 

You take a second to compose yourself, transforming your clenched jaw into a pleasant smile and turning to face the three men.

“Same beer?” You chirp, trying to ignore their roaming eyes.

The man who seems to be the ringleader sports a wolfish grin as he responds, “Whatever you think, darlin’.” For a second your lip tremors and nearly curls up in disgust. But you catch yourself and squat behind the counter to open the fridge and grab 3 beers. As you hold them by their necks, you take a deep breath to calm your nerves and temper. 

They’re just lonely. Think of the tips. They have designer suits on and if you play nice they may be generous.

When you stand back up, your pleasant façade is back in place and you remove the bottlecaps, setting the drinks before each man. In an effort to avoid speaking, you keep your eyes downcast as you take their empty bottles. However you make the mistake of meeting the gaze of the man with icy blue eyes. He takes a swig of his beer before saying with a smirk, “Thanks, doll.” You nod in acknowledgement sporting a reserved smile and put the bottles in the box containing the other empty bottles. Then you pick up the container and try not to run into the kitchen on your way to dump the discarded bottles into the recycling out back.

The blonde near the opposite end of the bar doesn’t miss the exchange, rolling her eyes at the men’s words. And when you disappear behind the door, the one who thanked you turns to the others and claims, “I bet I could get her number.” Then one who originally asked for beers scoffs and sneers, “She didn’t even look at you. Besides if anyone would get her number it’s me.”

Then the third one with slicked back jet black hair comments, “You both talk too much. I guarantee that if I asked for her number right now she would melt.” Their assertions make Billie softly chuckle, but she swallows her sounds down with a sip of wine before the men can notice. While she thinks this behavior is childish, it’s pretty typical. However, the medium nearly smashes the glass she holds when Mr. blue eyes makes a proposition:

“I’ll bet 50 bucks I can get her number first.”

“Only 50? I’m in.”

“Me too.”

Then the one who proposed the bet says, “And even if one of you somehow gets her before me, which I highly doubt will happen. But if it does...well…I don’t mind sloppy seconds.”

His comment makes all three of them snicker and they murmur words of agreement. Then, as if on cue, you re-enter the bar area with a small bucket of steaming water and washcloth.

You hear the men hiss indistinct words amongst themselves, but actively ignore them, setting the bucket towards the middle of the bar and wringing the excess water out of the rag before starting to wipe down the countertops. Unfortunately, the talkative leader clears his throat and asks, “So you’ve worked here awhile?”

You continue to wipe the counter clean, keeping your back to them as you answer, “Not really. Just about 6 months.”

Billie has to stifle another chuckle when the man who spoke grumbles at being practically ignored. So much for being suave.

Sadly, the cloth can only go so far, and you have to return to the bucket, making eye contact with the ringleader as he asks, “Well how did a pretty girl like yourself end up here?”

Jesus Christ. The arrogance of this man!

After swirling the wash cloth around in the soapy water, you wring out the excess water while replying in an attempt at a casual tone, “I gotta pay my bills somehow. This was just the first job that hired me when I moved here.” His eyebrows raise and he states, “Well I have plenty of friends in high places, darlin’. If you gave me your phone number I could get you a real nice job.” You can’t help but laugh at his supposedly generous offer and assure him, “I’m good for the moment. But thanks.” Then you step away to continue wiping down the counter, missing his enraged expression.

Billie smirks in amusement as she watches the other two silently tease him. Then the one with blue eyes looks in your direction to make his move. He smoothly says, “I’m sure it gets lonely sometimes. It’s nice to have some friends around, doll. I’ll make a deal with you: if you give me your number, I’ll give you mine.”

This time you don’t stop your motions, rolling your eyes as you answer in a firmer tone, “I’d rather not.”

The medium notices your clenched jaw and decides to grant you some reprieve. So she finishes off the rest of her wine in one generous-sized drink before asking in a calm tone, “Could I have another drink please? Whenever you have the chance, of course.” You look up to the blonde and silently thank her, rushing over to her side while answering, “Yes.” The other bartender must have served her earlier, because you would recognize that face and voice anywhere.

Billie Dean Howard.

But you don’t want to make her uncomfortable by acting star-struck. You’ve seen other celebrities here and nothing annoys them more than a pestering fan. When you meet her dark brown eyes, it’s fortunate that the lighting is dim so she can’t see your flustered expression. You take the empty wine glass before asking, “Same drink?”

The medium lets out a low hum while her eyes scan over the numerous bottles along the back wall of the bar. Then she looks to you and replies, “Actually I’ll take some whiskey.” So you pull down the bottle and take your time pouring the amber liquid into a fresh glass tumbler.

While you do, Billie softly asks, “Do you get guys like them often?” The question makes you let out a sigh of relief and you set the bottle back on the liquor shelf before looking to her and softly replying, “Depends on the night. But I’m glad someone else notices.” She smiles and holds out her hand while stating, “I’m—”

But you finish her sentence, “Billie Dean Howard. Medium of the stars.” You take her hand and shake it as you quickly stutter, “I-I didn’t mean to cut you off. It’s just…I’m a big fan.” But she just chuckles and releases your hand picking up the glass while murmuring with a raised eyebrow, “I take it you’ve seen some of my work?” You look down to the glossy tabletop as you admit, “I’ve watched you since your first lifetime special. I—I love your work Miss Howard.”

But you look to her and quickly apologize before assuring her, “I don’t mean to sound obsessive or anything—”

She chuckles and soothes, “You’re fine, sweetheart.” However she immediately stiffens and says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say sweetheart. I’ve probably drank too much—”

But you cut her off and say with a smile, “No—No it’s ok. When you say it, it feels different.” She relaxes a little and takes a long swig of her drink, letting out a soft hiss at the warmth in her throat and cheeks. Then she goes to say something, but one of the men distinctly clears his throat making you look over.

It’s the one who hasn’t spoken to you holds up his bottle before saying, “I need another beer, sugar.” 

Another beer your ass. He was just jealous of the attention you were giving to Billie.

The woman across from you doesn’t miss the low growl in your throat. But you dutifully walk over and reply, “After this round I’ll have to cut you off since we’re closing.”

All three of the men’s eyes darken and the one who asked for another beer teases, “Awe come on, darlin’. We won’t stay long.” But you look to them and softly reply, “I’m afraid it isn’t up to me. But there’s a bar down the street that stays open later.” 

In response he purrs, “But if we go there we won’t be able to see your pretty face. I promise we’ll make it worth your time, sugar.” Your stomach churns and you feel nauseous with the way he looks at you like a piece of meat. And to your embarrassment, you find yourself weakly stuttering out, “I-I’m sorry. But my manager would be really upset.” Before anymore can be said you take their empty bottles and replace them with new ones, keeping your eyes downcast.

Fortunately the men don’t say anything to stop you besides muttering amongst themselves. When you go back to wiping the counter closer to Billie. Her chocolate brown eyes twinkle as she mischievously asks, “Are you gonna have to cut me off too?” Her false innocence causes you to smile before replying, “I’m afraid so, Miss Howard.”

She takes another sip, warming her body even more as she purrs, “Please, call me Billie.” You look up and notice her flushed cheeks and unfocused gaze. She is at least tipsy but looks to be closer to drunk. However, she does remain poised for the state she’s in and still looks devastatingly beautiful.

You both quietly observe each other for a moment before you look down to the counters you clean. Billie finishes off her drink, starting to feel the effects of drinking that whiskey so fast. Then she quietly says, “They were right about having friends in high places.”

You place the rag back in the water to rinse it and wring out the excess as you admit, “Probably.” Then you say in a softer tone, “But I don’t think I want their friends.” The blonde nods in understanding and looks down to her one finger that casually traces the rim of the now empty glass as she asks, 

“What if I could help you out? Only if you’re interested of course.” 

You pause your movements, mouth gaped in shock. But you manage to snap your mouth shut and ask, “Y-You would do that for me? But I’m no one special. I mean…I’m just a mediocre bartender.”

Billie chuckles and ceases her movements before looking up to you and answering, “I would be happy to. And you are special.” Her compliment sends you over the moon and you can’t stop grinning like an idiot. 

Billie Dean Howard just called you special. Does it get any better than that?

“Thank you Miss—I mean, Billie.”

She chuckles and replies, “You’re welcome. Could I get your name and number to contact you?” The way she looks to you with her warm brown eyes doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable. So you rip off a piece of paper off of the pad where you write down orders and jot down your cell phone number and name.

Maybe it’s because Billie’s drank too much or that she hasn’t slept with someone in a hot minute, but the way you bite your lip in concentration as you write makes her insides pool. Then when you look to her again and smile with the outside corners of your eyes crinkling a little at the movement, she feels a sense of desire filling her.

You slide her the slip of paper and say, “Thank you again, Billie. I definitely owe you one.” In the process, she gently takes your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she purrs, “You don’t owe me anything, sweetheart. I’m just happy to help.”

As she looks to you, the medium leans closer and says in a low purr, “Y/n is a beautiful name.” 

She doesn’t want to—she wouldn’t be kissing you, right? 

She keeps coming closer so you stutter out, “Billie, um, I-I didn’t mean to lead you on like that. You see I have—”

But you get cut off by your partner snarling, “Who the hell is this?” That’s when you see the woman in purple at the end of the bar. Her lip is curled, and she looks to Billie with nearly black eyes and if you don’t intervene now, the medium may be joining those she interviews permanently.

So you run over to your girlfriend and soothe, “It was just a misunderstanding, Mina. She’s had a lot to drink.” Then you cup her face and encourage her to look at you before you say, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. If you want, you can wait in the car. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She looks to you with those darkened eyes and you see a hint of hurt and betrayal behind the rage.

So you kiss her lips and whisper, “We can talk about it after I close. No secrets. She’s just drunk and got the wrong idea, Mina. I promise.”

Then Billie walks up, but doesn’t come too close before saying, “I’m sorry. She’s right. She never acted towards me; I’ve had too much to drink. But this is my fault. She was just saying that she had a girlfriend.”

By now your girlfriend has an arm draped around your waist and holds you possessively close. But you sense the heat of her initial rage stabilizing as she looks to you and asks in a low voice, “You were?” You wrap both of your arms around her and reply, “Yes. I know what it looked like, but I promise you, Mina you’re my girl. And I’m yours completely.” 

She pauses and you can sense the wheels turning in her head as she tries to decipher the truth. But she lets out a breath and says in a quiet voice, “I’ll just wait in the car.” You give her a small smile and press a kiss to her lips.

But the moment gets cut off by one of the men saying, “You would really choose her over one of us?”

That makes all three of you look over and you’ve had enough of their bullshit. Your eyes narrow and you shoot back, “Yes. I would.”

The man with blue eyes scoffs and comments, “But you don’t look like a lesbian. You dress so…normal.” That makes your blood boil and you don’t prevent your upper lip from curling as you sneer, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Now the lead man steps forward, and you back away from Mina to stand on your own so you face them directly. He looks to Billie and says, “Well the blonde,” then he pauses, looking her over before continuing, “she could go either way. And the ginger…” he trails off as he eyes her up and down. After a moment, his eyes return to yours and he asks,

“Are you sure you’re really into chicks, sweetheart? Maybe your past experience with men was lacking. But I can treat you like you deserve so you won’t have to settle for... less.”

That son of a bitch.

Rather than answering with words, you walk up and slam your fist into his jaw and keep punching as you yell, “Going out with you would be settling for less you piece of shit!” As you bust his nose and blood gushes out enough to get on your clothes and he yells, “Call the police!” Then you knee him where it counts, sending him down to the ground with a cry.

Once he’s down you run at the man with blue eyes and manage to punch him as you scream, “My girlfriend is better than any of you will ever be! You’re just some fucking perverts!” But before you can knock him or the other man down, two sets of arms wrap around yours, holding you back. You squirm in their grasp and only see red as you growl, “Let me go! They deserve this! The fucking bastards!”

But Billie uses her strength to hold you back on your left side while Wilhemina leans close on your right side. Then she says in an unusually soothing tone, “Hey, it’s ok, darling.” You thrash and roar, “But they insulted you! You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

You see the red and blue lights flash outside of the bar and an officer enters the building. Immediately the men spring into action showing off the damage you enacted on them. That’s when you stop resisting and realize what the consequences of your actions could be. The officer doesn’t handcuff you, but you have to ride with him to the police station where both Wilhemina and Billie promise to meet you…

While Wilhemina Venable would never be caught in such a compromised position hugging you close to her while rubbing your back and murmuring soothing words in public. She not only permits this behavior but encourages you to keep close as you weep into her lilac dress.

Why did this have to be your fault? When you tried to explain to the officer how they were treating you, he said there was no evidence of harassment or threat. And with how injured the one man was, charges could be pressed. This is all your fault. You’ll be lucky to keep your job after this

Between your in-depth interview with the police, the men’s hurtful words, and the time now being around 2 in the morning the tears that pour from your eyes seem impossible to stop. Your face is buried in Mina’s chest and she keeps her arms wrapped around you protectively watching Billie calmly speak with the three men.

Even though the medium is still slightly inebriated, she keeps a charming smile on her lips and warm eyes as if discussing the weather. But Wilhemina also notices that her posture remains tall and her arms are crossed over her middle in an unapologetic stance. Then she gestures over to your trembling figure and the men look to you both. Automatically, the red head holds you slightly closer and looks at them with a cold stare. They speak a little longer and eventually the men walk away.

Billie takes a moment to let out the breath she had been holding and walks over to you, wobbling just a little in her heels. Once she’s close enough, the blonde says, “They aren’t going to press charges.” 

Mina relaxes a little and asks, “What made them decide not to?” By this point, you’ve peeked your head up to look at her and she smirks before replying in a sly voice, “I have my ways.” She gives you a warm smile, but your lip tremors and you rasp, “I’m so sorry for pulling you into this, Billie. I can’t believe I was so stupid—”

She kneels before you and takes one of your hands before soothing, “Don’t say that, sweet girl.” Billie looks to the woman who holds you, making sure she isn’t getting too close, but the woman in purple doesn’t seem bothered. Instead she continues her sentiments, saying, “They were provoking you in the hopes of getting a reaction. If anything, they were stupid for underestimating how you would react.”

Then the medium lets out a small chuckle and says, “You should have seen their faces when you threw the first punch.” Wilhemina smiles too, making you duck your head to hide your grin. Billie brushes her thumb over your knuckles for a moment before releasing your hand and standing up.

The movement causes you to look up and see the blonde watching you both. Then she says, “I want to apologize again about the misunderstanding earlier.” 

Your girlfriend shakes her head and hesitantly replies, “I overreacted before knowing the truth. But I should thank you for speaking with them about not pressing charges.” You look at her with wide eyes, shocked that she would actually admit error on her part to someone she just met.

And Mina surprises you even more when she asks, “Is there any way we could make it up to you?” 

Did Wilhemina Venable just ask that? 

In response, Billie gives a demure smile and casually replies, “Well…we could go out to dinner sometime. I wouldn’t mind the company of two beautiful women.” Then she has the audacity to give the red head a wink, and Mina actually blushes. The woman blushes. This whole ordeal may have a silver lining after all.

Your girlfriend’s reaction makes you giggle and Billie sports a wicked grin as she purrs, “I have y/n’s number so I can let you know when I’m available.” The woman in purple still seems stunned by the medium’s forwardness so you reply, “Oh we will. Thanks again, Billie.” Then she says goodbye and walks away.

Once she’s out of the police station, you chuckle and tease, “She really flustered you, didn’t she?” 

Wilhemina clears her throat and rolls her eyes before replying, “It merely surprised me. That’s all.” You both stand up and begin to walk out to your car. And as you do, you comment, “I guess Billie may not be so bad after all. Maybe we could even get to know her a little better.”

The red head lets out a humorless laugh and replies, “Don’t push your luck, dear.” You both get in the car and begin to drive home. As you do, your phone lights up with a text:

I’m available Friday night if you’re interested in dinner? -Billie

You read her text out loud while Mina drives and she keeps quiet. So you wait a moment before asking, “How should I respond?” The red head taps her fingers on the steering wheel and slowly replies, “Friday works.” 

Her calm demeanor surprises you and you ask, “You’re sure? We don’t have to go out with her if you’re not comfortable.”

Your girlfriend keeps her eyes on the road as she comments, “I’m sure. She seems…interesting. I wouldn’t mind talking to her more.” You smile to yourself and text back,

Friday works. I think you have a captive audience with Mina, which is very rare. 

After a couple minutes, Billie responds, 

I’ll make a reservation. And I’m glad she’s interested. I’m interested in getting to know both of you as well. I look forward to seeing you both again.

You smile at her response and put your phone away, looking forward to getting some sleep and your dinner with Billie Dean Howard.

Tagged:  @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk​, @chokemepaulson​, @versonstar​, @find-me-a-constellation​, @cordwliagoode​, @psychobitchtess​, @midnight-lestrange​, @mysweetdelia​, @venablesbitch​, @peachesandlesbians​

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in later works!

[prettyboypeterparker]

Peter stares at Tony but not Tony. God this is so weird for him. Tony but not Tony is sitting in a chair sipping on straight vodka as Peter circles him poking and prodding his face because how the hell does this person look exactly like Tony but not actually? 

“Are you done?” Icy blue flick to where Peter is hovering a pointer finger.

“Not really. How is this possible?” Peter asks as he makes one more circle around the man before sitting down crisscrossed at his feet.

“I’m come from Earth-TRN517, we’ve have intergalactic travel.” He says as if that really explains how he’s here, in this galaxy specifically.

“Why here?” Peter's fingers play with the hem of his jeans, he feels like he’s very close to a mental breakdown.

“I noticed your Tony isn't here anymore, my Peter isn't alive in my universe.” 

“So you just decided to come here to what? Replace your Peter with another? That’s kinda messed up.” Peter had come to terms with what happened to Tony, he had to there was no other choice, but never did it ever occur to him that he could have another one because Tony Stark will always be one of a kind no matter how many of him exists.

“Precisely.” Fake Tony finishes his vodka, he places it on the floor next to the leg chair and looks down at Peter with his eerie eyes.

“Well you can’t have me, go find another one.” Peter stands from his spot and tries to walk away because this isn't happening.

“I can't. There are more than a million versions of us yet we are the only ones to lose each other. It was fate, I was meant to come here to get back what I lost.” Fake Tony insists as he closes a strong hand around Peter’s wrist.

“Well I can’t replace my Tony, I’m sorry but you aren't him and you'll never be.” Peter shakes his head and tries to pry the mans hand off of him but it’s too tight.

“You leave me no choice then.” Fake Tony stands, towering over Peter as he grabs Peter around the waist, throwing him over his shoulder.

“Hey! Let me down! Tony let me go!” Peter bangs at Fake Tony’s shoulder but he doesn't yield.

“I much prefer Anthony but if it makes it easier for you, you may call me Tony.” 

“You can't do this! You can't.” Peter cries out.

“I can, and I will.” Tony assures him with all the confidence in the world.

Peter tries to wriggle out of his hold but Tony holds on fairly tightly, he takes Peter to his Tony's old room. Peter hasn't been in here since the funeral, he couldn't stand to be in here without him because it just caused too much pain.

“Please don't do this, you don't have to do this.” Peter can feel tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“It’s okay, you’ll learn to love me just like my Peter did.” Peter’s stomach turns and he thinks he might be sick.

Before he has a chance to say anything Tony is dropping him on the bed, he stares up at the man who looks so much like the man he fell in love with. Maybe if Peter tried hard enough he could look past the glowing blue eyes and the cold exterior of this stranger just long enough to get this over with. 

“Strip.” Tony orders.

Peter shakily pulls his t-shirt over his head, he toes his sneakers off then tugs his jeans and boxers off all while not making eye contact with Tony. This feels so unbearably wrong.

“Good boy.” Tony runs a hand down Peter’s jaw, it’s suppose to be loving but it just twists Peter’s stomach.

Tony walks to the side table and rummages around the junk that has piled up there until he finds the bottle of lube that hasn't been used in months. He brings it back and tosses it next to Peter, then he starts undressing himself. Peter watches articles of clothing drop and reveal blue and silver lines mottling his skin they all connect to the arc reactor in his chest. Definitely not his Tony.

“On your stomach.” It’s such a cold command, it makes Peter’s chest hurt.

He rolls onto stomach and automatically spreads his thighs, a habit that he picked up from how many times his Tony fucked him in a day. 

“Relax.” Tony says as he rubs a lube wet finger around Peter’s hole, doing this until Peter goes lax and he can push in.

 Peter shuts his eyes as he tries to imagine brown eyes staring down at him with that stupid smirk he gets when he successfully gets Peter riled up just from a little fingering. It’s hard though, all that keeps burning into his eyelids are icy blue eyes and Peter hates himself even more.

“You're so well trained, my Peter took forever for me to finger, he was always so tight.” Probably because he didn't want you doing it, Peter thought as he winced when Tony pushed in his middle finger alongside his index.

Peter gets fingered until Tony’s decided he’s stretched enough, he looks over his shoulder and sees Tony stroking his cock, pulling the foreskin back and forth the exact way his Tony does it. Maybe if he just doesn't look at the chest and up maybe he doesn't have to feel bad. Maybe.

“Deep breath baby.” Tony instructs as he pushes the head of his cock against Peter’s hole.

Peter takes in a deep shuddery breath as Tony’s whole length slides in, no working up to it just the whole thing in one go. It takes Peter’s breath right out of his lungs, making his head spin.

“You feel like a virgin. Did your Tony ever do this? Or am I the first?” Tony starts to rock his hips, fucking into Peter deep and slow.

Peter chooses not to answer, it’s none of his business. 

“Quiet little thing aren't you? Come on Petey I wanna hear you cry.” It’s the nickname that breaks him.

“Tony.” Peter cries out as he tries to move back on the cock that’s pulling out of him.

The line between who this man is blurs so quickly, Peter is losing his sense of reality with each thrust because this man smells of Tony, and fucks him the same way and Peter is pretty sure this is his Tony.

“Petey, I’m here sweetheart.” Tony coos into Peter’s curls.

Peter nods and tries to turn around because he needs to see him but Tony pushes down between his shoulder blades and pins him to the mattress, fucking into him so hard Peter can't quite catch his breath. It’s everything he's been missing and Peter moans and whines when Tony grabs him by his hair, yanking his head back as he kisses him, licking into his mouth then pulling back and spitting past his lips something that makes Peter cum untouched right into the duvet. 

“Such a good boy Peter, good boy for cumming. I knew you loved me.” Peter nods tiredly as Tony keeps thrusting, he takes it until Tony finishes deep inside, ribbon after ribbon of white seed soaking Peter fully. 

Tony pulls out and smacks Peter on the ass. Tony walks away leaving Peter dripping on the bed, bone tired and losing consciousness every passing second.

“I think I’ll like taking over this galaxy.” Tony says as he leaves the room.

[horrorslashergirl]

Hunter meeting Hunter

A Xaviera Lah-Mo and Andrei Kulokova Story Chapter 2

Authors Note: Here is part 2 of this exciting, thrilling story with Xaviera and Andrei! It’s so much fun writing these two. This is more from Xaviera’s perspective. God, I love these two.

Chapter 1 HERE

Xaviera Lah-Mo belongs to me

Andrei Kulokova belongs to @the-slasher-files​

Warnings: Some tension and a glimpse of Xaviera’s past

Words: 2.1k

The snow was starting to fall from the clouded sky harder, wind getting more aggressive; typical Himalayan winter, something that didn't surprise Xaviera as she gazed out the window of the cottage at the scenario outside, waiting for the stew in the two bowls she prepared to cool down a little, the smell of food relaxing her.

She huffed, wondering what she should do with the mysterious man upstairs. She was so used to traveling alone that the presence of someone made her anxious and stay on her toes for anything to happen, especially seeing how this man wasn't a usual one, her icy blue eyes drifting from the window to his weapons.

After five minutes, she got up from the chair, taking the tray of food, and marching upstairs to the bedroom, opening the door to see the brown-haired man smoke, gazing out the window at the snow falling down.

Without saying anything, she set the tray of food on the nightstand, taking her own portion and sitting into the old armchair next to the bed. He eyed curiously and suspiciously, taking the bowl and setting it in his lap.

"It's not poisonous if that's what you're wondering. If I wanted you dead I would have left you to the wild animals in the snow." she stated, taking a spoonful of her own stew.

He snorted at her words, taking a generous spoonful of the stew, his eyes closed, savoring in the taste and warmness of the dish.

"I've been through worse, myshka." he told her with a smirk.

Xaviera didn't say anything else, a tranquil silence falling on both of them as they eat. After she finished eating, she set her empty bowl on the nightstand, then gazed at him, many questions filled her head.

"Are you going to tell me now who you are and don't play that stubborn game of telling me a false name, Andrei Kulokova. It's not that hard to read your dog tags." she broke the silence, his own ice blue eyes widened a little at her words; that she knew who he was.

His surprised expression quickly changed into a hard glare, the hard cold walls surrounding him like some sort of protection.

"If you know my name is only fair to know yours." he told her, voice rough and with a certain predatory curiosity, like a wild animal wanting to acknowledge the other predator's identity.

"Xaviera Lah-Mo." she simply answered, making herself comfortable on the armchair, her eyes moving to his bandaged ankle, only for him to finish the food and starting to try to get up from the bed.

She gently pushed her hand on his chest to stop him from trying to get up, his eyes like a dangerous wolf ready to strike, but she kept her braveness, not breaking eye contact, macing his glare with her strict one.

"Your ankle is twisted, you need to rest." she firmly told him, who raised a scarred eyebrow at her words.

"What is it your business if I twist my neck?" the Russian man asked her, placing a big, rough hand on her arm gently, a silent warning for her not to pull a stupid stunt.

"I know you care too much for me, but try not fall in love." he whispered, a smug smirk tugging at his lips, K9's on display, but she only scowled at his arrogance, rolling her blue eyes at his attempt at flirting.

"Don't get all high and mighty. I don't want to drag your stubborn self upstair....again." she explained, his hand on her arm, burning her skin through the sweater she was wearing.

"And don't make me kick your ass out. There's a blizzard outside and there are worse killers that I'm sure will love an injured prey." she hissed, tugging at her arm from his hold, without a good result.

The Russian laughs; sadistic and twisted amusement in his wolfish eyes, his face inching towards her own; the two looking like two deadly wild animals ready to clash in a ball of claws and sharp teeth, the fight for dominance evident between the small woman and behemoth of a man.

"So much fire in such a little frame, darling..." he mused, lightening up his cigarette, blowing smoke in her face, making her venomous eyes intensify.

"I like that."

His grip on her arms tightens, it was loose enough that Xaviera could escape but also tight enough that she had to put on a little fight to escape the grips of the big bad wolf.

He was asserting the dominance here, reminding her of a male wolf in the prime of life, hot-blooded against a smaller one. It was a silent assertion.

'I am the big bad one, little one.' That's what it screamed.

Xaviera dismissed his comment, feeling her cheeks heat up involuntarily, something that happened to her in years.

"You know...Some of the deadliest animals are very small." she whispers, face pulled into a frown, just like a feline is ready to hiss in a warning.

Yes, size was important in the animal kingdom. Xaviera remembers during one trip in India when she was studying the King Cobra; a small animal in comparison with a tiger, but the snake packed enough neurotoxin to kill an elephant with a single bite.

"Don't make me scratch your eyes out." the white-haired woman warns him, tugging on her arm from his hold, without success.

The cigarette from between his lips hangs lazily, while he smirks her way.

"Come and try it, little kitten." he challenges her, only for Xaviera to blush at the use of the pet name on her, gulping down nervously, a weird feeling settling in her chest like something was crawling from the deepness of her ribcage. Despite that feeling, she kept a defensive demeanor.

"I'm not little." she hisses.

Andrei raises an eyebrow at her attempt to be threatening.\

"Have you looked in mirror?" he asks, pulling her closer, his body language telling her that he was deep in thought.

"Your neck will be so small under my hand as I squeeze...your trashing will be like nothing to me, little kitten." he spoke lowly with an animalistic growl that made Xaviera shiver, despite her facade at putting a feral face that made the Russian smirk.

Xaviera was the most sensitive at her neck, next to her ears and the prospect of him touching her there, made alarm bells ring in her head like a nuclear reactor ready to blow.

"If you touch my neck I am gonna castrate you, doggie." she hissed under her breath, brows pulled into a frown and her eyes looking directly into his.

She knew that if she broke the eye-contact that would be a sign of weakness on her part.

The man snarls only mere inches away from her face, one of his larger and rough hands moves to run along her thigh and she had to use all her power to control her breathing, trying not to show weakness or hesitation.

"Oh, you would love to get that close to me, wouldn't you....that intimate." he spoke, the air in the room turning from dangerous to sexual, the hand on her arm moving up to run the back of it along her cheek.

"You don't have to ask, baby girl, you know where to find me." with that said from his part, he removes his hands with a little shove and grabs the tea from the tray on the nightstand, taking a long sip while he held eye-contact with her.

Xaviera was taken back by his obscenity, never had she meet a man who spoke so directly at her in such lewd ways; probably because all the men she encountered were either too scared to addresses her, because of her ice-cold demeanor.

She snorts, pulling on a face of disgust.

"Keep dreaming, asshole. One more of that and I am gonna kick your butt in the snow." she warned him with her trademark icy glare.

Andrei holds the cup of tea in his lap and scoffs at her threat.

"Baby, I'm from Russia, the snow and cold is no bother to me." he tells her with a cocky smirk.

"You're infuriating." she tells him, stalking out of the bedroom and walking downstairs, leaving him alone.

After that, she went back on her research; she couldn't wait to kill the group of poachers that she had stalked for so long, mostly because their target was the rare snow leopard and just the idea of them killing the beautiful and gracious animal for the majestic fur made her see red and almost break a compass in her hand.

She needed to focus and that unnerving Russian was driving her nuts. Gazing out the window, the time passed so fast that it was starting to get dark outside, the night slowly falling in. Might as well rest herself during this blizzard, because she will need all the power for the upcoming hunt.

Her eyes looked to the stairs and she scoffed; no way was she going to sleep next to that male that she wanted to scratch his eyes out. She moved towards the fireplace, laying down on the fluffy blanket in front, the flames warming her up and making her eyelids feel as heavy as her sniper rifle.

Before she knew it she was fast asleep.

===========================

She was running, that's all she could do, hearing the loud hitting of numerous paws hitting the dry ground. Her ears perked up as the sounds of laughing growling meet her, basically feeling how the sharp canines will tear her flesh to the bone.

No weapons, no defense. Xaviera was scared and she felt like death was chasing her in the form of a pack of hyenas; the only animal she was anxious to be around, mostly because it reminded her so much of her parents dead.

No, not the animal killed their parents, the poachers did and the feliform carnivoran mammals just clean up the mess. A 14-year-old being forced to watch how her mother was devoured by the feral animals. How the hyenas tore the flesh of her mother's face-off, ripping her limbs apart.

She couldn't run and before she knew it she was on the ground, mouths of sharp teeth surrounding her, snarling and mocking her.

She wanted to wake up!

==============================

She jolted up with a scream, moving to get away from anything until her back meets a corner; she was hyperventilating, scanning her surroundings.

She was back in the cottage, in the bedroom, but she remembers that she fell asleep in front of the fireplace. Her gaze moved from the bed to the other side of the bedroom, seeing the Russian in a defensive position, one hunting knife in hand, the blade shining from the moonlight that peeks from the window.

Seeing that there was no danger, just the two of them in the silence of the night. He lowered his knives down, bending down and just looking at her.

She took as much air in her lungs as she could, controlling her breathing and uneasiness, reminding herself that it was only a nightmare and there is no danger, nothing to harm her in....that way.

Still, the gruesome images of her mother made her muscles tense, like a feline ready to pounce if she was threatened.

Xaviera was pulled from her dark thoughts by the slight shushing and cooing voice of Andrei, as he took careful steps towards her, her hands ready to strike if she had to, but he just stopped in front of her, not showing any sign that he will hurt or kill her.

Without realizing it, she leaned her forehead against his chest; she was so small compared to him and he could easily twist her neck if he so desired, especially in her vulnerable state.

That thought made her pull away from him slowly, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"It was nothing." she told him in a quiet voice, exiting the bedroom and going downstairs, not having it in her to be around anyone at this moment.

The vulnerability was dangerous; she saw many times how that could cost someone's life. Animals showed no mercy when they got their prey in their claws or jaws....and so were humans, but humans were greedier, their avarice destroying everything.

Xaviera sometimes wondered if she was human because she felt more in connection with the wildness and animals.

Life thought her that is either you're the predator or the prey and she sure as hell wasn't going to be the second option. Still, she wondered why she saved the predator upstairs.

Maybe, because like her, he was more animal than human, and her soft spot for feral creatures kicked in?

She sighed as she gazed out the window outside, still night and snowing and she could feel as she gazed at the Himalayan mountains the spirit of the snow leopard, remembering that she was strong and deadly, killing so many people, just like a predator.

[lowkeyaesthvtic]

Fiery and Frozen

Pairing: poly!Sea Three (Uma x Harry x Gil)

Summary: The Sea Three get sent home from Auradon Prep early due to a snow storm. The boys want to turn on the fireplace, but Uma has other plans

Word Count: 4,146 (that’s right, it’s a long boy)

Warnings: major major MAJOR explicit smut, light bondage, dom!Uma, switch!Harry, sub!Gil, I feel like the post will get banned if I explain everything so just read with caution

Author’s Note: This is the first of three (I think three?) smuts that follow the smut dialogue prompts I reblogged a while back. This particular one has prompts 16 and 94

The air outside was nearly arctic, and the howling wind didn’t help too much. Ice quietly tapped against every surface of every building in Auradon. Those who made the dull-witted decision to skip out on layering for that day came back to their dorms with high chills on their skin and a blue or purple tint to their lips. Uma, Harry, and Gil had all made that mistake.

School had been cancelled early that day, as did all after school activities. Some were happy to be sent home early, eager to catch up on homework, take a nap, whatever they wish. Others were upset about the cancellation of their beloved tourney practice or rehearsal for Auradon’s Speech and Debate team. These swashbucklers, however, only cared about staying warm.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Harry mumbled as he shut their dorm room door behind them. Goosebumps trailed along his pale skin from one muscled arm to the next. For the first time in a long time, he would publicly admit to being desperate for something. In the case? Warmth.

“I don’t get it...yesterday it was sunny. Like, really sunny. Did someone cast a spell? Is Auradon cursed again?” Gil asked as he walked over to their bed and looked for blankets, hoodies, anything to warm themselves from the frost outside their window. Uma sat on their bed and crossed one leg over the other as she eyed her boys up and down. Despite them being tinted a dark blue, Uma could not stop thinking about their lips. The cold skin trailing along every inch of her body as she’d curl her icy fingers down their bare backs. 

“Nope. Evie told me earlier today that they got hit with something similar this time last year. She had the perfect cure for it, though.” She smirked and walked over to the small fireplace in their nearly luxurious bedroom. They had only added tiny Isle-esque touches so far, and they did intend on adding more. But for now, their bedroom would look like a weird mix of their home on the Isle and the fresh, pristine style of Auradon. With the fireplace on, the boys quickly sped over to sit on the foot of the bed and face the roaring heat emitting from across them. 

The boys sighed in relief. But said relief was quickly cut in half when Uma stood in front of the fireplace, blocking some of the heat that would be warming them. She stood facing them, hands on her hips and looking at them with hungry eyes. “Well? Don’t you want to know what the cure is?” She asked innocently, hoping the tease in her tone would help them take the hint.

Harry immediately caught on, knowing that slight tease in her voice from a mile away. He smirked devilishly and gave a low chuckle. Gil, however, bless his pirate soul, was sitting there with his head slightly cocked to the side in confusion. “I thought the fireplace was the cure?” Gil asked.

The dark-locked pirate stood and tenderly greeted his girlfriend, placing a stray hair behind her face. “Hmmm, it seems he’s not catching the hint. More for me?” Harry quietly cooed in her ear. Uma smiled softly, inching in closer to him as if she were going to kiss him. Harry was swiftly surprised, however, when she tightly gripped his hair and pushed him down to his knees. Harry melted into the touch, loving the fluttery, fiery feeling he received when Uma reminded him who was in charge.

“Not if you’re gonna behave like that.” Uma began to walk closer to Gil, but stopped when she heard shuffling movement from behind her. She briskly turned and gave Harry her dominating glare. “Did I say you could get up? Stay there.” Uma gritted through her teeth as she turned to Gil with a sweet grin. “Gil, do you understand what I’m asking for, here?”

Gil could already feel his breath getting a hint heavier. He knew exactly what she wanted, but he had a role to play. This was a lustful dynamic the three of them had built far before they had decided to take their relationship in a more romantic direction. Harry was a feisty one. He’d have his days where all he wanted to do was tease his sunshiney boy more and more, inching towards the brink of release, but swiping it every time. He was bratty, too. Flirtatious and hedonistic as if the feeling of Gil and Uma’s bodies against his was a drug..no, a religion to him. He could be as teasing and devilish with Gil as he wanted to be, but the minute his Captain stepped in, it’s as if a switch in his mind, body, and soul flipped. What was once a fiery, near chaotic little demon became an obedient first mate, eager to please and serve his Goddess.

Uma always took charge. She’d command every kiss, every touch, every lingering piece of skin on her and her boys. If she asked her boys to jump, they’d ask how hard..how deep, and they had to do it willingly. Because their Captain was merciless, brutal, yet burning ecstasy in punishment. 

Gil? Gil was the sunshine boy. Innocent and a tad dumb both in the streets and somewhat in the sheets. He was always submissive. Almost always excited. He would be a bit naive at first, supposedly fronting like he didn’t have a lot of experience. But once the foreplay was done, that would be the complete opposite. Gil is like a rabbit. Sweet and adorable but horny as fuck. And that showed in his actions. He was needy of pleasure both for himself and his partners, and giving out a naive front was a part of that need.

“I, I think so? Can you...can you tell me?” Uma quietly giggled and slowly shifted herself on to Gil’s lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. She runs her hands gently through his blonde locks and placing a finger under his chin, leans his head up to gaze directly into her dark brown eyes.

“Oh, sweetie. Why tell..when I can just show?” Uma whispered before leaning in to place a kiss on Gil’s soft, pouty lips. Their lips collided deeply and passionately, dancing with each other in a fiery masquerade. Uma couldn’t keep her hands off of Gil’s rock hard, bulging biceps and Gil revelled in every cold touch she gave him. Harry sat back in longing, the sounds of their needy groans and content, quiet sighs filling the room and seeping into his skin. Gil quickly moved down to Uma’s neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave love bites that blended near perfectly with her dark skin. A small moan slips from Uma as she leans back and takes a quick look at how Harry’s reacting to all of this. She quickly pushes Gil down, his back laying on the soft bed. As she takes off his shirt, she leans down and cooes loud enough for the dark haired pirate behind her to hear. “Gil, why don’t we warm ourselves up a bit, hm?” Gil slowly nods, feeling his erection growing harder with every ounce of her breath he feels on his skin. 

“But...but what about Harry?” Gil looked up just for a moment to check on his kneeling boyfriend. He wasn’t quite a mess just yet, but the animal was definitely not liking his cage. His mind was racing, eyes fixed on Gil’s bare chest. He knew that as soon as Uma gave him the permission to, he’d ravage that naive boy enough to make Gil scream his name. The idea of pinning Gil’s arms to the bed as he’d suck and bite on every inch of his skin, teasing his hard, twitching cock until the very last second made Harry’s erection very visible through his black pants. Harry looked to Uma and gave her a gaze that silently begged for permission to stand, to move, to do anything other than sit here and watch. Uma chuckled and positioned herself right on top of Gil’s growing erection, causing a pleasured moan to slip from the boy’s lips.

“We’re gonna give him a show first. Now, be a good boy and do what I tell you. That won’t be so hard, will it?” Gil shakes his head, knowing that the moment he disobeys her he will regret it. Uma smiles and continues kissing every inch of his body, one hand gripping onto his shoulder as she digs her nails into his skin as the other hand rests on Gil’s right thigh. She perks her firm, supple ass a bit higher into the air, knowing it’d drive her first mate crazy. By the time she leans up to examine her work, Gil’s neck and chest are covered in marks varying in shades of red and purple. Gil whines at the loss of contact, but is relieved of the sudden loss when he feels her grinding against his crotch. In his pleasured haze, he hadn’t noticed that Uma had stripped of nearly all her clothes, leaving her only in a pair of lacey, dark blue panties. 

But Harry had seen every bit of it. He knew from the second she removed her brown belt what she was doing to him. He marveled how she swayed out of her dress to the beat of every possible song that was blaring in his mind. He nearly growled when she turned around and flashed him a wink as she removed her bra and tossed it to the floor beside them. Not seeing her breasts, but only the curves and divots of her back and hips was the biggest tease she had given him. He wanted to touch her so bad, feel her lips crash onto his pale body and please every inch of her skin as Gil lingered his tongue up and down his cock. But, like a puppet on strings, he had no choice but to stay still.

Uma continued to grind against Gil’s hard cock, loving the feeling it gave her but needing just a little more. She moved her hand from Gil’s shoulder to his blonde lock, giving a strong tug. Gil quietly winced and the mix of pain and pleasure that she gave him, but he loved every bit of it. He needed to feel her mouth on him like a fish needed the ocean water coursing through every breath. “Uma..please..I need you.” He begged, eyes glazing over with wanton.

At his begging remark, Uma leans down and growls into his ear. “Did I say you could speak, my little rabbit?” She ceased her grinding and stood up, motioning to a needy Harry to stand beside her. “I’ll have to admit, I loved hearing you beg. Maybe our needy Harry over here can help you beg a bit more, hm?” As Harry stood beside her, she pulled him in and quickly crashed their lips together. After being without her touch for so long, it felt like ecstasy to finally get some attention. They ran their hands all over each other, Harry taking every chance he could get to grip her soft breasts. He started to move down to her neck when she pushed him back. “I’ve gotta get something. You two have fun while I’m gone.” As she walked away, she whispered a subtle command to her first mate. “I want him a mess when I’m back. But don’t let him come, you got that?” Moving his gaze to the desperate blonde in front of him, he slowly nodded with a devilish snicker. Uma walked off, heading towards a special closet in a different part of their home.

Harry quickly rushed on top of Gil, stripping off his jacket and shirt with haste. Using his strength, he pulled Gil up closer to him, their chests touching skin to skin. “Wait, what did she tell you?” Gil asked in between quiet moans as Harry left even more love bites across his neck and shoulders.

“Shut up and take your pants off.” Harry responded, to which Gil obliged. Soon enough, both of the boys were naked and revelling in each other’s touch. Heat, lust, and utter desire roaring in the both of them. Like an entrancing snake, Harry slithered down Gil’s chilled body, leaving both wet and soft kisses down every inch until he finally licked a long, wet stride up the blonde’s hard cock. The sensation sent shivers up Gil’s spine as he leaned his head back and let a needy moan release into their bedroom. Gripping onto his thighs strong enough to leave red marks, Harry soon became a little rougher with his tongue. Gil intertwined his fingers in his dark, messy locks as Harry switched back and forth between speedily bobbing up and down and teasing licks from the base to his tip. Harry had always been a fan of control when it came to Gil, doing everything he could to remind the muscle that no matter how big and strong he was, he’d always be a good boy for a teasing, devilish imp like himself. 

Harry kept himself trapped in between Gil’s legs, his pace growing quick and rough as Gil bucked his hips and let his cock hit the back of Harry’s throat. Gil could feel the warmth in his stomach beginning to bubble over as he longed for release. “Harry...please.” He moaned out as he neared his climax. Harry let go of his cock with an audible pop and continued gliding his fingers along the inside of Gil’s thighs, relishing in the small shivers and squirms the blonde pirate gave. 

“Sorry, rabbit. Uma gave me orders. I have to follow them.” He slid back from in between Gil’s legs and moved to straddle him. He leaned down to his boyfriend’s ear and whispered lowly. “You know how to follow orders, don’t you?” As Harry’s hand went to tightly grip Gil’s throat, the two pirates could hear the door opening and Uma walking in with an evil smile on her face. There she stood with a pair of red, leather handcuffs in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other. Harry speedily removed himself from Gil and began to saunter closer to Uma, eyeing the cuffs like a hungry wolf. “What exactly do you have planned, Captain?” Uma let out a soft chuckle before looking over to Gil.

“Gil, my rabbit, lean up against the headboard, will you?” Gil quickly nodded and obeyed, shimmying his body so his back leaned against the headboard. Uma spun one of the cuffs around her finger in pure excitement. “Harry, help me out?”

“Gladly, Captain.” Harry purred as the two moved over to cuff Gil to the black headboard behind their bed. Gil’s heartbeat began to quicken in both fear and excitement as he felt his hands restrict to the tight, red, leather cuffs that Uma had brought up. His length was still standing hard and thick, almost painfully stiff from Harry’s earlier teasing. A tiny whimper rises from him as Harry snakes down to his chest and starts to leave even more tiny little love bites on his chest. Uma straddled behind Harry and grabbed a lock of his hair, using her grip to move him up and away from Gil’s chest.

“Easy, Harry, you’re making the poor guy miserable. Surely he should get some kind of award for following my orders earlier, shouldn’t he?” Uma smiled as she grabbed the bottle of lube and began to open the cap. However, instead of squeezing the lube onto Harry’s hand, she quickly grabbed two of Harry’s fingers and swirled her tongue around them long and slow. “Just in case the lube’s not enough.” She said after releasing his fingers with an audible pop. Harry could try to assume that was the only reason Uma sucked his fingers so sloppily, but he knew what she was doing. He chuckled lightly and looked down at Gil. The poor little rabbit still laid a heavily breathing, silently begging mess. Harry took the lube from Uma’s hand and squeezed a little bit of it onto his two fingers before lathering them in the warm liquid. 

“Don’t worry, little rabbit. I’ll warm you up.” Harry smirked as he teased his finger around the rim of Gil’s hole before slowly inserting it inside of him. A small hiss of pain could be heard as Gil slowly adjusted to the penetration, but it wasn’t long before he laid there, eager for Harry to move his long, index finger. 

“H-Harry, please...s-stop teasing.” 

“We really need to find a way to shut you up, don’t we, little Rabbit? Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing. Are you able to lay on your back?” Uma asked softly, a temporary pause from her dominating demeanor to ensure the safety of her boyfriend. When he nodded his head and began to slowly lay on his back, Uma straddled over his chest and began to capture his tongue in a heated, passionate kiss. In the kiss, Uma began to grind her naked sex on top of Gil’s chest, painting it with her wet juices. “Go ahead and stop teasing him, Harry. I’ve got just the thing to keep him quiet.” Uma ordered her first mate. As Harry obeyed and began to curl his finger inside Gil’s hole, a soft sigh of relief could be heard from the blonde pirate. Uma began to move her naked body closer and closer to Gil’s mouth. “You know what to do, little rabbit. Show me what that tongue can do.” She whispered before lowering herself onto Gil’s face. He eagerly went to work licking her folds, lapping at her warm juices like a thirsty dog desperate for water. 

As he ate Uma out, Harry slowly curved his finger as he moved in and out of Gil’s hole. Tired of being tame, Harry cautiously added a second finger and began to quicken his pace. Moans could be heard from both Uma and Gil as the devilish imp hit Gil’s most sensitive spot and the little rabbit grew even more reckless with his tongue. “Fuck, sunshine...need to be in you so badly. Captain, can I fuck him? Please?” Harry panted as his member remained nearly untouched. His mind went wild watching both his boyfriend and girlfriend unravel before him, but the fact that he wasn’t getting a lot of attention slowly began to eat away at him. 

Uma was nearing her climax, but decided that she needed something different, something more from her boys. She got off of Gil’s face and went back to straddling his chest. She lowered herself to meet his lips as she whispered seductively to him. “What do you think, Gil? You want Harry to fuck you senseless while I ride that thick cock of yours? All you gotta do is ask.” The two boys gulped in excitement as Harry shot Gil a look saying ‘You better beg, you little shit.’ Gil looked up at Uma and eagerly nodded his head. 

“Please, please Captain. I need to feel you, I need to feel both of you. I promise, I’ll do anything.” After being silenced for so long, Gil felt amazing finally letting go of control and submitting to the two beautiful people in front of him. He’d beg as long as they wanted if it meant making them feel good. Uma quickly leaned down to peck his cheek.

“Good boy.” She smiled as she leaned over to the dresser and grabbed two condoms. As she handed one to Harry, she shot him a wink. “Try not to rough him up too much, alright? Unless he wants that.” 

Gil rolled his eyes as he watched the two unwrap and put on the condoms. “I don’t care how rough, just fuck me already!”

Harry and Uma chuckled and positioned themselves. Uma straddled Gil’s length as Harry rubbed some of the warm lube onto his own. “Well, somebody’s eager.” Harry laughed as he teased the tip of his cock around Gil’s stretched hole. Uma, however, was tired of teasing. As soon as Gil’s cock was within reach, she quickly lowered herself down. There was a small wince at the sudden entry, but as soon as Uma started moving slowly..up and down..neither of them cared. Harry, incredibly aroused and nearly feral from the pleasurable sounds Uma and Gil began to make, finally entered Gil’s hole starting with his tip and taking it inch by inch. His rough, strong hands began to grip onto Gil’s thighs as he began to move in and out. Gil, slightly overstimulated from all the attention these two were giving him, could already feel his head floating in the clouds. It was like the three of them were the only people in the world. He didn’t care how loud or ridiculous sounding his moans and tiny begs were, or how loudly their headboard had started to bang on the wall. All he cared about was the warm wetness Uma blessed him with and the rough, senseless fucking Harry began to gave him as he quickly picked up his pace.

Uma definitely had a good time herself as well. It always brought her joy knowing the pleasure of two of the Isle’s hottest boys was in the palm of her hands. She was the only one who knew the right way to tug Harry’s black locks. She was the only one who knew Gil’s secret ‘love’ for spanking and rope bondage. Technically, Harry knew these things too, but she was the only one who’d get to use them as tiny games of sexual torture. She loved it. They loved it. And they’re the only ones who play it with each other.

Harry could feel himself start to come undone. The warm feeling in the pit of his groin was bubbling and boiling like a pot of hot water and he wanted nothing more than to let it burst inside of his blonde baby boy. “C-Captain...can I come? Please, please let me come inside of him.” Harry would never be this submissive around anybody else. But there was something about the way Uma carried herself, both in and outside the bedroom, that made him weak in the knees. Weak enough that if anybody else were to see the two in moments like these, they’d think Harry was under some kind of love spell cast by Uma. But there was no spell involved here, just a girl so beautiful, so confident, so strong in her fight for dominance that just submitting to her brought Harry the utmost pleasure. For Gil, on the other hand, he was an amplified, sexualized version of his usual, chaotic self. Eager to both tease and please. After all, the more you tease, the more they want it, and Harry loved to elongate everything with Gil as far as he could until Gil was a begging mess. 

Speaking of begging, Gil’s pants began to grow quick and unrhythmic as his climax came close. “I’m getting close, too. Uma...p-please..” He whined as he listened to the beautiful music of Uma’s moans. 

“Yes, yes baby. You can come. Come long and hard like I know you can.” Neither of the boys knew which one she was talking to, but they obeyed the order regardless. Gil let out a huge moan as he came inside of Uma, knowing he’d have quite the messy condom to throw away later. As he came, Harry could feel Gil’s hole tightening around him. The warm, tight hole around Harry’s throbbing cock was enough for the devilish pirate to reach his peak, whispering both Gil and Uma’s name as he did.

By the time Uma had undone Gil’s cuffs and Harry had thrown away both of the condoms, the three laid sprawled out across the bed, both of the boys near drenched in sweat. “Thank wicked for snow days, yeah?” Harry huffed out as he tangled his fingers in Gil’s ruffled and messy locks.

“Definitely.” Uma smiled, staring up at the ceiling then lowering her eyes to the roaring fireplace. “You boys want me to turn off the fireplace?”

“No, I think we’re good here.” Gil hummed between breaths, taking in the scent and afterglow of his two favorite people. Then, he noticed something. “Uma, did you finish?”

“No, that doesn’t matter though. Making you boys feel good is fine enough for me.” Gil leaned up and looked over to Harry, cocking an eyebrow and letting a playful smirk spread across his face. 

“Well we can’t have that, can we, Harry?” Harry shrugged his shoulders as he began to leave little nibbles on Uma’s neck while Gil lowered himself to Uma’s thighs and began to tease her folds with his fingers. Uma sighed and closed her eyes, realizing a newfound love for snow days.

[1zashreena1]

Princess Gets A Shot -21

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary:  Diego requests backup and then it turns out that backup really was needed. 

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Gun violence, Soft Murder Panther, the L word, come eating, pussy eating, ass eating, look, everything gets eaten here, Diego being Diego, plus size woman+fit man, actual anal, feeeeeeeels

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic​​​ ​ @symbiont13​​​ ​ @nicke0115​​​ ​​ @bunnykjm​​​ ​ @rosee-sensuelle​​​ ​ @girlpornparadise​​​ ​ @mandoplease​​​ ​ @heresathreebee​​​ ​ @xxsteph-enrixx​​​ ​ @jetiikad​���​ ​ @joalsglasses​​​ ​ @mutantcookiesecrets​​​ ​ @demoncatstone​​​ ​ @squidlywiddly87​​​ ​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog​​​ ​ @poeedamerons​​​ ​ @xxidontwikeitxx​​  @kid-from-new-zealand​​ @fleurfatale89​​ @allalngthewtchtower​​

Its 11:52am when you start shutting down your computer this Friday. Coworkers start chuckling and you roll your eyes, you know what's coming next. Tremaine pops around the shared wall of your cubicles to grin manically.

"You have the longest dick appointments ever." She waggles both eyebrows excessively and you laugh.

"Its not a dick appointment. I got a ring, bitch." You flap your left hand around in retort and she giggles madly. Your cell chirps and she makes a stern face.

"You better not be late. I bet he'll withhold punishment!" She cackles and disappears behind the felted wall to your snorts. 

You grab your stuff and pull the phone out of your purse to check the text.

Take your fiancé to work day?

Increasingly, Diego has been giving you more and more access to the business. He uses literal names and real dollar amounts in conversation, its actually a little fascinating how well he manages an outfit so vast. You ask questions and sometimes help him with spreadsheets or schedules. Its all very professional and you love the contrast of how he runs the business versus his reputation. 

Whatever meeting he has tonight must be more social than business if he feels comfortable enough to take you along. You trust Diego and his men to keep you safe.

What's the dress code?

You have an extensive wardrobe now, so some guidance might be helpful.

Typical club

Attached is a picture of a dark, deep, forest green suit.

Your stomach drops and your blood pressure rises. He's gonna look so fucking good.

Uhhhh. Just fucking tell me what you want me to wear

Melted my brain you ridiculous man

Sure, it feeds his ego, but its the truth. He's so hot that sometimes you don't know what to do with yourself.

The gray dress. Black shoes. Got jewelry here for you

…..no panties😛🐈

Aww yiss, you laugh to yourself. 

New bling AND head?????? Goddamn bby

Don't worry, you'll earn it

You don't know if you should be amused or worried. Guess I'll find out.

---------------------------

The new jewelry is a pair of very long sapphire chandelier earrings and a matching anklet. The bright blue sparkles like fire against your fair skin and makes your eyes pop. You've never known another man with such style sense. 

You're standing in front of his dresser mirror admiring the earrings as they brush the top of your cleavage when Diego calls you.

"Come here, Princess. I'll give you a hand." His raspy voice never fails to give you goosebumps. When you turn around Diego is kneeling on the rug holding the anklet. Its not the first time he has helped you dress, but something about it is vaguely suspicious. Those chocolate eyes are too smirky.

You step forward and offer your right foot. While Diego fastens the band of blue stones you stroke over some newly emerging silver at his temples with a fingertip. You're so enamored with the distinguished look that it startles you when his fingers brush your inner thighs. In less than a moment Diego has his hand buried in your crotch, fingers finding your folds, and then the middle sinks into you to the knuckle. 

"Aiiieee!" You yelp, completely unprepared for this development but not exactly surprised. That single finger is hot and thick, he manages to circle your cervix fleetingly. 

"Good girl." Diego purrs.

You involuntarily clench tight even as you glare down at him. 

"The fuck. You couldn't warn me first?" Your snarl is undermined by breathlessness as your hips roll for more. Its infuriating and amazing how quickly this man can wreck you.

"Princess." He chides quietly, "I had to check that you followed my orders like an obedient little girl." He smiles widely, clearly pleased with the both of you. Your heart trips and you curl fingers over his shoulder for balance as the heel of his palm grinds your clit. He goes on tauntingly, "Don't show this pretty pussy to anyone else tonight and you'll get a very big reward."

"Asshole. Fuck you." You moan. The dual stimulation is winding you up quickly. You gasp with disappointment when Diego pulls his hand away but it turns into a whine as you watch him suck your flavor off of his own digit. 

He pulls the middle finger out of his mouth with a pop. "You will."

------------------------

The club is packed but some lackey already has a VIP booth ready for Mr. Jimenez. A huge hand lands on your lower back to usher you along, its a very couple-y move. When you sink into the plush seating Diego sits practically on top of you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Something is definitely up here.

"So, you wanna tell me what's going on tonight?" You whisper, face buried in his neck to ensure you can be heard over the music. 

Diego orders drinks, you're sure its something nasty for him and fruity for you, before turning your way. The hand on your shoulder is petting you.

"I have a new distributor as part of the side deal terms. I cannot shoot her without ruining the deal and we need this deal. But she doesn't take no for an answer. And while I respect her ambition, it is becoming… problematic." Diego scans the club as he speaks, decidedly not looking at you. 

Oh really?

"Diego Jimenez. Are you uncomfortable with a woman hitting on you??" You ask incredulously. You're trying not to laugh because he clearly is. 

Diego turns to glare down at you and if you were anyone else it would have the intended effect. You just smile beautifically. 

"I gave you my word, did I not?" Diego huffs dramatically and glances down at your ring. Oh, baby. "And I don't like her." He shudders.

"I trust you, Diego. I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't." You intone gently. Whatever your man needs, you'll do your best to give it to him. 

"Good. Now be possessive. She seems to respect women more than men. And I am not bringing my sister into this, it is ours." Diego mutters as he spots a small group of women coming in from the back. Ours? Without Alicia?? That really means behind her back. Diego, what are you doing?

You lean back casually and cross your legs. If Diego wants a calmly confident woman to belong to, then that is what he'll get.

Julio lets the tall, muscular woman in front lead the group into the booth where they sit across from you. She looks Diego up and down boldly, then licks her lips. You laugh outright and it draws her attention. 

"I'm Liz. And you are…?" She leans forward to assess you. Its supposed to be intimidating but you're unconcerned. Her brown eyes are sharp, they alight on your ring as you sip your drink lazily.

"Princess." You smile without it meeting your eyes, its the icy one you reserve for frenemies and men you would enjoy hurting. Liz cocks her head and blinks, you've managed to surprise her.

"So the rumors are true. Didn't peg you as the type to settle down." You can feel Diego stiffen next to you with her reply as she turns back to him. You want to hate her, you really do, but that was a good one. That feeling remedies itself with her next words, "Although. That is more, a lot more, than I would have expected." She gauges your body and sniffs in disapproval. 

The jab at your size isn't new. Or particularly innovative either. While you're certainly not amused, Diego, on the other hand, has become deathly still. You transfer the drink to your right hand and slide the left over his thigh so your fingertips slip between his legs. He is like a statue under you, so incredibly tense. 

"Nothing he can't handle." You sleaze, arching a brow at her flat chest. Gradually, Diego eases while Liz snorts and rolls her eyes.

"How did you do?" Diego drawls, leaning forward to rest elbows on his knees without displacing your grip. Its a casual display of his comfort with you touching him. 

"Its all spoken for. I need another load plus thirty percent. Baltimore is hungry." Liz decides to ignore you entirely. Victory. 

"I'll give you twenty-five, you'll give me ten percent more of the profit." Diego continues without her agreement, "You're ambitious, but don't bite off more than you can chew." He dismisses Liz with a wave and you can tell that irritates her. 

"Oh, don't worry, I don't bite the pretty ones." She is smarmy and leering. She doesn't even have any style.

"How boring." You purse your lips and look unimpressed. 

"Sí. Truly." Diego huffs as he adjusts his jacket to settle back into the cushions, and further into your side. He crosses an ankle over his knee and smiles into your hair. You maintain eye contact with a silently seething Liz as she rises to leave with her girls. 

Licking your lips, you slide your hand higher until you're cupping Diego through his pants and squeeze gently. Her eyes widen, then narrow with his relaxing posture as Diego melts into your public groping. She stomps off and the girls follow, one looking over her shoulder to watch you two hungrily. Something about the girl looks familiar but you can't place it.

You wait until they fade into the crowd, then turn to Diego….

Who is slouching blissfully with your dick massage. The sight makes you laugh, its adorable in a kinky way. He smiles slowly, obviously pleased with your performance. 

"Perfect little Princess. You are a very good Bad Girl." Diego praises you with a low rumble. He really does look so good in this new suit. His gray shirt matches your dress, he picked it specifically to look like a matched set. A subtle sign of your status together. You're leaning in for a kiss when you hear a muffled popping sound.

Diego lurches forward to crush you to his chest and you can feel Julio at your back suddenly.

Its gunfire.

Julio picks you up around the waist and hauls you over Diego’s head and the back of the sofa to go over the railing and into Bastian's waiting hands. Diego pushes your weight up with him, then dives over, too. Bastian is dragging you toward a hallway by the time you register the location change. Your head whips around to locate Diego, left hand reaching out for him. Diego takes two huge strides to press up against you, Julio is on his back. 

Another round of shots echoes in the club as people scream and panic. Its chaos, you can't tell where the bullets are coming from in your adrenaline rush and the enclosed space.

"Go, go now!" The gravelly command lengthens Bastian's strides until you pop out a side door into an alley. Manuela is outside, waving you to the Escalade. Bastian releases you to go around to the driver's side and Diego pushes you forward. You get the back door open just in time for Diego to shove you again so you land on the floor. Curling up, you give them room to climb in, too. Diego slides into the seat above you and covers you with his body, Julio layers on top of your fiancé and slams the door. Gunfire pops off outside in the alley, far too close for comfort. Manuela is still getting in the front when Bastian tears off.

"What the fuck!" You yelp angrily. As the SUV turns out of the alley, Diego tucks your head down further and Manuela returns fire. More shots plunk into the bulletproof body of the Escalade above your head and the window on the other side shatters to rain glass down over Julio. Diego growls ferociously and you reach back to grab his collar while hissing, "Stay down!"

You're not losing him. You refuse. 

"Everyone's behind us, full coverage! Two more blocks and we're out, boss!" Bastian hollers as he weaves through traffic. 

You keep your grip on Diego. Nothing happens for another few minutes, then Bastian whips around a corner and into the underground garage. You recognize it from the road noise and so does Diego, he sags onto you. The car screeches to a halt and everyone starts pouring out. Julio slides out the passenger side behind you and Diego crawls over you to open the door above your head and tumble out.

You lay there for a minute, shaking. Looking up reveals his men receiving orders and Manuela reloading. A large number of cartel members are guarding the closed garage door and more are headed upstairs to sweep the penthouse. 

Slowly, you climb out, unnoticed in the commotion. You take stock of the damage, dozens of holes and indentations mar the black bodywork. Some are right where your head was. Too close.

It enrages you.

"AhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" You scream at maximum volume and kick the door shut with enough force to rock the heavy vehicle. The heel of your shoe snaps off to remain embedded in the metal. The garage echoes your fury and nothing else as it fades to silence.

You whip around to face Diego and his men. Everyone is frozen in place, not a single muscle tics. Your fiancé is staring at you with huge eyes.

"Kill. Her." You growl. Your shoes get ripped off and flung away with extreme force. Your voice is wrecked from the berserker scream, you sound demonic as you stalk up to him and grab his shirt. "Kill. Her!" You repeat at a higher volume. Diego squints down at you in obvious concern.

"Do you think the shooting started right after she left BY ACCIDENT?!?" You are heedless of your audience, caring only for Diego's attention. Big hands come up to your forearms, trying to calm you against your will. He watches you closely as you pant, you know your face is red because you can hear your own pulse. You go to break away and his grip turns to steel. Diego slams you back against the door you kicked closed and pins you to the ruined metal by your wrists and hips.

Your anger morphs into fear which then fades into arousal as you feel the raw power of his body, Diego is holding your wrists so tightly it hurts. Quaking, you slowly look up to meet his eyes. The bearded jaw is tense, a muscle in his cheek jumps, and his eyes are burning. But it isn't rage you see in that smolder.

"Leave us. Now!" Diego barks ferociously. Underlings scatter but your attention is captured by the powerful man you agreed to marry. He leans in close, stealing your breath, to whisper, "If I bring her to you, will you do it?"

Will you? Would you really kill somebody?

They tried to kill me.

"Yes, baby." Your voice is low but even. Your nerves may be shattered but your resolve is solid.

Diego moans roughly, his face screwed up in a flood of emotions, then dives down to take your mouth. You open wide but can do nothing else. Body limp in his hold, you don't even want to do anything. His tongue slides on yours and he tastes like dark liquor and desperation. The beard rubs your sensitive skin raw as your mouth is seized, it ignites a fire so hot that you rub your thighs together pathetically. Diego is the only person to whom you have ever wanted to just submit. 

The level of trust you place in this man is monumental.

He releases your hands and steps back decisively. The sudden lack of support makes you stumble before catching yourself with a hold in his shirt. You blink dazedly, "Wha??"

Diego grips the back of your neck and steers you to the elevator. The doors open and Julio steps out with an appraising look.

"All clear. Bastian stayed upstairs, I'll take over down here. Gordita." He nods to you affectionately.

"Thank you." Your gratitude is deep and Julio smiles softly. Diego pulls you into the elevator and jabs the door close button. When you turn around to look at him you can see his big body shaking faintly.

"Baby." You breathe and reach for him. Diego allows you to fold him down into your embrace and winds those long arms around you. Its not often that Diego requires reassurance or displays contrition.

"This is my fault, Princess. And I will fix it." The dark voice in your ear is dripping with danger. Your stroke over his hair while he nuzzles into your neck, those huge hands tight on your waist.

"You didn't know. I think I was the target the whole time, despite being virtually unknown. And I agreed to come, if I had declined you wouldn't have pushed me." You squeeze his broad shoulders and kiss his jaw. 

"You could have died." He whispers softly. There is real fear in his voice, his defeated posture. It breaks your heart when he croaks, "I cannot lose you."

"But I didn't. You protected me, like I trust you to do. And I could die at any time. Car crashes, freak accidents, medical emergencies, anything could happen." You reason logically. Its probably not helpful in this moment, but its just how you are.

"Fine. Fair. Now stop." Diego mutters, not pleased with your sensibility. "I misjudged. It won't happen again."

You bury your nose in his shirt to inhale, his scent calms your nerves. "I broke a shoe. It probably will happen again."

Diego absolutely loses it and collapses onto you. His rasping howls of laughter are endearing and you giggle with him. His weight makes you hunch over a bit and your cleavage jiggles with his convulsions. Diego buries his face in your ample bust and continues laughing madly. 

When the elevator opens to Bastian's anxious face he just shakes his head at how weird you two are. 

------------------------

Your laughter dissolves into tears the instant you cross the threshold to the bedroom. The adrenaline is bleeding away and you feel numb. Your hands shake so badly that you can't get undressed. Stumbling into the bathroom, you stand in the middle of the room crying against your will while Diego starts the shower. He pops out from behind the clear divider wall and strides right up to you, dripping wet and uncaring. 

"Princess." He sighs deeply and strips the dress up over your head, dropping it to the floor. Your hands stroke over his gleaming chest, reminding yourself that he's okay, Diego is whole and unharmed. You lean your forehead on his chest and sigh as he unhooks your bra, it drops to the floor at your feet and Diego goes to kick it away… only for the strap to get caught on his toes, forcing him to flick his foot in ever more violent movements until the offending garment is flung off through the doorway and into the bedroom.

"Fucking bras." He mutters angrily. 

Your peals of laughter echo in the tiled room. 

"Remember what I said about the adrenaline mix being different when we used the handcuffs?" Your speech pattern is stilted from your jaw shaking violently. Diego's big hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your nipples hypnotically. Gradually, slowly, your body melts into him, his bigger frame taking your weight with ease. Your voice is even choppier this time, "I'll adj-j-just."

"I know you will, Princess." Diego murmurs into your hair. Nipples now pebbled from the gentle torture, he moves on to new territory, specifically your ass. Diego grips huge handfuls of squishy flesh and kneads, lifting you to your toes. You moan into his chest, rubbing your skin on his. Backing up, he pulls you along with him, "Here, come."

Bracing your hands on those magnificent biceps, you let your fiancé manhandle you (mostly) softly. Diego backs into the shower and you're swept along with him. His hands glide higher, over your waist to settle around your upper abdomen just under your chest, and then he lifts. 

"Eep!" Your tiny squawk is met with a husky chuckle as Diego perches you on the seat in the back of the shower. The tile isn't slippery with condensation yet and you're still too short to hit the high ceiling, so you can stand easily. Conveniently, Diego's face is just above your crotch. 

"Turn around." He rumbles. The dark eyes looking up at you are black with hunger. Diego licks his lips obscenely and you whine with want. You have no idea what he's going to do and you want it desperately. The tile is cold on your nipples and you shiver violently. "Now be a good girl and show Diego that pussy."

Its been well over a year, mutual confessions of love, international travel, an engagement ring, and he can still flame your face and melt you with mere words. Your feet spread automatically and you sink your back to poke your ass out. Heat washes over your core and you realize that Diego is inhaling your scent. His groan of pleasure makes you drip. Huge hands climb your inner thighs to pull your pussy wide open to his inspection. 

Its both humiliating and excruciatingly exciting to be in this position, precarious enough that you're cautious about moving, completely exposed, all you can really do is take whatever he gives you. One large finger bumps your clit minutely and you squeak, then he uses two fingers placed on either side to retract your hood. The direct pressure of tiny circles on your clit is electrifying, but the addition of a hot tongue leisurely lapping over your entrance liquefies your knees. You're so wet that its audible over the sound of the shower.

"Baby…" You sound like a phone sex operator and it bolsters your courage a tiny bit. "Fuck, I love your tongue."

"Mmmm." Diego's growl is almost sensory overload. He licks every inch he can reach while never faltering on your clit. You can feel his nose sliding between your cheeks and it is enticing. You must have quivered if his next words are any indication, "I'll take this fat ass, too, little girl."

And he does. His right hand spreads you wide and he licks up over your asshole, the beard scrapes your pussy deliciously raw as you keen wordlessly. Diego dives back down to spread your slick higher with each lap. The textural contrasts are driving you insane. That sinful tongue presses into you with each pass, deeper and deeper until the tip dips inside. 

Everything fades away for a moment and the only thing you know is Diego between your legs. He moans and presses further, it feels indescribable. You’ve tried anal before with fingers, it was uncomfortable and did nothing for your orgasm. This feels completely different. Your hands flail, then the left reaches behind you to thread fingers into his hair. The engagement ring catches and pulls a little, making Diego jerk and sigh. Fucker has a commitment kink, the thought makes you choke.

The growl from behind you rolls up your spine and directly into your brain. Diego changes tactics to reach around your front and rub your clit the same way you do, but never stops fucking your ass with his tongue.

"I want," you whine into the wall, hips jerking. Diego rubs the goatee harder. You suck in a shuddering breath, "Wanna come. With some part of, of you. Fuck! Inside me. In-inside. Please." Your plea is met with an appreciative rumble that makes your eyes roll back. Your begging continues, "Anything, fuck, baby, please. Please please."

Diego pulls back to sink teeth into the left globe of your ass. Your yelp is muffled, but still ridiculously high pitched. He pets over your posterior, then you feel slippery fingers where the tongue was only moments ago. 

"That can be arranged, Princess. Anything...huh? What about anywhere?" His breathless taunt gives you pause. One well lubed finger presses against your rear and you truly do want it. You already feel loose and pliant, buzzing with endorphins. Swallowing hard, you nod tightly.

"Yeah." The tiny squeak of submission makes your predator practically vibrate. Diego pushes gently, you can feel the slick of lubricant, both natural and artificial, everywhere. The pressure pulses gently, each push just a tiny bit more intrusive, until the tip of his finger is inside your ass. 

"Fuck, bonita. Such a good little Princess." The rough praise only loosens you further, but you squirm with the new and odd sensations. "So tight," he continues with a groan, "You let Diego fuck this fat ass? Huh? Take it like a good girl?"

"Yeah, yeah. Oh my god, fuck." At this point you might agree to anything as long as he makes you come. Your back sags further and you gasp as his thick finger sinks in to the knuckle. Its a lot and you freeze for a moment. Diego holds steady, letting you breathe and assess. When no protest occurs to you, he resumes rubbing your clit and Oh holy fuckin' shit.

You know its only one finger, but he feels huge to your inexperienced body. Full and stretched, not in pain, necessarily, but you can't say its comfortable, precisely. What you can say is that it drives you wild to be pinned to the wall and pleasured almost forcefully. Your entire pelvis is trembling tautly, you can feel the orgasm welling up, building ever higher. Tears escape and your mouth goes without your consent. "Please, oh fuck. Pleasepleaseplease, yeah baby. Yeah. I want it. I want." 

"Pretty Princess. Go on. Come for Diego while he fucks both your holes." The finger in your ass rotates as he repositions his hand, there's a brush of contact to your folds, and then, Fuuuuuck, then two fingers slide home in your pussy.

Your entire consciousness collapses down to your core and then snaps. Waves of contractions so strong that they make your abdomen spasm wash over you. You clamp down on every part of him that's inside you and wail. The ecstasy is only compounded by your every sense being overfilled with Diego.

"Yes, mi amor. Come for me. Come all over your Diego." The possessive tone is gratifying as Diego rides you out. Your legs shake, then buckle, your upper ass lands on his broad shoulder and Diego is quick to extract his right hand. The feeling of his finger withdrawing rapidly is intensely weird. The left hand abandons your clit to catch you in the chest, allowing your limp form to slide down his front. His hard cock leaves a sticky trail up your asscrack before it comes to rest poking into your lower back. Your legs are still wobbly and you hang onto his thick forearm for balance.

"Oh god. What the fuck. What. The. Fuck." You ramble. Did I really just come with his finger up my ass??

"Bend over." The strained rumble comes as Diego is lowering your hands to the bench, folding you in half. You teeter briefly, but manage to keep your balance. Diego grips your hips sternly and thrusts his dick between your cheeks.

"Uhh, what. You're not gonna, I don't think I can take-" 

"Relax." Diego chuckles, but it is definitely strained. Those big hands squeeze meaningfully when you lean away tensely. Diego continues thrusting in long, lazy strokes as he growls, "Come on your back. Wanna see this pretty ass covered in my come."

Oh. Okay then. Your brain is too scrambled to be concerned. It only takes a dozen or so strokes before Diego is snarling and snapping behind you, painting your butt and back white. 

"Ahhh, yesss. My good girl. Perfect little Princess." He slaps your ass to produce a jiggle and you crash forward into the wall. Diego flops onto the bench beside you and pulls your cooked spaghetti form into his lap. His come smears between your back and his front, Eww.

You start giggling again. 

"Now what?" Diego asks wryly. He's limp beneath you, that big body twitching periodically. You take in his huge feet below your dangling ones, his long legs melted under your weight. The broad chest rises and falls rapidly, it jostles you gently, he's still recovering. His scratchy chin lands on your right shoulder and Diego lolls his face into your hair. Your fingers lace with his and rest on your rounded belly.

"You're so nasty." You chortle. "I fuckin' love it."

[sugarsugarmoon]

Happy to Help

Summary: You have a terrible day, and Namjoon will do whatever he can to comfort you.

Genre: Fluff (with a hint of smut if you squint)

Word Count: 1616

a/n: I also wrote this one for @cheba-o . 4 Days of Floof is what I’m calling it.�� Everyone I know seemed to have a pretty bad day today...And that picture that Joon posted today got me feeling some type of way, so this got a little spicier than I planned initially.

You are already running 20 minutes late when you get outside and see the frost on the windows of your car. You throw your head back in exasperation. You forgot that December is the time of year where you need to give yourself 10 extra minutes because you have to get the remnants of the frigid weather off your car.

You don’t have any gloves, so your fingers burn like they’re on fire as you scrape away at the ice on your windshield. Of course, your 8:00 AM class is with the one professor who has an attendance policy. If you’re late again after today, she’s going to drop your grade by 10%.

Once you’re finally in your car, you drive toward the art school where you’ve been studying for the past 3 years. Your car is trying to blow hot air through the vents, but it’s the same frigid air as outside. You feel the cold stinging in your eyes, and your ears start to burn like your fingertips. “I hate winter,” you grumble to yourself.

When you finally pull into the parking lot, you park near the back of the lot since it has filled up. You started walking briskly toward the building, only focusing a little bit on the icy ground. You make it to the sidewalk and take one step before you feel your foot slip. It isn’t a sort of slip. It is a both-feet-slide-from-under-you-and-you-are-momentarily-parallel-to-the-ground kind of slip. When you land, you land hard. You hear the ice crack beneath you as your ass slams into the ground. Because you tried to catch yourself, both your wrists get pushed a little too far and cause a sharp pain in your hands and up your arms. You lie on the ground for a moment. Deciding whether or not to cry. Instead, you start laughing. Uncontrollably laughing. Shaking. Head gently rest on the icy ground.

You eventually get up and head to class. The day carries on going wrong. Your professor yells at you for being late in front of the whole class. You get blue paint on your charcoal drawing. You drop your phone and the back shatters. You accidentally send a text that you meant to send to your friend to your mom. She texts you back yelling at you for your vulgar language, and then she proceeds to tell you that you are not going to be getting together as a family for the holidays because your parents have decided to go on a “no kids” cruise. By the end of classes, you can’t wait to get home, tuck into some ice cream, and have a good cry.

Your body is still sore from the fall, and you feel the tears stinging behind your eyes. You decide to call your friend, Namjoon, because he always has the best advice. He sounds sleepy when he answers, but, when he hears your tone, he immediately invites you to his house. Well...he immediately tells you that you are coming over.

You pull up to Joon’s place, hoping that he won’t ask you to talk about it because you don’t think you can tell him without crying. You’ve always had a soft spot for Kim Namjoon. He has always looked after you and cared for you when you felt broken. He’s always given you the stern talking to you needed when you were being out of line. He’s always helped you work through fights with parents, friends, and siblings. Despite all of the help that he’s given you, he never makes you feel like a burden; he seems happy to do it.

When you knock faintly on the door, he swings it open with a smile on his face. He looks amazing in the fitted black tee that he’s wearing, and you can’t help but melt into him. You press your face into his firm, broad chest, and he throws his arms around you. 

“Okay...okay. Hey it’s okay,” he mutters to you, slightly startled by the sudden contact.

As he pulls you deeper into your chest, everything from the day comes spilling out of your eyes. The tears roll down your cheeks, your shoulders shake, your chest heaves, and you cry harder than you have in a long time. You cry so much that it feels like you are never going to stop crying. You aren’t even sure that you’re crying about your bad day anymore. The tears keep flowing from your eyes, and the sobs keep flowing from your mouth.

Namjoon caresses the back of your head and lets you cry for a long time. He finally starts to get a little worried after several minutes.

“Hey. Hey. Come on now. It’ll be okay,” he says as if afraid if he speaks too loud or too harshly it will break you.

“No, it won’t,” you lament. “I’m dumb and my art isn’t that good and my parents don’t care and I hurt myself.”

You carry on sobbing. Joon bends his knees and stoops lower to look you in the eye. Your eyes are a little blurry from all the crying, but you can see the warmth and love in his gaze.

“Please don’t talk about my friend like that. What can I do to help?” he asks matter-of-factly. “Just please stop crying so hard. I’ll do whatever I can.”

You think for a second, and you realize the one thing that you want to help you feel better. The one thing that you’re worried he would say no to.

“No, it’s stupid. Nothing,” you mumble.

“No, come on, y/n. Just tell me. Is it ice cream? Because ice cream isn’t stupid.”

“No, don’t worry about it. Nothing.”

“Y/n, I’m not going to stop worrying about it until you tell me,” he says, crossing his arms and firming his stance.

“Fine,” you huff. “Would you...would you kiss me?” You glance at him, worried that maybe you crossed a line. You lower your eyes, hoping he still wants to be your friend after you said such a stupid thing.

You look up and begin to open your mouth to respond, but then Namjoon wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you toward him. You gasp in surprise as your body presses to his once again. He grabs your chin and angles your head toward him. He closes his eyes and leans in. Oh god. This is happening. You’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss his pillowy lips for years, and now he’s leaning in to you. Mayday mayday!

Then his lips are on yours. Still at first, but then you’re moving, kissing each other slowly, gradually becoming more and more fierce. The more you kiss him, the more you realize that you don’t want to do anything for the rest of your life except kiss him. You want to breathe him in, his mouth on your mouth until time stops. 

Your hands move from your side to wrap around him, running your nails gently along his back. One of his hands slides from your waist to the swell of your ass. He doesn’t grab it, just rests his hand there.

He swipes his tongue across your lips, tenderly requesting access, and you let him in. At his lips’ touch, you feel yourself bloom, and you slip your tongue against his. His teeth capture your lower lip, and small moan escapes from within you. You slip your hands from his back to the hem of his shirt, alone the waistline of his pants. Your fingers ghost across his skin, and it seems to snap him out of the trance you we’re both in.

He pulls away, slightly breathless. Panting and trying to focus his eyes.

“We shouldn’t…” he says blushing and looking at the floor.

You stare at him, blinking. Unsure what exactly just happened and unsure what to say to him now.

“I would feel like I was taking advantage,” he explains. “You’re so sad and cried so hard. I wouldn’t want you to do anything just because your sad.”

“It’s not just because I’m sad!” you exclaim, eyes wide. “I want you, Joon. I really really do.”

He groans in his chest and gives you a serious look. “I’m not kidding, y/n. I’m not having sex with you today. If you still want, we can have sex tomorrow and every other day after that. But today, I just want to hold you and help you feel better.”

“Can we at least keep kissing?” you ask in a whine.

He chuckles. “Yes, in a little while. First, I want food. I can make us some pizza,” he declares confidently.

“Oh...no...how about we just Postmates something?” You say, trying not to hurt his feelings with your distrust for him in the kitchen.

He raises his eyebrow at you, but ultimately agrees. You plop down on his couch, curling your feet under you as you pull up the app on your phone. He sits next to you, snaking an arm around your waist as he leans in to see the options on your phone.

Eventually, you land in pizza from a local place. He kisses your lips a few more times before you place the order. You turn and look into his eyes, deep brown like rich earth after a rain storm, steady and embracing. You press your body against his and curl even further into his side, resting your head on his chest.

“You know, Joonie, I do feel a lot better,” you say earnestly.

He squeezes your side a little and says, “Always happy to help,” with a sly grin on his lips.

[dontshootmespence]

A Heavenly Diversion

Summary: They’re both fighting a war. And they both need a distraction.

Pairing: Megstiel

Word Count: 1,550+

Warnings: Little bits of hair pulling, spanking, knife play, bondage, a creampie and a collar.

A/N: For those of you 18 and over! This fulfills my @spnkinkbingo square for collars.

Under the dim lights of the room, the cherry red rope seems to deepen and glisten like blood. The contrast between the sturdy ties and her delicate skin brings a smile to his face. “Seeing you like this…” He can’t bring himself to finish his thought but she knows. Oh, does she know.

“What happens if someone finds us?” She asks, her arms heavy with the full weight of the rope. “I have all kinds of nasties after me. Demons and angels alike.”

Castiel lifts Meg’s hands above her head, affixing them to the hook he’d dangled from the ceiling. “Do you trust me?”

“You know I do, Clarence.”

When he places his hands on her collarbone, a jolt of pain rolls through her, an icy burn spreading across every facet of her body. It hurts like hell, but at his hands it feels like coming home. Her mouth drops open, the delicate ‘o’ form of her lips inviting Castiel in a way it takes much strength to ignore. That’s not what she wants or what he needs just yet. “That was angel warding etched into your ribs. I have faith you’ll be able to take on any demon you come across on your own.”

“You know me,” she smiles.

Her limbs already feel heavy as they sway above her head, but she’ll endure it – enjoy it. She’s a little fucked up, but so is he, the angel that rebelled against heaven. Isn’t everyone a bit fucked up? “Are you gonna sit there and just stare at me, Clarence?”

Crouching down, he whispers in her ear. “I think I might. I know, what was it you said, it “makes your meat suit all dewy.”

“You remember,” she chuckles.  

Deep brown eyes go alight with darkness within when she sees the glimmer of the knife against his jeans. Instead of donning his signature trench coat and tie, he’s blending in, a relaxed gray t-shirt and black jacket completing the look in his cerulean blues. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought Cas had fallen farther than heaven to earth.  

Him clothed, her bare before him – it makes her feel small. It’s not a feeling she’s used to or one she’d become accustomed to for anyone but him. But it is one she revels in. “What’cha gonna do with that?” She asks, her voice dripping with anticipation as she stares at the knife.

“Make you feel,” he replies. He stands up and begins to stalk around her, like a predator to his prey. He loves seeing her like this, adoration specked with the slightest hint of fear. “Like this.”

She shivers when the sharp edge of the knife skates from the bottom right side of her collarbone and around the back of her neck to the other side. There’s no blood, but it’s definitely rushing to the surface. The peace flowing through her makes her entire body heavy, her knees digging into the soft floor. His nickname rings through her head; there’s no heaven, no hell, no war, no Lucifer, nothing. It’s just here and now and feeling.

Cas crouches down again behind her, his breath hot on the shell of her ear. “Look down,” he commands. “So wet already.”

She practically mewls for him, causing his already hard cock to strain against the confines of the denim he’s wearing. He doesn’t stand up, instead resting his forehead against hers as the point of the knife rests against her collarbone. “I need to watch,” he breathes.

With practiced precision, he presses the tip of the knife into her soft skin and pulls down, watching as the blood pools up and out, a thin red line sliding down her chest and over her nipple. Meg’s eyes dilate at the feel of the burn, eyes trailing down her body, telling him where she wanted the next one and the one after that.

Before she knows it, there are red streaks down her stomach and breasts. The feeling of him drinking her in is intoxicating. “I think I need one more, Clarence.” She glances over her shoulder and he knows where to go, the headiness of the moment making it difficult for even him to move, his limbs heavy with satisfaction.

When Cas pushes the tip of the knife into her shoulder blade, she cries out, the high-pitched whimper so unlike the vessel he knows. He rakes the knife down, all the way to the small of her back before he unhooks her, a chuckle escaping him when her bound arms fall to the floor with a thud.

She bends over, stomach to the ground, ass in the air.  Wiggling slightly, she chuckles when she hears his exhalation of breath. For a rebellious angel, he still has remarkable self-control. His hand comes down on her ass, the sting somehow even more fulfilling than the blade. “You learn that from the pizza man, too, angel?”

Meg stares with rapt attention as Cas pulls his coat off and throws it to the floor before reaching behind him and gathering the cotton t-shirt between his shoulder blades. When she glances down to his pocket, she sees something sticking out. “What’s that?”

“That’s for you,” he replies, pulling the item out of his pocket. It’s a red chainmail necklace – a choker. “Now, I wouldn’t dare think about tying you down, but even when you’re away from me, I want you to have a reminder of me.” She leans forward and closes her eyes as he fixes the necklace around her. “Each chain has the word ‘mine’ etched into it in Enochian.”

For a split second, Meg feels a swelling of emotion, but that’s not her and he knows it too, so she’s not surprised when she replies. “It’s beautiful, but are gonna go back to the x-rating soon? I need to be fucked. Need to feel your cock.”

When she reaches for his zipper, he laughs and pulls away. “I enjoy your desperation.” He waits for a moment, drinking in the picture of the woman collared before him. “Arch your back for me.”

Without hesitation, Meg does as he commands, eyes facing forward as he walks behind her. Out there, people can think what they want – him the wayward angel and her the headstrong demon – but in here it’s different. It’s perfectly, wonderfully, amazingly different in a way she never expected to have.

As he unfastens the buttons on his jeans, he drops to his knees behind her. She pushes back, body searching for him, her heated sex desperate for his fullness. When he places his hand on her ass, she feels the familiar tingle of his grace. “Don’t. Not yet.”

“As you wish.” Instead, he smacks her right ass cheek and then the left in quick succession, watching as her skin ripples beneath his touch. Moaning, she bites her lip to keep from screaming when his hand comes into contact with her ass, rhythmic slaps creating a delicate red bloom across the pearl white of her body. “Should I fuck you? Do you think you deserve it?”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely,” she croons. “You make me feel good, I’ll make you feel good. Promise, Angel.”

Cas lined his cock up against her slit and pushed inside, encountering absolutely no resistance. She was so wet and needy for him. Preferably, he’d stay here, buried inside her forever – forget the rest of the outside world. “That’s it, Clarence. Lose a little control for me, would ya?”

He groans and reels back, feeling her slick wash over him as he pushes into her pussy over and over again. Reaching up, he grabs her hair and gathers it into a ponytail, tugging gently before giving it a harder yank that makes her yelp.

“Harder, Angel. You know I can take it.”

Meg bows her head to the floor, the intensity of his touch and the burn of her wounds too much to take.

“Close your eyes and feel, Meg.”

In an instant, she relaxes more, practically turning into a puddle beneath him as his cock pumps into her over and over and over again. She tightens around him and begins to push back, fucking herself with him. He can’t help but return the favor, picking up the pace of his thrusts, the sound of her whimpers and whines driving him wild. “Come inside me, Cas. Let me feel it.”

As he continues to thrust, he throws his head back, grunting into the air. Though they’re warded from angels, he wants to scream – make her scream – for all of them to hear. She milks his cock and he knows he’s close, his breaths ragged and strained, voice starting to catch in his throat. When his muscles spasm, he buries himself inside her to the hilt and lets go, thick spurts of come coating her walls.

“You sure know how to treat a lady right.”

Chuckling, he pulls her up, her back, still bleeding from the earlier cuts coming flush against his muscled chest. He massages her breasts, his grace working away the wounds in slow swirls while he sucks a deep red mark into the side of her neck. “This will stay with you a while. That and the red marks on your ass.”

“And this,” she grumbles lowly, slipping a finger underneath the new metal choker. “Nice to know I got the wrath of heaven on my side.”