#crack the nut to get to the life force

[skywlker-sluvtt]

we know Anakin gets off on feeling like a pervert, can we get lil headcanons on that???

RAHHHHH OF COURSE BABY I LOVE PERVY ANI SM

i'm not joking when i say bro can watch me shower idc he's my everything <3

anakin x afab!reader nsfw below the cut warning: somnophilia, slight non-con?

➮ okay so like anakin is basically a stalker. we all know how scary he was at the beginning at aotc. "please don't look at me like that" "why not? 👁️👄👁️"

➮ he likes to watch. just watching you is fun. examining your body, memorising every curve and scar. watching helps him imagine what you look like naked. he goes feral when you expose any type of skin. he's like some victorian lad freaking out over an ankle.

➮ before a relationship with you, he has to be secretive about it. he can't just steal your panties out in the open right? that might scare you, it's just his dirty little secret. anakin likes dirty secrets, they make him feel gross and ashamed. makes him feel like he's a disgusting pervert, but he likes that feeling it makes him horny more than anything else.

➮ anakin glances over at the pile of washing in your basket. he was sure you didn’t even notice you left a pair of lacy panties on the top. they were taunting him, he needs to steal them. he knows it's gross and wrong. god knows if they're washed or not but he wanted to find out. anakin secretly hopes they aren't clean.

➮ he steals them quickly balling them up into his pocket for later. when later comes he's lying back on his bed pressing the crotch of the panties to his nose, inhaling your scent as he touches himself. edging his throbbing cock while he smells you, excitedly he moves them down and licks them too, and finds his new favourite taste. it's not long until the panties are covered in his saliva as he bucks his hips into his hand. anakin's basically cleaned your panties with how wet they are with spit. he feels so dirty afterwards but it was worth it cause he just had the best nut of his life

➮ it satisfies him to hear you ask where your panties are and he's like "oh i don't even know what your panties look like lol" as if they aren't under his pillow covered in jizz.

➮ when he's in a relationship with you it gets even worse and there's no choice but to encourage it. even though he has access to you at all times he'll peek through the crack in the bathroom door to watch you shower. you're not even aware of it until you hear his little whimpers as he touches himself. he loves the sight of soap dripping across your body, your skin glistening under the bright bathroom light. it's too good not to jack off too

➮ humping your pillows is another one of his favourites. burying his nose in your sheets to smell you as he snaps his hips into your pillow. he quietly begs, as if you're there. "please mommy, f-fuck i need you" to the point he's in tears. if you don't catch him he'll just put the pillow where it belongs covered in his cum. but his absolute favourite is when you do catch him and punish him for it😼

➮ he never really grows out of it. as the war continues he gets even worse. if he returns home from a mission late at night he likes to use you while you sleep

➮ resting a hand on your cheek as he takes his cock out of his pants. "i missed you my love" he whispers as he pumps his cock a few times. He pushes your top up until your boobs are out and he can feel them. "you won't mind right angel? haven't felt you in weeks" he moaned pressing feather-light kisses all down your chest while he took off your panties.

➮ he manipulates your body, using the force to keep you sedated as he jacks off over your bare frame. rubbing his cock over your cunt watching every movement you make. "such a slut, even in your sleep you want me so bad don't you?" he whispers. he ruts into your pussy desperately until you wake up confused. you know exactly what's happening looking up at your boyfriend. "m'sorry, m'sorry just need you. i've been craving you"

➮ it's okay though because it's anakin. he gets away with it cause he's pretty <3

#perv!anakin #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin smut #anakin imagine #star wars smut

[kairismess]

i just read somewhere that in japan after their graduation, the boys can give the second button of their uniforms to the girl they like as a confession (since the second button is the closest to the heart they say).

iwaizumi x reader maybe? dkcoknsmx 🫣

hearts' day 007.

in which iwaizumi gives you a little keepsake during graduation day.

"well... guess this is goodbye."

iwaizumi mumbles with a chuckle as he scratches the back of his head, forcing a wincing smile as he looks anywhere but your eyes. he's glad you came to see him during the graduation, he really thought you'd be saying goodbye to all your friends and celebrating with them that he'd never have the time to get to see you for this moment he's fantasized of ever since he got to meet you.

you smile up at him and chuckle under your breath. "suppose it is. or more like... 'see you real soon'?" you suggested with a bright smile, watching from underneath your eyelashes how flustered iwaizumi got at the prospect of seeing you again after high school. he was always a tough nut to crack, but when it came to you, he was like an open book; incredibly easy to read, and a joy to discover more about.

he chuckled lightly under his breath and shied away from your gaze. "suppose so..." he murmured hopefully, sounding a little more optimistic than he'd like to let on. you hear your friends calling your name from a distance, waiting for you to finish up your conversation with the spiky haired boy so you could all walk home together.

as you call back to them that you'd be down soon, iwaizumi interrupts you hastily, with a bashful look on his normally grumpy expression, his left hand fiddling with the second button of his uniform. "i... i can't let you leave yet, not without... this." he stammered, undoing the second button of his uniform, removing it entirely, and handing it to you.

the golden button shone under the setting sun behind you, and the falling cherry blossom petals surrounded you two in a flurry of light pink and whites. iwaizumi couldn't find the voice nor courage to tell you what he means by this, but you were a smart girl, of course you'd have an idea by now what he means to tell you.

"...i don't want this to be a goodbye." he mutters, his eyes filling with tears, but he blinks them away. you look up at him with a gentle warmth in your cheeks and soft eyes, starting to feel the same way as him–or maybe you always did, and right now, you finally came to terms that you didn't want to be without him after today, either.

you smiled once more, clutching the button he handed to you in your palm, and leaning over to kiss his cheek softly. the boy let out a small noise at the feeling of your lips making contact with his skin, making you giggle. "then, i'll see you again. you'd better not forget me, okay?" you said with a small voice, tears in your eyes.

iwaizumi's green orbs widened, and he nodded, trying to look strong for you so you wouldn't cry. you two parted with a hug, with the spiky haired boy clutching you for a while longer, for a bit tighter, hoping that today won't be the final time you two would see each other.

maybe life had other plans, maybe the universe was brewing up some bigger schemes for you two, maybe there will come a time where there will be people in your life to distract you, but... there will always be him, and to him, there will always be you.

and wherever you are... he'll always be with you, so long as you keep that little keepsake from his uniform, his heart will always be beating for you and within your reach.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi fanfiction #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi hajime x y/n #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fanfic #hq #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #hq iwaizumi #hq imagines #hq fanfic #hq fanfiction #hq fluff #hq fic #haikyuu x fem!reader

[pathetic-sapphic]

You write for The Arcana right (・・。)ゞ

Could you do Asra, Julian, and Nadia reacting to teasing from an MC who’s more on the dominant side, and likes to take initiative?

And how will they are to give up control in the bedroom?

ASRA

They love when you take initiative and show your dominant side. Asra is very sly and will act bratty if you're into that too. They will try to tease you back and act all smug but as soon as they're forced into a corner with your thigh between their legs, their face takes on such a lovely shade of red.

Always used to being the more affectionate and loving one, Asra's weak spot is undoubtedly you and the love you give him. If instead of being rough you take on a more soft and affectionate approach, he's taken aback. Start softly kissing all over his face while caressing his fluffy hair, worship his body and praise him. You can feel how his half of the heart is overflowing with love and want.

Has a hard time letting you take the initiative because they love pleasing you and making you feel good. You have to do your best to help them relax but a simple ''Be good and let me take care of you, baby.'' is enough to make Asra relax and let you use their body to your heart's content.

JULIAN

Congrats, you two are perfect for each other! Might as well get married now and save everyone the embarrassment from having to witness the two of you being all over each other wherever you go.

Julian loves your dominant nature, we already know he is very submissive and flirty. He'll try to tease you first but it's game over as soon as you tease back. Your sultry voice and alluring look make him all hot under the collar and it's so endearing to you.

Loves having all your attention on him, he's so responsive and whiny that, frankly, it's adorable. Tries to be very good for you but his impatience makes it hard. Luckily, it's quite easy putting him in his place, a stern look or a light pinch to his hip should do the trick.

Very pliant and well-behaved, Julian loves following orders and worshipping you. He wants to hear you praise him and know that he's making you feel good. Isn't above initiating things while the two of you are in a public place, he craves the thrill of almost getting caught.

NADIA

Nadia is a tougher nut to crack as she is used to being the one in control and the dominant one. It will take a while for her to get used to you taking the initiative and it's more like a battle for dominance. When people witness the two of you flirting and teasing one another, they think you're bantering because it just seems so competitive but in a good way.

Eventually, Nadia will grow more comfortable with your dominant display and will let you take care of her. She likes being worshipped and service so be prepared to give her lots and lots of attention. However, she will always return it to the best of her abilities. Might even be a bit naughty when she's making you feel good (she loves being a tease) but is quick to make up for it.

As a countess, she carries a lot of burden on her shoulders and appreciates a partner who is willing to help and lighten that burden. Make her feel so good she won't be able to worry about her duties or have any doubts of her role as the ruler of Vesuvia. Do it so that her mind is only filled with the thoughts of you and the way your body feels against hers. Life is a lot easier when Nadia has such an attentive and giving partner by her side. And she always make sure to be there for you too.

#the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana asra #asra alnazar #asra x reader #the arcana asra x reader #asra x mc #the arcana julian #julian devorak #julian devorak x reader #julian devorak x mc #the arcana julian x reader #the arcana nadia #nadia satrinava #nadia satrinava x reader #nadia satrinava x mc #the arcana nadia x reader #requests are open

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Fourteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None… but the angst train has left the station

Notes: If you’re one of the sweet angels that left a comment on the taglist form, it makes my heart so happy - thank you! Please forgive me for the end of this chapter

Word Count: 1860

Series Masterlist

Reader

My entire summer was spent with the Cullens. Surprisingly enough, my mother didn’t protest it one bit, something about finally making friends. I was mostly monopolized by Jasper, but Alice had her fair share of stealing me away for girl’s nights with Esme and Rosalie.

Rosalie, talk about a tough nut to crack. I think at this point I’ve finally crested the mountain of hatred she feels towards her brothers’ “mortal liabilities” and I’m solidly in tolerable territory. She doesn’t outwardly mention her distaste anymore or avoid me like the plague, which I consider a definite win. I think Emmett is partially what wore her down besides Jasper’s lack of give a damn towards his sister’s opinions.

Befriending Alice has been as easy as breathing, she’s always there and might as well have Edward’s supernatural power of mind reading. I can tell her life has been lonely in the way she attaches herself to Bella and I, Rose isn’t the most social female and Esme is more of a mother figure than best friend. I’m grateful for her nonetheless, I’m not exactly flooded with friends myself - nor is whatever this thing is with Jasper an appropriate topic of conversation for anyone outside of this immediate circle.

Emmett has managed to become the older brother I wish I had and he takes that role incredibly serious for someone that’s always the comedic relief. Over the course of the last couple of months, I’ve figured out that he’s a big hugger, and a very good one at that. I’ve also noticed that he’s become my rock in a way - never backing down from a challenge, always hyping me up, and never passing judgement.

I still haven’t cracked the code for Edward. He’s quiet and shut off from the rest, not one for casual conversation or wasting time. And when he isn’t with Bella - well that’s wasting time in the worst way. Majority of our interactions are spent in comfortable silence, Jasper tells me it’s because I’m like a magnet in the way that my energy is calmer than most.

I like to think Jasper and I don’t make his family quite as nauseous as Edward and Bella do, but I know we have our moments… like his sisters insisting we sit apart for movie night because he most definitely cannot keep his hands to himself. The smug grin he had on his face along with his hands raised in surrender as his sisters berated him still makes me blush, damn him and his stupidly attractive smirk.

All summer long I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to realize that I’m human and he’s immortal, that I’m nothing in the grand scheme that is his life. It’s partially my fault for chickening out every time the topic of us rolls around, but my anxiety tends to get the better of me. God he is a patient man though, never pushing me and always in-tune to my feelings.

I’m absolutely head over heels for him but I can’t quite force those three little words of I love you past my lips. The confession simultaneously on the tip of my tongue and clogging up my throat.

Although he would disagree heavily, Jasper Hale is not a hard man to fall in love with. He struggles with his control from time to time, but when it comes to me - I can tell he’s different. He’s quiet in a way that’s patient and at-ease, instead of the closed-off way he was initially. His smile is softer around the edges, less forced than when he was trying for the sake of his adopted mother. His touch is instinct now, no longer robotic or unsure, but softer. He’s quicker to laugh, quicker to whisper sweet-nothings in my ear that make my cheeks hurt from smiling, quicker to reach for my hand when he needs an anchor.

I’ve never been more grateful for a split second of clumsiness on my first day at a new school.

• September 13th, 2005 • Forks HS •

Jasper

“A birthday party at your house?” Y/n asks, walking beside me before first period.

“Yes darlin’, I’m afraid my sister requires your attendance.” I continue to lead Y/n down the emptying hallway with a gentle hand on her back.

“I suppose I can spare you her wrath, but only if you pick me up tonight.” She glances up at me with a mischievous smile.

“Speak of the devil…” I mutter quietly while taking a deep breath, bracing myself for the quick footsteps approaching.

“I heard that!” Alice smacks the arm not around my girl. “I need your help.”

“Help with what?” Y/n asks quietly with a wrinkle in her beautiful brow, but I shake my head already knowing what my sister needs.

As Y/n and I stop at the bottom of the stairs, Edward and Isabella approach our small group as Alice vaults over the stair railing and skips forward in excitement, a neatly wrapped gift in her hands.

“Bella! Happy-”

“Shhh!” Bella stops her, the panic and embarrassment flooding from her almost drawing a laugh from me.

“-Birthday.” She finishes, quieter this time.

Bella flashes an exasperated look over Alice’s shoulder and I respond with a calming nod.

“Alice, didn’t I say no gifts?”

“You did, I didn’t.” My sister smarts back. “I’ve already seen you open it and guess what? You love it!”

Bella scoffs exasperated, but Alice interrupts her before she can object.

“You’re going to wear it tonight, our place.” At Bella’s hesitation she adds, “C’mon, please? It’ll be fun!”

Taking my que, I pull away her hesitation and replace it with a touch of acquiescence, gently in an effort to be inconspicuous.

“Okay, alright.” Powerless to my emotional regulation.

I notice a smile quirk the corner of Edward’s mouth, my brother exuding amusement - humored by our efforts to persuade his girlfriend.

A squeal of happiness leaks from my sister, “Great! I’ll see you at seven!” Spinning in our direction to make a quick getaway, we’re stopped by Bella.

“Jasper! No fair with the mood control thing.”

“Sorry Bella, Happy-“ but I let the sentiment die on my tongue at her exasperated look. “Never mind.”

Pushing my girl and gripping Alice by the elbow, I usher them away and towards class. I may be immortal, but a smart man knows when to let the women in his life win.

• September 13th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

Waiting upstairs per Alice’s request to keep Bella company while she finished the final touches on decorations, roping my… Jasper into helping. Wondering over to where Edward and Bella are discussing a painting, I squint at who it contains.

“Is that, Carlisle?” Bella points out.

“Yeah, he lived with them for a few decades. He described them as refined, no respect for humans of course, but respect for the arts and the sciences at least.” He pauses, glancing between us before returning his eyes to the painting. “And the law, above all, the law.”

A shiver runs down my spine at the eerie way he explains the ancient vampires.

“Vampires have laws?” Bella’s tone takes on a rhetorical tone, but Edward answers nonetheless.

“Not very many. And only one that’s regularly enforced.”

“What is it?” The question comes from both of us this time.

“That we keep the existence of our kind a secret. We don’t make spectacles of ourselves. And we don’t kill conspicuously.” A sliver of panic runs through me as Jasper’s past flashes through my mind. “Unless of course you want to die.”

“You gotta stop talking about that. I can’t even think of someone hurting you.” Bella quietly and assertively tells him.

“Bella, the only thing that can hurt me is you.” As Edward turns to her, I gravitate towards the door to give them privacy. “I don’t have anything else to be afraid of.”

“That’s not true.”

“Victoria,” My mind immediately flashes back to the ballet studio, “She’ll come for me one day, Alice will see when she decides and we’ll be ready.”

Why had I not thought of that? Of course she’d come for us, the Cullens killed James because of us.

“I can protect you, if you change me.”

I try to contain my gasp, trying not to be obvious that I overheard her request. Her request to be changed.

“It’s time! It’s time, it's time, it's time!” Alice bounds into the room and I slip down the stairs before she can tug Bella away from Edward.

Jasper with eyebrows furrowed smooths a hand across my jaw to cradle my head as I step into his arms, sensing my clashing emotions. Alice interrupts him before he could ask why by bounding down the stairs and joining us.

I spin around to lean my back against Jasper as Edward leads Bella down to the living room, Carlisle and Esme are the first to greet them.

“Sorry about all this, we tried to reign Alice in.” Carlisle jokingly apologizes.

“Like that’s even possible.” Bringing Bella in for a hug with a sweet smile, “Happy birthday, Bella.”

Jasper’s hands find my hips and squeeze, I can tell he won’t let earlier go so easily, he cares too much for that.

Alice blindsides Bella with a flash of a camera, “Found it in your bag, mind?” She asks after snapping a picture of her and Edward together.

Emmett slides past us with a mischievous glint in his expression, causing Jasper to groan as his brother slides up next to Edward.

Nudging him, “Dating an older woman, hot.” Emmett teases.

Edward elbows him right back sharply to shut him up and I wince at the force.

“What?” He tries to play it off with innocence, but we all know he’s rather full of shit and I crack a smile at his antics.

Rosalie chooses then to rip the bandaid off and give Bella the first present of the evening, a small silver package. “A necklace. Alice picked it out.” Short and to the point, she steps away to rejoin Emmett causing Bella to smile.

Meeting our eyes across the room, she waves a greeting to Jasper that he returns silently.

Alice grabs a medium-sized present with a bow, “This one’s from Emmett.”

Bella shakes the suspiciously empty box and I try to cover my laugh at the look of confusion on her face.

“Already installed it in your truck.” He’s vibrating like an excited puppy, “Finally a decent sound system for that piece of crap-”

“Hey, don’t hate the truck.”

“Open Esme and Carlisle’s!” Alice thrusts the envelope into her hands.

“Just something to brighten your day.” Carlisle tells her as Esme steps forward.

“You’ve been looking kind of pale lately.” Esme hints with a smile.

Struggling to open the envelope, she finally tears through the paper.

But it isn’t the only thing that tears.

The droplet of blood that drips down her finger halts the breath in my lungs and the world feels as though it’s standing still. That is, until a thin arm wraps around my waist and my vision blurs.

Next

Teaser

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@pbbsl

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#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #jasper hale x reader #twilight #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale #female reader insert #jasper hale x female!reader

[neonovember]

Deceit

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

divider by @firefly-graphics​ !

Taglist 🏷️ (send an ask to be part of my taglist for this series!)

@tinkerbelle67 @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory@nomadstucky @nessie2183 @shamelessfangirl-3 @namelesssav @marvel-phoenix @euphoric-goddess @roseeatta @abschaffer2 @louderfortheback @stupendouslovegardener @wandamaximoff-simp @thedonswife13 @hpsimpspot @samsgirl93​ @cynic-spirit

Bucky is quiet the ride over, dark steel greys surveying the road eagerly, like he was waiting for someone, or something to give him a reason to jump out and spill blood. 

The wheel wains in his grip, and his dark hair falls over in waves, pushed back behind his ears and smelling of pine nut and mint. There's a hint of a smile on his face, he knows you're watching him.

You avert your gaze quickly, looking towards the mountain trees on either side of the asphalt road ahead.

The relief you had thought would fill you as Bucky pulls into the potholed road of your apartment is blank, and your chest fills vacant without the heat of it. Your mind is restless, and the entire ride over had given you ample time to think over everything that had happened earlier. 

You had folded and unfolded every piece of information Bucky had told you about Steve and all it had done was make you feel like you were intruding, like you were given privy to something you had no right knowing. Like peeking through the cracks under closed doors as a child listening in on their parents.

Where your street had once been busy with loitering huddles of gaunt faced men, a quiet murmur settles over the ground floor of your apartment complex, all the way up to the hallway to your place. 

And as you pass by a few stragglers who blanch when Bucky shifts his hard gaze towards them, stuttering over their own feet and rushing back to their alleyways, you have an inclination that it was all Steves doing.

His reach was absolute.

You didn’t know what to feel, you’ve known displacement for too long. 

Separating from your betrothed, separated from the life you had been half folded into, separating from the very syllabus of your name. 

The spaces between the letters get further and further as the years go by. Until you can hardly remember if your namesake is really yours, just a frightening sound that came out of your husband's mouth.

This is different though. Until now, your instinct has always been right. And yet, when you think of Steve? When you try to find footing in your gut it comes up wobbly and unsure.

Was he something more than he let on? Did he only uncover pieces of himself for his own benefit? 

Bucky had told you he had lost his own wife, and young too. Forced to be exposed to the brutality of the world before he could even get a chance to indulge in youthful recklessness. 

You feel a sense of empathy for him, but also, also surprise. It isn’t the murder, or your own husbands doing that causes a slight slip of your heart. The truth is much more foolish instead.

There was a time Steve was ready to forsake this entire life, live forever looking over his shoulder, turn back on tradition that was as deep as marrow, all for love.

You could laugh if you had remembered what that felt like. The thought outright unnerves you. Steve? The gluttonous leader who held sanctions of New York with an iron fist? 

It drives a pit in your stomach when you think too hard about what it means. 

There’s a fiery jealousy that swarms you, you had never understood the wielding power that love carried all your life. It was a feeling, just like any other was it not? 

Yet it had men like Steve falling to his knees!

And all that swarms your mind is how it’s so unfair, that you’ve never experienced such a thing. That you may never will. Forced to succumb to the life that was only half yours, down a path so far the ground had changed beneath you.

What did it feel like to give in? To show all your misgivings with unabashed apprehension? To let yourself, all of it, to another person?

Anything close to a love like that had come from the faded memories of your father, his warmth and deep gritted protectiveness over you. And that had been stripped from you quicker that you were able to forsake it.

You suppose that wasn't meant to be dealt in your cards, which you had come to understand were drawn years ago. You lie to yourself, but during some nights the aching desire to feel something, to taste the deep gripping love that had caused even Steve to lose focus explodes deep in your gut. 

Your longing for connection was something you hid well, and god didn’t you get awfully good at hiding these years? Fit yourself in nooks and crannies that were too small, smoothed out your jagged edges to click into the puzzle pieces.

And yet, the empathy you had silently shared, the intimate conversation you had had with Steve in your mind is stamped out with swiftness as Bucky walks you to your door.

That was then, now Steve had made it perfectly clear where he stood. The cool indifference and hardening this life caused had stolen any shine or hope that Steve may have held those years ago. Everything he did now was calculated, for the betterment of broadening his kingdom. 

He might as well have died along with her.

Bucky leans against the hallway, eyes surveying the decrepit halls lit by overexerted linoleum lights. You hesitate a moment, before popping your keys into your door, twisting it this way and that to get it to open.

You flinched as the door opened wide, almost like you were expecting someone to be standing right behind it, waiting for your arrival before pouncing. You’re a child, waiting for the ghoul in the closet to jump out.

Yet all that is there is the same peeling walls of your small entryway and some shoes and a coat strewn to the side in your haste to get to the diner early those days before. 

You’d much prefer the monster.

Days, it had only been days, so why did it feel like a lifetime since you stepped foot into your home? 

You don’t know what you were expecting, for your apartment to change when you had been kept away from it unceremoniously? For someone to have cleaned out the dishes lying in the sink, and ruffle the pillows lying on your old sofa? 

You had craved mundanity for so long, craved consistently at a time where you didn’t know which face of your husband you would meet those days. 

When the monster living underneath your husband's skin would jump out.

But now, you crave something more. It simmers right under your skin, deep within your chest and its shadowy fingers flutter over every inch of you.

Your apprehension is evident by the way Bucky shifts his way towards you stuttering frame.

“Hey, I wouldn't be so keen on coming home to this place either. Those carpets don’t look that inviting" Bucky replies, there is a sight lilt in his voice as he drags his eyes across your depressing furnishing.

You cut your eyes towards him, narrowing your lids.

“Not everyone lives in an exorbitant palace you know” You gruffly reply, shuffling into your door in a way that was more spite than eagerness.

Bucky breaks out in a grin that takes up half his face, his hand stuffed into his suit pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

“Talking like a woman who hasn’t done just that half her life” Bucky replies, cocking his head to the side.

Oh right, your husband's estate that took up half of the city. One that was never, and would never be in your name.

You drop your handbag onto one of the hooks attached to the hallway, turning towards Bucky with a sigh.

“That’s different” You reply evenly

“Oh yeah? How so?” Bucky murmurs, eyes shining with a smile

“I was never welcomed in that home- house. God it would never be a home no matter how many architects and designers dressed it up. You think I escaped ‘cause it was my safe haven?” You cock your head to the side and Bucky’s face evens out. The smile adorning his features morphs back into his face as a look passes through his eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about that with Steve-”

“Oh yeah? Because he is the most upfront person to talk to. Right. This place, as depressing as it looks, is solely mine. It’s the only thing I have on this goddamn earth that hasn't been mauled and changed with my husband's fingers. Or the life he leads. You might not understand it, how important that is but-”

“I do. Trust me” Bucky replies, cutting you with and he offers you a nod that was more understanding than half the world's he promised to you.

Can I? You wonder thoughtfully. Was this just a part of some elaborate plan that Rumlow had clued you on? You were everywhere all at once, topsy turvy and turned inside out. This was the life you had to live now.

“Good” You say instead, wringing your fingers as Bucky’s phone begins to buzz from his pants pocket.

You wait for him to reach for it immediately, but he doesn't, just remains quiet as he taps his foot against the hardwood floor. There seemed to be a look of understanding that passed between you when he had racked his fist against the wall adjacent to your door. 

The blues of his eyes twinkled under the sun peeking through the hallway window, and you didn’t realize it then but it was trust that shined in his eyes. Like the words he had shared with you warranted the same secrecy he held with the other men he worked with. 

You had paid in flesh and blood for your silence, what more was another pound?

The ring runs through, and the silence soon returns between you both.

“I’m not going to the mouth off to half of Brooklyn that their most influential business man likes painting” You reply with a murmur, eyes darting left and right as if neighbors were listening in. Enough of them had watched you walk to your apartment door, eyes strained on Bucky and his shoes that shine too bright. Faces that had never even said hello had craned their necks as you passed, of course. Whispers of inquisition under their breath.

“I know you won’t” Bucky replies instantly. “Just- let him explain the rest of it, yeah? ‘S only fair you hear it from him” 

“Fair?” You raise your eyebrows, “You’re talking about fairness now? Bullshit. If you were guided by some moral compass I wouldn't have been forced into this, you wouldn't even be in this life” You snark unconsciously.

Where does this all come from? You hadn't even raised an eyebrow at your husband, and now you were bad mouthing a man with a gun poking through his waistband. You look down, staring at the unusual stain in the hallway carpet you never quite knew what was. The anxiety and timidness you were used to coming back tenfold.

Bucky doesn't retaliate, just looks towards you with a feather-like smirk.

“I was wrong about you, y’know?” Bucky whispers, leaning in as if he were divulging in a secret he couldn't let be spoken in the open air.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re everything like Steve.” Bucky replies thoughtfully, a far away look taking over his dark features. 

He’s miles away, reminiscing about parts of Steve that had been left in the dark. He looks younger than, when you notice the way his eyebrows scrunch and his locks fall flat over his face. 

But it's enveloped back into Bucky in a second, a sad smile replacing his grin.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call” 

Giving you one last nod, he turns back towards the hallway entrance and it takes you a few moments before you realise.

“But I don't have your number!” You call out, leaning out your door

His brown locks shift as he turns back to you

“You sure about that?” A raise of his eyebrows at the ping of your phone, waving you with two fingers.

You don't have to pull it out to know it's him. And you can't help but let out a chuckle before turning back and shutting the door firmly.

You find yourself accompanying your time scrubbing down the floorboard and yellowed walls of your home, filling your hours since Bucky had left with meager tasks. It helps you think, concentrating on little chores around the house so you don't have to think about the thoughts that rattled loudly in your mind.

It’s still well into the morning, and as the sun filters through your drapes you lean back on your heels nodding accomplished at the glint of the shining floors. The walls were an impassive yellow, never yielding no matter what cleaning products you threw at them, but beyond the old entryway carpet the apartment was lined with pristine hardwood floors that shined with a little elbow grease.

Not that shitty huh Bucky?

Wiping the sweat that had grown increasingly uncomfortable above your brow, you make way to your small enclosed kitchenette, swiping a cup from the drying rack before you watch the water fill to its glass edge. You gulp half of it down, before your much needed break is interrupted by the faint buzzing of your phone emitted from somewhere in the living room.

You forage for it quickly, searching till you find it wedged between the cracks of your couch. You pause for a moment, considering whether it might be Bucky, or Steve calling but as you see the vibrating screen of your manager's face you slide the receiver across the screen.

You brace yourself for the inevitable screech of her voice, you haven't been to work in days, an irregular for you considering the mountain of bills that left your bank account squandered each month. You needed this job, and now Steve hand upended your life, you fear it’ll slip through your fingers.

Manager calls, you pick up, she’s very quiet and apprehensive and is all sweet in a a way you remember she never had been before. She’s almost scared to talk to you, asking about a shift you could cover and you say yea without thinking. You need a distraction. Even if Steve had made it clear you no longer needed to worry about work.

“Hello?” You reply, eyebrows furrowing at the beat of silence that fills the space usually used up by ** loud un yielding demands.

“Y/N? Hey, how are you doing” Replies carefully, as if choosing her words.

“What?” You blurt out

You can’t help the confusion that puzzles your voice, who was this person? In the months you had spent working at that dead end job not once has she ever asked how you were. Not when you had spent half your break with your head in your toilet the first few months you had escaped. A cat on edge, nerves frazzled by even the slightest heavy stamp of a dress shoe.

What had changed?

You don’t have to kid yourself, you know the answer deep down. Him, it always goddamn is.

“Sorry, uhm I’m been doing good” You reply “I apologise for kind of just disappearing on you and the Diner”

“Oh that? That’s totally fine, once your friends cleared that up” 8 gulped, the sharp exhale of breath filling the receiver at the mention of this friend of yours.

“Friend?” You reply

“Don’t worry about it, I’m glad your doing alright. Uh-, so uhm ’s sister dropped her kids off at 4am last night at hers, she cant her shift. And * got SAT prep. Can you fill in if possible it’s totally okay if you can’t, I needed to stay back a few anyway-”

“Sure” 

You needed the distraction, you felt stifled in the walls of your apartment. It wasn’t meant to be a prison, and yet the only time you felt truly free now was when you slammed the door behind you.

“-oh, Oh thank you! Thank you so much. If you could come in at 12, it’s just the afternoon shift. And if you need to leave for whatever reason it’s totally fine you don’t even have to tell me-“

“Mare?

“Yes?”

“Relax. I miss the diner and it’s crappy linoleum lights anyways”

Mare snorts into the receiver “The teams missing you too”

After passing a few more instructions on the wave of Russian tourists coming through Brooklyn this time of year you let your phone clatter onto the coffee table.

Sure, your manager could be a pain in the ass but being passive aggressive didn’t warrant a mob leader holding you at gunpoint.

You wonder what Steve had said to her to cause her to be this shaken up, she was the most stubborn woman you’ve ever met. It couldn’t have been easy to have her yield, at least not without some sort of real threat.

Especially in New York.

You rifle through your bag before grabbing your work uniform. The musty smell of old oil and grease makes you throw it haphazardly into the laundry basket before reaching for a clean shirt.

You try to look presentable, washing your face with the bathroom tap that never not juts out cold water. You avoid your reflection when you pay your face dry, which is interestingly enough, hard to do since it’s well..your face.

Drawing the wisps of coils that spring free you pull your hair back into a bun. You don’t bother with makeup, it never quite sat right on your face when you did it. Reaching for your bag and throwing your phone and the rest of your miscellaneous, you hurry down the steps of your apartment complex. 

Popping in your earphones as you step into the train carriage, you memorise the dock and pull of the train ride till you feel your stop. Your music swims through your veins, and you breathe it in before opening your eyes to the tram doors opening.

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #neonovember #chris evans #sebastian stan #marvel masterlist #marvel cinematic universe #duplicity #neo writes #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x black!fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x black!fem!reader #mob!steve x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob!steve #mob!au #mob steve rogers #mafia!steve #mafia!avengers #mafia!au #mafia au #mafia bucky #mafia steve rogers

[ashwhowrites]

Can you do a writing with Eddie having sex with pregnant wife? She's got a big baby bump and has been self conscious about having sex with Eddie. After some convincing she caves but Eddie stares at her bump the entire time she rides him. When she tells him to stop looking at her bump he tells her how she's always been beautiful but carrying his child she is absolutely glowing. Make it smutty but sweet. I'm begging it's been hard on my mind.

Oh absolutely. This idea already drove me wild

I hope you love it!

Eddie was a horny guy, he'll be the first to admit that.

His wife could do anything and he's ready to pounce. But when you add the fact she's carrying his child, he's so fucked. He's been rock hard since her bump first was shown.

At first she was just as nuts as him. Constantly on each other within seconds of eye contact. For months straight, they fucked nightly.

But once she got big, and very big. She became less interested and Eddie grew more aroused. Eddie blamed it on the fact she was tired, and uncomfortable. He doesn't blame her. But seeing her belly grow more and more, it was hard to ignore how badly he wanted to watch her ride him. Her big round belly front and center as her cunt clenched around him and milking him.

~~

She felt huge. She knows she's carrying her husband's baby and was creating life. But that didn't change the fact she felt hideous. She didn't understand how Eddie was still attracted to her. When she looked in the mirror she didn't see one beautiful thing about herself. Her brain couldn't wrap around the fact her husband still wanted her, desired her.

As hard as it was, she dodged every advance. When his hand would trail up her thigh she was fast to stand up, well as fast as she could with her huge belly.

When he would rub his morning wood against her ass and his deep morning voice, she was practically dripping in the sheets but would run to make breakfast.

~~

Eddie was not the type of man to force a girl to have sex with him. But God it's been months since he felt his wife's body against his own. He was at his breaking point, ready to beg for it.

She wasn't evil to him. She still took care of him sexually. Hand jobs, blow jobs, and gave him alone time to masterbate. But he wanted to be in her. He needed to feel her pussy more than anything.

He knew his wife, he saw it in her eyes she was aroused by him. So what was keeping her away?

He was going to figure it out and make her crack.

~~

She felt like the world was out for her blood.

She was minding her business, making breakfast when Eddie came freshly out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his long hair to his toned chest. His tattoos are dark from being wet.

He smirked, he knew what this does.

He acted innocent as he wrapped his arms around her, his big hands rubbing her belly. And just like that she felt gross, reminded of how big her stomach was.

"you're so fucking hot." Eddie grunted in her ear, kisses slowly being placed on her neck.

"breakfast is ready!" She announced as she yanked herself away from him.

That was too close.

~~

Eddie did this for about three days. Every day she was getting closer to cracking. From working out in the living room, to tying his hair up so his shirt would purposely show his happy trail. Lying and saying the car desperately needed to be cleaned shirtless. He could practically smell her arousal more each day.

He had one last trick up his sleeve.

One thing she could never deny.

One thing he learned from when they were teenagers.

The one time she caught him jacking off, moaning her name. It had her going for hours.

The second Eddie had himself placed on the couch, loose sweats hung on his hips, boxers poking out.

He's been rock hard since he met her so that wasn't an issue. He slowly palmed himself. Giving a tug over his sweats. A low groan left his lips.

Once he heard the garage door open, he started his show.

He threw his head back, yanked his cock out fast, spit on his hand and began to pump himself. He was going to an mad fast pace. Moaning loudly and chanting his wife's name.

With his eyes closed, he couldn't see her but he felt her stare. He heard her small whimpers, his eyes opened and looked for hers.

Once he saw them he smiled at her. Acting like his hand isn't pumping his cock.

"Hi baby."

She stood, thighs closed very close together. Her mouth opens in small gaps. Eyes trained on watching his ring filled hand gliding on his cock. Wet sounds echoing throughout the house from how wet his cock is.

"my fat cock misses you gorgeous. Misses that pretty tight cunt. Come sit momma." He pulled his hand away, holding out his clean hand for her to take.

She slowly itched forward. For once her arousal was winning. Seeing her husband pumping himself to her, made her feel like they were teenagers again. She tried to control herself. Look into his eyes but no matter what they trailed down.

She was close enough where he reached her hand. He gripped it and tugged her closer.

She stood right before his feet. Licking her lips at the sight of his red throbbing cock. She whined in the back of her throat. She can't deny that she missed him and definitely missed him in that way.

She wanted it so bad.

"don't fight it baby, let me take good care of you." She moaned at his words, his hands traveled to her leggings, pulling them down slowly.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her clothed cunt. He licked his lips, god he missed her pretty cunt.

She stepped out of her pants, kicking them to the side.

His fingers grazed over her covered clit, she shivered, goosebumps raising on her skin.

She felt so sensitive. Her hormones are on high drive.

"doesn't that feel good baby?" He softly asked. No teasing or mocking. Generally just wanted her to feel relaxed and good.

She nodded as she placed herself on his lap. Arms circling around his neck, fingers digging into his curls.

Eddie's hand raised towards the bottom of her shirt, she stopped his hands before he could take it off.

He looked at her confused.

"what is it?"

"can we just keep my shirt on?" She asked, too embarrassed to look into his eyes.

Eddie wasn't having it. He grabbed her chin and made her look up at him. His eyes connected with hers.

"why baby? I want to see all of you."

"I just hate how big I am."

That's when it connected.

"baby, have you been self conscious about your gorgeous baby bump?"

"it is not gorgeous Eddie. I'm huge." She cried as tears clouded her vision.

Eddie shushed her and pecked her cheeks softly. The rough skin on his thumbs wiped her tears.

"stop that. That's my wife's body you are talking about. And her body is fucking gorgeous. You are carrying my baby in that body. Do you know how beautiful that is? And how fucking hard that makes me?"

He lifted his hips, his cock brushed against her covered clit. She shivered from the contact.

"see?"

When he silently asked again, she nodded.

A big smile took over his face as he lifted up her shirt. He unclipped her bra.

He leaned as far back as he could. Looking at his wife sitting there in nothing but her underwear.

His eyes trailed to her swollen belly. He felt a growl escape his throat and his tip started to leak precum.

She tried to distract him by moving her underwear to the side and slipping him in.

His head was thrown to the back of the couch. Eyes rolling into his head, feeling his raw cock filling her up again. It's been months since he felt her.

"fuck baby you are so tight. I might just blow already." He tried to laugh but a moan cut him off. She felt fucking amazing.

She began to slowly rock her hips against him. She didn't have much strength to move on him as fast as she generally did.

She took her time, getting lost in the feeling of him. His mouth sucking her skin. His hands rub her sides softly. His grunts and her moans fill the living room.

Eddie couldn't take his eyes off of her. She looked like she was glowing. Her breasts were large and swelling. Her cheeks were flushed. And the one part he couldn't take his eyes off of- her belly.

Watching her ride him, that gorgeous huge bump pressing into his stomach. His eyes were glued to it.

"stop staring at it."

He didn't even notice she stopped moving her hips against him.

He blinked and looked up to her

"baby. You are gorgeous and your bump is making you glow. Please just let me make love to my wife okay?"

He began to thrust up, she moaned when he got deeper in her. Fingers adding pressure to her clit.

"you are so wet, gorgeous. I love you so much. I love knowing you have a part of me in you. Everyone who sees you just knows I fucked you up real nice."

She was practically whimpering on him at this point. She hated how close she was, wanting this to last forever.

She was starting to feel beautiful again. Her husband desired her somehow even more than ever.

"Eddie, I'm coming to cum. Please let me cum. Please baby please."

"you don't have to ask baby. Cum for me. Make a mess on me. Come on baby."

His fingers were going faster against her clit. She threw her head back as her stomach felt like it snapped.

"fuck. Eddie. Yes. Don't stop. Fuck shit."

Watching her orgasm, screaming his name, he was fast behind her.

"fuck baby good job. Daddy's going to come now. Okay he's going to fill you up just like last time. Fuck..sh..it"

His own orgasm ripping through his body. His legs clenched as he emptied himself in her.

His head was thrown back and she was quick to suck on the available skin.

He slowly lifted her up, letting his soft cock slip out of her.

She whined at the emptiness and dug herself closer to him.

"I love you too Eddie. So much." She kissed his lips.

Now when his hands touched her stomach, she felt desired, loved, and so goddamn beautiful.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson smut x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut

[phoenixyfriend]

Post-O66 Mace going into hiding as a pirate with a crew like Hondo's, is that anything?

I got a bunch of input on discord. Calling this one:

A bunch of pirates, a Jedi Master on the run, and a traumatized twelve-year-old.

Kicking off with a key part of it all is @atagotiak (Tia):

He’s annoying because he’s such a stick in the mud (by which I mean it’s rather inconvenient for a pirate crew when the new recruit has morals and stuff) But he’s too valuable to get rid of, due to having all that experience with administration

I am enamored with the idea of Mace's main job being just. Pirate Admin.

Mace: So this is what I am reduced to. Aiding and abetting… in tax evasion. Hondo: And piracy. Mace: The tax evasion is a bigger hit to my pride.

Tia:

The pirates are annoyed that despite him stopping them from going through with the more immoral (and lucrative) plans they’re still making more money than before

Pirates: How are we making more money now-- Mace: Have you heard of a budget.

@jebiknights (knights):

okay but traditionally pirate ships have a quarter master who is high ranking, in charge of the bounty of every prize and therefore in charge of dividing everything up fairly like that could work really well lmaooo

The crew runs into Obi-Wan during the Leia incident and it's just time for "I can explain" on both ends.

Tia:

Hey, d’you think the pirates go after force sensitives? Mace managed to talk them into recruitment and/or relocation instead of selling to the empire. (And that’s another thing that could possibly have worked out better for them than the immoral option (not least because the empire doesn’t really treat its allies well)) Obi-Wan: and how are you dealing with Hondo’s… nonsense? Mace: eh, it’s not like he’s any worse than you or Yoda. (Mace is probably just messing with Obi-Wan. Probably)

Also I'm thinking that one of those initiates that Hondo let go(?) that one time finds them because a pirate might be likely to sell them out but they're demonstrably competent at evading arrest, so maybe-

And that's how Mace ends up with another padawan. Maybe Katooni.

@dracothulhu:

Hondo would put him in so many stupid costumes

knights:

i also just realized that mace loses both of his hands in rots..... hondo tries to convince him at least one of said hands should be a hook or a lightsaber

Tia:

Probably deliberately playing straight man about it. He doesn’t care about dignity that much, but there’s benefits to exaggerate how humiliating he finds it Hey, y’know what’s piratical? Eyepatches

[vibrates in response to baiting for Nick Fury jokes] Love it

Tia:

I do think as much as jokes about Samuel L Jackson’s other roles are fun, pirate Mace shouldn’t swear much, even after becoming acclimated to pirate life.

knights:

also i agree i think pirate mace shouldnt swear much, he should get to use his classically trained acting chops and give dramatic speeches like hes the love interest in a pirate romance novel hondo is swooning in the background .... nixy im about ready to start crack shipping them bc of this dammit this is going to pick at my brain isnt it dhgisrjgser (pirate mace not the hondo/mace part) honestly the funniest thing is that mace would probably really enjoy being a pirate after all of the beauracracy he had to deal with in the senate during the war. things are much more simple even if everyone drives him nuts lol listen mace didn't intend to get directly involved in the actual like heists probably, he is there to lay low and also to keep the ship organized and make sure hondo doesnt blow all their money on booze and "investments", but then hondo's dumbass probably gets in over his head along with his first mate and some other crew members and mace is starting to like the life hes living esp bc he is still able to help people on the Path in between thievery and tax evasion, so he goes to rescue them and is like... what am i supposed to do i am too recognizable i am supposed to be dead and puts on a disguise and just goes for it

Another thing Mace is good at is contracts He is. Painfully good at it. He doesn't enjoy it, but watching Hondo draft up a contract is almost painful. (Hondo is smart at this. He's clever. He's experienced. But he didn't take multiple classes on contract law.)

Tia:

Hondo never seemed especially book smart, and he never made a promise he hadn’t at least considered breaking so contracts would be a weak point for him

#Hondo Ohnaka #Mace Windu #Katooni #Obi Wan Kenobi #pirate au #star wars #the clone wars #post o66 #phoenix posts #mohdaka

[itoshi-s]

I need a shower sex scenario with Sae!!!

That"s it.

I have nothing else to say.

(expect thank you!)

.........................(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) u want me dead or what ..! aaaa sobbin i want him so bad

sometimes sae's schedule is so tight, it feels like you're not living together anymore :(( he knows u don't mind, already used to the life he was living and having accepted it, but the thought of you staying at the empty apartment for long hours,, going to bed needy and having to take care of ur desires by yourself, it makes annoyance bubble in his chest and he despises it. wants to make his baby feel good <3 AND has major needs himself !!! i can see sae being fucking mean to everyone around after a long time of no nutting akjhakfjlsa

that's why he came up with this little routine you two share now, and the mere sound of the bathroom door cracking open is enough to make you squirm.

nsfw under the cut!

"oh," you peek your head out from behind the matte glass separating the shower area from the rest of the bathroom, "you're back early?"

sae doesn't reply straight away, instead giving a small grunt as he pulls the sweat drenched tee off and chucks it in the laundry bin. soon, his grey sweatpants follow, as well as his boxers, and there he is - standing in all of his glory. you put down the shampoo bottle, taking a glance of the taut muscles of his back flex as he rolls his shoulders back. he's tense, exhausted - and you can see the violet hue under his eyes, a contrast to the bright emerald as he looks your way.

"yeah," sae sighs, stepping into the shower in front of you. the water soaks into his auburn hair as he tils his head forward, rivulets of clear liquid running down his cheekbones, jaw, prominent adam's apple - and then, wandering lower.

it seems like you couldn't help but let your eyes follow the droplets, cause sae hums amusedly and you can almost hear the smirk in his voice. your cheeks are already a bright pink due to the burning hot water, and yet, he manages to make the flush deepen even more. sheepishly, you rest your forehead against his collarbone, a soft whine slipping past your lips at the feeling of sae's hand resting on your hips. he kneads at the flesh before running his his palm back up your torso, comfortably wrapping his fingers around your throat.

your eyes lock, a monotone expression met with your awaiting and hopeful one - as if you didn't know what was to come the second he walked through the bathroom door. you're his favourite way to unwind - a piece of his evening routine that he cannot let go of.

he cracks his neck once, a pleased sigh leaving his mouth at the sight of you obediently getting down to your knees. he doesn't need to utter a single word, the look on his face enough to make your mind drop into the zone, "good girl. bet you've been waitin' for me, weren't you?"

you nod eagerly, a moan slipping past your reddened lips as you wrap a hand around his cock. you give it a few slow strokes, tongue lolling out to tease the tip with flat licks - yes, yes sae - and a groan rumbles through his chest as soon as his cock slides into your wet, sloppy mouth.

you hollow your cheeks out, tongue swirling around the tip and collecting the salty taste. you force your eyes open, water running down your face and blurring your sight, but you can still see the way sae's head drops back, shoulders relaxing as you work his cock further down your throat.

a hand tangles in your hair, grabbing at your skull and pushing it forwards, closer to his abdomen with a grunt, "mm. get my dick nice and wet, angel." your pussy flutters at the words, the urge to slip your fingers between your folds almost unbearable - but instead, your freehand reaches up to fondle at his balls, gripping them nice and gentle, just enough to make a shudder rock through his body.

the slurping almost silences the steady water fall, sae's breathing almost hitching up an octave before eventually, he grips your hair firmly and pulls your mouth off him. you cough, hand reaching up to wipe the water and tears out of your eyes, before he pulls you up by the neck.

"face the wall f'me," sae breathes, and you have to force back the grin that pulls at your mouth. he's so collected most of the time, no matter if it's in the middle of the game or with his cock stuck deep in your throat - but sometimes, when he's this extremely worked up, he gets needy and it's clear as day, with the way his voice cracks and chest heaves.

you prop yourself up against the wall, hands nearly slipping off the tiles as you push your hips back - not expecting to feel sae's cock prodding at your entrance already. a whine catches in your throat as he wastes no time, pushing in past the tight ring of muscle with a moan.

"fuck- y'missed me this much?" sae presses his hips against your ass firmly, grabbing at the front of your thighs just below your hip bones, and he uses it as leverage to pull you further back into him. "pussy feels so fuckin- hah- so good, you're dripping all over the tiles, angel." he nearly whines, setting a ruthless pace - cock hitting right by your cervix as your eyes roll back. he's throbbing, you can feel it as he pushes his dick deeper with each thrust, and you cry out as one of sae's hands presses down on your lower abdomen, right where you feel the familiar pull.

"you're gonna make a mess f'me, get it?" he's answered with a quick nod, a sob stifled deep in your chest, "speak up." he demands, but you can hear that the pent up stress is slowly pushing him ridiculously close to his orgasm - the first one of the night,with many more to come.

"yes sir," you whimper, mouth falling agape to catch a breath, full of hot steam that burns at your throat. you feel your legs tremble from holding up your weight on your tippy toes, and sae seems to notice by the way he grabs your hips tighter, surely leaving another set of deep purple bruises along your bones.

"yeah, yeah you will," he rasps, eyes falling shut as he groans breathily, water dripping past his lips and on his tongue. "you'll fucking take it all."

#✧˚ · . bllk #sae <3 #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae smut #sae itoshi smut #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #blue lock #bllk #✩ sae.thrists #✧.* zaria writes #✧.* ✉ zari’s mail

[ominoose]

𝐏𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨

Character: Steven Grant Prompt: Being Recorded & Pumpkin Summary: Steven has an onlyfans and does a Halloween special stream featuring a pumpkin. Warning: Onlyfans, smut, pumpkin gets violated. WC: 2.1K

Kinktober Masterlist

The camera angled towards his waist, showing only his lower half. His olive skin washed over by the white lighting sitting behind the camera, adding shadows to each curve. A plain, white sheet hung up behind him acting as the backdrop, although now a few fake candles and a single, plump pumpkin now joined him.

It was a basic set up, but Steven found he didn’t need anything too elaborate to keep his viewers entertained. 

After being fired from the museum, a job he can’t even remember getting but one he adored, he turned to alcohol for one measly night. It was far from a normal coping mechanism for him, but the pathetic circumstances called for it. As horrid as Steven's tiny attic flat was, it was still located in central London which made the rent sky high. Even with his full time job he’d barely managed to scrape by with what he made, but now? Unemployed? He was days away from the streets.

In his drunken spiral his depressive thoughts moved from his unemployment status to his barren relationship status. Self deprecating words torrented through his mind. Was he ugly? Unsightly? Was he really that unattractive? Steven made a point of being friendly and open to everyone he came across, so it only made sense that his chronic loneliness stemmed from his appearance. 

Through frustrated and self conscious tears he fell into another less productive vice; porn. If there was no one in reality to hold him, touch him or make him feel something, he’d find someone on a screen to do it. That was how he drunkenly ended up on onlyfans, scrolling through explicit content, eyes widening at the outrageous prices. Did people really spend that amount of money just to watch someone get off, wear costumes and moan into a mic? Without even seeing their face? It was ludicrous, but the more he scrolled, the more it became clear that people were more than happy to pay.

After a sad wank, a few more tears and two more drinks, Steven Grant was officially pished and about to make questionable decisions. In his drunken haze, with a mind whirling with money problems and a need to be wanted, he signed up. With one hand in his pants and another hitting his phones record button, he pointed the camera down at his crotch and went for it. Whimpers and moans filled the room, with Steven panting breathily into the mic and begging with every honest thought he would never have said aloud before.

“Please… please love I’m beggin you, please touch me, I need you,” He fisted his hard, aching cock faster, lips trembling as he lost himself to desperation, “Want you so bad, please, I’ll take anyone, want to be a good boy, I can be such a good boy.”

His voice cracked as he spoke, an emotional and horny wreck, pent up with all sorts of pathetic need. In a matter of minutes he’s spilling over his hands and trousers, crying out at his own sensitivity and jerking into his calloused hand. 

The video ended as he dropped the phone, lazily hitting upload as he typed the title “Just Want To Be A Good Boy.” It was amazing that he managed to spell it all correctly in his state, blinking through self pitying tears. The title was him spelling out his hearts truth, Steven just wanted someone to want him, it was that simple.

As the worst post nut clarity of his life hit he flung the phone to the side of the bed, rolled over with a frustrated huff and forced himself to sleep.

The hangover hit like the London Metro on a monday morning, crowding his head with throbs and aches. Most of last night was a blur, and if the translucent stains on his jeans were anything to go by, it had been another sad and depressing night. 

Steven made his way begrudgingly through the motions, with cornflakes and almond milk, a one sided conversation with Gus and whatever David Attenborough documentary was on the telly. He made it through twenty minutes of the routine before realising his phone had been buzzing. Assuming it was another LinkdIn alert email he ignored them, but after the fifth notification he heaved himself up, trotting over to it the phone with a pout at being bullied via notifications. 

Onlyfans: You have 17 new Subscribers!

With a knitted brow, Steven read over the words twice, then thrice more. Individually the words made sense, but together he was stumped. He had subscribers? On Onlyfans? The porn subscription site? When on earth had he been on there? Dismissing it as some marketing email, he opened the notification with the intent to report it as spam but was instead redirect to the app, which only furthered his confusion. 

Notification bubbles on the app told him he’d gained 127 new subscribers, with 345 likes on his last post. Anxiety and confusion coiled deep within his gut as he clicked onto the post, and the video that played back at him, or rather the voice that did, sent him into the beginning stages of a panic attack.

It was him from the waist down, curled into himself, arching off his bed. It was his voice begging some unknown person to touch him, want him, need him with passionate fervour. Within his broken mind a handful of pieces began to fit together and he buckled against the bed, completely aghast at what he and apparently many others had witnessed.

A new comment popped up live in front of him, and his finger expanded the comment section before his mind could stop him.

“God I need you so bad…”

“Need him to whine right in my ear.”“Ur my good boy”

“what i wouldnt give to edge him till he begs”

“Pleaseeee I need more of this content!”

Stevens heart stopped. His eyes widened in disbelief. They wanted more? Of him? They’d seen him, seen his privates, heard his deepest desires and wants, viewed him at his most raw and they wanted more? The pound sign caught his eye as he saw the automatic base subscription fee being £3, and his eyes flew open once again. With fumbling fingers he opened his bank app and nearly dropped the phone. 

£381 had been added to his bank account. 

That was the story of how Steven Grant, former chronically single giftshoppist, found himself with a successful and growing Onlyfans account. Turns out the whimpery, British men market was ripe for the taking, and he took it by the neck. It didn’t take long before he was adding more tiers, going from posting videos to live streams, he even has a few whales that regularly drop obscene amounts of money to make him buy new toys or costumes. Safe to say Steven was making far more than he did at the museum and missing rent was no longer a problem.

The idea of a Halloween special was something a few of his fans had mentioned, and he saw no reason not to. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t constantly drunk on the praise thrown at him, the very fact that he had a high subscriber count and tons of regulars did more to bolster him than therapy ever could.

What special things he’d do however, was something he was still stuck on. Besides the prop pieces and the new halloween themed thigh highs sent to his PO box by a subscriber that loved his ‘gazelle like legs’, he had nothing. Steven prided himself on putting effort into his streams, not half assing them, but with the event fast approaching he was left fumbling. On the morning of Halloween, he stared down the pumpkin and decided he could carve it on stream while edging himself with a toy, letting his viewers watch him get increasingly needy and bothered whilst doing a nice seasonal activity. It wasn’t his best idea, but it would have to do.

As the clock struck midnight, the stream began. Steven was curled in front of the camera, waving his hand down towards where the frame would see him.

“Evening everyone! Happy Halloween! Hope you’re all doing well, promise there will be only treats tonight, no tricks.”

When he first began streaming he was a nervous wreck, barely able to get a full sentence out coherently, but after a few months he felt a bit more at ease. He could ramble on about anything he wanted, from his newest French poetry book to niche Egyptology and so long as he was hard, no one cared. Some comments could be extremely vulgar, a few even hateful, but with the outpouring of love and lust directed and tailored towards him drowned it all out.

On went the stream, with Steven chatting with his viewers before bringing out the pumpkin and slowly carving it, taking his time so both he and his viewers would get worked up. The vibrator he attached to himself was linked up to his laptop, a nifty bit of tech that he barely figured out, but it meant that viewers could pay to turn up the intensity of the vibrator. 

Several times they did so, always catching him off guard and leaving him spluttering.

“O-Oi! You nearly made me mess up the carving, you cheeky thing.”

For an even higher price point, viewers could make their own unique requests for the stream. It had only happened twice before, both at Stevens discretion, and he certainly hadn’t expected it to happen now.

@red-hydra: “fuck the pumpkin”

Steven froze mid-carving, knife stuck halfway through a triangular eye, a choked moan escaping him as the vibrator buzzes violently at the wrong moment.

“Bloody hell, I- Y-You want me to… shag the pumpkin?” 

The chat was going by so fast he could barely keep up, but the few messages he could discern were all rabid to see him commit to the request.

“Alright, a-alright dears, um… I-I’ll try.”

Slowly Steven pulled the carving knife from the pumpkin, and angled it beside him, prodding the small hole with his finger and gasping at the wet innards. He hadn’t emptied it yet, and he wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad, but it meant there was no need for lube. 

With barely restrained trepidation Steven gently grabbed his weeping cock and placed it in front of the opening, gasping at the odd, cold sensation. After a deep breath he takes the plunge and pushes in, grunting at the tightness of the space before an open mouthed groan escaped him.

The feeling was absolutely unlike anything Steven had felt before. It was cold and almost slimy, but it was soft and spongy, and the small, snug space his penis had to fit through made his throbs all the more prominent. He couldn’t restrain the soft whimpers that left him, the way his hips bucked ever so slightly and desperately against his will.

Steven liked to take things slow for his streams, wanting to stretch them to an hour or two long max, however there were odd occasions were he couldn’t help himself. This was one of them.

His fingers were whitening with how hard he was gripping the pumpkin, his chest heaving at the sudden pleasure. It seemed his fans were lapping the sight of him up as the vibrator was constantly buzzing, hitting its highest settings over and over and over. It was too much, and Steven was left moaning without remorse against the walls of his flat, thrusting into the pumpkin as his thighs trembled with the onslaught of pleasure.

Only a few minutes in and he’d already made a mess, just like he was. Strings of pumpkin flesh stuck to the inside of his thighs, a small bead of precum was leaking down his shaft. The entire scene was one of wet and panting chaos, and the chat wasn’t any better.

Out of view of the camera, Steven managed to lift his head, peering at his screen through lust heavy eyes and groaned at what he saw. Comments were flooding, an array of encouragement, vulgar observations all overly descriptive and ravenous over him.

The barrage of compliments, the horde of people egging him on had him nearly piercing the pumpkin with his grip as he fucked into it with the full force of his hips, mewling and whining desperately for more.

It didn’t take long for him to break, cumming with a cry and a gasp, arching whorishly into the abused fruit as pearly white beads bubbled out of the small opening. Steven needed a few moments to gather himself, slowly pulling out of the pumpkin with a wince, finally aware of the stringy orange mess he’d made of himself.

He sat back on his haunches, glancing back towards the camera with a sigh and panting still.

“Well… That’s one way to make vegan pumpkin pie. Happy Halloween lovelies.”

#steven grant #moon knight #oscar isaac #omiwrites

[corpsebasil]

Very short little wholesome fluff to combat the absolute filth I just posted

Her heart was breaking.

She knew she didn’t have power, knew she would never be as strong as someone as Alina. She wanted to fight. She wanted to be a soldier like everyone else, to defend Ravka, to protect her home. But she still sat in the chapel inside the catacombs, staring at the wall, barely able to breathe against her grief.

“My darling.” Nikolai Lantsov, her best friend and closest companion, said, his eyes finding hers in the darkness. He approached, moving towards her, his appearance a bit disheveled after the attack at his engagement party.

She swallowed.

“Don’t you have a Sun Summoner to court?”

It wasn’t fair, she knew that, but her heart cracked every time she saw he and Alina together. And she’d been sick, hurling her dinner into the toilet, when he’d proposed to the Saint. The engagement party had been a new level of agony.

“Y/N, please.” He sighed, sitting on the bench beside her. He searched for the right words, unsure of where to begin, when she murmured out a sentence they made him want to break down.

“I’m leaving.” She said, still looking at the wall. She swallowed, eyes boring into stone as if she could break the material with her own eyes. “Some of the maids and healers are going to a safe house. They want me with them since I’m…well, not Grisha.”

“You’ll be protected, then.” He offered, forcing a note of cheerfulness into his tone. “Better than hauling ass through a war camp.” He laughed, but she didn’t, and his smile faded when he watched her try and keep her emotions contained, still refusing to look at him.

“I wish you were coming with me.” She said, eyes sliding to his. He was watching her, and the sorrowful look on his face made her chest tighten.

“I’m King, now, Y/N. I have to show a strong face in front of this. If I don’t the people will—”

“Yes, yes, I know.” She interrupted in a huff. She forced a smile, knocking her shoulder against his. “Never thought I’d see the day, Nik. Just yesterday you were skinny dipping in the lake and getting yourself punched in the nuts by—”

“Okay that’s enough.” He scoffed, but grinned, leaning over and propping his head on her shoulder.

Nikolai sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, relishing in a moment of peace before the chaos would begin. He let out a contented hum when she reached up to run her fingers through his hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp. He loved her, he really did. His best friend, his…he looked up at her, peering up at that lovely face, and thought about what it might be like to just give in and kiss her.

No. Now was not the time for any sorts of wild confessions, or even the entertainment of those sorts of thoughts. Not when both of them would soon be in danger. He prayed that she’d make it to the safe house in one piece, because if she didn’t…

“What are you thinking, Moi Tsar?” She teased, still messing with his hair. He grinned and pulled away, taking her hand and examining it, studying the lines and curves of her palm as if they were very, very important. “Nik.” She laughed, tugging at his grip, but he held onto her tighter, looking back up.

“If anything happens to me,” he started, voice low, his eyes scanning her features. “I want you to know that it would’ve been you, for me, if this whole…” He took a breath and cursed himself for not holding his words back, but something in him pressed on. “I’m just saying, when this is over, I’m going to try. I’m going to try and make a place for myself, a permanent place, in your life. Because that is—that is where I want to be.” He tilted his head when he saw her eyes softening, a small frown on her face. “Well don’t jump for joy, or anything.”

She laughed weakly and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close to her. He breathed in her scent, her cheek pressed against his own, before tugging back. Then he was removing the compass around his neck, his prized possession, and she shook her head quickly.

“No, Nik, I can’t take—”

“Just..so you can find your way home.” And back to me, he wanted to add, but didn’t. “Try not to miss me too much.”

She snorted and allowed him to place the necklace over her head, his hands lingering on it for a moment before letting go.

“I’ll see you.” He promised, as one of the maids came to the door to tell Y/N they were leaving. “I’ll see you after.”

She nodded, suddenly unable to speak, and gave him one last quick hug, arms tight around his neck, before she let go. And Nikolai watched her the entire time, watched until she vanished from sight, and knew, in his heart, that they would see each other again.

#shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #fluff

[lunar-years]

I am having so many Roy Kent thoughts this morning. Like, just how deeply lonely has that man been, for a very long time probably but especially the past year? He doesn't seem to have...friends? Like, sure, he has his fellow coaches, and he has Jamie. But it's not exactly like Ted's been in the correct headspace for most of the season to be pal-ing around with Roy in his free time, and Beard is friends with everyone and I expect has a million and one social commitments at all times, dictated first and foremost by Jane. We get the sense in the Chelsea episode of the sort of easy rep Roy had with the staff and community there, but also that he's cut himself off largely from all those good parts of his former life; clean break since the day he left. So by now, Roy's social life is fully just work and his 10 yr old niece...and eventually, Jamie Tartt.

Before he started training with Jamie, though, I fully think Roy was isolated and depressed as all hell, probably much more than he realized or ever acknowledged. Yes, he had the Club, and sometimes Phoebe in the evenings, but the rest of the time? Come home alone to his empty house that wasn't anything like Keeley's, and try to read his book, and make his dinner. Maybe watch some footie on the telly. Yoga once a week, if he's even still going, but in a way even that's lost its charm, because it's not like he can tell the mums anything, they don't even know who he really is! Try not to think too hard about how much he misses Keeley. Rinse & repeat. And the cycle becomes so unbearable that god, does he welcome training Jamie.

But even training Jamie, at first, is just...a way to extend work, isn't it? Work, work, work so he doesn't have to think about anything else, or linger on his own encroaching loneliness with the world. We don't see him and Jamie do anything but train until Amsterdam, which is the start of the breakthrough, and then until the very end of the season. Because Roy very stringently doesn't let Jamie into other parts of his life, even though he maybe (definitely) wants to. Jamie is part of work, not part of his personal life, and he forces himself to keep those rigid boxes up even after they've begun to bleed through. It's Jamie who has to push through them, slowly force his way in past Roy's defenses. And it's a good thing Jamie is a persistent little fucker, or Roy would well and truly have had no one.

And the whole time this is happening, Roy is forced to live with the fact that he's brought this all upon himself. He left Chelsea. He left Keeley. He's cut himself off from nearly every good thing in his life, and the worst part of all is, he can't stop doing it, even knowing it's made him miserable! even knowing he can't go on like this! He still can't bring himself to consciously allow Jamie fully into his life even as he increasingly relies on Jamie and their time together to keep him afloat. They're together all of the time, but for a long while, Roy won't even call him his friend.

Just...god, Roy is the most insane blender of fierce love and arrogance and protectiveness and repression and rage and self-hatred and self-sabotage and isolation and, and!! all the things he won't allow himself to have and all the people he won't allow to love him!! We wasted so much time on Shandy and Zava this season when we should have been cracking Roy Kent's skull open like a nut and examining every inch of his brain, me thinks.

#i need to write a character study of him asap tbh. no one sees how dark and dangerous and mysterious and repressed he is but me! #(jokes) #remember in Waterfalls when i wrote him comparing the end to his football career to an entire family perishing in a tragic plane crash? #in full seriousness? #yeah. that's the sort of deranged thinking I feel is happening in that man's brain at any point in time #he is soooooooooo!!!!! #also I genuinely think jamie saved him this season mentally. i really truly do. #ted lasso spoilers #roy kent #ted lasso meta #ted lasso

[ohforficsake]

The Margay: Chapter 8

Benadryl

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Summary: Santiago recruits Frankie to contract for a covert agency that pairs them with danger in more ways than one. A series of one-shot snippets taking place during and around missions.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC

Word Count: ~ 13.2K words (I made y'all wait, but you get all of this and two spicy scenes)

Rating: Explicit 18+ / fingering, car sex, dirty talk, unprotected piv, creampie, oral (f receiving), comeshot, come eating / language / mentions of past drug use / hostage extraction / canon-consistent violence / Minors DNI

A/N: I know nothing about fixing cars. I know nothing about helicopters. I know that these two love each other. Special guest appearance this chapter by Ben Miller. Benny fans, your boy is a menace and he's wonderful.

Thank you, thank you, thank you all for your lovely comments, for recommending this story, and for screaming with me about these two.

chapter moodboard if you're interested

Divider by @cafekitsune!

MONDAY

AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION IN HONDURAS.

“MOOSE,” Santiago barks at where Audrey’s bent double over the hood of a Land Rover as he slams their truck door. 

She doesn’t bother to drop what she’s doing, perimeter alarms two miles down the hill had already alerted her to their arrival.

One of them thwaks her on the ass and she knows it's Santi.

Frankie doesn’t do it like that.

“Whatcha got, what’s going on here?” He peers down at wires and tubes. 

“Auxiliary belt’s fucked, where’s my…”

“Catfish get over here, she’s talkin’ your shit, I’ve got no idea.” Pope calls over his shoulder, not realizing that “Frankie” and not the name of some obscure tool is actually the intended end of her sentence. “This thing armored?” He kicks a tire.

“Yep.”

A massive palm spreads over her back, the shadow of his body a cooling balm.

She looks up now.

“Hi,” Frankie smiles.

“Hi,” she grins over her shoulder, craning her neck back for a kiss, and Frankie briefly slips her his tongue because he’s never been able to resist a girl who’s good with her hands. 

“Serpentine belt?” He asks when she breaks away.

‘Yeah, it’s cracked to shit. Gonna swap the tensioner too. Let me get the breaker bar?”

“Like a different fucking language,” Pope quips as he opens the driver’s side door and slips inside.

And Frankie’s torn between letting her continue and wanting desperately to take over the job, lest a speck of grease mar her lovely skin. She’s clearly capable of doing this herself, but chivalry wins out and he grabs the long metal rod from the toolbox on the ground.

“Top or bottom?” Meaning which tensioner.

“Bottom, it’s got too much play in it,” she answers, pressing on the bearing to show him.

“Oh shit yeah, that’s loose.”

“God, get a room,” Santi quips from where he’s reclining in the driver’s seat, brim of his cap pulled low over his eyes against the sun.

“Why don’t you do something useful like unload the truck?” Frankie calls as he slots the breaker bar into place. “Hold on let me get a picture of how it’s sitting,” and he reaches in his back pocket as she slides her left arm in front of his face. She’s drawn the belt’s path on the inside of her forearm in pen to help with re-threading the new strip of rubber.

Frankie’s cock twitches.

She knows what she’s doing. 

She always does.

She would have done this without him.

And she lets him in anyway.

He applies pressure to the bar, forcing the tensioner away from the belt and Audrey reaches over him to slip the old rubber strap from the pulleys, her chest grazing his arm as she does.

God if Santiago wasn’t fucking here right now flits across his mind. 

If this isn’t all of his teenage fantasies come to life…

She has the belt off in seconds and disappears as he hits the inside of the breaker bar with his palm to unlatch it. Audrey returns with a wrench, new belt slung diagonally across her torso.

“Crack that nut off for me, baby?” She doesn’t need to tell him, but she enjoys needling Pope, who scoffs from his leather cradle.

Fish’s broad shoulders briefly strain under the cotton of his t-shirt as he gets it loose, winding it off the bolt with deft fingers. He slots the nut into his back pocket out of habit and the mechanism comes away in his hands. 

“Don’t need that, it came with one,” and Audrey dives in with the new tensioner, lining the lugs of the new part up before screwing the new nut part-way on. She slips the new belt off of where she’s wearing it and Frankie helps her line it up, pausing occasionally to check her arm for the positioning, landing a kiss on her shoulder here, dragging his nose up her tricep there. 

Once they have the belt back in place, Frankie tightens the nut on the new tensioner and they both step back.

“Oi,” Frankie pounds on the headlight to get Santiago’s attention. 

“Start her up?” Audrey rests one hand on her hip and shields her eyes with the other.

Santi gropes around for the keys before starting the truck and Audrey and Frankie let it run for a second before stepping forward to inspect their work. 

“Yeah, looks good.” 

“Sounds better than it did,” Audrey adds. 

Fish raises his voice to be heard over the engine, “shut her off, Pope.”

Frankie fiddles around, checking the tightness on all of the bolts within his reach before they work together to replace the fanbelt shroud and reconnect the air filter pipes.

“Where in the hell did you learn to do that?” Fish rubs the heels of his palms together when it’s through, squinting against the sun.

Audrey slams the hood closed. “Friend with a Messerschmitt has a thing for old cars too.” 

Frankie’s gotta meet this guy.

But right now he has a more–pressing–problem and he excuses himself with a “gotta hit the head.” He figures cool water on the back of his neck will unwind him enough that he can face them again.

_____

Hours later the three of them are hunched over the dining table, staring daggers at a site plan that’s dotted with an array of plastic army figurines.

There’s a poker chip in the center. A four-year-old hostage that needs extracting. The daughter of a diplomat being held for political leverage.

None of them are happy about it.

But they’re also among the handful of people in the world who can get her out alive. 

Each of them feels that obligation acutely.

“We need another man,” Audrey crosses her arms over her chest.

“The compound is just too big. Too many fucking people,” Santi scratches at his beard. “If we need Fish in the bird ready to run, that’s already too sparse. And if we need you up here,” he points to tight concentric circles on the plan that signify high ground, “keeping the path to the bird clear, I can get in quietly, no problem, but I can’t get out with a hostage in tow.”

“What if I go with you?” Frankie pipes up, “it takes less than 90 seconds to get this in the air,” he points at a toy helicopter with an index finger.

“90 seconds could be too long. And god forbid something happens to you in there and you can’t fly that bird,” she taps inside the building. “Then we have two sets of dead weight and a hornet’s nest on high alert. I wouldn’t be able to get there in time to fly everyone  out.”

Pope twirls a pen between his fingers and Frankie places and replaces the helicopter at different points around the map before returning it to its original position at the private airstrip.

“That’s the only spot that works. Anywhere else draws attention and/or goes against the intel on their route,” he concludes, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and middle fingers. 

“How do we know that’s not drawing attention anyway?” Santi bites the inside of his cheek as he gestures at the helicopter.

“There’s been a nature documentary crew in and out of that airstrip for weeks. The bird Davis’ guys lined up is  the same make and model with all the same markings,” Frankie answers. “It’s just bulletproof.”

Santi turns to Audrey, “can he get someone else out here?” Meaning their boss.

“Getting someone out here isn’t the problem, getting someone out here that I trust is. Everyone I knew in there is long gone.”

“You still got any friends?” Santi’s brow knits.

“Not ones who do this kind of shit anymore.”

“Pope,” Frankie pipes up after a beat. “Ben?”

“Yeah,” Santiago lights up, “yeah, you think he’d be up for it?”

Frankie shrugs, “worth a shot. Benny’s down for anything.”

“Ben is…Miller?” Her brain reaches back and spits out what she can remember of the Lorea briefing and bits of the stories they’ve told about a “Benny.”

“Yeah.” They both look at her expectantly. 

They need the final party’s buy-in.

“Tell me more.”

“He’s solid. Ready to do whatever it takes to get a job done,” Santi starts.

“A bit brash at times, maybe,” Frankie tempers Pope’s enthusiasm. “A little wild when he drinks, a little hot under the collar,” he scratches at this beard. “But not in the way that disobeys orders.”

“He runs clean during a mission, Aud. Doesn’t like an operation that doesn’t go to plan. Doesn’t leave messes. Puts his own life on the line when it matters.” Santi says firmly. “Might be a bit of an adjustment period though.” 

“Might be.” Francisco apparently agrees.

“In what way.” She stares them both down.

“He, uh…might have a little bit of a hard time taking your orders at first.” Santi runs a hand through his hair.

“He’ll push you a bit,” Frankie again scratches at his chin. “Not because he wants to run it.”

“Just because he doesn’t know you,” Santi finishes, arms crossed, hip resting against the edge of the table. “But he’ll fall in line.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“He uh,” Santi takes his eyes over her form, “might come on a bit strong,” Santi says.

“He’s gonna want to fuck you, Aud.” Frankie translates.

“That I can handle. All of this I can handle. Do you trust him?” Her green gaze slides between the two men.

“I do.” Pope answers with conviction. 

Frankie responds, “with my life.”

She stares hard at Frankie before drumming her fingers on the table. “Okay. I’d like not to lose time and waste the intel on this. Davis can have a screen run on him tonight if he’s game. Can he get on a plane tomorrow?”

“I’ll ask,” Frankie sits up and reaches for his phone. 

It dings in response thirty seconds later. 

“He’s in.”

And she immediately slips her cell phone out of her back pocket, stepping into the other room to make arrangements with Davis. 

_____

“Nothing more to do tonight. We’re gonna take this thing out on a test run,” Frankie tips the brim of his cap up far enough to swipe curls off of his forehead as he makes his way through the kitchen.

“It’s 9pm, it’s dark,” and no sooner is it out of Santiago’s mouth than he catches Frankie’s drift.

“Mind your business, Pope.”

“Roger,” Santi turns back to his beer and the baseball game he’s watching on his phone. “If you aren’t back by midnight I’m calling in a BOLO for two idiots fucking in the back seat of a Land Rover.”

“I was actually in the mood to do it on the hood,” Audrey quips as she appears at the foot of the stairs.

“Fine, just don’t leave come stains that I have to look at when I’m driving it tomorrow.”

“No promises,” Audrey winks and Pope scoffs.

Frankie slaps him on the shoulder on his way out the door.

“Lucky fuckin’ bastard,” Pope murmurs under his breath and takes a swig of beer.

_____

Half an hour later, Frankie has her naked in the sea, legs wrapped around his waist, lips at her throat before the brim of his cap knocks her in the chin.

“Francisco, what is the deal with this thing, you shower with it on?” She reaches to spin it around backwards.

“Just my favorite hat,” he returns to sucking on her collarbone, tongue accepting the bitter burn of salt water so long as it’s laced with the taste of her skin.

“What is Standard Heating Oil?”

“No clue. Found it in the dollar bin at Goodwill one day.”

“Fascinating.” He has no tie to this hat save for the fact that it’s his and it goes everywhere with him.

“Used to get made fun of as a kid. For having curly hair,” he tucks his chin into the juncture of her shoulder.

The brush of his beard tickles her skin as he continues.

“Just always preferred to cover it up, I guess.”

Audrey takes the hat off and slips it backwards onto her own head. 

Her fingers wind in his curls.

And she holds him without prying.

“Used to get made fun of a lot as a kid. My hair. My nose. Wasn’t really into sports either.”

“You’ve just named some of the things I like most about you,” Audrey kisses at his jaw. “What were you into, Frankie?” She whispers.

“Liked to read, I suppose,” he muses.

And she hums, nuzzling her face into Frankie’s shoulder. “I like that about you too.”

He’s warm and open like this as they listen to the soft lap of waves against the shore. She holds him as if it could seep into her bones.

After a moment Frankie whispers, “I, um. I used to—not—be good at handling all of this. My past and my present.”

And she pulls back a fraction to gaze softly into dark eyes.

“I used to use.”

And her hand in his hair strokes gently over the nape of his neck as un-shed tears set brown eyes swimming.

“Coke. I just kind of fell off the wagon,” he nods like he needs her to agree that this doesn’t change him. 

Audrey holds his face in her palms, thumbs gently skimming over the apples of his cheeks.

“Got hit with a license suspension a few years ago. Then Pope came through with the Lorea job and that—that didn’t—” he trails off.

“Ended up getting the license back but—”

Frankie stares over her right shoulder out into the horizon.

“Everything else fell ap—”

And Audrey presses her lips to his because she doesn’t know what more to do than allow her body to speak where the prospect of words seems trite in comparison. She presses her lips to his cheek and wraps her arms tight to his neck until he returns her hold, tighter than before.

“I haven’t, though,” he murmurs against her skin, nodding his head again.

“In two years. I haven’t used.”

And she knows what lives in the spaces between those words.

I haven’t used since you.

And it terrifies her.

I can’t save you.

I can’t fix you.

I can’t be that for you, Frankie.

And yet.

She is. 

He’s quiet for a long while in her arms. Body slowly giving up its tension to the water before he murmurs, “you float, baby.”

And her brow furrows in the moonlight.

“I sink. In the ocean,” he muses as he pulls back to look at her. “You’re like a life vest.”

And Audrey chances a joke, looking down at her full chest and muttering, “well…”

Frankie’s tongue darts out to lick at his bottom lip. “Nuh uh this too,” his hands slip down to grip hard at her ass.

And whatever that was before has passed.

Audrey welcomes it with a laugh and a kiss at his jaw. 

“I missed you,” he whispers and again fits his chin into the curve of her shoulder.

“Oh, Francisco,” she sighs and presses her nose to his wet hair, inhaling the salted smell of him.

“I know it’s only been three weeks,” he starts to apologize. 

For his attachment.

“I missed you too,” she preempts and arches into him, gripping his neck tighter.

“Can I tell you something?” Frankie pulls back, whispering against her chin.

“Of course,” is her answer, but she stiffens ever so slightly.

Because he’s said it far too intimately.

And mercifully more than three words tumble out of his mouth.

“I saw you fixing that truck today,” he noses at her jaw to whisper against her lips. “I could have fucked you right there on the hood.”

“Oh yeah?” Audrey whispers with the beginnings of a smirk playing on her lips.

“I was so fucking hard.” 

“Is that why you ran away?” She laughs. “You know Pope was half asleep.”

“Yeah, but you’re loud, baby,” he lets out a sly murmur. “Would have been a hell of a wakeup call.”

“Ah, and you’re quiet as a church mouse.”

Frankiee grins with guilty teeth in his bottom lip. 

“Could have taken me with you,” she presses her lips to his, opening just a fraction to allow his tongue into her mouth, “to wherever you absconded to.”

“The lady deserves better.”

“Mm, like the hood of a car?”

“Done.”

She lets him go and starts racing towards the shore.

Frankie follows after her, catching her around the waist and hoisting her onto the hood of the Rover, massive hand hooked around the nape of her neck with a grin splitting his face.

Audrey reaches for him, hand wrapping around the girth of his half-hard cock, working him as his forehead briefly thumps against hers. 

“Oh, fuckk—,” Frankie hisses. “Baby. Baby, baby, baby—” he rumbles through the lowest registers of his voice as the fingers of one hand trail up the back of her calf. Frankie’s palm settles on one knee before he roughly pushes her thighs open wider. 

“Look at me,” he whispers.

Audrey slants her gaze down at him as he stares back from under hazy half-closed lids.

Frankie slips his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, sucking the salt from them as her jaw drops open, brows knitted with want. His fingers slip between her folds in time with his tongue between her teeth to deliver the taste of salt to her the moment his fingers slip inside.

“Wet already? Ohh baby,” Frankie purrs into her mouth. “My pretty, dirty baby,” he pants, hips thrusting his cock into her fist now.

She moans into his mouth and arches, pressing her breasts against his chest before she freezes.

“Frankie, get in the car.”

“I want you right here,” he skates his nose up her neck.

“Frankie, there’s a truck coming, get the fuck inside.”

And no sooner does she say it than his ears catch the distant whine of a diesel engine winding up the coastal highway.

“Oh, fuck,” he chuckles, corseting her waist in his generous hands and picking her up off the hood, making sure she has her feet before grabbing the pile of their clothes from off the hood. 

They dive into the backseat of the truck, Audrey first and Frankie close behind such that they end up a tangle of limbs, leather squeaking under wet skin. 

Frankie drapes himself over her, a wet curl falling into his eyes as he peeks up out of the window, tracking the truck’s path.

“Fifty meters,” he reports before mumbling “fuck, I’m sorry baby,” as Audrey shifts under him where knees and elbows fell at painful angles.

“‘S okay, how are we doing?” She glances up at the thick column of his neck above her.

“Ten meters,” Frankie counts it down, “five,” he ducks down out of view momentarily before tracking the truck the other way. 

“I think we’re clear, baby.” 

And the moonlight streaming through the sunroof catches in her eyes, turning them a shade of seafoam. 

Illuminating something that he can’t quite unpack right now through the haze of lust.

Frankie fits his mouth to hers again, suddenly possessed with the need to feel. His palm slides down to cup one breast, pinching her nipple before spreading wide over her ribcage. 

He runs greedy fingertips over her skin as he moves, kissing at her stomach and biting at her inner thigh.

She props herself up on her elbows and takes his cap from her head, tossing it onto the driver’s seat before raking a hand through her curls and reaching for his cheek.

He turns his face to kiss her palm.

And Frankie almost lets something slip on a sigh.

“I—”

“Need you,” he swallows hard. “I need you, Aud,” Frankie’s voice is a cracked whisper when he pauses to look up at her. 

“Have me, Frankie.”

And he again kisses her palm before sucking her thumb into his mouth, crawling back up her body. His right hand snakes down to pump his cock, the other fitting into the crease of her thigh. 

“Are you—?” He murmurs against her lips.

“Frankie—” she chokes on a desperate breath and he thrusts inside of her such that they both cry out, Audrey’s nails sinking into his tricep, Frankie’s mouth open, teeth catching at her jawline. 

“Oh God,” he rests his forehead against hers as she tangles her fingers in his wet curls, tipping her face to suck on his bottom lip.

“Frankie, move,” she urges and he does, slowly at first. Long, deep strokes before he sits up, hands settling on her hips as his speed builds. 

He’s not slow about chasing his own release. 

One knee on the floorboards, the other foot hiked up on the seat with her leg over his hip, fingers digging into the curve of her waist, yanking her against him to meet his every thrust. Audrey braces one hand against the door, and the other on the back of the seat.

Frankie’s a man in a trance. 

Breath hissing through clenched teeth, gaze fixed on where he sinks inside of her. A curl falls loose across a forehead growing damp with sweat. 

Audrey arches in his hold, “you feel so good Frankie.”

“You’re so tight, baby.” 

When he reaches up to grip one shoulder he pulls her ass clear off the seat.

But even in this one-track haze Frankie is quick to protect her, arm looping around the small of her back, and the other coming to the crown of her head, guarding it against the roof as he twists to sit on the seat with her on top of him. 

He pauses a moment with wide, panicked eyes, as though he’s surprised even himself. 

“Smooth, Morales,” she grabs his face between her hands and slips her tongue into his mouth. “Very. Fucking. Smooth.”

And she’s in control now. 

Audrey leans back to brace her hands on his thighs, rolling her hips, allowing them both to feel every inch of each other. Frankie’s head falls back into the space between the headrests, hands roaming her skin, squeezing at her breasts, fingers fitting into the spaces between her ribs, thumbs running down over her abs before settling below her navel, feeling how his cock fills her from the outside. 

“Oh shit,” Frankie’s head snaps back, lip curled as he watches in lurid fascination. Audrey indulges him for a moment before she shifts forward, one hand on the seat, the other on his chin. 

“Look at me.”

And he angles big brown eyes up at her before she kisses him with an open mouth. 

Frankie licks warm and wet down her neck, sucking at the salt of her skin mixed with seawater. He buries his nose between her breasts as he meets her hips halfway, palms skating over her back, one hand tangling in the curls at the base of her neck.

It’s too much when she meets his gaze again.

The way that lust has blown her green eyes dark. The way that plush lips hang open and wet from his tongue. The humid heat of bodies and the smack of flesh.

The way she looks at him with something he can’t name.

And Frankie can’t hold back anymore. He’s rough with her now. Building with frantic speed that has her bracing one palm against sunroof glass with her head thrown back, the sound of skin-on-skin echoing around the truck.

“Fuck, you’re so deep,” she keens.

“Yeah?”

He knows.

One hand moves to cup the base of her skull and roughly pulls her face back to his. 

“You like that?” Frankie presses his forehead to hers, grabbing her hard by the hips, and thrusts up hard into her cunt.

“Fuck,” she whispers.

“Yeahh you do,” he smirks, tipping his face to kiss her. “I know what my girl likes.”

He holds her hips, fully inside of her, the head of his cock pressed deep, guiding her back and forth to grind against him. Putting pressure on her clit. 

“Frankie, Frankie, Fr—ohh,” she breathes.

She can feel him smile against her mouth. 

“You gonna come for me, baby?”

She moans and tries to roll her hips but Frankie’s fingers dig in. 

“My pace, baby.”

And she groans in frustration.

“No, none of that,” he chuckles darkly, one hand sliding along the crease of her hip to rub circles against her clit.

Audrey digs the nails of one hand into the seat and wraps the other hand around the back of Frankie’s neck.

His tongue slips back into her mouth and he rolls his hips without pulling out, just barely teasing at that spot deep inside of her that makes her fall apart. 

“Jesus, Frankie,” she throws her head back. He watches her chest heave. The way the curves of her breasts catch the moonlight shining through the sunroof. He latches his mouth to one, tongue laving over sensitive skin.

The hand on the back of his neck grips hard at his hair and Frankie slips the flat of his teeth over her nipple before she tugs, bringing his mouth back to hers.

Frankie’s arm wraps around the small of her back as his thumb and his hips speed up, growling now. She reaches down, skating her hand over where his rests. Her fingers replace his thumb on her clit and Frankie squeezes the globes of her ass.

“Frankie, I don’t think…”

“Turn around,” he commands.

And she arches an eyebrow, slowly climbing off of him, both moaning at the loss of contact. Frankie urges her around, a palm skating between her shoulder blades, pressing her forward to lean against the back of the passenger’s seat. She languidly drapes her arms over either side of the headrest. 

Frankie shifts on the seat and slowly sinks inside of her again.

“Ohh fuck,” she sighs, forehead thumping against leather. 

Frankie spreads his thighs wider.

“Sit, baby,” but he doesn’t allow her time to react before yanking her down onto his lap, fully sheathed inside of her. He moves slowly at first testing this new angle before leaning forward, dropping kisses down her spine.

“That better?”

And she hums a laugh, glancing back over her shoulder. Frankie’s eyes flick up to her and he grins, nipping at her skin. 

He hooks a hand over her shoulder as he fucks her with the other on her waist, building in pace until his hips lift off the seat with every thrust as she bucks her hips back against him. Audrey reaches between her legs to rub her clit and Frankie growls.

“Yeah, baby.”

And the angle is perfect now and Audrey starts to cry out from the depths of her chest. “Frankie, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it, that’s—OH.” She braces her free hand on the back of the seat and Frankie feels his balls tighten when she pushes back against him as pleasure sears through her.  

Frankie slows his thrusts, moaning as her walls milk his cock.

Audrey finally exhales on a ragged cry and Frankie wraps an arm around her waist to pull her against his skin as hips pick up speed, chasing his own release. 

She arches in his hold, head falling back against his shoulder. Frankie hips snap hard with a shout as his cock pulses, his body shuddering with it. 

Nose smashing against her cheekbone. 

Teeth softly nipping at her jaw.

Audrey reaches up to cup his cheek, lips pressing softly to the corner of his mouth. Frankie kisses her properly, slow and wet as palms rub across her stomach, up her ribs and over her breasts as his tongue slips into her mouth.

The windows of the Rover have gone foggy with heat.

He wraps his arms around her waist and holds her to him, softening cock still inside of her, chest heaving as she moans softly through ragged breaths, still tingling.

Frankie kisses at her cheek and up to her temple before whispering, “was that…?”

“So good.” She shifts and Frankie holds her tighter, head thumping against hers.

“Don’t. Don’t leave me yet,” he pants.

“Frankie,” she scratches lovingly at his scalp. “Baby. I really have to pee.”

And he laughs a self-satisfied laugh against her hairline.

“Okay,” he shifts her, pulling out of her heat with a moan. “Wait,” he holds her with an iron arm around her waist, swiping a hand through the fog on the window, checking that it’s clear before he cracks the door. 

He shifts her onto the seat as he steps out first.

“I’m a big girl, Frankie, I can…”

He holds both hands out to her, corseting her waist, intending to half lift her down onto the beach. “You’re gonna fall, Bambi Legs.”

And she can’t help the hearty laugh that it pulls from her.

True to form, her legs falter the moment her feet hit the sand, but Frankie holds her to his chest, staring down at her through warm brown eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear with a wink. 

Frankie kisses her on the forehead and spins her around towards a small outcropping of rocks. “Go on, Bambi,” he swats her on the ass.

“Can I have my underwear at least?”

“No,” Frankie screws up his face and scoffs, reaching into the tangle of clothes in the backseat to fish out her thong. He has it crushed to his nose when he turns around.

“Perv,” she quips with a grin, swatting him on the arm with them after he hands them over.

She returns to find Frankie leaning against a tire, back door open, barefoot and clad in his jeans and cap, one of her cigarettes dangling between his lips. 

“Excuse me, sir, you can’t smoke there,” she quips as she molds her body against his, slipping her hands into his back pockets. Frankie lights the cigarette and blows the first puff out of the corner of his mouth before holding it to her lips. She inhales before Frankie follows suit.

Audrey pulls away from him, reaching for her sports bra and linen pants. Frankie presses his chest to her back after she pulls them both on, reaching for his t-shirt.

“Leave it,” she spins around and Frankie pops the cigarette between her lips as she runs her hand over his bare stomach.

“Yes, ma’am.” Frankie smiles before his eyes fall on the backseat. 

“We gotta clean this.”

Audrey slips around him, cigarette dangling from her lips, and pops the trunk open, rummaging around for a moment before tossing a packet of Clorox wipes in his direction.

Frankie cleans the seats as she starts the truck and rolls the windows down.

They drive back to the safehouse along the coastal road in companionable silence, wind whipping around the cabin, carrying wisps of cigarette smoke on salted breeze. 

Audrey drives with one hand, fingers of the other laced with Frankie’s.

_____

TUESDAY

When Santiago slips into the driver’s seat the next day for their early morning recon run, the first thing he does is briefly peer over the top of his sunglasses.

“Goddard, I can see your ass-print on the hood.”

“How do you know that’s not Morales,” she quips from the backseat.

“Morales has no ass.”

“Well, you said no come stains.” She pops her gum in the backseat as she loads another magazine into her rifle. “Nothing about ass prints.”  

Frankie pulls the brim of his cap down against Pope’s searing stare and bites the inside of his cheek to hide his smirk.

“Unbelievable,” Santi starts the ignition. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably good at fixing that belt.” Frankie quips, banging one palm on the dashboard as they pull out of the drive.

“Fuck you, Fish.”

“She did that already.”

Audrey cackles from the backseat.

_____

Six hours later, Benny shows up on the doorstep of their safehouse.

Audrey greets him in leggings and a worn green t-shirt. 

“Well hell-o,” Benny peers down at her over the frames of his aviators.

“Miller?”

“Yup, yeah. Ben Miller,” he holds out his hand. 

“Audrey Goddard,” she offers a sturdy shake. “Come in, come in. The boys are just through in the back here,” she gestures through to the backyard.

Fish and Pope are locked in a sparring match, Frankie’s arm around Pope’s throat, wooden knife pulled out, ready to jab between Santi’s ribs before Pope taps him twice on the arm.

“Boys?’ Audrey calls.

Both of their heads turn in her direction and immediately they erupt in camaraderie. 

Hugs and claps on the back, big smiles all around. 

Audrey slips back inside, allowing them a moment to catch up.

After they’ve said their hellos Benny nods towards the house, “so uh, who’s that? She come with the place?”

“Moose? Nah. She’s running this thing.” Santi grins. 

“Like the coordinator?”

“No, like the Mission Commander, Benny.” Frankie scoffs. 

“No shit,” Benny perches his hands on his hips.

“Well. She technically outranks you,” Santi whacks Benny’s chest with the back of his hand. “Don’t overstep.”

And overstep is the first thing that Benny does.

“So you’re the Mission Commander?” Benny barks when she returns.

“Yes,” Audrey sets a fresh pitcher of water on the patio table.

“What’s your background?”

“I’ll have Davis email you my full roster,” she slips dark shades over her eyes against the sharp afternoon sun.

“Can’t tell me yourself?”

“We don’t have that much time.”

“What branch?”

“Never served under a branch.”

“So you never served.”

“I’ve been serving for almost 25 years, Miller.”

“Benny, did you not get—” Santi starts.

“I did. Didn’t read it.” Benny’s eyes are still locked on hers from behind mirrored aviators. “Alright,” he nods toward the lawn. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Frankie lets out a low whistle. “You’re about to be humbled, Benjamin.”

“Maybe,” he calls, not believing it for a second. “You’re tiny, though,” he says to Audrey, who slips off her shades and tosses them to Frankie.

Audrey’s no waif, but Benny is nine inches taller and has fifty pounds on her. 

And Benny fights guys bigger than he is down at the gym all the time. And wins. 

There’s no way in his mind that she can best him. 

“Take those off, pretty boy,” she points at his shades.

“‘S fine.”

“Alrigh,” she toes at the dirt, “not on me if they break.”

“Alright, keep it clean you two. No punches, no kicks, nothing permanent,” Santi calls. “Aud, you got knives on you?”

She reaches into her boots and pulls two out to hand over.

“Benny?”

“Nah, I just got off a plane, man.”

“Alright, set it up.”

 Benny jumps a few times before holding his fists up to his cheeks in a guard.

Audrey drops her right foot back and crouches.

And Santi gives the cue.

Immediately Benny closes the distance between the two of them, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder like a ragdoll. She’s quick to react, twisting to hook the inside of her elbow around the back of her knee, pulling tight such that the crease of her hip and the top of her thigh apply pressure on Benny’s neck, choking off his carotid artery.

He has no choice but to tap out, aviators hanging awkwardly off of the end of his nose.

“Okay,” he finally hands them off to Santi, raking his hair out of his eyes, “two out of three.”

Santi gives the signal again and Benny goes for her knees this time, immediately dropping her to the ground. They tussle for a moment before Audrey locks Benny in a triangle choke that he can’t find his way out of.

He taps out against her collarbone.

“Okay, three tries,” Benny grunts, blue shirt starting to darken with sweat.

“Benny, that’s—” Fish tries to intervene.

“It’s fine, Frankie,” Audrey’s chest is heaving as she holds up a hand in his direction. “Let him have it.”

They get back into position and when Santi gives the signal Benny is immediately behind her, trapping her neck in a chokehold between his arms, huge palm applying pressure to the back of her skull.

Frankie twitches but Santi holds out a hand.

Audrey jumps with her legs in the air, using their weight to swing Benny forward, turning as she lands and slipping her head from between his arms. Benny braces himself on his palms and immediately constricts, balling himself in an effort to cut off her ability to hook any of his limbs. In a flash she leans on his back, wrapping an arm over one shoulder and the other under the opposite armpit, prying one elbow away from his torso with a jab of her knee. Her leg hooks it and kicks back, taking Benny’s arm with it to its full span. She locks the top of her foot over her calf with his outstretched limb between her legs and spreads her knees, the pressure from her hips bending Benny’s arm the wrong way until he frantically slaps at a patch of dirt.

She instantly unfolds from him and rolls away into the grass.

“Alright,” he pants, holding out a fist, still face-down on his stomach. “You win.”

Audrey taps it with her own knuckles, fighting for breath. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Benny swallows hard through his panting, “Yeah I’m good.”

He sits up and stretches his arm for good measure.

“Can we be done here?” Frankie asks, unsure that his heart can handle seeing her in danger, and positive that his dick is going to act up seeing her get herself out of it. “It’s fuckin’ hot.”

They take turns with showers between the safehouse’s two bathrooms, until Frankie slips in with Audrey.

“Thoughts?” He asks quietly, wetting his hair under the spray.

“He made good choices out there,” she hands him the bottle of shampoo. “Smart in a fight.”

“Yeah, Benny fights down at the local gym. Kind of a small-town celebrity.” He sneaks a kiss at the nape of her neck as he scrubs at his scalp before rinsing. “I didn’t know you could do that, though.” 

“Getting too old for much hand-to-hand these days,” she winks over her shoulder at him as he grabs the conditioner bottle from her, raking cream through her curls before slicking the excess through his own hair.

“He got you good back here,” Frankie delicately runs thick fingers over the bruises blossoming on the wings of her hip bones from when Benny took her knees out from under her. 

Frankie wraps his arms around her waist, holding her to his chest a moment.

“Don’t like seeing you like that.”

“This is what we do, Frankie,” she soothes a palm over his forearm.

“Yeah.”

And he gently turns her head to slip his tongue into her mouth, enjoying this moment to themselves.

Frankie warmed by the water. 

Audrey warmed by Frankie.

_____

They rejoin the boys in the kitchen where Santi has started on steaks and Benny has thrown in to whip up roasted vegetables. 

Frankie cracks open beers and passes them around.

Afternoon flows into evening. Beer flows into liquor. 

Camaraderie abounds.

Somewhere around 10pm, when Audrey excuses herself to the restroom, the whiskey in Benny’s veins springs a question loose.

“Alright, boys,” his voice is low. “Which one of you is hittin’ that because if you’re not, I’m gonna.”

“That’s pretty bold of you to assume she’d have you, Benny,” Pope reaches for his glass.

“It’s that white boy confidence,” Frankie quips from where he’s leaned back in his chair and Santi snorts, nearly spitting out his drink.

“I mean—” and Benny makes a show of running his hand through his hair. “But seriously, is she single?”

“She’s not gonna fuck you, Benny.” Santi grins.

“Alright, okay. I see you, Pope,” Benny smacks the back of his hand against Santi’s arm.

“I think I have to turn in, boys,” Audrey sighs when she returns, reaching for her glass without sitting and tossing back the last of her gin. “We’ll run it through top to bottom tomorrow and get you geared up,” she nods at Benny. “I have Davis’ guys refreshing the intel. Provided everything still checks out, we’ll execute on Thursday as originally planned.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Benny nods. Bourbon eyes starting to fall heavy on the sway of her hips. 

She places her glass in the sink before moving to gently grab Frankie’s chin one hand, thumb and middle fingers fitting in the bare patches in his beard, and bends to give him a quick, chaste kiss.

He hooks an arm around her waist when she moves away, hauling her against him again, “I’ll be there in a sec,” he assures her before craning his head up for her lips again.

“No rush,” she soothes a hand over the span of his chest, “I might be back down for water, but you boys enjoy. G’night.”

When she’s upstairs and out of earshot, Benny erupts in hushed tones.

“CATFISH, YOU DOG.”

Frankie grins and blushes in that order.

“Damn,” Benny muses to himself as he takes another sip of whiskey. “I would not have guessed.”

“Ah c’mon you should know better, Benny.” Santi jabs a thumb in Frankie’s direction. “Big Dick Morales, remember?”

“BIG. DICK. MORALES.” And Benny holds his hand up for a high-five that Frankie rolls his eyes at, crossing his arms against his chest instead. “Damn.”

“Bastard finally found his glass slipper,” Santi quips.

“Jesus Christ, Pope,” an agitated Frankie rubs at his eyes. “Okay can we—” Frankie winds his hand forward through the air, wanting desperately to move away from this line of conversation. 

Benny leans in across the table, finger pointed at the ceiling in reference to the woman upstairs, “the whole thing? Fuuuck.”

“Dude, you can hear the two of them like three rooms over,” Santi snarks.

“Oh well you gotta enlighten us, Catfish,” Benny spreads his arms and leans back in his chair.

“I ain’t tellin’ you shit, Benjamin.” Frankie quips, swallowing a mouthful of whiskey.

“Ah, c’mon, Fish. You know me and this one are painfully single.” Benny smacks Pope on the arm again. Like literally, my balls ache.”

“That’s not a real thing,” Frankie shakes his head.

“It is!”

“Then get acquainted with your hand, Benny, I dunno what to tell you.”

“She is smokin’ hot, Catfish. Can I at least get some material here…”

Frankie shakes his head and starts, “I’d suggest you try www dot p-o-r…”

And there’s a snort from the stairwell

Audrey in black sleep shorts and a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt, metal waterbottle in hand.

And she watches the tips of Benny’s ears start to burn.

Even Santiago sits up a bit straighter.

Frankie covers the smirk on his face with the heel of his palm.

Because he knows Audrey’s about to put Benny back in line for the second time today.

“Don’t let me stop you, boys,” she pads over to the sink on bare feet to fill her bottle.

Fraught silence hangs in the air until Benny pipes up.

“We uh, we were just asking Big Dick Morales over here to tell us his secret.” Bourbon has made Benny’s tongue loose. “Seems like you could have anyone and yet you chose this guy. Must know something we don’t.”

Audrey has a measured tolerance for many things. 

Slandering her lover is not one of them. 

“Benny,” she places her water bottle on the table. “Benjamin?” And she drapes her arm across Benny’s shoulders in a move that sends him rigid in his chair from the slouch he was in.

“You really want to know his secret?”

Benny swallows hard. 

“He’s sweet. He’s smart. He’s funny. There’s no peacocking with him. It’s that easy, Benny.”

Benny snorts like he doesn't believe her. 

Sober Ben Miller would never steal a friend’s girl. Drunk Ben Miller is a 6’3” blue-eyed, dirty dishwater blonde who’s never been told ‘no.’

And Audrey needs to disavow him of whatever little fantasy he has that distracts him from the task at hand and makes him think she’ll end up in his bed after the celebratory round of drinks when this is all through.

She cranes low to whisper near Benny’s ear, eyes glinting where they’re locked on Frankie’s mischievous, half-lidded ones. “Okay, here’s a secret, Benny. You ever found that spot that’s so deep it makes your lady see stars? Not the one up front, any idiot can find that. It’s way back in there, tucked away because it’s the most precious place you’ll ever go. That one spot that sets her whole body reeling for minutes afterward. You ever found that?”

And she waits until Benny answers, “no.”

“No? Santi, you ever done that?” She doesn’t move, and doesn’t break Frankie’s stare as she asks it.

“Once or twice,” it’s the truth, but Santiago smirks because he knows what she’s doing and agrees that it needs done. “It’s been years though.”

“Wild. Frankie hits that every. time.”

She claps him on the back, “you should try it, Benny. Good communication is key, but you’ll get there.”

And she hooks a finger into the cap of her water bottle and heads for the stairs.

Frankie throws them a salute with two fingers and follows right behind her.

“Was that too harsh?” She whispers when Frankie turns the lock on the bedroom door, brown eyes wide.

“Baby,” he grabs her around the waist, peppering her face with the softness of his lips and the scrape of his scruff. “That was so. fucking. sexy.” He trails his nose down her neck, licking and sucking at her skin.

“I only told the truth, Francisco,” she throws her arms around his neck.

And Frankie presses her to him, palm accidentally catching on her bruises and she winces.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he apologizes with lips on her neck.

“‘S okay,” a kiss, “get in bed, Frankie.”

Frankie hums, tongue licking behind her teeth. 

And she crawls under the duvet, settling on her side as Frankie quietly strips down to his boxer briefs, placing his cap on the nightstand.

Frankie hums as his lips find her ear and his hand cups her breast, making her arch back against him with a moan.

“Shhh baby,” Frankie soothes. “Not sure how thin these walls are.”

“Pope doesn’t give a shit.”

“Benny might. Wouldn’t want to scare the kid.”

“That’s a grown man, Francisco,” she whispers as she twists in his hold, hand cupping his jaw. “And I don’t really care what Benny hears,” her fingers slip down his stomach, nails catching on the trail of hair leading under his waistband.

She smirks against his lips, “how did that conversation even start?”

“Mhmm,” Frankie squeezes her thigh and pulls her closer to him, nose skimming her cheek. “Benny wanted to know if you’re single.”

“Am I not?”

“No. You’re mine.”

And he moves before Audrey can process Frankie having laid their situation that bare in front of her. He rolls and pulls her with him to lie on his chest, hand cradling her skull as his lips find hers.

But he senses her hesitation.

“Do—do you want to fuck Benny?” His eyes are suddenly soft. Unsure of himself.

“No, Frankie, I don’t want to fuck Benny.” She adjusts to straddle his hips and sits up, raking her hair out of her eyes.

“Then wh—”

“Shhh, Frankie, please,” she soothes both hands over the slight swell of his belly. “Tonight, I’m yours,” she cranes down to kiss him, “and for the rest of this trip, I’m yours.”

But it all sounds so temporary.

And he wants so desperately to push back. To ask what happens in the after. 

What happens when she goes home? Does she lay in bed alone, sleeping like a baby, or is her bed warmed by someone else? 

Does she wish for his company when she goes to the movies, does she need someone to hold her shopping bags at the mall, who packs her groceries in her fridge, or does she do it all alone?

Does she make herself come and wish it was him?

Is he some secret she keeps stashed away?

Is there another?

Does she think of him at all?

“But—”

“Francisco. Leave it.” Her gaze is granite. “Please. Please let us just have this. Right here. Right now.”

And the thing in her eyes is back again. The thing he can’t quite name.

But there’s want there too.

And it’s only the whiskey with a side of beer that allows him to acquiesce.

“Okay,” he whispers, kissing her deeply before sitting up, palms skating up the panes of her back before flipping her over, parting her legs with his shoulders.

And he means okay out of desperation. The visceral need to prove his worth to a woman that could slip through his fingers and into another man’s bed on a whim.

There would be a taker downstairs.

And okay he’s going to do his best.

Okay, he’ll pour want—need—through his fingertips.

Okay.

He’ll crack granite.

And Frankie has all the right moves. The skillful flick of his tongue, the hollowing of his cheeks, and the pump of his fingers.

But Audrey’s brain won’t let her come.

“Baby,” he looks up from between her thighs, rubbing a palm down her stomach, “where are you?”

She takes a deep breath as he rakes his hair off of his forehead and runs his tongue over a bottom lip wet with her slick.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, baby.” She props herself up on her elbows and Frankie gently lets her legs fall open to climb up her body, the tip of his nose brushing hers.

“What’s wrong, gatita?” He whispers.

And that word feels a world away from where they are now.

“Think I’m just distracted, Frankie.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, that’s okay, baby,” he tucks a stray curl behind her ear before shifting around to lay next to her. He settles on his side, pulling the duvet up enough to take the tent in his boxer briefs out of the equation.

She stares into the middle distance while Frankie sits with her in the silence. 

Palm still rubbing her stomach under her t-shirt.

Trying to soothe himself with her skin.

He’s losing her.

She settles down next to him, his hand settling on her ribcage, thumb rubbing soft circles into her skin.

Big green eyes settling on brown ones that are doing their best to hide panic.

When she reaches for his cheek his lids flutter closed, her cold hand a balm to his burn.

Audrey maps the contours of his face with reverent fingers. Palm curving over the roundness of his cheeks. Nails catching on his beard. Thumb tracing echoes of the joy that accumulates in the corners of tired eyes. 

She runs her index finger lightly over the scar on the bridge of his nose.

She presses a kiss to his lips.

And he offers a soft smile when he opens his eyes again.

“Frankie,” she whispers, running her thumb feather-light over his bottom lip, “do you remember what I told you. That second night?”

“You told me a lot of things that second night,” he runs his fingertips down her spine.

“But what I always come back to is—”

“You’re beautiful.”

They both whisper it at the same time.

The corner of Frankie’s lips quirk in a gentle smile that dimples one cheek.

“You���re beautiful Frankie,” she kisses his chin. “I need you to know. You’re beautiful.”

And it soothes him in the moment. Enough that his eyes start to slip closed, pulled at first by the weight in his chest. The need to shut out this reality. 

She turns in his arms to press her back to his chest and he pulls her in to him, tucking his nose against her neck.

Settling into each other like they do every night they share a borrowed bed.

And Frankie slips off, warm breath skating over her skin.

But Audrey’s heart still pounds in her ears.

_____

They shift around each other in the night.

Frankie’s legs tangling with hers.

Her fist clenching in the cotton of his shirt.

His palm cupping her warm breast. Staying there.

Audrey’s tongue slipping into his mouth.

Frankie pulling at her waist urging her on top of him.

“Baby, I need you—” he swallows hard. Unable, through the haze of sleep, to stave off the seep of apprehension into his viscera. 

Desperation.

It bleeds into the haze of his dreams and back out into reality when her weight blankets him.

He skates his nose up the side of her neck, hot puffs of breath dampening her skin before he nips at her ear, “now. Right now baby.”

Take this feeling from me.

Let me prove that you’re mine.

She sits up from where she straddles his hips, pulling her t-shirt off as Frankie rights himself to lave his tongue over one tight nipple.

Audrey wraps her arms around his neck and his hands settle over her shoulder blades before he lays her backwards, kissing a path down her form as her fingers tangle in his hair.

He feasts until her body goes taught with pleasure, every throb of her walls around his fingers a beat of reassurance to his buzzing mind.

She keens his name when she breathes again.

“I’m here, baby. I’m here,” he hurriedly tugs his boxer briefs down, pumping his thick, weeping cock.

He rubs the head of his cock through her folds before sinking in slowly, mouth dropping open a fraction with each inch that he gives her. 

Audrey’s back arches off the bed, hand flying to cover her mouth.

Frankie weights her form with his, kissing at her knuckles, begging for the moans trapped behind them.

She allows it.

Allows Frankie’s tongue into the wet of her mouth, still tasting of her.

Allows him to sit up and bring both of her legs together, holding her ankles with one massive hand as she reaches back to grip the edge of the bed. He guides one to each shoulder, fingers digging into the meat of her thighs. 

Knocking against something sacred.

And she’s trying. 

Trying not to scream for him.

Not to let slip how she needs him.

Here. Like this.

All ways. Always.

But Frankie settles one palm low on her stomach and applies pressure with the heel of it. Feeling the bulge of his cock as he fucks into her. 

A bit more pressure and the crown of his cock catches her g-spot. Over and over.

Sending sparks across her vision.

And Audrey loses it.

Composure.

Sanity.

The scream choked in the back of her throat.

The tenuous hold she had on the tide of pleasure that breaks over her now, causing frantic hands to reach for his wrist and nails to sink into his thigh.

Walls throbbing around his cock.

She’s probably woken the whole house.

Good.

Frankie’s jaw clenches through the pulsing of her cunt, thumb slipping through the slick he pulls from her core to wind against her clit.

He can’t keep the moans in now.

And so he gives them to her.

Leaning forward with one leg still over his shoulder to bite at her bottom lip.

“You’ve got one more in you,” he inhales through his teeth, “don’t you, baby? One more, come on baby.”

“Frankie,” she sobs, swallowing hard, “you know better,” she grips at the sweaty roots of his hair. “You know better than that, baby.”

And he growls from somewhere deep in his chest, sitting up enough to let her leg down.

But he lets it down across his body, slipping his cock from her heat and flipping her over onto her stomach with the momentum of it.

Audrey immediately braces herself on her forearms as Frankie thrusts back inside of her, the weight of his body falling against her not a moment after.

“I do know better,” he mashes his nose to her temple. “I know my baby likes it like this, doesn’t she?”

And it’s so sordid. The speed with which Frankie’s hips move now, skin slapping against hers. The way his tongue licks a stripe over her ear. The wet squelch of his cock through her slick.

The grunts he can’t help when he’s this close. 

Audrey grins with teeth in her bottom lip from under a cascade of black curls.

“I can feel it, you know,” Frankie purrs, beard scraping against her cheek before his nose follows suit. “Feel when I’m in that spot.” He sucks on her neck before sliding the flat of his teeth against her skin.

She lets out a sultry hum.

“Like it was made for me. So fucking tight around my cock.”

And all she can do is moan in response because he’s slowed his pace. There’s the slightest circle to his hips with every thrust.

Grinding deep—hard—as if to prove his point.

He’s doing it spectacularly.

“Jesus, Frankie,” she moans, head dropping into the space between her forearms. 

She’s warm gold in his hands, pliable and glistening. Bending with his attention. Made malleable with his want.

Something precious.

He props himself up with one arm and runs a reverent palm down her spine before fitting fingers to the curve of her waist and slipping under her hips.

She keens the moment he starts toying with her clit.

“Harder, Frankie,” she gasps with the breath that he hasn’t stolen from her ribcage.

He moans, a deep, cracked thing as he buries his face between her shoulder blades.

The snap of his hips jostles her against the mattress, slowly at first before Frankie’s rational brain shuts off.

He slips his fingers from her, reaching for her thigh and pulling it up towards her waist, fitting his knee behind it.

Hips grinding her clit against the bed.

His pace builds until his moans drown out her fractured sobs of pleasure, teeth scraping at her shoulder, her body blanketed by the breadth of his form. 

She slips one hand down to work her clit. “Frankie, yes, yes, ye—”

“C’mon, baby. Yeahhh—”

“Oh fuck. Frankie. Frankie, Frankie, Fr—” Her body bows, back colliding with his chest the moment he moves to kiss her with a open, uncoordinated mouth as her walls clench hard around him.

“‘M gonna fucking come,” he hisses in her ear. “Gonna come. Gonna—fucking—cover you with it.”

And she keens between the aftershocks and Frankie’s promise, burying her face in the tangle of sheets.

“You—yeahh—you want that? Want my come? Fuck, baby—” he chokes out.

And it takes everything he has to pull out of the grip of her cunt at the last minute, wrapping his fist around his heavy length, pumping his cock twice before thick ropes of come streak across her spine.

Frankie roars, rushing to slam his cock back inside of her, still throbbing with his release, body twitching and trembling with pleasure before he stills.

Audrey’s soft moans call him back to her. 

Fragile, wrecked things, tangled with heaving breath.

Frankie pulls out with a groan from them both as Audrey protests the loss of his heat at her back.

Until the hot wet of Frankie’s tongue slides over her skin.

He cleans her of his come with a greedy mouth, lips sucking up her spine as he does.

“Fuck,” she whispers.

Finally he returns his full weight to her, one hand splaying against her jaw and bringing her face back towards his.

He tastes of himself. 

Bitter salt and insatiable lips.

Audrey’s face drops back into the sheets when he lets her go, arching up against him with the need to feel his solid weight.

His warmth.

Frankie gently gathers her hair in one hand, peppering her neck and back with kisses before he rests his chin into the curve of one shoulder.

She’s molten now.

“W’s that okay?” He whispers.

And she’s incapable of doing anything more than letting out a throaty, satisfied hum and pressing a kiss to the scruff of his cheek.

Frankie musters enough strength to pull her with him back up to the head of the bed, tucking her against his chest, palm soothing over her back as she nuzzles her nose against his neck.

Audrey’s hazy, murmured, “you’re beautiful,” is the last thing either of them hear before sleep takes them again.

_____

THURSDAY

“Boys, we have a slight wrinkle. They’ve got three more jeeps out here than they did yesterday,” Audrey reports as she stares through a pair of binoculars from where she’s parked a mile away from the compound.

“Benny and I could slash those tires before heading in,” Santiago’s voice crackles over comms.

“Too risky and you wouldn’t have time. They’re on the opposite side of the compound from your entry point.”

“Problem is, more trucks means more men,” Benny chimes in.

“It also means unfamiliar faces. Might actually make it easier to slip in,” Frankie muses.

“I have a distraction in my back pocket, but report back when you’re in position,” Audrey radios.

“I bet you do.”

Frankie growls, “she means an RPG, Benny.”

They suffer through fifteen minutes of silence before Santi reports back. “You were right, Fish.”

“Let us walk right in,” Benny murmurs.

“Consensus seems to be they’re prepping to move the hostage in about an hour. We’ll ingratiate ourselves until then.”

“This’ll be easier than we thought, boys.”

Frankie hisses, Audrey shushes, and Santi shoots him a pointed stare.

“Don’t fuckin’ say that Benjamin.” Fish growls.

“It’s not done yet,” Audrey murmurs.

Ten minutes later, Benny asks, “Moose, did those Jeeps look armored?”

“Unfortunately for you, no.”

“Okay, we have a slight hiccup,” Benny’s voice is low. “Their planned extraction route has changed. They’re heading in the opposite direction from the airstrip.”

“Great,” Frankie mutters.

“So, my way,” Audrey chimes in.

“The planned route runs right past you, Moose,” Santiago adds.

“We could still take the risk. Break at the last minute?” Benny suggests.

“Too dangerous if those Jeeps aren’t armored. Aud can start knocking them off but they’ve got more men than we accounted for and we dunno how many vehicles they’re going to mobilize,” Fish scratches at his chin and reaches for a map.

“Moose, that Rover have a turbo on it?”

“It’s got two, Benny. But we still can’t make that run to the safehouse. The jungle’s too dense and they’ll be too hot on our tail the minute they get wise. We have to get the hostage into the chopper and Frankie’s gotta make the final run.”

And it’s like she and Frankie have the same idea at the same time.

“So, this is risky—” Fish starts.

“The beach.” Audrey says.

“Think that would give you enough space?”

“If you can be there the minute we break through.”

“I can.”

Audrey’s quiet for a moment, running through contingencies. “Okay boys, we’re gonna do a live handoff.”

“You’re not gonna stop, Aud?” Santi asks, voice jumping half an octave.

“I don’t think we’ll have time. Think you and Benny can handle that switch?”

“You hop in the bird and I can hand her up,” Benny mumbles to Santi.

“Yeah,” Pope nods with bright eyes. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

“We’re good if you both are,” Benny reports.

“Frankie, you good?” Audrey asks.

“I’m good. Give me a five minute warning before hostage extraction, I’ll get this up and hold the area.”

“Okay. Santi and Benny, you come straight to me. No sense in taking men out if they’re headed this direction anyway, it’ll just tip them off. But that means you boys are gonna have to floor it. Give me as much lead time as you can.”

“Done.” Benny answers.

“I’ll drive. You get in the back with the girl,” Pope nods.

“Yeah.”

“Anyone have any questions?” Audrey asks.

She gets three ‘no’s.’

“Everyone clear on their role?”

She gets three ‘yes’s.’

“If anyone has any doubts, speak up now. If not, everyone confirm, individually, that this plan is a go.”

Without hesitation, everyone answers ‘confirmed.’

“Alright boys. Benny and Pope, are you both in position to start the clock?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m officially marking five minutes until extraction. Frankie, get her up.”

“Roger.”

Ninety seconds later Frankie confirms he’s in the air and has cleared the airstrip.

“Benny and Pope, you’re cleared to move in accordance with the timeframe.”

They’re out and in the back of the Jeep in another seven minutes. An unknown man slips into the passenger seat thinking he’ll hitch a ride with the boys, and Benny covers the girl’s eyes and ears with two massive hands as Pope fires a silenced shot at the man’s temple before he floors the truck.

They catch up to Audrey in another two minutes.

“They’re sixty seconds behind us,” Benny blurts out as he opens the door, immediately grabbing the girl out of the backseat. “Sorry about this, sweetheart,” he mumbles as he picks her up and hurriedly transfers her into the Rover, sliding in behind her and slamming the door.

She’s quiet and pliant, but there’s panic in her eyes. 

“Santi, there’s two minutes on that,” Audrey simultaneously tosses a live charge to Santi who slaps it onto the Jeep, right over the gas tank, before he slips into the passenger seat, slamming his door as Audrey hits the accelerator.

“Frankie, we’re on the move. ETA to the beach is seven minutes.” Santiago reports.

Audrey catches the little girl’s wide brown eyes in the mirror.

“Hey Diana,” she says with far more calm in her voice than she has any right to have. “I’m Moose. This is Pope,” she gestures to Santi who turns around and offers the girl a winning smile, “and that’s Ben next to you.”

“I know all of this is a lot. But we’re here to get you home.” Santi assures her.

“You ever been on a helicopter, Diana?” Audrey asks again and the boys pick up on where she’s going with it.

“One time,” the girl answers in a soft voice.

“That’s awesome!” Benny chimes in. “Did you like it?”

She nods.

“Well, there’s a helicopter coming around just for you that’s going to fly you to your parents.”

“Okay.”

“We’re gonna help get you inside, but we’re gonna need you to be really brave, okay?” Santi says. “The guy flying the helicopter is called Catfish, he’s my best friend. And I’m going to be with you the whole time.”

She nods, eyes still wide with fear.

“We’re gonna have to move pretty fast once we get down to the beach okay?” Benny says as they hear the charge Santi set go off in the background.

“We’re gonna crawl out through there,” Pope points at the sunroof.

And she starts shaking her head ‘no.’

“Hey, Diana?”

This from Audrey.

“I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

“Really?”

“I really do!”

She brightens a bit at that.

“I know you can do this. And these boys are going to keep you safe, that’s what they do best. Keep people safe. And then in less than an hour, you’ll be with your parents.” She meets the girl’s eyes in the mirror again. “I promise.”

“You pinky swear?”

Audrey laughs and reaches one gloved hand behind her.

“I pinky swear.”

And she feels a small tug at her hand.

Benny holds his pinky out and Diana wraps her small finger around it before doing the same with Santi.

“Frankie, beach in one,” Audrey reports.

“Roger,” he returns over coms and thirty seconds later they hear the thump of rotor blades. “They’re about two minutes behind you.”

“That’s your ride, Diana,” Santi flips the switch to open the sunroof as he crouches on the passenger seat.

“Diana?” Audrey asks.

“Yeah?”

“Keep your eyes shut real tight for me until Pope tells you to open them again, okay?”

And the little girl shuts her eyes and covers her ears as Audrey wrenches the wheel to the right and hits sand.

“Frankie, I’m going to aim for 60 mph, or I’ll run out of beach too quickly,” she reports.

“Roger.”

And Audrey lines the Rover up on firm sand as the thump of rotor blades grows louder. Wind and sand whip around the cabin as Santiago climbs out of the sunroof.

When Frankie gets the bird close enough, the downdraft from the rotor blades keeps sand in the cabin to a minimum, but creates a wake around the Rover.

Audrey’s only able to see about a hundred feet in front of her at any given time.

“Frankie, my vis is shit, callout if we’re gonna hit anything.”

“You’re clear for at least two miles if you hold it straight. Rock outcrop that would take some maneuvering just short of mile three.”

Two minutes. They have two minutes.

Santiago grips the roof rack in a crouch until Fish brings the helicopter skids within two feet of the truck. 

He easily launches himself onto the skids, Frankie expertly accounting for the impact. 

The bird doesn’t even rock.

Audrey chances a glance up at the chopper.

This is gonna work.

She gestures for Benny to get into position. 

He urges Diana onto the front seat, and mercifully she doesn’t put up a fight.

Benny climbs onto the center console, but the moment he sticks his head out of the sunroof, bullets start flying.

Santiago instantly reacts, laying down suppressive fire as Benny hoists himself up, hooking one foot under a bar of the roof rack, knee on sunroof glass to straddle the open space before he reaches down into the cabin, hoisting Diana up off of her seat with a hand under each arm, his back to the gunfire, shielding her.

Immediately she clings to his neck.

It’s a small blessing when bullets pause.

They don’t want to hit the girl, and Audrey mutters “thank fuck,” under her breath.

Benny assesses their angle and makes eye contact with Santiago who lays his rifle down. 

“Close the sunroof!” Benny yells over rotor blades and wind, and immediately Audrey reaches up to comply, giving Benny more space for solid footing.

It takes less than three seconds for the motor to slide glass closed, but Audrey swears it takes at least a year off of her life.

Benny’s dialed in and readjusts in an instant, standing to his full height.

Frankie and Audrey hold the vehicles dead even with each other, hurtling across the beach at highway speed.

Benny doesn’t hesitate, putting one foot on the skid of the chopper before gently loosening Diana’s hold on him. Santi puts a foot on the skid next to Benny’s and gets well within arms reach. 

Benny still holds Diana close to his body, Pope instead reaching for her.

“On three!” Benny yells, blonde hair whipping around his face.

“ONE.”

Santiago places his hands under Benny’s, making sure he has a firm grip on the girl.

“TWO.”

Benny holds her out just a little farther.

They lock eyes and both nod.

“THREE.”

Benny’s hands drop away and Santiago pulls her in tight to his chest, falling backward into the helicopter as Benny takes his foot off the skid.

“FISH, WE’RE CLEAR GET OUTTA HERE,” Benny crouches down on the roof, screaming into comms as Audrey flips the switch to open the sunroof again.

Benny drops back into the Rover as Frankie pulls hard to the right, peeling out over the ocean and out of range of the bullets that have once again started flying.

Benny reaches through the cabin to grab his rifle off of the back seat and immediately starts firing out of the sunroof as Audrey slows down enough to turn around without rolling the Rover, bringing the truck to a stop.

There’s half a mile between them and the rocks.

Thirty seconds.

She scrambles into the back seat and reaches into the trunk before slowly poking her head up in front of Benny.

Audrey shuffles to the right for clearance, stands on the back seat, and slings a metal tube up over her shoulder.

Half a second later she launches off an RPG.

Anything that remains when the smoke clears is easy work.

Benny takes out three men and Audrey picks off the tires of the one Jeep that made it through.

Everything finally falls silent, save for the muted sounds of the ocean and the crackling of fire—dulled by their ringing ears. 

Audrey reaches for the transmit button on her comms.

“Beach is clear.”

She glances back at where Benny is standing on the passenger seat behind her.

Audrey reaches out a hand.

And Benny shakes it with a laugh.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, Benjamin.”

“Roger that, Moose. Roger. That.”

_____

Benny tries to hail Pope and Fish over comms periodically on their way back to their safehouse, but between the distance and the terrain, he doesn’t get anything back.

He tries calling and texting, but nothing gets through.

“They’ll have ditched the bird, and it’s probably four hours by car,” Audrey muses as she pulls into the safehouse drive.

“So maybe 6:30? 7?”

“Probably about that.”

“‘Kay.”

But the pauses between their words are thick with worry despite everything still going according to plan. 

They both shower and change into comfortable clothes, Audrey calling in a status report and cleanup while Benny makes hotdogs for their late lunch. 

They fall into conversation that’s far more comfortable now.

He pours Audrey a gin and soda around 5 pm when he can tell she’s still on edge. 

He fixes one for himself too and suggests they sit on the front porch.

6:30 pm comes and goes and Audrey parks herself on the hood of the Rover to light up a smoke.

Benny sits down next to her, propping sandaled feet up on the bullbar.

“Want one?” She angles her packet of Parliaments in his direction.

“Nah,” he politely shakes his head. “Don’t smoke. But you’re good, I don’t mind.”

And she huffs a laugh because Benny’s the one who followed her over here.

He tells her fight night stories to pass the time as she chain smokes, hoping to distract her enough to soothe her buzzing nerves. 

And his.

Audrey pulls a sweatshirt on to guard against the chill.

When 7:30 rolls around, Benny slips a cigarette out of the box and asks if she can give him a light.

Audrey smirks and acquiesces. 

At 8:15pm, Audrey’s phone lights up, notifying her that something has tripped the perimeter alarm.

She quickly unlocks it and holds it up between her and Benny as she presses play on the video.

It’s a car they don’t expect, and in the fading light, it’s too dark to make out who’s inside. 

Benny calmly slides off the hood and opens the Rover, tossing Audrey a rifle and grabbing a pistol for himself before quietly shutting the door. They move in silence to meet behind the truck, staring through the cabin out through the front windscreen, waiting for the car to appear.

It slips calmly into the drive as they both hold guns at the ready. 

Santiago steps out first with a smile on his face. The moment Frankie appears from behind the driver’s seat, Audrey drops her rifle and takes off running.

“Audrey,” Frankie sighs as she collides with his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. He wraps one arm around her back and cups the base of her skull, pressing her tight to him.

“The FUCK took you so long?” Benny booms as he lays his pistol on the hood.

“Stopped for coffee,” Santiago quips, giving Benny a hug and a pat on the back. “Nah, their security detail had car trouble, so we swapped them out so they could move. Frankie fixed this piece of shit up, but it took some time.”

“Gave Benny and I some time to bond,” Audrey moves to give Santi a quick hug now as Benny wraps Frankie in his arms and thumps him on the back.

“That was some real Fast and Furious shit, boys!” Benny whoops.

“Yeah it was,” Frankie returns to Audrey’s side, arm draped around her shoulders.

A smile of pride playing on his mouth.

“Y’all hungry? We’ve got hot dogs,” Benny throws a thumb over his shoulder at the house.

“Fucking starving.” Frankie laughs.

_____

Mirth and liquor flow freely for the rest of the night.

“Okay, so wait, wait. Y’all gave me shit, but Benny doesn’t have a callsign—” Audrey points at the man in question..

“Benny’s callsign is ‘Benny’,” Santi swallows a mouthful of whiskey.

“Sorry, what?”

“Well,” Frankie braces both hands on his thighs with a grin. “This one—this one ti—” but he can’t get it out without dissolving into a fit of laughter. “Benny is ‘Benny’—like Benadryl.”

“Yeah, walk me through that,” she rakes a hand through her curls.

“He got stung by a bee one day, took two Benadryl and slept through an entire training exercise.” Santi is grinning so hard that his face hurts.

“Benadryl can do that, yeah.”

“No. Babe,” Frankie laughs, resting a hand on her shoulder, “he slept through the training exercise WHILE he was out in the field.”

Benny is blushing now.

“He would come to enough to get into a helo, but then he’d fall asleep. Strapped into the seat,” Santiago gestures at his chest through howls of laughter.

“He got out of the bird, got into position on the ground with his rifle like he was about to line up a shot and fell the fuck asleep again,” Frankie wheezes, bracing his hand on Santi’s shoulder as he folds forward in his chair.

And she can’t help but laugh at the sight of Frankie having lost all composure.

“Fucking blanks flying everywhere,” Pope makes a cutting motion with his hand, “my man is OUT COLD.”

“There are pictures,” Frankie wipes at his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Benny grumbles, but there’s a smile hiding just behind his lips. “I assume you know about these two idiots.” This to Audrey.

“I do, yeah,” she smiles as she takes a sip of gin.

“You gotta tell me how you got Moose now.”

“Oh,” Santiago reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants for his phone, finding the picture before sliding it over to Benny. “She saved our asses by nailing that shot.”

“Oh, cool.”

Benny isn’t quite impressed.

“Through night vision from a mile away, Benny.” Frankie adds.

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline now and he holds Santiago’s phone closer to his face.

“Damn, Moose. That’s sick,” he slides the phone back to Santi, “thought it was because of your tattoo.”

“YOU’VE SEEN IT?” Santiago screams.

Benny holds his hands up in front of his chest, “she had a tank top on earlier, I didn’t know it was some kind of secret.”

“It’s not, Benny. Santi just thinks it is,” she winks as one hand idly winds in Frankie’s curls.

“Unbelievable,” Santiago shakes his head.

“I like you, Moose.” Benny holds his glass up in her direction.

She taps the side of hers to his, “I like you too, Benny.”

“You do excellent work,” he swallows a sip, “clean, precise, efficient. Think on your feet. Hell of a shot. You wind this one up,” he points to Santi, “and this one is in love with you,” he gestures towards Frankie. 

And Audrey hides it in the moment, pulling her hand away from Frankie’s hair under the guise of reaching for her glass.

The truth is.

Benny’s just said the last thing she wants to hear.

next

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @missladym1981 @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @toomanytookas

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#frankie morales #santiago garcia #ben miller #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #ohforficsake

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 34

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, oral/noncon, coercion, cum, some untagged sexual and dark elements.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Masterlist

Your fingers curl around the armrest of the sofa as you moan. Lloyd hugs your legs with one arm, squeezing them together as he hammers into you. The frame shakes with his efforts as he crushes you into the cushions, curling your body unnaturally against the end of the couch.

He hasn’t let up, neither has your hangover. Your head rattles with the echo of alcohol, your limbs stiff, and stomach hollow. It’s easier to just give in.

That’s just life with Lloyd. Give up and let him have his way. You’re not fooled, he will get bored soon. This whole ‘vacation’ is a mindfuck.

He slides his hand down your thighs, forcing his fingers along your pelvis and wiggles against your clit. You bit your lip and cling tighter to the sofa, his flesh cracking off of yours as he teases you. You twitch around him as an orgasm quickly coils from the pressure pounding in your core. You let the tension out between your teeth, heaving as you push your head back.

“Liking the motion of the ocean,” he puffs as he slams into you deliberately and you yelp.

“Shut up.”

“Come on, baby, I know you love it.”

“Better when you don’t talk,” you wave a hand at him weakly.

He stops, buried to his limit, and rolls his hips so you spasm. You gasp as he pushes your legs apart and bends over you. He hooks his arms under your back to pull you up. He keeps you folded as he lifts you into his lap, sitting back to tilt into you from below. He turns his head and presses his lips to you ankle, growling as he ruts again.

“Agh,” you grasp his round shoulder, the muscle wrought and corded tight, “fuck.”

He chuckles as he keeps you trapped against him, hips pumping and chest thrumming. He leans his head back as you feel his orgasm wind through him, nails digging into your skin as he grunts into a blissful roar. He spills in you, quaking as he fucks his cum deep into your cunt until its dripping down his pelvis.

He leans forward and drops you, hovering over you as he catches his breath. His arm is bent against the couch as he holds himself over you and pulls your head straight. His thumb caresses your chin as your lashes flutter. You groan and push lightly on his thigh.

“My fucking head is killing me,” you grumble.

It’s not what he expects. You either but you can’t focus past the pulsing in your temples. The tequila haunts you still and the excess of his needs, forces you over the edge.

He brushes his knuckles up your cheeks and places his large hand over your forehead. The warmth of his touch is comforting. The only time you’ve felt anything but irritation for it. He drags his palm back down your face and tickles your neck, one last grope of your chest before he pulls out. He always ruins it.

He slides out of you and sits back against the couch as he huffs. He stands, wiggling his dick as he pulls it back to look at his sack. He clicks his tongue and chuckles, “look at the mess you made on my balls, honey.”

“Lloyd,” you push yourself up and grip your head, “tell me there’s advil in this damn place.”

“Relax, there’s a first aid kit… somewhere.”

He walks shamelessly around the cabin and opens the cupboard beneath the steering wheel. He sifts around as you hang your legs over the edge of the cushions and slump forward. Why did you drink so much? You didn’t have much of a choice but dammit. You know better.

The tink of metal makes you wince and you look up as Lloyd unclasps the lid of a silver box. He searches and pulls out a plastic pill bottle, shaking it so you whimper. He tosses it at you and you barely catch it before it whips against your face. You grumble as he packs away the kit.

“Thanks,” you sigh as you uncap the bottle.

“Water downstairs,” he says, “you still haven’t got the grand tour.”

He comes back to you, softening to your relief. With any luck, he’s gotten it out of your system and there’s somewhere you can cocoon yourself up and sleep below. You take two capsules and click the lid back on. You swallow them dry and stand.

You pause to pick up the wrinkled dress at your feet but he stops you.

“You don’t need it,” he insists, “come on, let's go. I’ll put you to bed, baby.”

He guides you around the couch and gestures you towards the narrow stairs that descend into the floor. You hesitate as his hand creeps down your arm and he takes your hand. It’s the little things that really agitate you. None of this is normal, least of all him, so you wish he’d quit pretending.

“As long as I get to lay down, I don’t give a fuck what you do,” you say as you begin down ahead of him, your arm stretched backward as he clings to you.

“Fuck, you’re such a romantic,” he follows you down, “I’ll fuck you to sleep, honey. You can have a nice little nap while I ruin you.”

💎

For all Lloyd's effort, the atmosphere never settles. He seems well-honed in the art of deception so that his flagrant love of firearms starts to make sense. They cannot be unrelated but you know better than to untie that riddle.

A night on the boat, another in the hotel, before your inevitable return to the wintry city. It passes in his finely crafted fantasy of Mr. and Mrs. Hansen. Not much different than before; fucking between pointless arguments.

The flight home isn't much different than the trip there. Rather than sitting in his lap, Lloyd forces your head down and has your mouth on him until he's oversensitive. You can't help but wonder where he finds the energy, you're flagging at best and even more daunted by the task awaiting you.

The rack of clothes accompanies you. As you come onto the tarmac, Lloyd gives an order that a delivery service be contacted. You don't argue. Another unnecessary splurge that won't come to fruition… if you can follow through.

The house greets you with a dreadful shade of deja vu. You enter, the place eerily quiet as Lloyd sighs and checks the fuzz on his lip as he removes his coat. You strip off your own, uncertain what comes next. Do you go back to work?

He doesn't say anything as he unzips his boots and steps out of them. He leaves you swiftly, entering the den without a glance back. You hesitate and take the opposite direction, going to the kitchen to put on a pot of well-needed coffee.

The familiar ritual eases your addled nerve as your mind climbs the stairs and pinpoints the phone tucked under your pillow. It's probably dead by now. You'll give it a charge and wait. Lloyd can't stick around forever, he never does.

"Better be blonde roast," Lloyd startles you from your inner machinations.

"Huh, uh, medium," you reply as you open the cupboard.

He nears and reaches over, setting down something on the counter. The shape looms in your peripheral as you choose a mug. You put the porcelain on the marble and pause, the hexagonal box making you want to hiss like a vampire at silver.

"What's that?" You slide along the counter and tap your fingers impatiently as you watch the machine grind.

"Open it."

"I don't want to."

"Went to our favourite jeweler."

You give him a sharp look and he smirks. That day you walked into the shop looking for that damn overpriced watch is the biggest mistake you've ever made. He makes you want to go back to your ignorance.

"Too expensive–"

"You've already worn stuff double the cost. Go on."

"You want coffee?" You reach for another mug and grab the cupboard door.

"Open. It." He tears your hand down, nearly knocking over several cups.

You exhale and take the box. You glare at him and pull the lid back on the hinges slowly, a soft creak as it rises begrudgingly. He holds your gaze, emotionless. Calculating.

You look down and stare at the large diamond at the center of at least a dozen more. Each cut into perfect circles at the cruc of the golden band. You chew your cheek and place it back on the marble.

"I don't trust you," you eununciate carefully.

"And? You don't gotta trust me," he picks up the box and plucks the ring out, "you just gotta keep handling my dick like a goddamn pro."

He reaches for your hand and you back away. He snatches your wrist gruffly, tugging you back to him as he raised your hand. He waves the ring tauntingly in front of you.

"I'm not looking for goddamn June Cleaver," he bends all but your ring finger and shoves the band on, "I'm just need something to come fuck after a long mission."

You grit your teeth as he keeps you from ripping your hand away. Don't give yourself away.

"Legally," he continues, "so how about that divorce? I got my lawyers on standby."

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #unsolicited #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #the gray man

[weministertomonsters]

Naga Father (Araza) x gender-neutral reader - 2

"Just a few kids from school won't hurt, Mr. Araza. You have to give Sam a chance at a normal life," you say in exasperation, shaking some food into your cat's bowl and balancing the phone against your shoulder.

You've been babysitting Sam occasionally for a few months, enough to feel somewhat comfortable with pressing the subject of holding a birthday party for Sam.

"He's not normal," is Mr. Araza's reply, and you grit your teeth for a second before you blow your breath out slowly, forcing yourself to calm down.

"I know you're trying to toughen him up in your own way... But he's going to end up hating you if you don't ease up now and then. Sam is smart, you know. He can figure out how to live in a world of humans on his own."

"I know what's best for my son," Mr. Araza says, and you hear the shuffle of papers in the background.

"Oh, are you working? Did my call interrupt you? Sorry, I'll hang up now. Just think about it, okay?"

Before he has the chance to respond, you hang up.

"He's a tough nut to crack, Ginger," you say to your orange cat who is happily crunching down on his food. "I wonder what happened to make him like that?"

On a whim, you grab your phone and look his name up. There he is, featured in an article from a prominent news station. He was one of the two nagas rescued from a monster trafficking ring that got busted fifteen years ago. There's a picture of him with the other monsters that were rescued. He's staring blankly at the camera, a blanket wrapped around his thin shoulders. The other naga was too weak and passed away in the hospital. Everything makes sense now.

You put your phone down and stare hard at the wall. No wonder he's so fiercely protective of his son and pushing him to survive the best he can. Your phone buzzes and you look down to see a text from your best friend, Cora.

Hi Tobi, it reads, I know this is short notice, but I totally forgot I had a marriage counseling appointment today and we can't leave Annabelle alone! Do you have 2 hours to spare? I made chocolate chip cookies this morning!

A smile curves onto your lips and you type a reply.

I'll be there in 10 minutes

Cora only lives a couple of blocks away, so you end up walking there. Cora and her wife are in the driveway, ready to leave.

"Tobi, you're an angel!" Cora says, coming forward. "I present to you my devil spawn."

Annabelle squirms restlessly in her mother's grip, nibbling on her forearm. The five-year-old had new teeth coming in and apparently, her mother's arm is a serviceable chew toy.

"She's got a ton of energy today," you laugh and scoop her up.

The pup smells like baby shampoo and cookies. You wave her parents off and hoist her onto your shoulder.

"So what do you want to do?" You ask her.

"I want ice cream!" She yells, her knee catching you in the ribs.

"Oof. Isn't it a little too close to lunch?"

"I want a burger too! With cheese!"

"Demanding, aren't you? An alpha in the making for sure. Okay. We'll have burgers and ice cream. Just don't tell your mommy okay?"

She grins and nods. The commercial strip is within walking distance and even if it's a bit far away you figure Annabelle could use a long walk. As you walk together you're making a mental note not to marry a werewolf. Even a half-werewolf would be hyper, but Annabelle is out of this world. She's so bouncy that half the time her feet aren't even on the ground. You're forced to herd her around now and then so she doesn't hop off the sidewalk.

You're relieved when you reach the ice cream shop because it has a fenced-in playground.

"I'm going to make a sandcastle!" Annabelle shrieks, charging towards the sandbox.

"Okay, darling." You grab your phone and text Cora.

Bestie, what's up with Belle today?

Too much sugar :( my bad. I caved and let her have frosted flakes for breakfast Cora texts back.

Oh boy. Then ice cream is going to be a bad idea. Idly you walk up to the swings, wondering how you're going to convince her to get something else. And then you notice Mr. Araza and freeze. He pauses too, looking down at you. You have to put a hand up to your face to hide your grin because he's on the monkey bars. It's sturdy enough to hold his weight, but he looks ridiculous. His son is underneath, head craned up to look up at his father.

"Hello," you say politely.

"Papa is stuck," Sam says, turning to look at you. "Help him, Tobi."

You gulp down a burst of laughter and bite your lip hard, trying not to let your amusement show. Mr. Araza's golden eyes narrow, and his tongue flicks out, tasting the air. His eyes turn into annoyed slits and he lets out a huff. His tail is wound through the rather sophisticated monkey bars, and you can see he's stuck in more than one place.

"How did you even get up there?" You ask.

"I was... Teaching Sam how to climb," he says, and you can't help the small laugh you make this time.

"I do not find this humorous, neither should you," he hisses. "My tail is going numb. If it's not too much trouble, I would appreciate a hand."

You glance down at Sam. "Hey, I brought a friend with me, and she's the same age as you. Maybe you could play together?"

Sam looks doubtfully at Annabelle, who has forgotten about her sandcastle and is digging a hole in the sandbox. Then he nods and shyly slithers over to say hello. You turn back to Mr. Araza and put your game face on.

"How about I make you a deal? Promise to actually think about throwing a party for Sam, and I'll help you."

His pupils widen in shock. "You can't be serious," he scoffs.

You reach out and poke at his tail. "I dunno, Mr. Araza. You seem stuck pretty good."

"For heaven's sake," he rolls his eyes and his shoulders slump a little. "Fine. Quickly now, I look ridiculous."

You grin. "Then it's a deal," you say and walk around him in a slow circle, calculating.

You're not sure how you're going to get him out. The monkey bars are about six feet high, and he's right on top.

"Okay, I think I've got this," you say and begin to climb.

The next ten minutes are the most awkward ones of your life. You almost fall off twice. Mr. Araza twists his upper body to look at you, and his mouth turns down.

"You're going to hurt yourself this way."

"I'm good," you say, hooking your feet against the bars as you grab the thinnest section of his tail at the end. "You've kind of tied yourself into a knot here, mister," you tell him. "Can you move the end of your tail to the left?"

His tail moves, the end of it curling around your wrist.

"Okay," you mumble.

You succeed in freeing that section and move upwards.

"You're not a cat, you know. You can't fit in just any space," you tell him and you wrap your arms around his tail and press your chest against it like you're about to lift something really heavy.

Which is exactly what you're about to do. His tail is a solid hunk of muscle, his scales rasping against your bare arms. Maybe you press a little too hard or something, but he hisses and it's not a  normal hiss. It's a "get your fucking hands off me right now" kind of hiss.

You jerk your hands back. "Sorry, sorry," you say.

You have just touched softer, more sensitive parts of his tail where scales have been ripped away. Naga scales are incredibly hard to damage or remove but after your research this morning, you can guess how that happened.

His claws clank against the bars as he repositions himself. He won't look at you but maybe that's a good thing. If he looks at you, he'll be able to tell that you know.

"Just get on with it," he mumbles, wiping sweat from his forehead.

You take a deep breath and carry on. He doesn't make a single sound after that, not even when you have to pull so hard that he shudders.

"Need some help?" An employee from the ice cream shop calls over, finally having noticed.

"No, I've got it," you call back.

Just one more section to go. Araza is sprawled on the monkey bars, his torso pressing against them. That can't be comfortable. The way he's gone so still and pliant worries you.

"Are you okay?"

He nods, his hair falling over his face.

"Look at me," you command. "Please?"

He darts a furtive glance over his shoulder. His eyes are glassy, like he's partly somewhere else. Not good. Quickly, you balance your feet on the bars and tug. He comes free and falls off the monkey bars with a thud, taking you with him.

"We're okay," you say to Sam and Annabelle, who look up curiously.

"They're playing," Annabelle giggles to her new friend.

Sam looks worried, but then smiles and goes back to playing. You realize your legs are tangled up in his tail and gently extract them.

"You okay?"

He shoots upright, rolling over to the underside of his tail is against the floor.

"I'm fine. Thank you," he says airily, brushing leaves out of his hair.

All signs of vulnerability are gone.

"Great," you say, trying not to sound too bright as you stand up and dust yourself off. "I'm sure you won't do that again," you laugh.

He flexes his claws. "I have learned a valuable lesson. Your human trappings are terrible replacements for trees."

"Try a park next time," you suggest. "Were you here for ice cream?"

"I promised him a reward for his hard work in school. I did not think he would suggest such a ridiculous-"

"We're here for ice cream too!" You say brightly. "How about we all go in and get some?"

If Mr. Araza is about to protest, Annabelle's excited screaming knocks it out of him.

"Please do not tell me that is your child," he says flatly. "She is untrained."

"She's just a kid," you say. "She can be very loud, I'll give her that."

"Come on," you tell the two children, "let's go get ice cream."

Later on, after you've dropped off a sleeping Annabelle- amazingly enough - at her home and gone home with a gift of a box of chocolate chip cookies, you get a call from Mr. Araza.

"I have made up my mind," he says.

"About the birthday party?"

"Yes," he says, and you begin to dance in triumph.

"On one condition," he adds sharply. "I don't know what a party entails. I'll need your help."

"Oh, you don't have to ask twice!" You say happily.

Maybe the upright naga is finally warming up to a little living...

~ • ~ • ~ • ~

The amount of times I mention "ice cream" in here, lol! 😭

#exophilia #terato #monster x reader #monster x human #naga

[rea-grimm]

Deal with the devil - Crocodile pt 2

Almost a week passed and everything went back to normal. You felt much better too. No fatigue or dizziness. You were healthy as a fish.

You served your punishment by having to close your poison workshop and the only way you could study them was through books.

At first, you didn't want to give it up, but when you saw how unpleasant it affected your life, you decided to find another hobby. However, it was a harder nut to crack than you expected.

You had too much free time so you headed to the warlord to see if there was anything you could do. It would be enough for you to sit next to him and just listen to what he was doing.

You were about to go inside when you heard voices from the room. You recognized Crocodile's voice, but you never heard the other one in your life. You didn't want to disturb him and were already planning to leave when the door opened by itself.

Before you could do anything, an unknown force pressed into your back and began pushing you into the room. Inside, Crocodile was standing behind the table, looking angry. You wanted to say something but you couldn't. The invisible force that pushed you into the room was now holding you in place and holding you tight.

The floor caved in on the stranger, but he didn't even care. He levitated over it like it was nothing. In addition, the room was littered with deep gashes from Crocodile's attack. What the hell was going on here?

More sand began to appear around the demon and soon surrounded him. However, before the warlord could complete his attack, the sand stopped listening to him and fell to the ground, while the devil did not have a scratch or a speck of sand on him.

“I hope you've had time to say goodbye,” the demon said nonchalantly, snapping his fingers. That was also the last thing you heard before the whole world went black before your eyes and you were completely enveloped in darkness.

This time Crocodile managed to catch you with the sand before your body hit the ground. He cradled you in his arms, while he launched the last attack on the devil. He sent the strongest sand attack he was capable of. However, as soon as the sand was about to touch him, the demon disappeared like steam over a pot.

Crocodile hadn't been this angry in a long time. How could he afford to lose you a second time? He was furious. He immediately changed the task of all Baroque Works to a single one. Find the demon and force him to heal you.

Meanwhile, he carried you to your room himself. Instead of going to bed, however, he put you in his arms and didn't want to let you go. You were so small compared to him and now he could see how fragile you were.

He lit a new cigar and thought about what to do next. He wasn't going to just believe that you were gone for good. He exhaled smoke as he felt someone else enter the room.

"Such a beautiful flower. Wouldn’t it be terrible to watch her wilt so fast?” came the familiar voice of the demon whispering in his ear. The Warlord didn't say anything to that though and just stroked your cheek with his thumb.

"Still want to get rid of me? Even though you know I can save her?” he exhorted. You weren't dead, but rather on the brink of death. You were still breathing, but your heartbeat was so weak that it was almost invisible.

"Price?" Crocodile finally asked.

"Nothing you need," he replied mysteriously. “It’s nothing that separates you from this desert flower. You don't even know you have it,” and he smiled mysteriously with a dark glint in his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently. He didn't like it when someone tried to outsmart him.

"And what would be the fun if I told you? Take it or leave it. And as a bonus, I'll add immunity to all poisons. Even those not yet discovered," offered the demon.

Crocodile just chuckled at that. He had the impression that he had become a spectator in the market, a victim of a salesman who wanted to sell his product without limit. However, he finally agreed.

"Great! It was a pleasure to make a deal with you. I hope that you will continue to be together. I'm rooting for you!” were the devil's words before he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

When it was just the two of you in the room again, it seemed at first impression that nothing had happened at all. Or the change was rather minimal. You were still unconscious, but slowly but surely your breathing and heart were getting stronger and more stable. Even the colour returned to your face.

Despite all that, however, you didn't wake up, and Crocodile was getting the impression that the devil hadn't outwitted him after all. Those thoughts left him as pain shot through his entire body. He frowned and balled his hand into a fist.

His whole body was burning, but he felt the worst and greatest pain in his lower back, where he felt as if someone had grabbed him by the spine and was pulling it out of his body. This at the same time as feeling as if his head was going to explode.

The scar on his face burned and his fingers became numb after a while. He was writhing in pain but still holding you so he had to be careful not to accidentally crush you. During these moments of agony, his teeth were so clenched that he bit through his cigar.

When he thought the pain had become somewhat bearable, he spat out a bitten piece of cigar and lit a new one. He had to sit down in another way because something was pushing him from behind.

He had no idea how much time had passed when your lids fluttered and you sleepily opened your eyes. However, the room was completely dark.

You couldn’t remember what happened before. Your thoughts were in a fog. You sleepily rubbed your eyes as you realized you weren't in bed but in someone's arms. You felt him caress your hand.

You settled down better and rested your head on his chest for a while longer. Even though you just woke up, you were tired. As you rested for a little while longer, you remembered Crocodile's panicked expression before you passed out.

You gently took his hand that he was stroking you and looked into his face. In the darkness that prevailed in the room, his eyes glowed silver and thus illuminated his face, which you did not recognize in part. That you were still asleep and this was just a weird dream?

"What happened? Does it hurt?" you asked him with concern in your voice. You knelt at his feet and carefully caressed his scar, which had sharp crocodile teeth sticking up and down.

“It's nothing compared to the pain of losing you,” he replied, caressing your cheek. When you touched his scar it hurt, but it was nothing compared to when he was changing.

"But it still hurts, doesn't it?" you said as you noticed how he closed his eyes whenever you touched a changed spot. "What happened?" you asked him again, even though you knew the answer.

"You don't have to worry about something like that. It's already settled. Are you feeling better now?” he turned his attention to you. He didn't want to bother you because you would probably blame yourself or feel sorry for him. He didn't need either.

"Probably yes. I don't have any pain and no fatigue…” you shrugged. You felt good. Nothing was bothering you at the moment.

"I'm glad to hear that," Crocodile smiled happily. He was partly relieved to hear that.

“You look tired,” you said after a while, feeling a little tired yourself. This time, however, it was not due to illness. "And it's still dark outside. How about we go to bed?” you suggested

Crocodile hesitated for a moment. It was true that he was quite tired after all of this and was still sore from the change. But part of him was worried that if you went to sleep now, he'd find you gone in the morning. He finally pushed that worry out of his mind, lifted you into the air and carried you to the bed.

There you lay next to each other and Crocodile pulled you closer to him. It was easy for you to fall asleep in such proximity.

The next morning, you woke up earlier than the warlord. You rolled over so you could look at him. It was strange to see him like this. It wasn't until now that you noticed a pair of horns growing out of the edges of his forehead and curved back.

Careful not to wake him, you sat up and noticed the long crocodile tail curling under his feet and sticking out from your side of the bed.

Sure, he looked a little different now, some might even say scarier, but you didn't mind. You noticed that he sleepily opened his eyes. They still glowed goldenly, but it wasn't as noticeable as at night.

You laid down again and snuggled closer to him. You had no idea what had happened while you were out, but you trusted him that it was resolved.

News of his change spread relatively quickly and thus earned him the nickname the sand demon.

PART 1

Crocodile Masterlist

#monster piece #one piece #one piece x reader #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #crocodile #deal with the devil #demon #demon crocodile

[chastiefoul]

midnight drabble | alhaitham

this is truly just me rambling and i realized it's alr 1k words

-

“haitham, you’re a terrible drinking buddy.” you put your drink aside, crossing your hands at the table as if preparing for a serious conversation. “i don’t think i’m responsible into living up the expectations you have of me in your head.” he said quietly, sipping on his drink. “always so serious, you do know this is why i’m your only friend at akademiya, right?”

“well-“ he started and you quickly cut him off. “stop. don’t start with me. even if kaveh was held at gunpoint i think he’d still hesitate on calling you a friend, and you know that.” the retort left the man that sat across you speechless.

to be fair, the word friend that said to describe your relationship also doesn’t sit right with alhaitham. he didn’t know when it started, but he definitely know that he yearned for your affection, longed to hold you, to call you more than a friend, to tell you that your presence had made his bleak life more exciting and fun—words that he did not use often before meeting you. however, he would also like to take this useless realization down to his grave. every other day and whatnot now you really loved to remind him that you’re his only friend, doesn’t that make it very clear where your stance is in this relationship thing?

for now he had to settle that being near you is enough.

“what are you thinking?” you said, ceasing his train of thought. he looked at you whose voice slightly slurred. “nothing.” he thought about drinking more but drew his hand back seeing how you’re getting drunk and it would need someone sober to bring them home. “lies, your face shows otherwise just now.” you put the weight of your head on your right hand, staring intently at the gray-haired male. “just.. a deadline i forgot.” he rested his gaze somewhere else. you snorted loudly, like a wave of laughter just hit you suddenly and you couldn’t hold it in. “fine, i won’t force you to tell. but you’ll have to know that’s a very bad excuse, mr. ‘i always submit my work a week early’”

“touche.” alhaitham drank to that.

-

“i’m done here, wanna head back?” you started to stand up, heading out from the tavern. haitham paid the tab and was quick to tail you out. contrary to what he always said the next morning, he really didn’t mind taking care of you when you’re drunk. if it means more time being close to you like this, then he wouldn’t dare to mind.

not long after following you, he saw you standing still looking around for something. when he reached your vision, your eyes lit up. “there you are!!” you put your hand around his waist, dangerously low—and certainly low enough to make the usual stoic man slightly flustered. he sighed, having seen this way too many times but he hadn’t allowed himself to be used to this. not when he could lose this familiarity any second of the night.

“you’re always so-” he cut himself off, knowing whatever complaints will fall on deaf ear. so inconsiderate as to how i feel.

“let’s get you home first.” he put an arm on your shoulder, his big hand rested on the side of your upper arm. unlike usual where you just let yourself dragged around by him, this time you just stood there, not budging.

“haitham, kiss me.” you casted your gaze down.

“i don’t kiss drunkards,” he nonchalantly said, thinking it’s just another of your rambling under the influence of alcohol. but when you looked at him, he was surprised at your serious expression, traces of being intoxicated was nowhere to be found.

“then what if i’m not drunk?” you asked, this time your eyes was unwavering, looking straight at the male in front of you. he seemed a bit conflicted, still wasn’t sure if you’re being honest or not. but it was true, you only ordered grape juice a moment ago. come to think of it, assuming that you’re drunk wasn’t really your fault now is it?

haitham is a tough nut to crack, even more so than some researches you were forced to jump into as a student at akademiya. however under the layers of that, you could not help but be drawn to him as you get to know him. haitham who’s always seemed so out of touch with his emotions, when it turns out he’s just having a hard time understanding things that is not in text books. you saw the way his eyes drooped ever so slightly every time you said you had to go out of sumeru to work on a project, or when his lips displayed the tiniest smile when you told him you would wait for him in the library to go home together. his gestures were extremely subtle but you could not let it go unnoticed, especially when you’re about the only person whose presence let him to lower his guard.

“then how about this, kiss me first then you tell me if you taste any alcohol or not.” it was a daring move, but it was a needed push. alhaitham wanted to refuse, probably, although that thought went away as quick as it came when your hand came in contact with his cheek, bringing his face close to you. “make sure to taste it, alright?” you whispered, then leaned in.

the kiss was intended to be short and sweet, however you’ve underestimated your own desire to have this man’s lips against yours. his kiss quickly became intense, yet it’s still gentle. with one last peck you parted, “how about it?” you asked. “not terrible.” he said curtly, the last ounce of composure he had manage to reply. but it clearly betrayed the pleasant expression he had on his face completely.

you raised an eyebrow, implying that clearly, it was not what you asked. haitham stared at you and a realization hit him, perhaps pretty hard since he decided to rest his gaze elsewhere but on you. “no alcohol.” he confirmed.

“so, not terrible huh? i thought it was pretty amazing.” you teased, peering at him. he clicked his tongue, still a bit flustered. “stop teasing.” he sighed.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” you confessed, the night breeze freshened your head a little. haitham was having a hard time believing that. “and this is coming from someone who’s so adamant in saying that you’re a friend?”

“yes, and that’s coming from someone whose face always becomes strange when i said it? tonight was for that, if you had refused to kiss me then that’s that.” you said. “i don’t think i could ever resist you.” he said honestly. his bluntness made your heart skip a beat.

“well next time, we’ll just have to do it in a better place and time.” you smiled, “next time, huh?” he pondered, this time he put his hands on either side of your waist bringing you close. he stole another kiss. “can we just do it whenever?” another kiss.

“can’t get enough?” you teased. “never.” he replied. you tangled your hand to his grey locks, bringing him close for another kiss yet again. fortunately it was way past midnight and you were both at the darker side of the road which would be no matter since it’s pretty much empty.

you both pulled away.

“not a really terrible drinking buddy anymore, don’t you think?”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #genshin fluff #genshin scenarios