#commissioned fic

[corruptedroses]

— Corruption

Fandom —  Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach Pairing — Glamrock Bonnie/Glamrock Freddy Summary — Damian doesn't let the things he loves go so easily. When Eliseo runs away when he's locked up for something he didn't do, all he can think is how to get him back. Content Warnings — stalking, toxic relationships, mafia au, characters use new names, pre-established world and relationships, Eliseo (Freddy) is a stripper, reuniting, mutual masturbation, blow jobs, handjobs, porn with plot (lots of plot), bit of pain kink Word Count — 10,978 words Author's Note — Commissioned piece, Alternate names are used in this version and are as followed: Damian (Glam Bon), Eliseo (Glam Fred), Christine (Glam Chica), Fergus (Funtime Freddy), Felix (Funtime Foxy)

Love is like a drug, and when you are forced to go cold turkey it hurts the most. Damian knew this more than anyone from the sting Damian knew this more than anyone since his heart had been left stinging and empty after the third mail day in prison.

It started slowly, he denied it; Eliseo probably was busy with something else, maybe he was trying to track down who had framed him… but then he didn’t visit. He was patient, and understanding, he waited in his cell, waited in the visitation room, hanging by that phone in hopes that those familiar blue eyes and caramel curls would walk in. Eliseo never came. The nagging feeling turned full bloom as the weeks went by, eating him away more and more.

The weeks blurred, and Damien found himself staring at those same four walls over and over again, waiting for that call. He bottled it down, and kept it deep inside his chest; he kept doing what he needed to do while wearing those orange jumpsuits, having his men work on getting him out. He knew he was an innocent man — he never dealt in drugs anyway — so the day he was finally released after being cleared of his name… the nightmare had only just begun.

To find a home that was devoid of the one you held close crushed you inside, a storm that brewed in the heat of summer as you found yourself on your knees. Damian’s heart had crushed and shattered, spread across the ground when there was nothing. It had been a blur when he had thrown open every door, called out all the names he knew in his heart, and searched for any sign that he wasn’t dreaming.

This was a nightmare to him, one that squeezed his lungs so tightly. Where was he, where was his lover? Eliseo’s name had fallen from his lips so many times, so many places he searched, but the smell of lavender had faded, replaced by stale, lonely air. Dust caked on surfaces, on furniture that hadn’t been used, it collected like a veil on the nightmare in his heart. He had to be somewhere, he had to be anywhere — his footsteps had stopped in the bedroom, the setting sun’s rays catching on a familiar sheen of golden metal.

There the cuff links that had promised Eliseo sat, in their velvet box, as pristine as the day he had gifted them. ‘I’m sorry’.

Eliseo was gone.

Their city was big, but not big enough. It was months later that Damian found Eliseo once more on the outskirts of the city, knowing the man couldn’t have gotten far — Eliseo had always said he never planned to leave the city given he didn’t know where else he would go, so finding him one day, as he drove around, had thrilled him like no other had before. He was still perfect, with his soft curly hair and his adorable blue eyes, Eliseo was like an angel that had descended to Earth in human form.

Seeing him surrounded by flowers only seemed to enhance that unearthly glow. Roses, peonies, daffodils, it was like looking at the perfect photograph.

A few sat in his glove box that had been taken in the weeks since that day, covered in what should be on Eliseo, yet his fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he parked across the street, watching his lover’s every move. He didn’t want to scare him more than what he should at that moment, he didn’t want to dare dream of causing his beloved distress, yet he couldn’t help himself. That shop didn’t see as much business as it would in the inner parts of the city, it didn’t provide income on some days, he felt the need to write a cheque and slipped it into the mailbox in the dead of night, the next day he had watched as Eliseo had pulled it out.

Yet he didn’t do anything with it.

He watched day in, day out, that Eliseo would have the same little beat-up car, and use the same sneakers that he noted seemed to be developing holes in their sides between the tape and staples he used to keep them from falling apart — it was like the man was ripping up the cheques and refusing to use them. ‘He’s always been like this,’ he thought to himself, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel, ‘he doesn’t usually spend much on himself.’ Frugal in spending, he remembered the many, many times that he had to force Eliseo to spend on himself, to spend a single cent that came from his card; the man hated to spend, especially other’s money, so it was obvious that he hadn’t changed from that.

Yet the memories only seemed to haunt him.

“I can’t spend this.” Eliseo’s eyes were wide when he peered into the envelope; it had been one month since Damian had finally convinced him to start dating, and it had been two since Damian had confessed his feelings to the man that he had been bottling up for years. It was only right that he wanted to give the man something to spend, something to use, but yet as the envelope was shoved back into his own hands, Damian’s brow quirked.

“How so?” Damian’s voice rippled through the office like a soft rain as he attempted to push back the envelope into Eliseo’s hands, but yet the man didn’t seem like he wanted to budge, only trying harder to keep the envelope in Damian’s hands. “I’m giving you this.”

“It’s not my money.”

“And I’m giving it to you. It makes it your money.” Damian finally forced the envelope full of banknotes finally back into Eliseo’s hands, tucking his own into the armpits of his suit as he stepped away, the brunette seeming confused on what to do with such a big stack of cash; flash it to your allies and they’re drooling, flash it to a random woman and she’ll drop her panties for you, flash it to Eliseo and the man looked like he had seen a ghost. The way his fingers ghosted over the bills, counting each in his mind, “Is five thousand too little?” Damian questioned as he watched his lover’s eyes widen.

“It’s way too much!”

“Fine…” Taking the envelope and pocketing half the bills, Damian shoved the money back into Eliseo’s hands, pocketing the rest. “Two thousand five hundred. Spend it all by the end of this week and show it to me.”

“We should’ve been married by now…” Damian muttered under his breath as he watched Eliseo, like clockwork, come from the store to water the flowers that sat outside. The apron he was wearing was ratty, worn, he could see the strings that kept it around his neck fraying and falling apart — he needed a new one, one that would match his eyes, maybe one that had a pocket on the front. He could get him a designer one, one that matched his store and—.

“Haven’t you thought about just talking to him?” Oh, Christine was in the car, he had forgotten. The white-haired woman sat in the back seat, the smell of nail polish emanating through the air as she did her nails on the leather seats of the car. She was practically his right-hand man and Eliseo’s former-best friend so, when she had heard that he had found Eliseo, it had been a nightmare to try and tell her no. Hearing as she clicked her teeth and fumbled with something in her beauty bag, Eliseo would spot Christine a mile away if he hadn’t enabled the child locks in the back. “Eliseo probably still loves you.”

Keyword: probably.

“I don’t get why you’re here…” Damian muttered, finally turning his head to stare at the woman as she prepared an aerosol can, Damian quickly snatched it away before she could even attempt it. “No hair spray.”

“You’re no fun.” Violet eyes stared at him before Christine muttered something in a tongue he couldn’t understand. The woman settled into her seat with her overly bright clothing and even louder attitude rolling off of her in waves while Damian tossed the hair spray into his passenger seat. “Being like a stalker every day isn’t helping you get any closer to him.” He knew that too, yet his thoughts were interrupted as two shoes were shoved in his face.

“Pink or green?” Both were as hideous as the other, but as he pointed to the pink one, Christine hummed and the shoes to disappear into the back seat again. “As I was saying,” she continued while Damian watched her throw the shoes on through the rear-view mirror, “you two were pinning after each other a long time — way longer than what when me and the others were around for.”

The sign flipped to closed, Damian started up the car and he fastened his seat belt then began to drive off, “it’s more complicated than that, Christine.” Damian said, making sure that Eliseo didn’t see them drive off as he headed through the streets, “either way, have you learned anything from the club?”

“Oh, yes, that’s why I’m here.” Sliding into the front seat and fastening her seat belt, Christine looked the part of the role she was about to play, skimpy leotard and all, her makeup done to whatever perfection was needed. The club they were going to didn’t just hire any dancer, they needed the best, and with Christine’s face done up and her body on display, they had accepted her and kept her. She had been careful to not cross paths with Eliseo when possible,even going as far as popping in some (dark) contacts to cover the striking colour of her eyes, which Damian could do nothing but tap on the wheel and wait for. “Eliseo has been giving the money out to everyone else in the club.”

“And you left it in his hole?”

“Yep, still did it anyway.” He could already feel the migraine coming on from this information, throwing on the brakes suddenly as he realised he was approaching a red light. “Christ! Watch out would you?”

“You should pay attention.” The words were directed more to himself than Christine. He kept driving and soon the sun dimmed over the horizon, bringing the flashing neon signs and lights of the club into view. They acted as a beacon of limited delight, a flashing sign that directed occupants to forget their loneliness and sorrows and funnel into its doors.

How sour had it been when he first discovered that this was the place his beloved spent his nights, dancing away for men who didn’t know how to appreciate Eliseo the way he did. Even if Christine reassured him that Eliseo didn’t allow anyone to touch him or get close enough to cop a feel , it didn’t ease the nerves that entangled themselves around his heart. Leering eyes, wanting hands, he could only imagine Eliseo in a tight string that barely concealed nothing, dancing around a pole and entertaining the wandering eyes. He had seen Christine perform when they first met, but never before had he imagined that Eliseo would be in the same position.

What hadn’t he given Eliseo? Did he want more power in the relationship or did he want something else? He racked his brain for hours upon hours at night as he would try and figure out what his beloved wanted and craved. What had caused him to leave the world of comfort and luxury to let men that he didn’t know ogle him? Looking at Christine who did her lipstick in the mirror, he thought about the reasons she had been in the business; power, attention, comfort, it was all those things that she had craved and more and she still didn’t stop, not even when she became his right-hand man.

“Was I ever bad to Eliseo?” Damian muttered as he finally pulled into the parking lot, cutting the engine as he sat in his seat. The confused noise that came from the woman beside him was enough to make him fully turn his head, seeing the way her eyes looked at him as she paused mid-stroke, “did he ever tell you that I was doing something wrong?”

Christine only shook her head as she began to step out of the car, swiping the velvet box that was in the middle of the seats and placing it into her handbag, “you’ll have to find out yourself. Talk to him, tonight, or I’ll drag you to him myself.” Leaving him to stew in his thoughts, Damian watched as Christine crossed the parking lot to the front doors, and was let in with a nod and a smile. That woman loved to tease and taunt, and drag people to where she wanted them to go

As he pulled the keys out of the ignition and stepped out into the dimming sun, he sucked in his lips.

Damian had to finish this game of cat and mouse; Eliseo had been running for far too long, far too far, he needed to know that he was still wanted by him — so why didn’t he want to move? Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, he leaned against the roof of his car, staring at the club’s doors. Beyond those doors, already in a room that was filling up with men and women, Eliseo would be there soon. In there, he could corner him and take him back, make him come home.

It should be as easy as negotiating a deal with someone, yet his legs felt like jello. Was it the fact that he had been dreaming of this moment for so long that his legs didn’t want to work with him, or was it the fact that he didn’t know if this would be the same boy he knew? “Fuck.” Running a hand through his curly hair, Damian cursed multiple times under his breath. Eliseo was like air, so beautiful and essential for survival, he wanted to breathe it in, he wanted to embrace him, but what if he was like smog and would harm him from the inside?

No, he had to snap out of it, he couldn’t let his worries and fears take hold of him before he even had a chance to go inside. Christine had one goal and one goal only tonight; get those cuff links to Eliseo, if he wasn’t in there then the entire plan could fall apart. With one last check in the side mirror of his car to make sure his hair was perfectly in place, Damian allowed his feet to carry him across that car park. Each step was long, calculated, and hurried, yet his heart felt like it wanted to secure itself to the ground with how heavy it felt in his chest.

Damian had seen the horrors of gun battles and survived numerous gang fights, yet the mere thought of seeing Eliseo again after all of these years? It felt like something else entirely. He had said to the other man before that he would allow himself to take a bullet before he would even think about having to hold a gun. The building seemed so much bigger now that he stood at the door.

“Identification.” The bouncer demanded, Damian, snapped out of his thoughts long enough to grab his ID from his wallet, and handed the piece of plastic to the other man, watching as he tilted down his sunglasses before looking between him and the picture. “Birthday?”

Oh, he forgot that he looked different from the man in the photo. Coughing into his fist, Damian said his birthday without needing to look at the card, the bouncer moved to the side as he allowed Damian into the building.

“Men are on the right side of the stage, women on the left.”

He knew that already based on what Christine had told him, but yet he nodded his head in acknowledgement all the same, allowing himself to slip inside the smog of carnal desire and want that thinly veiled the depression that seeped deep within the rug. It was a standard entry hall, with a carpet that had seen better days and walls that had seen much too much smoke, but yet all the same it was… quite dull. Compared to the glitz and glam he was used to due to the Aftons hold on the underbelly, this was certainly a downgrade. He dodged the eyes of the women and men that dressed themselves in what he assumed to be staff uniforms, entering out into the main room with little noise.

The stench had become stronger, choking his nostrils and lungs as he surveyed the rooms. Decent space to move about, and doors were easily accessible, the soft pink of the overhead lights barely could disguise the blood that stained the carpet. Damian scowled as he avoided what seemed to be a fresh puddle, watching as staff worked quickly to try and clean it up. This was the place that Eliseo had found himself working at. Damian could hear the poor crackle of the speakers and see chairs that had been poorly taped back together — this place was a blunder, a disgrace to the district it sat on.

No wonder Christine had called it the crack house of whore houses, it certainly deserved the name.

“First time?” Of course, the one person you never wanted to be anywhere near had to be here. The white-haired Funtime grinned up at him with those blue eyes and Damian had to resist pulling his gun out on him right there and then. “Neutral zone, can’t do shit here unless you want to be pinned by the balls to the wall, Glam.”

Fuck, he was right. Relaxing the hand that hovered near his gun, Damian allowed his jaw to tighten as Fergus pulled out the chair next to him. “I’m not planning to be here for long.”

“Your boy toy ain’t even here yet, sit, I’ll buy you a drink if you do.” Letting his eyes wander for a bit around the room, not spotting any other familiar heads of white, purple or pink, Damian slowly slid into the chair, making sure that it was as far as possible between himself and the bastard that made torture a hobby.

“I’m assuming you want to talk to me?”

“Nah,” Fergus laughed, flagging down a waitress as he wheezed out of his ugly mug, “just want to see you be uncomfortable up close — two scotches, one with extra ice.” Turning his face away to ogle at the waitress’s breasts, it gave Damian some time to compose himself, slipping a knife that sat on the table down his sleeve.

You could never let yourself be too comfortable around a Funtime. Getting one’s attention was bad enough, but, being close enough to one where you could smell the horrid stench that rolled off of them from their rotten personalities? You may as well pay the devil for a dinner date.

“Now,” Without the appeal of mounds of fat in his vision, Fergus returned to Damian, his grin showing every tooth in his mouth as he rested his hands on the table, “Did ya whore him out or did he run screaming?”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Al’ght, calm your dick.” Throwing his hands up as he retracted the statement, Fergus’s blue eyes seemed to glow under the pink as he drank from his half-finished scotch, the grin never disappearing. “I’m assuming you’re fetching yer due or some shit.”

“It is none of your concern.”

“You’re sitting across from me, Fergus, surrounded by piss, blood ‘nd shit in a club that might as well be shut down by the pigs and you tell me it ain’t any of my concern, especially when ye’re dressed up like it's a date?” As the man leaned over the table, like a bear about to strike the rabbit, Fergus’s eyes bore into his soul, “be lucky nobody else has put a bullet to that temple.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Can be if you want it to be.” The chair groaned under the weight of the other man as he sat back down, looking at his watch as he checked the time. “Pretty boy should be on in two minutes. Nev’a late.”

And never late he was. When the lights dimmed and those gorgeous brown curls appeared on the dimly lit stage, it was like Damian had lost all ability to speak. And he was dressed in that pretty lingerie that Damian had bought him. Pretty in blues and purples and reds, Eliseo seemed to wear it like a fancy glove as he danced around that stage with the lights shining on him — while the outfit had been for only his eyes to see in the first place, there was something about being able to glance to the side and see the other man drool over something he couldn’t have. He watched as Fergus swished around his scotch.

“Two scotches.”

Damian eyed the glasses as they were placed down on the table and watched the waitress as she walked away before he picked up the glass that sat in front of him, sniffing at the contents before putting it back down. While on most days he would allow himself to sip at a good scotch, the smell of cinnamon that came from the glass was less than inviting, red eyes glaring at the man in front of him momentarily.

“Not drinking it?” Damian bit his tongue as Fergus spoke, though as the man shrugged and kept drinking his own, Damian felt his eyes to wander back to the stage. He could see Christine off to the side, watching as she scanned the room before letting her eyes land on him. And Fergus.

‘Are you fucking insane?’ the woman mouthed from behind that curtain, Damian watching the way her brows furrowed in confusion at the overweight man. It hadn’t been a part of the plan — neither of them had been banking on another being here, but yet as Damian looked to Fergus before back to Chica, he mouthed back ‘I have this under control’ before she retreated behind the curtain.

He didn’t have any of this under control. He had to find a way of shaking off Fergus. Looking around the room before spotting the manager of the place, having seen him plenty of times being the last to leave and the first to arrive. The walk was brisk, and quick, Fergus’s attention too enamoured by the stage to notice that Damian had left. “You the manager?”

The manager was a scrawny thing up close, couldn’t be older than twenty-five based on the acne, though as the green eyes of the other man looked him up and down before nodding, Damian bit the inside of his cheek.

“Is Eliseo available for a private meeting?” Watching the way the manager’s eyes bulged at the use of Eliseo’s real name, it looked like he saw a ghost, blinking once, twice before looking at him even closer. “I know him personally.”

“I’d need to talk to his persona— woah.” As Damian pulled out a wad of cash from his inner pocket, flashing it to the man’s face, he could see the metaphorical dollar signs that appeared in his green eyes before he snatched it, counting each bill quickly. “I’ll see what I can do, the private rooms are in the back.”

Good, Fergus can’t follow him there. Letting himself be led into the twisting hallways of the club, Damian could still smell the rotten stench from a mile away, yet it dulled the further he got from the main room. The carpet became less sticky under his feet, the lighting seemed to be better, and as he was left in the room he knew that this club put their bank on private reservations.

He couldn’t help but let himself to the wine in the bucket, not even taking a cup as he took a swing straight from the bottle. How long would it be until Fergus realised that he was gone, leaving nothing but the scotch he was meant to drink? Probably not anytime soon. Letting the stray wine that attempted to slip from his mouth be wiped away by the sleeve of his suit jacket, he inspected the label of the wine.

“Fuck…” Damian muttered, smacking his lips against his teeth as he spoke, “That’s some fine wine.” Bottled in the eighteen hundreds, no wonder why this place looked so nice in the back; it was for the rich and the elite as a cover. He could hear the thunder of applause from where he stood, signalling the end of Eliseo’s show. With the thundering vibrations that echoed through the halls, Damian’s throat tightened up; it was like his entire conscious was telling him that Eliseo may be fine here, that he was seemingly happy. “Fuck!” He cussed again, the wine bottle vibrating with the impact as he slammed it against the table in the middle of the room.

He was in this too deep now.

The door slammed open, Damian letting his eyes shoot up to look at the blazing blue that was Eliseo. Seeing him there, making eye contact with him and breathing the same air as he had made his heart feel like it was squeezed in a vice grip. His hair had grown longer, shaggy in front of his eyes as Eliseo took a few steps into the room, shutting the door behind him. It was quiet, the only thing that echoed in the room being Eliseo’s hard breaths, watching as he leaned against the wood of the door.

“Elis-.”

“Don’t talk yet.” Eliseo’s words came out harsh, stopping him in his tracks as he sucked in a deep breath. Of course, what was he thinking; they hadn’t seen each other in so long and now he was intruding on his life. He took another sip of the wine. “I should have known it was you,” Eliseo’s voice wavered as he talked, even if he had long hair that covered his eyes, there was no hiding the tears that streamed down the other man’s face as he stood there, a sheer slip covering his skin from his gaze, “how long have you been out?”

“Since June.” Even if it had been four months since Damian was released from that hell hole, there was something about how Eliseo just stared at him, keeping their distance while wearing those goddamn shoes that made him taller. Based on the door, with those heels, Eliseo was probably as tall as he was. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I knew you would, you always do.” It didn’t stop the pain that had come with knowing that Eliseo had moved out when he was stuck in the shit hole, that he had uprooted his life to do this, but as Damian took a few steps towards the man, Eliseo didn’t even reject his touch as he placed a hand on his cheek, watching as he slowly melted his way into his hand. “I missed this…” I missed this too hung on the edge of Damian’s tongue, letting his arms slowly scoop Eliseo into his hold. It was foreign to finally hold him again, to smell his shampoo, to feel his heat.

It felt right.

“Why didn’t you come to me directly?”

“I wanted you to want me back.” Damian let his words hang in the air as the thumping of the stage echoed through the walls, his fingers holding onto Eliseo tight as they stood there. This was too easy, too simple, he had imagined Eliseo screaming, crying, kicking, yelling at him to stay away, yet Eliseo had come to him so easily, so quickly, letting him hold him in his arms like it was where he belonged — no, scratch that, it was where he belonged.

He had dreamed of those nights where they could just go back to normal, where he would come home to Eliseo in his arms… his grip grew tighter around the other man’s waist, feeling the satin that covered his form. This hadn’t been for nothing, this had been for something, and he had it back where he wanted it.

“Why did you leave?” Damian finally muttered after the silence had entrapped them whole, allowing Eliseo to pull back to look him in the eyes. Those gorgeous blues, swimming with tears, rimmed with red against his tanned skin. A painting he wanted to forever preserve.

Yet nothing could prepare Damian for the shaky words that escaped Eliseo’s mouth, ones that shattered his world and made his soul quake in a rage that he couldn’t express; “I’m no good for you, you need someone stronger, someone who wouldn’t hesitate shooting.”

“No good?” Damian repeated, already feeling the way his skin scorched in the unspoken emotions, red eyes wanting to bulge from their sockets as the pressure built up and up; who dared make Eliseo think that, to poison his brain with untruths and lies? He would murder them all. “You’re the only one who can love me the way you do.” And it was the truth. Eliseo was the only one had grown up with him, been with him through the rocks, been in his bed with him, hell, had seen him cry — yet he couldn’t stop the tears that overflowed from his own eyes as all the feelings he had been bottling up over the past few weeks finally overflowed.

“Damian?”

Burying his face into Eliseo’s hair, Damian breathed him all in; he was here, he was in his arms, the loneliness that had been gripping his heart still remained, however, crushing him, smothering him. He just needed to hold Eliseo close, to feel his heartbeat. He could feel Eliseo’s hands pressed up against him, his hands wound tightly around something, and yet he didn’t mind the feeling of something lightly poking him in the stomach. The smell of lavender and sweat invaded his senses, the feeling of Eliseo’s sweaty hair pulling him to the ground over and over again.

The music started back up in the main room, signaling the start of another performance as Damian allowed himself to pull back, to brush away the strands of hair that had settled themselves in front of Eliseo’s blue eyes so then he could look at him in all his glory. A masterpiece, a man that no other could dare dream of loving the way he did, yet as his eyes flickered down to Eliseo’s lips, seeing the way they were parted and lightly dusted with the hint of glimmering lip balm, he could not stop himself as he swooped in to have a taste. Strawberry and a hint of vanilla, he could smell it as he allowed himself to have that small taste, but yet a small taste didn’t seem to be enough for Eliseo, pulling Damian back in for another, and another.

How he had missed this too. Damian allowed his thoughts to be thrown to the wind as he pressed Eliseo against his hips, allowing the man to devour his breath, his life, and his soul as they kissed. Eliseo may be the more subdued of the two in terms of their lifestyles, but that was never the case for them in particular, allowing Eliseo to lead the kiss as he was pushed across the room, allowing the back of his knees to hit the cushioning of the couch behind him, forced to his ass as Eliseo pressed him down.

Dressed in that lingerie, staring at him like he was some sort of piece of meat, Damian had no other choice but to feel his arousal stir as he looked up at him. Fuck, that was hot.

“Waltzing back into my life,” Eliseo muttered, “making me feel all these things so easily?” Eliseo’s legs easily straddled him as he sat there hovering, those pretty blue eyes that twisted their way into Damian’s life staring down, down into his soul. The lights of the room couldn’t reach his face anymore, overshadowed by the form that was Eliseo, his brown hair dangling down as his fingers came to slowly unbutton his shirt. His tanned skin seemed to flush more as his blood began circulating. “How naughty of you.”

Damian’s shirt was ripped open once the buttons were finished, Eliseo’s fingers spreading all over the pale skin as he sucked in a breath. Same Eliseo, those same eyes, the same ones that drank in the silky and scarred skin of Damian as if it were always his first time — it was never enough, Eliseo’s lips coming to gently nibble at the junction of his neck. “Getting into the good part already?” Damian muttered, his breaths coming out in a groan as he let his hands begin to ghost Eliseo’s waist, though with two slaps his fingers were forced to find purchase in the cushions underneath him instead.

When Eliseo didn’t want to be touched, he would make sure he had control of it. He would dangle what Damian wanted right over his head, just out of his reach, make Damian work for it as he would sit there, tortured, beginning to feel the way his cock brushed on the inside of his underwear as he had to restrain himself. A little tease, a minx, just like the way he had ran away from him.

Damian wanted to touch him, to mark him, to show him who he belonged to, but yet he found himself stilled underneath his touch and gaze, letting the other man do what he wanted.

“Good boy.”

If he died right now, he would die a happy man. Eliseo’s fingers dragged down his chest, over his nipples, down and down towards his waist band before he gently dipped them underneath, baiting a breath from Damian before he pulled them out, continuing to drag them down over his pants. Was Eliseo begging to be thrown onto the cushions and have the life fucked out of him? Was he begging to be like the photographs that he had gladly defaced with his cum? Damian thought so, his mouth going dry as Eliseo finally dragged his fingers back up, unbuckling his pants before slowly dragging down the zipper.

“How long ago did you find out I worked here?” Eliseo’s words were like a slithering snake as they snuck their way into his ears, his fingertips barely ghosting over the outline of Damian’s cock, feeling the way that it rubbed against the fabric, drawing forth a small hiss that escaped his throat.

Eliseo was really doing this here now, for what reason? Damian’s mind racked itself to find the answer as he thought back onto the many days that he had spent stalking outside of Eliseo’s flower shop and the club, feeling the heat of Eliseo’s stare on his skin as he felt the piercing gaze burrow deep into his psyche.

Had he been aware all of this time? Had he been paying attention?

Licking his lips as he felt Eliseo’s fingers grasp firmly onto his cock through his briefs, Damian finally answered, “A few weeks now…” He said, hearing the way Eliseo’s chest hummed with satisfaction at the answer, though his hand didn’t move under the briefs, instead, he pulled at the waistband until the head was barely peeking out, letting a thumb run over the neglected slit. “I found out two weeks after I saw you in the flower shop.”

“So my eyes weren’t deceiving me,” Eliseo’s smile seemed to widen, a cat’s gaze now staring down at Damian as he grinned, “That was you and Christine outside the shop today.”

“Wha— fuck.” When had Eliseo gotten a hand around the shaft? He didn’t know, but feeling the way he squeezed it hard enough to cause a twinge of pain up his spine sent shivers throughout his entire body. Holding him by the dick, staring him down, Eliseo was in the prime position of power — and looked hot while doing it too. Eliseo’s fingers slowly massaged over the shaft, his fingers and hands noticeably more toned than the last time he had found himself in this position. “Eli…” He was able to softly groan, watching the way those blue eyes glittered and shined with such mirth that he swore that he was going to be swallowed whole right then and there.

“Been watching you,” Eliseo muttered, his free hand coming to the tip to swipe at the beading of pre as he slowly leaned back closer, the smell that was so intoxicatingly Eliseo filling Damian’s senses, his chest flaring with heat as he dug his nails into the seats, “you can’t hide that blue hair from me.” That god damn kitten lick, that fucking tongue ghosting out to lick at his bottom lip, it broke the man, grabbing Eliseo’s hips and throwing him down to the cushions underneath the two of them.

Eliseo may be confident when he was in control, but watching it melt away when he found himself in the bottom position was something else. He could smell and taste the nerves that bubbled to the surfaces and revelled in the look that flashed across Eliseo’s eyes as he tried to get back up, but a firm hand on the skin of his stomach was enough to make him still.

Eliseo had his fun, but now it was Damian’s turn.

Removing the hair tie that kept his corkscrew curls from his face, his hair came from the low ponytail to hang down, letting his fingers curl themselves into Eliseo’s hair as he tied it back, leaving those brown curls away from the blue eyes he wanted to stare at. “Perfect.” Eliseo may be already mostly bared for the world to see, but to see his face as he dragged his fingers down his unmarked chest? Even better.

“Dames?” Eliseo muttered, all the prior confidence in his voice gone, though as Damian’s fingers just so gently brushed over the nipples of Eliseo’s chest, he couldn’t help himself but to tug on them gently, a breathless gasp escaping from between Eliseo’s lips. He needed more. His hands ungracefully wandered over Eliseo’s body as he stole another kiss from the man, basking in the glow that came with hearing him moan directly against his lips. It never ceased to send shudders down Damian’s spine no matter how many nights he had spent with Eliseo under him, on top of him, beside him.

This man was one that he wanted to be with again, and again, and again, no matter how many times he would have to be found. Damian lost himself in the moment, his lips, his teeth, his fingers feeling every inch of Eliseo’s exposed skin, touching him, tasting him, marking him. Damian needed him to be marked, to be bitten, to be bruised, if he weren’t any of those things then how would the world know he was taken? He needed this tanned skin to speak a sinful truth, a devil’s hymn, hearing the way he stole Eliseo’s mind with each movement, feeling the way the man under him hardened in that pretty little thong that shimmered blue against his skin. Fuck, his own mind whirled as he allowed himself to finally bask in the moment. He had him in his hands, like putty.

And he didn’t have fucking lube.

“I know that face…” Eliseo muttered, his fingers coming to brush away some of the coils that framed his face, blue eyes staring down at the dark red that were his own, “don’t over think it, we’ve been in this situation before.” Too many times. Eliseo had a point, though, and he knew it with the way his blue eyes twinkled, yet his own eyes scanned over Eliseo’s body, taking in each bite and hickey that had begun to form on his skin. “Hm?” Eliseo muttered as Damian’s body slid further down his own, brows furrowing as he stayed focus on Damian.

Perfect. He wanted him to watch this. “You worked so hard up on that stage,” Damian could feel the grin grow onto his face as he spoke, his fingers slowly hooking themselves under the dainty straps that secured it to his hips, watching the way they curled as he slowly began to slide it down his legs, just enough to watch as his cock bounced from the restraints and into the open air, already beading itself with small bits of pre. Eliseo’s brain must have clicked right then and there on what was about to happen, the man sliding one of the cheap pillows to rest under his head as he watched, blue eyes shining slightly with interest. “Sit back and let me make you feel good.”

While Damian had his fair share of pleasing Eliseo with his mouth, this was the first time that it would be on a shitty couch that looked better than it felt, with Eliseo’s eyes half lidded and one of his legs coming to curl around his shoulders. Damian took a moment to appreciate the man in front of him. How gorgeous was he, with such a gorgeous stare and an even more gorgeous cock standing at attention right in front of him? It was like a work of art, especially as Damian allowed himself to lick a slow stripe on the underside, one that he could feel the way Eliseo’s thigh clenched near his head.

Perfect.

Oh so perfect.

“Damian…” Eliseo could go louder than that, he knew he could. With the music that played out in the main area and the distance they were, Damian wanted to hear that man scream his throat raw, even if it meant he would have to go hours for it.

“That’s it, that’s me.” Saliva gathered in Damian’s mouth, willing it to pool on his tongue before he spat some into his hand. Even if Eliseo muttered a soft ‘gross’ from above, he knew that it was at least better to use than nothing at all, especially as he began to slowly pump at the throbbing flesh, feeling the way it almost seemed to grow a bit more in his grasp. He was so easily pleased, no matter the time of day, yet hearing the soft gasps and whimpers that escaped Eliseo’s mouth at the sensation, he knew he hit the jackpot.

“Feels better when you do it.” Eliseo muttered just barely loud enough for him to hear, seeing the way the muscles in his belly grew taut at the struggle of not thrusting up into the warm hand that encompassed his cock. Damian could imagine all those nights where Eliseo would have to pleasure himself, probably thinking about the way he would touch him, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought, lightly nuzzling his cheek into the thigh next to his head. “Do the thing with your thumb.”

Damian could feel his own throat vibrate slightly as he processed the request, his eyes drifting down to the darkened head of the cock in his hand, seeing the way the slit bubbled slightly with milky white that slowly mixed with the sweat on his skin. He didn’t need to even say words, placing the pad of his thumb over the slit and pushing down slightly — he would never get tired of seeing the way his back arched with that, the whine that escaped from Eliseo’s mouth in such a pretty whisper being one that he would save in his mind next to the other ones.

His own hardened shaft was beginning to chafe against his underwear and the seat under him, grunting slightly as he lifted his hips up just enough to rid himself of any fabric that could rub against it, the other massaging the slit on Eliseo, hearing the way the man uttered his name.

“That’s it, that’s my name.” He needed to taste him, to have the taste of sweat and Eliseo on his tongue, slowly replacing his hand with his mouth, he kept his eyes trained up on those gorgeous blue eyes as he took him all in. The taste, the smell, it was all him, mixed in with whatever perfume he wore that night. How had he been able to go so long without this taste on his tongue he didn’t know, but to have him now? It was a dream come true.

His heart was hammering in his chest, so full of emotion that he couldn’t place, but yet what man needed to have emotions named when he could follow the instinct of his cock? Yeah, that seemed about right.

Pretty faces, pretty emotions, he could feel how Eliseo’s fingers weaved themselves into his hair and pulled softly, Damian allowing his mouth to pull back with a satisfying pop, eyes half lidded as he stared up at the man. Eliseo’s face was flushed, sweat glistening his body in such a way that he looked like an angel laying there in a pile of sin, the lace of the underwear brushing slightly against his chin as he pressed a soft kiss to the underside of the shaft. “Yes?” Damian said, watching the way Eliseo’s mouth struggled to form words. If he wanted something, he needed to vocalise it, if he wanted it to be done, so be it. “I know you can speak, come on.” Shifting himself into a sitting position, well above Eliseo, he waited.

Yet he couldn’t stop his hands from resting upon his waist when Eliseo came to sit on his lap, the underwear brushing against his own cock and causing him to softly hiss. That felt nice, especially with the heat of their bodies, of the room, feeling the way his shirt stuck to the skin of his back as he sat there, looking up at Eliseo. “Baby?”

“It’s not fair I’m the only one feeling good.” Eliseo’s word was final, gathering some of his own spit into his palm, taking a short break from speaking. His voice was already so raw, so true, Damian able to hear the way it strained to keep itself even as Eliseo sat there, thinking carefully about his next move, “Keep me steady?” He didn’t need to ask twice, Damian’s hands anchoring the other man to the spot, one hand spreading its fingers over the small of Eliseo’s back as the other focused on his own goal.

“This position reminds me of the day I told you I love you.” Damian muttered, Eliseo’s hand pausing its movements, just barely touching both of their cocks as he waited, listening, “Apparently you wanted to fuck me so bad that you couldn’t even wait until we got back to my place.”

“You were the one that told that girl that you were ‘going to fuck your ass’.” Damian’s cheeks warmed at the memory, yet his chest remained hotter still at the way Eliseo threw his head back to laugh, the absurdity of that situation dawning on him as this was the exact position the two of them had been in on that night, where lube hadn’t yet been bought and emotions ran high. “Yes, I remember that, Damian.” And just like that night, Damian placed a gentle kiss to the Adam’s apple of his throat, stealing Eliseo’s breath away.

“Still think of that ni- fuck.” And Eliseo didn’t hesitate on stealing his, Damian letting out a low groan as he felt Eliseo’s hand hold them together, beginning to slowly pump at their warm flesh. The friction was delicious, the warmth so much, Damian allowing his face to nuzzle into Eliseo’s shoulder as he muttered soft praises to whatever god was above. This man was like a holy grail, so perfect and fine and so devilishly tempting — biting into whatever apple that had been behind that smile had been the best decision he had ever made.

No one could be like Eliseo, no one could even think about coming close enough to be him. Eliseo was the only Eliseo that he cared for and loved, feeling the way his nails began to dig themselves into the flesh of his hips and back. He needed to consume his scent, his taste, him, keep him close, never let him go. Nobody could take him away from Eliseo, no one could even dream about making him feel as good as the way he did, his tanned hand around his cock, his fingers brushing against the pulse on his neck.

Those pretty moans.

Fuck, he wanted to be inside of him now. He could imagine how tight he was, nobody else having come even close to staining the inside of Eliseo with their filthy cum; it was only him that could do that, only Damian himself that could dream of being inside of Eliseo here. Only Damian could feel the pleasure that came with being so close to Eliseo, to feel his hand and cock as they were pumped away, sending shudders and shivers down his back with each moment.

“As soon as I can,” Damian began to mutter into heated skin, hearing Eliseo’s pulse against his ear, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” His words were strained, hard to get out with the way Eliseo teased him, baited him, held him, each word threatening to turn into a moan as he spoke. He needed to say this, to hear the way Eliseo’s heart beat paused at the idea. “Need to make you take me so fucking deep.” He could picture it now, the way Eliseo would be bouncing and crying and begging him to cum, maybe even with a pretty little choker on, one that would scream his name.

“Keep going…” Eliseo begged, his own words choked as he pressed a finger down against the prominent vein on Damian’s throbbing erection, “Tell me what you would do.”

How this man drove him wild with such simple words. His lips curled upwards, his teeth nipping at a bit of skin. Frankly, Eliseo was getting off easy; they still had to walk in public, he still had to show off most of his skin, he was so lucky that even if that outfit drove him wild that Damian had some restraint. As much as he wanted to suck and bite that beautiful skin black and blue, he would rather not draw attention to the two of them.

A hand went from Eliseo’s hip, gently trailing its way up his hip, his chest, letting his thumb gently graze over a perked nipple. “I would make you feel like such a prince before you descend into a screaming, crying mess, bathe you, feed you, then I would have you on your knees before me.”

He lost the ability to think about what he was going to say next after it, each word flowing from his lips like a waterfall. Fuck the ability to think, fuck the ability to even communicate the million thoughts into one comprehensible sentence, he needed to see that face as he came. He was going to make him scream and cry and beg for him to fuck him properly, even if the whole damn club could hear them. His hand easily shoved Eliseo’s away from their cocks, taking them into his sweaty spit slicked palm as he began to pump at them, the rhythm almost non-existent beyond the need to paint Eliseo’s stomach in a mixture of their white. Eliseo’s breath was like a bear, growling, grunting, the sharp point of each hitting Damian’s skin like a sharp fang, Damian’s fingers gripping so tight yet kept moving, kept pumping, rubbing, feeling that coil build up faster than he had ever found it before.

He really was no better than an animal, a rabbit, desperate to breed, desperate to fuck, his mind pulsing with each thought that rushed through his mind. Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was too fucking good, feeling the way his own cock throbbed and twitched before he finally came to his end, barely able to contain the groan that escaped his mouth before he sealed Eliseo’s lips in a searing, scorching kiss. A few more movements of his own hand and Eliseo was right there with him, their bodies trembling in their embrace as Damian savoured the feeling of the high. As the blood began to rush back to his brain, filling it with thoughts beyond fucking, Damian’s red eyes wandered Eliseo’s shuddering form once he had pulled back, his breath pinched by the moment and heavy, taking pride in each of the bite marks that were present along his shoulders, his neck, his chest.

He looked like such a good ruined man.

“Haven’t came like that in a while.” Eliseo’s first words came out in a soft chuckle, his lips shiny, bruised and red and yet his smile was still warm, trembling hands coming to cup Damian’s cheeks as he gave him a soft kiss. Compared to all the others, the ones filled with tongue, teeth and lust, this one was soft, calm, one that allowed his eyes to flutter shut as he allowed himself to push into it, letting the moment go by in such peace. “I missed you.”

“I knew you did.”

Damian didn’t need his coat, he could just carry it on the way out. Taking the jacket of the suit he had been wearing and using it to wipe up the mess, it was like pins and needles had overtaken his entire skin as it seemed to be so sensitive, too tender to brush, his spine tingling with little shocks of pain as he did so. Thank God he had decided to clean up, hearing a few knocks at the door as the two struggled to fix themselves to something decent, the same pimply-faced man that had bought them here poked his head in.

“Ah, good, you’re not fucking the dancer.” Were the manager’s only words as he removed himself, shutting the door behind him again.

The silence was deafening for a moment, the two of them turning their heads to slowly look at each other before snickers slowly begun, full blown laughter not too far off as Eliseo’s head dropped into the crook of Damian’s shoulder, the smell of sweat and sex hanging heavily in the air all the meanwhile. “I knew he was a virgin,” Eliseo began, blue eyes twinkling with mirth as he slowly pulled back, “he doesn’t even know what it looks like.”

Time was running out, the red card that had been left on the door being the indicator. Making sure that nothing struck out as odd, the two allowed their blood to cool, their breaths to even before they even thought of stepping out of the room.

“I’ll meet you outside in ten, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

The air was cooler now that the sun had gone down, the street lights being the only thing that illuminated the space as Damian leaned against his car, rolling the cigarette between his fingers as he muttered under his breath. Despite the years he had been smoking, it was like he was a beginner every time he rolled a stick, the tobacco always finding a way to not stay completely within the paper, making his brow twitch in frustration. “Damn it…”

“I thought you stopped smoking?”

The cigarette dropped onto the bonnet as Damian cursed, allowing himself to turn around to face Eliseo where he stood. Outside of the club, up close, Damian couldn’t help but notice that his sweater was a bit bigger than what he normally would wear, Damian’s hands balled into fists behind him. “That’s my sweater.” It had been, back when he hadn’t been the head of a mafia, back when he and Eliseo were able to have a little bit of more freedom to do what they wanted, but the sauce stain on the collar was new, Eliseo’s blue eyes seeming to pop against the maroon. Shaking his head slightly, he focused back on Eliseo’s question, feeling how his fingers began to throb with pain as he uncurled them. “Bad habit.”

Eliseo's hand raised and Damian reached for it, but Eliseo passed him to pluck the cigarette from the bonnet before working it between his fingers, the paper and tobacco melding together into one. Eliseo worked quickly and swiftly, placing the butt of it between Damian’s lips before he could even protest.

No words were needed between the two, Damian picked up his lighter before letting the embers burn, the first hit of the nicotine hitting Damian’s lungs like a tidal wave, the relief that settled into his bones spreading through his entire body. The hit of the cigarette was a high that slowly ebbed away as he allowed the smoke slowly billowed out from his nostrils, away from Eliseo who took a spot next to him. The silence passed like a ticking clock, Damian working through his cigarette, allowing his fingers to slowly work their way into Eliseo’s.

He missed nights like this.

No talking, no discussion, just allowing the two of them to bask in each other’s presence, allowing for them to just exist without talking, just touching, just looking, Damian’s thumb slowly grazing the back of Eliseo’s knuckles. Only a few minutes ago, or at least it felt like it, they were going at it like wild animals, screaming, crying, looking at each other for the first time in what felt like years. “I’m sorry.” Eliseo’s words cut through that silence, Damian’s head snapping to look down at him. Sorry? He could hear Eliseo gulp slightly, watching the way tears caught on his lashes in the starlit moonlight. “I shouldn’t have ran away. I’m a coward.”

Damian’s grip tightened slightly on Eliseo, the cigarette falling from his mouth and onto the wet concrete below, his foot stubbing out the ember as Damian forced Eliseo closer, smelling the remnants of what shampoo hadn’t been washed away by the smell of sex, smoke and whisky from the club. Damian couldn’t even make a sentence in his mind or push one from his mouth, his arms sneaking their way around Eliseo’s waist, his chin resting on top of his head.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” Damian’s mouth was dry, the words slowly wavering as they came, “You weren’t born into this life.” He shouldn’t even need to have to worry about him not coming home. He could feel the veins in his neck slightly bulge as he thought about the fear that went through Eliseo’s mind every day, at the concerns that had probably bubbled up when he was in prison… Eliseo, oh Eliseo, how did he deal with it?

He could hear Eliseo breathe in, his shoulders shuddering, though as he looked up at him to speak the sounds of gunshots rang out. Screaming, rushing people and the sound of platforms hitting the concrete as a familiar head of white hair came sprinting out the front door. “Start the fucking car!” How she ran in those stripper heels, Damian didn’t know, but Christ this wasn’t something he had expected now.

“Chrissy?”

Damian’s eyes bulged as he opened the passenger door, shoving Eliseo in, throwing open one of the back doors before he slid over the bonnet of the car and into the driver’s side, jamming the keys into the ignition and hearing the car roar to life as Christine flew into the car, the door slamming right behind her. “Drive!” Tires screeched and the engine roared as Damian pulled out of the parking lot, hearing the chaotic beeps of other cars as he tore down the road, most likely leaving burn marks on the blackened road.

His left-hand side mirror was taken out by a bullet, Eliseo yelled as it shattered, shards of glass hitting the window.

“What the fuck Christine?” Damian finally shouted once he ensured he had control of the car, using a hand to shove Eliseo towards the floor, his own head low as he swerved through traffic, glancing into the rearview mirror every once in a while to look at the cars behind them, “I thought you were hanging low?”

“I was!” Christine said in a huff, her makeup running down her face from sweat as she lay in the back seat, Damian taking note of the handprint mark that had begun to form on her pale skin and the torn clothes she wore. “I wasn’t planning on getting into this situation either!”

A driver laid down their horn as Damian cut them off, the side road that cut through buildings smelling like the sewer as they drove through, Eliseo’s blue eyes staring wide up at him. Fuck, great, perfect way of being together with him only an hour after getting him back; get stuck in a possible car chase and hopefully not get your head blown off.

“Christy, what did you do?” Damian began to slow once he didn’t see anyone following them, Eliseo and Christine, who began to nervously giggle, rising further up their seats, Christine’s fake colour eyes staring at him in the rearview mirror. “Christine.”

“I may have…” Her words slowly descended into mumbles, her gaze filtering away from the mirror before Damian called her name again with more venom in his voice, Christine’s back straightening at the simple uttering of her name. Oh, he was going to kill her. “I kicked Fergus in the balls.”

Before Damian could allow the cuss words to fly, Eliseo cut in, his face turning to look at Christine with a smile as he said, “Good, been wanting to do that for a while myself.” As fast as Damian’s mouth had opened, it gaped like a fish, red eyes taking a moment to stare at Eliseo before staring back at the road, slowly driving around a cat that seemed to want to stay in the middle of the road. “He grab you?”

“Yep.”

That explained the handprint. Letting his heart settle, the roaring pound of it vibrating his chest with each thunderous beat, Damian’s fingers slowly loosened from around the wheel, the death grip he had causing them to throb as the blood flowed back into his fingertips. He didn’t know how long he had been driving until he found himself in front of his home, cutting the engine as he sat in silence for a moment, allowing the situation to simmer in his mind. That had been close, way too close, staring back at Christine in the back mirror as she slowly raised something into his view.

A phone.

“I also got some blackmail.” Watching as she flicked open the phone’s top, her eyes looking down at the screen, she began to idly tap away at the stolen phone as he turned to Eliseo, seeing how he sat in the seat, his fingers gripping onto his pants tight despite the smile that was on his face.

“Eliseo?” Damian gently cooed, reaching out to grasp his hand, watching as Eliseo’s fingers slowly released the fabric to grip onto his, giving a gentle squeeze, “I’m sorry—.”

“I was planning on quitting for a while anyway.” Eliseo cut in, blue eyes staring at him. That’s right, this wasn’t the same Eliseo that had hid behind him before he had gone to prison, this Eliseo had gone and chased his own desires and wants, had been dancing in clubs in order to make a living. This man couldn’t be scared off that easily, raising his hand to give a gentle kiss at his fingers. “I’m going to call the owner tomorrow, tell him not to roster me on anymore.” So confident, and forward, Damian could feel as his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

What a man.

“So, you guys just going to stare at each other all night?” Christine’s face came into view, her contacts gone as she looked between the two men, “I’m feeling like take out, you guys want Chinese?”

“You’re buying it.”

“You’re so mean!”

Twenty minutes away, in the depths of what belonged to the Aftons, Fergus grumbled as he sat in the club, the people emptied out as Felix passed him an ice pack. “Stupid bitch…”

“Doesn’t seem that stupid if she was able to get the upper hand on you, fellow.” Felix’s golden eyes glittered in the dark as he spoke, almost seeming to dance around the space as he went to and from tables, picking up whatever scraps of food he could find, “A bit foolish to go after another esteemed gang, don’t you think?”

“Fuck off.”

Felix’s shoulders shrugged upwards as he scraped a plate of its nachos, the man not seeming to care about the hostility that came from Fergus’s throat, nor the gun that remained loaded by his side. He knew that if Fergus even thought of shooting at him that he would have to deal with Baby herself.

Though the thought of filleting the larger man was tempting, his nails were freshly manicured, holding them up to the light as he allowed himself to examine the pretty paint. “She could have done worse,” he muttered to himself, running his tongue over his bottom lip, “that woman’s as crazy as us.”

Making his way to the man, Felix finally helped Fergus to his feet, stepping over dead bodies as he helped him to the door. This place wasn’t anything special anyway, well, to Felix it wasn’t, his boots leaving trails across the floor as the blood flowed and pooled.

As long as Felix wasn’t going to get in trouble for causing chaos on what was meant to be neutral property, then he was fine with this.

#fnaf smut #five nights at freddy's smut #glamrock bonnie #glamrock bonnie smut #fnaf glamrock freddy #fnaf au #glamrock freddy #glamrock freddy smut #fronnie #fronnie smut #glamrock fronnie #smut #alternate universe #mafia au #fnaf mafia au #commissioned fic

[make-me-imagine]

Truth or Dare: Part One

(Part Two)

Plot: During a nostalgic game of Truth or Dare, Malcolm and Y/n realize there is more to their feelings for each other than just friendship.

Pairing: Malcolm Reed x Gn!Reader (Use of Y/n)

Written for @fandomdancer as a fic commission on my Ko-fi

Warnings: A couple mildly suggestive comments and scenes

A/n: The referenced "Southern pear salad" is pear halves with mayo, cheddar cheese, and maraschino cherries (and sometimes lettuce)

Words: 2k

----

You let out a soft sigh as the only sound heard in the room was the sound of the rubber ball Trip was bouncing off the wall again and again.

Staring at your shoes, you felt restless, but knew there was nothing to do, even as an engineer. The Enterprise was stuck in a storm that shut down the ship. Everything except life support and basic operations was down.

There was no work to be done, nothing that could be done, so you were all just waiting for the storm to pass. It had been three days, but it felt like three years. The pent up boredom was getting to you all as you sat around.

Trip finally let out a frustrated sigh as he leaned forward at the table "I'm gonna go crazy if I don't find something to do."

"Go for a run" Malcolm suggested as he sat nearby flipping through a manual.

Trip gave him a side-eyed look that told everyone exactly how he felt about that.

"Yeahhh, no. Let's play a game" He said instead as he turned towards you and Hoshi.

"Oh no." "No way."

The two of you spoke at once, as you shook your heads fervently.

"I'm not saying we play Monopoly again!" Trip defended himself as the tension rose in the room at the memory of how that went.

"Or Uno." Hoshi added.

"Or Life." Travis spoke up from nearby.

"Or even Scrabble, you guys really do need to tone down the competitiveness." You said as you looked between Trip, Malcolm and Travis.

"We aren't that bad!" Trip said with a chuckle.

You rose your brow "Yeah? Tell that to Captain Archers table."

An awkward air fell over the three men as they went silent recalling the previous nights incident.

"Okay, then a game that's not a card game or a board game." Travis suggested.

"And what would that be?" You asked as you looked back at him, as he went silent, unable to think of anything.

After another moment Trip spoke up with an excited tone "Hey, I got it!" he smacked his hand on the table, causing the rest of you to look over at him. "Truth or Dare!"

You and Hoshi shared a look as Malcolm snickered "What are we High Schoolers?"

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!" Trip defended "Come over here, all of you, come on!" He said with a newfound excitement in his voice.

You smiled and let out a soft chuckle as Malcolm and Travis slowly and reluctantly came over.

As you all sat around the same table Hoshi shook her head "I haven't played truth or dare since I was a kid."

"Well, let's be kids again then, for old times sake." Trip said with his familiar grin.

You and Malcolm locked eyes for a moment as you shared the same amused smile.

"Okay, I'll go first, get the ball rollin'" He looked around at all of you and you suddenly felt a sense of nervousness wash over you.

Exactly what kind of questions would he ask, and what kind of dares would he give?

His eyes locked with Travis "Travis. Truth or Dare?"

Travis swallowed as he sat up a it "Alright, uh, truth" He said with a slightly anxious tone to his voice.

"Oh, a truth on the first go, brave man." Malcolm said, a hint of teasing in his voice making you smirk.

"Alright, truth." Trip leaned forward, a small smile on his face "You ever gonna ask that cute communications officer on a date?"

Travis's eye's got a bit wider as you held back a grin. "Uh. Wh- what, who?" He chuckled nervously .

"Oh come on Travis." you began "Hannah. Your crush on her isn't exactly subtle."

He looked at you with terror as he swallowed, looking between the rest of them, they all nodded, confirming what you said. He let out a sigh as he closed his eyes.

"So?" Trip asked

"I don't know, maybe?" He said with an exasperated voice.

You smile and shook your head, feeling a bit bad or him. The others encouraged him a bit before everyone moved on, giving Travis his turn in the game.

Looking at you he smiled "Y/n, truth or dare?"

"Dare." You said easily, causing the others to 'ooh' like children.

You rolled your eyes. You weren't that worried, Travis didn't have it in him to give you a dare that you'd hate.

"I dare you to eat that southern pear salad Rollins made!"

You felt your stomach twist at the thought of the lieutenants "old family favorite" that he made for dinner.

Malcolm hissed under his breath knowing how much you would rather not.

Not wanting to back down at the first dare, you took in a breath as you backed out of your chair "Fine."

"Really?" Hoshi said with a sneer as she too thought of the unusual dish.

After a few deep breaths and a lot of water, you had finished your "dessert" and were now half way through the game of truth or dare. After Trip's obvious amusement towards you, you made him eat the last pear dish, which you know he would not be forgiving you for any time soon.

"Truth or dare?" Hoshi asked you.

"Truth"

She smiled softly, curiosity on her face "Tell us about your first love."

You felt your heart skip a beat for a moment at the question as you were thrown back in time.

Malcolm felt his breath hitch in his throat at the question, his eyes glued to you.

You smiled at the thought as you cleared your throat. "Joshua"

Malcolm wasn't sure why his heart clenched in his chest at the name. Or why he felt an uncomfortable tightness at the smile on your face as you said it.

You two had been friends for quite some time, maybe it was surprise at having never known about it?

"Joshua?" He repeated the name out loud, sensing the curiosity from everyone at the table.

You nodded "My high school sweetheart. We were together for five years before we broke up."

"Why did you break up?" Trip spoke up.

"He wanted to because we were going to different schools. I was going to the academy, he wasn't. He thought it was best, I didn't."

"He broke your heart?" Hoshi asked softly

You nodded "Yes, even more so after I found out he started dating someone new only a few months later. I was still very much in love with him. Much more than he had even been with me I think."

"Well he was a fool." Malcolm said softly.

You looked up and met his eyes and felt your breath hitch. There was something in his gaze you had never seen. The softness and sincerity in his gaze caught you off guard, it made you feel something you had never felt when he looked at you before.

You smiled and looked back down shrugging your shoulders "It doesn't hurt anymore. I was young, time has passed." You said sincerely, causing the others to shake their heads in agreement and understanding.

"My turn!" You said with a smile, trying to ignore the quickly beating heart in your chest as you felt Malcolm's eyes still on you.

"Travis, truth or dare?"

He nodded his head, feeling safer to get a dare from you than Trip "Dare."

You smiled knowing he had trusted incorrectly "I dare you to ask Hannah on a date."

The other's eyes widened as they tried not to laugh and cheer at the dare. Trip clapped as he grinned at Travis, who stared at you in disbelief and betrayal.

"You'll never know how she feels unless you ask." You said with a smile

"And if she says no?"

"Then you'll know! And you'll get to move on. Though-" you leaned a bit closer to speak softly to him, now acutely aware that Malcolm's eyes were back on you, something you wouldn't have felt so nervous about only an hour before.

"I know she likes you too."

Travis repressed a smile "Really?"

You nodded and he adjusted himself. "Well...when does this dare expire? I don't have to go do it now...do I?"

"Hmm. By tomorrow night" You said with a firm tone. "If you don't do it by then, you will be punished."

"How?"

You looked down at the empty plate at the table "I will have Rollins make you your very own special batch of southern pear salad."

He grimaced as he swallowed "Fine" He breathed out, earning smiles and a smack on the shoulder by Trip.

---

You weren't sure exactly how much time had passed since your game of truth or dare began, but you weren't complaining. It was certainly proving to be an interesting night, and you were glad to no longer be bored.

You watched as Trip stared at Malcolm, trying to come up with a suitable dare for him.

"I dare you to do twenty pull ups!"

Travis nodded his head in interest as you and Hoshi both rolled your eyes "That's so lame, what are you fifteen?" You chuckled

"Hey! Twenty pull up's is hard!" He defended as you rolled your eyes again with an amused scoff.

"If you think twenty pull up's is hard you need to work out more." Malcolm said with a smirk as he stood up, looking around for a suitable area to perform his dare.

It was Trips turn to roll his eyes at the subtle brag by Malcolm.

As you and the others watched as Malcolm adjusted his position, you watched with heightened curiosity as he began lifting himself into the air.

While the other's began counting his reps out loud, you found your eyes drifting downward as his shirt lifted to expose his stomach. Quirking your brow, you quickly shook yourself from your thoughts as you forced yourself to pay attention, glad that no one noticed where your eyes had drifted.

You were surprised at yourself, having worked out with Malcolm before you never caught yourself staring like that. I mean, you had noticed his physique definitely, but you had never blatantly checked him out before, at least not that you noticed.

Clearing your throat you started counting with the others, you really started to wonder what had changed so suddenly. Were you attracted to Malcolm? If so, why were you just now noticing it?

Malcolm repressed the smile that tried to form on his face when he thought he saw you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Not just watching him, but staring. He didn't want to assume incorrectly, but the thought that you had been made him happier than he expected.

Landing on the ground with a proud sigh he turned to Trip and smirked "Easy."

"Yeah yeah whatever" Trip said as he rolled his eyes.

You chuckled at their interaction before you looked back at Malcolm. You felt a small jolt through your body as you found his eyes already locked on yours.

You thought you saw a smirk on his lips, before it disappeared, but you ignored it as you turned away. You couldn't help but notice the way your heat fluttered in your chest.

"Oh! Is it really that late?" Hoshi said out loud as she looked at her watch.

Glancing over her shoulder, you read the time and hummed under your breath "We certainly killed some time."

"No wonder I'm so tired" Travis said with a light yawn as he stretched.

"We should head to bed." Malcolm suggested.

As you all hummed in agreement, you made your way out of the room. Suddenly, you felt a hand rest on your lower back. Glancing over your shoulder, you felt your heart jump.

Malcolm was smiling down at you before speaking softly "Goodnight Y/n"

You smiled softly, hoping he couldn't tell how his actions effected you suddenly. "Goodnight Malcolm."

As you left, the feeling of his hand no longer on your back was obvious. Your skin almost felt cold from the lack of touch. You took in a deep breath as you wondered what the hell was going on.

Malcolm thought the same, as he gazed after you, as you disappeared down the corridor, his own heart pounding as he flexed his hand, missing the warmth you had provided a moment ago.

xx

Second part will be released soon! I hope you liked i!

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Star Trek Taglist: @starfleetimagines, @groovy-lady, @asgardianhobbit98, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @starship-argo, @cs-please, @gatefleet, @fandomdancer

#Malcolm Reed #Star Trek: Enterprise #Malcolm Reed x Reader #Malcolm Reed/reader #enterprise #star trek enterprise #malcolm reed imagine #malcolm reed fic #malcolm reed one shot #star trek imagine #star trek enterprise imagine #fic #oneshot #one shot #truth or dare #commissioned fic #truth or dare part one #malcolm reed x gn!reader #star trek enterprise fic

[mytownhasariddleroad]

Hi, y’all! Happy belated 4th of July! I’m happy to say I got my first commissioned request. Thank you for your support and I hope this is what you were wanting! 🖤🖤🖤

( @smbk-lyn )

Eddie when his S/O Goes on Autopilot!

Eddie would be worried but he understands. Sometimes people get into a panic while doing something and they're so worried and freaked out that they get on a one-way track with what they're doing and can't come down until it's over.

He knows he can't always just get you to snap out of it but he's going to try and do whatever he can to help!

He may try to distract you or at least intervene in some way as much as he can so you can calm down instead of rush through something you’re doing with a lot of anxiety.

When you get like this he might come up and start talking to you and go “Hey, we should go sit down on the couch together. This can wait for a second. There’s no rush and I think you should come and calm down with me.” While he looks into your eyes and puts whatever you’re holding down to hold your hands instead.

He’ll try to get you to talk, even if it’s just a little bit. It doesn’t have to be about what’s bothering you if you don’t want to talk about it. He just wants to cut into the panic you’re having and get you distracted so he can walk you to the couch and hold onto you.

He’s hoping that after you calm down that y’all can then talk about what had upset you and if there’s anything he can do to help you and if there’s any way he can help lessen the stress and occurrences of these episodes.

He’ll try to get you into a routine to help you handle the episodes and so you’ll be ok afterwards.

He loves you a lot and he wants to help you as much as possible. Your comfort and health is at the top of his priority list and he’d do anything to make sure you’re as close to 100% as possible.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hopefully this was good! Thank you so much again for your commission! On that same note, I’d like to actually make a post about my ko-fi. I’m out of work for the next 2.5 months because of my current living situation. I know times are tough right now but if anyone would like yo help and send something or have me do a commissioned fic then please go right on ahead! I love y’all and I hope everyone’s amazing!🖤🖤🖤

#the riddler #paul dano #the batman 2022 #the riddler 2022 #riddler x reader #edward nasthon #paul dano x reader #batman #paul dano x you #edward nashton x reader #commissioned fic #ko fi donations #paul dano fluff #paul dano x y/n #edward nashton fluff #riddler fluff #the riddler fluff #paul dano riddler #dano riddler #riddler x you #riddler x y/n #the riddler x y/n #the riddler x you #the riddler x reader #danonation #please send requests #thank you for your support #support the author #kofi donations #please support

[impala-dreamer]

All Along The White Line - Sneak Peek

An SPN Story

~Take a drive to nowhere with your favorite Winchester...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

2,009 Words

A/N: NSFW. Poetical Smuts and a Dreamy Drive

...

“Glad you came along,” he says, giving her hand a tug until she slides across the bench to sit by his side. He drapes his arm across her shoulders and Y/N relaxes into him, her head resting on his arm, their knees touching, her hand on his thigh.

They watch the mile markers fly by, laughing at the town names as they pass. ‘Imalaystown’ makes Dean laugh for way too long and Y/N can’t help but roll her eyes.

They’re headed east but to nowhere in particular. There are no monsters after them, no case to be solved. It’s just the three of them. Dean, Y/N, and the white line on the side of the road. Nowhere really to go, no place they’re needed. It’s simple and beautiful and Dean wouldn’t give it up for anything.

He leans to place a kiss atop her head and Y/N sighs happily, her eyes blinking in the strobe light of the setting sun as it passes through the trees.

...

KEEP READING ONLY ON PATREON

#dean x reader #commissioned fic #patreon #sneak peek

[notedchampagne]

commissions for @griddlebait and @oceanmp3 of scenes in semi charmed kinda life! would recommend reading it i had a lot of fun doing these

donation commissions are still open until april 10

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #griddlehark #dudele #fic art #commission

[robynmas]

I commissioned this pic from the lovely @quiem_rhole on Twitter to go with an upcoming scene in my fic Freak-A-Zoid but it was so pretty, I just had to share it here too! Their art is incredible and they're so sweet, I encourage everyone to go check them out on Twitter!

#hazbin hotel #staticmoth #voxval #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel valentino #commission #fic #freak-a-zoid #ao3

[chenziee]

Law gulped heavily, watching as the tiny, oh-so-tiny piece of paper moved weakly across his palm, getting smaller with every second as the edges burned more and more. There was barely anything left. Barely enough to hang onto any hope. “What are you doing?” Law growled, but he could barely hear himself. There was a hum in his ears, a white noise that didn’t mean anything, didn’t serve any purpose but to drive him even more mad. He refused to believe this. The paper had to be lying. There was simply no way, no way that Luffy lost. No way that his life was about to disappear, leaving behind nothing but a few specks of ash.

I (once again) commissioned the incredible @kagamiciel for this gorgeous piece to go with my fic Ash (from the Ashes of Life series) and I couldn't be happier with the result!! I mean, look at it, it's so so so beautiful 😭🤍

#one piece #lawlu #lulaw #trafalgar law #luffy #monkey d luffy #trafalgar d water law #law x luffy #law/luffy #op fanart #op fanfic #canon verse #onigashima #ch 1044 #ep 1071 #sun god nika #vivre card #commission #kagamiciel #katie pretends to fic #ashes of life #plase i'm crying #i've been keeping it to myself for a few days so i could feel powerful having priviledged access #but #but but but #look at ittttt #look at themmm #i can't #they's so beautiful #luffy's smile and law's eyes and the effects of the vivre card growing back and--

[cool-island-songs]

amazing comm by @mirrorshards for my latest multichapter creek fic in a jar! it is a prison/trauma fic so please heed the tags/notes 💖

#sp creek #craig tucker #tweek tweak #south park #south park fanfiction #my fics #mirrorshards #commissions #thank you again shouri!!

[tiffycat]

Hiya! 🤗 I saw you take requests sometimes. I was wondering if you would do the scene from Buy Back The Secrets when Superboy busts in on Superman and Batman, snarling "You lied! You said he was a good man!"

I love soft timkon, but I'd love some absolutely feral Kon 👍

Drew out a quick comic of that scene for ya after like a month and a half >.> sorry

Was initially just going to be a single sketch from that scene but I got carried away

#superboy #kon el #conner kent #superman #clark kent #batman #bruce wayne #nightwing #dick grayson #timkon #< for the fic #dc #dc comics #fic art #usually a request like this would be better suited for a commission but my comms are closed and I had the time so I thought Id do it anyway #1k

[densewentz]

Dreamling Dads!AU commission for @aurelia-which-means-sunrise! Matthew is a wretched cookie thief and Tulip is very territorial of her batch 💕 (This is also NOT the first time Dream's been floured during this whole baking debacle and to be honest he's starting to suspect they're not as "accidental" as Kian seems to want him to believe) I can't thank you enough for such a fun comm, and with my baby Kian!!

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #morpheus #kian gadling #dreamling dads!au #kid fic #commission #densewentz commissions #the sandman #dream x hob #the sandman fanart #the sandman netflix #matthew the raven #digital art #sketch #artists on tumblr #aurelia_which_means_sunrise #my art #i am thriving i love drawing them #very special to get a comm about my own AU in the midst of the endless wave of tiefling commissions tbh

[corruptedroses]

— Devotion to Me

Fandom — Five Nights At Freddy's

Pairing — Nightmare Freddy/OC , OC & Freddles

Summary — Laci loves her husband, she does, but even she cannot help feeling upset when he lets her down

Content Warnings — infidelity threats, dom/sub dynamics, slight brattiness, breeding kink, brat taming if you squint, overstimulation, breast and body worship, fingering, happy endings

Word Count — 8k

Author's note — commissioned work

Having one child was enough for breakfast time, throwing food and laughing his head off at everything because he rarely got sleep, but when you added another two and made them triplets, it was something quite fascinating to watch. Even if she had gotten them to calm down and get at least half of their food into their mouths, Laci couldn’t help but sigh from where she sat at the end, slowly peeling bits of her pancake from her plate and into her own mouth as she flipped the pages of her book.

“Uncle Night got us some race cars and we we’re gonna play cars!” Aydin replied to the question Laci had asked before, the eldest triplet shovelling pancake into his mouth with his hand. His hands would be sticky and gross by the time he was done, but at least he knew how to wash.

“We’re going to go broom around the entire street!” Keon, the youngest followed in reply, just as loud as his brother as he began to make engine noises with his mouth. It was adorable if only he wasn’t spitting everywhere when he did it.

“Only in the backyard.” Laci finally said, her eyes raising from her book to look at each and every one of her boys. “We don’t want your cars to get taken, don’t we?”

Or them. Especially them.

When the concept of danger was your life and world, Laci still couldn’t believe that the slightest bit of danger terrified her when it came to her boys, but when you were a mother, one that had spent nine months waiting for them to come into the world, you were always bound to not want the best things to be taken away. Precious, still so tiny, their faces were still round from their baby fat, still growing by the day, it was amazing that these three had come out of her, that she had given them life.

And now they were smearing maple syrup along her tablecloth. “Boys, keep the food on the plates.” Would they listen? Probably not. Though as her eyes wandered to Elian, the smallest of the three, she watched as he slowly pushed up his glasses on his face, the boy’s brow scrunching at the feeling. He was still getting used to his new glasses, ones that ‘make him look like a nerd’ according to the boy himself, yet she gently reached over, pinching at his cheek.

“Mum.”

“You’ve got some pancake on your cheek.” Laci muttered her white lie, pretending to stroke away the food that wasn’t there, “Still getting used to them?”

“They don’t feel right.”

“You’ll get used to them, your dad did.” And Francis had been a moaner about them too. Elian looked so much like his father, from the honey-brown eyes to the highlights in his hair. Sure, there were aspects of herself that she could see in the triplets too, but Elian just looked like him. “And don’t lose them again.”

“I won’t, mum.”

Smiling as she retracted her hand, Laci busied herself with eating the rest of her own food, listening as her husband walked around upstairs. With the way he had been up there for a while, it seemed like he was working on something just before going out — or he had forgotten where he had put his wristwatch again. She leaned back towards the stairs and called out, “Check your bedside drawer.”

The footsteps stopped for a moment before walking towards their shared bed, the sound of a drawer opening and shutting filling the halls for a moment before a muffled thanks made its way through the house. Francis may as well have grown two heads the day he became more organised, though as she heard his footsteps descend the stairs, the face of her husband gracing her view as she tilted her head back, receiving a gentle kiss on her lips.

“You made breakfast for me?”

“It’s right under the foil, nice an’ hot.”

Francis sat at the table, the man’s eyes crinkling slightly with crow’s feet as he removed the foil, seeing the pancakes that had been stacked so neatly. She knew what he liked, light and fluffy, small like pikelets but not so, knowing these things always greeted her with a smile and a hum, knowing her husband like the back of her hand as she watched out of the corner of her eye as he began to eat too.

It was a comfortable silence, one only broken by Aydin leaving the table to go to the bathroom, the eldest already having finished his food by the time he left, leaving four. Yet that silence was theirs, and that silence was pleasant. Watching as his nose twitched, she bookmarked her spot as she gave her attention to her husband, Francis’s brown eyes meeting her own.

“You remember about tonight?” Of course, she remembered, she always remembered the things he told her, yet she only hummed with a nod, her husband’s greying brows slightly raising in response, “Make sure the boys are ready by the time I get home, I want to be able to get to that surprise.”

“Surprise?” The two remaining triplets echoed, their own eyes wide as they looked at their father, “Can we know now?” Keon begged, Laci placing a hand on his shoulder to remind him to not climb onto the table.

“Surprises aren’t surprises if you know what they are, Ke.” Francis said, responding to his son. It at least seemed to get the boys to understand their father, not choosing to pry any further as they decided to exit for themselves, most likely to go and tell their brother with the way they whispered and cheered on the way out. Though it seemed that it wasn’t all he had to say, especially with the way he turned to her softly, “Promise?”

“You know I always will.”

Plates were emptied and on the sink, bellies were full, Laci however wasn’t satisfied with just leaving her husband with a full belly, catching him as he was just about to exit the door. She needed to touch him, feel him, and take in his scent before he would be gone for the day. Sure, he was making a living by doing what he did — even if it wasn’t the typical bread winner’s job — but she knew that she would miss him all the same. It really wasn’t fair to her, it wasn’t fair that he wasn’t going to spend the day with her, lounging around, holding her.

But she adjusted his tie all the same, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth to bite on. “Do they really need you?”

“Nathan gets grumpy if we don’t all show up.” Francis’s words were like honey in her ears, especially with the way his brown and grey hair framed his face so perfectly, “I’d never hear the end of it if the deal goes under and I wasn’t there to try and help smooth it over.”

“They’ve got Mason for that.”

“Mason is as useful as a lollipop on an operating table.” Ok, that was true, but he didn’t need to rub it in his boss’s face like that. Tutting under her breath, Laci allowed her hands to smooth his tie, roam his collar until her fingers grazed at his face, feeling his five o’clock shadow before she pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.

“Be safe, won’t you?”

“I will always be safe, Mon cœur.”

“You learned that one from Gene.” His accent was off from the times Genevine had muttered it in jest, one that caused for Fracis’s lip to curl upwards at the aspect of being caught. Cheeky bastard.

“I’m still promising, we’ll have family time and…” His fingers grazed her ear as he leaned in, his breath hot against her skin as he continued, “Our own time.” He knew how his breath tickled at her spine, at her soul, her fingers grasping at his suit tightly for a moment before letting go.

“Such a tease.” She couldn’t help but mutter as she finally broke away, feeling herself already beginning to drip with a need that only he could fill. “You better hurry home quick, then.” She was already beginning to miss his touch the moment he moved away, yet he was like her air as she was his, his lips gently kissing her forehead with a soft goodbye.

Even if she could hear her boys yelling nearby, the house felt so empty without him there, her fingers gripping at her skirt as she listened as his car pulled away. He always kept his promises, he always made sure that she never wanted for anything beyond him.

Yet there was a few things that she wished she could have; one being peace and quiet. It wasn’t going to happen any time soon with the sound of something shattering in the kitchen, rushing in to find her boys standing over one of the plates.

“Sorry mum… we wanted to help.”

Laci didn’t get to finish her book that day.

Between the boys causing their own mischief, fighting and others dropping in during the day, by the time Laci had time to put her own feet up was the time she had finally put her boys to bed. Looking up at the clock that hung in the hallway, the door to Keon’s room shutting with a soft click, her brows pinched together as she read the time.

‘Francis probably got caught up.’ She tried to justify to herself, yet the familiar, bubbling red hot feeling was brewing deep in her gut. It was a bit silly of her to even consider getting angry, but he had promised her, even planned out some aspects of what they were going to do tonight.

And she had worn the dress she knew drove her husband wild. Mumbling under her breath as she crouched down, undoing the straps of her heels, her feet met the plush carpet that lined their hallway, soothing her ankles that had swollen as she had waited for her husband. It had been a saddening moment when she had to tell her boys to change into their nightwear, her own heart sinking down to her knees at the sight of their faces.

No, it wasn’t her fault. Huffing softly as she opened the door, the cold room greeted Laci, her dress the first thing to land on the floor. She would deal with it in the morning, she was already far too frustrated to even think about the wrinkles that would gather in the fabric by the time the morning came. It wasn’t fair for her, it wasn’t fair for her boys, it wasn’t fair that Francis had failed to keep his promise.

The nightgown felt cool against her skin, the moonlight shining through the blinds as she turned the lights off, letting it be her only guide as she slipped into the bed that she shared. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t fair. She had been excited to spend time with him after the long hours he had put into his work, into his mafia, yet at the same time it stung even more that work seemed so much more important than her. The sheets were colder without him here to warm them, his pillow still holding the indent from where he had risen that morning, yet as her fingers trailed over his spot, she let her hand ball into a fist.

Yet the sound of the car pulling up, the doors opening and closing, the familiar jingle of his keys, Laci had to bite her tongue to avoid shooting out of bed at that moment; she had to be angry, she was angry. His footsteps echoed through the house, slow, gentle, the house dark and quiet as Francis made his way through. It might as well be a bear in an antique shop with how loud each step was. He was home.

“Laci?” She could hear his voice drift into the room, quiet as the door opened, his form filling the door like it usually did, “Baby?” She did not answer, keeping her head on the pillow as she lay there, knowing that he wouldn’t even dare turn on the light at that moment; he hated the light so late, and with the way his clothes dropped to the floor in such a rush she knew that he was exhausted. “Come on, honey…” She heard him mutter as he climbed into bed, his arm coming around her waist as he attempted to pull her close, “I know you’re awake.”

“No, I’m not…” She muttered softly in return, hearing the way his chest rumbled as he slowly began to kiss her shoulder. On a regular night she would allow him, melt into his embrace, let him steal her soul away in the throws of pleasure as he would take her and please her in the ways he knew how, but she was upset, she was angry, she pushed him away even as her soul cried at her not to.

“Honey…?” Oh how his voice sounded so bitter-sweet and soft in that moonlight, barely able to see his golden eyes as they shimmered in the moon’s hold, but she turned away and pulled herself out of the bed that they warmed. “Is something the matter?” He knew what the matter was, he knew why she was so upset, why did he think that asking her in such a gentle and sweet voice was going to help his case? “Please talk to me.”

The boys were nearby, she knew that this would only become worse as the night went on; she had to leave, she had to get away before her emotions let her lose control. Her dressing gown was warm against her skin as she pulled it on, heading out of their room. The hallway was dark, only lit by the moon as she left their shared room.

She could still hear him, hear as his voice softly called to her, hear as his footfalls quickly walked after her. He really wanted her attention, he really wanted her to look at him. The rumpus room would be far enough away for their voices to get loud without fear of the boys waking up. She knew her house, she knew their home, walking through the dark as the carpet turned to wood, and the wood turned to smooth stone as she descended the stairs into their rumpus room, turning on the light at the top of the stairs as she did so.

Whisky, smoke, and the scent of men filled her nose as she walked down.

“Laci,” Francis called again, the light revealing that he was wearing nothing other than his underwear as he descended the stairs, squinting against the light as his hand gripped the railing, “What in the world is the matter with you, have you gone mad?”

“Gone mad?” Laci began, letting herself twirl around to face her husband, the pool table’s edge cool against her fingers as she gripped the wood, “If anyone here has gone mad, it’s surely you, Francis Evans.”

She could already feel the heat begin to rise, like a chemical reaction as she allowed the words to stew in the air. To use his full name, their shared last name, meant that she was beyond angry; she was pissed, she was wanting answers, situations brewing in the back of her head as she stared him down. Oh how she loved to see that shock that came forth on her husband’s face, see the ways the gears in that handsome head turned, but yet once they clicked into place she watched as he sighed, running a hand down his face.

“Is it because I came home late?”

‘Exactly that.’ she wanted to say, yet her teeth came to gently bite on her tongue. Let him dig his grave, then bury them to the top. “I put on my best dress for you, Francis.”

“You look great in all of them!”

“I prepared the boys for the night on the town,” her words felt like venom coming from her tongue, her nails scratching at the polished wood of the table as she felt her words sharpen, “Do you know how heartbreaking it was to tell them to change into their pyjamas?”

“You know my line of work, you lived it!” His words were like a roar as he attempted to close the space, yet all she did was push him away, keeping the distance between them vast and long as she did so. She had to win this war, she would win this war. “Laci, you’re acting ridiculous.”

Ridiculous, her? Her scoff came like a whirlwind, letting her hair fall from the bun she had put on top of her head as she began to laugh. Seeing her husband like this, so flustered, wanting to hold her despite not even having the audacity to say sorry? She may as well freeze her fingers off before she touched him in that moment.

“Fine, fine,” Francis muttered, slumping down onto the couch that sat against the far wall, “when you’re ready to talk, I’m right here.” What a dirty trick to play, what a nasty card to pull, watching the way his eyes darkened as he stared at her, fingers drumming away at his knee as he waited for her.

And her seat was waiting for her too.

Her knuckles couldn’t help but crack as she gripped her fists so tight her knuckles were as pale as her bones, the muscle of her brow twitching as she debated her choice. She could let him sleep here and return to their room, but even she knew where their night would end if she did not finish this argument right here and now.

And with the way his fingers flexed, her lower cheeks already were beginning to bloom with a heat that was all too familiar.

“Fine.” Her dressing gown swished around her legs as she crossed the room, crossing her arms over her chest as she stood in front of him. “What now?” Would he spank her, choke her on his cock, and make sure she wouldn’t walk tomorrow? Oh even if she hated the ideas at that moment, the warmth that spread through her core was delicious.

Yet he did none of that.

His fingers were gentle, and soft, as he undid the knot of her dressing gown, letting his fingers dip underneath the material as he laid his face against the cool lace of her nightgown, feeling the way his nose pressed up against his navel, his arms wandering around her hips. This was different, unusual, yet a hand came to play with his mosey brown curls as he took in a breath of her.

“The day you started to show was the day it became real to me.” She could feel the way his lips moved against the thin fabric against her stomach, hear the muffled voice of her lover as he stayed there, holding her in place. “Happiest day of my life, actually. Your face was so adorable when we first saw our babies, you pointed them out to me… It made me feel normal.” His fingers were so gentle as he trailed them down her spine, feeling his heat through the thin fabric as he worked at it before clutching it in strong hands. Strong hands that had held her, strong hands that supported her, uplifted her, kept her high above where she was only a decade ago.

It couldn’t have happened if they hadn’t encountered each other by chance on that day, when another man’s ring was on her finger and his own finger was far too bare. Her children would’ve had a different father, a different life, one that wasn’t as filled with such love and care as it was now as her fingers gently weaved through his hair.

“We should have another kid.” Francis’s words knocked her out of her thoughts, dragging her back to reality as her fingertips stilled in his hair. “I want to see you big again, it’s been six years.” Oh, how she adored the way he peeked out from her tummy, staring up at her with such gorgeous eyes that she had fallen for. Yet what good was there to a father that was rarely there, a man who was a father in name but yet couldn’t perform that duty?

The muscles in her thighs jumped as he reached his hands to dip underneath her nightgown, his cold fingers making her hair stand on end each place he touched, felt, keeping his eyes locked on hers in the meanwhile. He was a charmer, he was charming his way into her heart despite knowing the fact he always had a place there, charming his way into her clothes.

Her fingers looped under his chin, tilting his head further up to look at her. “You’re rarely here as is,” she began, feeling the way the words weaved a pattern in her mind, “Your sons don’t even ask where you go anymore.”

“The duty of the business.” He muttered, one hand coming to grab her wrist, gently kissing each fingertip, her wrist, her pulse. “I could always ask for some time off, I rarely ask for it.”

“That’s not the point.” When had her lashes begun to wet themselves with tears, when had she begun to cry? The dressing gown’s sleeve was useful in mopping up her tears but yet her heart kept weeping onto the floor at her feet. “Our bed’s cold without you, I miss when you’d hold me… What if I left one day, took the kids with me?”

Did he want to leave her that lonely until the end?

His grip tightened slightly on her, nails digging into her warmth as he let those words sink in, those eyes that she adored squinting up at her. He knew and she knew that she would never think about separating her boys, yet there was something laced in her words, something that almost seemed like a threat in the man’s eyes before she let out a gasp.

“You brute!” with a quick flick of her nightgown it was over his head, the stubble brushing against Laci’s stomach, over her stretchmarks, over the bits of skin that had formed into a small pouch to indicate that she and him had created not one, but three little lives together. Even if her face warmed, even if she could feel the heat wander down her neck, there was something endearing with the way his lips brushed against her skin, her scars, her soul.

“Can’t leave if you’re pregnant again, huh?”

Laci’s breath hitched as she felt his teeth gently come to bite down on the skin. Sensitive, stretched, he was going for each and every one of her weak points it seemed to be tonight. His hot breath against his skin, his hands against her, it made her want to melt into his embrace, yet she had to stay strong.

She could feel her body jump slightly as she huffed, breath coming out hot and fast through her nose as she readied her anger again. “So that you can probably have two pregnant women at the same time if your stories are ever to be believed?” Where had those ideas even come from, where had she even thought of him doing such a thing? For all the time they had been together, all the people that they had put underneath various piles of dirt for him to cheat on her? It felt like hot irons against her heart, her soul.

And it seemed to be the same for her loving, dear husband as well with the way she could feel his growl against her navel, “Are we really doing this right now?” He questioned, letting his head out from underneath her nightgown as he spoke, “Really, me cheating on the woman I love?” She knew the look he gave her, knew the look that decorated his face like a stormy cloud, one that changed just as quickly too.

“Hit a nerve?”

“Very much so.” As big as his hands were, they easily controlled her body to do his bidding, her knees meeting the couch cushions as she was forced onto his lap, onto his presence as he held her by the thighs, golden eyes darkening like simmering embers as he stared at her.

Oh, she had gone too far.

She could feel her mouth twitch into a smile, the same one she always did whenever she was nervous, but yet as his fingers pushed her nightgown further up and up her thighs, she knew that she was probably not going to get out of this one; didn’t hurt for her to try though, right?

“I’m sorry, baby,” she began, hearing her own voice waver as she brought her hands to his cheeks, cupping them so gently against her palms, “I stepped out of line for that one. I love you.” She knew it, but was she actually sorry for saying it? Never, not in a million years would she admit that she was sorry for saying something like that in the heat of the moment.

With how his eyebrow quirked up at her, she knew that he knew the same thing. “I have known you for more than a decade, Laci,” he began, his face beginning to grow dangerously close to hers, enough that she could taste the smell of chewing tobacco on his breath, a nasty habit he had picked up after he had tried to quit smoking, “I know you inside and out, what makes you tick,” each word was emphasised with a gentle tap of his fingers against her exposed skin, keeping her eyes locked on him, drowning her in, “you can’t trick me, even if I love you a lot too.”

Even if her chest warmed at hearing those familiar words, even as her heart fluttered at the brief moment her husband’s eyes softened at her shocked face, she couldn’t help but think ‘this is unfair!’ He was the one to not keep his promise, he was the one that had gotten all their hopes up only to get them squashed, and now he was the one teasing her as his fingers wandered to the front of her underwear, teasingly running soft, gentle circles over where she needed him most.

He knew how to make her drool, how to make her keel, how to make each and every nerve of her body light on fire.

“Remove your clothes before they end up in shreds on the floor.” And he knew exactly how to make her strip. Her clothing was on the floor in record time, the fabric most likely going to wrinkle from the way they bunched together on the floor, yet as she attempted to crawl off to remove her underwear, his hands kept her hips planted there. “Not those, I’m going to enjoy dirtying those.” His words rolled off his tongue in a growl, his lips coming to her neck to softly kiss at the vast expanse of it.

Yet his fingers were anything but gentle. He always had big hands compared to her, big enough to hold her hand in his and completely envelope it, as his palm enveloped her throbbing, needy cunt right now, shoved down the front of her panties and his pointer finger slowly circling around her wetness, gathering her slick. It sent shivers up her spine, feeling the way she was dripping down his hand, dripping and making a mess out of her pretty underwear that she had worn just for him.

“Good girls get their rewards, you going to be good for me?” His voice chuckled in a low rumble as she nodded, Laci’s hands bracing themselves against her husband’s toned shoulders as she felt his lips suck harshly at one spot on her neck before pulling away. Fingers still circling, fingers still going far too slow, she couldn’t help but gasp as he roughly pushed one in. “Then show me.”

A harsh kiss of teeth and lip joined the two’s mouths, swallowing her moans as he dragged his fingers across her walls. These were the same hands that had taken her from her old husband and her former fiances, these were the hands that had pulled the trigger on so many countless people because they had dared look at his family the wrong way. None of those people would know how divine his fingers felt in her cunt as she ground down against his hand, feeling the way his hand knew how to work her just right.

Knew how to work her open to take in his cock that most defiantly was uncomfortable in his briefs in that moment.

Francis’s lips wandered down her neck, leaving her to gasp and silently moan into the open air, her moans as loud as the night they had come together. She remembered that night all too well; the blood that had stained the ground, the sweat that had poured down the side of her face as she stared down Francis, the first time she had seen him with a gun in hand. Oh how she remembered the way he looked at her, his eyes full of want, how he had grabbed her, kissed her like she was the last bit of water on earth.

And he never stopped kissing her that way. Through her being introduced to others, through their escape into his part of the city, he never stopped loving her like the first day he met her.

Her fingers curled into his shoulders as he licked at one of her nipples, yet they didn’t stay there for long, flying to his hair as he latched on just above, feeling the way his teeth grazed at her skin just the way she liked it. “Please…” she sighed through her teeth, his palm brushing against her clit softly.

The sudden jump that rocketed through her system at the first slap was enough to make her squeak.

“Quiet,” Francis muttered against her breast, sending vibrations through her being at he slowly stroked down her lips, “Every noise you make… I’ll slap you.” While laced as a threat, there was something about it that made Laci’s cunt throb at the thought; it was still stimulation, it was still him touching her.

Testing the waters, she made a small noise, jumping once more as he slapped her, this time a little harder. ‘How cruel.’ She couldn’t help but think in her mind, knowing that he would do it too if she would so much as dare cover her mouth. Biting down on her lip, she sighed through her nose as his fingers eased back into her again.

“Even after more than a decade,” Francis muttered against her, knowing that his words against her breast drove her while, “You’re still the tightest cunt I’ve ever fingered, ever fucked.” She knew of his former flings, of his former exes, but the fact he had stayed with her despite the fact she was getting older was enough for her to allow her head to tilt back, especially as he let his nails drag along her inner, spongy walls.

She was getting older, her hair was beginning to show greys, but yet as she stared at the roof of their rumpus room, she noted the little things from the corner of her eyes that decorated the room; the pool table that they had suckered off her parents when they had shoved their bodies deep into a lake, the glass cabinet that held trophies that the triplets had won at school, everywhere she looked she could see bits of their life, bits of their home that they had decorated with love.

“Pay attention.” Being drawn back to the present with a bite to her nipple, Laci hissed softly as he bit down hard enough that it hurt yet it let go soon after, licking at it as if to say he was sorry without words. He never liked to say sorry, he never liked to vocalise that he was wrong, but yet as his palm applied pressure to her clit, she could feel herself tighten around his fingers, his head pulled closer to her chest for a moment that she was sure she had cut off his oxygen.

To be loved, to be cared for in a place that they had built together out of their love, she couldn’t trade it for anything else in the world. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she came around his fingers, hearing the way her cunt started to let out such lewd sounds as he kept working her through it — of course he wasn’t going to stop after the first time, this was meant to be a punishment for her because she had been so naughty. His fingers began to pick up their pace, Laci’s tongue becoming so much more appealing to bite on as he drew orgasm after orgasm out of her, each drenching her panties in the sinful essence of her.

He had done this the first time they had argued too, pinned her to the couch, fingered her until she was able to think of nothing more than sorry and his fingers in her abused cunt. She had still allowed for him to fuck her that day, deep into the cushions of the couch that had belonged to her husband before he had put a bullet in his head.

He proceeded to get rid of that couch the next day, claiming that it smelt too much of her ex and buying her a brand new one in her favourite colour.

“Too much!” She whimpered finally, her cunt clenching around his fingers as he stared up at her, golden eyes looking into her own before the hand that had remained on her wrist slowly wrapped around her throat. “Francis—.” He cut off her voice with just one hand, fingers poised carefully as they fanned out across her throat. Her oxygen was depleting, she couldn’t speak, yet all she could see was Francis’s smirk as he worked at her, worked at her swollen clit, worked at her cunt.

“Come on, baby, one more?” She could hear the sound of her beating pulse, able to hear it in her ears as the oxygen in her mind kept going, and going, each second feeling like minutes as he held her there. Her orgasm couldn’t of came soon enough, twitching as she felt herself once more clamp down on her husband’s fingers, gushing all over them, her thighs, what remained of a dry patch on her panties most likely being hit with the gush as she twitched and gasped, her lungs breathing in as he released his hold on her neck,

She could feel blood welling underneath her fingernails from where she had dug in a bit too deep into her beloved’s shoulders. “Finish me off sooner, next time…” She barely whispered, wiping away tears and drool that had flowed down freely in that high.

Another slap was given before his hand finally removed itself from her. Laci’s eyes followed his, followed his gaze as he watched the stringy substance that was her’s dripped down his hand, that had made a mess out of his skin as he sent her to heaven and back and without thinking she took it into her mouth.

“Good girl.” Her heartbeat was still loud in her ears as she slowly cleaned his fingers, her tongue working slowly over his knuckles, over his palm, cleaning up everything until there was nothing left besides her spit. “I think you’ve earned your reward.”

The feeling of gold spread in Laci’s chest as she wrapped her arms around Francis’s neck, feeling as he lifted her up to walk, her back meeting the baize of the pool table as she was laid down on it. This was it, he was finally going to give her what she wanted, helping him as he slowly rolled her underwear down her thighs.

“Fuck,” she could hear him mutter, eyes practically devouring her once he saw the pussy he had devoted his life to in the first place, “If I wasn’t so keen on filling you up, pretty sure I’d eat your perfect cunt for hours.” Her nerves lit on fire as he gave another slap to her core, for good measure, before his hands went to his briefs, rolling them just down enough to allow his cock to bounce up against his toned stomach, the head already covered in precum as he spat into his hand.

“Could say the same thing about you, love,” Laci’s legs spread as she said this, batting her eyelashes up at him as she did so, “Good enough to eat.” She could see the way his cock throbbed at the thought of being in her mouth, in her throat — but could he fuck another baby into her? The words from earlier still hung heavy on her mind as she lay there, watching as Francis prepared himself for her.

Once he was inside, she knew that the only way the two of them were going to separate was if he piped her full of his cum.

His hips slotted between her’s so naturally, her legs falling onto his so softly. The first point of contact was enough to make both of them sigh with relief, feeling the other’s heat against their own throbbing need. So soft was the insertion, Francis’s face pulled into a frown as he focused on making sure he slotted in perfectly, that Laci wasn’t in pain, and it all made her heart flutter as she saw it all on his face. Even in the height of passion, of pleasure, he never wanted her to be in pain; she was his to protect and hold,

And yet the pleasure he gave her was beyond her comprehension.

He didn’t waste any time after settling in, his hips beginning to pick a pace as he rutted into her, the man’s eyes trained on her, watching her face, watching her body. She was marked because of him, her body had changed because of him, and his eyes on her body, on the work that they had made together was something that made her feel sexy, hot, her hands coming to her own body as she pressed her breasts together.

With the way he groaned, her mouth couldn’t help but flicker upwards at the sight. “You like that, baby?” She gasped between moans, fingers wandering over her mounds as she played with them, a sight that made his fingers grip onto her thighs tighter. Knowing him, he was probably imagining them leaking milk, imagining her stomach swelling with another child, imagining her all so pretty and yet so horny because of him.

Pinching at her nipples, her eyes slightly rolled back as she felt his fingers begin to work at her abused clit again.

“Going to fill you up…” Francis grunted, leaning forward and onto his forearm as he kept fucking into her, his breath now hot against her face as he hit every spot inside of her that she could never dream of getting on her own, “Another baby, yeah? Make you a mother again, my cum dump.”

Even if he had expressed his own shock the first time they had been told they were having triplets, it seemed that the concept of another two or three didn’t deter him, his lips sealing over hers in a kiss, the sound of squelching filling the room with each thrust, each time he went up into her. Big, and strong, his thrusts were just perfect, just the type that made her squirm and mewl into his lips.

She needed more of him, she needed him to be rougher, faster, even if she knew she would have carpet burn by the time they were done, but yet there was a part of her that didn’t care for the consequences of then, only the consequences of now. She needed him to breed her, fuck her, fill her womb up and make her big. Laci’s ankles hooked on each other just behind Francis’s hips as he drilled into her, her heels pushing against him to drive him into her again and again.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” She cried as another orgasm started to well up inside of her, knowing that it would leave a nice creamy colour ring around his cock, make a mess out of his brief, make a mess out of him. To mark him like he did her was something that made her brain throb in time with her cunt.

But yet he stopped, Laci whining as his lips moved away from her own. Firmly pressed, she could feel him stretching her, making her take his cock like the good girl while denying her of what she needed the most. She may have came so many times around his fingers already, but she needed him to make her cum around his cock, to make her milk him dry and take his seed deep inside of her womb where it would have no other choice but to make her big and round again.

“Francis.” The tears had begun to collect on her eyes again, feeling them well up as her husband leaned away, standing over her and admiring her pathetic form spread out for him. She could see the way he licked his lips, the slightest amount of drool escaping from the corner of his mouth as he throbbed and twitched inside of her. “Please…”

“Why should I give you what you want?” Francis’s words drove her back to reality, the icy cold way he spoke sending shivers down her spine, ones that fought against the burning need for him inside of her. “Come on, I know you can talk.”

How cruel, making her beg, making her whine, but yet she was too far gone in the pleasure to let it escape from her now; she needed him, she craved him, she wanted him more than anything in the world. “I’m sorry!”

“For what?”

“For…” It felt like bile against the back of her throat as she welled up the words in her mouth; she didn’t want to say them, she didn’t want to speak them, but yet she knew that if she wanted to get her way she needed to give into what he wanted. “For being angry at you.”

“And?” And what? What else could she have to apologise for?

Pressing her lips into a firm line, she could feel her own crow’s feet crinkle as she sighed, “And for accusing you of cheating.”

“Good girl.”

Her toes curled as he pulled himself out to the tip to slam himself back in again, her head thrown back in the pursuit of pleasure as her hips joined in with his movements, begging him deeper, begging him harder. She needed him, she needed him so bad, and to have him inside of her was like heaven. His hands all over her body, the way he hit those spots inside of her, Laci’s arms looped around Francis’s shoulders as he leaned down for another kiss, squeezing him against her as she felt her end come like a tidal wave.

Fast, and abrupt, she held onto Francis as she rode out her high, feeling him hold her just as close as he eased her through it. “That’s right,” she heard him mutter into her ear, his breath hot and hard against her skin as he slowed down his face, “Just like that, just for me.” Just for him, only for him. She felt so full, so satisfied, her breaths evening out as they slowly came to a halt on the table, the only sounds that came from the two were soft laughter and mutters.

“I love you so much…” Laci’s fingers traced at his jawline, collecting sweat that had slowly begun to cool.

“I too, love you.” As his face burrowed itself into her neck, Laci couldn’t help but let out giggles as his stubble tickled at her overstimulated skin, hearing the way his own chest rumbled against hers as they lay there, connected and satisfied.

The time passed quickly once they had decided to clean themselves up, the two lovers helping each other up the stairs, Laci once more dressed in her clothing — minus her underwear — as they were left in the laundry with the rest of the clothes that needed washing in the morning.

“So,” Laci began, her voice soft as they ascended the stairs, hand in hand with her husband, “why did you come home so late?” Even in the dark, she could see the way his eyes softened, how his fingers gripped her hand tight as he pulled her hand to his mouth, gently kissing each knuckle.

“I was busy making sure everything was going to be perfect for tomorrow… I’m sorry baby, I didn’t think me getting the time off would be so impactful.” Time off? He had asked for time off to spend with them? She could feel her heart beat against her rib cage as she drank in the look he gave her, especially as she embraced him in a hug, her face burying itself in her chest.

How could she be so blind to the idea that he was just making sure things would be perfect? To have let her worry and jealousy get a hold of her to such an extent was something she had never thought of — it had almost made her blinded with it. Hearing his heartbeat in his chest, the rumble of a chuckle that came from it too, she closed her eyes as she stood on the step with him, just savouring his heat in her own.

“Mama…?” Aydin’s voice drifted down the stairs, Laci’s eyes adjusted enough to the dark to see his little form at the top, a teddy bear clutched in his arm as he stared down at the two of them, “why are you cuddling on the stairs?”

“We just had an argument, we’re just saying sorry.” Francis’s voice jumped in before she could say anything, letting her husband go as she watched him approach their son, picking him up with ease and placing him on his hip, “you want some water, bud?”

With a soft nod, Laci had to stop her heart melting right there as she watched him bury his head into his father’s shoulder. “Not too much, we don’t want you waking up to use the toilet again.”

“Daddy’s home?”

The lights flickered on as two more faces peered through the banister, Elian and Keon staring down at their parents and brother as if they had surprised them with the best gift. Even if their faces were grinning, even if they were giggling amongst themselves, Laci’s eyes flickered to the clock as she read the time.

“What are you boys doing up?”

With the way their faces drew pale at the question, she knew that they knew they were caught. As Francis took Aydin to get his water, Laci ascended the stairs, taking each of her boy’s hands into her own as she gently lead them back to their room. Eyeing the lamp that was on, the book that laid open on one of their beds, she couldn’t blame them for wanting to read.

“You two should be asleep by now, you’ll sleep the day away otherwise.” She muttered as she tucked her boys away, making sure their feet were in tight as her husband came back in, Aydin already asleep on his shoulder. To watch him tuck their son in, to pull those bed sheets to his chin, she couldn’t help but smile as she watched her boys.

She wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

#fnaf smut #smut #five nights at freddy's smut #commissioned fic #commission fic #fnaf x oc smut #nightmare freddy #freddles #nightmare freddy x oc

[nariism]

another sunny day — i. rin

handcuffed together + matchmaking gone wrong

synopsis. rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. or: blue lock tries to play matchmaker with a flustered loser and their terribly unfriendly teammate.

wc. ~1.1k

— for @jenoutof10 🤞 | event masterlist ✉️

"don't be mad, but..."

rin's eye twitches.

4 words. 4 measly words is all it takes for his blood pressure to start rising. that, and the fact that isagi can't meet his bloodthirsty gaze.

in all the time that he's had the displeasure of knowing these morons, he's come to know one simple fact: nothing good ever happens when they break news starting with 'don't be mad'.

before his teammates can even get a chance to explain further, rin interjects.

"you lost it, didn't you? you fucking lost it."

bachira's lips just press into a thin line, mischief missing from his expression where it usually permanently dances. now, he just looks utterly terrified and a little guilty.

"hey, but there are worse people to be cuffed to!" bachira nervously states. and at that, all eyes land on you.

you'd been hoping that maybe rin's temperment would have drawn all attention away from you right now—that they at least wouldn't have to witness the absolute despair in your face realizing you've been cuffed to your long-term crush for an indefinite amount of time.

but their eyes are heavy on you, trying to scrutinize your reaction. you want nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

the chains connecting you jingle impossibly loud as silence fills the room. you flounder slightly, caught off guard by the collective weight of everyone's eyes, and rin seems to understand how dire your situation is. he quickly gathers everyone's attention back to himself.

"you all better crawl on your hands and knees until you find that fucking key."

to think that an entire group of people could have gone through with something so stupid—rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. handcuffing the two of you together as a last ditch attempt to solve the last puzzle of their escape room? he would probably be laughing at their idiocy if he wasn't the one locked to your side right now.

and why him, of all people? was it so obvious that he was maybe, kind of, sort of a little into you? no, impossible. he's incredibly good at hiding his feelings for you, so much that he's completely stone-faced while you're busy panicking beside him.

what should have been an innocent team-building exercise put together by their calm and collected manager has suddenly turned you into a blithering fool and him into a cranky asshole.

he'd always had suspicions that you'd liked him, never able to look him straight in the eye without fidgeting and messaging him out of the blue for seemingly insignificant reasons. ("did you try the new garigari-kun flavour?" or "i saw this cat that reminded me of you," and even "did you eat dinner yet?")

if you had told his teammates, you made a grave error. a fatal mistake. because they were all half-wits who would want nothing more than to try playing cupid, and he knows that only they could come up with a plan so stupid and still claim it to be foolproof.

frantically searching for the key, they get to work scouring the floor and drawers—anywhere they could have left it in the last twenty minutes. he takes the opportunity to focus on his breathing, as his therapist had advised him to do when he was feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

"you okay?" rin asks quietly, lathering a hand down his face in exasperation. you hum nervously, clutching yourself instinctively. it draws his hand closer to your body but he doesn't mention it, instead letting it dangle limply in front of you. the warmth emanating from you makes him realize just how frazzled you are.

he decides he should guide you to the next room where it's quieter, all the puzzles already solved and abandoned. he sits you down on the sofa, standing in front of you with your hands connected in the middle.

"what if we're locked together forever?" you murmur.

rin looks at you in confusion, perplexed by your sudden loss of functioning brain cells. you were always so rational, it's strange to see you so...

you meet his intense stare and the rest of his train of thought derails into a disastrous dumpster fire.

"i... don't think that'll happen."

"but what if we are?"

"there are worse people i could be locked to."

silence suffocates you. rin blinks at you, but doesn't back down as you fumble over your own tongue.

"you think so?" you finally manage out.

god almighty, you need to break this eye contact before he shrivels up and dies. okay, so maybe his feelings for you aren't entirely miniscule, but that doesn't mean he's going to get any enjoyment out of this.

he scoffs, gesturing to the next room. "at least it's you and not them."

you sputter in embarrassment, hand yanking toward your face as you try and cover your cheeks with your palms. his hand follows, nearly smacking you in the nose but you don't seem to care or even notice.

he slowly seats himself beside you, dragging your conjoined hands back between your bodies and settling on the couch.

"i hate this," you admit. "it feels claustrophobic."

rin knows exactly what you mean. your hand is inches away from being in his—he can hardly breathe. he would rather eat natto every day for the rest of his life than come to terms with that, though, so instead he just sneers at you funny.

"you have claustrophobia?"

"i just mean that we're so close right now."

"so?"

you gulp loudly. "and—" you sigh, breaths shaking. "well, you're sort of right. i guess it could be worse."

"...you're weird," he tells you.

your lips quirk up into a tiny smile, so small that he would have missed it if he weren't chained to your side right now. for a moment, he almost forgets all about why he's even in this situation in the first place.

"sorry," you stammer, fingers fumbling around with the hem of your sweater. "i hope they find that key soon."

he stares at you for a few more seconds, tries to trace the outline of your face with his eyes and memorize the curve of your smile.

"yeah," he lies. "me too."

("is it working?"

"i don't know, i can't hear them!"

"shh," chigiri hisses. "i'm trying to listen!"

rin puts his head into his hands at their volume, bringing your hand along with his motion. he glares in their direction, catching a glimpse of his team stacked on top of each other as they peer into the room.

"idiots..." he mutters. you look at him, puzzled. "i'm surrounded by idiots.")

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

#— whispers in the wind: 1k event ✉️ #so remember when i said i would be out of commission for a bit #that was a fucking lie #blue lock #bllk #blue lock fluff #blue lock drabbles #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #bllk fic #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock fic

[cybercl0ne]

6-1 // army x f!reader

Summary: you get trapped in an elevator with 6 hot masked men, what could go wrong?

Tw: gangbang, double penetration, pure porn, 18+, vaginal penetration, anal penetration, no jimmy, creampies (possible impreg?), squirting, degradation, Cum. Everywhere. Multiple orgasm.

You were running late. Like really late and you knew rushing up 10 flights of stairs was not happening. You decided to call for the elevator instead, guessing that your boss would cut you some slack depending on your excuse.

As you elevator ringed, the rusty, grinding wires weary hilt in front of you, opening the door to welcome you only to see 6 masked men standing, staring blankly at you, waiting for you to get on. You feel flushed at how weirdly attractive these men looked, their gear making them look buffed and their faces covered by black mask, only keeping their majestic eyes available.

They hold the elevator for you, steeping on you squirm in a small circle around them, they give you space like you were foreign to them. “Thanks guys.” You nervously laugh, going immediately silent as you feel their eyes soften, a glint of unknown lust festering as well. “No problem little lady.” One says seductively, eyeing you, keeping contact as you stand in awe at how his voice rumbled through you. You nod, and hold your head down, trying to make the high tension settle down. All hell breaks loose when the elevator suddenly stops and you drop your smartphone, bending down to reach it, unintentionally giving a show to the men around you. Your skirt hiking up just barely before your ass, showing a corner of your colorful panties. One of them whistle another fall into line with sounds of amusement, one in front of you, you caught readjusting his clear hard on.

“My god, what a nice view..~” one calls out, the others joining in a laugh. Your body felt warm, your lower body growing in heat as these hot men surround you, ready to pounce.

“we’re you just waiting for us to jump on you little lamb?” Another questions. One wraps their hand around your waist, feeling your hips up and down, staring into your eyes for approval. As soon as you give your small nod and whimper the men ravenge you.

“You dirty little slut, getting on an elevator, waiting for someone like us to come along to destroy your little body.” They spit out, gripping your ass, one groping at your tits, pooling them out of your bra. You squeal as you feel your cunt getting more needy, your panties getting sticky with your slick. One of them proceed you rip your professional tights, another man going in for a kiss, staring their deep brown eyes into yours, kneeding your clothed clit as the others worked to get the rest of your articles of clothing out of the way, whipping their own cocks out. “grab my cock you little bitch!” A blue eyes one demands, his heavy British accent making you moan. “Look at her. She’s enjoying getting manhandled! Get my cock in her mouth, see if she’s smiling then?” He slaps your face, slapping his cock on your face. You poke your tongue out, focused on the pre that sticks to your cheek as he slaps it deeper onto your skin, groaning, rubbing it up and down your lips, teasing you.

“I’m gonna taste this sweet cunt, I just know it’s wet and ready for me~” a slim yet buff man replied, stroking his own cock as he rips your panties straight off, his gloved finger glazing your tight hole, his warm and slimy tongue taking its place. “Put your fucking hand on my cock, bitch!” One yells in another heavy accent, his cock way to big to fit in your hand, you attempt to grasp onto his cock, sliding your hand back and forth, your eyes rolling back as you choke down another man’s cock, his hairs prickling your nose as he stuffs himself deep. You clench around nothing as your pussy gets demolished. Feeling yourself on the edge of squirting, you scream out your moan through getting your throat pounded while fisting 2 other men’s cocks.

“Oh the little girls getting close!” The man attending to your cunt stops, and announces. Erupting a slap and a laugh from everyone. Slaps to your ass, face and pussy. You squirm as your climax was so close, them teasing you by slapping around your poor aching pussy. “Awe, baby girl wants to cum? Do you wanna cum baby?” One man says, pampering your face with kisses, his stubble tickling your face. Unable to speak with your cock stuffed mouth you nod.

“Use your fucking words baby.. what do you want? Tell daddy so he can give it to you…” he whines, using his now ungloved fingers to rub up and down your slit, his thumb grazing your clit.

The man pops his cock out of your mouth, shifting to your tits, as 3 other men use your hands and thighs. “p-please.. p-please let me cum!” You yelp, begging with teary half lidded eyes. As you beg you stick out your tongue for a man that jerks his cock over your face, his eyes squinting, telling you he’s close. He moans and finally shoots his hot cum out all over your face, it splurting on your open tongue and one of your eyes. The rest of the men join in, cumming on different parts of your body. One man slapping his cock on your ass, cumming alongside it. Another letting it out on your hands. The man that was in charge of your pussy starts up, tonging you until you feel that white peak, clenching around his slithering tongue, his ball-shaped piercing hitting your clit just right. “C-cumming!” You yell, shaking intensely as you squirt all over the bottom man’s face. The biggest man, lifts you up between your orgasm, making your squirt spray everywhere, drenching the boys as the big man lines himself up with your small, tight pussy, his cock twitching as it meshes in your juices, tapping lightly on your cunt.

“That’s a good girl, letting it rain like a fountain baby!” The man says, kissing your agape mouth. You feel like you’ve been fucked dumb even though you know that these men have just started their satisfaction. You looked down, seeing the big man’s cock, you immediately started to realize that he was the biggest for a reason. His cock twitched at the attention. The men laughed.

“To big for you princess?”

“Gotta make sure to stuff you nice and good honey…”

“I can’t wait to get a taste of that.” all around the men were commenting. Some with sweet replies, others with want and need, they all wanted a piece of you, rubbing their cocks in unison as the big man inches you down on his fat dick.

“N-no! I-it won’t fit!~” you screech, feeling your cunt being slip apart by the big man. “So…damn…tight…” the big man whispers in your ear, moaning heavily. “gonna stuff you so full of my seed that your stomach will grow.” He chuckles deeply, while bottoming out, stuffing you all the way down that you can’t even make a noise at first, only broken moans as your tits bounced from the recoil.

“She’s loving it! Look at her face, she can’t even process how fucked dumb she’s getting!” One points out, stroking his cock harder. “Careful, we don’t want her to break too easily~” another one joins in, groaning at the show he was getting. You felt your insides being rearranged, putting your hand to your stomach, you feel the bulge that dives in and out ever time the man harshly pumps his cock in and out of you. You heave and huff through it, bending your head back to kiss his groaning lips. As you make out with the man with his mask halfway up you feel his rhythm only growing more sloppy and harder, your tits flopping around uncontrollably as he pounds you.

“don’t take all the fun, let me enjoy that sweet cunt!” One interjects, closing into your face, smirking. The big man that was currently demolishing your insides laughs and suddenly stops, popping his cock out of your pussy. You whimper at the sudden empty feeling of his warm twitching cock not blanketing your cunt.

“Don’t worry sweet girl, you’ll be double stuffed in a minute.” You squirm at the tone and way he said it, looking in your eyes, kissing your lips deeply as he adjust himself to your pussy, the big man aiming at your ass, still holding you up.

“Sure you can take it little lamb?” A background man adds, coming up to you, using your bent thighs to stroke his cock. Another one tags along to your other thigh, some staying back, enjoying their front row seats to the show.

Both of the men that stood at your holes entered in at the same time causing you to yell out, tightening and clenching as he tore through your ass while the other guy played through your cunt, fighting his way to your cirvix.

“S-so tight! God damn, you’re gonna break my cock off princess!” He adds, pumping his long hard dick inside you, the big guy rutting deeper inside you. You felt your holes getting violated, being stretched and feeling the searing pain and pressure from them, your stomach showing a faint bulge once again. Juices started to pour out of you, your moans filling the air as they grunted, pounding your holes at an unholy pace.

“p-please n-no… I-I’m gonna break! I-I can’t take it.. w-wanna cum!” You huffed out, feeling yourself getting lost. The rest of the men grunted and moaned, some mixed laughs as they felt themselves getting close to. “don’t worry baby I-I’m close to!” The man pounding your asshole shouts, nibbling on your neck as the one destroying your weeping, leaking pussy grunts in approval, heading toward the same climax. As you feel yourself being overstimulated, drawing to close to cumming they both cum at the same time, both your ass and cunt getting pumped full of hot milky cum. You felt yourself tipping over the edge but as soon as he popped out of you another man entered you, finishing inside you as well.

“We all gotta take turns cumming in that pretty cunt~” one man says, exiting your warm, clenching pussy as another enters in, thumping inside you, unloading his hot seed. You felt your stomach about to burst as you also felt your cunt driving over the edge, your legs going limp as your eyes rolled back.

as the last man came inside you, you reached your climax, squirting a ton, pushing some of the fresh hot cum out with it. The men kissed all over your fucked out body, whispering sweet words into your ear, breast, thighs, and neck. You giggled, mind fucked and still squirting, coming down from the long high as the elevator finally opened. “That was fun, I hope we can do it again sometime~” the big man said, climbing out of the elevator with the rest of his friends who already readjusted themselves while you laid, displayed and completely fucked out on the elevator floor.

#yandere #yanderecore #fanfic #cybercl0ne #commission #masked men #masked man #mask kink #face mask #my fic #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #smut #x reader #female reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod x reader #mw2

[charliemwrites]

Guilty By Association Commission from the very sweet and patient @soleilak

You (Callsign: Giggles, Gigs for short) are a medic on temporary assignment with the 141. The only problem? You're a former member of Graves' Shadow Company.

Content: Injury, angst, power imbalance, fingering and oral (reader receiving)

“Get your arse in gear, Gigs!”

Already exhausted and aching, the rough bark of your temporary captain urges your heavy feet faster. Gunfire sprays all around – you’re so addled you can’t tell if it’s enemy or friendly. All you know are your orders, a cry of survival in the uneven pounding of your heart. A bullet plows into the ground dangerously close to your foot.

Just a few meters ahead, Gaz curses and tumbles to the ground, hat lost. It’s not even a decision to alter your course. You can’t tell instantly what the damage is; if he’s been hit or just tripped. So you tuck and dive, grabbing an arm and leg as your back rolls across his chest. The momentum gets the two of you up and moving again, adrenaline taking the edge off his weight.

“Get us to the trees and I can run again!” he shouts in your ear.

You settle your blurry vision on the forest line ahead. Blessed cover – and your extraction point just a mile further. Goal set, you push through the pain of bruised ribs, a wrenched arm, and the ricochet of a bullet across your thigh. You wheeze your way well past the tree line, weaving between trunks until Kyle’s palm smacks at your side.

“We’re good, we’re good,” he says.

You grunt as you set him down, give him the quickest onceover in the history of medics. His calf is bleeding, just above the tops of his boots. It’s an ugly wound; it’ll need packing – but he can survive until exfil.

“Where the fuck are you two?!” Price growls through your headset.

Kyle pats your shoulder and takes off again, only the slightest limp indicating his injury. You grit your teeth and try to follow his example.

No one helps you into the chopper when you’re the last on the ladder. You’re not surprised, but it still stings. Salt on the day’s wounds.

Once the heli is up in the air, you scoot over to help Kyle with the wound on his calf. It’s almost hypnotic, the press-wind-press-wind of packing the deep gouge. Almost like unspooling your own tension through the care of a teammate. Every inch of bandage seems to amplify your own pains, though, as the mission high ebbs.

You hurt.

When Kyle’s done, you sit back a bit to assess him for any other wounds. The twitch of his mouth and slight bob of his head tells you he’s sorted, though – and it’s more thanks than you usually get.

“Where the hell were you?” Price demands.

“I got held up, sir,” you admit. Had been ambushed by two men you thought were on another floor. Bad luck, that. Or just poor preparation on your part. Your side twinges as you ease yourself into a seat. “Won’t happen again.”

Price grunts, mollified. “See that it doesn’t.”

You get maybe thirty seconds of peace before Soap’s voice cuts through the tentative peace.

“Gonnae take care o’ that or keep bleedin’ all over Nik’s seat?” he teases. Or at least it would be, if not for the sharp glint in his eyes.

What’s that saying about sins of the father? Well, Phillip Graves was definitely not your father, nor was General Shepherd – though he was old enough to be. In their absence, it seems you’re paying for their crimes regardless.

“Right,” you sigh, tearing off the bottom of your shirt, “sorry, Nik.”

“Just stay alive to clean it up, eh?” he replies jovially.

It’s not much of a joke, but you laugh anyway. You don’t live up to your callsign much nowadays, so you’ll take the levity when you can.

You tie off the makeshift bandage with a grunt and lean your head back, too uncomfortable to doze off.

At least the infirmary is a friendly sight. The staff are always grateful for an extra set of hands – even if they once belonged to a Shadow. And you have a lot of time to help since you’re not encouraged (never mind invited) to any non-professional activities with the 141. Working with the nurses during all that extra time has gained you some friends at least.

Dana is on call when you limp in. She fusses about you looking like the walking dead – then goes on to tell regale you with details from her current first-time watch of the show. The stream of words soothes you in the quiet little treatment room.

“Think we need an x-ray, dove?” she asks, prodding at your already discolored ribs.

“Wouldn’t help,” you sigh, “we can just wrap ‘em and call it.”

“Alright, dear, but you know what to do if it gets worse.”

“’Course,” you answer, summoning a grin, “can’t be keelin’ over before your nephew leaves that tart.”

“Oh, don’t even get me started – you know what she said at Sunday dinner?”

You giggle through her undoubtedly embellished story until she gets to your thigh – and the terrible bandaging.

“A piece of your shirt,” she scolds.

“My bag was too far, and my ribs hurt,” you complain.

“And what are all those big burly men for then, eh?” she huffs.

You shake your head. “I can’t ask them to help.”

Dana scowls past your hip. “Just because you’re the medic—”

“Pardon.”

You jolt in surprise at Captain Price in the doorway. Christ, he takes up the breadth of it too, shoulders brushing the jamb on either side. Even mission-dirty and stern-looking, he’s a hell of a welcome sight – though an unexpected one.

You try to sit up at some semblance of attention, but he waves you off. Can’t say you’re not grateful, unable to help wincing as you lie back.

You don’t notice him pause as Dana washes the wound, too busy sucking air through your nose.

“What’s… the damage?” he asks carefully.

You open your mouth to answer, but Dana beats you to it.

“Contused ribs, sprained shoulder, and a bullet wound to the thigh,” she rattles off. You’re always impressed by the undercurrent of disapproval and accusation she manages to weave into each word. “Not to mention dehydration and sleep deprivation. You’ve been staying up again, haven’t you?”

You clear your throat and turn your eyes skywards. “Oh, look at the ceiling. What a lovely ceiling.”

She clicks her tongue and begins packing the wound as you had for Gaz.

“Bullet wound?” Price asks sharply. Your eyes flick guiltily to him. “Why the hell am I hearing about this now?”

“It’s just a graze, sir,” you reply. “Sergeant Garrick’s was worse.”

His jaw does that thing you secretly (ashamedly) drool over, where it tightens and jumps. You know it’s not good but hey, silver linings right?

He doesn’t ream you out though. Just crosses his burly arms and lets out a long, heavy breath. You’re… not really sure what that means.

“Debrief at 0700 tomorrow, Gigs,” he says, voice unusually subdued.

“Yessir,” you reply dutifully.

As always, a strange mix of relief and disappointment twists in your chest as he walks away. Talking to him is a bit like being under a microscope – if that microscope was ready to brand you a low-down, no-good, dirty, rotten traitor at the first hint of suspicious activity.

You get it, you do. Graves and Shadow Company tried to kill Soap and Ghost, Los Vaqueros, and committed unspeakable atrocities. As much history as you had with him, he deserved what came to him, and Shepherd will deserve the same when he’s found.

Not that your hands were clean before Las Almas, but you drew the line when the orders came. Couldn’t bear to detain or shoot the friends you’d made in Los Vaqueros, or join the hunting party for Soap and Ghost. You’d been labelled a turncoat by your own teammates, thrown into a cell to be “court-martialed.”

Kate Laswell coming to your rescue was a second chance, a small-time miracle that you’ve been determined to earn ever since. In your more pathetic moments, usually in the small, dark, lonely hours of sleepless nights, you wonder how much it will take. How long you’ll be guilty by association.

At least this isn’t shaping up to be one of those nights. You’re half asleep by the time Dana sends you off, arm chilly from the IV fluids she bullied you into. For once, you might get a few decent hours.

Your second surprise of the night comes just outside your barracks door. Soap is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, head back and eyes closed. Awake, though. His index finger is tapping a steady but rapid pace on his bicep.

“Soap?” you say, alerting him. “Did you… need me for something? You’re not injured, are you?”

He straightens up, drops his arms to his side. You pause a noticeable distance away, uncertainty leashing you to the safety of space. Not that you feel threatened. His posture is the loosest it’s been around you since… well, since before Las Almas went to hell.

“’Course no’, I woulda – tha’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh…” You process the strange wording. “Why are you here, then?”

He shifts his weight, a little line appearing between his brows as he seems to gather himself.

“I’m here to apologize.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Look, what I said during exfil – it was bang outta order. You’ve been nothin’ but good to us ‘n I’m still holdin’ on to old shite.”

You shift, adjust the stupid flimsy sling for your sore shoulder. “It’s… not that old,” you reason, “and I don’t blame you, either. Not after everything.”

“Still, ya did the right thing back then – and ya’ve proven yourself half a dozen times over, besides. I’ve got no reason to treat you like an enemy.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. It feels like you’ve swallowed a grenade; any moment the pin is going to come out and an explosion of gory emotion will splatter the walls.

“Thanks, Soap.”

He grunts something about “not thanking him” and ducks his head, shuffling past you.

“Seriously,” you say, voice strained from keeping it even. “I really appreciate it.”

He pauses, gives you a genuinely kind look. “Rest up, lass.”

It’s the best you’ve slept in a long while – after you cry into your pillow, that is.

At 0700 the next day, you’re in Price’s office, sore but in high spirits. Gaz sat next to you and Soap said good morning at breakfast. Even Ghost seemed less frosty than usual, grunting at you in acknowledgement when you’d sat down.

Of course, the good luck couldn’t last.

The debrief itself is fine. You speak when it’s your turn, listen when it isn’t. About as normal as it gets for a special ops squad.

It’s as the rest of the task force is filing out the door that the other shoe drops.

“Gigs, a word,” Price calls.

You freeze mid-step, shoot Gaz a panicky glance. He glances over your shoulder, snorts, and pats your arm in solidarity. Not as helpful as he thinks.

With a deep breath, you pivot back around. The door closes behind you with a damning click. You can’t even hide your hands behind your back to fidget at parade rest – your arm needs to stay in the sling for the rest of the day.

“We need to discuss yesterday,” Price says, palms flat on his desk.

You tilt your head. Wasn’t that what the debrief was for?

“Sir?” you ask. “If I – did I do something wrong?”

He deflates a bit, big shoulders dropping before he pushes himself up and rounds the desk.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” he explains, “but I have concerns.”

When he gestures for you to take one of the visitor seats, you do. You’re a bit surprised when he takes the other – though you can’t help an appreciative glance while his attention is elsewhere. He practically dwarfs the stupid little chair, and the way he spreads his thighs trying to get comfortable…

“Concerns, sir?” you parrot, trying to corral your scrambled braincells.

“What you said in the infirmary,” he begins, expression solemn, “is that really how you feel?”

“What I said…?” You try to recall anything of note from last night, but most of what came out of your mouth is a blur at best. “What did I say?”

He leans forward, lacing his scarred fingers together. You try not to stare, though the way he rubs at the knuckle of one thumb with the other is distracting. It’s an unusual gesture for the disciplined, determined man you’ve been honored to call captain for months now.

“That you can’t ask us to help you.”

A block of ice drops into your stomach.

“That’s not – I know you guys would help me if I needed it,” you hurry to say.

He gives you a long look. “Then why don’t you ever ask? You were shot and didn’t say a bloody thing.”

You shift, unable to meet his eyes. Can’t find the words to answer. It’s not that you didn’t think you could ask. It just didn’t feel right with the bad blood between you, Soap, and Ghost. Besides, you’re the medic, you’re supposed to be the one fixing everyone else – not the other way around. What use are you otherwise?

You try to explain this to Price, but you sense (from the grim set to his handsome features) that it’s not helping.

“I’ve been a shite captain to you, haven’t I?” he sighs.

You jump. “No, sir! You’re a great captain. I trust you with my life.”

He chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor. Sounds almost self-deprecating.

“I’ve not done a bloody thing to earn it.”

You shake your head. “Sir, you’ve kept me alive for months now. That’s plenty.”

Beyond that, he’s always been fair with you. Doesn’t give you shit assignments or the most dangerous roles in missions. Always makes sure you’re alive and accounted for. Calls you out for mistakes and faults, sure, but it’s for the sake of you and everyone else. He’s been just as ready to pat your shoulder for a clever maneuver or praise a good shot.

“You know damn well it’s not,” he scolds.

You huff, almost amused. “Sir, with all due respect, get off the cross we need the wood.”

His eyebrows jump up nearly to his hairline. Normally, you wouldn’t dream of being so cavalier with Price of all people. Soap’s truce last night gives you the confidence to continue.

“I know you didn’t trust me as a former Shadow at first,” you say, “but you looked out for me anyway. After the first few missions… it seemed like things evened out.”

He sighs and sits back, running a hand down his face.

“Laswell vouched for you – it’s the only reason I didn’t send you right back on that plane,” he admits. A small but genuine smile curls his mouth. “And then you put your life on the line for my boys time and time again.”

You mirror him, the tension in your shoulders easing away with each word.

“I knew things weren’t great with the others, but I thought it was best if I kept out of it. Let you lot sort it out so long as you all cooperated when it mattered,” he continues. “I didn’t realize how bad it got, and that’s on me. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and lightly tap your boot against his. “It wasn’t the wrong call, sir. I think things are going to get better from here on out.”

He hums, eyes searching your gentle smile for any hint of insincerity. But you believe it, and it must show, because his eyes crinkle as he smiles back.

“Speaking of better,” he says, clearing his throat. “Mind if I take a look at those ribs? Dana had some choice words for me this morning.”

You giggle and tug your shirt from your waistband, hiking the hem up high to show the reddish-purple mottling all over your left side. Price makes a noise of sympathy, easing out of his chair to the carpeted floor. On his knees, he inches closer, leaning in to inspect the damage.

“How’d this happen?” he asks, voice lowering.

His fingertips skim over the edges of the bruises, featherlight. Your voice gets strangled in your throat as tingles race across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Um, hostile kicked me. A lot.”

His eyes flick up to yours, hard as ice. “Dead?”

“Yessir.”

His gaze softens, a proud, smug quirk to his lips. “Atta girl.”

You can’t fully suppress a shiver. It’s not just the gentle, considerate touches. It’s the purring praise from a man you’ve admired and harbored a sizeable crush on.

“Cold?” he asks.

This is your chance to wave it off. To pretend you are not so inappropriately infatuated with a man you thought only tolerated you until a minute ago. A little white lie, you could smooth your shirt back down, and be on your way.

But you don’t want to do that. Not really.

And from the way his pupils are slowly, steadily subsuming his irises, neither does he.

“No, sir,” you whisper.

His slow exhale caresses across your tender ribs.

“Then would you be comfortable if I checked on your ‘little graze’ as well?” It’s a tease, but also a genuine check of your boundaries. Another out, freely and openly given, that only solidifies your resolve to see where he’s going with this.

“Yessir,” you answer, shifting to get at your belt.

Price tsks, though, big hands spreading across each thigh and urging you down again.

“Now, now, don’t aggravate that shoulder,” he murmurs. “Let me help like a good captain.”

You swallow back an embarrassing noise as deft hands unbuckle your belt, thumb the button of your pants open, and drag the zipper down tooth by tooth. His thick, warm forearms rest on your thighs the entire time, keep them spread to accommodate his wide shoulders. He’s in no rush to continue his “checkup,” toying along the length of your waistband before easing it down.

“Lift up for me, darling, there we are,” he murmurs. You gasp softly as his palms brush your ass while sliding your pants down. Then outright squeak as he squeezes a cheek in each hand, a low noise of admiration rumbling in his throat.

“Gorgeous girl,” he chuckles. “Gorgeous arse.”

Your face feels hot as he tugs your pants down to your ankles, though the square of gauze and tape on the back of your thigh is long revealed. It takes conscious effort not to squirm under his hot gaze, praying a wet spot isn’t already visible on your panties.

“Let’s just get this one free…” He works the pantleg over your boot, leaving the other pooled around the laces. “Now then.”

You bite into your lip as he hauls your calf up into his shoulder, propping your leg up to get a clear view of your thigh.

“Not bled through,” he notes, tracing the neat edges of the medical tape. “You’ve been taking good care of it. Well done.”

You can’t help the little twitch that evokes, your whole body reacting to the deep timbre of his voice. He’s not oblivious to his effect on you, a glint in his eye as his bristly jaw brushes the inside of your knee.

“T-told you, it wasn’t too bad,” you manage weakly.

He hums and your pussy clenches helplessly around nothing. His eyes flick down and you know it’s all over.

“And what about this, hm?” he asks. You whimper as his thumb skims the lace edge of your panties. “Have you been taking care of this?”

Flustered and yet so, so turned on, you can only shake your head. He coos in mock disappointment, rubbing slow circles across your labia, closer and closer to where you’re aching and needy.

“It’s alright sergeant,” he soothes, “your captain will take care of you.”

Except he only rubs you through your panties A maddening pressure back and forth along the wet seam of your cunt, never delving deeper. You break down in hardly any time at all.

“Sir, please,” you whine, wriggling. He’s quick to brace you still again, leisurely movements never faltering.

“Please what, darling?” he teases.

“I-I need…” You whimper with embarrassment, squeezing your eyes shut. “I need you to take care of me, please, captain.”

He practically growls as he tears through the hip of your panties, tossing them aside in a sodden heap on the ground. With two fingers, he parts your labia, eyes hungrily drinking in the cream shimmering between them.

“All this and I’ve barely touched you,” he rasps, awed.

You nearly sob with desperation for something, anything. He shushes your fussy little noises with his thumb, dipping into the pool of slick at your entrance. Gets the pad soaked before drawing a line up to your swollen, sensitive clit. Your mouth falls open as he starts drawing tight, firm circles over that bundle of nerves.

He treats your body and your pleasure with all the confidence and competence you’ve come to expect of John Price. It takes shockingly little time for him to learn just how to press, how fast to rub, the patterns and circuits that get your legs shaking. And that’s before he twists his wrist and sinks a finger inside you.

“Practically sucking me in, love,” he murmurs, petting at your walls. You shudder and wordlessly beg for more, rocking your hips. “Need another already, greedy girl?”

He doesn’t even wait for your nod before stuffing you with another, curling and scissoring, exploring. You keen as he finds a sweet, sensitive spot inside you and begins toying with it, his thumb still swiping relentlessly at your clit.

He settles into a rhythm that has you moaning and keening, the heel of your boot digging into his shoulder blade. All the while he showers you in praise and encouragement, the dirtiest compliments that make you clench down tightly on his hand. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending lit up with pleasure.

It’s builds and builds and builds, never quite cresting. You’re near tears when you moan his name, trying to find some leverage or angle to finally tip you over the edge.

“Do you need to cum, doll?”

“Yes, yes,” you cry, “please, sir, I wanna cum for you. Please, I’m s-so close.”

He hums, bracing your thigh with his free hand as he leans in. Your foggy brain doesn’t have enough time to process before he latches onto your clit and a third finger bullies into you. You wail. Your thigh twinges from the dull pressure of his shoulder, but the slight pain only adds a delicious edge to the pleasure.

His tongue swipes across your puffy clit once, twice, three times and you’re gone. You gush all over his hand, his beard, onto the chair. Your hips jerk as he works you over, fingers abusing your g-spot relentlessly despite how tightly you clamp down. Your body feels nuclear, nerves popping like firecrackers.

He only relents when the waves of ecstasy threaten to drown you in overstimulation. He eases his fingers from your twitchy hole, making room for him to lick you clean. It’s loud and obscene, yet there’s no room left for embarrassment anymore. You shiver and pant in the aftermath, your body unravelling into a puddle.

“Wh-what about you?” you ask as he begins straightening out your clothes. There’s an absolutely delectable-looking bulge in his fatigues that you’re dying to get your tongue on.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “If you want more –” (“I do.”) “- then you’ll have to wait until you’re healed up. Non-negotiable.”

You try to pout, but the effort is thwarted when he chucks you gently under the chin.

“C’mon, let’s have a lie down.”

He steadies you as you wobble to the couch off to the side, lying down first and letting you cuddle up between his legs. It’s a comfort more than you would have expected from a clandestine little triste, but you should know better than to doubt your captain. Head resting on his chest, you let yourself drift for a while, lulled by his fingers carding through your hair.

“Price…?” you ask after a while.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t do this just to… I dunno, make up for something, right?”

He huffs. “No, sweetheart. I’ve been arse over teakettle for a while. Staring like a complete muppet when you train.”

You hide a grin against his collarbone. “Good. I thought I’d have to start making things up for you to owe me.”

His chuckle rocks through you, and for the first time in a while, it feels a bit like home.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #commissioned work #john price x reader #captain john price #tf 141 #medic reader #former shadow reader

[masilvi]

Comic commission for @deinde-prandium for the @miraculers-for-ukraine drive, based on their fic “The Clark Kent Effect” 

🌸🌞 BONUS! a discarded sketch because he looks cute!

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanart #ml comic #adrinette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #lovesquare #fic rec #ml fanfiction #miraculous ladybug fanart #my art #slowly but surely finishing all my commission batches TTuTT #long post

[anotherwellkeptsecret]

Commission of AJ Constantine's fic Caramel Delight, which you can read here.

#my art #good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #commissioned work #fic rec #caramel delight