#they will wring you out and move on to the next person leaving you a husk

[thatacotargirl]

Hiiiii I love your writing!! May I request Azriel x Reader, where reader gets amnesia. She’s Illyrian and was hurt by Illyrian men, so she’s scared of Az because she doesn’t remember him. Then wonderful angst because he never thought she’d be afraid of him, so he avoids her and is heartbroken. Then something happens, maybe he’s forced to interact with her or he says something specific, and her memories come back, so happy ending! Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to write this, thank you!💙

Hi lovely! Thank you so much for reading my work and for your request! I hope you like the story! 💙

Divider is once again from @tsunami-of-tears, eternally grateful to you for your creativity!

Dazelroot Daze

An Azriel x Reader imagine

Warnings: angst, poisoning, swearing, allusions to abuse / previous SA.

"Rhys, I am not cut out for this kind of mission - why did you not send Nesta!"

You huff to yourself as you climb the uneven stairs through the prison, following closely behind Rhys. You hated coming in here, and hated having to interact with the Bone Carver even more. You patted your back pocket, checking your gifted bone for him was still there, before climbing yet another stairwell.

"Y/n, you know I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't necessary. I can't exactly send Nesta in here even if she's only early in her pregnancy, they would sense it a mile off and she'd be a target. Not to mention, I don't fancy getting pummelled by Cassian for letting his pregnant mate in here".

You knew he was right, but it didn't make this any easier. You struggled through another narrow doorframe, trying to avoid smacking your wings against the wood, and stood in front of a metal gate. You hear Rhys hum to himself.

"What's wrong?".

"I've never seen a gate here before, this should be an open walkway".

You begin to feel uneasy as you see Rhys take a step back.

"Rhys?"

Before you can get another word out, you feel a powder cover your face, filling your nose and mouth, causing you to choke. You try to call out for help, but you can't get anything out, breathing becoming harder and harder. You hear Rhys distantly calling your name but you can't respond, can't move, all you can do is drop to the floor, your legs giving out from underneath you.

"Get Madja, now!"

Rhys' voice bellowed through the River House as he winnowed in carrying your lifeless body and placed your down on the living room sofa. The rest of the Inner Circle descended on the pair of you, including Azriel. When he saw your pale body, arm hanging off the sofa, his heart sank. He grabbed Rhys by the collar.

"What the fuck happened?"

Rhys didn't have time to answer before Madja appeared in the room, pushing everyone to the side and leaning over your body. Silence descended on the room as she ran tests, took bloods, checked your vitals - all the while your eyes remained closed and your body limp.

"She has been poisoned with a plant known as Dazelroot. It is highly toxic and can only be found in some very remote parts of the Spring Court. Thankfully, it looks like this particular strain was either incorrectly handled or extremely dried out, as it hasn't taken hold quite as potently as it should have. She will be ok, in that she will live, but we won't know the consequences until she wakes up".

"The consequences?", Feyre asks.

"I have never seen a person be poisoned with Dazelroot and live to tell the tale. We won't know what it will do to her until she wakes".

Feyre sobbed silently, her shoulders shaking. Nesta joined her, the sisters holding each other through their sadness. Cassian could only watch in horror as Azriel fell to his knees next to your body and cried into your shoulder.

"Madja, what can we do?", Rhys asks, wringing his hands.

"There's nothing, Rhys. We have to let her wake, and see what happens next. I'll be on hand, as will my assistants. Call us as soon as she wakes up".

Rhys shook Madja's hand and allowed her to leave, his grief weighing down on his shoulders heavily. It was his fault that you were in the prison, that he hadn't seen the trap beforehand, that you were the one to be poisoned. He tried to reach for Azriel, but Azriel swatted his hand away.

"Don't touch me", he gritted, his face still buried in your shoulder.

Rhys could do nothing but watch as his family fell apart in front of him.

It took 6 days for you to wake. 6 agonising days of your family watching your chest rise and fall, terrified that you would never again open your eyes. But you did.

Your eyes opened, and fell on Feyre's face.

"SHE'S AWAKE", Feyre called to your family, reaching out for your hand. You let her take it, but she couldn't overlook the confusion she saw in your eyes, the hesitancy of your body to let her touch you.

The room filled with your family and your eyes settled on a pair of Illyrian wings. Male Illyrian wings. Trauma racked through your body, memories of your life at the Illyrian camps, wing-clipping, assault, and you couldn't hold back your scream as you pulled your body up the bed, as close as you could get to the headboard.

"Y/n?", Azriel said gently, attempting to approach you. He froze when he realised it was him that you were trying to get away from.

Madja burst through the door at that moment, having been summoned by Rhys the moment he heard Feyre's shouts. She saw the blankness in your eyes the second she looked at you, and her eyes fell pityingly to Azriel.

"Hi y/n, I'm Madja, a healer here in the Night Court".

Your family looked at each other in pure confusion. You knew who Madja was. She'd been the family's healer for centuries. Why was she acting like you'd never met before?

Madja carried out her assessment before providing you a sleeping tonic. Once your body settled back into the pillows, looking more at peace than you had when you had woken up, she turned to Rhys.

"The Dazelroot has caused amnesia. She doesn't remember anything after her life after the Illyrian camps".

Rhys shook his head. "Ok, but when will her memory come back?".

Rhys saw the look on Madja's face and his stomach somersaulted.

"Will her memory come back?"

Madja placed a hand gentle on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Rhys, there's no way to know".

She turned to Azriel, tears falling down his cheeks. He had realised that you had forgotten him, forgotten your mateship, the love you had shared for centuries. You only remembered the trauma you had faced at the hands of Illyrian males, males that bore the same wings as him. He had realised, seeing the look on your face, that you were afraid of him.

"You can try to offer her gentle reminders. It might break through the amnesia cloud. But there's nothing more we can do".

Madja departed, leaving your family to process the news. You didn't remember any of them.

17 months later

It had been 17 months since the incident, and your memory hadn't come back.

Feyre, Nesta, Elain and Mor had made it their mission to rebuild the friendship that you had had with them - regularly taking you out for brunch, shopping, and nights out at Rita's. Over time, you developed a new bond with them, and had started to trust them.

You had also re-kindled your friendship with Rhys and Lucien, the males giving you distance but engaging with you as often as possible, mostly through Feyre and Elain.

But Azriel and Cassian, you couldn't be near. Their wings reminded you too much of the trauma you had faced in the camps. Reminded you that your own wings had been clipped. Reminded you of the males that had used you for their own entertainment. Anytime they tried to approach you, their wings pinned as tightly as possible behind their backs, your body began to involuntarily shake and your eyes would fill with tears.

It had broken Azriel. He had become a shell of the former male he was. He started to withdraw from family dinners, he gave up his morning training. Azriel had slowly started to descend into a downward spiral, feeling the mating bond cold on the other end. His family had tried their best to help, but Azriel wanted for nothing but you. He locked himself in his bedroom most days and nights, seeking solitude in the shadows.

That was why, when his family decided to visit Sevenda's restaurant that evening, Azriel had ignored the inviting knock on his door. He didn't want to make it harder for you seeing him sitting at the other end of the table. He waited for the footsteps to pad away before grabbing a bottle of Whiskey from the shelf and pouring himself a generous glass.

-

Several hours later, Azriel was sat in bed with his book when he heard commotion. It sounded like crying, but it was pained. He sat up, listening out, when he heard it again - this time closer to his door. He thought everyone was out at Sevenda's, or maybe Rita's now, but there was unmistakably someone wandering through the hallway.

Azriel cracked open his door and peered out. At the end of the hallway, gripping the window pane, he saw your small frame huddled over. The scent of blood filled the air. Azriel panicked. He knew how bad your cycles were from the centuries you had spent together, that you needed help desperately, but right now he was the only one in the house with you, and you were terrified of him.

"Y/n?", he called out gently, trying not to startle you with his presence. He watched you turn slowly, your eyes wide in alarm.

"It's ok, it's just your cycle", he whispered, raising his arms to show you that he was not going to hurt you. You whimpered slightly, clutching the window pane so hard your knuckles had gone white.

"Can I help you?", he asked, not daring to move. You looked at him, his wings, your body shaking. But you knew you were helpless, not sure you could get yourself back to your bed even if you tried with all your might. So, you took a deep breath, and gave him a timid nod.

Azriel walked slowly towards you, his hands in front of him, and when he reached you he carefully put a hand forward to touch your shoulder. You shuddered, but didn't pull away.

"I'm going to take you back to your room, ok?". You could only nod as Azriel scooped you into his arms and walked you slowly back towards your room.

He placed you down carefully at your dressing table and silently walked into your bathroom, the sound of running water filling the room. Whilst the bath ran, you watched him strip the soiled sheets from your bed and replace them with fresh ones, putting a pair of your pyjamas neatly folded at the end. He then offered you his hand and guided you to the bathroom.

"Do you need some help?".

You didn't want to admit it, but you did. You could barely stand up under your own weight.

Azriel turned away from you to allow you to undress, holding a hand behind his back for guidance as you carefully lowered yourself into the bath. Once you were in, and hidden under the bubbles, you turned to look at him. At his wings. You had never known an Illyrian male to be so gentle. So calming. Even sat here alone in a bath with him in the room, you felt comfortable. You felt safe.

"Azriel?", you whispered.

"Would you like me to leave you be?" he asked, his back still turned to give you privacy.

"No".

You saw Azriel's shoulders sag slightly with relief, but he still kept his back to you.

"Please could you pass me that bottle over there, the green one?"

Azriel walked over to the counter to pick up the shampoo bottle and attempted to hand it to you behind his back, still not facing you. You giggled as he offered the bottle out to the empty end of the bath.

"It's ok, I'm hidden in the bubbles".

Azriel turned, his eyes not leaving your face, as he handed the bottle to you. You took it, pouring some into your hand, and he watched you wince as you raised your arms above your body to your hair, stretching your stomach.

"May I?", he asked quietly. You nodded, handing the bottle to him. Azriel knelt down behind your head, pouring the shampoo into his hands and massaging it into your hair. The moment his hands touched you, you felt a calming peace descend over you, and you closed your eyes to bask in it. You were about to ask him to rub it into the nape of your neck, your favourite place, when you felt his hands move there instinctively. A jolt went through your body, and Azriel jumped backwards.

"Are you ok?"

You turned to face him, his leathers covered in water, bubbles and shampoo suds, and looked down at his scarred hands. Visions flew through your mind of his hands in your hair, his hands offering to feed you grapes on your honeymoon to the Summer Court, his hands touching your body, his hands placing a ring on yours at your mating ceremony, his hands holding out your cup of coffee to you every morning - black, just how you liked it.

You reached out to take them, feeling every emotion come flooding back to you. A tug at your chest made you look up, as Azriel's filled with tears.

"My mate", you whispered.

"My mate", he replied, his head moving to rest on your forehead.

You held each other, the bath water turning cold and the bubbles melting away, allowing all your love and devotion to flow to each other through the bond. Forgotten, but never gone.

[gaywerewolfwithanxiety]

Teaching the campus fuckboy a lesson

NSFW WORK

Tags: sub!bottom male character x dom!top amab reader. Reader is referred to as they/them.

He had quite a reputation in your college for being a playboy, a heartbreaker, a man-whore. Everyone knows this but regardless, they continue to fall for him and get their hearts broken.

He has never noticed you much less flirt with you so when he invited you to his friends party, you were a little suspicious. Your hunch turned out to be right when you heard him conversing with his friends about how easily he will be able to sleep with you tonight and that he had won the bet the moment it came to existence. "After all they are just some loser virgin" he snickered.

You felt bitter but not surprised. You decided to play along, to teach him a lesson.

When he suggested that you two go into a room for some 'alone' time, you agree with a smile. Looks like he doesn't know what awaits him, you think to yourself.

Upon entering the room, he throws you towards the bed which was next a window and climbs on top of you, hovering over you."You wont be able to walk for days when I am done with you"

He chortled.

But then how did he end up in his position? Sitting on your lap fully naked and your cock stuffed inside him. Both of your clothes thrown into the floor ignored.

He whimpers, letting out a weak moan.

His walls clench around your shaft, his face buried in your neck. Though he was bigger than you, you had turned him into your personal cockwarmer, your whore.

Whenever he tried to shift around, you would slap his ass. Now it's fully red, covered with your handprint. Your tip brushes against his prostate, making him leak pre cum from his hard length. You had to admit, it was of an impressive length, maybe even bigger than yours. It's such a shame that it's completely useless.

You have been edging him for the past hour, you look at his dick and notice how precum continues to leak out of it, traveling from his red tip to the base of his cock. Feeling merciful, you start wringing the tip, squeezing the cum out of it. Eyes glazed over, he melts into you.

He starts moving again in a feverish way, moaning with each thrust. You leaned back a d grabbed his head to pull him into a sloppy kiss, his walls tightened around your dick. Its pure luck that you didn't cum right then and there

You pulled out of him, as he turned into a whining mess begging to have your cock back inside him. You shifted his position so that he was lying in the front, you got a exalting view of his ass and thick thighs.

Your hole was so tight just a few minutes ago but now it's loose and begging for my cock you snickered while sliding into him again, you almost pulled back, your dick nearly existing his hole before thrusting back in at a faster pace. You kept it up, his ass devouring your cock with each thrust.

You pull him close to your body, Your arms traveled down his torso, caressing each inch of it in a fervid way. Gripping his thighs, you spread his legs even further. He lets a gasp. While holding his legs open, you penetrate him at a fast pace. He begs you, not even knowing what he is begging. All he knew that your cock was drilling into him, your hands snaking around his body, and finally finding their way to his chest and starts groping his chest, playing with his red nipples.

'I wonder what your friends will say when they see you in this state' you spat out while continuing to pound into him.

He mumbles something that you couldn't understand. Looks like his mind has turned into mush, not even able to utter a single word.

After edging him for the past hour, you finally spill into him. Senting shockwaves through his body. His body convulses, shooting out his load.You pull out leaving him looking dishelved. You slip into your clothes and leave him while he is still has your cum inside him, dripping down to his thighs.

When his friends congratulated him for winning the bet and successfully 'fucking' you, he looks at you in a way that only you two are able to understand.

"Yea, they were definitely a virgin" he says while looking at you to see your reaction. Maybe you should just fuck him in front of his friends, that will teach him not to lie.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Say it Dirty - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

For my babes @cillmequick and @zablife. Enjoy!

Words - 1,467

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Alfie. One could never use the word tall to describe the gangster rum distiller of Camden town, but suffice to say, he is big. He takes up space. He has presence. Alfie is so wide in both physical width and the enormity of his personality, he fills whatever room he happens to be within.  

Everything about Alfie is imposing. That is why you fell for him in the first place. What gets your blood tingling with desire the most, though... 

“Next lad!”  

Oh, that enormous voice. He doesn’t shout often, but when he does, it sends your knees to jelly.  

“Next lad!” 

He’s handing out the weekly wages, the precise count out of pounds, shillings and pence into a small paper envelope, handing them to each of his employees for their, ahem, “baking” endeavours. The smell of the rum within the large casks fills your nose as you walk past them down in the dingy distillery, moving past the line and entering Alfie’s office.  

“Bear with me, sweetheart.” He doesn’t even need to look up from his desk to know you’ve arrived. He can smell the sweet notes of your perfume in a sea of rum and sweaty men a mile off. “Just gotta get these fellas paid, innit.”  

You perch on the edge of his desk, his hand moving to stroke your thigh fleetingly. “Next lad!” God, you’ll melt off the edge of the desk if you’re not careful. “Is there a fuckin’ reason you’re gorping, boy?”  

“Um, n-no, Mr. Solomons.”  

Alfie lowers his spectacles, raising his eyebrows. “You seriously comin’ in here for your pay, and giving me missus the once over with your beady little eyes while you’re here, eh? Nah, son. Off you fuck, while you still have them legs to carry ya. Just know, though. If I ever see you lookin’ at her like that again, yeah, it’ll be the last fuckin’ time you have eyes, mate.”  

The young man takes his wages with a stiff gulp. “S-s-sorry, Mr. Solomons.”  

“Ain’t me you was lookin’ at like a slab of meat.” He folds his arms, jerking his head in your direction, a smile spreading beneath his beard. “Apology should be directed at me wife, really.” 

“I apologise, Mrs. Solomons.” He’s steadier when talking to you, wringing his cap between his hands nervously all the same.  

Alfie studies you, watching you nod. “Alright, fuck off outta here. Next lad!” He scurries from the office, your husband continuing to hand out each wage envelope and mark it off with a pencil strike in the ledger. With the last lad paid, he stands, moving before you.  

“Now, how about I take my little turtle dove out for a bit of nosh, yeah?” Well, that’s the sole reason you came to meet him from work, after all. He goes for a quick wash and to change his shirt before you leave, yet when he returns, he finds you not quite as ready to leave as he is.  

The double take at seeing you sitting atop his desk naked is priceless, eyes touring your bare curves with much interest. “My darlin’, I dunno what kind of fuckin’ restaurant you think we’re going to, right, but it ain’t the kind where the customers sit about naked.”  

“Can’t help it,” you purr, pulling him close, hands smoothing over his fresh shirt. “See it’s when you raise your voice, Alfie, when you get defensive of me, too. It does things to me, that voice of yours.”  

He looks quietly thrilled at that. You don’t quite know how one can raise an eyebrow with cocky intent, but Alfie nails it every time. “Yeah, that right, love? You like the sound of my voice? Why don’t you sit on my cock while I talk to you, then?” 

Grasping his shirt, you pull him close. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, Alf.”  

Your lips meet in a slow tempest, all heat and honey, his hands beginning to glide where his eyes have already roamed, touring your bare flesh keenly. When his mouth follows, you whimper, each kiss sinking into your skin, the soft of his beard coaxing tickles over your flesh. Hot hands adorned in cool gold knead at your thighs, fingers slipping between.  

The sweet sting of him toying with your clit radiates, little pricks of pleasure trickling down your spine, puddling at those clever fingers, his teeth sharp at your neck. “Always did love my hands, didn’t ya, dove?”  

You hum in appreciative response against his tongue, mouths locked, those fingers you do indeed love so much thrusting within. He opens you, pushing greedily, his raspy chuckle low and self-satisfied at each little mewl that pours from your mouth like wine, your cunt clenching around each rotation as he roots those thick digits, so inordinately deep.  

“Fuck, get in the chair,” you pant, hands moving to slide his braces down, undoing his trousers. “I need to ride you. Now.” 

He chuckles, his thumb rolling over your clit sending sparks to skitter wildly. “Ain’t half a demanding little mare tonight, aint’cha?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, Alfie letting his trousers and undergarments fall to pool at his ankles, sitting down in the chair and guiding you astride him. “But then I always did know what’s good for me.” Taking him, you squeeze the thick of his rigidity, pushing him to your glistening opening and dropping down until you’re full.  

You can feel every inch of him pressing your soft walls, thick and heavy, his hand weaving into your hair and pulling until you arch for him, bending like a crescent moon. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, look at that body bow for me. Can’t wait to watch these pretty little tits bounce while you ride me, darlin’.”  

His mouth devours you, nipples sucked and bitten, his free hand grasping your hip as you begin to roll against him, his girth sending sensations to flutter up your spine, fizzing like champagne bubbles, the hint of teeth upon the peak of your nipple sending glimmers to join them. “Ain’t even half started properly yet, and this sweet little cunt is like a fuckin’ lake. Yeah, look at you. So fucking pretty for me, ain’t ya? So pretty and sweet, split open on me.”  

His words mist hot beneath your skin, rising like steam, the torrent of seductive filth unabating. “Think I could have you like this on me for hours, and I wouldn’t get tired of watching you gripping tight on my cock. And you would, wouldn’t ya? Yeah, you’d keep giving, my beautiful, cock hungry little doe.”  

His thumb stretches, and it sends a rain of pleasure pelting through you when he brings it to your clit, circling, your bundle twitching against the stroke, your toes gripping on the floorboards beneath as you begin to ride him with more determination. “That’s it, sweet. Show me how much you love this cock.”  

The moan seeps from your lips, sweet and slow, like thick syrup, the clasp of your cunt tight upon him, the sound of him punching into the very wet of you lewd, mixing with the slap of your arse smacking hard against his solid thighs. It’s a symphony of utter sin, his groans adding delicious baritone, your tits bouncing, his hands moving to clutch them as his tongue swipes your cleavage.  

His touch has lightning forking from nerve to nerve, your ministrations greedy in desperate need to come around him, wet his cock further with the dew of your orgasm, your hands fisting tight in his hair, a shift of his hips sending him deeper into the flutter of your cunt.  

You sob his name, and he pushes even deeper, so heavy and overwhelming within you. “Come on, my beautiful little darlin’. Come pretty for me on this cock.”  

Oh, how you do, the pleasure burning neon through your nerves, a sky of colours painted over you as it topples you completely. The scream it pulls from you has him twitching, and he becomes caught in the tide of it, cock pressed filthily deep into the rhythmic clasping of you, spilling hard, everything tense undoing and softening to fluid bliss. You both swim in it, adrift on the endless ocean, panting against one another.  

“Fuck, that worked up a right appetite,” he finally breaths, kissing your neck as you roll your eyes. 

“Do you ever cease thinking about your stomach?” 

He chuckles, low and dirty. “Yeah. I often think about how good me wifey feels when she fucks me like she just did. And you can count on it, treacle, that I’ll be thinkin’ about it for the rest of the night an’ all.” 

The way he keeps stealing heated glances at you all the way through dinner, you’re left in little doubt of that, too.  

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: still sick but still craving dick.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You drain the glass of water and cling to it. You’re at a loss of what to do next. You’re not just trapped by this man, you’re bound up in fear. It’s a real life horror movie. 

You stand and blink long and hard, trying to steady yourself. You turn, your legs stiff and straight, your movement slow as if walking through sludge. You stop and sway as you find Sy watching you from the doorway. 

No wonder you never noticed him before. He’s so quiet, you didn’t even know he was still in the room. Well, he is a soldier after all. That fact chills you more than anything. Even if you were more formidable, you still wouldn’t have a hope. 

He wears only a pair of thin gym shorts, low on his hips and displaying his thick stomach. He’s not really fat, just burly. He’s got hair fron chest to waistline, his stomach boxy with muscle but not perfectly defined. His arms are hug and bulge without flexing. 

You gulp and look down at the empty glass and walk forward. 

“I can get that, sweetie,” he offers as you come close. 

“No, it’s okay,” you murmur, “I gotta... finish up a few things anyhow.” 

He doesn’t move. His large body blocks the exit and you poke your tongue out to wet your dry lips. His eyes narrow on your mouth and he releases a heavy exhale. 

“Excuse me,” you voice quavers, “I’m just tryna... get past.” 

“Sweetie, you sound tired, maybe you should lay down,” he reaches for you and you flinch. You see him hesitate before he closes the gap, rubbing your arm with his large hand. “Hm, I could rub your feet, we could talk. We got a lot of catching up to do.” 

“I... M-maybe later, this project is a big one,” you lie. It’s really nothing. A sixty-dollar edit you could do in your sleep. “It’s a bit early, anyway, right?” 

His hand lingers as he looks down at you. His thick fingertips flutter up your shoulder and along your neck. He turns his knuckles to graze your throat before he frames your chin. 

“You’re much prettier in person, you know that?” He purrs, “especially when you smile.” 

Your lip quivers as goosebumps raise on the back of your arms, “thanks, Sy. Um, sorry, can I get through?” 

He rubs your jaw with his thumb and tilts his head. Finally he drops his hand and sighs, smacking the side of his leg as he backs up, angling to offer just enough room for your escape. As you step out, you can’t help but brush against him. 

“Mmm,” he hums, “you smell like flowers.” 

You grip the glass even tighter, “thanks.” 

“Everything about you is just so...” he trails after you, right at your heels, “perfect.” 

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s a sweet compliment but it really doesn’t feel like it. He follows you to the kitchen, once more planting himself in the doorway, his hand on the frame as he watches you. You cough and rinse the glass, leaving it beside the sink. 

You face him again and wring your hands. As you near, he moves without being told. You skirt around him and sit at the table. You try not to shake as you open the laptop. You pause but resist the urge to look around. Where’s your phone? 

You do your best to bottle up every thought. You don't want him to sense your panic. You need to stay calm until a chance comes up. You don’t know what or when, but it has to. 

You click onto Adobe Suite and reload the same project as before. He just stands there, by the wall. You're too nervous to check if he’s looking at you.  

You hear a peculiar tapping and Aika slithers past her owner. As she approaches, you swallow and brace yourself. She sits beside you and puts her head in your lap. You gape down, in relief and surprise, and daintily touch her head. 

“She likes you a lot,” he beams and walks around the other side of the table. He drags a chair out and sits, “I told her all about you. She was over there too. Sniffin’ out IEDs.” 

“Oh,” you glance at him over the laptop. “Wow.” 

A pang stabs your chest. For a moment, you feel bad for him. You can’t begin to imagine what he saw in a war. You presume being far from home is never easy but that’s all so much more intense. 

“Yeah, tough, but we made it through,” he proclaims, “easier to get on when you got something to come home to.” 

You nod and look at the screen. This is all sorts of messed up. How stupid are you? Why couldn’t you just keep a journal? Why did you have to stream your stupid life to the stupid internet? You just assumed that no one would care. Like usual. 

You drag your fingers around the touch pad, trying to focus on the actual work. That's the only real escape you have. You need to think about anything else. 

“I thought... I thought you made your money from your videos,” he says as pushes his shoulders back, his figure broader than the chair. 

“Mm, no. Um, you know, not many viewers. I edit for other people. Pictures, videos,” you answer. It’s easier to talk when you keep it clinical. “Weddings, stuff like that.” 

“Ah,” he sniffs, “well, not about how many followers you got, just that they’re good people, huh?” 

“Sure, uh, yeah,” you sputter. 

“You okay, sweetie?” His tone sharpens. 

“Sorry, I'm just... working,” your lip twitches. “You know, I just... wasn’t expecting... you. I usually work um, between videos, and I didn’t plan on doing anymore today.” 

“Huh,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek, “but you usually do one. One early, one late.” 

You shift and Aika nuzzles your thighs, huffing until your pet her again. You bite the inside of your lip as your face singes, “right, but I’m a little behind...” 

He’s quiet. You feel him staring. He probably can see right through your lies. 

“You’re a hard worker, sweetie, I woulda guessed so,” he stands and the chair scrapes loudly, making you wince, “let me get outta your way. I can wait a bit longer.” 

You don’t look up as his shadows blurs along the edge of your vision. You wait until it fades away before you dare to peek. The TV comes back to life and you exhale. It’s not exactly freedom, just room to breathe. 

🧸

You are anything but behind. You’re so desperate to dissociate, that you breeze through your current projects. In the background, Sy lurks, the couch creaking as he sits up, his footfalls against the floor as he paces, and the little clicks and clacks of his curiosity as he looks around your place. 

As your eyes begin to glaze over from the glare, he appears on the other side of the table, “hungry, sweetie?” 

You’re not. You shrug, not wanting to give the wrong answer. 

“I could order something. I know you just shopped and all but I don’t mind.” 

“You know, that’s nice but I’m still full from breakfast.” 

“Ah, yeah, that was a big one,” he agrees, “you know, those field rations made me a bit of a glutton once I got back to civilization.” 

“Oh. You’re welcome to cook for yourself or something,” you offer. 

“You gonna stay on that all night,” he points at the computer, “that sh—the light can’t be good for your eyes.” 

“No, um, I... just finished.” 

You close the laptop reluctantly. You hear the edge creeping into his timbre. He’s getting impatient. 

“Well, if you’re not hungry, how about I run you a bath? You’re tense, you should relax, sweetie,” his hands go to his hips and tugs up his shorts just a little. 

“Sure...” you murmur. 

He goes before you can say anything else. What else can you say? He’s crazy and it’s becoming more obvious by the minute. Maybe you are too for not screaming at him to leave you alone. 

Aika exhales and falls onto her side, stretching her long legs as she relaxes. Right, he’s not the only one you have to worry about. You get up and clasp your hands together. You walk around the table, once, twice, three times. 

You hear the faucet and shudder. You stop and look at Aika then the door. You could sneak out right then. Tell your neighbour there’s an intruder in your home. With all his things and his dog. And they would see him walking in with you on the cameras like everything was all good. 

Right. It’s an option but not better than the current one. You’re more likely to piss him off than get rid of him. 

“Got it running for ya,” he comes out and you push your hands down, fighting own your fear. 

“Thanks,” you say as you cross the room, “that’s so sweet.” 

“Yeah, sweetie, no problem,” he nears and you keep from shying away, “I’m just tryna take care of you.” 

“I... really appreciate it,” you eke out. 

“You just take your time,” he runs his hands up and down your arms. “Mm,” he bites his lip, “you’re just so pretty. I can’t believe you’re real.” 

Your chest wracks and your head swells. You can’t believe he’s real either. 

You force a smile and freeze as you sense him leaning in. He kisses the top of your head and purrs, “you just go get nice and fresh.” 

He releases you and reluctantly lets you go. You sidle past him cautiously. You don’t look back as you head for the bathroom. You shut the door behind you and let the air free from your lungs. Holy crud. 

You go to the tub and stare in at the rising water. You wait for it to fill up before you shake the daze. You undress and slide into the water. You lean back and grip the edges. The world is surreal. 

You’re too restless to enjoy the warmth. Usually you would find a bath soothing. You often take them with a candle burning and your favourite soap bubbled over the surface. You don’t think you’ll ever know peace again. 

You sit up and hug your knees. You sit like that for a while. You want to fall apart right there but you know you can’t. The thing that helped you so much has doomed you. 

You pull the stopper and get out. The water’s just making you cold. You dry off and wrap the towel around you. You pick up your clothes and go to the door, pressing your ear to listen to the other side. 

You turn the handle slowly and ease it inch by inch. He’s not there. You tiptoe out, vigilant as you cross the room. You turn into the bedroom and nearly let out a yelp. You didn’t really think he’d left but you could hope. 

“These are real cute,” he lays down the button up silk pajama shirt with the matching shorts. 

“Oh, uh, sure, um...” 

“Should be nice and comfy,” he faces you with a grin. 

“Well, uh, yeah, but...” you begin to argue. You don’t really sleep in those ones, you more lounge around. “Thanks.” 

You keep your arms across your chest, the tower firmly clutched around you. You look down at the set as he remains close. You wait. Is he gonna go? 

“Aren’t ya gonna put them on?” 

“Sure, uh,” you grab them, your other hand fisted around the top of the towel, “I’ll just go do that.” 

“You don’t gotta be shy with me,” he purrs, “but I guess you’re a nice girl, huh. You like to take it slow.” 

You press your lips together, “mhm.” 

You back away, wanting to run in the other direction. You turn at the door and leave him there. You can’t help but feel he’s already seen too much. 

You flit back to the bathroom and lock yourself in. You are about to combust. You tremble as you pull on the shorts, then the shirt. You hang the towel and linger by the door. 

He's really not going to leave. For whatever reason, you hoped he might call it a night and go. Why would he do that? He doesn’t do sane things. 

“Sweetie,” the knock on the door makes you jump. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, fine,” you squeak. 

The door handle wiggles. You flick the lock back and he pushes it open from the other side. He lets go of the handle and steps back, his eyes roving up and down your body. 

“Ah, sugar, you look... look real... good,” his voice is smoky as he spreads his hand over his chest. “Sweet little thing, just wanna eat you—up!” 

He surprises you as suddenly he has you off your feet. He has his arms around you as he lifts you and carries you away from the bathroom door. You yelp and hit his shoulder, wriggling and kicking. Oh no! 

“Sy, please, no,” you cry out but he ignores you, “no, no, no...” you panic finally overflow and your eyes glisten. He takes you into the bedroom and your heart pounds feverishly, “please...” you wisp before he tosses you on the bed, “don’t hurt me!” 

You bounce on the mattress and hold your hand up, bracing for his next move. When it doesn’t come, you part your fingers and look at him through them. He watches you with a line in his forehead. 

“You think I’m gonna hurt you?” He rasps. 

“I... you just caught me off guard,” you push yourself up on your elbows, “I didn’t--” 

“I was just playing,” he frowns, “having some fun with my girl. Wanted some snuggles, is all.” 

Despite it all, you actually feel bad. He sounds genuinely hurt. You sit up all the way and pout up at him, “Sy,” you utter softly, “I’m tired, I’m sorry.” 

He inhales so his broad chest rises and blows it out as he rubs his shaves head. He drops his hand and sniffs, “yeah, me too. Been a long day.” 

“So... so...” you quaver as you grasp at the last of your courage, “let’s just sleep it off.” 

His jaw ticks and he tilts his head until you hear a pop, “yeah, you’re right, sweetie. Think I just got overexcited.” 

You flutter your lashes as you hold back the wave of relief. It dissipates as soon as it rises. This isn’t over. You have a whole night ahead of you and brand new day. 

[fxrmuladaydreams]

her video (sv5)

pornstar!seb x camgirl/pornstar!reader

summary: sebastian helps you film a video for your channel

warnings: !!CONTAINS SMUT MINORS DNI!! smut, fingering, edging

prev part next part

You had gone out a few more times with Sebastian after the first shared dinner, meeting at different restaurants and cafés to get more comfortable with one another. The more you met with him the more you talked about the collaboration that seemed to become more and more set in stone.

You’d film a video for your channel and a video for his. He asked that you give him a list of your hard limits, of the things you were absolutely not okay with, then another of things you liked and wanted to try. He discussed the use of a safeword if it ever got to be too much, or if you were ever uncomfortable. You were surprised, you hadn’t worked with anyone before, so this was all a new experience, but Sebastian put a lot of planning and care into his preparations for your filming day.

He offered up a studio that he uses as a location, but you told him you’d be more comfortable in your home. He understood, he was once a fresh face too, and could remember how anxious he was when filming in a new place for the first time.

He showed up to your house fairy early, with a bag slung over his shoulder and a soft smile on his face.

“Hello schatz.” He greeted you as you opened the door. He was wearing light denim jeans and a white t-shirt.

“Hi Sebastian. You can come in, and just set your stuff wherever.” You told him, opening the door further for him.

“Can I keep this where we’re filming?” He asks, raising the shoulder his bag is hanging from.

“Sure. I set up my camera in my room, so we should be ready to start whenever.” You tell him wringing your hands. “Did you have any ideas?”

He gives you a confused look. “It’s your video schatz, we’ll do what you want to do.” He sees you nervously hovering near the door to your room. He takes slow steps towards you then takes one of your hands in his. “You’re in control here. You say the word and we stop. Okay?”

You nod up at him, and open the door to your room.

He has to take a moment to take a deep breath as you lead him inside. It looked just like it did in your videos, the same fluffy blankets, the same soft lighting coming in through sheer curtains at your window. He notices the basket of toys that sits next to your bed. Various dildos and vibrators sit inside it.

You glance down at the basket, then back up at the man next to you.

“I was thinking maybe we don’t use those?” You ask, your voice quiet. “It’s just, this is the first time I’m filming with an actual person, why not try something new?”

Sebastian hums in agreement, and sets his bag down near the door. “Yeah, we can forgo the toys.” He sits down on your bed. “So how do you want me?”

You take a deep breath. “Well I’ve seen your videos, and I like what you do in them, so could you maybe be like that? Like kind of mean, but not too mean?”

He nods. “So like a soft dom? Yeah I can do that.”

“Okay, great.” You step towards the camera. “I’m gonna start filming now, and I’ll edit it after we’re done. And I’ll send you the video before I post it just to make sure it’s okay, alright?”

“Of course.”

You press the button on your camera to start recording. Sebastian is sat on the bed, his eyes looking just past the camera at you, waiting for your next move.

You slowly walk over to him and climb onto his lap, straddling him. He leans forward about to kiss you, but you turn your head away.

“No kissing.” You whisper to him.

“Alright.” He presses his lips to your neck instead, leaving a soft trail of kisses in his wake.

You let your head fall to the side, giving him more room and close your eyes. His teeth scrape against your skin, causing a whimper to fall from your mouth. He smirks and slowly moves his hands under the bottom of the dress you’ve chosen for the video.

He brushes against the lacy panties you picked out, his fingers toying with the fabric at your hips.

“How about we see what’s under this pretty little dress?” He asks. His voice has a teasing lilt to it.

He turns you to face the camera, then slowly pulls the dress up off of you. He pulls you back down onto his lap, your legs open over his, still facing the camera. His hands travel over you, softly massaging your skin as they move over your body. His fingers play with the straps of your bra, then move back down your stomach, hovering over your panties.

“So pretty.” He says in your ear.

You gasp when you feel him softly press his fingers against your panties. He slowly traces them up and down, feeling the lace start to become damp.

“You’re already getting wet for me?” He smirks.

“Please.” You whine, your body rolling to meet his hand.

“Look at you, already so desperate.” He taunts.

His left hand goes back up to your bra, undoing the hook in the back and throwing it to the side. Your tits fall out, now rolling with the movements of your body. He cups a breast in his hand, squeezing the flesh. He softly pinches your nipple between his fingers, smiling at the soft moans you let out.

His other hand leaves your lower half and does the same to your other breast. He spends a few minutes toying with them before his hands move back down to your panties.

“You’re so wet for me, I can feel it through your underwear.” He slowly peels the lacy fabric off of you, and holds it up for you to see. There’s a decent sized wet spot on them, the spot slightly darker than the rest of the fabric. “Look at that.” He says, before tossing them aside.

His left hand holds you over your stomach, pulling you against him, while the other wanders back down to your center. His touch is feather-light as he brushes over your folds, back and forth, then finally over your clit. You jolt at his touch, squirming in his lap.

“Oh, someone’s an eager little bunny.” He says.

His words float around your head, the new name sending a flush over you.

He presses down on your clit, rubbing it in circles. He coos as you whine, your hips moving on their own accord to match with his hand.

He pulls his fingers away just as you start to feel a new wave of pleasure.

“No, why?” You whine, your own hand moving to replace his.

He quickly pulls your hand away and holds it at your side.

“Behave little bunny. Or I won’t let you cum.” He warns you.

His hand only moves back to your center once you’ve stilled on his lap. This time his middle finger runs along your folds. He slowly pushes the end of his finger inside you, gathering your slick on it, and moving it up to your clit.

“More, please sir.” The title falls from your mouth without a second thought.

He grins. “So you do have some manners?” He pushes his finger back inside you, this time curling upwards. “You’re so warm.” He says as he kisses along your neck.

His finger is longer than any of yours, able to reach deep inside you. He pushes his ring finger in as well, the thick digits spreading you open.

You moan at the intrusion. You can feel his fingers scissoring you open as you clench tighter around him.

His other hand moves down to play with your clit, rubbing it in quick circles.

Your whimpers come out rhythmically with every thrust of his fingers.

“You’re so close huh bunny? Do you want to cum?” He asks, his lips brushing against your ear.

You nod frantically. “Please let me cum, please, please, please.” You feel yourself falling closer to the edge as his finger speed up.

Then, nothing. He pulls both his hands away from you, back up to your stomach. He holds you against him as your body thrashes, searching for his lost touch.

“Well I don’t want you to cum yet. You look so pretty whining and begging for me, it’d be a shame to stop now.” He pinches one of your nipples.

You let out a disgruntled whine, pushing your hips forward, looking for some friction.

“You’re so desperate aren’t you? Let’s see just how wet you are.” He pulls your legs apart wider and prods at your folds. His fingers push them apart for the camera. They’re puffy and pink now, covered in your slick.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen.” He says as his hand cups your pussy, the heel brushing over your clit. “You’re going to beg me to cum, but you’re only going to cum when I tell you to. Okay?”

You nod. “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” He pushes his fingers in you again, lazily thrusting them in and out. “Now beg for it.”

You plead with him for more, for him to go faster, to add more fingers, for anything. He rests his head on your shoulder and looks down at where his fingers are inside of you. He adds a third finger and pumps them in and out of you faster.

“Please may I cum?” You ask as you feel the knot tighten within you.

“Hold it.” He commands, his thumb now tracing over your clit.

Your moans get louder and louder as you feel yourself get closed and closer to the edge. “Please? Please? Oh my god, please let me cum!”

He’s silent for a moment, then gives you a command in your ear. “Cum.”

A feeling like never before rushes over you. It’s a wave of pleasure like you’ve never experienced before. Your head is thrown back, resting against his shoulder as you cry out. He guides you through your orgasm, his fingers slowing as you come down.

He pulls his fingers out of you, and wraps his arms around you.

You try to catch your breath, your brain still a little fuzzy as he strokes your hair.

“You did so well schatz, you were so good.” He gives you soft praises.

“Thank you sir.” You nuzzle into his neck.

“No, no, no. Not sir anymore, okay? Just Seb.” He tells you. He holds you in his arms for a few minutes, then pulls away slightly to look at you.

“I’m going to get my bag, alright? I’ll be right back.” He softly lifts you off his lap, placing you next to him.

“Seb-” you reach out for him.

He dashes to the door and back to his spot next to you, now with his bag. He reaches behind him to turn off your camera, then turns back to you. He kneels down on the ground in front of you and pulls a soft towel out of his bag. He wipes his fingers off, then softly spreads your legs open. He cleans you up, apologizing when you try to close your legs from the sensitivity.

He pulls out a large sweatshirt next and places it on the bed next to you. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, but I figured it might help you get more comfortable.”

You give him a quiet thank you, and pull the sweatshirt over your head. The material is soft, the sleeves falling past your hands.

The next thing he pulls from the bag is a bottle of water. “I know you probably have water here, but I wanted to be prepared.” He untwists the cap for you and hands it to you.

You take it from him and start to take small sips. He pulls out two granola bars next. He hands you one, and unwraps the other, taking a bite from it.

“It’s important to drink water and have a snack after something like that.” He explains. “How are you feeling.”

“Good, tired, but good.” You give him a soft smile.

“Good.” He nods. He stays with you for a while, just chatting with you, making sure you won’t drop back into subspace.

“So should we get started on your video?” You ask, reaching for the hem of his sweatshirt you’ve got on.

He quickly reaches for your hands, pulling them back down to your sides. “No schatz, not tonight. You’ve done a lot, and you need to rest. We’ll talk about my video later.”

You stay with each other for a little while longer, just taking in the presence of one another before he realizes how late it’s gotten.

He stands up from the floor and reaches for his bag. “I should get going. But thank you schatz, I had fun.”

You’re almost disappointed to see him gather his things and get ready to leave. “Me too, thank you Seb.”

You walk him back to your front door. “Text me later, okay?” You ask.

“Of course.” He reaches for your hand and gives it a soft squeeze, then leaves your home.

He’s not even halfway to his car before he wonders when the next time he’ll be able to see you will be.

[thegettingbyp2]

hiii!! could we pls have an anthony bridgerton fic? please please him getting into a duel for you and starting as comforting him (emotionally or if he's injured) and ending in romantic smut? ty!

Defending Your Honour

The moment you heard the door slam shut, you knew that something was wrong. You walked into the entrance of the Bridgerton household to see Anthony already storming up the stairs; what alarmed you the most was the bright patch of red that was blooming on the white sleeve of his shirt. You and Anthony had been best friends since you were little, however, as the both of you grew up, you’d developed deeper feelings for each other but were both too scared to admit it, too scared that the other person wouldn’t feel the same way.

‘What happened?’ you exclaimed, meeting him halfway on the stairs, your hands coming out to stop him, being careful to avoid his shirt sleeve. Anthony’s almost instinctively came to rest on your waist, almost as if he was trying to make sure you were there. ‘Anthony, talk to me, what happened?’ you pressed, reaching up until his eyes met yours.

‘Never accept anything from Lord Darlington, do you hear me?’ he said frantically, his fingers tightening on your waist. ‘I don’t care what it is, you don’t accept, promise me, (Y/N).’

‘Okay, okay, I promise,’ you said, trying to calm him down, ‘come upstairs and you can tell me what happened while I patch you up.’ You gave him no room to protest, linking your hand in his and pulling him up the stairs until you walked into his study, knowing that was the one room the two of you wouldn’t be interrupted. You gently closed the door and walked across the room to where Anthony had sat on the sofa against the bookshelves. Lowering yourself to sit next to him, armed with all the supplies you would possibly need, you gently took hold of his injured arm and pulled it carefully towards you. With his free hand, Anthony reached up to loosen his shirt, allowing you to pull the shoulder down, revealing a nasty gash on his arm. ‘Anthony, what happened?’ you asked as a breath rushed out of you at the sight of the injury.

‘I overheard Lord Darlington telling everyone that you had been difficult when he asked for your hand in marriage. He said that he was going to have a word with your father and make it clear to him that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer and that you weren’t going to have a choice; he was going to make you marry him. I overheard and I couldn’t let him get away with talking about you like that so I stepped in and challenged him to a duel.’

‘You didn’t have to do that!’ You protested, still being careful as you patched him up.

‘Didn’t have to? (Y/N), he was telling everyone that you were his! I couldn’t bear the thought because you’re mine,’ Anthony said, his voice rising slightly. As soon as you both realised what he had just said, you both froze, not knowing what to do next.

‘Done,’ you said quietly, gesturing to his arm and looking down at your hands that you were now wringing in your lap. Anthony quietly muttered his thanks and you stood up to leave. A hand wrapped gently around your wrist stopped you from walking away and you looked down at Anthony to see him looking up at you, emotions warring in his eyes.

‘(Y/N), I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. Just the thought of you marrying him, it drove me insane and,’ you cut him off by stepping closer to him, your hands gently cupping his cheeks as his hands moved to clutch at your waist, holding you in place.

‘You should know me better than that. I’d never marry someone else. Not when the only person I want to marry is you,’ you spoke softly as your lips hovered over his. Without another word, Anthony yanked you down into his lap as he pressed his lips to yours. You gasped against his lips, allowing Anthony to deepen the kiss as he held you as close as possible, the skirts of your dress, settling over the two of you. ‘Anthony,’ you whimpered, your hands sliding up the back of his head as your hips began to rock against him. ‘Need you.’

‘You have me. Forever, you have me, (Y/N),’ he mumbled as his lips began to press kisses to your neck and shoulder. Your hands slipped underneath your skirt as you tried to pull Anthony’s trousers down his hips, only to be stopped by his hands wrapping around your wrists, putting a halt to your movements. ‘(Y/N), we can’t,’ he breathed out, his breath heavy against your shoulder.

‘Why? Anthony, I need you,’ you insisted as you tried to move your hands out of his grip, letting out a huff of frustration when you failed.

‘We can’t. (Y/N), I can’t do this to you. If anyone were to find out that I’d had you before your husband, you know what would happen and I won’t put you through that.’

Instead of replying, you crashed your lips against his again, smirking when you heard the groan form in his throat, his hands loosening their grip on you. As soon as you could, you pulled your hands up to rest on the side of his neck as you looked at him. ‘Anthony, the only person I want to be with is you. Please.’

Anthony looked at you, his eyes full of adoration as he just looked at you for a few seconds. ‘And you’re sure? Because once we do this, once I have you, I won’t be able to let you go.’

‘You’ve had me for years, you just haven’t realised,’ you said and that was the only confirmation he needed as his hands made quick work of pushing his trousers down his legs and hooking your panties to the side.

‘Next time, I promise I’ll be gentle and I’ll take my time with you but I can’t wait.’

‘We have all the time in the world,’ you reassured him. A gasp left your throat and tears pricked in your eyes as you felt the sharp pain of him entering you. Anthony’s hands were gentle as he cradled you against his body, trying to be as still as possible as he let you adjust to the foreign feeling.

‘I’m sorry, it won’t hurt for long,’ he soothed, kissing away your tears until your hips started rocking again and he took that as his sign to move. You weren’t expecting the rush of pleasure to course through you as he started to guide your body against his and you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder to steady yourself and muffle the cries that he was pulling from you.

In that moment, everything just felt right. And you knew that Anthony Bridgerton was the only person that you wanted.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

Thinking about roleplaying with mean mommy Wanda where she’d be an evil Queen and R her favorite maid and/or prisoner 🤭

Evil Queen Wanda and maid reader omg!!!! What a good idea ◡̈ I took this wayyyyy more literal... in this little blurb its not a roleplay🤭

This got kinda long... oops.

You're Wanda's personal servant, she'd taken one look at you on your first day and declared you hers.

Of course, you're happy to serve your queen, and you don't mind the extra protection that comes along with it. Her protective manner and watchful eyes draw you in, even as a small part of your mind reminds you that she is an evil queen.

One day, she comes in covered in blood, having dealt with some traiters in the dungeons. Not that you're aware of that little fact. You freak out, as expected, nervously fluttering around her as you draw her a bath. The frantic words coming out of your mouth are nothing short of endearing, and Wanda simply watches you with warm, green eyes as you collect yourself.

When you finally calm down, your mind returning back to your body, you realize that you're in the middle of undressing Wan- your queen. You go rigid, mouth agape as you blink rapidly, your fingers freezing from where you've been unbuttoning the front of her corset.

"Don't stop talking now, darling," Wanda's low voice wraps around your head, drawing you in. "I was quite enjoying the spew of nonsense from those pretty lips."

You barely register the slight insult, focused entirely on the fact that she had called your lips... pretty. Your queen, Wanda Maximoff, had called you pretty.

The worried energy surrounding you quickly becomes meek and nervous, and Wanda smirks at you while you finish unbuttoning her corset. You pull her hair free of its many pins, the silky auburn waves resting delicately over her bare shoulders as she...

Bare shoulders?

You blink again, taking in the sight of a completely nude Wanda. Your queen, standing in front of you with her perfect hair and knowing green eyes and that tantalizing curve of her hips...

She brushes past you, the barest touch of her skin against your hand sending shivers down your whole spine as you stare at her. Wanda sinks into her bath, raising an expectant eyebrow at you as the water turns slightly pink.

You snap to attention, grabbing a washcloth as you begin to wash the blood off of her. You pay special attention to her hands, wiping away the blood underneath her fingernails, your ears burning under the weight of her stare.

Resuming your duty, you ignore the growing arousal pooling at your gut. You resolutely ignore the swell of her breasts, or the way her nipples harden when you quickly wash her torso. Wanda doesn't say a word, simply observing you under the light of the candles littering the bathroom.

Eventually, you finish. Kneeling next to the tub, you wring the washcloth out. As you begin to stand, Wanda's hand snaps out and grips your wrist.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Wanda asks, and you finally let yourself meet her green eyes. She spreads her thighs, knees touching the sides of the tub as she tilts her head at you.

"Part of your duties as my personal maid include cleaning your queen." Wanda states, her eyes burning. "Every part of your queen."

You hold back a whimper, feeling your arousal begin to leak down your thighs. Nodding, you maintain eye contact as your hand slowly moves towards the apex of her thighs, the washcloth gently brushing her skin. You can't seem to look away, something in her gaze holding you there, holding you captive as she gently pries the washcloth away from your loose grip and guides your hand down further, and further, and...

The fear you normally feel around your queen evaporates, twisting into a burning arousal as you begin to move your fingers. Her gaze is almost predatory, and you know she'll never let you leave after this.

Not that you'd want to leave.

After that night, your queen treats you differently, even if it is only behind closed doors. When in the presence of others, her cold, hard mask is firmly in place, the glances she sends your way nothing short of distaste.

But, the moment she gets you alone in her private chambers, her hands are all over your body, ripping your clothes off and lifting her skirts while shoving you down onto your knees.

Her favorite activity is punishing you, especially whenever she catches one of her knights looking in your direction. Wanda will fuck you roughly, your backside aching from the blows she rains down using a riding crop, her strap buried deep inside you while she whispers "All mine," into your ear.

It's almost as if she turns into something else. Something different, something fierce and hungry and all yours.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

[legiblyloathed]

Ain’t He Darling? (Chapter 1)

Yandere! Wally Darling x Reader

A/N: Okay, so the little blue haired menace has been rotting my brain for the past week, sue me. I tried to get him out of my brain by rewatching Gravity Falls, only for the episode “The Hand that Rocks the Mabel” to inspire a whole fanfic. Straight up water on a grease fire. Anyway, enjoy.

Next

I always forget how much of a hassle moving is until it’s time to actually do it. Weeks spent selling and giving away half of my belongings, trying to shove the rest of them into boxes, then taking all of them into a new location only to have to figure out where all of them should go in the new space; it’s on the list of most mundane yet stressful life events a person has to put themselves through.

These were the feelings that hung around my being like a dark cloud for the past few weeks, but now, as I finally set my final knickknack in its chosen spot, I can feel the sun breaking through. I stand up and stretch as hard as I can, trying to wring the residual tension out of my spine. Even with my reduced number of belongings, it’s a lot of work to unpack them all, especially when working alone.

I didn’t have to do all the work myself. Within minutes of hauling stacks of boxes into my new house, I’d been approached by numerous rather colorful people, all very keen to lend a hand. As the newest neighbor in town, I was a curiosity to them, after all. I’d declined the offers, not wanting to place any burdens on the shoulders of my new potential friends. Looking back on it, that wasn’t my smartest move. Or maybe that’s just my aching muscles talking.

I’m dragged out of my tired contentment by the sound of a knock on the front door. Relaxing with a heaving sigh, I stroll over and peer out the peephole. Standing on my porch is a large, multicolored bird. My eyes dart to the plate of cookies balanced in her wings. With newfound excitement, I yank open the door and greet her with a smile.

The bird almost appears startled at this, the cookies on the plate jostling as she jumped. “Oh dear!” She shuffles the plate to her left hand, her right settling upon her chest as if to calm her heart. “You startled me for a moment!”

I give her a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Settling down, she waves her free wing dismissively. “Nothing to apologize for, I’m a bit prone to fright, is all.” As if remembering their existence, she extends the plate of cookies towards me. “I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood! I do hope you like them!”

“I’m sure I will!” I pull the plate from her grasp and hold it carefully to my chest, my mouth watering at the sugary smell. “They look and smell delicious, thank you so much…” I trail off, realizing in embarrassment that I never caught her name.

She seems to sense my hesitation, and beams in reassurance. “My name’s Poppy, Poppy Partridge.” I give her my name, mentally thanking her for the help. “It’s very nice to meet you, we haven’t had any new neighbors in a long time.”

“Really?” My head tilts to the side. “Why not? This place is beautiful.”

“Oh, I can’t say myself,” she sighs. “Suppose there’s just not much to around here.”

I shrug, trying to appear lighthearted. “It’s a pity.” She nods in agreement, and the conversation begins to lull. Not wanting to leave on such a sour note, I ask, “Out of curiosity, what do you like to do around here?”

“Me?” she squawks, looking taken aback. She fidgets with her feathers, her wings wringing around each other. “I suppose I like to bake, especially when the weather’s nice enough for a picnic.” I can almost see the lightbulb turn on above her head, and she turns her much cheerier gaze to my own. “Say, the rest of us were planning on a picnic this afternoon! Care to join us? It’d be a good time to meet your new neighbors.”

A sense of anxiety washes over me. The idea of being among that many strangers with such late notice flutters around in my stomach like butterflies. Without thinking, I begin to shift back and forth on my feet. “I… I don’t know, it’s very sudden…”

The bird wilts a bit, looking down at my porch. “Oh dear, it is, isn’t it? You must still be so busy with unpacking.”

I look up at her, my anxiety curdling into regret at her disappointment. I reconsider the situation. What’s an hour or two with a handful of strangers? There’s only nine houses in this town, counting my own, I can handle it. Having made up my mind, I shake my head. “No, no, I already finished unpacking. I’ll be there.”

Poppy perks up. “You will?” I smile, hoping she can’t see the hesitation in it. “That’s wonderful news!” She flaps her wings in excitement before stopping with a gasp of realization. “I have more baking to do, than! I’d better get going,” she says, turning to leave with one last wave of her big red wing. “I’ll see you soon, neighbor!”

“See you soon!” I shout back, waving with the hand that wasn’t clutching the plate of cookies. As she goes further from my field of vision, I feel myself slump, the excitement of a new friend and a batch of treats wearing off to remind me of my exhaustion. My hand falls limp to my side and I stare at the plate in contemplation.

Nap? Or snack?

I pluck a cookie from the tray and take a bite, feeling myself melt at the incredible flavor. I scarf the rest of the sweet down before heading back inside, picking up another one as I go. Maybe just a few before I rest up.

—————————

I snap up on my couch, almost falling off of it in my sudden awakening. What time is it? A quick glance at the clock on my wall reveals it to be mid-afternoon, and I throw myself off my resting place so fast I nearly hit the floor. I scramble to the window and see a small crowd of people in the distance, the sounds of talk and laughter wafting in through the glass. I let out a sigh of relief. At least I wasn’t… that late. After a quick change and a once over in the mirror, I hurry out the door and towards the picnic.

As I approach, the jolly sounds become clearer, with voices all chattering their cares away. Colorful blankets are scattered across the clearing, each rife with sandwiches and sweets. I really hope they aren’t upset that I didn’t bring anything. As I scan my surroundings, I pick out Poppy as she talks with a caterpillar and head in her direction, relieved at the semi-familiar face.

As if on cue, my way is blocked by a short girl in a pink dress dragging along a disgruntled looking man with a bowtie. “Ooh, you must be the new neighbor!” she squeals, bouncing up and down in place, hands flapping in front of her chest. “We were so worried you weren’t gonna come! I’m Julie Joyful, and this,” she says as she grabs the arm of the man next to her, “is Frank Frankly! Say hi, Franky!”

“Uh… hello.” I pondered briefly if I looked as awkward as poor Frank did as he gave me a small wave. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” I respond. As Julie begins to babble about her excitement, my eyes move to drift over the rest of the strangers. The vast majority are split off into their own small groups, with a single exception. Sitting on a bench under a large apple tree is a man who seems to be studying me the same way I’m studying him. One of his legs is crossed over the other, supporting his elbow as he rests his chin on his hand, staring at me with an intensity that sends a small shiver down my spine. And either I’m going crazy, or his lazy smile broadens ever so slightly at that.

I’m startled out of my impromptu staring contest by Julie, who seems to have noticed that I wasn’t listening and cranes her neck to see what I’m looking at. “Oh, have you met Wally yet?”

I shake my head. “No, not yet.” It takes all the willpower in my body not to meet those eyes that I can almost feel lingering on me.

The girl grins, grabbing my wrist. “Come on, you gotta meet him! I bet you two will get along like two peas in a pod!”

She begins to force me from my spot, and I feel myself start to panic. Before she can pull me away to the creepy man, Frank reaches out and stops her in her tracks. “Say, Julie, they don’t look too keen on it. Maybe they should take it slow, meet the others on their own time?” He gestures broadly to the snacks left sitting around. “They haven’t even gotten anything to eat yet, after all.”

Julie looks surprised at the intervention, a flash of guilt going over her face. “Oh my, you’re right, Frank! I’m so sorry, neighbor, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” At my dismissive hand wave, she changes course, instead pulling me to the piles of food. “Poppy told me she gave you some cookies, but just you wait ‘til you try her pie!” I turn to look at Frank, mouthing a ‘thank you’ at the grumpy looking man. He smiles a bit with a reassuring nod, and the three of us settle down on a blanket. For the rest of the picnic I eat while the two of them (mainly just Julie with the occasional comment from Frank) talk about all kinds of things.

I try hard to pretend I can’t feel the eyes burning into the back of my head.

—————————

The sound of a steady, rhythmic knock wakes me up the next morning. I rub the sleep from my eyes, noting with absent mind how high the sun had already risen. The three slow knocks reverberate through my house once again, and I roll out of bed and head towards the front door, not bothering to change out of my pajamas or even look through the peephole. This, as it turns out, is a bad move on my part.

I yawn as I open the door, only for it to become a strangled cough as I lock eyes with the one resident I didn’t want to see this early. The man, or Wally as Julie had called him, stood on my porch, his face as eerily relaxed as ever. His posture was straight, his clothes neat, his appearance put together; I don’t think he could be any more of a contrast to my current state if he actively worked towards it. Which, to be frank, I suspect he did.

Just like the last time I’d encountered him, the two of us looked as if we were having a staring contest. Unlike last time, however, this time he decides to break the silence. “Hi, neighbor.” His voice is soft and monotonous, each syllable dragging along in no hurry. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.”

Somehow, I doubt that. In an attempt to relieve the strange tension, I let out a stilted laugh. “Yeah, you did, but it’s fine. I overslept, anyway.” He hums in acknowledgement, and it takes a few long seconds for me to realize he doesn’t plan on responding. Eager to hurry along this interaction so I can dart back into my house and hide from those piercing eyes, I prompt, “Something I can help you with, Wally?”

He tilts his head. “I never told you my name.”

“Yeah, no, you uh, you didn’t. Julie told me yesterday. At the… the picnic.”

“Oh, right. You three looked like you had a good time.”

“We did! We did…”

“Hmm.” His smile stretches, looking pleased by that confirmation. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re settling in okay. I’ve heard it can be awful hard to make new friends, but you have a way of drawing people in, huh?” Cutting me off before I can ask for elaboration, Wally continues. “Speaking of drawing, I was hoping you might join me for some painting today, down by the south woods.”

“Oh!” I blurt out, taking a moment to process the invitation. “I’m not exactly much of an artist, myself.”

He laughs, and it’s every bit as emphatic as the rest of his speech. “Oh, neighbor, that doesn’t matter. We all start somewhere, and besides, I’d like the company.”

I consider turning him down flat, but something tells me he’s a bit too persuasive for me to keep him at bay forever. With a grin so forced it hurts, I say, “Sounds like fun! I’ll be there.”

Wally’s head bobs in a slow nod, and he takes a step back from the door. “I’m glad to hear it. See you soon, neighbor.”

I return the nod and raise a hand in a brief wave. “See you soon.” His stare remains, and just as I ready myself to ask him to stop, he finally, finally, turns away and walks away, humming a quiet tune to himself.

I step inside and close the door, leaning my forehead against it as I recover from the encounter. My stomach growls, but I feel as though I’ve lost my appetite. The inexplicable dread in my heart squashes any hope of breakfast. I close my eyes, but even then I can still see his own staring back, unblinking in their ceaseless observation. With a shudder, I push myself up, trying my best to steel my nerves. It’s just a little art lesson, I chastise myself. So he’s a little spooky, it’s probably fine.

No matter how many times I repeated those three words to myself, the memory of those eyes seems to peer right through the lie.

[raquellemonsta]

Wondering if I could request an enemies to lovers with tsuki x reader with a "who did this to you trope"? Happy ending please (⁠づ⁠￣⁠ ⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠づ

OBSESSED with this and I love tsukishima so i went for it. hope you like it!

' who did this to you?'/ enemies to lovers

tsukishima x reader (2.0k words)

warnings: blood, not for yamamoto stans

after the shaky bus ride to tokyo, you're ecstatic to finally touch the ground again. your slight bus sickness leaves you as you breathe in fresh air and try to tune out all of the rowdy boys currently surrounding you.

as a manager of the boys volleyball team, you've become used to the crazy boys at karasuno. you're so happy that you decided to join them, since all of the boys are very friendly to you and you'd even consider them your friends! all but one of the boys, that is.

"wow (y/n), you somehow only look a little bit more stupid when you're bus sick than when you aren't," said player taunts. tsukishima always has a smart (and usually rude) remark for or about you.

you're all too familiar with tsukishima, as the two of you are in the same class, 1-4. you moved to miyagi mere weeks before the school year started, so you went in not knowing anyone in your college prep class. you can still picture your first time seeing him, and then your first time interacting with him.

you had shown up to your first day of class on time, as you've always been a responsible student. only a few of your classmates are there when you show up, though one immediately catches your eye.

a blond boy with glasses sitting in the second row gathers your attention even though he's not looking at you. he has his headphones on waiting for the teacher to show up and for class to start. you have to admit, he's boyishly handsome and probably decently tall if his legs under the desk are anything to go off of. you take a seat next to him, but decide to not interrupt him once the teacher walks in. he makes your heart beat faster, and it's embarassing to admit that you have a little crush on the first guy you've come across.

at lunch break, once some of the students have gotten up and he's still sitting, you decide to try and strike up a conversation with him. you can feel the sweat on your palms as you move to stand in front of him, wringing your hands together.

"hey, what's y-" you barely manage.

"no thanks" he immediately cuts you off, not even sparing you a glance making you scoff in offense and annoyance. nevermind him being cute, apparently he's an ass.

"whatever, not like i wanted to talk to you or anything" you roll your eyes and head to the opposite side of the room, not realizing he'd looked up to watch you walk away and felt a strange feeling. in hindsight, he realized you clearly weren't just one of the girls that decides to ask him out weekly. from that moment though, you decide to keep your distance from him during class and only interact with him when you absolutely have to.

the memory makes you roll your eyes now, and you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

"you don't have to be such a jerk all of the time, you know that?" sometimes he really brings the worst out of you, as you're not normally a snappy person. that response keeps him quiet though, as he seemingly can't think of a retort for you. he gives you a strange look before walking into the gym before you even get there, headphones up and unwilling to listen to anyone. you feel slightly bad for him for a second before remembering he's always mean to you first, so you move on to your manager tasks.

the guys haven't started warming up yet, as some of the nekoma players are still setting up their net. after bringing the water bottle carriers and setting them down next to the bench, you attempt to find the clipboard you and kiyoko usually use to keep track of your players stats. you're in charge of marking number of serves/aces, digs, blocks, serve receives, kills, and assists. even though it's only your first year, you're a very diligent manager and are able to keep up with the boys' fast-paced plays.

for whatever reason, you see the clipboard thrown on the floor against the wall and near a nekoma ball cart. it's right next to the metal thing built into the floor to keep the gym wall divider in place, in case they ever need to split the gym in half (does this even make sense?). you head over to retrieve the clip board and are about to bend to get it when you're suddenly jolted forward from someone wildly flinging the volleyball cart.

you try to catch your fall with your hands, but unfortunately you scrape your knee against the metal portion of the divider. you look behind you to find who pushed you, and see nekoma's ace pulling the ball cart over to one side of the net, not paying you any mind. you look around to see if anyone's noticed, and you see a certain pair of golden brown eyes look around before finally falling on you. that's when you feel the heat from your knee, and finally sit down to see the damage.

"oh…" you sadly gaze down at your now ripped joggers. it hasn't even occurred to you that you've cut your knee open, and instead you begin to tear up at the fact that you've ruined your pants. it seems ridiculous to be upset about that and not your injury, but you really like these!

yamamoto didn't even stop to check on you, and it seems like now his focus is on kiyoko and tanaka as he warms up his serve. you attempt to hold back the waterworks in an attempt to not embarrass yourself, when the one person you'd never want to see you like this comes over to you. you're about to defend yourself, expecting him to tell you you look stupid or weak, but his reaction surprises you.

gazing down at you, his eye reaches your knee. he can clearly see the rip along with the reddish color beginning to soak into the fabric. the look on his face is a twist of shock and anger, and for a second you forget that you were just upset with him earlier and are more concerned with how scary his expression is. he looks like he could snap at any second and bite your head off.

"what happened?" he asks. "who the hell did this to you?" he bends down to come to your level, examining your wounded knee. you have to admit, you hadn't expected this reaction from tsukishima of all people, maybe from kiyoko or sugawara.

you glanced in yamamoto's direction when he asked the question, causing him to turn around and follow your stare. he's not really surprised but still feels annoyance and a more unknown emotion bubble up inside of him.

"it was an accident tsukki, he didn't mean it" you try and explain, but he's not having any of it. surprisingly, he doesn't comment on you using the nickname he hates, instead glaring at yamamoto with a look that could kill. entirely uncharacteristically, he walks over to yamamoto and grabs his jersey, causing the second year to whip around in surprise and confusion.

"i don't wanna see you near her again" he points back to you. you look away before you're able to make eye contact with yamamoto, though admittedly you probably look extremely pathetic right now: staring at the floor with your knees to your chest. you hear yamamoto jump to defend himself, claiming he doesn't even know you, but you figure tsukishima must've lost interest and walked away because he stops quickly.

"hey" the voice comes from above you. you already know who it is, but you look up anyways. there stands tsukishima kei in all of his glory, giving you an unreadable look and seemingly waiting for you to move. you're still slightly too shocked from this whole turn of events to get up off the floor on your own, though.

by now, your cut stings from the realization that it's there (you know how once you look at one it starts to hurt more?). you look back down at it to find it now soaking your pant leg. tsukishima picks you up, carefully placing an arm under your legs and his other behind your back. the change in vantage point makes you laugh quietly, and you imagine this must be what it feels like to be an even taller person.

he sets you down on karasuno's 'bench' and takes the first aid bag. grabbing an antibacterial wipe and bandage, his long fingers expertly open the package and wipe at your cut. it stings for a split second before you just feel a numbing buzz, and you look up to see him intensely focused on caring for you. there's no malice or annoyance in his face, and you can say it's honestly nice to see him at peace.

"maybe you aren't such a jerk after all" you joke, attempting to break the silence. he scoffs at you, coming back to reality.

"don't push it, i don't have to help you" he reminds, and you shut up before you lose this privilege. you've never really seen him like this before, truthfully. it's nice to have a handsome boy caring for you and concerned about you, especially one you thought despised you. now that you think about it, does this mean he doesn't actually hate you? no way he would go out of his way to do this if he actually did.

"i'm sorry i'm not good with feelings," he whispers to you. he's bad at opening up to people, something he's painfully aware of though other people don't usually realize he is. the reason he always has a rude remark for you is because it's the only way he thinks he can get you to talk and interact with him after accidentally being so cold to you that first day. the truth is, you're beautiful and it makes him nervous. crushing on you while also thinking you can't stand him has been eating away at him for months.

slowly, he rolls up your pant leg and begins to wrap around your knee. he cuts the bandage when he's done and makes sure you're okay before rolling the pant leg back down. you can't move your knee super well but that's to be expected.

"thank you kei" you softly speak. as a thank you, you give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. it's something he clearly wasn't expecting, as you catch the incredulous look on his face after you do so. he's really not such a cold guy, he just has a hard time communicating what he really feels. it's endearing when it's him, you think.

"tch, annoying" he rolls his eyes. you can't help but notice his pink cheeks and the way he's now avoiding eye contact with you. he's only pretending to hate it. in reality, he wants another kiss.

"be nice" you taunt him back. the huge, genuine smile on your face shows him you're only joking, and also makes him want to smile back. he covers his mouth before you can see the grin threatening to burst out onto his face.

"weirdo" he mutters at you before making his way out onto the court where the rest of the team is warming up. that one wasn't even clever.

all of a sudden, you hear someone yell 'head's up!'. before you can even react, a ball smashes into your forehead and you throw your face into your hands to avoid shouting. yamamoto looks even guiltier than before.

"seriously?!" tsukki yells, coming back over to you again and rubbing your back.

at this rate, tsukishima might end up killing yamamoto before the game even starts.

[bobfloydsbabe]

heartbeat | rhett abbott x oc | a linger blurb

SUMMARY: Lou has news to share with Rhett

WARNINGS: pregnancy

WORD COUNT: 740

LINGER MASTERLIST

JOIN THE TAGLIST (google form–no personal info required)

A/N: I word vomited this last night and decided to share it even though it's waaaaay down the timeline of the actual fic. I'm adding everyone on the official Linger taglist, as well as the people who showed interest earlier. Enjoy!

“Rhett?”

“Yeah?” he answers without turning around from where he stands at the sink, washing their mugs from earlier that morning.

Lou wrings her hands, heart beating wildly in her chest. “I have to tell you something.”

She watches his shoulders tense, his entire body going rigid. He reaches for a dish towel, drying his hands as he turns around to face her. His expression is stony, his eyes hard, and his mouth is a straight line. Lou’s stomach clenches and she feels sick.

“What’s going on?”

Tears prickle in her eyes. She can tell Rhett is primed for bad news, maybe even betrayal–so used to being put aside for the sake of others. “Will you sit?”

Putting the dish towel down, he crosses the room and sits on the couch. Lou sits on the coffee table, facing him, their knees bumping against each other, making her chuckle. She peers up at him, hoping to see the tension gone from his shoulders, but no such luck.

She opens her mouth, but Rhett beats her to it.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Lou flinches, drawing back. “What?” It’s like a gut punch and the word sounds breathless.

He keeps going. “I know this isn’t the life you wanted, but we can do something else. We can leave Wabang, just don’t leave me–”

To make her usually quiet and gruff cowboy stop talking, she places her palms on either side of his face, pulls him to her and kisses him. 

His shock is palpable from the way he freezes, but he recovers quickly, and kisses her back with a fervor that reminds her of their first kiss. His hands cradle her neck, move into her hair, and she holds onto the front of his t-shirt like her life depends on it, keeping him close.

Out of breath, she pulls away and stares into those bright blue eyes she loves so much.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” she whispers, giving his lips another quick peck.

“Good,” he says, voice rumbling and finally the corners of his mouth turn up. “You scared me.”

Her heart aches for him. He’s so used to being pushed aside for the sake of others and their needs that he’s terrified of people leaving. If Lou could go back in time and convince little Rhett that he deserves to take up space, that he’s loved and cared for, she would do it without a second thought.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him. “Can I tell you the thing now?”

He chuckles, pecking her lips. She takes that as a yes.

She leans back, reaching around to the back pocket of her jeans, and hands Rhett the stick with a very clear message on it. He takes it from her with an adorable furrow between his brows. Flipping it over, his eyes dart to the little display immediately. 

His eyes grow to the size of teacups as his head whips up. “You’re pregnant?”

His voice is small, serious but anxious, and Lou doesn’t blame him for that. It’s a lot to process, and completely unexpected. Unplanned too.

“I am,” she confirms. “Dr. Bailey thinks I’m about 10 weeks along.”

He looks down at the test again, running his thumb over the display that clearly tells him it’s real. PREGNANT.

He’s so still that Lou almost thinks he’s having a stroke, but then a drop falls on his hand and she realizes he’s crying. Reaching for his hands, she brings them into her lap and it looks comical with her much smaller ones holding his.

“Rhett,” she says. “Please say something.”

He lifts his head then, tears trickling down his cheeks. “We’re gonna need a bigger place.”

Lou laughs. He’s not wrong. She takes the test out of his hand, puts it down on the table next to her, and crawls into his lap, her thighs on either side of his. Snaking her arms around his neck, her fingers play with the wavy ends of the hair at his nape. 

“Tell me you’re happy about this,” she whispers, pulse racing.

“Darlin’, these are happy tears,” he tells her matter-of-factly as his big, warm hands land on her hips. “Can’t believe we’re gonna have a baby.”

One hand slides to her belly where a new life is growing, half Rhett and half Lou. All love.

“I love you,” she says, leaning her forehead against his. “You’re gonna be an amazing dad.”

likes are nice, but commets and reblogs are golden

TAGLIST: @wkndwlff, @joaquinwhorres, @thedroneranger, @callsign-cacti, @chickensarentcheap, @lewmagoo, @sylviebell, @cherrycola27, @bradshawsbitch, @yanna-banana, @phoenixhalliwell, @rhettabbotts, @laracrofted, @everbizzare, @t-nd-rfoot, @callsign-joyride, @angelbabyyy99, @roosters-girl, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @eternallyvenus, @kmc1989, @high-speed-r, @anniesocsandgeneralstore, @petcr3

[zcorners120]

shut up, and get in. (pt. 2)

requested by @oneafterdark

arthur leclerc x fem!reader

synopsis; Arthur's mixed feelings surface, causing your relationship to twist from enemies to.. ?

warnings; close proximity, none

MASTER LIST

He opens the car door for you, letting your soggy shoes squelch across the grand driveway. Walking up to the mahogany double doors, you take off your jacket that was clinging to your cold and wet body, wringing the water from it.

You stop walking and groan, knowing that the rest of your clothes will be no better. Arthur catches up to you, and plucks the jacket from your hand whilst still walking up to the doors.

"Uh-" You spoke, but being interrupted by him.

"Hurry up, I don't want you getting hypothermia." His deep voice spoke out, so you speed-walk over behind him.

He opens the door with a fumble with his keys, and holds the door open. You walk in and take in the huge space that consists of a grand piano, high ceilings with the walls adorned with huge windows. Plants scattered about in all different greens, and abstract paintings finishing the walls.

You stand next to the door awkwardly, feeling odd being so into his personal space. He looks at you, sensing the tension. Your clothes carry on dripping, making small taps against the floor.

"So, I thought-" You start, trying to break the tension.

"You can-" You both started talking at the exact same time, making this even worse.

"Uhm, go ahead." You say meekly, slightly shivering and wanting to get a taxi home already.

"I'll lead you upstairs, you can take a shower and I'll give you some clothes." He says firmly, looking down at your jacket before moving onwards, looking back to see you following slowly.

You walk behind up the winding staircase, wondering what's going through his mind.

He opens a door, revealing a king size bed, the rooms aesthetic full of modern toned greys, whites and blacks. Embellished with medals and trophies, his room stunting his career.

"You can give me your clothes, and go through that door to shower." He says, laying on the bed and turning the television on that was on the opposite wall.

You blush profusely red, realising you were in his room, going to shower in his bathroom, all whilst he wants your clothes. He looks at you, confused.

"I'll just leave my clothes in the bathroom." You say embarrassed, hoping this wasn't an attempt to get you naked.

"Fine by me." He says, standing from the bed to open some drawers and his closet doors, turning to hand you a top of his.

"Thank you." Your short reply showed your real personality coming back. This was comical, you and Arthur Leclerc playing niceties in his room?

You took the gesture, thinking that he knew you had a rough day and both of your emotions were up in the air. Turning away from him, you opened the door to his bathroom.

The shower wall was covered in intricate emerald tiles, with big white towels in little storage compartments next to the sink ready. The tiles extended down to the bottom of the wall, showing the sleek and clear glass pane to the shower. Looking to your right you saw a tremendous claw foot tub that looked practically untouched, with a window above, showing the incredible views of the Monaco coastline.

You instantly adored the interior designer who worked on his house, because it was truly incredible. Moving away from his impressive house, you started slugging off your worn and soaked clothes hearing them thump onto the tiled floor miserably.

You turned the squeaky shower knob, turning the water on. You step into the warmth, enveloping you into a well needed hug. You stood there as the water pours down onto you, regaining the feeling of your feet back.

You thought you shouldn't be using his water for so long, since he probably wants you out as soon as possible.

You turn the water off, and step out to dry yourself off with a towel. You put your underwear back on, and slip his oversized top on, knowing you can't put your damp jeans back on.

You plait your wet hair into a single dutch braid, and step out holding your wet clothes. If you thought your confusing feelings for Arthur weren't prominent enough, then you were in trouble. You made eye contact with him as he's laying on his bed, shirtless, wearing black joggers and a chain.

His messy blonde hair screaming at you to run before you get any ideas. But little did you know, is that he was also internally freaking out. Seeing you in his top, looking so delicate, and wholesome.

"Come sit." He spoke out, trying to fight his body to stop looking at you.

You walk over, sitting at the side of his bed awkwardly, getting your phone out to open the Uber app.

"I'll call myself a ride, thank you for.. everything you know." You said softly, trying to show your appreciation.

"No, you're staying. I'm not letting you go off with some random dude in the dark thunderstorm." The Monegasque quickly retaliates.

"Uber is a trusted app, thank you very much. Plus, where would I even sleep?" You retort, surprised by his comment.

"You'd be with me, obviously. We can watch a movie, we can separate the bed with pillows, and we'll go to work together." He says, as if this is something he had done a million times before.

"Bold to assume that I like that plan." You snort, his ego showing as per.

"Anything including me, you love." He shoots back, sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm picking the movie." You state, snatching the remote out of his grip, moving up to the top of the bed resting your back against the pillow.

He moved up next to you, slightly smirking at your attitude. You pick to watch 'extraction', as you absolutely adore action movies. As the movie progresses and the outside world slips deeper and deeper into the night, you subconsciously got under the covers, as Arthur moved inches closer to you, knowing what he was doing.

The movie becomes quieter and vaguer as you slip into the tricks of sleeping. You had turned away from the movie and towards Arthur, snuggling your head into the comfortable cotton pillow.

He turned to see you sleeping, and turned the movie off, laying down next to you. He tucked a loose piece of your hair behind your ear, as he also slipped into his own dreams.

Waking up was definitely a shock to the system, realising you were tightly wrapped in Arthur's arm, his shirt that you were wearing ridden up, nearly indecently exposing yourself.

Trying to slowly peel his arm off you and get up, he only pressed you closer to him.

This is the moment you realised that your feelings were clear, and so were his, even if he was unconscious.

A/N; not totally sure on whether i like this or not, oops

[crow-stars]

❝A BRUSH AWAY❞

❦ summary; a gentle moment in a quiet place.

♪the characters in this story; vil schoenheit, gn!reader

✎word count; 587

☛the author's notes; nothing to note...

☪look at the catalogue?

The gentle scritch of pencil against paper was a calming and familiar sound, a welcome one too. It was always pretty silent in the library, except for the occasion where some of the rowdier students decided to hang out in the area. 

You lift your head to look to your left, Vil next to you, his own pencil moving across the paper. The past few minutes were a bit mind numbing, brain begging for some semblance of a break. It just so happens that your eyes trail to Vil’s paper. 

His handwriting was beautiful, every loop of an ‘o’ or curl of a ‘y’ was satisfying to look at. You couldn’t help but follow his pencil tip, awaiting the creation of each letter, each word, each sentence. 

A brief thought of wondering, of how Vil even came to be sitting next to you, floated in your mind. 

It was an offer made by you at first, to study together in the library when he was free. Of course, with Vil being such a busy person, you didn’t expect much when you offered it to the housewarden, especially when he only replied with a curt nod and walked away. So, when Vil had suddenly texted you, asking, well more like telling you, to get to the library in fifteen minutes, you quickly threw your things together and rushed towards the library. 

It wasn’t until you noticed that Vil stopped writing that you snapped from your thoughts, seeing him stare at you as you did a few seconds previously. He had placed his pencil down, head tilting towards you and aiming his sharp gaze towards you as well. 

“Do you need something, little sprout?”

A curl of heat rises to your face, eyes flicking away from Vil’s heavy amethyst gaze. A nervous laugh bubbled up your chest and popped at your lips, fingers wringing nervously together as his stare only continued. 

“Oh, no no! Sorry I was staring. Your handwriting...” You dart your eyes quickly to Vil’s face, his lips still in their usual position, but the ends were upturned just a bit. He already knew your compliment, of course he did. You still decided to continue regardless.

“Your handwriting is really pretty. I like it.”

A charming smile was curled onto Vil’s lips, eyes filled with mirth and amusement. His hand raises, gloved fingers brushing against your cheek. The action compels you to look up, to look at Vil as his fingers brushed against your already flushed cheek. 

They trail up your face, towards your forehead and lingers there, barely moving and leaving you with bated breath. Vil’s hand then rises up, just a bit, and pushes back a hair strand that had been hanging freely. He tucks it behind your ear, lingering just a bit before being pulled back. Vil seems satisfied with himself, a small amused huff exhaling from his nose. 

Such a gentle touch, such slow movements, and it all makes your heart soar and beat and thrash wildly in your chest. 

“There. Not a hair out of place.”

With a gentle pat on your cheek, Vil picks up his pencil once more and resumes with what he was doing before. It’s a bit flabbergasting, with such a sudden change. 

It’s almost enough to want to ask what exactly just happened, even though the event replays over and over again. But your mouth is kept shut and, tentatively, you pick up your pen, pressing the tip against the paper and beginning to write once more. 

His stare is still felt, even when you don’t see him staring. Your hand comes up to your hair, pushing back a few loose strands behind your ear. The small tingling feeling, the remnants of Vil’s touch is still there and it makes your cheeks flush deeply. Vil only chuckles softly. 

[mummybear]

My Brother's Best Friend - Chapter 5 - Unwelcome Visitor

Words : 3831

Warnings: Swearing, Grief, Angst, Anniversary Of A Death, Talk Of Virginity, Degrading Talk And Threats, Protective Stiles And Scott. Think that's it.

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Reader/Sadie McCall, James(OC), Mystery Person! Find out in the next chapter ;)

A/N: So sorry about the wait once again guys! Really hope you like this chapter! Let me know what you think and feel free to ask for a tag if you would be interested! :D

Chapter 5 - Unwelcome Visitor

Stiles doesn’t even try to stop you when you leave your room, and you have to force yourself not to look back. You hold back the urge to ask if he’s coming. Whatever his reasoning, you need to get out. If he’s acting this way because he needs space, then he can have it. Nothing else matters today, you have somewhere more important to be. You can’t let yourself get distracted by anything else. 

Today is the anniversary of Callie’s death. You’d promised yourself that every year on the day of her death you would go to her grave, to take her flowers and tell her about what was going on in town and in your life. After all, you’d made sure to be with her for every birthday celebration when she was alive, why should the anniversary of her death be any different. 

Last night you’d planned to tell Stiles about your scheduled visit after breakfast, but right now, with everything going on between the two of you, the distance could be good for you both. Besides, food is the furthest thing from your mind. As you enter the kitchen the entire room falls silent, and you can feel the ball of nerves that sits at your throat, like a heavy weight that never leaves. Wringing your hands together, you take one look at the plate of food on the table and sickness sweeps through your stomach. 

You feel someone take hold of your arm and you turn to face your mom. She gives you that all knowing look, that she gives better than anyone. She pulls you over to one side, as far away from the others in the room as possible.

"What happened? This isn't just Callie, is it?" She whispers, more than aware of just how many beings with super hearing are around.

Swallowing thickly you feel the tears pricking at the edges of your eyes.

"Can we do this later? I promise, I won’t bail, I just need to get out of this house, I need to get some air.”

Sighing deeply she shakes her head gently. You can easily see the worry in her gaze and the guilt of making her worry causes you to hesitate a little.

“It’s okay. If that’s what you need to do right now, sweetheart, then just be safe. Call Scott or me if you need to speak to someone. Just don’t shut us out, okay?”  

She pulls you into a tight hug and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Never, I swear. I’ll be back later, okay?” 

You can’t face anyone else, so with a final goodbye to your mom you head out. Maybe the others knew not to even try to talk to you, since nobody even tries to stop your escape. You inhale deeply as the fresh morning air hits you in the face, you put on your headphones and select the playlist that you’d updated earlier in the week. Slowly you make your way to the cemetery, trying to ignore the thoughts which want to invade your mind. It’s a peaceful morning, where only a select few people wander the streets. A lone tear rolls down your cheek as you step through the entrance of the cemetery, and you make no move to wipe it away as you slowly make your way to Callie’s grave.

You smile softly when you see her grave coming into view. There are clear signs that people have been here recently, probably her parents, maybe even her grandma. 

You sink to your knees right in front of the headstone, gently brushing away the fallen petals of the flowers which have been left behind. You carefully pick up one of the photos that’s leaning against the gravestone. 

The tears come thick and fast, because it’s a photo of the two of you. One of the last ones you’d taken before her death, and your heart breaks all over again.

“Hey Cal, here we are. I can’t believe it’s been a year already,” you sigh softly, looking up at the sky briefly, before you allow yourself to look back at the headstone. 

“So much has changed since… you’ve been gone. Especially in the last few days. Honestly it’s been kind of crazy. I guess I’m still not one hundred percent sure that I didn’t dream… well… all of it,” you chuckle to yourself as you wipe your eyes on your sleeve. “I need you now more than ever, God, I need you.” You let out a shuddered breath before continuing. 

“That’s selfish, I know. I just miss you, so much. I miss your smile, your laugh, your advice and constant support. Nobody ever did get me the way you do… did, not sure they ever will again. I can practically hear your voice every time something big happens to me,” smiling at the thought you place the photo back against the headstone. “Things have definitely escalated with Stiles, to say the least. Beyond anything we ever talked about. I still can’t wrap my mind around it all.” 

Remembering your other best friend, another wave of grief hits you. 

“Josh still talks about you, all the time. He’s just full of regret, Callie. I know you probably don’t want to hear that, I’m sorry. But we both are, though his reasons are a little different to mine. I know you would lose your mind with what I’m about to tell you, if you were here.”

You smile fondly, thinking of her crush on Josh. “He wishes he’d told you about his feelings for you. Before that awful day that turned everyone's lives upside down. Before everything went wrong…. and you were taken from us. He loves you so much, I’m not sure he knows how to cope with the situation.”

Tears roll down your cheeks once again, showing no sign of stopping, as you wipe your arm across your face. Doing your best to focus on her name written in stone right in front of you, though it’s blurred with your tears. 

“We both wish we’d been there to save you, to help, hell, to do something. I’m so sorry, Callie. I should have saved you…. somehow.” You whisper hoarsely, feeling the unbearable ache in your chest.

Pulling the letter from your pocket just like you have on every visit, you place it under the flower pot, in the small hole you’d made. Knowing that Callie’s parents likely read these letters every time they visited. You’d made no secret that you’d been leaving them there, and every time you returned the previous letter had been taken away. The amount you came to see her might seem strange to some people, but you couldn’t help it, maybe that would dwindle a little with time, though right now it felt like the right thing to do.

A shiver wracks your body as a gust of frosty wind blows through the cemetery, the bushes around you rustling. You wrap your arms around yourself, resting your head on your bent knees.

“I swear this gets harder every time I come here, Cal.” 

You stiffen, feeling a presence behind you, without needing to turn around or even lift your head, you let out an irritated sigh.

“You of all people shouldn’t be here, especially not today. Not around me.”

“You still owe me. It’s been a year, grow a set, Love.” 

Fury fills your every thought as you lift your head and quickly get to your feet, turning to face him.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You’ve got some nerve, you son of a bitch!” 

“You’re still hot when you’re angry, princess. But don’t sass me, and leave my mother out of it would you. You know what I want. I’m here to collect.” He grins at you with those stupid white teeth, and you remember just how dangerous this man is. You’d fallen for his charms when he’d promised to protect Callie, if you went out on a date with him. He’d obviously been full of shit, since she was dead. He had seemed like the only option at the time. Scott was busy with the pack, and you hadn’t wanted to bother him over something that might have been all in your imagination. Something which you’d regretted to this day. 

“Excuse me?! Collect on what, exactly? You promised me you would protect my best friend, which you clearly didn’t do! Since I’m sitting here at her graveside. So get fucked, James. We haven’t had anything to talk about, not for a long time.” 

He’d lured you into a false sense of security when you’d first met. You were lonely, obsessed with your brother’s best friend, who’d never looked at you twice. Then this hot werewolf came along, promising you he wanted to be there for you, that he only wanted to help. You’d been an idiot to fall for it, but he was hot, charming, confident and seemingly capable. You would never fall for his shit again. However, he was dangerous, so you needed to tread carefully. At least that was what the smart part of your brain told you, unfortunately, you weren’t listening to that part, you were hurt, upset and consumed with thoughts of Callie. Not to mention your earlier interaction with Stiles.

“Stay the fuck away from me you scumbag,” you all but growl, your fists clenched at your sides.

James turning up out of nowhere after such a long time, and here of all places had your common sense at breaking point. 

However, before you can act you’re pressed against a tree with his big hand wrapped around your throat.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, you ungreatful little bitch?!” he snarls, his face impossibly close to your own. 

“You’re kidding me right! She’s dead! You didn’t do shit, James. There is no deal! What exactly should I be grateful for?” You grit out, trying to ignore the pain in your throat when his grip tightens.

He leans in closer, running his nose along the side of your neck inhaling deeply.

“Still just as pure as last time, in all the ways that matter to me anyway.” He chuckles deeply, as he pins your arms above your head with his free hand.

You shiver in disgust as he licks up the side of your neck with a groan, “get the fuck off of me.”

Suddenly he stiffens against you and you jolt in his grip as he rips your t-shirt down to reveal the rest of your neck and collarbone, and you immediately know what he’s seen.

“Who’s fucking touched you. You were supposed to be mine, you whore.”

Before you can even think of a reply a deep rumbling growl fills the graveyard, and you shiver involuntarily in his hold and a whimper slips past your lips. That growl is quickly followed by a few others, but the ground shaking roar fills you with relief.

James tosses you aside and turns to face the pack of wolves who are quickly advancing on you both. Your eyes fix on your brother immediately, the tension and fury coming off of him is palpable. You force yourself to climb to your feet, but you don’t dare to go around James. You know how quick his reflexes are.

So instead you try to focus somewhere else to calm your nerves, but as much as you try to avoid Stiles’ gaze, it’s like a magnet pulling you in, and when your eyes lock his eyes begin to glow purple. You hadn’t noticed that James had edged closer to you until it was too late, and his hand was wrapped in your hair tightly. 

“Let her go.” Scott demands as you’re forced to your knees. Scott’s eyes begin to glow red with the power of the Alpha that flows through him.

To James’ credit he does well to hide his flinch, but not well enough judging by the looks on the packs’ faces. Everyone except Stiles, who is now standing at Scott’s side, still focused on you. Scott reaches out just in time to stop Stiles from taking another step towards you.

“What’s it to you? You’re the true Alpha, right? So go find your own bitches to play with. This one is all mine, and she needs to be taught a lesson about what happens when she disobeys me.”

Scott’s smirk is dangerous as he takes a step forward, and you can’t help but wince as James’ grip tightens in your hair.

“Even if I ignore the fact that there’s a woman being held by you, who clearly has no interest. I can’t exactly ignore the fact that she’s my twin sister, and she’s in trouble. So, here’s how this is going to go, you can either let her go right now, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

James remains silent as he stares back at Scott, you try to pull your head away as he lowers his mouth to your ear, “you can go for now. Just know, I will find you again, when nobody is around to save your ass. When you’re all alone again, I’ll finally take what you owe me.” The threat is as clear as the anger in his voice, he throws you forward with so much force you land at Scott’s feet. 

Scott reaches for you to help you up, but sudden movement has you distracted as you watch Stiles walk forward.

“You so much as speak about Sadie like that again, and I will fucking hunt you down and rip your throat out. You touch her again and you’ll damn well pay for it. You want someone to blame for the marks on her, you’re looking at him.”

“It was you?!” James spits as he squares up once again, and Stiles just smirks at him.

“Stiles, don’t.” You rasp, stepping in front of him and resting your hands on his chest, until he looks down at you.

His eyes drop to your neck, probably seeing the marks from James’ hands on your skin. His fingers gently touch the skin as his eyes move back to yours.

“Stiles, get her out of here.” Scott demands as the rest of the pack move in behind him, pushing you and Stiles to the back of the group.

Swallowing hard, Stiles moves his eyes away from your neck and to your surprise he takes your hand, gently tugging you along with him, until you start to follow on your own. You’re surprised, but extremely glad that he actually listened to Scott for once without argument.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks hoarsely, as his fingers tighten over yours, he instinctively pulls you closer to his body.

Things still feel a little awkward and strained between the two of you. However, there’s no denying that you feel yourself relaxing now that you’re close again. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop your feelings from this morning, resurfacing.

“Yeah, I’m fine Stiles. Thanks for coming for me,” you sigh softly, looking around the forest as you continue to walk away. The sounds of anyone else, all that noise it just disappears, until it’s just the two of you. 

“Of course we came for you,” he sighs in reply, and you drop his hand now you know nobody is watching, and wrap your arms around yourself. Unfortunately the feelings from this morning return completely as do his words, repeating on a loop in your mind.

You scoff, unable to help yourself. You move quickly, coming to a stop causing Stiles to follow suit. Allowing you to walk in front of him, so that you’re face to face.

“Why, because I’m Scott’s little sister? Because I’m your responsibility now? Let me save you the trouble Stiles, you’re under no obligation to save me! I was fine before you decided that I was worth your time, and I’ll be just fine after you leave!” You all but scream at him, feeling the anger surging through your body. Somewhere deep inside you know you’re angry at him, furious even, but there’s a very small part of you that feels as though not all of this anger is being aimed in the right direction, but it’s like you just can’t control yourself.

Stiles looks taken aback for a moment, though you can see that your words have hit their target, and hit hard by the look of hurt that crosses his face. Although he also looks worried, he still steps closer, and you clench your fists at your sides as he cups your cheeks in his hands.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry, Sadie. I was such a fucking idiot this morning, you caught me off guard, and as usual my stupid mouth said shit I hadn’t even processed yet. What I should have said was that I was scared to tell you, of all people, what had happened to me. I was worried you’d see me differently, stop giving me shit, and I couldn’t lose that look you give me when nobody was watching us.” You feel your anger beginning to calm as he rests his forehead on your own.

“I should’ve told you that I was too chicken shit to make a move before all of this happened, that I’ve never been happier to have almost died. And now that I know how good we are together, I can’t imagine being away from you. I should’ve told you that although it’s only been a day and a half, everything with us feels beyond right,” he takes your hand and rests it over his heart, you let your fist unclench as he lifts his eyes to yours, you feel a tear slide down your cheek. “You calm this beast inside me… well in all the ways that matter at least.” He smirks at you and you feel a smile tugging at your lips.

“Well, I suppose that is a much better answer. You always ramble when you get nervous.” You agree with a smile wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer as he buries his nose in your neck, inhaling deeply.

You wince when his fingers brush the bruises forming on your throat, and you feel the growl in his throat before you even hear it.

“He wont fucking get away with this, Sadie. I promise you. If Scott doesn’t make him pay, I will. Nobody should lay their fucking filthy hands on you.” 

Trying to lighten the mood a little, you tip his chin so your eyes meet. Doing your best to take the attention away from the thing that’s making his mood sour.

“Well, everyone except you, of course.”

The purple flares in his eyes as he backs you up against the closest tree. You can’t stop the whimper from slipping past your lips as his body presses in tightly against your own. 

“Was that an invitation?” he asks gently, tugging your head back by your hair, so that he can press soft kisses to your throat, masking the other man's scent on your body the best way he knows how. 

The kisses come to a stop just as fast as they’d started as Stiles pulls away to look you in the eye.

“Why did you stop!? It was definitely an invitation,” you pout at him, trying to pull off your sulkiest look.

He groans in regret, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “look, I need to say this before I lose the nerve, as much as I hate to admit it, not everything you said this morning can be talked away between the two of us this quickly.”

Swallowing thickly you meet his eyes, “what do you mean?” 

He looks unsure of himself as he runs a hand through his hair, settling on scratching the back of his neck.

“We do need to go see Deaton. Sooner rather than later, you do need your options as much as it kills me that this might come back to haunt me. But we also need to find out what else he knows.”

“I was upset, Stiles. I didn’t mean anything by it.” 

“I know you were, with good reason. Sadie this isn’t some kind of trick, I just want you to have all of your options. If we keep going, you know, with this thing between us. Then I think we need to fully understand what you’re getting yourself into, and honestly, I really need to know what the hell is going on with me.” Stiles tells you nervously but with so much passion you’re no longer able to argue.

You sigh sadly before wrapping your arms around his neck again. 

“I know you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. 

“Trust me, I want to slap myself right now.” Stiles sighs, sitting down leaning back against the tree. 

You smile and carefully straddle his body, gently sitting down in his lap.

“Okay, so say I agree to go. Will you tell me how long you noticed me watching you?” 

You giggle as that playful expression crosses his face and he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close.

“You weren’t exactly subtle, Minx.”

“So how long?” you whisper against his lips.

“A few years. I liked it, you’re so beautiful, so smart, like my forbidden little secret,” he murmurs quietly, softly brushing the hair back from your face. 

“You should know it was much longer, I had so much planned for you. Still do.” 

“Come on, don’t do this to me, not now. I’ve always loved that bad girl sparkle in your eyes.” 

You can’t help but grin, and the thick bulge you’re now sitting on is only putting a strain on your self control.

“And you never thought about making a move?”

Stiles bites his bottom lip as his grip tightens around you.

“Oh, trust me. I thought about it regularly. Things have changed though, I won’t fuck you, or make love to you or mark you, not until we know everything. Then as soon as we do and you make a decision. If you choose me, I promise you, a pack of wolves couldn’t stop me from taking and marking what’s mine.” 

You moan at his words just before his lips crash against yours, you get lost in the passion as you grind your hips against his, the two of you holding onto each other like the world is going to end. Suddenly Stiles pulls away and his hands grip your hips halting your movements. 

“What is it?” you whisper sensing his distress.

“Someone’s coming, trust me and stay close,” He whispers in reply, carefully getting to his feet, he pushes you behind him.

“No matter what happens just promise you’ll stay behind me.” He sniffs the air and his body stiffens under your hands.

“Oh, Mischief,” a haunting voice calls and a shiver races up your spine, you know that voice.

Tags:

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[alexandralyman]

Grounded

(Frankie Morales/OFC/Javier Pena)

For my partner in crime, @meanderingcaptainswanmusings - a very belated birthday fic featuring Javier, Frankie, and the lucky OFC who gets stuck with them in an abandoned cartel safehouse for the night. Whatever will the three of them do to pass the time?

(hint: they're going to do her. this is porn wrapped in some semblance of plot. all 11,000 words of it)

Rating: E

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50894950

grounded

“We’re leaving. Now.”

Agent Peña practically spat the words, hands planted firmly on his hips and standing almost toe-to-toe with his opponent in the argument that had been going on for the better part of an hour now to an audience of one. As if on cue, immediately following the words there was a clap of thunder from outside that was so loud it made her teeth rattle, and the machine-gun retort of the rain started up again.

“No we are fucking not!”

Captain Morales almost had to yell to be heard over the downpour, his arms crossed over his chest and his easy smile replaced with a heavy scowl. “I don’t know about you, Peña, but I sure as shit don’t have a goddamn death wish. Trying to take off now would be suicide.”

They glared at each other some more, two stubborn mules practically pawing the ground and breathing hot out of their noses. She almost expected them to start head-butting each other. Neither one backed down in the silent stare-off until Agent Peña finally said, “We’ll take a vote then. Majority rules.”

Two heads immediately swiveled to look at her then, the third person on this failed mission and therefore the tiebreaker who would make the decision to stay or to go. Two pairs of dark eyes as thunderous as the storm outside fixed on her face and she could practically feel each of them silently willing her, “Pick me.” As fellow DEA, she should be on Agent Peña’s side, as someone who also didn’t have a death wish, she was leaning more towards Captain Morales.

Peña was going to be pissed, but everyone in the agency knew that was his natural state anyway and she was no exception.

“I’m with Morales,” she said at last, gaze sliding away from the betrayal on Peña’s face. “He’s the pilot, if he says it’s not safe we should do what he says and wait.”

“Ha!” Captain Morales crowed, moving to stand next to her. “Thank you, Agent, that’s exactly right, you should do what I say. And I say we stay right here. Majority rules, right, Peña?”

Agent Javier Peña had the look of a man who knew he’d lost but was unable to admit defeat. Without saying a word he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and jammed it into his mouth before stalking off without a backwards glance. Not that he could go very far in the two-roomed house with rain coming down so hard outside that it was enough to wash away any sin and leave you stripped bare and clean as the day you were born.

“Dick,” Morales said to the retreating back, rolling his eyes. If Peña heard him, and he must have, he didn’t stop. Once he’d disappeared into the other room Morales pulled off his baseball cap and raked his fingers through his hair, still wet from when he went outside earlier to check on the condition of the runway. He’d already shed his tactical vest and the shirt underneath was damp too, clinging to his broad shoulders and plastered to his chest. She admired the view, considering there was fuck all else to do at the moment. The raid was a bust, the rain had made both leaving and communications impossible, and she hadn’t exactly brought along a book to pass the time. Outside there was nothing but dense Colombian jungle in all directions for miles and the pounding against the ramshackle building grew even louder, it had to be absolutely pouring out there. The weather had turned on a dime and turned on them, from clear skies to a Biblical deluge in a matter of moments.

“We’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Morales answered her unspoken question while attempting to wring out the hem of his shirt and revealing a sliver of bare stomach over the waistband of his jeans in the process. She admired that too. It wasn’t very professional of her, but after almost two years of undercover work where she had to give up everything, her name, her friends, her family, her whole life, in pursuit of the greater good, she wasn’t going to turn herself into HR over some harmless ogling. Captain Francisco Morales was a good-looking man and she was a DEA agent, not a nun.

“If you say so,” she said, giving him a little two-fingered salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He chuckled at that, looking amused instead of his earlier annoyance. Peña’s absence probably helped.

“We’re basically off the clock now. Please, call me Frankie.”

The request was accompanied by a wink. She hadn’t known Morales long, but it was enough to know he was a bit of a flirt. Not in a gross way, though, and nothing she couldn’t handle, as a woman stationed in Colombia surrounded by men who viewed flirting as much the national sport alongside tejo.

“Well then, Frankie,” she drawled back, dragging the name out. “I guess I’m stuck with you, huh?”

His smile grew wider, as if being stuck in an abandoned cartel safehouse in the pouring rain for God only knew how long with her (and Javier Peña, a little voice in her mind helpfully reminded her) was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Lucky me,” he said.

Lucky her.

********

The cigarette did absolutely nothing to calm the rage that was simmering under his skin, threatening to boil over like an unattended pot left on the stove. It burned right down to his fingers in only a few deep inhales, leaving behind a long, unbroken snake of ash that fell to the floor in one piece. He ground it out under his boot, the dark smear matching his darker mood.

Javier swore under his breath and lit another, swearing even louder when he burned his thumb on the lighter thanks to his own carelessness. He blew out a lungful of smoke and stuck the thumb in his mouth, trying to suck away the pain like a small child coming down from a tantrum, a comparison that was probably a bit too apt at the moment. As much as he hated to admit it, Morales had been right. It was clearly too dangerous to try to take off in such bad weather, no matter how much he wanted to run away from this utter clusterfuck of a mission.

His utter clusterfuck.

The intel had been good, he would have bet his damn badge on it. A cartel safehouse hidden deep in the jungle that was only accessible by plane, used to stash drugs, guns, cash, anything they wanted to keep away from both the DEA and their competitors. He’d received the go ahead after some lobbying⸺aka being a giant pain in the ass about it until he received grudging permission⸺to put together a strike team and conduct a raid. Warrants had been signed, equipment requisitioned, all requiring even later than usual late nights at the office and careful planning to ensure the cartel didn’t catch wind of it and clear out beforehand. A team of three, the maximum that would fit in a plane small enough to land on the makeshift runway hand-carved from the underbrush like a scar carved into the cheek of a snitch. Two DEA agents, and a pilot who could also handle a gun, just in case. That meant borrowing one from the military through some backdoor channels.

Captain Francisco Morales, call sign “Catfish”, of all things, was the pilot. He’d flown them to the painstakingly acquired coordinates and landed on the barely visible runway, lining up the Cracker Jack prize of a plane with clear skill and a baseball metaphor about sliding into home at the bottom of the ninth. Javier had mostly ignored him, too focused on the sight of a building that had been hidden under the tree canopy, right where his informant had said it would be. The safehouse. He’d taken the point position once they exited the plane, all sweating under their tactical gear, guns drawn, running through every possible scenario of what lay behind the rusty door except for the two things they’d actually found.

Jack, and squat.

The house had been empty, no drugs, no guns, no cash. All that was left were some marks scored deep in the floor where things had clearly been moved in haste, an empty shipping crate, and a scattered deck of cards that must have been used to kill time along with a dog-eared porn mag that Morales poked with the toe of his boot, both eyebrows raised under his decidedly not military-issue baseball cap.

“Looks like we missed all the fun,” the pilot had said, clearly bemused by the whole situation.

Javier had grit his teeth so hard he could still feel the ache in his jaw even now, like someone had socked him one. Clearly all that meticulous planning and late nights had been for fuck all, the house had been emptied of anything useful unless they wanted to play Go Fish or jerk off to Miss September and while he definitely wanted to throttle something at the moment, it wasn’t that.

Then the rain had started.

Morales had bolted outside as soon as they heard the first drop hit the roof and when he came back in again with water dripping from the brim of his hat he insisted it was too dangerous to take off again until the weather cleared and they would just have to wait until then, however long it took. Javier had argued with him about it for over an hour, more out of annoyance at the failed bust than actual disagreement. If Murphy were here he would probably have his own completely unhelpful opinion to add, but his usual partner was stateside at the moment so he had to bring in another agent instead on the op who was now an eyewitness to what was sure to be the talk of the DEA when they returned empty-handed. Javier Peña tilting at another windmill, the Don Quixote of Colombia.

He didn’t know if not having Steve here to serve as his Sancho was better, or worse.

The agent he’d chosen had done a stint undercover and knew the cartel, understood how they operated as well as anyone at the agency. Better than most at the agency, the paper-pushers who never left their cubicles and clocked out every day at five on the dot. Undercover assignments were dangerous for any agent, and even more so for a woman. He’d brought her in because he was genuinely impressed with her work every time one of her reports crossed his desk and wanted her insight, despite what anyone else might think about why he’d handpicked her specifically. Like all undercover agents she was only referred to by a code name within the agency in case of moles or leaks, never her real name or the false identity she was given. One was “Lobo”, the wolf, one was “Escorpión”, the scorpion, it went without saying that both of them were men. Hers was Cariño, a backhanded compliment to demean her accomplishments in the field by reducing her to nothing more than what a girlfriend or mistress would be called. Darling. Sweetheart. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Cariño.

Javier never thought he’d wish he was stuck in the jungle for who the fuck knew how long with Steve Murphy, but that thorn in his side of a partner would be far preferable at the moment to a woman who’d more than held her own against the cartel for so long and wore her code name as a badge of honour instead of an insult. If Murphy had taken Morales’s side over his, sure, he would have been pissed, but there wouldn’t have been the sudden churn of jealousy deep in his gut like there was when she did. They were both DEA, they were supposed to stick together, goddammit. The fact that Morales had spent the entire mission prep sneaking interested glances at her whenever she wasn’t looking sure as shit didn’t help matters. Javier wasn’t sure if she’d noticed, but he certainly did. Fucking flyboy. And now thanks to his childish hissyfit they were cozying up together in the other room because he’d dragged them both here and left them alone before he did something even more stupid than think with his dick, like punch Morales in the face.

And the absolute cherry on the shit sundae of a mission was the fact that he only had a half pack of cigarettes left. Less than half, he realized, peering into it with a grimace.

He exhaled the last of the one he was currently smoking, watching the cloud of smoke dissipate into the empty room. From the other he could hear the murmur of voices, the lower tone of Captain Morales mixed easily with hers. Agent Cariño. Darling. Sweetheart.

Not your sweetheart, Javi. Not yours.

*******

Contrary to what Agent Jackass Peña clearly believed, Frankie hadn’t been exaggerating the danger of trying to take off in the pouring rain on that joke of a runway. If anything, he’d been downplaying it. He’d seen longer driveways, for fuck’s sake.

Luckily there’d been a hanger, or, more accurately, a shed with a sheet of corrugated metal painted green to serve as a roof that was clearly meant more to hide a plane on the ground than to protect it from the elements. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and with his plane stowed away there was nothing to do now except wait out the rain with his two teammates once Peña had finally accepted they weren’t taking off until Frankie said they were, goddammit. And with the way it was still pouring, that wasn’t going to be anytime soon. He hadn’t said it out loud, but they were probably going to be grounded here all night. That was going to be a treat, with that chip on Peña’s shoulder currently about the size of a 747.

As if she knew what Frankie was thinking, the other agent chimed in with, “Cut him some slack,” from where she was currently sitting cross-legged and serene as Buddha on the dusty floor. He, by contrast, was sitting with his back to the wall, legs akimbo, in defiance of his military training. This wasn’t a military op so he decided he was allowed, just like he’d gotten to wear civvies instead of uniform since officially he was here in a private capacity to cut through the red tape.

“I stand by my earlier assessment. He’s a dick.”

She didn’t argue with him, merely lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “He’s a dick who’s trying to bring the most powerful drug lord in Colombia to justice. You can’t do this job and not be a dick.”

“You aren’t,” he pointed out.

“I’ve frequently been called a bitch.”

Frankie wasn’t surprised by that, but he didn’t like that he wasn’t. “By insecure dicks, I bet.”

“True,” she agreed, cocking a finger at him while her gun stayed holstered at her side, “but never by Agent Peña.”

He glanced in the direction Peña had left, feeling his estimation of the man go up a notch. Then it went down again. “Wait, didn’t he call you honey or sweetheart earlier? That’s not better.”

“Oh, the Cariño thing? That’s not really his fault, it was my code name when I was undercover. I still get called it all the time at the agency. When I’m not being called a bitch, that is.

Frankie felt his eyebrows shoot up on his face. “Your code name is Cariño?”

Who the fuck came up with that? Must have been another one of those DEA dicks, it sounded like a delightful place to work.

She looked amused. “Isn’t your…callsign, right? Isn’t your callsign Catfish?”

“Yes,” he sputtered, “it is, but, seriously, Cariño?”

“Yes, seriously, Catfish.”

She had a lovely smile, another point in her favour over her dick of a partner. Frankie wasn’t sure if the man was even capable of smiling. Other points that he’d noted over the last few days while preparing for the mission were her laugh, her face, and most recently, the fact that she’d sided with him over Peña. That last one might be a little petty, but Frankie didn’t give a shit.

“Fine,” he agreed. “I’ll cut him some slack. But only for you, Cariño.”

He said the endearment with as much exaggeration as possible, rolling the R like he was trying to start a propeller with his tongue. His reward was a full laugh as she stood up, brushing the dust from her thighs. The pants she was wearing were utilitarian, almost military, and shouldn’t look that good on anyone.

“Don’t worry about Peña. I can handle dicks like him, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Frankie kept his mouth shut despite all the retorts that immediately sprang to mind. While he sure as hell wouldn’t mind being “handled” by her, he also wasn’t stupid enough to actually say that out loud.

“C’mon,” she said, holding her hands out to him. “Let’s go raid the kitchen, since there’s nothing else here to raid. Maybe we’ll have better luck finding something to eat.”

He let her help pull him to his feet, even though he didn’t really need the assistance. Still, it would be rude not to accept the offer. When he stood up to his full height he rocked forward a bit on the uneven floor, thrown off balance and taking her with him thanks to their joined hands. She instinctively grabbed his biceps to steady herself as they regained their footing, standing close, so close to each other, an unnecessary apology on her lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his own hands hovering in the air around the vicinity of her waist just in case he needed to catch her. She was shorter than him, he had to look down to meet her eyes while she looked up, her head tilted back, making his mind wander down a road that it definitely shouldn’t take on an op. Like how easy it would be to bridge the gap, close the bit of distance that was left between them.

So easy.

But Frankie Morales wasn’t that kind of a dick.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

And if it took them perhaps a moment too long to step away from each other, what was the harm? The mission was over, unofficially, anyway, and there was no one around to witness it.

Except there was. Frankie sensed eyes on his back and his hand drifted towards his gun out of habit as he glanced over his shoulder. Agent Peña was there, arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown under his carefully groomed mustache. How long had he been watching? How much had he seen?

“Catfish?” she called, when he didn’t follow.

Now Peña was looking at him.

“Coming, Cariño,” Frankie replied, unable to resist.

Peña’s frown deepened even more. Frankie knew that look now and it gave him a moment of pause as the implication sunk in.

Jealousy.

**********

The safe house kitchen, if it could be called that, since the slapdash building lacked such upscale amenities as electricity and plumbing, consisted of a camp stove, a five gallon bucket, a few canned goods that were thick with dust, and some decidedly unwashed dishes. They were decorated with a rather incongruous floral pattern, as if a hardened drug smuggler had taken them from his grandmother’s house.

None of it looked very promising.

Until she found the bottle of whiskey.

The unopened bottle of whiskey, seal still intact.

“Oh Cariño, you’re breaking my heart,” Frankie said to the tune of Simon and Garfunkel’s Cecilia when she showed it to him, one hand pressed dramatically to his chest. “Can’t drink and fly.”

“Suit yourself.”

They both turned at Javier’s voice, drawn to the promise of alcohol like a good Catholic looking for something to feel guilty about. That was another thing about the job, the guilt. You couldn’t do it and not carry some of that around too. He almost shoulder-checked Frankie when he walked past him to snag the bottle from her and squint at the label. Frankie rolled his eyes and mouthed, “Dick,” behind his back.

“Luckily,” Javier continued, “you and I don’t have that problem, right Cariño?”

He smiled then, with a clear challenge in the curl of his lip as he effortlessly broke the seal and opened the whiskey with a twist of his wrist. Clean glasses were another non-existent amenity, so he took a healthy swig right from the bottle as easily as if he was drinking water and then held it back out.

The liquor numbed her lips and burned her throat, it was strong. The kind of thing you drank when you wanted to forget what you did with a nose full of coke and a gun in your hand. Javier took the bottle back and his second pull was even longer than the first. If even half of what was said about him around the agency was true, he definitely had a few things he probably wanted to forget.

So did she. Undercover work did that to a person.

“You puke in my plane, I’ll throw you out of it mid-air, don’t think I won’t.”

Frankie directed it at Javier, not her, which didn’t go unnoticed by the sharp-eyed agent.

“I suppose she gets a pass, huh?” Javier asked, more a statement than a question with a clear edge in his voice.

“She didn’t drink half the damn bottle in one go.”

“I can hold my liquor, Morales. Maybe you can’t, but I can.”

He took another healthy swig to punctuate the jab, long throat bobbing as he swallowed, while Frankie looked to be about a heartbeat away from punching him despite his earlier promise to cut him some slack. Not that she blamed him, Javier had taken all the slack and then just had to give the rope another tug. The tension between them was palpable, two very different men stuck together with nothing else to do but argue.

Two very attractive men with nothing else to do, a less than helpful part of her mind chimed in. She blamed the whiskey.

It went down much easier the second time, when she swiped the bottle back from Javier’s unresisting hand and took another pull of her own. They both fell silent as she did, and even though her eyes closed when she tipped her head back and bared her throat to let the amber liquor slide down it she could feel them watching. When she handed the now considerably lighter bottle back to Javier he took it without a word, still watching with an intensity she could practically feel against her skin. They both were.

It was kicked up a notch when she started to open the clasps on her tactical vest, two pairs of dark eyes widening in surprise as she loosened the straps and pulled the damn thing off. It was heavy, not really designed for a woman, and the weight of it along with the damp heat had left the shirt underneath plastered to her body so that it clung to every line and curve.

“There now, that’s better,” she said, setting the vest aside.

“I agree.”

It was Javier who spoke, in a whiskey soaked voice that burned more than the liquor.

“Me too.”

Frankie clearly wasn’t going to be left out and she smiled at him, not minding the appreciative look on his face at all. She’d admired him, so fair was fair, after all.

“At least there’s one thing the two of you agree on.”

They gave near identical amused snorts in perfect unison at that and it made her grin go wider.

“Cariño,” Frankie said, his tongue rolling deliciously over the endearment she also didn’t mind coming from him, “I think most men would agree on you. Peña?”

“He’s…not wrong,” Javier admitted with a bit of a cough, like it cost him something to agree with Frankie but he wasn’t going to deny it completely, giving the tiniest of nods towards the other man.

This wasn’t how she expected the night to go, but after days and weeks and months of pretending to be someone else, giving up her own needs, her own wants, even her own goddamn name, in service of the greater good, she was more than ready to slip back into her own skin. To drink whiskey without fear of getting drunk and revealing too much to the wrong set of ears, to flirt with the man (or men) she wanted to flirt with instead of whoever the agency told her to bat her eyelashes at next, to not have to guard her tongue or watch her own back in the field, constantly on edge and constantly feeling alone.

She wasn’t alone now.

The rain continued to lash against the safe house from the outside like a spurned lover demanding to be let in, clearly not about to end anytime soon.

Frankie moved first, crossing the distance between them and standing so close that she had to tip her head back to look up at him, just like earlier.

“Was it good?” he asked, voice low and intimate. “The whiskey?”

She held her hand out without looking and Javier silently passed her the bottle.

“Why don’t you taste it for yourself?”

With that she took another healthy swig, coating her mouth with the smoky liquor and pointedly not offering Frankie a drink. His gaze dropped to her mouth, her invitation clear. A hand curled around her hip, pulling her closer to meet the long line of his body. Her free hand went to his chest, spreading flat and feeling the broad expanse of muscle that lay hidden under his shirt. Frankie dipped his head and tasted the whiskey from her lips, from her mouth, demanding entrance with his tongue to chase every last, lingering drop. She felt more than heard him groan low in his throat, whether from the alcohol or the kiss or from both. The hand on her hip tightened and pulled her closer, leaving no space between them, her breasts pressed to his chest and the clear evidence of his desire against her stomach.

“Fuck,” he muttered against her lips when they finally had to break apart for air. “Wanted to do that all fucking day, you have no idea.”

Her own voice was high and breathless, “Yeah?”

There was the sound of a throat being cleared somewhere behind her and she twisted in Frankie’s arms to see that Javier was just standing there watching them make out like teenagers at a party and thinking God knew what about the little display. Or maybe only el Diablo knew just what was going on behind those shadowed eyes at the moment. Frankie traced a slow, deliberate circle with his thumb on the jut of her hip that was incredibly distracting as she looked at Javier, but he said nothing.

“I can leave if you want me to,” Javier offered at last, “Well, not leave,” he added, since none of them could, at the moment, “but I can give you two some…privacy.”

Javier had watched her kiss Frankie, a kiss that was still clinging to her lips more than the whiskey. The burning desire in his gaze hadn’t been doused by watching her embrace another man, if anything it was fanned even higher. Before undercover work, before the agency, it would have been unthinkable, too depraved, too forbidden, an unspoken sin. But she’d seen too much to still cling to those old beliefs, Javier had as well. You couldn’t do this job and stay the same person you were, before.

“You can stay if you want to, Javier,” she said. Stay, she thought. Both of you.

“That’s not what I asked. What do you want, Cariño? Do you want me to leave so Morales can fuck you in private the way he’s clearly been itching to ever since the two of you met? Do you want me to stay and watch him fuck you? Or, do you want me…”

He moved then, silent and lethal, like the raid was still on and he was moving into position to strike at his chosen target. Maybe he was. Javier was so different from the more laid-back Frankie, so intense, so driven, and she could only imagine what it would be like to have all of that focused solely on her. May God have mercy on her soul, she knew with absolute certainty what he was going to ask and what her answer was going to be.

“…to join you,” Javier finished, his gaze dragging along the length of her body like a pour of the amber-dark whiskey and heavy with promise.

The pound of the rain outside was barely audible now over the thump of her heart in her chest and the almost painful throb of need and want between her legs. Undercover work had taught her how to lie more easily than telling the truth, but she couldn’t deceive herself about this. What Javier was offering—what they were both offering—or were they? Frankie’s hand had stilled on her hip, though he hadn’t moved away and his body was warm and solid against her back. As if he knew what she was thinking Javier looked over her shoulder, at the third person in this possible equation.

“You don’t have a problem with that, do you, Morales?”

The stupid rivalry between them was clearly far from over, there was a clear challenge in Javier’s tone as he stared Frankie down, one corner of his lips hitching up in the tiniest smirk. Not about to be outdone, Frankie slipped his fingers under the hem of her shirt, stroking the skin just above her waist.

“Whatever the lady wants is more than fine with me, Peña,” he said. Then he leaned down and spoke directly into her ear, she could feel the warm breath and the faintest graze of his mouth as he added, “it’s up to you. Say the word, baby. Say the word.”

What did the lady want? She wanted Frankie, with his easy smile that made her feel sixteen again and that deft navigator’s touch all over her body. She also wanted Javier, with his single-minded drive and that slow, sinful grin that promised pure satisfaction. Say the word and they would both be hers. Say the word and she would be theirs.

For however long they were stuck here, that is.

When she held her hand out to Javier and beckoned him closer he took it, letting her pull him forward until she was pressed between them. Frankie dipped his head and kissed her neck, his scruff rasping deliciously against the delicate skin. Javier was more clean shaven, cheeks and chin bare, only the mustache that tickled her lips when he cupped her cheek in a broad palm and kissed her too. His kiss was harder, rougher than Frankie’s, like he wanted to drink her in as voraciously as he’d drunk the whiskey. His free hand fell to her other hip, opposite of where Frankie’s hand still rested so that she was being held by both of them, swaying back and forth against the press of two hard, thick outlines, one to her ass, the other to her stomach. Clear, physical evidence (she was a DEA agent, she always needed evidence) that both of these desirable men wanted her and wanted her badly enough that they were willing to share despite the animosity between them. It made her more light-headed than the whiskey, knees going weak enough that she wrapped an arm around Javier’s neck to keep herself upright. Their strong hands guided and coaxed her, as pliable as a rag doll between them while they both marked themselves on her skin.

While there wasn’t much in the way of furniture, there was a makeshift bed comprised of some cots that had been left behind, and Frankie had brought in blankets from the plane after it was clear they were spending the night. It would do. They started stripping off her clothes together, Frankie unbuttoning her shirt while Javier slid her pants down her legs, hands roaming over her back and thighs as more and more of her was exposed to them. When she was down to just her bra and panties, plain, boring, get the job done underwear because she sure as hell didn’t get dressed for the mission this morning thinking that anyone was going to see them, Frankie laid her down on her back on the cot. He knelt between her legs and rubbed a thumb on the edge of his lips as he looked her up and down, her already rosy skin flushing even more at the scrutiny.

“Now these,” he said at last, sliding his hands up the outside of her thighs to where the waistband of her panties sat at her hips, “definitely need to come off too. Don’t you agree?”

It was directed at Javier, not her. He had lost his own tactical vest and his shirt was half undone, tempting hints of chest and stomach peeking through that made her mouth water.

“Si,” Javier agreed. “She’s still far too dressed.”

“She is. Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Hearing them talk about her like that was a much bigger turn on than she expected, like she was theirs to do whatever they wanted with. When Frankie hooked his fingers in her panties to pull them off she lifted her hips to help, while Javier watched from where he was standing. Frankie was already shirtless, his bare shoulders pushing her thighs apart as he lowered himself down and hooked her legs over the broad width of them. He placed an open-mouthed kiss just below her navel, and then another one a bit lower, mapping out a trail until he reached his destination with the same unerring accuracy as he did in his plane.

Fuck. He was good. Really good. Some men were as perfunctory about this as a child grudgingly eating their vegetables to get dessert, Frankie was not. He dove right in, spreading her with his thumbs to open her fully to his eager mouth. Long, broad strokes with the flat of his tongue were alternated with using the tip to tease her clit, making her gasp and jerk against him as he kept at it until it was almost too much to take. She glanced down and saw he was staring up at her even as his mouth stayed busy against her cunt, and then the bastard actually winked at her and gave a particularly devious swipe that had her head falling back against the scratchy airplane blanket and her eyes screwing shut. One hand sank into his hair, twisting in the curls to keep herself tethered to something, anything, as a high-pitched cry was pulled from the back of her throat and echoed in a deep groan from where his face was buried between her legs. Frankie was obviously enjoying this too.

The cot dipped as a weight settled on it and she opened her eyes to see Javier had joined them, shirt gone and jeans unbuttoned but still zipped. His erection was straining against the denim, she wanted to reach out and cup her hand over it, feel the shape and the weight in her palm.

“Does it feel good, Cariño?” Javier asked, as casually as if they were discussing the weather and not Frankie eating her out like she was a five-course banquet. He ran a finger delicately down the slope of one breast and just brushed the nipple under her bra, making it stiffen even more. “Is he making you feel good?”

“Yes,” she managed to gasp, “Fuck…yes.”

“She tastes fucking incredible,” Frankie mumbled, barely lifting his head long enough to get the words out before diving back in. He was using his fingers now, pumping two in and out in a steady rhythm and flicking his tongue over her clit. Javier leaned down and kissed her again, swallowing every moan, hand on her breast. She could feel the wave of pleasure about to crest, riding the sensation Frankie was drawing out with his mouth and hands until he pushed those two fingers deep inside while curling his wrist just right and sucking hard on her swollen clit. They might be grounded for now, but he made her fly straight into bliss, soaring high for long moments until she came down at last. Frankie looked incredibly smug about it, crawling up her body in a prowl and sharing the taste of herself in his mouth like she’d shared the whiskey with him, weight braced on his arms and caging her underneath him.

“Your turn, Peña,” he said after another kiss that was a sweet peck, in sharp contrast to how he’d just had his mouth pressed hotly between her thighs. He rolled over to the side and propped his head up on his hand, clearly intending to also take his turn as the observer. “Show our girl a good time.”

The part of her that had fought her way up the ranks in the DEA against a veritable wall of patronizing men who’d nicknamed her darling should absolutely hate that, but that part was drowned out by sheer, voluptuous satisfaction at the way he’d both claimed her and offered her up to Javier on a silver platter in one fell swoop. Still, she wasn’t just theirs tonight, they were hers and before Javier could climb on top of her she pushed him onto his back instead and moved to straddle him with a leg slung over his hips and her hands on his chest. He didn’t protest, skimming his fingers up her ribs and roaming across her back to blindly undo the clasp of her bra. It was the last bit of clothing she had on, but any attempt at modesty was long gone by now and she let him tug it down her arms and toss it aside. He immediately cupped her bare breasts, she could feel the calluses wrought by long hours at the firing range to blow off steam and the endless reams of paperwork that still had to be filled out by hand. His touch was just the right side of rough against her tender skin, the wide palms and long fingers working in tandem to roll and weigh and knead.

“Did you enjoy the show?” she asked, looking down at him. A corner of his lips lifted in amusement while he rubbed her nipples with his thumbs and made the tight points even tighter.

“What do you think? Watching a beautiful woman getting pleasured, knowing I’m going to make her scream even louder next, what’s not to like?”

There was a snort from Frankie at that little bit of one-upmanship, but he didn’t say anything in response and only settled his head more firmly on his hand. She’d give Frankie something he’d enjoy, watching her take Javier down a peg first. Her hands spread flat on his chest, holding him down as she shuffled backwards and dipped her head. She placed a kiss to the plane of his sternum, swirled her tongue around a flat nipple and was rewarded with a clear hitch in his breathing, and then started to make her way down the expanse of golden skin with more licks and kisses and little nibbles. When she reached the line of hair that ran down his stomach from his navel and disappeared under his jeans she nuzzled her nose into it, finding it to be surprising soft instead of coarse. There was another hitch in breath from above and the muscles in his abdomen contracted when she ran her tongue down the downy line. His jeans were peeled down his thick thighs with a little difficulty since he wore them tight enough to count the spare change in his pocket, and once he was laid out naked underneath her something else she’d long since suspected was revealed at last.

Agent Javier Peña packed considerably more than just heat.

And from the shit-eating grin on his face as she just stared, the bastard knew it. No wonder he was such a dick.

“Like what you see?” he asked, putting one arm behind his head and sounding way too satisfied. That was clearly a rhetorical question.

Payback was a bitch and half the DEA thought she was one anyway, so she kept her gaze locked with his while she leaned down and let her tongue dart out to just barely graze the swollen tip, gratified to see his smile flicker a bit. After a few more kitten-licks that were more suggestions than actual contact to build the anticipation, she opened her mouth fully and swallowed him down in a hot slide. Javier let out a noise like someone had just punched him in the stomach as she took him deep, a sharp inhale that melted into a low groan while he went even harder and throbbed against her tongue.

“Dios mio,” he swore. “Fuck!”

Javier Peña was a dick, and an asshole, and an assortment of other unflattering sobriquets that he wore proudly around the office alongside those ridiculously tight jeans, just as she owned her thinly-disguised insult of a code name, but he was putty underneath her now. He let her set the pace, not trying to guide her with rough hands pulling at her hair or thrusting up to fuck her mouth despite the want she could practically feel thrumming under his skin. She went over him like an ice cream cone on a hot day, swirling her tongue over the blunt head of his cock and licking all along the thick shaft as if she was chasing errant drops, before swallowing him down again as deep as she could. Eventually he couldn’t hold back any longer, letting out a string of curses as his hips started to jerk upwards.

“Your fucking mouth. Take it, that’s it, fuck baby, take me deep, just like that. So good, fuck, so fucking good.”

A quick glance up revealed that his head was thrown back against the cot, his chest heaving and the cords on his neck starting to pop as she drew him closer and closer to the edge. Frankie was still watching, one hand shoved deep into his jeans and obviously stroking himself to the show. When their eyes met he winked at her and pursed his lips in a kiss. Having him watch while she sucked Javier off made her burn even hotter, to have not just one, but two men so obviously turned on was making her positively ache between her thighs like nothing else ever had. Getting off once thanks to Frankie’s talented mouth wasn’t nearly enough, she wanted, needed, both of them to fuck her before this was over.

Javier clearly felt the same because he suddenly pulled her off him, his hard cock slipping from her swollen lips and slapping against his stomach with a wet thwack.

“Not done with you yet,” he muttered, voice edged like a knife and sitting up to manhandle her around until she was on her hands and knees. Frankie slid under her as he did, so that she was looking down at him while Javier knelt behind her. There was the unmistakable rip of foil and somehow it wasn’t a surprise that he had condoms, it was probably as much a habit for him to carry them as his gun and the ever-present pack of cigarettes. Maybe she should be offended that he brought them on the raid, but it would be pretty damn hypocritical of her in her current position.

“Didn’t peg you for the Boy Scout type, Peña,” Frankie called over her shoulder. “Always prepared, huh?”

“You should be thanking me, Morales. And you probably were a Boy Scout, so fuck off.”

“Nah. I’m quite comfortable where I am, thanks.”

She couldn’t believe they were still bickering with her naked between them, knees spread on the outside of Frankie’s, ass in the air, being served up to Javier on a fucking silver platter.

“Do you two really need me to be here or do you just want to argue with each other instead?”

A large, warm hand ran along her back, pressing down a bit to make her hips tilt up even more.

“So demanding, Cariño,” Javier tsked, “when this is all for you. Now pay attention, Morales, and watch how it’s done.”

Still. Fucking. Bickering. Men. She looked down at Frankie with a scowl that wasn’t entirely mock. He didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest by it. If anything he was clearly enjoying himself, grinning and pulling her down for a deep kiss that made her annoyance melt away. The man and his mouth were a devastating combination.

“Brace yourself against me, sweetheart, while he takes you for a ride,” Frankie murmured against her lips before giving her another kiss that made her toes curl and her clit throb. “I’ve got you.”

“We’ve got you,” Javier corrected, starting to push inside. Her eyes fluttered shut, he was thick and hard and as wet and ready as she already was, his sheer size gave her body pause for a moment as if it didn’t know whether to accept or reject him. She groped blindly for Frankie with a gasp, feeling him hold her with sure hands.

“Fuck, so tight,” Javier muttered through gritted teeth, his hips stilling and fingers digging into her skin. “Baby, are you-”

“Do it,” she interrupted, wanting to feel this, feel them, for days afterwards. “Fuck me, Javi.”

Whether it was the order or the fact that she’d just called him “Javi” for the first time, he cursed again, low and filthy, and thrust forward in a hot, hard slide that had her clutching Frankie’s wide shoulders while she opened for him. A desperate sound pulled from her throat at the sensation of being filled at last. Javier didn’t stop until there was nowhere else for him to go, buried so deep that she could feel the brush of his pubic hair as his hips went flush with hers. Her back arched, pushing back against him and keeping the entire thick length of him locked in her body. She could hear him breathing, harsh, ragged sounds, the hands on her hips holding her in place as neither moved for several moments.

“Eyes on me,” Frankie coaxed, hands running up and down her arms. His face swam back into focus when she blinked down at him, looking up at her with his hair still a mess from when his head was buried between her legs. “Look at me, baby, look at me while he fucks you.”

They held her between them as Javier finally started to move, long, deep strokes that echoed right down to her bones. She was going to feel this alright, especially after she had Frankie too. He cupped her breasts, thumbed the hard points of her nipples, touched every part of her he could reach while Javier fucked her from behind. It was loud, drowning out the rain with the slap of skin on skin, the desperate sounds when she bent to kiss Frankie, her moans in his mouth and Javier’s own rough grunts mixed with the wet slide of his cock into her over and over again. All three of them moved in tandem, Frankie, the anchor, still bracing her with his arms while Javier chased his release, hands also roaming her body as he continued to thrust. A particularly hard one had her digging her nails into Frankie’s skin with a sharp gasp.

“Oh!”

“So gorgeous, watching you get fucked,” Frankie bit out. “My turn next, you’ll let me fuck you too, won’t you, sweetheart? You’ll let me slip right into that delicious pussy and make you come on my cock just like you did on my tongue.”

All she could get out was a desperate whine at the filthy words because, fuck, she wanted that too. So, so much.

“Say yes,” he urged. “Please, baby, say yes.”

She nodded her head, lips forming the word even though she couldn’t get enough breath to actually say it out loud. Yes, he could have her too. He could have anything he wanted.

“Not done with you yet,” Javier practically growled, bending over her back. One arm went around her waist and the other around her chest to pull her up, away from Frankie with her back pressed to Javier’s front. The movement wedged him even more firmly inside her, right against the sweet spot that had her nearly limp in his arms as her head lolled back against his shoulder. He lifted her so that her knees went clear off the cot, taking her entire weight and the sheer display of his strength was almost enough to send her hurtling over the edge again.

“Javi!”

His mouth pressed right by her ear, hips still thrusting up to bury himself deep inside over and over again. The hastily pushed-together cots swayed and squeaked madly with the motion, it was a wonder it hadn’t all collapsed already with the combined weight of the three of them. Even if it did, she still wouldn’t want to stop.

“Look at him,” Javier muttered, voice harsh, as harsh as the battering ram of his cock currently demanding her surrender. “Look at him, desperate to fuck you too. Got us both, didn’t you, you greedy little thing? Fuck, you feel so good riding my cock dulce niña, I fucking knew you would, fuck!”

The arm around her waist dipped lower and she felt his fingers slide down her stomach, over the rise of her mound to just above where they were joined so intimately. He quickly found her swollen clit, rubbing it with sure, swift strokes that had her arching against him with a cry. Javier’s strong thighs held hers apart, unable to do anything except shudder

in his arms and take everything he was giving her. Frankie watched them, his hips moving to the same rhythm as he openly fucked his fist to the sight. He must have been close because he suddenly yanked his hand away and twisted it in the airplane blanket instead, his chest heaving and his head tipping back with a grimace as he fought the urge to finish. He was holding off until it was his turn.

The thought sent another rush of heat between her legs and, coupled with the unrelenting press of Javier’s clever fingers, she clamped down hard on his thick cock as her orgasm washed over her in a wave of sheer bliss.

“FUCK!” Javier swore as he got caught in the riptide too, both arms wrapping around her tight and holding her in a vice grip against his broad chest as he fucked her through it almost savagely, making sure she would still feel him afterwards.His own groan of satisfaction was a deep rumble, his hips stuttering as he came with a throb and pulsed while she kept squeezing him tight and holding him deep inside. She reached back and threaded soothing fingers through his hair, damp with sweat, while his head dropped to her shoulder and his heart raced against her back. Javier’s arms loosened a fraction, his hands stroking up and down her own sweat-slicked skin to help calm them both as they came down.

Her eyes had closed of their own volition and when she opened them the only thing she could see was Frankie, looking nearly as wrecked as she felt. Jesu, he was still hard, still ready, he’d waited for her and she still wanted him too, just as much if not more. He sat up and she reached for him while Javier let her go, his softening cock slipping out with the motion. Frankie kissed her, needy and with the faint taste of herself still clinging to his lips.

“That was so hot, baby,” he said between kisses. So fucking hot.”

Behind her she felt Javier move away, giving them more room as Frankie eased her down onto the bed. He cupped the back of her head in one hand while the other was all over her, gliding over bare skin that was flushed a deep rose and extra sensitive to the touch now that she’d had not one, but two spectacular orgasms. It made her shiver despite the fact that she was anything but cold, shaking uncontrollably in his arms as he pulled her close to his chest and soothed her with his gentle touches and whispered words.

“Holy shit,” she managed to gasp, clutching desperately at his biceps as she tried to get her bearings back, feeling that same sensation that she’d experienced in the tiny plane after takeoff of being untethered to the Earth.

“Too much?” Frankie asked, peering at her with concern. “Is it too much? We can stop-”

She shook her head before he could even finish, leaning in to kiss him again. It was too much, but God, the last thing she wanted was to stop. The rain and the whiskey and the two handsome men orbiting around her like she was the sun had awakened a bone-deep craving that wasn’t fully satisfied and wouldn’t be, not until she’d had them both. Frankie was still erect, cock hard and flush with his stomach, and the noise he let out when she reached down and wrapped her hand around him was practically a growl.

“I want you,” she whispered against his plush mouth, feeling him shudder as she pressed a line of kisses along his jaw, grounding herself in the solid weight of his body and the heat from his skin.

Frankie’s dark eyes bored into hers, practically burning with lust. “You have me baby,” he promised, “you have me.”

He was thick and long, like Javier, velvet wrapped over steel in her hand. She gave a twist of her wrist on her next stroke, just under the head, and his face contorted in sheer, unguarded bliss before he pulled her hand away from his cock, kissing her palm in apology.

“Not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

Javier decided to remind them both that he was still in the room, letting out an amused huff. “Can’t keep up, flyboy?”

Frankie didn’t spare a glance in his direction. “I can keep my plane and my dick up, don’t you worry about that, Agent.”

That got a snort of derision in response, though a moment later a condom landed on the cot, almost hitting Frankie in the face in the process. A peace offering from Javier Peña, the night was full of surprises. Frankie put the foil packet in his mouth to hold it, giving her a cheeky wink while he stripped his pants the rest of the way off. Naked, he was just as mouth-watering as Javier, broad-shouldered, long legs, a waist that would fit perfectly between her legs and a cock that would fill and stretch every inch of her. Frankie grinned around the condom when he saw where she was looking and tore it open with his teeth.

“Ready?” he asked, quickly rolling it on. “Ready for me now, Carinō?”

The stupid code name sounded a lot better coming from him than the assholes at the DEA, it was an endearment again instead of a not so thinly veiled insult. She spread her legs in clear invitation, more than ready for him. Frankie settled himself on top of her, cock in hand and rubbing it up and down her still-slick entrance without pushing inside. Her breath hitched in anticipation, her soft inhale mixing with his sharp exhale when he eased himself in at last with slow and careful movements.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed, once he was seated all the way inside, “fuck, you feel so good.”

“Worth the wait?” she teased, wrapping her legs around his hips to hold him there so that she was deliciously full again. Gluttony was supposed to be a deadly sin, and here she was greedily enjoying her second lover of the night without a hint of guilt.

“Definitely worth the wait.”

Frankie leaned down to nuzzle his nose against hers, pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, and started to move in slow, deep rolls. Despite the wait and how close he’d been already, it was clear that he intended to take his time. A hand ran along the outside of her thigh and under her hip to lift and position her so he could slide in that final little bit and now there was no space left between them.

Frankie held himself there, buried so deep with his forehead resting on hers while she ran her hands up the broad expanse of his bare back.

When he started to move again she gripped his shoulders, holding on as he started to build her up again. It wasn’t as frantic as it had been with Javier but it was equally as good, Frankie grinding deep on each stroke before pulling back again and stealing more kisses, a benefit of being face-to-face. She buried her fingers in the damp curls at the nape of his neck with the weight of his body blanketing hers while he never stopped thrusting. It was a hot, heavy drag that made her toes curl and fanned the fire under her skin licking at every last inch, but none more than where she and Frankie were joined.

He nipped at the underside of her jaw and buried his face in her neck with a groan as he continued to fuck her and she saw Javier watching them from over Frankie’s shoulder, still naked, not having bothered to put his clothes back on yet. She could still feel the echo of him even with Frankie inside of her now, it somehow amplified the sensation and she arched up into it with a bitten-off moan while their gazes stayed locked on one another. When it had been Javier’s turn she’d been facing Frankie, looking at him as Javier thrust into her from behind, and now that it was the other way around she couldn’t look away, didn’t want to look away from the searing heat in that gaze as dark as midnight.

“You were right,” Javier said in a slow drawl that betrayed a hint of his Texas roots, looking at her but talking to Frankie, “she’s gorgeous when she’s getting fucked.”

Frankie didn’t answer him directly, he just pressed a kiss under her ear and whispered into it, “Let’s put on a show for him he won’t forget.”

He went up on his knees then, dragging her up his strong thighs so that she was spread wide with her legs draped over his elbows. On full display again for both men, her breasts bounced with each of Frankie’s powerful thrusts, so deep that it took what was left of her breath away. It wasn’t much. She could hardly make any noise now, holding on to the blanket for dear life while Frankie let out rough groans with each stroke. The angle was the exact opposite from the one Javier had fucked her at and yet both of them hitting that perfect spot.

“One more,” Frankie bit out, clearly hanging on by a thread. “Give us one more, baby, please. Squeeze me.”

His thumb found her clit as he stilled long enough to rub it, swollen and hot and only needing the barest touch before she was there, squeezing him tight as she came again. Frankie cried out as she practically strangled his cock, helpless to stop herself, not that she wanted to when it made him sound like that. He held her steady throughout with only the barest tremble in the hands gripping her hips, holding out as long as he could before he fucked back into her still quivering depths as he frantically chased his own release. He came a handful of thrusts later with a shout, his whole body shaking, tipping forward and catching himself on his arms at the last moment so he wouldn’t crush her before resting his head on her breasts with a sigh. They lay like that, his long legs tangled with hers on the cot, sweaty and sated and a part of her wondered how she’d ever go back to not having this.

Was it still considered a one night stand when there were two men?

A hand brushed her tangled hair back from her brow and it wasn’t Frankie’s. Her eyes had drifted shut and she opened them to see Javier, looking down with a faint smile. A rare thing, from him. He leaned down and pressed his lips gently to her forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back.

“That was-“ Frankie mumbled, face still pressed to her chest and muffling his words, “-damn.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, running her fingers through Frankie’s hair while looking up at Javier, wondering if he felt the same. His lips quirked up again at the unspoken question and he nodded.

“Very eloquent, Morales,” was what he actually said, dry as a desert.

Frankie lifted a hand enough to give him the finger before curling it possessively under her side and she shook with silent laughter.

Men.

***********

She hovered on the edge of sleep, never quite falling over it. Even the unexpected bout of marathon sex with not one, but two men, wasn’t enough to fully knock her out. Another parting gift from undercover work, it was difficult to fall asleep.

You were the most vulnerable when you slept.

Frankie and Javier must have thought she’d drifted off, she could hear them talking to each other in low, careful voices, clearly trying to keep it down so as not to wake her up.

“I don’t know how it works in the DEA, but I’m guessing it’s not too different from the military and if this gets out every other jackass in the agency is going to think she’s fair game. They’ll have a much worse nickname for her than Cariño, tell me I’m wrong, Peña.”

Javier answered him in a clipped tone. “You’re not.”

“So you’re going to keep your mouth shut then.”

“What, you think I was going to go back to the office tomorrow and brag to everyone about it? Just how big of an asshole do you think I am, Morales?”

There was a long, pointed moment of silence and she could picture the looks they were undoubtedly giving each other, Javier with that heavy scowl that he wore more often than those ridiculously tight jeans and Frankie with his arms crossed over his chest, glowering under his baseball cap.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Frankie finally said.

“I’m not-“ Javier started, his voice rising in annoyance. Frankie shushed him and he shut up, then she heard the unmistakable sound of a lighter sparking to life and imagined Javier was smothering the urge to argue with a cigarette.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone,” he stage-whispered. “There, satisfied? Want me to pinky swear? Cross my heart and hope to die?”

Maybe the urge wasn’t smothered out completely.

Frankie didn’t take the bait. “Just as long as we’re on the same page.”

“We are.”

There was silence again for a while after that, but at least the animosity in the air seemed to have faded somewhat.

It was Javier who spoke again next, without any vitriol or sarcasm, just matter of fact as he quietly said, “The rain stopped hours ago.”

Did it? She couldn’t remember exactly when it had stopped pounding against the roof, was it while Frankie had his head between her legs or when Javier was sliding into her from behind?

“Yeah, I know. But the ground needed to dry out enough to get the speed necessary for takeoff, unless you wanted to crash into a tree.”

Javier didn’t argue with Frankie this time. “It’s your call. You’re the pilot, Captain.”

“Glad we finally agree on that, Agent. I’ll go check, we may be good to go now. Back to civilization.”

There was the rustle of movement, the sound of footsteps, and when Frankie’s voice came again it was from further away.

“Oh, and Peña? Just so you know I’m giving her my number when we land.”

“You can do whatever you want, Morales. I’m not going to try to stop you.”

She noticed that he didn’t say the same. Javier Peña wasn’t the type to turn a one night stand into anything more.

It was quiet again as Frankie presumably went outside to see if they could finally leave the little safe house that now held another secret within the ramshackle walls. But would it stay a secret? Frankie was right, if this got out at the DEA then the years of work she’d put in wouldn’t matter, she’d forever be the agent who’d let two men fuck her on an op. The whispers that already followed her around would turn into something far uglier and she’d go from sweetheart to slut in a heartbeat. It should concern her, Javier choosing her for the raid had already raised a few eyebrows and set tongues wagging among the “insecure dicks”, as Frankie would say. But despite Javier’s reputation at the office for sleeping with anything in a skirt, she believed him when he said he wasn’t going to spread it around. It might be foolish and naive of her, both traits that never lasted long in undercover work and she would have said she’d lost forever.

Maybe she wasn’t that far gone, yet.

If they were going to leave soon then she should get up, find her boots, try to turn her bedhead back into something respectable and figure out what the hell to say to the two men with whom she’d just spent the night.

She did none of those things.

Javier muttered something under his breath, too low for her to make out. Probably something rude about Frankie. She sensed more than heard him come closer, and a moment later the blanket that had fallen to her waist was pulled back up into place.

She smiled unseen against her makeshift pillow—Frankie’s discarded tactical vest—at the gesture. You couldn’t do this job and not be a dick, or a bitch, if you were a woman, but it wasn’t all you had to be.

Even for Javier Peña.

[hyperfixat]

food for Gabriel Fans! funny little thing that i can’t think what else to add atm…

Alt Gabriel saves you from silly alternate!

“Shit, wrong house.” The alternate now takes up pacing in a nervous fashion across your room, hands wringing at the shadow on top of its head. “Master will be so…” a whimper.

The room’s temperature drops, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall as in the center of your bedroom a figure is slowly flickering into existence.

He — it? — is completely monotone, from the disturbingly long fingers that curl into claws, to the clothes on his tall, tall frame.

The pitch humanoid backs into the corner with you, and you’re half certain it’s about to use you as a human shield for whatever is manifesting itself in your room. It’s presence is cold next to yours and you freeze as ghostly arms wrap around your fetal form.

A frenzied mixture of voices flee the alternate, making your ears ring.

Kids shouting in joy, a woman’s scream, a deep, rumbling voice underlying it all.

You cannot move, absolutely paralyzed from fear and the alternate tucks itself into you, the same one who told you to kill yourself less than five minutes ago.

The man, being, deity, whatever he is, takes full form. With an experimental roll of his shoulders, he grins.

His face is horrid, long and ghastly, eyes and mouth stretched too long to fit properly. His teeth, large sharp daggers, reminiscent of a shark’s gleam in the dim lighting. His eyes, black and a glowing white, seem to bore into you, taking in every little bit of you.

The alternate’s mangle of noise cuts off abruptly as the tall thing approaches the two of you. He crouches, a large hand coming to wrap around the head of the alternate. His grin never leaves as he tugs them away from you.

The alternate dangles in his hand uselessly, and the large one’s attention focuses on the alternate.

An ear ache inducing static hum fills the room and under the loud white noise you can tell words are being said. However they’re much too low and quick for you to pick up on.

You turn your face away and pray to whatever deity will answer for guidance out of this situation.

“So, terribly sorry about that, little dear.” The tall one is coming closer. You squeeze your eyes shut tight. He feels so close, you could touch him if you reached out an inch. “No need to be afraid, hmm? You’re safe now.”

“No, no, please leave.” It’s whispered and hardly spoken at all, but with the creepy man so close he can hear you.

“None of that, now. The good angel Gabriel has saved you. Can’t you please look at me?”

This is not an angel, you can feel it in every fiber of your being. This is a liar. You’d less afraid if a flaming ball of wings and eyes were in the room with you now, you’re certain.

They’re gray, white, and black, not a spec of any color on their skin or clothes. His eyes are large and the pupil stretches horridly to fill the spaces. His lips open in a smile that you think is trying to convey kindness.

You shiver.

“That’s right, little one. You’re safe with Gabriel…” His arms open, like he expects you to crawl into them from your spot in the corner.

A whine involuntarily escapes you as you realize that you’re caged in completely by something strong enough to banish an alternate.

Oh God, Oh Fuck. This thing killed the alternate. What the fuck. What.

Your breaths come in rapid bursts and Gabriel (apparently, if you are safe to assume he was talking in the third person…) frowns. His eyes (your stomach rolls) start to shrink. It’s gross, the process, but they turn into the size a human would have.

“Oh, I’m sorry for frightening you. I forget my form strikes fear in humans.” His slender hand reaches out to cup over your hair and rest at the base of your skull. “You need not be afraid, it’s alright, my dear. I’m not going to harm you. Quite the opposite in fact.

“One of my disciples made a terrible mistake tonight. I must make up for her wrongdoings, dear. I can’t have my image tainted by hurting someone not meant for harm. Come into my arms, I will care for you.”

You don’t have much choice, do you? Death is an option, always is, but he seems oddly apologetic, so maybe that plan can go on the back burner for now?

You close the small gap and press yourself awkwardly into his middle. A chuckle leaves him and his arms fall around you.

“Good job, little dear.”

Gabriel holds you tight for a long time.

“Would you like me to run you a bath, or maybe brew some tea? I’m sure this evening has been very stressful.”

And you let him, let his tender touches take you and ground you and shelter you. You let him talk and hold you until dawn, let his words of reassurance rest in your subconscious.

Gabriel is there when you stir from your slumber, seated on the recliner in your room. He’s flipping through one of the books you have lying around.

“Hm? Are you awake, dear?”

A part of you thinks this is a dream, another part of you hopes this is a dream, but you know you’re awake. Your knees and muscles ache from hiding through the night, and pain means reality.

You blink, a dumb, slow movement. Gabriel is real. Wowzers.

“Yes.” How should one act with the obviously insanely strong, not-angel, not-human, kind person(?) that talks to them with sweet, honey laced words and banished an alternate in front of them.

The previous hours spent with him are mush in your memory. You know it had been nice, caring in a way you crave.

It seems neither of you know what to say, so after a quiet minute, you proceed through your day as normal.

[quicktosimp]

Make Me

Kinktober Day 11

Lo'ak/Human!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Aged Up Characters, Restraints, Electrostimulation, Alien Genitalia, Bratt!Lo'ak, Dom!Reader, Size Differance, Mommy Kink, Safe Sane Consensual

Thank you @pandoraslxna for putting this together for all of us 💕

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Lo’ak is the love of my life. He is the one who I will run to in my time of need. He is so sweet and kind, always the first person to lift me up when my mood is low, to make me laugh and smile. But damn, do I want to wring his neck some days! 

Jake has been a bitch to Lo’ak and Neteyam lately, more so than usual. It’s been making Lo’ak and Neteyam moody recently. Neteyam’s mate has been ‘helping’ with his moods, keeping the clan up all night during the process, both facing the clan with massive smiles and a limp the following morning. 

Lo’ak and I have a slightly different game we play. Some days, Lo’ak takes charge, having complete control over me. Leaving me aching pleasurably the next day. Other times, we play a game of cat and mouse. Lo’ak teasing me until I can’t bear it anymore, leaving me to take control of him and his body until he can’t even think of disobeying me. But he doesn’t make it easy. I’m five foot, and trying to make your nine-foot boyfriend do something he doesn’t want to is nearly impossible. But that’s where the fun comes in. 

You see, Lo’ak won't go down easy. He wants to be ‘forced’, the complete lack of control over anything besides his mouth. Getting that part of him to listen is something only Eywa can do. 

I climbed high into a tree and got myself ‘stuck’. Now, I lay in wait for my handsome muntxatan to save me. 

“Syulang! Where are you?” Speak of the devil, and he will appear. 

“I’m up here, Lo’ak!” I shout to him

Lo’ak’s tall frame comes into view, his head swiveling. Finally, his eyes land on me bewildered, “Syulang, what are you doing up there?” Questioning my sanity.

“I may have gotten stuck?” I lie sweetly, batting my eyelashes.

A laugh erupts from Lo’ak, “You’re such a skxawng. You are always getting yourself into trouble, leaving your big strong mate to save you. My precious skxawng.” 

“Come on, Lo’ak, please! Help me down!” I pout at him.

His body moves slowly, arrogance etched into his movements, “I don't know, baby girl. I think you can ask me better than that,” A smirk stretches over his handsome face.

“Come on Lo’ak, please help me down?” I ask again, whining a little.

“Hey there, don’t be a whiny girl; be my good girl and ask me nicely.” Lo’ak’s arms open wide, “I’m here to help you.” 

I slowly crawl out on the branch, “Please, Lo’ak, please get me down. I’ve been stuck up here for a while.” I beg, “I really need to pee.” 

“Alright, Syulang, I got you.” Chuckling, he reaches his arms up to me.

Seeing my moment, I latch the first cuff to his hand, swing over the branch, and quickly cuff the other. Lo’ak stands on his tiptoes, arms raised, hanging from the branch. I climb down from the tree easily, staring at Lo’ak, pleased at my work. 

“Babe, this is ridiculous. Let me go.” He demands., struggling against the binds.

“No, can do baby. You’ve been in a mood recently; now it’s time for me to deal with it.” I reply, running my hand up his torso.

“Who fucking cares if I’m in a mood? Let me down now before I make your punishment worse.”Lo’ak growled.

I smack his inner thigh, “Don’t you cuss at me! I have had enough of your attitude, and now I will correct it.”

Lo’ak kicked out the leg I smacked, “Fuck you!” He snarled.

Sighing, I grab another rope and an object that I had hidden before, “I was hoping you'd be a good boy and take your punishment, but apparently, that's too much to ask for.” I loop the rope around his ankle before securing it to the tree, bending the knee, and stretching his leg back. Barely even giving him a move to wiggle.

“Stop being a bitch! Let me go!” Lo’ak yells.

I stop before him and show the object I had hidden from view, “Do you remember this, Lo’ak? This was your best friend the last time you started acting out.” 

Lo’ak stops wiggling, his throat bobbing as he sees what's in my hand, ��That is nothing.” His bravo fading.

I laugh at his reaction, “Oh baby, you know the drill. Every time you talk back to me, you’ll get a gift from your friend,” trailing the tip from his ankle and playing around his calf. 

“Like I give a shi-” Lo’ak’s voice gives out from the shock.

The cattle prod has always been an excellent tool for dealing with Lo’ak’s moods.

“Now, back to before, you’ve been quite the bratt lately. You were stomping through the village, snapping at the songmakers, telling off the weavers, and even with me!” I pause, walking to his back, “You’ve been short with me. Not answering my questions! You even slept on the other side of our kelku! Frankly, I am done with your attitude.” 

“Maybe if you weren't a bitch, that wouldn’t be a problem,”

Snap! I hit his ribs.

“Fuck you!”

Snap! Along his shoulder.

“Bitch!”

Snap! On his ass check.

Lo’ak moans as he lifts his free leg, curling toward his ass.

“No, baby, put your leg back down. We’re not done here.” I grab his leg and put it back down. 

Breathlessly, Lo’ak responds, “Ye-yes, we are. You’ve had you’re fun. Now let me go.”

A groan escapes my lips, “You really aren't understanding, are you?” I return to his front, trailing the cattle prod around his stomach, tracing random patterns into his skin, “You have been a brat,” 

Snap! Over his navel.

“You are the one being punished here, and you keep making it worse.”

Lo’ak groans, “I’m not being a brat!”

Snap! The mark left on his hip is beautiful. 

“Please! Stop! I’ll be good!” He begs.

“You’re gonna be good for me? Gonna take your punishment like a good boy?” I croon. 

Lo’ak paused momentarily, “But, but, you already punished me. You kept shocking me. I already had my punishment.” He stuttered.

“Awww, baby. Did you think being nice would get you out of your punishment? After all those names you called me? No, you still need your punishment.” I cackle at his attempt at manipulating me.

Then my face is wet. A small wet pack on my cheek. I look up at Lo’ak, and I see a smirk under his snarl. 

“Did you just fucking spit on me?” I deadpan.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” His drool slipped down his lips.

Wiping the saliva off my cheek, I walk over to the tree and climb it, moving over so I’m hanging over Lo’ak. He looks at me, confusion bleeding through his cocky look. I grab the top of his kuru, starting at the top of his skull, and pull, “You’re gonna regret that, bitch.”

Lo’ak started whining and blubbering useless threats. So I wrapped his kuru around and placed the thick of it in his mouth before tucking the rest into his necklace. 

“Now that should keep your mouth out of trouble,” I smile at his plight, gagged by his own kuru. 

“Ich! uck u!” He garbbled out, unable to use his tongue or lips. 

“Sorry, what was that baby? I can’t understand you. It sounds like your mouth is full,” I tease, my face breaking out into a smirk. 

Lo’ak growls and hisses through his gagged mouth, drool leaking from his open lips. Dripping down his neck and over his chest, leaving multiple trails, one trailing down and over his left nipple, another trailing over into his opened slit. 

“Look at that baby,” taking my hand and rubbing at his slit, “You’re already so open for me. You’re gagging for it, aren't you” laughing at my own pun.

I can’t tell if Lo’ak’s groan is from the pleasure of his slit being touched or my pun. Either way, I am happy with the result.  

“See, isn’t this so much better? Me playing with your slit, waiting for your cock to come out and play.” Dipping a finger into his slit, avoiding his dick. 

“Mmm,” Lo’ak moans contently. 

“I bet you do like that baby,” I use a finger from my other hand and pull his slit open. 

“Ese!” Lo’ak begs.

“Please? You want more? Such good manners, baby, I’ll give you some more.” Purposefully misinterpreting his words.

I slide another finger from each hand inside, and I can see his cock drop down, his walls no longer holding it inside; as I open it wider, it slips out and hangs in the open. A pretty little muffled scream escapes his mouth. Probably from his cock being exposed so quickly to the cold air. 

“Look, baby, you just fell right out! I didn’t even have to take it out. You must like this so much!” I gleefully examine. 

Lo’ak writhes in his bonds, trying to turn this way and that, but all it does is stretch his slit more. Lo’ak’s whines fill my ears, a beautiful melody sung for me. Tears started trailing down his face.

“My poor baby, crying just from opening his slit like a slut, dick hard, and your spines are looking for anything, aren’t they? I love it when you look like a whore for me.” I mock.

I take my fingers out, leaving his slit gaping, cock hanging in the open, “You make such a pretty picture, baby. I should take a picture.” 

“Mmmommmy, ese!” Lo’ak cries, finally giving in.

“That’s my good boy. Calling out for mommy.” I smile, picking up the cattle prod again. “Now you’re going to take your punishment like a good boy. Then you can get your reward.” 

Lo’ak nods eagerly, “Originally, I was gonna go easy on you, but then you just had to go and call me all those awful names. You kicked me and even spat on me! You only have yourself to blame for how this will go now.” 

I hear his pathetic attempts to apologize and choose to ignore them.

I slide the cattle prod into the junction where his thigh and groin meet.

“Oooooooo!” He begs sobs, shaking his body. 

Snap!

Lo’ak flinches the best he can in his binds.

“Good boy, that’s one, five more to go.”

Lo’ak’s tears increase, flowing down his face, as sobs wreck through his chest, rattling his whole body. I slide the cattle prod over to the other junction, but Lo’ak squeezes the leg shut the best he can. 

A growl emits from me. “Lo’ak, if you don’t open your leg for me right now, I’m adding more!” 

His leg slides open again, “Oooorrryy!”

Snap!

A squeal erupts erupts from him.

“That’s two, baby, three more to go.”

I step back to see the pretty picture Lo’ak makes, and I see Lo’ak’s cock twitching, precum dripping into a puddle between his legs. No matter how much he begs for it to end, that’s not what he really wants. But I really want to hear him. So, as much of an ordeal as it is, I climb and free his kuru from his mouth.

“Mo-momm-mommy, p-p-ple-ese!” Globs of drool leaves his mouth.

“Oh baby, mommy’s here, mommy’s gonna take care of you. My baby boy.” I soothe, “Last three now, baby, then mommy will make you cum.”

“Pl-please, Mommy, I’ll be good! No m-m-o-more!” Lo’ak pleads.

I sign disappointedly, “You know better, baby, now unless you want to add more, what do you say?”

Lo’ak’s breath hitches as he speaks, “Th-thank you, Mo-mommy, f-for tak-taking care of m-m-me.”

“And?” 

Lo’ak’s ears are pinned back, and his voice is barely above a whisper. “Th-th-thank you for pu-punish-punishing me.” Emmbarisment is shown in his every feature.

I let a soft smile take over, “Good boy.”

Snap! Right in his left nipple, the one covered in drool.

“MOMMY!” Lo’ak screams.

“That's three, two more to go,” I count down.

Snap! I hit the other nipple, leaving both of them swollen.

“Mommy! Please! Mommy!” 

“That’s four, baby, one more to go.” I soothe, rubbing his flank, “Are you ready for the last one?” 

“Mommy, please, wanna be good,” Lo’ak’s hips humping the air.

“My good boy.”

I slowly drag the cattle prod down his chest, past his stomach, and down past his cock; to the underside of his slit, sliding the smallest part in. Lo’ak’s eyes widened in panic, and he attempted to thrash.

“NO! MOMMY! PLEASE! NO! NOT THERE!”

I hold still, ensuring the cattle prod never moves from its target. Eventually, Lo’ak stills, accepting his fate. 

Snap!

Lo’ak’s eye rolled to the back of his head, mouth agape in a silent scream, as he came. A flood of cum poured out of him. His spines flexed, trying to figure out where to go, unable to understand how it was cumming without being inside. 

“Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy,” Lo’ak chants my name like a prayer. 

I ease the cattle prod out of him, “There you go, baby. All done now. You did such a good job.” I rub his stomach calmly, giving as much comfort as I can. I untie his leg, needing him to calm down, before letting him down. 

“My baby, do you feel better? Are you ready to get down?” I ask.

Lo’ak nods, “Yes, please, Mommy, wanna cuddle.”

“Okay, baby, mommy will get you down.” I quickly let him down and bring his head to my chest, Lo’ak lying over me. 

I play with his hair, murmuring sweet nothings until he calms, and then we lay there in silence, basking in each other's presence.

“Thank you, tìyawn,” Lo’ak mumbles, his voice broken.

“Anytime, baby. You know I love helping you with all your needs.” I respond, kissing his head.

“I know you do, and I will always return the favor,” Lo’ak whispers, “My life is yours,” he kisses my chest right over my heart. 

“And mine is yours.” Kissing each of his five fingers. 

We lay in silence for a while.

“Hey, babe?” Lo’ak asks.

“Hmm?”

“How many times do you think you could get pregnant with all that cum on the ground?”

Update: a visual description of the genitalia here