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incognit0slut · 1 year

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Buried in the pillow

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A night of restless sleep ends better than expected. Based on;

warning: 18+ explicit content including edging, a little chocking, sexual intercourse, and dom spence

words: 4,6k (I got carried away😭)

a/n: am I supposed to be writing something else? Yes. Will it stop me from writing a slow, lazy sex scene? NO

MASTERLIST

“…you’re buried in the pillow, yeah you’re so loud…”

THERE WAS NO DENYING THE WARM FLOOD OF AROUSAL RUSHING IN HER SYSTEM. Y/n inhaled a sharp breath, her heart rate climbing in her chest she could feel her pulse throbbing through her entire body. She readjusted herself along her pillow and closed her eyes before exhaling, her thighs pressed together as she tried not to let her mind travel into any lewd thoughts.

But the sound of his shallow breathing was enough to make her terribly aware of the abrupt shift in her body. She could feel the dull, needy throb between her legs merging with that burn of sheer want for him low in her stomach. Her eyes fluttered open then, and there he was, sleeping on his side of the bed with his face facing toward her.

Spencer looked so peaceful. His eyes were closed, lashes brushing along his cheeks, and his mouth slightly parted while his chest rose in a steady rhythm, a sign of him in complete slumber. She had seen the drowsiness in his eyes the moment he walked through the door this evening, the fatigue clumped in his shoulders as he kissed her in greeting. It had been days since the last time he had proper sleep, having to travel across the country for a recent case, and today he finally had the chance to rest his bones from all of the work.

But it also meant it had been eleven days, fifteen hours, and forty-six minutes since the last time she had him buried deep inside her...

Not that she was counting.

Fine—maybe she was. Maybe she was keeping up with their time apart because being with him was something she looked forward to, in and out of the bedroom. How could she not? He was her partner; her smart, caring boyfriend who she loved too damn much and would do anything to bide the time relishing in his presence.

Although tonight she did have a specific activity in mind, which now seemed more like wishful thinking considering he was already deep in slumber. He needed the sleep, she reminded herself. He was simply tired and he needed all the rest he could get.

Swallowing hard, Y/n tried to push her desire back down. She turned over, laid back down on her back, and let her eyelids fall back down as she settled her arms to her side. But the position was too uncomfortable. She let out a groan and shifted again, hips moving along the bed a few times before she finally stopped.

The feel of something shifting woke Spencer up, his mind slowly stirring awake. A soft sigh escaped him as he lay silently, his mind quieted in the stillness of the night. Then his breathing evened out a moment later, exhaustion of the past few days took over before his eyelids lowered, body drifting back to sleep. Except for a little bit later, he heard more rustling along the pillow, a soft, feminine sound of frustration barely ringing in his ears. This time he slowly opened his eyes, adjusting himself in the dark.

The first thing he noticed was a mass of hair laid in front of him, then bare arms and a slender body clad in a silky nightgown. There was silence as he tried to pick up her breathing, watching her back move steadily in the poorly lit room. When another exasperated sigh escaped her, Spencer inched closer and reached out, an arm wrapping around her waist as he pulled her closer toward him.

"Hey," he softly murmured, concerned about her constant movements in her sleep. "You alright?"

Y/n stopped herself from letting out a moan. On normal occasions, being pressed up against him in bed would lull her to sleep, the comfort of his arms provided an immense amount of warmth and safety. Definitely not tonight. The way his arm tightened around her, tugging her back into his solid chest awoken that part of her she tried to suppress. The heat of his body enveloped her and she found herself leaning back, accepting the warmth he was offering.

"Hmm," her returning hum answered, sinking deeper into his embrace.

"Bad dream?"

She stopped herself from snorting. She couldn't even get a wink of sleep and here he was, concerned about the possibility of her having nightmares. But it was a better reason than to admit why she couldn't rest her eyes, so she nodded, her voice slightly breathless as she whispered, "Something like that."

The silence in the air after her reply was jarring. If Spencer was half-awake before, he was fully awake now, the rasp in her voice far too familiar for him to ignore. And when he finally regained his consciousness back, he became highly aware of his surroundings. The soft mattress underneath him, the plush pillow below his head, and the soft curves pressed against him.

He could feel her body trembling underneath his palm, her breathing picking up its pace as his fingers glided along her stomach. He could practically hear the sound of her heartbeat as he pulled her even closer, his head shifting along her shoulder, his nose brushing against the back of her neck. The subtle fragrance of flowers and honey filled his nostrils as he breathed in her scent, nuzzling further into her, the stubble of his jaw grazing along her skin.

"Spence," she muttered, tilting her head into the pillow. "What are you doing?"

"You seem to be having trouble sleeping." She felt the bed shift behind her as he moved again, and then a moment later she felt him pressing his hips into her ass. She let out a gasp. "I'm helping you relax."

She felt something pleasantly warm grazing her neck, his lips moving deliberately slow, as if he was in no hurry and only wanted to savor the taste of her skin. His hand then slid further up her stomach, palm flat as it dragged up her body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It eventually stopped its roam, halting its search when he cupped her left breast tenderly.

She couldn't stop the strained moan from slipping out of her mouth. "Sleep isn't exactly on my mind right now."

"I figured," he murmured beside her ear, his hot breath drawing goosebumps along her skin. "How long have you been awake?"

His hand gently kneaded her breast as his mouth traveled along her neck. Her eyelids lowered slightly, a wet heat forming between her thighs as her arousal intensified. "I haven't slept."

"And why is that?" A finger brushed across her nipple through her thin nightgown. She suppressed a helpless whimper as his thumb circled around the nub, caressing it so gently she could feel her body shaking with need. "Go on." He tugged on her nipple between his fingers. "Use your words."

"I..." She felt his tongue softly grazing her skin before he wrapped his mouth around her flesh, sucking on the spot. What was she to say? That she was too aroused to relax? She carefully weighed her words, feeling bashful verbalizing her thoughts, so she finally settled with, "It was too hot."

He hummed in response, somehow acknowledging the meaning behind her words. She watched as his hand left her breast, sliding up her bare arm before it settled on the strap of her flimsy sleepwear. He gently tugged down the thin string as his mouth lowered towards her shoulder, languorously trailing kisses down the line of it. "We should do something about that, shouldn't we?"

She couldn't think clearly when his touch sent her into a whirlwind of chaos. To crave something was one thing, to actually acquire that craving was an entirely different thing. She had wanted to feel him so much, but as his hand trailed back to her now-exposed breast, her mind was in a mess of desperate longing and need. Somehow his mouth trailing on her neck wasn't enough. Somehow his callused fingers stroking her nipple wasn't enough. She needed to feel every inch of his body on her. She wanted all of him.

More, more, more.

"Spence," she breathed out, her hoarse voice hanging in the air.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Tell me." His grip on her nipple tightened, and she shuddered at the sensation. "Tell me what you want."

"You," she answered in a daze. "I want you."

"What do you want me to do?" He gently bit her flesh. "Do you want me to make you feel good? Do you want me to touch you, relax the tension in your body?" Then her heart sped up in her chest, slamming roughly into her rib cage at his next words.

"Do you want me to fuck you to sleep?"

A strangled whimper left her mouth. Spencer was a lot of things in bed. When they had first been together, he was so timid and unsure of himself, too caught up in his thoughts that left him too afraid to touch her—which she honestly hadn't minded, she loved being the one who saw his transformation in the bedroom. But when he finally started to loosen up and be himself with her, exploring things he wanted to try, to finally take control? It drove her absolutely wild to experience him gain his confidence it made her weak in the knees every damn time.

Like this side of him now always managed to render her speechless. Perhaps it was the way he was so poised and calm outside the bedroom, a very different demeanor when he was alone with her, that made it all seem so overwhelming. In the safety of their bedroom, he was everything he desired, and being crude and demanding was what he decided to be this night.

His hand caressing her nipple slid up her chest, his fingers gently wrapping around the base of her neck. Her breath hitched as he softly gripped it, pulling her even further into his chest. "Tell me, is that what you want?"

She was breathing even heavier now, her shoulders heaving with each audible inhale. "Yes."

He bit her earlobe, evoking another breathless shudder out of her. "Explain it in words, I need you to speak to me."

Y/n enjoyed the sweet, gentle way he made love to her. She really did. Very, very much so. But there was a certain enjoyment whenever he was in control. Whenever he let himself go and have his way with her—crass words over sweet nothings, rough stokes over soft touches. It burned her skin and gripped onto her arousal, waking up the submissive side of her which she enjoyed more than she should probably have.

Spencer's grip tightened at her silence. "Are you not going to answer me?"

"Yes," she quickly responded, feeling the subtle bulge of him pressed along her backside. "Please."

"Please... what?"

She couldn't believe he was making her say it. Y/n inhaled a sharp breath and leaned into his touch, practically shifting the weight of her body on top of him. "Spence."

"I need to hear the words or you won't get anything at all," he spoke, his thumb grazing her chin.

The thought of being left sexually frustrated was enough for her to nod, giving in to his command. "Yes," she whispered, and because she wanted to make him feel as desperate as she was, she squirmed, hips writhing along his groin as she searched for friction. "I want you to fuck me to sleep."

A pleased rumble vibrated in his throat. Letting go of her neck, his hand trailed down her body and landed on the top of her thigh, gently massaging the muscle beneath his palm. His fingers skimmed up toward her skin, pushing up her nightgown, exposing more delicate skin and skimpy underwear barely covering her ass. Then it happened so fast. One moment he was caressing her, the next thing she knew his hand drew back before it came barreling forward with a sharp smack that echoed in the room. She gasped in pleasant surprise, her clit throbbing in excitement as his palm rubbed along the stinging flesh.

"You liked that, didn't you?"

She whimpered in response. Then his hand retreated from her ass only to come flying forward again with another sharp crack. Her hips jolted forward at the impact, her eyes closing at the delicious sting as his hand held onto her her stomach. His fingers then slowly trailed south and her breath hitched in her throat as she felt his lips hot on her ear.

"Open your legs, sweetheart."

Her knees fell apart at the demand, one of her legs laying on top of his. She waited for him to touch her, to dip his hand into her aching folds in the confinement of her underwear. Instead, his fingers slipped into the side of her fabric, tugging the material to the side, exposing wet, damp skin to his desire. The slick evidence of her arousal stuck onto the fabric so thickly it was enough for her to feel the heat creeping along her cheeks.

"Would you look at that?" He whispered, lips touching the back of her ear. "I haven't even touched you here and you're already soaking wet."

Her heart was pounding hard in her chest as she watched him. There wasn't a moment of hesitation while his fingers tugged the waistband of her underwear, gingerly sliding them down her legs before pulling them past her feet and casting them somewhere over the side of the bed. Then he grabbed onto her knee, parting her legs further apart but not doing anything to quench her desire. He could feel her trembling, writhing with need as she pressed further into his front.

The cool air hit her exposed skin, and it took a lot of self-control for her not to beg even further, but the way her body squirmed was enough to let him know what she craved. Though his hand stayed where it was, firmly gripping onto her left leg, sliding it on top of his while his lips lazily mapped along her neck.

"Here's what we're going to do," his gruff voice filled her ears. "I'm going to touch you, I'm going to please you in every way you like—" His hand slid painfully slow down her thigh before it came to a complete stop. "—but you can only cum when I give you permission to." His fingers inched closer to her throbbing heat. "Do I make myself clear?"

A shiver spread along her body, understanding what he meant by those words. He wanted to rule her, he wanted to be the one in charge of her own body. And while she should've felt appalled at the thought, her arousal rather grew deeper at every ticking second as he waited for her reply.

And then suddenly his fingers wrapped around her neck again, gently pressing onto her skin as he jutted his hips towards her. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," she begged him, her hand lightly tugging around his arm. "Perfectly clear."

Then his hand trailed down again, slightly brushing her aroused nipples before it settled on the heated span between her legs. When the pads of his fingers lightly grazed her clit, his teeth bit down on her shoulder. A hiss of pleasure instantly flew out of her mouth. Two of his fingers began running back and forth between her damp folds, the sensation was gradually pulling shallower and shallower breaths from her.

"You're so wet," he growled against her skin. "This what you've been needing?"

She faintly nodded, her hips moving gradually with his fingers. His fingers circled in swift motion and it was enough for her to roll her head back onto his shoulder. His fingers then slid back into her slicked entrance before he abruptly slipped two of them into her. Eyes snapping shut, she groaned in pleasure. He began thrusting slowly into her over and over, curling them deep inside. A whimper escaped her mouth at the feel of them as he began to pump into her roughly, her hips pressing eagerly back into his hand.

"I can already feel you clenching around my fingers," he whispered. "You really needed this, didn't you?"

"So much," she found herself answering, a hand grasping onto his arm as he kept thrusting his fingers at a steady pace. "I needed you."

"Then you have me. You'll always have me."

A breathy moan flew out of her at his words, her back arched in response. She felt his lips pulling into a smile along her skin, thrusting his fingers all the way in. She moaned loudly, her head dropping down between his shoulders as he pulled his fingers out before quickly pushing them right back inside.

"Spence," she breathlessly sighed, his fingers still vigorously thrusting into her, only pausing to occasionally curl inside of her which in turn had her toes curling on the bed, her body feeling closer to the edge of her release. "I-I'm gonna—"

"No. You're not."

She let out a loud groan, griping his arm as he thrust deeper, his fingers spreading wider into her as another finger entered her heat. His warm breath was brushing over her skin, the sensation mingled with his finger still thrusting into her deliciously pleasant. "Baby, I-I can't—"

"You can," he whispered, his breathing sounding harsher than before. "You're going to wait until I give you my permission."

A harsh moan ripped in her throat, her body spasming as she tried to force herself to control her body. but it was getting harder to do when her vision felt like it was blurring, her breath coming in sharp pants as his fingers continued to drive into her, the sensation had her legs shaking. She could hear how wet she was, the slick sound of him pumping into her echoed in the room.

"You're really enjoying this," he ground out as his pace picked up. "You're already so close."

She nodded against the pillow, whimpering out an affirmative noise that wasn't quite a word.

"Then I can't let that happen."

Instead of getting what she wanted, he abruptly pulled his fingers out from inside of her before she whined in protest. The loss of his touch on her body was too much to handle as she gripped his arm again, guiding him back between his legs. Spencer couldn't help the amusement dripping in his voice as he watched her move his fingers with her own. "What are you doing?"

"Spence, I was so close—"

"That's not how this works."

Then he retrieved his hand again before shifting behind her, and when she caught him pulling down his sweatpants, she couldn't help but arch her body towards him. She swallowed hard, goosebumps raising along her skin as she watched him pull out his cock, his hand gripping onto the length of it as he settled between her legs.

A moment later she felt the head of his cock rubbing through her damp folds, a shudder running down her spine at the sensation, a soft hum vibrating through her lips. She felt him line himself up with her entrance, her breath feeling like it was catching in her throat as she impatiently waited for him.

And then, finally, after many days of being apart, the tip of him slid inside of her so slowly. A gasp fell out of her mouth. Spencer rumbled out a very gruff, contented noise as he gradually sunk even deeper inside of her, pausing to let herself adjust to him.

"You feel so warm," he groaned out. "So perfectly warm."

She moaned in response, breath coming in hard. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

She could feel her walls fluttering around him, trying to adjust to his girth. Then his hips slowly began rocking into her, pleasure washing over her body in waves at the sensation. His mouth lowered beside her ear, each of his panting breaths falling straight into it. "Nice—" He moved his hips back before pushing them forward leisurely, enjoying the way she clenched around him. "—and slow."

The roll of his hips pulled her into a trance as her body responded; muscles straining, eyes widening, lips parting. Sparks of electricity began to ricochet along every nerve. The coil inside her was building up, her chest was rising and falling faster, more and more, dragging desperate breaths into her lungs with every thrust of his hips.

Then her eyes shifted downwards, watching the way he entered her deliciously body. It was a strange sight, to watch her body react to something so wonderful. Her muscles tensed, goosebumps sprang up along her skin, and it was all there for her viewing pleasure. She watched as he shoved himself into her, over and over again, her walls trembling at how intoxicating he was making her feel.

"Baby, I—" she whimpered, trembling in her wake. "I can't hold much longer."

"You can," he assured her, his fingers digging into her skin.

Weak and desperate, she surrendered in the wake of the urge elicited by his abrasive touch. His hands were all over her, large and expansive, confident in the way he touched, squeezed, and fondled every part of her body. Eager flames bloomed in the pit of her gut. "I—I can't."

He relished the way she clenched around him, her breathing coming out shallow as he took what he wanted. Then he gripped her hips, building up his pace as he thrust deeper into her. "You're so close, I can feel it," he pointed out. "Do you want to cum?"

She tried to focus her mind on something other than the feeling of him inside her. "Yes."

"Hmm," he hummed out, his pace briefly slowing. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he demanded, "Beg me or I'll stop."

A whimper left her. "Spence."

His lips found her neck when he felt her walls squeezing him even tighter, "Do you want to cum?" he repeated against her skin.

"Mhmm."

"Use your words," he groaned as he increased the pace of his movements. "Say it."

Swallowing hard, her head rolled against his shoulder. Her lips were quivering as he kept up his pace, her body inching closer and closer to her release. She was fighting to hold it back, her body slowly beginning to shake along the mattress.

"Beg." Thrust. "Me." Thrust.

She was so close. Her eyes were half-lidded her voice rang in the air, breathless and desperate for his mercy from the overwhelming pleasure. "Please," she finally breathed out, almost letting out a cry, her lips parted in delight. "Baby—I-I... please let me cum."

"What was that?"

"Spencer," she whimpered desperately. "Please. Please. Let me—fuck.. baby, please."

This time she did let out a cry.

He snarled behind her before his teeth snapped at her earlobe, tugging at the delicate skin. Her body was quaking on the bed as she whined, struggling to hold back any longer. And when she felt like she was about to lose control, he finally released her earlobe and spoke, "Go on, then. Cum for me."

A loud moan flew up out of her throat, her body pressing back into his. She felt the hard clench of her walls around his length as pleasure spread through her entire body. As the coil in her stomach grew, she couldn't help but snake a hand down to where they were connected and quickly found her throbbing sex. Catching her desperate fingers, he swatted her hand away, replacing it with his own as his fingers circled around her clit.

His rough fingers taunting their joint bodies tipped her over that tantalizing edge. She felt each pulse of her walls so acutely, felt the heat flow throughout her spine as the high she reached never came to an end. He buried his face into her neck, kissing and biting the smooth skin. A certain movement from his fingers made her whole body shake. She couldn't handle it, couldn't see through the tears falling, couldn't feel anything but him and the hot pleasure.

She finally came with a scream, wrenched from her throat so roughly it seared its way out of her lungs and into the air. She felt herself clench around him, hard, and his hips shuddered violently against her. Her ears tingled at the rhythm of his grunts as he exhaled her name, his thrusts growing erratic. Then she felt him completely, she could feel his warmth seeping into her heat as he let out the most primal groan she had ever heard.

Silence engulfed them afterward, their heart slowing down from their erratic breathing. It wasn't until he slipped out of her that she let out a tired moan, her voice echoing in the dark. He gently grabbed her body and turned her around, cradling her cheek before leaning in for a kiss.

Then slowly, but steadily, all he tasted was her. It felt like a missing puzzle falling back to its place as his warm lips connected with hers. He was so enraptured by her touch, by the taste of her, that it took a lot for him to pull away. Breathing heavily, he finally rested his head back onto his pillow, a coy smile stretched on his lips as his thumb stroked along her cheek.

"Hi."

A sincere smile flourished on her face. "Hi."

"Well, that was... something."

She laughed as she leaned closer, wrapping her arm around his waist. "It was fun."

"It really was," he agreed, suddenly feeling shy as he realized what had just occurred. "I always surprise myself when I'm with you."

"Good," she simply said. He wrapped his arms around her as she settled in his embrace. They lay in comfortable silence, her head on his chest, legs draped over him as his fingers drew lazy patterns on her thigh. Then after a moment of relishing each other's presence, his deep voice cut through the silence.

"You know," he started, his voice very soft. "You could've just woken me up if you have trouble sleeping."

She slightly leaned back to look up at him. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you."

"Nothing about you will ever be disturbing to me."

She wrinkled her nose. "Even if you got home from a long, exhausting trip, you wouldn't mind if I woke you up for sex?"

"I'd especially want to be woken up for that reason," he replied in disbelief. His fingers trailed under her chin, angling her gaze on him. "Wouldn't you?"

She smiled at the thought. There was a delightful feeling as her mind wandered on the possibility of him interrupting her sleep because he craved her touch. "Alright," she agreed. "Duly noted."

His arms tightened around her. "Do you think you can sleep now?"

She hummed out a positive response, her face burrowing along his skin, just beneath his chin. Her body suddenly felt the heavy post-sexual bliss, and now surrounded by his warmth, she could feel the fatigue creeping into her body.

"I was hoping so," he murmured.

Tugging the sheets up higher over their body, she felt him shifting along the bed for a minute, his arms encircling her waist. His chin was carefully tucked onto the top of her head as he drew her in tight under the covers. And when the steady rhythm of his breathing embraced her, her body finally relaxed, falling into sleep.

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ickadori · 5 months

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𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐋

[cws] none. gn reader.

“If I couldn’t use magic, would you still love me?”

You trace the dark lines on Orter’s face as you curl into his side, his bare chest steadily rising and falling with his breaths.

“What notion gave you the idea that I loved you?”

“Well, we’re married for starters.” You move to his hair next, smoothing the sweat-dampened locks out of his face.

“Marriages of convenience are not uncommon.”

You give him a bland look, one which he can’t see due to his closed eyes, and flick your fingers against his nose before moving to get out of the bed. His arms slither around your waist and pull you back against him, the both of you now on your sides and staring into each others eyes. “I was joking.”

“Your jokes are terribly unfunny.” A ghost of a smile settles on his lips.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t marry me for my humor then, isn’t it?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

You’ve always wondered if Orter’s love for you was conditional on if you could use magic or not. If you had been born without the blessing from the Gods, the very thing that was revered throughout this world, would he have still fallen for you? Would he have declared his love for you in a murky, dust-ridden library in a hushed whisper before kissing you behind the cover of a book? Would he have held you so tenderly, embraced you so lovingly, loved you like this if not?

“If it were the other way around,” you start, “I’d still love you.” And it’s the truth - you would love Orter through it all. If he were to lose his magic as well as everything to his name tomorrow, he’d still have you and your love.

He sighs out through his nose, one big hand settling on your waist, his skin hot against yours. “I abhor any and everything that threatens the current order of things - you know this. While I acknowledge that boy’s strength and contributions to keep this world safe…I would not hesitate to do away with him solely due to his lack of magic.” His gaze doesn’t falter, and you feel the corners of your mouth downturn as you try to bat away your disappointment.

It was a silly question, one you knew you wouldn’t like the answer to, and yet you had still asked. I have no right to be upset.

“With that being said, I can’t imagine myself feeling anything but love and adoration for you.”

“Orter..”

“Me hating you is simply unfathomable - if you were to wake up tomorrow and realize you could do exponentially better than me, I would still love you. If you were to drive a knife through my heart and smile as you did it, I would still love you. If you were to lose every drop of magic in your body, I would still love you. I’m aware that me saying that makes me a hypocrite, but there are worse things to be in this life.”

His hand moves to cup your cheek, and he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before going to pull away, only to be stopped by your arms winding around his neck as you deepen the kiss, unable to stop the blinding smile that takes over your face.

“I love you,” you say in between kisses, and Orter maneuvers the both of you so he’s flat on his back with you straddling his hips. His hands settle on your waist and you push yourself up, your own hands splayed across his chest as you look down at him. “Even if you do look silly without your glasses.”

“…please disregard my earlier sentiments.”

#mashle x reader #orter x reader #doesn’t matter what time i post this bc the fandom is nonexistent anyways :3

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fyodior · 8 months

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PRETTY, PRETTY, PRETTY

♥︎ pairing: odasaku x pregnant afab reader

♥︎ cw: breeding/pregnancy kink, body worship, creampie, lots of pet names (pretty girl, darling, sweetheart), vaginal sex via spooning, fingering, squirting. 18+ only, minors DNI !!

♥︎ notes: breedtober fic 2! why can i never keep things just short blurbs. love u all

♥︎ wc: 1.7k

want more of breedtober?

Oda already loved to worship your body. He swore he’d never seen someone as breathtakingly beautiful as you, and knew for a fact he never would. But now that you were pregnant? Holy shit. He could stare at you all day long and still not get enough.

The way your body had softened around the edges, your plush hips and how they had widened to accommodate for the baby, your steadily growing belly, your swollen tits. It’s a cliche, but you truly had that pregnancy glow - and Oda was entranced. Your body was a holy temple, at the feet of which he’d worship every day.

Already late enough into your pregnancy, you had decided to take maternity leave - or rather, Oda very much pushed you to - so you could stay rested and safe before your due date. But with Oda still working full time, it meant you got pretty damn bored.

It struck Oda as strange when he walked through the door one evening, work bag slung over his shoulder, and didn’t see you on the couch waiting for him like you normally did. You had recently developed a hyperfixation on crocheting, especially plushies and blankets for the baby, yet all of the supplies had been abandoned on the kitchen table. He didn’t think too much of it though, just figured maybe you had gone to the bedroom to take a nap or call your friends or family.

What Oda was not expecting, was what he actually opened the bedroom door to.

Back propped up against an army of pillows, you laid completely naked on your shared bed with your legs spread wide, tears slipping down your cheeks as your hefty baby bump kept you from being able to touch yourself. Slick dripped down your thighs and your clit was swollen from how neglected and needy it was, but you just couldn’t reach. Oda's face fell and he rushed to sit by you on the bed.

“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” he cooed, leaning in to wipe away the tears that continued to flow. He simply felt terrible - not only because you were struggling, but for how much this turned him on.

“Was so horny but you were gone, and now I can’t reach around my bump anymore,” you cried, leaning into the comforting touch of your lover. “I tried… a pillow for a bit but it was too tiring, and 'm too sensitive for the vibrator.” a deep frown had settled onto your face as you explained, burning with humiliation.

“Sweetheart,” your lover frowned, hand resting on the taut skin of your tummy as he tried to ignore the way your words made his cock twitch. Feather light fingertips traced along the stretch marks that adorned your hips, lips turning up into a gentle smile. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, though you didn’t really mean it - and Oda knows that.

He moved to position himself between your legs, hands still resting on your stomach. “Can I help you out, baby? Show you just how beautiful I think you are? Hm?”

God, Oda always knew just what to say. Bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you nodded shyly. “Would you?” you normally weren’t this bashful, but there was just something about him and his presence that made you feel so giddy and… overwhelmed, almost.

“Nothing I'd rather do more, sweetheart,” he smiled.

He didn’t waste any time either. Gently pressing his hands on your thighs, he spread them out further, marveling at your pussy that was now on full display. Pregnancy hormones had caused the tissues to swell slightly, your lips and clit puffy.

“You’re fucking beautiful, baby,” he smirked, tracing the slit with his middle finger. Painfully desperate for stimulation, you were already whining. “Need more?”

You nodded frantically. More than happy to oblige, Oda's finger trailed up to play ever so lightly with your clit.

“Right there, right fucking there,” you gasped, keening. the one spot you’d been trying to reach for what felt like hours.

“I know, pretty, I know,” Oda soothed, continuing to rub slow but consistent circles around the hyper sensitive spot.

Your toes curled and head fell back against the pillows as you got the stimulation you had needed so badly, but Oda was starting to get excited too - the growing hard-on in his pants undeniable proof of it. He’d love to lean in and kiss you, but the round dome of your belly acted as a barrier, so he opted to kiss the skin of it instead.

“So, so pretty,” he mumbled, deciding to slip one finger into your hole - it accepted it easily as you gasped. And you were more than slick and needy enough to welcome a second. His thumb remained on your clit, massaging it as he slowly but thoroughly fucked you with his fingers, occasionally scissoring them to stretch you out. The bulge in his pants only grew as more and more of your essence dripped down his fingers.

“Oda,” you whined, shifting your hips and clenching around his fingers.

“Feel good?” he prompted as if he didn’t already know the answer. A slight smirk played on his lips as you only mewled and nodded.

In the beginning you had only just wanted to get off, rub your clit just enough for an orgasm or two to quell the aching desire in you, but now that your lover was present and helping you out, you couldn’t help but get greedy. Not when he looked like that, and was doing that.

“Want more,” you whined, reaching to grip his arm.

“Yeah?” he was fully smirking now. “My pretty, pretty girl wants to be fucked with more than just some fingers?” Oda had never talked this dirty - not until he met you. Your slight nod was all he needed.

Carefully helping you onto your side, Oda shimmied off his pants and boxers before slotting himself behind you, kissing up your back and shoulders. Spooning wasn’t his favorite position as he couldn’t see you too well, but it was what was most comfortable for you this late in your pregnancy. Even still, he was entranced by you.

Only a few tugs to his heavy cock was enough before he was ready to give you what you wanted, the head prodding at your hole before slipping inside your needy cunt. Oda grunted as you nearly squealed, fascinated with how easily and quickly he completely bottomed out. Your poor cunt, how long had it been painfully desperate to be filled?

A large, callused hand comes to rest on the underside of your belly, holding you close to him as he whispered sweet encouraging words into your ear.

“My beautiful, perfect girl,” he mused, “so gorgeous carrying my baby. Everyone can see that you’re mine.”

It drove Oda absolutely mad every single day to see you waddling down the hallway or struggling to button yet another pair of pants in the morning - proof of your body growing his child. The baby he put in there. And when you walked down the street together, his hand on your lower back, everyone knew that you were his, and what he had done to you. What you had done together.

His mind was absolutely reeling as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you, hand trailing down from your belly back to your clit.

“Oda!” you squealed, hips bucking towards the touch and clumsily throwing your head back against him. Only a soft chuckle left his lips as he continued to touch you and build up a faster pace.

But now Oda was starting to get a little desperate too. Being gentle, he grabbed your leg by the underside of your knee and hoisted it up to give him better access, allowing for him to thrust a little harder and faster into you. The way he fucked you good and deep had you gasping for air, your hands flailing behind you to try and find him and grab onto him. His thick cock always stretched you out deliciously and hit all the right spots, and with the new angle he was managing to rub against your sweet spot with every single thrust.

“How you feelin’, pretty?” he asked. “The baby okay?”

You nodded fervently, digging your fingers into his arm. “S-so good,” you stuttered, breathless. “Baby’s okay, she’s fine, just- faster, please!” And how could he deny you when you were begging like that?

Hoisting your leg up even higher, Oda fucked into you with purpose. A mix of slick and precum drooled down your thighs and soaked the sheets underneath, the lewd, wet sounds echoing through the bedroom. You moaned and squeezed your sore tits that had swollen considerably since getting pregnant, but also had become much more sensitive. Massaging the soft fat only added to the ecstasy.

The way you were clenching tightly and creaming all over his cock had Oda’s mind short circuiting, and he could feel his high approaching faster and faster.

“Can you come for me, sweetheart?” he cooed, breathing heavily but nibbling lightly on your neck.

“Please,” you whined.

Angling his hips just right, Oda used the grip he had on you to pull you towards him in tandem with his thrusts, hitting your spot over and over while the tip of his cock kissed your cervix.

“G-gonna-” You couldn’t even get the words out before moaning loudly and squirting all over Oda.

He continued to fuck you through your high, chasing his own - with the mess you just made all over him, it wasn’t long at all.

“Want me to cum in you, pretty? Put another baby in you, yeah?” he panted.

“Want you- want all your babies, Oda!” you cried out, hissing from overstimulation as he continued to fuck into your sensitive pussy. His hips stuttered before shooting a thick, warm load into you, grunting and groaning as his spent cock spit out the last of it.

Setting your leg down gently and pulling out, you whined at the sudden emptiness and the way his hot cum oozed out of your hole. Sweet kisses were peppered all over your back and your cheek as Oda pulled you close to his chest, palm spreading out across your baby bump.

“Can’t wait to give you all my babies, pretty girl,” he smiled, making you giggle softly. “At this rate, gonna keep you pregnant forever.”

And honestly, in your fucked out haze, and with the way he always worshipped you, that didn’t sound too bad.

#oda x reader #odasaku x reader #oda smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 5 months

Text

you had made a mistake.

levi had been busy for the past few days and it was driving you nuts. you didn't intentionally brat out on him by any means, but your attitude was definitely more bitter and dry compared to usual.

thus, you found yourself currently in the back of a storage closet, propped onto one of the wooden crates, with two of levi's fingers buried deep into your dripping cunt.

as soon as you moved to cover your mouth to muffle your moans, levi grabbed onto your wrists and pinned them over your head, while his fingers continued to pump in and out of you, rubbing up against your sweet spot each time.

"quiet down," he hissed as you let out an audible moan upon his thumb drawing circles around your swollen clit. "you want everyone to hear how desperate you are?"

you bit on your lip in a futile attempt to stifle your moans and shook your head, hoping he'd let you cum if you put on some good behavior for him. it was a foolish assumption.

as soon as he heard your breath getting caught in your throat with your thighs tensing and on the verge of clamping shut around his hand, in addition to your pussy tightening up around his fingers and your clit throbbing underneath the pad of his thumb, a dark look appeared in his eyes and he pulled out completely.

levi scoffed as soon as he heard you whine about having your orgasm stolen from you. "you think you deserve to cum with how much of a little shit you've been recently?"

you nodded, desperate to get back on his good side. you had finally gotten his attention and now that you had it, the idea of him teasing you, finger fucking you, and not letting you finish sounded overwhelming and terrible, and you felt your pussy already aching for more.

"...we'll see about that," he mumbled as he reached into his pocket.

you had assumed he was grabbing a handkerchief to clean himself up, ignoring your protests of wanting to gush around his fingers (or his cock, it didn't matter which), which already brought you to the edge of despair. however, you let out a muffled squeal, your now free hands immediately traveling to cover up your mouth as he attached a small vibrator onto your clit.

the small device hummed against the small bundle of nerves and you felt your own slick begin to steadily drip out of you. your eyes widened as you felt him pull your panties back onto you, with your pants following shortly after, buckling you up in what would otherwise seem like a gesture of caring affection, but was actually his way of letting you know just how much you had fucked up.

"if you take that thing off before the end of the day, i'm going to do much more than just making you beg for my cock."

dkfjlskdjflaskdf sometimes i get blessed by dreams uwu #: @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @moonmalice @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @emiwhore @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @roseofdarknessblog @saenora @noctemys @sixpennydame @grav3bab3 @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @meltingforthatackerman @astri-ackerman @levizonlywife @levilxvr @dreamtuna @darkstarlight82 @moonchild-angel @lucysarah-c @lovedbylevi @braunsbabe @professorweezy @chocoyanchan @v4mp-wife @la-undercover-latina @nixie-writes-aot @catskze join my taglist!

#n.sfw #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi smut #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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qdbs-writes · 1 year

Note

RE bois with Zombie!Reader that just wants to live in their tiny house in peace? Please?

RE Lads Reacting to Chill-Zombie!Reader

Leon Kennedy

You could have all the warning signs and barbed wire in the world around your little zombie house and Leon would still manage to bumble his way through your front door, yelling at you like you're the reason he's there.

He'll see that you're a zombie and instinctively round-house kick you into your tiny makeshift kitchen. He's about to rip the basil you were growing out of its pot when he notices how nice your little zombie house is. It was definitely better than his ratty apartment. Leon will have a small crisis of faith as he finally considers getting a bed frame.

Chris Redfield

Sees the words 'DON'T OPEN, DEAD INSIDE' on your little house and takes that as some kind of challenge. Surely whoever wrote that warning didn't mean him, what's the worse that could happen if he kicked in the door?

Off the door comes from its hinges, while Chris sweeps your one-room home with the barrel of his gun. He can't help but think to himself that this is a suspiciously nice zombie house. As his gaze reaches the last corner of your house, he spots you perched on your neatly made zombie bed, crocheting a little zombie blanket (even dead people need hobbies). When you continue to crochet awkwardly, albeit a bit slower than before, Chris decides he's made a terrible mistake, and backs out nervously, attempting to put the broken door back in its place as he leaves.

Carlos Olivera

He'd read the warning on your house as 'DON'T DEAD, OPEN INSIDE' and would still be like "This sign can't stop me; because I can't read!".

Deciding that the door would be too obvious of an entryway, Carlos instead sails through your window, knocking something over in the process. When he gets up, he sees you, a little zombie, sitting at a small breakfast table, watching the news on a grainy, antique TV. Carlos follows your gaze to his feet, where he sees the now-destroyed pie you had left to cool on the windowsill. Carlos is heartbroken as he remembers the pies his Abuela used to bake. Saddened at seeing your hard work go to waste, Carlos jumps into action. "Don't worry," he says "I can fix this!". He gets to work in your little kitchen and in no time at all, a new pie is in the oven. Afraid of breaking anything else, Carlos apologises one last time before he leaves, and you smile delightedly back at him.

Albert Wesker

For whatever bullshit reason he has to hide somewhere and decides the little, highly-defended cottage you live in would be perfect.

He slams your front door shut behind him, huffy and sweaty before he notices a surprisingly well-kept zombie nestled in an armchair, reading a book. Enjoy a healthy dose of silent, prolonged eye contact, until Wesker takes a look around the quaint, bombed-out hovel that you've made for yourself. Assuming you can speak, he's gonna have a lot of questions. They mostly center around if you would like to kindly enter this luxurious iron-barred box he keeps at all times... No, it's not a cage, it just looks like a cage! And no, the armed men with tranquilizer darts aren't here to hurt you, he promises!

Ethan Winters

Considering this man's luck, he'd probably come crashing in through your ceiling, groaning and cussing as he lands in a heap on your threadbare carpet.

Ethan sees that he's just fallen into your zombie house and wonders for a moment why bad things only seem to happen to him. But he struggles to get up after landing on his ankle. Steadily, you pull up a chair for him and make him a coffee, which was probably the most appetizing thing Ethan has had shoved in his face lately, so he drinks it. And it's not bad coffee either, maybe you used to work in a Starbucks. You and Ethan sit in amicable silence while he finishes his drink, thanking you quietly before hobbling out the door. He turns back as he leaves your garden and you send him off with a little wave. You were definitely a nice zombie.

#resident evil #resident evil headcanons #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #carlos olivera #carlos olivera x reader #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #resident evil reader insert #qdbs writing

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writeforfandoms · 8 months

Text

Vicious

Find my CoD masterlist

Looking to expand your territory, you find a military group in more or less the middle of nowhere, and spend a few days observing them. Of course, things are never easy, and soon you find yourself a permanent guest of one Commander Graves.

Coyote shifter f!reader x Phillip Graves

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, piv sex, teasing, biting, dirty talk, blood, injury, gunshot, emotional slow burn, enemies to lovers, eventual happy ending. PoV does shift.

Everybody thank @sprout-fics for literally plotting this out with me I don't even know how long ago. Thanks for infecting me with the Graves brainrot, love.

Word count: 11.5k (might wanna go grab a drink)

You approached the base with caution. You'd circled around the base for a few days before deciding to approach. You wanted to know what this was since it was in your territory. Well. Sort of. It was kind of right on the edge of your territory, but since there was a very rude pack of wolves pushing on your territory, you were looking to expand.

Thus, investigating.

The base was big and mostly flat, several buildings set up. You could vaguely see a hanger in the distance. Hmm. Interesting.

Trotting along, you lifted your nose to sniff the air. Lots of scents - men and gunpowder and oil. Hmm. Not terrible, but not great.

Maybe you should look elsewhere to expand.

There was a thunderous crack and a line of fire erupted across your back. You yelped, scrambling away, even as warm wetness seeped into your fur. You bolted, ignoring the pain, ignoring the blood. You needed to get somewhere safe to shift back and get medical attention. Or at least hide until you healed.

If the wolves found you like this, they'd kill you.

You made it away from the shooter, getting as far as an abandoned-looking building before you collapsed. Your legs gave out with a wobble and you whined softly to yourself. Your back hurt, a solid line of fire that pulsed steadily with your heart.

That was probably bad. You must have gotten hurt worse than you thought.

Jaws parted as you panted, you debated your options. You could try to sleep here, you could try to get somewhere safer, or you could shift back.

Even the thought of shifting made you hurt, and you laid your head down.

You needed medical attention. And liquids. And rest.

But rest would have to come first, because your body refused to cooperate with you otherwise.

As much as you knew it wasn't safe here, as much as you longed to get back to your own den… you closed your eyes.

Just a nap. Just enough rest to get you back on your feet to get home.

–

Graves had had a good day. Drills had gone well. One of his boys had shot at a coyote. All was well. He'd even authorized a couple boys to go find the coyote and put it out of its misery.

The last thing he expected was to see those two boys come back with a woman bundled between them, passed out cold and wrapped in one of their jackets. Her legs were bare beneath the jacket.

"What the fuck?" He muttered to himself, standing up straighter.

"Found her out in the middle o' nowhere," one of them said, flagging Graves down. "She's bleeding."

Graves frowned. Bleeding, unconscious, left in the middle of nowhere? Sounded like she'd run into some trouble.

"Bring her to medical," Graves ordered, already striding over to pull the door open for them. "And for fuck's sake find her some clothes." He held the door for the two and his gaze dipped down to what he could see of her. Mmm. Nice legs. Nice ass, too.

He resisted the urge to follow them to medical, trusting that they'd get her there. Instead he went to start on the necessary paperwork.

Medical paged him once she was cleaned up and dressed, and he told them to alert him as soon as she woke. Fingerprints hadn't gotten any pings yet, which was a good thing.

But still. He needed answers.

Graves huffed softly and leaned back in his chair. Nothing he could do about her for now but wait.

–

You woke slowly, warm and not sure why that felt wrong. Not at first. Then the smell registered.

This was not home.

You sat up quickly and then groaned softly, clenching your teeth. Oh, ouch. Your back fucking hurt.

"Oh good, you're awake."

You jerked your head to look at the door, eyes wide. A good-looking man stood there, eyes raking over you. He looked military - the way he stood, the cut of his clothes, the subtle bulge of a gun tucked in the back of his waistband. Oh fuck.

"How you feelin'?" His voice was mild as he grabbed a chair, pulling it over closer to your bed.

"Back hurts," you answered carefully. "Where am I?"

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, which remained cool. "Medical. I have a few questions for you."

You noted he didn't ask if you were up for it. Clearly this man was used to getting his way. You swallowed. His scent wafted to you, warm and a little spicy and far too alluring. "Okay."

"Do you know where my boys found you?"

You narrowed your eyes a little, thinking. Right. You'd been shot and ran away, and had collapsed outside that abandoned building. "Sort of?"

"Do you remember how you got there?" His gaze was more intense now and he leaned forward.

You had two options here that you could see. Make up some lie, or lie and say you didn't remember.

"I… don't remember." You swallowed hard, shifting your weight. Your back hurt and tugged a little. "What happened to my back?"

"Nice long scratch. Had to put in some stitches to keep your skin together." He didn't even flinch at the description. Not that you did either. You'd spent enough time as a coyote to see your fair share of blood.

"Thank you." You forced yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes were pretty. Alluring. Dammit.

"You're welcome." His smile was all arrogance now. "I'd appreciate some information in return."

"Like what?" Your gaze darted to the door nervously. This was bad. This was very bad. You needed to get out.

"Where were you before this? How did you get hurt?"

"I don't remember." You eyed him now carefully. You were injured, but maybe you could get the drop on him…

"Well. That's a damn shame, darlin'." He pushed to his feet, gaze fixed on you. "I'm afraid I need some answers before you can go."

"You can't keep me," you immediately retorted, twisting to face him. "That's not legal."

His smile turned condescending. "And who's gonna stop me?" He spread his hands out from his body, still smirking.

You tensed, gauging, and then lunged at him. You couldn't shift, not here. But maybe you wouldn't need to. You slammed into him, pain lighting up your back, and tried to shove past him. He recovered fast, faster than you expected, grabbing you and hauling you back to him. You growled, low and angry, and bit his shoulder. Hard.

He shouted, jerking under your teeth. But he didn't let you go. Just yanked your wrists behind your back, securing them with one hand before using his free hand to get a grip on your hair and yank.

"Feisty, huh?" His grin showed far too many teeth. Even for a human that was a clear threat. "'S alright, sweet pea. I've got time. I'll have you singing before long."

You whined when he tugged your hair again, forcing your head back, exposing your throat. He held you easily, not even breaking a sweat as he kept you contained.

You'd miscalculated. Badly.

The room he escorted you to was plain and not comfortable. Little more than a concrete box with a cot bolted down, the room lacked any warmth.

"I'll give you some time to think about your answers," he told you before he pushed you into the room. You stumbled, off balance from the shove, and the door slammed shut.

The lock clicked, loud and ominous in the room.

You had really, really miscalculated.

–

Graves walked back to his room before checking the bite, which was already blooming color on his skin. "Fuck," he muttered, half impressed and a little turned on. "Helluva bite." He sucked his teeth, fingers rising to press gently to his skin. The little bloom of pain made him groan softly, arousal rising. Damn but he liked that.

He wanted to tame this one.

"Damn, sweet pea," he muttered, pressing down again, ignoring the blood rushing down to his cock. For now. "Damn."

–

You were brought food regularly, so at least they weren't starving you. That would be bad, on top of your injury.

And the asshole came back at least once a day to ask you the same questions. What happened to you? Where had you been? How did you end up out here? Who hurt you?

You, at least, stuck to your line. You didn't know. That was all he was getting out of you. Nothing else.

You didn't try to bite him again. At least, not for the first few days.

Then he got mean.

"Y'know, sweet pea, I could make this so much nicer for you," he murmured. "Or so much worse. I've been generous, you know."

"You call this generous?" You curled your upper lip, hands curling into loose fists.

"Coulda left you to my boys." His smirk was downright nasty now, eyes glinting with mean amusement. "I'm sure they'd appreciate you."

You stiffened, a low growl rumbling in your chest. Excitement sparked through his scent and his lips stretched wider. "Don't you fucking dare."

"Then gimme what I want," he purred, leaning closer. "Or a good reason not to."

You lunged. He was prepared this time, though you still got your teeth in his shoulder before he grabbed you and twisted. You yipped, startled, as he manhandled you face-down on the cot, pressed up tight to your back to keep you down.

The hardness pressing into your ass made you jerk.

"Told you," he growled into your ear, breath hot against your skin. "Give me a good reason not to."

"Fuck off," you snarled, trying to buck him off, ignoring the hardness of him.

"Rather fuck you." His teeth were sharp on your ear.

You snarled, deep and rumbly, squirming under him. But you couldn't deny the thrill of arousal at how he held you down. He was strong. Very strong.

"Fuck," he muttered, pressing his hips harder into yours. "Better hold still, sweet pea, unless you think you can take me."

"I dunno, you think you can handle me?" You couldn't resist taunting him, baring your teeth.

He huffed a little laugh and shoved one knee between your legs, leaning his weight onto you. "Oh I can handle you, sweet pea." He shifted, biting down on the back of your shoulder. You moaned, almost startled at how much you liked that, how good it felt. "Yeah? Pretty girl likes it a bit rough?"

"You all mouth?" You shot back, managing to free one hand. You reached back to claw at him, not sure if you wanted him closer or wanted him off of you.

He swore softly when your nails caught skin under the sleeve of his shirt, dragging down. "Feisty pretty girl," he growled. He grabbed your wrist again and shoved it back down to the bed, pushing you harder into the mattress, his chest to your back. One hand let up, but he compensated, keeping you trapped under him. "Guess you don't wanna get fucked tonight." His free hand slid slowly down your side to your hip, and he pulled you back and down onto his thigh.

You gasped at the feel of his thigh firm between your legs, fanning your arousal. You squirmed, hands twisting, tilting your face to the side. "Mm, feels like you're all teasing and no follow through."

"Good girls ask nicely." He lifted his hips away from yours, using his grip on you to push you further into the bed, away from the warmth of him.

You snarled into the bedding, twisting harder. But he didn't budge, didn't give you an inch. He was absolutely infuriating.

But he was also possibly going to fuck you, and you possibly wanted him to.

"I don't do nice." You kicked out with one leg, and he grunted as you pushed him off balance enough to have him crashing back into you. You could admit to yourself that though he was an ass, you wanted more.

"You will, sweet pea," he grunted, fingers tightening around you. "You'll beg me for it." He rocked his hips into yours and you arched, no longer trying to get him away or get him off. No. Now you wanted more.

When he pulled back again, your lips parted in a snarl, and you almost asked what he was doing.

Except you felt fingers at your back, pushing the shirt they'd given you up until it bunched under your arms. His fingers were warm and a little rough as they slid along the path of your injury, just to the side so he didn't actually hurt you. The nurse had insisted on leaving the bandages for another day, although you didn't really need them - you healed faster than a human.

"One day you'll tell me," he murmured, low and promising. "And I'll be here for all your secrets."

A shudder ran down your spine and you squirmed. "Keep it up and I'll think you're actually interested in me," you quipped. You needed his attention off your back, needed him to leave it alone.

"Oh but I am," he purred, lowering himself again so you could feel the press of his shirt against your back, the flat plane of his stomach leaving you nowhere to go. "You're just too temptin', sweet pea. I can't resist."

You sucked in a breath when he bit down on the back of your shoulder again, a little gentler this time. But the feeling of teeth in your skin, even with the shirt in the way, only made you want more. You bucked into him, struggling, a low whine escaping without permission.

"Sound so sweet like that," he murmured, too pleased with himself. "Let's see what other pretty noises you can make for me."

"Arrogant," you shot back, wiggling your ass back against the bulge of him.

"Confident," he corrected, grinding into you. "Now, you gonna be a good girl if I let go?"

"Define good." You grinned into the sheets, hiking one knee up to get leverage to push back into him. He only pressed you harder into the cot, pulling a groan out of you.

"Guess that's a no," he huffed, nosing the side of your neck. "Shame. I'd love to take my time with a pretty thing like you."

"Sure know how to make a girl feel special." You squirmed again, trying again to free your hands.

"Baby, I'll make you feel so good," he promised, low and crooning. You shuddered hard, twisting one hand free and reaching back to pull his head closer, fingers scratching through his hair. He huffed against your neck, warm and damp. "Still gotta ask for it."

You gritted your teeth, digging your nails into the back of his neck. "Make me."

He groaned softly, pressing his bulge harder into you. He was a flurry of movement, pushing your shirt up over your head but leaving it tangled around your arms. "Such a little brat," he growled, teasing. "I can fix that."

"Such an ass," you gasped as he yanked your sweatpants down, leaving them pooled on one ankle.

"All you gotta do is ask, baby," he murmured, hand smoothing over your ask. "I'll fuck you real good if you ask."

"Not on your life." You whined softly when his hand dipped down between your legs, teasing, testing.

"Oh yeah?" He huffed an amused noise. "We'll see about that, sweet pea." One big finger slid into you and you gasped, legs shifting further apart to give him more room. "Knew you liked this," he muttered victoriously, his finger making a lewd noise as he moved it. "Fuckin' knew it."

You opened your mouth to snipe back at him and ended up moaning instead at the stretch of a second finger. “Fucking tease,” you managed, tilting your hips to allow him deeper.

He huffed. “Already told you what you have to do,” he murmured, pumping his fingers faster. The coil of pleasure in your belly grew tighter, and you rocked your hips back into his fingers. Not yet willing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you. But the scent of his arousal, his clear enjoyment of this, was near dizzying.

You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood as you got close, eyes shuttered, determined not to give him satisfaction while getting your own.

And his fingers slipped out of you.

“What–?” You started to demand, pushing hard against him.

“Told you,” he said, amused now, even as you heard his belt buckle clink. “Gotta ask, baby.” He nipped the shell of your ear and then groaned softly. There was a soft, wet noise.

Your eyes blew wide and you froze. He was stroking himself, slow and rhythmic, his knuckles just brushing your ass. He was just going to leave you like this.

Unless you asked.

You clenched your jaw for a moment before you gave in with a little whimper, tilting your hips and ducking your head down against the cot. “Please,” you murmured.

“What was that, sweet pea?” He sounded unbearably smug, even as he brushed his knuckles over your skin a little more firmly.

“Please,” you repeated, pressing your forehead into the cot. The smell of him was intoxicating and a little addicting and utterly ruining your composure.

He hummed, teasing, and the noise stopped. Still-damp fingers pressed to your ass and then curled around your hip, guiding you into a better position. “Please what?”

You growled a little, debating kicking him off and taking care of yourself. But damn he’d gotten you riled up, and now you wanted him. “Please fuck me,” you ground out, tone far from pleading.

But that must have been good enough for him. “Good girl,” he cooed, condescending and overly-sweet. You fought down the urge to bite him again, mostly because you could feel him beginning to press into you.

He did not go slow, and he was not gentle. Which was fine - you didn’t want gentle. You didn’t want slow. You wanted him to fuck you hard enough that you saw stars.

He was relentless, searching for your g-spot and then hitting it as often as possible. He released your hands to fist your hair, tugging your head to the side so he could kiss and nip at your neck. His groans vibrated against your skin, making you whimper.

“Yeah? Feel good?” He nipped sharply at your skin and soothed the spot with his tongue. “Tell me, sweet pea.”

You resisted. For a moment. “Feels good,” you agreed with a gasp, getting one hand behind you to scratch through his hair, keeping him exactly where he was. “More.”

“More what?” The words were growled into your skin, his grip tightening on your hip until you thought you’d have bruises.

“Need more,” you gasped, bucking your hips back into his. “Please.”

“Knew you could be so good for me,” he crooned, far too pleased. But he did move his hand to rub your clit, not giving you a chance to mouth off to him again.

“Fuck!” Your fingers scrabbled at the sheets and fisted in them, shaking a little.

“Good girl,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear now. “Come on, baby. Come for me. Come on, come on, baby.”

Later, you’d be humiliated, but you did. You came with a shout, body tensing under his, hand in his hair clawing down the back of his neck. He hissed, shuddering hard against you, and roughly pumped into you a few more times before he spilled in you.

“That’s it,” he murmured, almost dazed sounding. “Fuck you feel good.” He ground against you, probably just to hear you whine.

He didn’t quite collapse on you, but it was close. Fortunately, you got to just melt into the cot, breathing hard.

“Have fun, sweet pea?” He slid out of you smoothly and stood, fixing his clothing. You kind of hated him for that, even as you turned your head to glower at him over your shoulder.

“Still an asshole,” you grumbled, stretching out. You needed to move, to wipe yourself off. But you couldn’t resist the moment of tormenting him with the sight of you on display.

He chuckled, undeterred. “Better rest up, sweet pea,” he advised, smirk clear in his tone. “I’ll be back later.”

The door locked behind him as always.

Fine. You’d just bide your time. Someone would slip up eventually.

It took another week. A week of acting more compliant, of not trying anything. Graves didn’t come back for that entire week, either. Why, you didn’t know, but you weren’t going to ask.

Finally, the soldier that brought you food forgot to lock the door.

You waited until you couldn’t hear him anymore before you crept to the door, cracking it open just the tiniest bit. Nothing. No sound near you.

You had to sternly remind yourself not to just go tearing off, you had to do this smart. So you snuck out of your room, shutting the door again. Hopefully that would keep them from looking.

Getting out of there was perhaps one of the most stressful things you’d ever done. You listened hard for people, and once had to duck into a cleaning closet to avoid a couple chatting soldiers. Your heart pounded against your ribs the entire time, so loud you had to focus to hear past the blood rushing through you.

But you did it. You made it outside. The sun was setting, the land open around the base. You’d blend better if you shifted, and you’d be faster.

A quick look around showed you were the only one in sight. Moving fast, you nearly threw your clothes off and shifted, landing on four paws.

This was so much better.

You left the clothes where they fell and started trotting off, away from base. You were more careful this time, darting between bushes and generally being stealthy.

So when something tackled you from the side, you yelped, totally caught off guard. You struggled until a firm hand grabbed your scruff, holding tight and lifting you a little. You whined and went still.

“Well, well, well,” Graves murmured, smirking down at you. “I’ll be damned.”

You lifted your upper lip to growl at him, hoping he’d take the hint and back off. Instead, he fearlessly wrapped his free hand around your muzzle.

“You’ve already bitten me before, sweet pea,” he said, looking over you again, awed and not at all scared. “Not gonna let you with bigger teeth.”

You stared at him, fear a cold wash down your spine. You realized with perfect clarity in that moment that not only had he put together exactly what you were, but he was never going to let you go.

Graves carried you back to your room, shutting the door behind the two of you before he released you. You skittered away, putting some distance between the two of you. “Go on, sweet pea. Show me.”

You were momentarily confused, ears twitching as you looked at him. But he didn’t move, didn’t step away.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he teased, smirking like the bastard he was. “Already seen all of you before.”

Understanding dawned, and you briefly pinned your ears back. But if there was one thing you knew about Graves, you knew that he was stubborn.

So you shifted back.

“There you are.” He grinned, wide and satisfied and distinctly smug. “Quite a trick you got there, sweet pea.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, glowering at him. “Why did you grab me again?”

“Can’t let such a fascinating little thing run off now can I?” He finally took a step closer to you, gaze fixed on your face.

You clenched your jaw. “Sure you can, it’s easy.”

He chuckled, taking another step closer, until he was just outside your space. “Oh sweet pea, told you I’d be here for all your secrets, and I meant it.”

You swallowed, not sure how to react to that. He held all the power here, and you both knew it. But you didn’t want to yield, didn’t want to bare your neck to him. So you bared your teeth instead.

“Mm, that too,” he purred, not at all deterred. On the contrary, he reached for you with one hand, licking his lips.

You took a step back, eyeing him. “Do I get any say in this?”

“I’m not a monster,” he told you amicably, allowing you some space.

“No. You’ll just keep me here.”

He shrugged. “You know too much,” he said easily. “And knowing what you are? I’d be a fool not to use all advantages I can get, and I ain’t a fool.”

You puffed out a breath. “I think you overestimate how much I know.”

He smirked. “Perhaps.” He took a step back finally. “Tell you what, sweet pea. You behave and I’ll get you a nicer room to stay in.” He didn’t give you a chance to answer (or object), just turned and left, locking the door again.

You groaned softly and fell back on the cot. Well. Fuck. That had gone the opposite of how you’d wanted. Now not only were you stuck here, but Graves knew what you were.

Hopefully he wouldn’t try to do anything awful.

Graves visited you every day for the next several days. He never asked for anything. Just seemed to be enjoying the power he held over you. Sometimes the visits were short, mere minutes, more check ins than anything else. Sometimes he’d stay for longer, chatting, slowly getting to know you.

As you were getting to know him.

You didn’t pretend to understand his interest in you, but you didn’t exactly discourage him, either. You only snapped playfully at him. You didn’t try to kill him. You also didn’t spend more than a day or two feeling sorry for yourself and being sullen and mopey.

Coyotes were adaptable creatures. It’s how they’d become one of the most successful predators in North America.

So you adapted.

“Brought you a little somethin’.” Graves was in a particularly good mood tonight, eyes bright, smirk firmly in place.

“Oh?” You didn’t even bother to get up, staying seated with your back to the wall, book still in your lap. (He’d finally caved the fourth time you’d threatened to die of boredom.)

He crouched in front of you, holding out a bracelet. It was simple metal beads, though just from looking at it you guessed not all of them were so simple. He looked far too smug, putting you a little on edge.

“This has got a tracker in it,” he told you, letting it dangle from one finger, swinging gently and catching the light. “And a couple little surprises. Gimme your wrist.”

You huffed softly but held out one arm for him, watching him fasten it on you. “And what stops me from just taking it off?”

“One of the surprises.” He smirked, thumb rubbing the soft underside of your wrist, pressing briefly against your pulse. “You can test it, but I wouldn’t recommend it, sweet pea.”

Curiosity warred with caution, and caution won. You puffed out a breath. “Alright, so you can, presumably, track all the time I spend sitting here reading. Wow. Fascinating.”

He just grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that was absolutely not endearing. At all. Not even a little. “Well, I was thinking you could come on a walk with me.”

“Seriously? Not yanking my chain?” You raised both eyebrows at him.

“Seriously.” He stood straight again, using his hold on you to tug you up with him. “C’mon. Lemme show you around properly.”

Curiosity won out over caution, this time. You followed him.

The base was larger than you’d initially guessed. Graves kept you close to his side as the two of you walked, which didn’t stop you from looking around. Several of his men saw the two of you, but none of them approached. Hm. Fine with you.

Graves probably enjoyed showing off the base a little too much, although you realized he was also showing you off with a hand on your lower back. Conniving man.

You could respect that. Especially if he was less of an ass.

“Wanna go explore?”

You side-eyed him at the offer, and especially at the grin he shot your way. “Eager to see if your little gift works as promised?” you drawled.

“Nah. You’re not a fool.” His eyes gleamed as he watched you.

You huffed softly, amused despite yourself. “Well, you’re not wrong.” Not giving him a chance to retort, you walked away. You heard his chuckle behind you, but he didn’t follow.

Exploring by yourself was… interesting. But not in the way you expected. The men looked at you, yes, but none of them approached you. One or two even stepped out of your way.

Very interesting. They were not exactly a pack, humans didn’t work that way, but they clearly had their own pecking order.

You made your way towards the fence, looking up at the guard posts. Considering the way the land stretched out flat before you for miles, the base sticking up like a sore thumb, you were both surprised and not. Only one actual road in and out of this place, and you didn’t bother going towards that gate.

Instead you started towards the nearest guard post, determined to get up the ladder and see the view.

“Uh, ma’am, you can’t go up there.”

You looked at the young man in front of you - not as tall as Graves, definitely younger, a little uncertain. Adorable. He looked more like a pup than a man.

“Graves told me to explore,” you drawled, dry as dust. “I’m exploring.”

“You still can’t go up there.” He pulled back his shoulders, trying to intimidate you. Aw. Cute. His radio crackled, and very faintly you could hear Graves on the other end. Just his voice, not what he said. But the soldier nodded once and stepped aside. “He said it’s okay.”

“Thanks.” You kept your tone dry and purposefully made noise going up the ladder. The guard on duty glanced at you but didn’t say a word, allowing you to take your fill of the view.

This area had been your home for a long time. Sure, not here exactly, but, well… You’d been wanting to expand your territory anyway, hadn’t you? This wasn’t a bad expansion. Especially if you could convince Graves to let you go hunting properly.

You could come to see this as home. In time.

Coyotes were adaptable. This would not break you.

Graves’ hand at your back didn’t even startle you this time. You’d heard him coming, after all.

You’d ask him about hunting some other time. No need to push too fast, after all.

You had time to win him over.

–

Graves was pleased - the tracker worked exactly as it should. And you behaved perfectly, exploring, poking your nose places. All without even trying to leave.

He’d gentle you to him yet.

Eventually, he’d be able to move you into his room. But not yet.

For now, he contented himself with dinner with you, watching your barely restrained curiosity. He didn’t quite chuckle to see that curiosity mirrored in his men, but it was a close call.

"Enjoying, sweet pea?"

You scoffed softly. "Yes, well, meals in my room were rather dull." Your teeth flashed in a grin.

He chuckled. “Don’t have to do that anymore,” he offered, watching you. “Long as you behave.”

You tipped your head, and he could see the predatory gleam in your eyes. But you nodded once.

He’d definitely be keeping an eye on you. Not that he minded - you were a pretty little thing, after all.

Maybe he’d get his hands on you after dinner.

–

Days passed faster now that you were no longer confined to your room. Graves let you have free roam of the compound - nothing was off limits to you.

Which is how you stumbled upon a training exercise.

Graves beckoned you to join him without looking away, arms crossed loosely over his chest as he watched two teams with paintball guns attempting to get each other out.

"Training?" You guessed, stopping next to him, observing the game closely.

"Mmhm." He didn't look at you but his hand settled just above your ass, thumb stroking gently. "Paintballs only."

You nodded. "Just trying to tag each other out?"

"Timed game," Graves told you with a flicker of a grin. "Team with most people left standing when the timer goes off wins. My boys are competitive."

You hummed acknowledgement, watching them dart around. It looked like this entire section of compound was open - the terrain and buildings were all being used in the game.

When the timer went off, Graves took you with him to see who had won. You only half paid attention, admittedly, busy examining the ones who'd been counted as out.

"Looks like somethin's on your mind, sweet pea." Graves smirked down at you.

"Let me play."

He blinked. That was clearly not what he'd expected you to say. "What?"

"Let me play." You bounced a little on your toes. "It looks like fun."

Graves blinked, giving you a quick once-over over. You were smaller than most of his men, and untrained. But he knew your secret. "Alright, but don't cry when you get out first."

You grinned, showing far too many teeth. "No tears," you promised, low and silky.

It took no time to get outfitted with a vest and a paintball gun. Graves even graciously gave you a one minute head start.

You darted away, finding a good hiding spot. Your aim was not the best, and you usually did your hunting with your teeth, but you'd make do.

A timer went off, signaling the rest of the teams were being released onto the playing field. Graves hadn't actually told you which team you were on…

Guess that meant everyone was fair game.

Your teeth showed in a grin as anticipation raced through your veins. Finally. A hunt.

The first pair you spotted were clearly on the same team and patrolling together. You waited until they passed and got both of them in the back. (One shot went totally wild, but you elected to ignore that.)

They both looked surprised to see who had shot them but moved off the playing field.

After that, you slunk away to another good hiding spot. This time you managed to get four - another patrol of two, then a single man a few minutes later, and another single man passing close enough for you to get him.

Your smaller stature served you well, letting you get into smaller spaces than they could. And you knew how to hunt, to wait, to be still and focused.

By the time you'd gotten your tenth "kill", your heart was thrumming, easy confidence in your eyes.

But you paused when a PA system flicked on with a crackle.

"Change of plans, boys," Graves called. "First man to take her down gets a prize."

Fuck! That wasn't the game! But you had to admit… the change thrilled you.

Teeth showing in a grin again, you abandoned your current spot to climb. You needed to get up higher to see what you were up against.

Roughly ten men remained, some having been knocked out by other teams. You could briefly see them as they split up.

Good. Make this a real challenge.

But you had one advantage they didn't. You could hear them coming.

That was your only saving grace as one tried to corner you. You could hear him coming, and escaped around a corner before climbing to get away.

He swore extensively when you managed to shoot him.

Two of them got smart and tried to flush you towards a third. It might have worked, except that you spotted him up ahead, and threw yourself through a bush to get away.

Unfortunately, that only worked until one of them got physical, tackling you to the ground. Your yelp was more surprise than pain, and you had to resist the urge to bite him.

Graves would not be pleased if you made his men bleed.

"Caught, sir." The man who'd tackled you hauled you to your feet, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You were no misbehaving pup to scruff!

Graves sauntered up to the two of you, smirking. "Well, well, well," he hummed. "You did better than I expected."

You smirked right back at him. "Next time, you will not be so surprised."

He laughed once, short and amused. "True," he agreed. "Now, for your reward."

The man released you and you turned to see who was left. Only eight. (Either you'd miscounted or there had been a bit of foul play among the remaining players.) You memorized their faces.

You'd take them out first next time.

You didn't bother to pay attention until Graves had a hand at your back, guiding you forward again. The training seemed to be over, as most everyone was putting away their gear.

Graves didn't lead you back to put away your gear, though. He handed off the paintball gun to one of his men and pushed you back towards your room.

Fully aware of what you were starting, you bit him for being pushy, growling low in your throat. He just swore, hands clenching around you, and bit you back.

Honestly, you were a little amazed the two of you made it back to your room before the clothes came off.

–

Graves had never expected you to do so well at paintball, but you did. You were light and fast, hard to hit when you were on the run, and clever. Not trained, but clever.

He threw you in the paintball games as often as he could, now, just for the joy of watching you.

And the fun afterwards.

Finally, though, they got called out. He debated bringing you with, but… there was no easy way to explain your presence, and he wouldn't risk your life.

You'd just have to stay and be good.

You took the news better than expected, honestly. Only a little growling and biting. (And Graves really, really didn't mind the biting.)

But then you did something very unexpected.

You saw him off.

You stopped in front of the group, eyeing them all. Graves noted with amusement how they all straightened - you'd gained a lot of respect by joining in training.

"I expect I'll see you all again soon." The look you leveled at all of them made it clear that was an order, not a suggestion.

The various noises of assent just made Graves hide his grin.

You nodded once and looked at him, one eyebrow raised. But you did lower your voice, at least. "Bring me back something sweet." You winked and walked away.

From this angle, it was easy to see that you were a predator, stalking through his base as confidently as if it were your own.

Graves tried hard not to think about that too much, because if he did, he'd have to haul you back and fuck you on the plane.

–

You kept yourself busy while Graves was gone. There were still people on base, so you weren’t alone. You thought briefly about going hunting, but you didn’t want to distract Graves at a potentially vital moment.

So, you kept yourself entertained by poking your nose into every nook and cranny you could find.

That lasted you a few days. Watching several movies lasted you a few more. And finally, just when you thought you’d risk giving Graves a heart attack just to go for a proper run, they returned.

You did not rush them as they all disembarked the plane, standing back with your arms crossed over your chest. Some of them were injured as they got off the plane, but they were all back. You counted. Twice.

And then there was Graves, directing his men, making sure everything got done. You met his gaze across the distance and couldn’t help but smile, just a little.

There was no sense of challenge in meeting his gaze. No fear. Just the visual confirmation that this asshole hadn’t gotten himself killed.

He finished up quickly and made his way over to you, swagger uninterrupted, gaze fixed on you.

He surprised you, though, grabbing your hand instead of your wrist to tow you back to his room. His, not yours. Not that he gave you time to look at much before he was kissing you like he was affirming he was alive.

It wasn’t until much later, after you both lay sated and warm, that he grunted like he’d just remembered something.

“Brought you back something,” he murmured, moving away from you and ignoring your displeased huff. Not bothering to put any clothes on yet (something you very much agreed with), he stepped over to his duffel bag and bent over to grab a box. He smirked at you over his shoulder. “Close your eyes.”

“What?” You blinked at him, caught off guard.

“You heard me, sweet pea.”

You rolled your eyes pointedly and then closed them. This was silly. But you were willing to play along, for now.

To your surprise, you heard the box open, heard Graves step closer. “Smell,” he ordered softly.

You sniffed, head tipping in curiosity. You could smell the sugar, absolutely, and something floral. You huffed softly, amused at the little game.

“Sugared flowers?” you guessed without opening your eyes, leaning a little closer.

Graves chuckled softly, and the box rustled as he did something. “Open,” he murmured.

You briefly made a face but you did as he asked. He put a single piece on your tongue, fingers brushing your skin as he retreated. The flavor was more intense than the smell, and you hummed in satisfaction, eyes fluttering open again. Graves licked his lips, watching you as he pulled another piece of sugared flower from the box. This time, you accepted it and sucked on his fingers, swiping your tongue over the tips to get every last bit of sugar from his skin. The scent of his arousal quickly overpowered the florals, and the box dropped to the pillow next to you.

Somehow you both missed dinner.

–

Graves had been considering how to tell his men about his coyote. Oh, sure, they all knew that you were his, but they didn’t know you were a shifter. And that could become dangerous, if he didn’t tell them. In case of emergency.

(The fact that he wanted to tell them had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he wanted to show you off more. Not at all.)

His timeline got pushed when you let yourself into his office, near bouncing on your toes.

“I’m going hunting,” you said before he could ask.

Graves leaned back slowly, giving you a thorough once-over. “Need to borrow some gear?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes, clearly exasperated. “No. I’m going hunting.” You showed your teeth to emphasize your point.

Ah. That kind of hunting. “Alright,” he agreed slowly. He knew you still had the tracking bracelet on, and he had to admit some curiosity to see how well it held up after you shifted. “I’ll make sure nobody shoots at you.”

“Again,” you drawled.

Graves didn’t feel bad about that, because nobody had known about shifters at that point. Besides, it was hard to feel bad about the thing that had brought you to him. But he would make damn sure you weren’t injured under his watch. “You shifting here or out there?”

“Here,” you answered after a moment. “Easier to not deal with clothes.”

Graves nodded again, still watching you. “Good hunting, then, sweet pea.”

Your teeth flashed again as you grinned. “I’ll bring you back something good.” And you were gone, bouncing back out of his office before he had a chance to properly respond to your words.

You’d promised to bring him something back.

This was something new, and Graves was going to find out what that was about.

His boys didn’t take the news about you being a shifter quietly, but they took it. He could see they didn’t believe him yet, but they would.

And they all knew he was a man of his word. So they knew he was not exaggerating when he threatened to kill anyone who breathed a word of this to anyone else.

But Graves trusted his boys. He trusted they wouldn’t betray him. Or you, by extension.

The day was mostly gone by the time he heard the commotion. The call to open the gate came first, then a chorus of whistling and clapping. That was enough to pull him outside to see what the commotion was all about.

A coyote was dragging a whole ass white tail deer into the compound, jaw clamped tight around its throat. Graves felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise - the deer was considerably bigger than the coyote, but the coyote didn’t even slow down.

Until you stopped in front of him, depositing your trophy and looking up at him.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. Both the deer and you. “Dragged it back by yourself?”

You huffed at him, briefly showing your teeth.

“Course you did,” Graves chuckled, crouching in front of you. He debated for a moment before he held out one hand. It took only a moment before you shoved your head under his hand, and he stroked your fur, silently thrilled. His coyote. “Gonna let one of my guys fix it up?”

You stepped back and lifted your lip in a silent warning.

Graves chuckled, holding his hands up in a pacifying manner. “Alright, sweet pea. You just let me know what you need, then, and I’ll let you handle it.”

Mollified, you grabbed the deer again and started dragging it away from the buildings, which he appreciated. He watched you maneuver your kill around without assistance, admiring your strength and determination. His men all kept out of the way, though he did hear a few compliment you on your kill.

This was something he could get used to.

–

You honestly hadn’t realized how much you missed shifting until you could, anywhere you wanted. The men got used to you quickly, opening the gate for you to come and go as you pleased. An unofficial new game had popped up - try to pet the coyote. You took great joy in evading their hands and occasional playful tackles. Honestly, it was fun.

You didn’t expect to be approached by one of the men on his own while you were sitting outside. You blinked at him, head tipping to one side.

“Do you have a moment?” He shuffled his feet a little, scent caught between shame and embarrassment.

“Have a seat.” You turned a little to face him fully, on high alert now.

He sat next to you, giving you a moment to find his name patch. Roberts. His sandy hair was nearly the same color as Graves’, though he was shorter and leaner. Roberts sighed softly before he looked at you, meeting your gaze. “I wanted to apologize.”

You blinked, caught totally by surprise. “For?”

“I shot you.” He made a vague motion towards your back. “I mean, I didn’t know it was you, I just shot at a coyote. But still.”

You shook your head with a little smile. “Don’t fuss over it,” you advised. “It’s long in the past now, and I healed.”

He frowned at you, disapproving. “Anyway, a few of us were out last week, and, well…” He rolled up his sleeve to show off a still healing tattoo. A coyote in front of the Shadows symbol.

He had simultaneously claimed you as pack, and put himself under you. And he’d sort of spoken for the rest of the Shadows, too.

At least, your coyote brain was trying to convince you that you now had the biggest pack ever to protect and provide for.

You grabbed him, pulling him into a hug and rubbing your cheek over the top of his head. He held himself stiff for a few long moments before he awkwardly patted your back, looking absolutely bewildered when you pulled back.

“Thank you,” you murmured, breathing in deep. “That’s… it means more than you know.”

He smiled tentatively and nodded. “Sure,” he mumbled. “So, not mad at me?”

You huffed a little laugh. “Not at all.” You shook your head, gaze drifting down to the tattoo again. “May I?”

He held his arm out for inspection, and you looked over the line work and the details of it. That was definitely a coyote, and definitely the insignia of the group.

Well. Your pack had just grown. Quite a bit.

“I love it.” You sat back and smiled.

He puffed up a little, clearly proud of himself. “Did the line art myself.”

“Good to know.” You smiled slowly. “I might ask you to do something for me at some point, then.”

“Would be my pleasure.” He puffed up even more, resembling a fluffy rooster. “Anyway. Just wanted to show you that.”

“Appreciated.” You nodded to him and watched him go, still puffed up with pride. You, on the other hand, were wrestling with your instincts to provide for your pack.

Dammit. Fine. You’d make a couple loaves of bread, that would satisfy the itch for now.

The bread was a huge success. As were the next four loaves. (Graves grumbled about sending a few men for supplies, because apparently the demand for fresh bread was quite high.)

You didn’t expect to see more of the tattoos. But you did.

Over the next two weeks, nearly a dozen of them approached you, usually individually, to show off their own tats. Most of them got the tat on a forearm, but one got his on his back, and one got it on his calf. You couldn’t help it - you hugged every one of them.

You never would have predicted this would happen when you’d been shot those months ago.

“You’re not tired of that damn thing yet?” Graves asked, clearly grumbling, after the most recent soldier had jogged off again.

“The tat?” You grinned, looking back down at your bread dough. “Nah. I like it. Might get one for myself.”

Graves grumbled wordlessly, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your middle, teeth digging into the back of your shoulder through your shirt. “Won’t find one on me.”

“No?” Your breath hitched at the brief pain of his bite. This had become a habit between the two of you. “Too bad. I was thinking of offering an exchange.”

“Exchange?” His head peeked up over your shoulder. “Of what?”

You hid your smile, amused. “Marks,” you said blandly. “Thought you might like the idea of me wearing something of yours on my skin.”

The quickly-stifled groan against the skin of your neck proved you right, and your smile turned victorious. “Not that,” he mumbled, lips moving against your skin, making you shiver. “Something unique.”

You hummed softly, poking the dough one more time before tossing a towel over it to let it rise. “Well…” You trailed off, taunting, leaving the bait for him to take or ignore.

He, of course, took the bait. “Well?”

“Family tradition is a bite,” you mused, pushing your hips back into his. “But I don’t think that will work here. Don’t think you want a big scar.” You smirked teasingly back at him.

“Could just get it tattooed,” he pointed out, hands settling on your hips, pulling you back into him.

“Get a tattoo of your teeth marks?” You could feel the way he responded to that, an involuntary little jerk of his hips. “I could wear that, easy.”

“Yeah? Wanna show off that you’re mine?” Graves tightened his grip on you, scraping his teeth lightly on the skin behind your ear.

“More like have a permanent reminder,” you mumbled, tipping your head. “Pack already knows I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

He bit down on the back of your neck with a groan, hands nearly fumbling as he rucked your clothes up and out of the way to get at your skin.

It took only a few days to make the arrangements for your corresponding marks.

–

Graves normally didn't mind Shepherd. He was a demanding ass sometimes, but overall not bad.

Until right this very moment.

"Didn't catch that, sir," Graves ground out, working hard to keep his temper. He didn't want to go flying off the handle, not now.

"Don't play coy with me, son," Shepherd said, firm and a little condescending. "I know you've got a shifter there."

"Don't know what you mean." Graves dug the nails on his free hand into his skin, the pain helping ground him and keep him from doing something monumentally stupid.

"No? Then the coyote shifter isn't yours? She's a pretty thing, figured she's your type." The smirk in the general's voice was clear.

Graves didn't respond, torn between demanding to know how Shepherd knew about her, and denying her existence.

"I'll have a couple of my men there in a few days to bring her in."

"Bring her in?" Graves repeated, sharp and serious.

"I'm taking her. She could be a valuable asset to me."

Graves hit his limit. That? Was unacceptable. "No, sir."

Shepherd paused for a moment. "No?"

"No. She stays here." Graves knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he handed you over to Shepherd, you’d never be seen again. The general was a merciless man. He’d break you, or dissect you. Or possibly both. And that was something Graves found he couldn’t live with.

Shepherd let the silence grow between them before he snorted softly. "You sure you wanna do this?" He asked, soft and threatening.

“I am.” Graves clenched his jaw. He was willing to let a lot of shit slide, hell, he’d done a lot of shit himself. But this? No. He’d never admit it aloud, but he was too attached to you.

He’d never hand you over to anyone. But especially not Shepherd.

“This won’t end well for you,” Shepherd promised. And hung up, not giving Graves a chance to respond.

Graves breathed out slowly, putting his phone down. He knew Shepherd, knew the general wouldn’t give up so easily.

This would come down to a fight. One he was determined not to lose.

Graves started planning.

–

When Graves first insisted you learn how to use a gun, you rolled your eyes. Why did you need a gun? You had teeth. But he didn’t let up, going so far as to ask while balls deep inside of you, holding you still under his weight and refusing to move until you gave in. That earned him a few days of nasty looks.

But you did learn.

The worst part about it for you was the noise. Even with the headset to muffle the sound, it was jarring and took some getting used to.

You noticed the changes on base slowly. The guards seemed more alert, constantly watching the horizon. One of the Shadows was always nearby, though they always made it seem coincidental. Graves held you tighter at night (he’d moved you into his room shortly after you both got tattooed).

But any time you tried to ask, Graves evaded. Stricter training. Upcoming op. Refreshing their skills. All were excuses he tried.

You didn’t quite believe any of them.

But he clearly didn’t want you to know, so you didn’t push. You just grew restless, often walking the perimeter of base.

He was keeping something from you and you wanted to know what.

None of the Shadows would tell you. Apparently Graves had given them orders not to, because when you cornered one younger man he outright panicked, gaze darting all over the place, hands shaking. You left him with a snarl of discontent, stalking away.

Not that you had to wait long, after all.

A shout went up from one of the guards that night, well after dark. You could hear radios going off around base too, just caught a few words: vehicles, armed, Shepherd.

You had very little idea what it meant, but the way the rec room emptied hinted that it was nothing good.

“Come with me,” Graves demanded, hand fastening around your wrist.

“What–?” You didn’t get a chance to finish your question as he pulled you along with him. He got a vest on you first, then handed you the rifle you’d been practicing with and ammo.

“Stay with me, sweet pea,” he ordered. And it was very clearly an order. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, confused but rapidly realizing how serious this was.

Graves got his own gear on with practiced motions, clicking his comm. “How far out?” he asked briskly. You could just hear the voice on the other end, but not the words. “Copy.” Graves started moving, and you stuck close to him.

Outside the building was nearly unrecognizable. Shadows were running around prepping, putting up barriers and hides. Graves strode through the organized chaos, right up to the gate.

You could see vehicles approaching, four of them. The rumble of engines grew steadily louder, though the gates remained closed.

The vehicles stopped, people piling out of them, guns down for the moment. You didn’t recognize any of them. Not that that was truly a surprise - you knew few humans.

“Graves,” one of them called in the kind of tone of one used to being obeyed. “Last chance to hand her over.”

Graves clenched his jaw and didn’t look back at you, though you realized with sudden startling clarity that this was all about you. Because somehow that man out there knew you were a shifter.

And Graves had apparently refused to hand you over.

It was an interesting feeling, warmth suffusing you from Graves’s actions while dread tried to remind you of how very bad this could be.

“Not a chance, Shepherd,” Graves called back. He nudged you back just a little, hands gripping his gun securely.

“I’m sorry it came to this. If you hadn’t been such a fool…” Shepherd trailed off.

You only had a moment to wonder what he meant before the shooting started. You ducked back behind cover, Graves right behind you.

“I want them all dead,” Graves said into his comm, eyes utterly cold. You realized with a start you hadn’t seen him like this since the very beginning of your stay here. “Let’s get it done.”

You were not ashamed to admit that you were not much help. You didn’t have the experience of these men, and this was not a fun game of paintballs. Besides, your movements were restricted to keeping with Graves.

But you did surprise yourself when you spotted one attempting to flank around the barriers, and you shot him. He fell silently.

For a bare moment, you wondered if you should feel bad. Not that you did - you’d killed your fair share of prey before. But prey had never been human before.

Then again, humans had never attempted to infiltrate your territory nor threatened your pack before. Not like this.

“Good shot, sweet pea,” Graves said, speaking up over the din around you.

You had just enough time to see his faint grin before the world exploded around you.

You blinked at the dirt under you, ears ringing, head aching. Hands grabbed you and you growled, disoriented, at least until you heard the familiar sounds of your pack shouting. Pulling you back, away from danger. Presumably. Your hearing was still fucked, and you couldn’t smell anything through the gunpowder and smoke.

One of them fell with a shout, something you just barely heard. You stumbled as his support vanished, falling to your knees. The other Shadow tried to haul you to your feet before he was shoved away, much harsher hands grabbing you. You yelped, the sound too canine to come from a human throat, still disoriented enough that you couldn’t properly resist.

You almost got your feet under you, except a harsh yank from one of the two pulling you along sent you right back off-balance. You swore, clumsily grabbing for something to hold on to. Your hearing was coming back, slower than you liked but enough.

They were dragging you off base. To Shepherd.

If they got you that far, Graves wouldn’t be able to get you back.

You twisted hard, managing to get a hand on one of them. He tried to yank you off balance, muttering curses.

But you took advantage of the bare skin of his wrist that you could see and lunged, jaw locking and teeth clamping into his skin. The hot taste of blood filled your mouth but you refused to let go, even as one of them hit you in the back, hard.

It wasn’t until you heard two gunshots, closer than expected, followed by the dead weight of the soldier dragging both of you down that you released your grip. You spat blood out of your mouth, swaying a little.

“Sweet pea!” Graves hit the ground next to you, one hand immediately going to your cheek. Blood matted down his hair on his right side, and he seemed to be favoring that side in general, right arm kept tight to his side. Shadows surrounded the two of you, keeping Shepherd’s forces back.

“I’m okay,” you managed, still a little dizzy. But you latched on to Graves’s vest, because he was right there and comforting.

Graves let out a relieved sigh, giving you a quick visual once-over. His thumb smeared the blood on your chin.

“Not mine,” you reminded him, paying no mind to the two bodies around you now.

He nodded, tugging you closer. “Marry me.”

“What?” You blinked at him rapidly, sure you’d misheard him.

But he grinned, bright and a little mischievous, totally disregarding the active battlefield you were on. “Marry me.”

“Let’s finish this first,” you pointed out, lips twitching in response to his humor. “Kill Shepherd first. And then I expect a proper proposal.”

“Anything you want.” He pressed a hard kiss to your lips, uncaring of the blood, before he got to his feet. You followed him, swaying only for a moment before you caught your balance.

Shepherd’s force had been decimated, only four remaining, huddled behind the protection of the armored vehicles. One tried to put down his weapon and back away from the fight, only for Shepherd to turn on him and shoot him.

“You can end this,” Graves yelled to Shepherd in open mockery of Shepherd’s earlier offer. “Nobody else has to die.”

Shepherd didn’t respond, gaze flitting between the Shadows and Graves and you. “You really think you can get away with this?” he asked, voice absolutely venomous. “I’m a general!”

“Shouldn’t have tried to take my coyote, then.” Graves backed up, gently pushing you back as well. You were confused for a moment, trying to figure out what the plan was. There was no way he was just letting Shepherd live, was he?

The Shadows all swarmed back behind cover, still keeping you surrounded. Something rolled under the vehicle Shepherd hid behind, and the whole thing blew up. You ducked a little, reflexively, before popping back up with wide eyes to watch. The other vehicles were also quickly destroyed.

You followed Graves over to check the bodies. All dead. You tipped your head, looking down at Shepherd, silently wondering if he’d really been willing to die to get his hands on you.

“Let’s clean up this mess,” Graves ordered, and Shadows immediately jumped to obey. But grief hid in his eyes as he looked at his base. You leaned into him, silently offering support. You’d help count the losses.

“You still owe me a proper answer,” Graves murmured, his hand settling low on your back.

“You still owe me a proper proposal.” You smiled, leaning harder into him. “Even though you’re already mine.”

He huffed. “Bold of you,” he mumbled, head dipping closer to yours. “I like it.”

“You always have.” You smirked, tipping your head enough to bare your teeth at him and watch as his pupils dilated.

“Trouble.” But Graves just grinned at you.

–

The base was a mess. Graves helped as much as he could, contacted families and next of kin as necessary.

The general was disposed of quietly, their trail covered. His Shadows wouldn’t face the fallout of this.

You held up better than Graves had expected, supporting his men when needed, doing whatever you could to help with cleanup and disposal. Honestly, he was impressed.

He also hadn’t forgotten his promise to you.

Once he was sure the danger had passed, he made some arrangements. Flight plans, necessary permits, a few phone calls. Everything was set and arranged exactly how he wanted.

He had basically everything. The last thing was something he needed to pick up himself. He snuck out while you were hunting, knowing you’d more than likely pout but he’d be back soon.

“How do you feel about goin’ on a little trip, sweet pea?” He asked a few days later, so as not to arouse suspicion.

You shrugged from your place in his lap, idly watching a few of the younger Shadows playing a video game. “Never done much of it,” you admitted easily. “Never had a chance.”

He hummed, one hand squeezing your hip gently. “You interested?”

“Sure, if you want.” You shot him a little smile over your shoulder, relaxed still. That told Graves everything he needed to know.

He didn’t quite pick out your clothes for you, but he did insist on a few things. Like something nice to wear. (And if he snuck in a brand new set of lingerie for you, well, he liked seeing you in pretty things.)

You didn’t like the plane trip, that much was obvious. Tension pulled your shoulders tight, and it took you a long time to get comfortable and settle down. Graves kept one hand on you to help where he could, and was finally rewarded when you fell asleep against his shoulder.

Watching your awe looking around somewhere new warmed him in unexpected ways. (Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. He did ask you to marry him, after all.)

He gave the two of you three days to adjust to the timezone change and do some touristy things. Not that he much cared - he’d been all over the world by now. People were people everywhere. But giving you this experience? So much better.

You eyed the Eiffel tower with distrust when he led you to it, and he couldn’t help but smirk.

“Don’t worry, sweet pea,” he drawled, extra sweet. “You’ll be fine.”

You immediately scowled at him (just as he’d hoped) and stalked up to the lifts. He followed a little more leisurely, knowing everything was taken care of.

He caught your expression as the sun set, the wind whipping against the two of you, the city sounds all but gone. You looked awed again, hands gripping the railing as you looked over the city. Graves smiled, pleased with his timing, and settled next to you for a minute, just letting you look your fill. The softer light on your skin filled him with a kind of warmth he’d never thought he’d experience.

“Hey, sweet pea. Got a question for you.”

You turned to him and blinked, totally unsuspecting. Graves took a knee in front of you, pulling the ring box out of his pocket, and your eyes went wide, one hand flying up to your mouth.

“I promised I’d do this proper,” he murmured, looking up at you, blind to everything else. (There were at least two of his Shadows in the crowd, you were safe, that’s all he cared about.) “Never thought I’d be here, but you’ve been a surprise from the beginning. I want you to keep surprising me, sweet pea. Will you marry me?”

You nodded and then huffed a soft almost-laugh. “Yes,” you managed, hands settling on his cheeks before you kissed him. The crowd around the two of you clapped, a few whistles coming from his boys. Graves grinned at you, honestly ridiculously happy, and slid the ring on your finger.

Standing there with you in his arms, the stars slowly emerging even as his boys put on a hell of a fireworks show for the two of them, Graves knew one thing for certain.

He’d gentled his coyote, but you’d gentled him every bit as much. And he was just fine with that.

#shifter au #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #f!reader

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 4 months

Text

First Times (Poly Relationship w/ John & Ghost Headcanons)

I spent the morning exploring Hackney, which is rich in breweries. While wandering about, I got to thinking, what if…

John starts working at a brewery when he retires from the army?

OR!

He starts a micro brewery/pub with Simon, who retires around the same time.

🍺 The two men set to work immediately to acquire the proper licenses and a premise. Fortunately for the both of them, they’re quite handy and so know how to create a lovely, albeit very manly, space without too much interference from contractors. After all, why hire others for work you can do yourself?

🍺 Honestly, the business is a dream come true for John. Owning a micro brewery was his Plan B should things not work out with the army. However, it’s because of his former employment, he’s become a better business owner. It’s through the development of his leadership and risk-assessment skills he managed to secure the rank of captain.

🍺 For Simon, the brewery is an unexpected ambition, a new dream to follow. While he lets John do most of the marketing (because Simon can’t be arsed with social media… being social in general), he’s mostly pre-occupied with the creation of new and improvement of the already existing craft beers.

🍺 The business steadily grows as word gets about town. Soon, it’s not only the local Hackney residents who pop by, but also people from other boroughs.

🍺 Including you.

🍺 Come from Inner London, the people of the area find you somewhat of a posh puppy, a bit of a toff. It’s this view of you which makes them wonder what on Earth you’re doing in East London, this artsy and not as affluent part of the city.

🍺 Nevertheless, you’re a sight for sore eyes if you ask Simon, who’s your old neighbour back from the few years you lived in Manchester after moving there with your parents.

🍺 Though gruff and distant in the beginning, Simon gradually warmed up to you. Despite never opening up emotionally, you two did develop a strong amiable bond. Maybe because you were the only one to greet him on the street, to ask about his career after catching a glimpse of the dog tag around his neck, to welcome him back each time he was deployed.

🍺 To show sincere interest in him.

🍺 Your parents weren’t a fan of you socializing with the giant in the skull balaclava, but they never told you off for it since you two always seemed to have a good time. Moreover, they rarely saw you smile unless you were with him. So they let it slide, prioritizing your happiness over their prejudice.

🍺 It was only in the spring before you moved without telling him where to and he was deployed yet again, Simon realized he had feelings for you. Nonetheless, he put them aside or, rather, suppressed them until they numbed. He had nothing to offer, fifteen years your elder and terribly haunted.

🍺 So imagine his surprise and absolute delight when you stand in front of him, prettier than he can remember. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

🍺 “Y/N,” it’s the only thing he can say, finally out loud after years of uttering it in silence.

🍺 “Who’s this fair lady?” John slides up next to Simon, arms crossed as he takes you in. His sea blue eyes darken when they meet yours. “How can we help, miss?”

🍺 The way he practically purrs the words sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. Yet, you conceal the effect he has on you behind a steady voice. “I saw the notice on the window, about the open position. Has it been filled in the meanwhile or can I still apply?”

🍺 “She’s a good one, John. Hardworking, trustworthy, kind. Fast learner too,” Simon says pensively.

🍺 “Got experience in the field?” John asks.

🍺 “Studied psychology, during which I mostly focused on the effect of marketing on the human psyche. Also run a food blog and Instagram”

🍺 “Thank Simon properly before you leave. I trust his judgment and seeing he knows you best, I’ll take his word for it.” He slaps his business partner on the shoulder. “Drop by tomorrow and we’ll discuss your contract. I’m looking forward to working with you…”

🍺 “Y/N.”

🍺 “Y/N...” John repeats thoughtfully. Then he hums and heads off.

🍺 Thus begins a series of firsts and connections as you settle down in Hackney.

🍺 Over the course of a few weeks, the locals come to see you as one of their own as you show them you simply aren’t some girl with rich parents, a spoiled princess, but a young woman trying to make a life for herself with her own hard-earned money via helping at the counter and striking up conversations.

🍺 John and you grow closer too. He admires and respects your eye for detail and aesthetics, though sometimes he feels a little awkward when you’re trying to direct him for the occasional TikTok. Nevertheless, it’s your creativity that keeps drawing him in, igniting the need to keep getting closer to you. What also helps is you bringing him coffee or reminding him to take breaks (both with a kiss on the cheek later down the line).

🍺 Loves to review the content you create together, especially when you’re in his lap while doing so.

🍺 On your mutual days off, John drags you all over London to visit bakeries and cafés. Never had you thought him a foodie, though it’s a pleasant discovery since there’s always something new to experience on the food scene. Moreover, he loves helping you out with your own blog, not just the one you created for the brewery.

🍺 These days, you’re teaching him photography and are taking baking classes together. Although, you might as well go on your own to the latter because he’s a terrible baker (unlike Simon, who’s self-taught and surprisingly good, like, sale-appropriate why-doesn’t-he-have-at-least-a-micro-bakery good).

🍺 Your bond with Simon mostly rekindles via being his guinea pig. He knows how brutally honest you can be in your feedback, which he thoroughly appreciates. Outside work, the two of you frequent bookshops, have picnics in the major parks in London, and visit the city’s oldest cemeteries. The latter is a bit of a morbid idea of a nice outing, but you appreciate the silence and romantic sense of decay in the air.

🍺 It isn’t long before you take up residence in the apartment the two men share, which leaves the other residents of the building wondering about your relationships to one another. Although, they can guess at the nature of it seeing the “noise” at night. As I said, lots of first including a relationship with two men older than you.

🍺 But aside from the plethora of sensual moments, there are also plenty of tender (and domestic) firsts. For example, Simon accompanies you to your first tattoo appointment. When, the next day, you’re struck by tattoo flu, he takes care of you. Of course John doesn’t force you to come to work nor Simon for that matter, who you clearly need at the moment (despite claiming otherwise). Henceforth, you’re both granted PTO until you’re back on your feet.

🍺 Speaking of the former-captain, John is your very first kiss. You and him went out for pizza (Simon preferring to stay home and read). On the way to Hackney Wick, beneath a bridge heavily decorated with graffiti and sheltering a few barges, he put his hands on your cheeks and crashed his lips into yours. He tasted of tobacco and white wine, laced with the sweetness of tomatoes and basil. That night, he made love to you.

🍺 Another first.

🍺 Simon prepared breakfast the next morning, serving food to ensure John and you wouldn’t succumb to exhaustion later in the day. Nor him, for that matter, because while he doesn’t get jealous and loves sharing you with his best friend, he sometimes wishes you wouldn’t go at it till early in the morning when the next day is an ordinary work day.

🍺 You’re there for them when either of them suffers from night terrors or combat stress. Simon is more prone to the former, whereas John is to the latter.

🍺 You accompany Simon to therapy too after he’s been diagnosed with PTSD. At first he didn’t want to go, refused it even, until he finally relented after another episode of flashbacks and coming to his senses while shaking in your arms.

🍺 Life with John and Simon isn’t always easy nor romantic.

🍺 But bloody hell, do they make it better.

#CoD #CoD x Reader #John Price #Ghost x Reader #Simon Riley #John Price x Reader #Simon Riley x Reader #Simon Ghost Riley #Captain John Price #Captain Jonathan Price #Captain John Price x Reader #Ghost CoD #CoD MW Ghost

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katebishopsbow · 1 year

Text

A STUDY BREAK • NEYMAR JR

pairing: neymar jr x reader (18+)

summary: in the middle of studying for your physics exam, neymar decided that you needed a little break, and he’s more than happy to help you de-stress.

tags: explicit sexual content (minors dni), fingering, spit, finger sucking, choking, praise kink, possessive!neymar, dom!neymar, inexperienced!reader, no mentions of y/n, established relationships

word count: 2.8k

(gif is not mine)

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

“Meu amor.” You hummed at your boyfriend’s nickname for you, keeping your gaze glued to the physics textbook before you as you flipped through another page. Finals week - every college student’s worst nightmare - was right around the corner, and you originally planned to have a cram study session at home, but Neymar managed to convince you to come over and study at his place - which you only agreed to after making him promise not to bother you while you were studying.

He tried sticking to his promise and busied himself with video games, heck, he even started cleaning the house out of boredom - but two hours had passed and he was getting real bored, and hard, and he wanted your attention.

You felt the bed dip behind you, and you sighed in contentment when his arms encircled your waist, tugging you closer toward his chest. “Are you done studying yet?” he asked despite already knowing the answer, though a devious plan was beginning to form inside his head that could most definitely convince you to take a break.

“Still got six chapters left… and the pile of notes over there,” you pouted while nodding your chin towards the papers scattered over the bedroom floor, and the mere sight of the messy notes was enough to worsen the terrible headache pulsating at your temples. A break was very much needed, but time didn’t quite allow you to take one at the moment, and pulling an all-nighter wasn’t exactly your forte.

“Take a break,” Neymar whispered behind your ear before leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on your neck, and another, and another, until you were a giggling mess writhing around in his arms. “Ney, stop, I have to study,” you protested jokingly, nudging him away with your elbow as you tried to suppress your laughter.

Neymar stopped for a second, and just when you thought he was finally going to stop pestering you, he leaned in closer and placed an open-mouthed kiss over your skin. “Let me help you relax, baby,” he exhaled, voice deep and hoarse almost as if he had just woken up while his hot breath fanned over the spot he just kissed.

Your breath hitched, and you could feel your pulse quicken at the sudden change of mood. He leaned in to kiss you again, right above your collarbone, swiping his tongue swiftly against your skin as he kept a firm grip on your waist.

Slowly and steadily, he let his finger slide down your waist and settled over your thigh, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your exposed skin below the hem of your shorts. His touch led a scorching hot trail along your body, goosebumps forming underneath his fingertips, and each circle he drew sent a flurry of tingles down your spine, clouding your mind with thoughts of him and him only.

You had every intention to stop, to pull away from him and get back to studying for the damned physics final you had the next day, but the truth was that you didn’t want it to stop. Every kiss and every touch was so intoxicating that you wished you could get lost in him forever.

The exam had somehow become the last thing on your mind, fading into blurry nothingness - pointless and unimportant. Instead, all thoughts were replaced by Neymar and every little thing about him - his touch, his kisses, his scent.

His lips pulled up into a slight smirk when he noticed the way your body stiffened and your breathing sped up, especially when his fingertips inched closer and closer to your core. He didn’t have to look at you to know that you were blushing, that your cheeks were heating up in a faint crimson while becoming so worked up by his gentle yet teasing touch, desperate for him to touch you but was simply too shy to say anything about it.

He knew everything about you - so innocent and so easy to read - and he knew how to get you exactly where he wanted.

“Let me make you feel good,” he said to you while you leaned backward, and he had to clench his jaw in an attempt to suppress the pleasured groan threatening to spill from his lips when your body brushed against his hardness over his sweatpants.

“Ney, what’s wrong?” you asked with a hint of genuine worry in your voice, completely oblivious to your effect on him and his aching need for you. “Nothing, love, just relax,” he reassured you as he tightened his arm around your waist, giving your thigh a comforting squeeze with his other hand.

Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to get any studying done, not when your boyfriend’s hands are all over you, you nodded at his words before allowing yourself to relax and leaned into his embrace, nestling closer to Neymar and settled between his legs. “Just a quick break…” you whispered softly with a defeated look on your face, but the excitement sitting in the pit of your stomach had long betrayed you - you wanted this just as much as him.

Neymar reached for your chin to turn your head towards him, leaning in slowly until his lips were mere millimeters away from your own. He was so close, so close that you could see the golden specs swimming in his eyes, that if you leaned forward the slightest bit you could kiss him.

But you remained unmoving, holding your breath in anticipation as you waited for him to do something - anything.

There was an unfathomable look in his eyes, a glint of hunger fueled by the desire he had for you. “Be a good girl for me,” he said hushedly, voice firm and authoritative as if he was daring you to misbehave - but you knew better than to do so. You watched as his gaze flickered down to your mouth, and then he leaned forward to connect your lips, stealing your breath away.

You let him take the lead like you always did, surrendering yourself to him in each and every way possible. His taste was intoxicating, each swipe of his tongue and each touch of his skin so addictive that you wondered how you were able to survive all these years before meeting him.

His hand glided down your face to settle over your neck, and you felt his fingers wrapped themselves loosely around your throat before giving it a light squeeze - gentle enough not to hurt, but hard enough to send a wave of pleasure down your body.

You never admitted to him how much you liked it whenever he did that, but you didn’t have to, because Neymar always knew every single thought inside of your pretty little head.

He gave you another squeeze - this time slightly harder, and he certainly hadn’t missed the way your breath hitched against his lips and the soft whine that you let out. “You’re such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?” he asked you quietly, and you couldn’t help but nod at his words albeit knowing it was more of a teasing remark rather than a genuine question.

He let out a small laugh, his breath hot against your lips before he pulled away to stare into your eyes. There was an almost wolfish glint in his gaze, fingers still wrapped around your throat as he breathed out, “Say it, tell me you’re my dirty little girl.”

Your thighs instinctively clenched together at his words, arousal filling up your chest from the thought of being his - completely and utterly his. “I’m your dirty little girl,” you repeated after him, your words coming out shakier than you thought, weak and breathy almost like a pleading whine.

Neymar grinned slightly before he continued kissing down your neck, leaving a trail of wet and tender kisses while occasionally nipping at your delicate skin, suckling and nibbling as he pleased. The fingers splayed on your thighs inched higher and higher until they reached the hem of your shorts where he began toying with the flimsy fabric, purposefully avoiding the place where you needed him the most.

You made a noise of frustration - whiney and desperate - and Neymar would’ve cooed at how adorable you were if it wasn’t for how insanely hard that sound had made him. “What is it, princess?” The simple question only managed to make your frustration grow, because you knew that he knew what you wanted, he just wanted you to say it out loud.

“Ney…” you let out a shuddering breath, feeling your body grow hot from the raw desire and want coursing through your veins. “What do you want me to do, hmm?” Neymar felt like a sick bastard for doing this, for teasing you and being so mean - and perhaps he was for wanting to hear those sinful words coming out of his sweet, innocent girlfriend. But the second the words spilled from your lips, he realized that he was fine being a sick bastard if it meant that he could keep hearing them.

With your wide eyes, blown pupils, and swollen lips, you inhaled a shaky breath before muttering softly at your boyfriend, “Touch me, please.” Three words, three simple words, but it was enough to send him into overdrive.

“Fuck, baby…” Neymar liked to think that he was a rather calm person - even on the field when his team was falling behind or when he only had mere seconds left to score a goal, he liked to think that he could stay unfazed and collected in most scenarios - though he swore he almost fainted upon hearing what you said.

The desperation seeping through your words and the pleading glint in your eyes, so innocent and clueless yet completely consumed by the sinful desire for him. Everything about you drove him to insanity, and he wanted to corrupt you so badly that it hurt.

The relief that washed over you when he finally slipped his hand inside your shorts was simply indescribable, and you couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan the second his fingertips brushed against your skin. He glanced down at you with a tender gaze, watching you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. “I’ll make you feel real good, meu amor,” he said to you before pressing a kiss on the side of your head, voice sweet and mellow while he rubbed a gentle finger through your soaked folds.

The sensation was electrifying, and you found yourself wanting more from him - so much more. “Keep it wide open for me, hmm?” he instructed after pushing your thighs apart, humming in satisfaction when you nodded compliantly. Your eyes fluttered close as he traced your core with his fingers, gathering your wetness with each delicate stroke while he teased your entrance, swiping against your throbbing hole but not quite entering.

“Ney, please… I can’t…” you mewled as you gripped onto the sleeves of his sweatshirt, and as much as he enjoyed hearing you beg, he decided that it was enough teasing for the day. With a deep grunt, he finally slipped his fingers inside you, groaning at the warm sensation enveloping his slick digit. “God, you’re tight,” he huffed when he pulled out his finger, admiring the glistening wetness coating his hand before lifting it to his mouth, lapping feverishly at your sweetness as he smirked, “Sweet too.”

Pulling his finger out, he lifted his hand to your lips and pushed his spit-slickened digit inside your mouth, groaning at the warm cavern of your lips wrapped around him. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, unsure of what you were supposed to do as he gently pressed his finger on your tongue.

“Suck,” he ordered while he watched you with an intense gaze, and being obedient as ever, you began sucking lightly on his finger, tasting the slightest tinge of yourself on him. He pushed in even further, urging you to attempt swirling your tongue around him - and although your movement was slow and inexperienced, the lewd sight in front of him was enough to make him let out an obscene grunt.

Neymar wondered if he could possibly get any more turned on than this very moment, with you sucking on his finger as you glanced up at him with those innocent eyes, always so eager to please him. And more than anything, he wished that your lips were wrapped around his growing hardness instead.

He pulled out his finger abruptly, a string of saliva still connecting your lips to his slick hand, and he watched with intent as it broke off. Then his fingers were inside you again, this time adding a second one while he plunged them in and out of you with quick, deft strokes.

Wonton moans escaped your lips each time his fingertips dragged along your walls, touching you at just the right spot where you needed him the most. Neymar relished every whine, every mewl, every whimper that came from you, and he wondered how you would sound like when you finally reached your peak.

“F– feels so good…” Your chest heaved up and down, panting from the pleasure building deep within you as he continued speeding up his strokes. “God, you’re such a good girl for me,” he grunted between clenched teeth, keeping a steady pace with his fingers while his other hand traveled to your breast, giving it a tight squeeze.

The nickname made you feel lightheaded, filling your chest with a euphoric feeling that was difficult to explain. You wanted to be a good girl for him, you wanted to pleasure him the same way he was pleasuring you, you wanted to be his - only his and nobody else.

His fingers continued to move inside you - quick and experienced - stretching you out in the best way possible, and the pleasure that began building within you had slowly become overwhelming. “Ney, I–” you managed to choke out, feeling as if your breath got lodged in your throat. “Shhh, just a little bit more,” he shushed you and placed a kiss on your head, determined to bring you to the sweet release that he knew you so desperately needed.

Your body felt like it was on fire, his touch setting you ablaze while molten heat coursed through you. “I bet you’d feel so good around my cock, baby.” His voice sounded breathless, and the occasional grunts that escaped his lips were clear indicators that he was just as affected by this as you were.

“Ney, please…please,” You weren’t entirely sure what exactly were you begging for, your mind had become far too clouded to form any coherent thoughts. “Does that feel good?” He pressed down even harder, curling two fingers inside you as his thumb rubbed quick circles over your clit, his pace never faltering even when your fingers dug into his arm, nodding your head in a frantic manner.

You could feel yourself get closer and closer to the edge, so dangerously close that all you needed was a little bit more before you could reach your release. Over your fogged-up brain and the deafening heartbeat drumming in your ears, you felt Neymar reach for your hand and laced your fingers together, as if he was telling you to let yourself go.

“Be a good fucking girl and come for me. Show me how good it feels.”

Utter pleasure washed over you, enveloping every fiber of your being while you could feel yourself tumble over the edge. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling your mind go blank from the euphoria you were experiencing.

“There you go, baby.” Your body became limp in Neymar’s embrace, thighs clenching together involuntarily when his fingers continued to pump in and out steadily, working you through your orgasm.

In your peripheral vision, you could see your boyfriend’s face contorting, crumbling together as if he was using every ounce of willpower and self-constraint within him to hold himself back. “Fuck, you look so fucking good right now,” he grunted against your neck, unclasping your hands to bring your face toward him.

“Shit, that was amazing…” you whispered shakily when he leaned in to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. “Feeling less stressed out?” he asked between kisses, and the two of you broke out in laughter knowing damn well you had wasted your precious studying time.

When the laughter subsided, your eyes widened slightly as you felt him grind himself against your lower back, hard and stiff and aching with need.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you now, meu amor ?”

#neymar #neymar x reader #neymar smut #neymar jr #neymar jr x reader #neymar imagines #neymar fics

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muddyorbsblr · 2 months

Text

a startling realization pt1

See my full list of works here!

Summary: Oakley returns to campus after a trip with his mates and steadily comes to realize he's developed feelings for you

Pairing: Oakley x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warning/s: frat boy friends vibes; bit of angst; probably not a completely accurate referencing to the events of 'Unrelated' [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: prequel piece to 'just another memory' but can be read alone; Oakley is a SIMP in the making for Reader

There'd been a strange sinking feeling in Oakley's stomach since he and his mates hit the road back to Cambridge. It was the kind that he'd only ever felt when he knew he'd done something that could get his mother cross at him and she and his father would impose some form of punishment on him. Perhaps revoke his cell phone for a week so he couldn't join his friends on their regular scheduled shenanigans. Or chat up some stunner that he'd met the week prior.

But things were different now. He was no longer bound by their rules for the most part. He was free to do whatever he wished and this trip to Italy was the perfect showcase of that new dynamic. All he had to do was get his degree and get a job, and he would still have their support and financial aid so that he wouldn't have to stay at the dorms or even have to tough it out with a roommate that might not approve of the way he lived day in day out.

The only person keeping him in check now was himself, and as far as he was concerned, there was nothing he'd done in Italy that he wouldn't have done in Cambridge. He had a bloody good time there, even, getting to engage in not just one but two flings, and one of them with an older woman.

And yet, when he thought back on every touch, every kiss, that he'd shared with either of the women, that pit in his stomach would form again. As if the activities he'd engaged in during his vacation were somehow the "wrong thing" that could make someone responsible for him cross.

But why?

"You're awfully quiet back there, mate. Which one of your lucky ladies is taking up space in that randy little brain o' yours, I reckon?" Eric teased, lightly tapping the curly blond's head as he plopped down on the seat next to him, jostling him out of his dwelling over why there was a pit in his stomach to begin with.

"I've no idea what you're on about, mate, I'm not thinking of anyone," he tried to brush it off, brows furrowing together when he tried to remember that night in the pool and the knots in his stomach worsened. Like the memories he made in Italy were not something he could look back at with fondness.

If he dwelled on it for even a second longer than necessary, it almost felt as if he was looking back on those memories with a touch of shame.

"Ah come on, Oaks, you tellin' everyone 'ere that you're not thinking about that stunner of a blonde Elizabetta? Even I'm thinking 'bout her and it wasn't my tongue down 'er throat." Eric crowded his space, squishing him to the side of the van. "Or even that cougar Anna, my lord, man that one was fawning and doting after you!"

As if right on cue, his mobile rang and vibrated violently in his pocket. Another call. He didn't need to even glance at the tiny device to know who it was. She'd been calling since just a few minutes after they'd all said their goodbyes.

That was over 24 hours ago. And he was well on his way back to campus, the scenery already began to elicit that feeling of 'home'. Or at least of familiarity.

"Speak o' the devil! Why don't you pick it up, Oaks? Be a grand old time hearing her pining after you again." His friend flailed into his side, dramatically placing the back of his hand on his brow. "'Oh Oakley how I miss you terribly, why don't I come visit you on Cambridge and we can live out any professor fantasies you might have in that virile young college brain? I'll even get the glasses and the pencil skirt just for you."

"Sod off," he grunted, trying to chuckle away the mental image. Another thing that was bothering him: Those fantasies that he'd had before they left for Italy a little over a month ago…none of them appealed to him now. "If you want, you take her number and live out those filthy little daydreams of yours, mate."

All that he could manage to think of at the moment was the melancholic knowledge that when he got back to his apartment, there would be no one there. He wasn't coming home to anyone. That didn't used to bother him before, but for some reason sitting in this van with all his mates and having to hear them be completely taken up with his own conquests in this trip made him feel as if he should be guilty and shameful somehow of the way he acted. The way he treated both the women that he encountered and found himself entangled with.

This is ridiculous, you're not looking for a wife, you batty little git, he hissed at himself, trying to supress the urge to let out a deep exhale. That would set off everyone in the van. Besides, you don't even know anyone that's even remotely wife material.

"Hey hey hey look alive, lads," Marcus, the one at the wheel, started to call out. His tone was brimming with wanton intent. "We are steadily approaching the dorms, and you know what comes after."

"Sorority row!" the rest of the van cheered, proceeding to make botched barking sounds, effectively drowning out the relentless ringing of Oakley's phone.

But the mention of the dorms finally had him sitting up straighter, realization dawning on him that he was wrong. He actually already knew someone who was so much more than "wife material". Someone brilliant and diligent that had a part of him driven to make the steps to be someone better.

Someone that he called his best friend. Better than anyone in the van with him tonight.

You.

"Marcus, could you drop me off here?" he called out, his stomach flipping at the sight of your familiar silhouette jogging to the front door of your dormitory.

His friends' remarks faded into a dull buzzing in the background as he got off the van, making his way over to you and staying still by your side while you did your step-ups at the bottom step of the stairs. It only took a few moments before you shifted your gaze at him, removing your earphones and hooking the cord behind your head before giving him a beaming grin.

"Goldie Long Legs!" you squealed, the exhilaration from your workout giving you an adorably flushed look, the slightest tinge of pink on your cheeks. "I didn't know you were coming back tonight."

"I was gonna give you a call when I woke up tomorrow, but then I saw you." He did his best not to pay too much attention to the strange somersaults his stomach was making the longer he stared at you. "Coffee?" He tried to keep his tone casual, despite the way his voice cracked on the last syllable, as if he was a nervous lad asking a girl out for the first time.

You answered a giggle that had his heart doing the most bizarre acrobatics in his chest. Why was he reacting to you like this? Was it simply the lack of a woman's presence the last two days as they made their way back, making this reaction more primal than anything else? Was it your exercise outfit and the way the fabric clung to the curves that were rarely ever out for him to take notice of before?

Was it something else? Something that was simply…uniquely…you?

"Coffee? At this hour?" you laughed off his offer. "All the coffee shops are closed by now, and you know how you get with caffeine, Goldie. If you have a sip, you won't know a peaceful night's sleep tonight."

"Oi! Lookin' good there, Y/L/N!" Eric hollered from the van. Oakley's skin bristled seeing how his friend leered over your figure. "Shame you didn't join us, Italy woulda been an even prettier sight with you around."

"Rather not add to the trail of broken hearts you lot left behind," you shot back flawlessly, sticking your tongue out at the boys in the van. "I know you lads well enough to know you didn't behave yourselves."

"Oaks over there's the worst offender of us all!" Eric pouted, pointing at the curly haired blond. "Two flings. At the same time. Shoulda seen him, Y/L/N, he was at the top of his game."

The playful smile on your face faltered for a fraction of a second before you recomposed yourself. That infinitesimal moment was more than enough for the pit in his stomach to make its presence felt once again. Now Oakley knew what it was, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Shame. And the worry that knowing what he'd done back there would somehow taint your perception of him. When your gaze darted to him once again, he had to fight back the words that wanted to stumble clumsily out of his mouth. They meant nothing to me.

In the moment they were fascinating, and truthfully while he was in said moment, he thought about how things would go moving forward. If he would try to pursue anything with either of them, but ultimately the immediate answer was 'No'. Back then he didn't know quite yet the reason behind his mind's outright refusal, but now he did.

This dalliance was a mistake. I have someone so much better back at home and I've been a fool not to see it.

"Quite the juggling act, Goldie," you remarked, your tone more hushed than before. It felt as if you were putting distance between the two of you despite not having moved an inch. Like there was a wall he couldn't quite scale now just to get to you.

"One o' them even gave him a nice lil picture o' her. A breathtaking blonde called Elizabetta. Ohh man not even the finest girls in sorority row can compare."

Shut up, you little twat, he internally seethed, wanting nothing more than to throw whatever he could get his hands on at Eric's head so that he could just. Stop. Talking.

And then his mobile started ringing again. And your smile disappeared, your face looking as if it was struggling to decide how to reconfigure itself, your neck twitching with every shrill note of his ringtone. "That's probably that breathtaking blonde now," you said in an eerily chipper tone. "I won't keep you any longer, I'm sure you're tired from the trip. And you'd like to spend the night speaking with your new lady friend."

"Oh that's not even the blonde! That's the other one!" Dammit Eric, stop talking. "Older lady. Head over heels for him, she couldn't keep her hands off him every time they were in the room together. Told you, Y/L/N. Top of his game."

"Ohh so a lady lady friend. All worldly and whatnot…" Even your body language was throwing him off now, way too casual to fit how he himself felt in this moment. The feeling of wanting more than anything to explain. "Well then, I really don't want to keep you. I know better than to keep my elders waiting, you should, too."

The boys in the van started cheering and clapping over your remark, jokingly chanting "One of us! One of us!" as you gave them a curtsy, making a motion as if you were wearing a skirt rather than your black and hot pink leggings.

It was only when you were halfway up the steps to your dorm building that he managed to find his voice again. "Breakfast tomorrow? My treat?"

You only answered with another giggle. "Did you hit your head or something back in Italy? You don't do breakfast, Oakley. At most you do half a protein bar at first period. From my purse. I'll see you at lunch. I mean…if you're not too busy with your new lady friends or whatever."

He couldn't come up with an intelligible enough response, instead watching you walk into your building and shutting the door, wiping away at your face with your towel. All that he could do was walk back into the van, telling Marcus in a daze, "Drop me off at my place. I'm not in the mood for stop overs at sorority row."

Oakley wasn't in the mood for any more games. Any more women. Not tonight.

The next morning the first thing he did was call up his service provider to see about getting a number blocked, and then he grabbed his wallet, rummaging around in his desk drawer for a handful of photos to place in front of Elizabetta's. A group photo with his mates from their first class project in freshman year, a photo with his family. A photo of a stolen moment with you where you two were wielding chopsticks at each other in a playful "stand off" for a potsticker, and your graduation photo.

On a whim, he placed the potsticker one in the front, a fond smile stretching across his face as he traced his finger over your face in the picture. And then his alarm clock began to ring and the sound quickly filled his apartment, springing him into action to find the nearest clean outfit he had lying around.

He nearly broke a sweat with how fast he ran to your dorm building, hoping he'd catch you before you started walking toward wherever you'd decided to grab breakfast for this morning. Right as he was across the street from the front doors, you walked out, one earphone plugged in and the other dangling from the cord, undoubtedly mouthing along to whichever song was topping the chart this week.

"Y/N!" He internally winced at the hoarseness in his voice. He wasn't even running for that long; how was it that he was already heaving for air?

Your head snapped up to his direction at the sound of your name, shock registering on your face when your eyes met his. Followed by confusion, your brows adorably knitting together as you watched him jogging towards you as he crossed the street.

"What brings you to my neck of the woods at this hour, Goldie?" you greeted him with a smile, hooking the cord of your earphones behind your neck. "Have a breakfast date with one of the girls from my building? You must have it bad for this one if you're willing to wake up so early for--"

"Y/N, I'm…I'm not here for someone from your building," he cut you off, wiping his hands on his shorts before standing up straight, trying to get his heart to stop beating so bloody fast. "I asked you to breakfast last night, remember? My treat?"

His response had you visibly taken aback. "Oh…" The word came out more like a squeak, making you clear your throat. "I uhh…I thought you just offered that as a nicety. For catching up. We could've done lunch…or you know, coffee now that it's a reasonable hour."

"We could do that, too," he said in a rush, fighting against the strange instinctual urge to reach for your hand as the worry that you might wave him off and start walking away crossed his mind. "After breakfast?"

You shuffled your feet in place, slightly swaying back and forth. It was a motion he knew all too well from you, the one that told him you were trying to think something through, trying to find the reason and the rationality in something before deciding what to say or do next. Had it been any other day, any other circumstance, and had he not been grappling with finding his own sense of rationality in why there was suddenly this shift on how he was acting and reacting around you, he would have swayed with you.

After a few moments your mouth stretched into a half-smile, shrugging before tilting your head in the direction of a nearby cafe and bakery. "Alright then. Let's go."

Oakley couldn't help how his face broke out into a grin, a touch too eagerly falling into step with you, still fighting the urge to reach for your hand. To lace his fingers with yours.

"So tell me all about Italy," you started, looking up at him and squinting your eyes as the morning sun hit your features. "Start with the food because I want to know if handmade pasta--"

"We can talk about Italy later," he breathed out, finally losing the struggle to not reach for you and settling on lightly resting his hand just above the small of your back. "Tell me about what you've been up to the last six weeks."

He'd try and process what it meant later. That all he wanted to do was know how you'd spent your time apart. That he wanted to hear your stories rather than speak about his own. That much as it was an extraordinary experience to roam Italy with his mates, the only thing he could think of now was how it could have been even more beautiful if he perhaps…experienced it with you.

"Oh…" Your voice got smaller again, as if you were struggling yourself to find words. "Well truthfully they were quite boring. My sister visited campus to drag me to the shopping plaza to overhaul my wardrobe. She's quite literally holding my jumpers hostage and replaced them all with…well, things like these." You awkwardly motioned at the dress you were wearing, a frilly sage number with a bow. "I look ridiculous."

"You look beautiful," he blurted out, immediately biting the inside of his cheek when you snapped your head up to give him a questioning look. A new feeling flooded him. Something almost akin to…fear? His heart was still pounding and thrashing in his chest, his breathing thready like the air was too thin.

Like he was afraid that you'd look at him and see right through him. Right into his soul. His deepest, most secret thoughts. Thoughts he hadn't even dared to properly articulate with himself.

And if you saw them, if you saw him, you would walk away without a second thought. Those words that he was so used to wielding without completely meaning it when he was around other girls, he'd uttered to you with the weight of every unspoken thought he'd had of you since last night.

With every ounce of sincerity and honesty that felt so foreign for him to possess.

"Oh please, Goldie, you don't have to butter me up," you laughed off his compliment, waving it away with your hand like it was a little housefly flitting away by your face. "You don't have to lay it on--"

"I'm not." The words were flying out of him faster than his brain could filter them. "You're beautiful, Y/N. And it's not because your sister overhauled your wardrobe or you changed your hair. It's you." His heart caught in his throat seeing your eyes widen, the questions and the confusion in them mirroring his own. What was wrong with him today? "All of you."

You pursed your lips, already looking back in the opposite direction like you were second guessing agreeing to sharing a meal with him. Or maybe even sharing any form of time with him. He already wanted to hit himself for not keeping his mouth shut, he probably just flushed your entire friendship down the toilet all because he started acting the same way he did when he was in the first grade talking to the prettiest girl in class.

"Hmmm," you sounded through pursed lips, taking a deep breath before your features morphed into that all too composed smile that you gave him and his mates last night. "And here I thought all I had going for me was my winning personailty."

"That's just a part of it," he shot back, failing to fight the urge to touch his hand to your arm as you reached the cafe, helping you keep steady as you walked up the elevated platform leading to the door. Right as you walked past him when he opened the door for you, he caught a wisp of your perfume. The same one you'd worn every day since the day he met you, the scent of apples and mandarin blanketing him with a warmth that took him aback.

Memories of his weeks in Italy now bombarded him. How he would relish the apples that he had, breathing in the scent before taking a bite. How he brought an apple when he and the rest of the group visited a citrus grove, and how the combined smells reminded him of home.

Only his family home didn't smell like that at all. It smelled of tea plants and bergamot.

"Oakley?" Your voice broke through his memories. "You alright over there?"

He took in the sight of you, a single eyebrow raised looking like you were amused by his stupefied state, the corner of your mouth upturned in a little smirk. "Right as rain," he choked out, finding it hard to breathe properly with his heart beating so fast it might as well be The Flash on a treadmill. "Just not used to being up this early, is all."

You only wagged your finger at him, tsk'ing in response when he stepped up next to you at the counter. "Shouldn't have shocked your system with changing your routine like that, Goldie. You have to ease yourself into it, take baby steps. Otherwise you'll crash midday and end up taking a twenty-minute nap that quickly turns into four hours, miss a lecture, and then you'll have to rely on my notes. Again."

"Ah, you should know me better by now, Y/N. I'll need to rely on your notes even if I'm wide awake, I can never pay attention to those old windbags."

His words had you rolling your eyes to the ceiling, a devious smile playing at your lips. He couldn't take his eyes off you, every waking brain cell screaming at him to take your face in his hands and kiss you.

"And here I thought your time with your new worldly lady friend would have you respecting our elders a bit more," you quipped, laughing at him when all he could do in response was audibly choke on the air. "Maybe we can hack that debauched brain of yours. Pretend those old windbags are your older lady friend instead, or pretend one of the pretty girls in our lecture room is your breathtaking blonde Italian beauty. Maybe then you'll pay a bit more attention in class."

I won't, his mind protested. Why would I look anywhere else when you're right next to me?

"I really don't think so," he said softly, letting out a chuckle when all you did was shake your head at him, proceeding to order a bacon cheese waffle sandwich and the first of a handful of coffees you'd be drinking throughout the day. All the while Oakley watched you, a fond smile stretching across his face as he lost himself in the memory of the citrus grove again. The scent he was chasing the entire way to Italy and back.

Your scent.

Home

A/N: Sometime last year I made a lil note in my idea notebook to make a prequel piece to 'just another memory' and now here we are…and it's gonna be a 2-parter with a potential alternate ending because the lil gremlin horn dogs in my writer brain want a scenario where she chooses…well, y'know what, you'll know who it is soon enough 😈😈

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

#oakley #oakley x reader #unrelated #tom hiddleston x reader #muddyorbs writes

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odairsangel · 27 days

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LISTENN HEAR ME OUT!! So all of the imagines where reader/oc come back from the capitol they are like up and ready to roll but can you write something where reader comes back from the capitol and doesnt wake up for a few days?? finnick is there when she wakes up?? fluff at its finest 🤌 ps i will love you forever!! also its been in the back of my mind for forever

your heard, immediately as soon as I got a chance I wrote this little fluff for you, if you want a part two just request again. love your idea<3

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃 ☀︎ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆞 𓆉𓆝𓇼𓆟 𖦹°‧𓆝𓆡𓆜

FINDING EACHOTHER (again)

a/n: ALSO. I AM SO SORRY IF ITS TERRIBLE. I literally just read the first half of mockingjay. (and sorry if it's not what you meant, just request again if this isn't what you meant, but I think you mean like reader wakes up in district thirteen)

warnings: fluff, mentions of passing out (don't know if it's considered passing out, but there's your warning.)

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆ ┊ . ˚ ˚★

It was all a blur, a haze. The last thing you remembered was the Quarter Quell. Being spilt up, waking up in the Capitol, slipping in and out of weekly sleeps, it was all too much to bare.

Well it doesn't matter anymore, your in district thirteen now, sleeping. You can make out conversations from Haymitch and nurses, or Finnick begging Haymitch not to give up on you, that your body needed 'rest', which wasn’t a lie, at that.

It was a whole week—a week. You were asleep, nothing new right? Except as your eyes peeled open you saw Finnick, that was new. Definitely new. Your first thought was scratched out as Finnick nearly jumped out of his seat, "y/n, y/n-" he grabbed your hand, intertwining it with his. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't protect you from the Capitol, in the arena, even."

"Finn-" you said softly, you voice cracking "I missed you, and no- it's fine, you tried your best." You laced your fingers over his knuckles, refusing to let go, scared if you would let go you would wake up, and this would've just been a dream.

He forced a small smile, "At least I begged Haymitch not to give up, eh?" Finnick pressed his lips against your forehead "Should I go get you your nurse or no?" The monitors around you were steadily beeping, Finnick's voice was as smooth as honey, soothing your nerves.

The urge to rip your IV out to jump into his arms were so surreal. “No. Just you.” You whispered, gripping his hand tighter. “Don’t let go, promise?” You blurted out, leaning towards him.

“Promise, never again.” Finnick pressed his forehead against yours, noses touching, the urge to kiss, breaths hitching, “I love you.”

“Me too.” You whispered back, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you were safe, with Finnick—even though you didn’t know where you where yet.

#finnick odair #finnick #finnick thg #thg finnick #mockingjay #finnick fluff #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader #finnick x you #thg #the hunger games

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flowerandblood · 9 months

Text

The Impossible Choice (49)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, anxiety, angst, smut ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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For the last few days, which had seemed to him like long nights melted into one, he had forgotten how soothing his wife's touch had been to him. How calming her warm, tight walls had been to him, clenching on his fat erection in pleasure, refusing to let him go, wanting to keep him deep inside her.

I need you, husband.

He longed to hear it.

He needed to know that he was necessary to her as she was to him, that she too found peace in his arms when he filled her to the brim with his seed.

He was ready to give her everything and he did indeed.

As he laid on his side with her, panting heavily with his nose snuggled into her hair, he ran his fingers along the inside of her palm, tracing with his fingertips the cut mark of the dragonglass, a reminder that she was only his.

"− I’d like to spend some time with Royce − he’s overwhelmed with his responsibilities − he needs me −" She whispered, and he felt his stomach twist unpleasantly, his body tensed all over. He pressed his lips together, swallowing quietly.

I'm the one who fucking needs you.

He couldn't get the words out of his throat, embarrassed by his simple, baseless jealousy and regret. He knew that Royce had suffered as he had, that he had just lost his father, was still waiting for him to be buried.

That, apart from his sister, he had no one now.

"Do you trust me?" She asked softly, and he felt a squeeze in his heart. He sighed heavily, sinking his face into her hair, fighting his possessive side with difficulty.

"Yes."

And then she left, leaving him alone. He stared ahead, lying on the bed, the sheets beneath him suddenly seeming terribly cold and empty. He breathed steadily, fighting the images before his eyes, fighting the sight of Borros disappearing into the fire and Daeron choking on his own blood.

He got out of bed and tied his breeches, swallowing hard, sitting in a chair in front of the fire as if in lethargy, just trying to survive until she return.

He had the feeling that his body was colder than before he flew out to Harrenhal.

That something had changed in him, that another drop had fallen into the goblet filled to the brim with his madness.

He squeezed his eye shut, trying to think of their child. He always saw the same thing – his wife lying in his bed, cradling their offspring in her arms, singing a lullaby in the candlelight.

This vision soothed him, filled him with warmth, made him realise that even though he sometimes didn't want it, he was still alive.

He opened his eye when he heard the sound of the door opening, his wife walked into their chamber, looking up at him with a gentle smile. He felt a sense of relief, which, however, found no expression on his face. She approached him slowly, with her hands placed on her womb, and looked down at him.

"– do you wish to take a bath, husband? –"

He looked from the side at the servants who were filling the tub with hot water at his wife's orders.

He wanted it to be boiling hot, he wanted to feel discomfort and pain, to burn himself.

To punish himself.

He watched as his wife began to pour in his favourite oils, the scent of lavender teasing his nose.

He realised that the last time they did this was before her beautiful body burned.

When everything was ready, she ordered the servants to leave their chamber and nodded at him to come up to her. He rose lazily from his chair approaching her with an unhurried step, looking down at her, her hands with sure, quick movements began to undo the buckles of his leather tunic.

She drew in a loud breath as his hand suddenly tightened violently on her hair, his lips pressing voraciously into hers, forcing his tongue down her throat, robbing her of breath. She threw her arms around his neck and for a moment they simply caressed each other with their mouth, their kisses intense, sticky and fast, pulling away with a wet click, panting into each other's throats.

"– my water is cooling, sweet wife –" He breathed out into her mouth and she hummed softly, her hands went back to undressing him, but her puffy lips did not leave his, brushing and teasing his skin – he felt his erection getting hard again, his manhood pulsing painfully in his breeches.

She pulled away from him when she felt it, untying the material and glanced down involuntarily, her cheeks flushed.

Even though he had fucked her so many times, even though she saw him bare almost every day, the sight of his cock still filled her with sweet embarrassment.

He ran his hand over his cheek as she lifted her bright, warm gaze to him again – he thought that perhaps she was slowly beginning to recover from her father's death and kissed her forehead.

He stepped into the bath and sighed heavily, feeling both pleasure and discomfort from the temperature – the water around him was steaming, droplets of sweat appearing on his skin. He tilted his head back and laid it on the base ot the tub, murmuring loudly as he felt his wife approach him from behind, untying the ribbon in his hair, keeping their ritual.

He felt her spill some oil water in his hair after she tilted his face back, not wanting to pour water into his healthy eye. With a gentle flick of her hand she pulled his eye patch off his head and he didn't stop her, completely relaxed – at some point he had already forgotten to put it on with her, used to the comfort of sleeping without it for weeks.

He gave himself over completely to her gentle, tender treatments, her hands rubbing oils into his hair only to rinse them away with water again moments later. He felt her fingers on his cheeks, touching him there just for his pleasure, for his sense that she was by his side again and all her attention was on him alone. He swallowed quietly at the thought.

"How is your brother feeling?" He asked out of the blue, without opening his eye.

He heard his wife come around the bathtub, sitting down next to him on the wooden stool, dipping a piece of soft cloth into the water. She began wiping his arm, thoughtful.

"He's trying to manage, but the new responsibilities are overwhelming him. He's afraid of marriage and he's afraid he won't make it as a commander. As a Lord." She said quietly, and he opened his eye and looked at her – her hand dipped into the water with a quiet splash only to emerge and continue trailing over his body.

He hummed quietly, looking ahead again.

"He's been preparing for this all his life." He said indifferently, without accusation or mockery, more stating a fact. He felt his wife look at him.

"You weren't afraid before we got married? After your father died?" She asked uncertainly, dipping her hand in the water again, and he pressed his lips together.

Of course he was afraid.

"My real father died in the Eyrie." He whispered before he had time to think about what had actually left his mouth. He swallowed loudly, glancing at his wife and met her surprised gaze, her lips parted in disbelief.

He felt embarrassed by his words and knew that he needed to give them context.

"I told him, then, when I threatened him, that even though my mother treats you as if you were her daughter, he doesn't treat me like his son." He muttered.

He could see her chest rising and falling in accelerated breaths, her eyebrows arched in pain, her eyes turning red.

"− Aemond −" She choked out with difficulty, though it sounded more like a plea, as if his words brought her pain and relief at the same time.

"− ever since that night when he saved me, I have imagined what would have happened if my father had sent me as he sent Daeron, only not to Old Town, but to Storm's End − if, after I had lost my eye, he had stated that I needed, as a future Lord Commander of my brother's army, to learn the art of war, so that I could watch from the sidelines how the best army in Westeros, the Baratheon army, functioned −" He felt the words literally pour out of his throat, as if he could no longer hide what he had been thinking about in recent weeks.

"− If Borros had shared with me everything he himself knew, if I could have trained with Royce, if I could… −" He said and looked at her as if he was only now seeing her for real again, her lower lip trembling, her eyes flooded with tears that ran down her cheeks one by one, her hands lying on the edge of the tub clenched into fists.

"−… get to know you sooner − maybe then… −" He said and felt his voice break.

"−…maybe then I would have been a different person −" He mumbled hiding his face in his hand, feeling vulnerable, weak. He felt her warm, soothing hand on his face, on his shoulders, his chest.

"− my beloved − I wish so much that this was true − I wish so much that I had met you sooner −" She whispered, and he swallowed loudly and looked at her, her face red with tears, her gaze full of pain and love.

Love for him.

He stood up suddenly with a loud splash of water and took her in his arms, walking with her towards the bed, heedless of her squeals, of the fact that he had wet her entire gown. He laid her on the sheets and knelt over her, the water from his hair dripping onto her face as he untied the ties of her gown and sleeves, which she tried helplessly to help him with.

"− I would have taken you for myself sooner − I would have kissed you in the cold corridors of your father's fortress −" He breathed out in a trembling voice, slipping her top gown off with difficulty, his wife reached back behind her back, untying her bottom skirt, slipping it off quickly, remaining at last in just her nightgown.

He sank into her plump, sweet lips pressing her body with his own to the bed, spreading her thighs in front of him, the tip of his hard, throbbing manhood pushed against her slick entrance, drawing a helpless mewl from her throat. His hand ran through her hair, his forehead pressed against hers, his other hand caught her thigh, holding her in place, not letting her escape.

"− would you visit me in my chamber? − in my bed? −" He panted into her mouth, sucking and licking her lips, sliding in and out of her with a quiet clicks of her mositure in a lazy, slow motion of his hips, her body quivering under him with pleasure.

She threw her arms around his neck, holding him close, moaning sweetly, her nipples hardening visibly under her nightgown from his words, her fleshy insides welcoming his fat cock with ease.

"− yes, gods, you know I would −" She mewled, responding to his every thrust with the impatient roll of her hips, panting along with him, crossing her legs around his waist, their bodies wet with water and their sweat slapping against each other with a sticky, loud smacks.

"− I would be your prince − brother − lover − fuck! −" He hissed, listening to her sobs at his words, her insides clenching around his length so tightly that he knew she was about to come.

His words were arousing her.

She wanted it.

"− A-Aemond − oh gods −" She mumbled out with difficulty, feeling his hips begin to accelerate, pumping his erection into her with a loud slaps of her moisture, her hands tightening on his hair.

"− fuck, fuck, fuck −" He exhaled loudly, slamming into her brutally and quickly, clenching his eye, imagining him fucking her in his chamber in Storm's End.

He came hard hearing her loud moans, her violent orgasm squeezing his hot spend right out of him into her throbbing core. He ran his nose over her wet, sweaty face, placing sticky kisses full of tenderness, love and devotion on her hot skin.

"− my sweetest − shhh −" He whispered, trying to calm her shaking body, her eyes closed, her lips parted sweetly in uneven breathing, her hands stroking his naked back.

"− Aemond −"

They fell asleep in each other's entwined arms, sleeping peacefully through the night for the first time in many days − it was only in the morning that their servant woke them up, informing them that they had to prepare for the ceremony of burning Prince Daeron's body.

They did not speak to each other as the servants helped them put on their black mourning robes, both thoughtful. They left his chamber together, walking slowly through the cloisters of the keep.

He pretended it was not his brother's funeral, but someone else's, that Daeron was in the Citadel.

He didn't know who lay on that big wooden pyre and didn't want to know.

He looked with indifferent eye at Sunfyre standing on the hill above them, Aegon standing beside her and Helaena next to him, embracing their children with her arms.

His sister was trembling all over, her face covered by a dark, transparent veil, but he was still able to see the tears running down her cheeks and her trembling, pale lips. Their grandfather held their mother, who was barely standing on her feet, hugged to her father's chest, looking somewhere to the side, distant in thought.

"− I can't −" He heard a quiet whisper and looked to the side, he, his wife and Helaena stared shocked at Aegon.

Aegon, standing in his mourning royal attire, wearing Aegon the Conqueror's crown was shivering all over, his eyes red, open wide, terrified, staring at their brother's shroud-wrapped body lying right in front of them.

"− I can't − I can't −" He mumbled, Helaena's hand tightening on his arm. She said something to him in a trembling voice, and Aegon looked at her. She touched his cheek with her and he swallowed loudly, nodded and looked ahead.

This was the first time he had seen Helaena touch his older brother of her own free will.

Aegon raised his gaze, clenched his hands into fists and looked ahead, his lower lip trembling before he uttered his order in a loud, breaking voice:

"Dracarys."

Their mother sobbed loudly as Sunfyre's maw opened to envelop their brother's body in a wave of flames that consumed what was left of his flesh. She wanted to throw herself towards him, but Otto stopped her, catching her in half, whispering something to her quickly.

He had the feeling that he had only participated in all this with his body.

He felt nothing.

He shuddered when his wife's fingers touched his hands placed behind his back. He swallowed loudly, his thumb running almost imperceptibly over her palm, just as it had when he had first touched her cheek in Storm's End.

Afterwards, they were to sit down to a grand shared feast, prepared for all the lords who had come from afar to attend their brother's funeral ceremony and to congratulate the King on winning the battle. He knew that the battle of the Eyrie had been crucial in consolidating his power in the eyes of his subjects and magnates.

He and his wife hardly touched the food – Aegon decreed that there would be no music during the feast. It was not a time for rejoicing or dancing.

He leaned against the back of his chair, taking a sip of wine, thoughtful, involuntarily seeking his wife's womb with his hand, her proximity, subconsciously checking that she and his child were safe. He was answered by the touch of her hand, tender, gentle, soothing.

He thought they would get through this together.

And then the door from the throne room opened, one of the guards stepped inside announcing that Lord Borros Baratheon's daughter had just arrived. He felt his wife move beside him hopefully, swallowing loudly, and then they both froze.

Floris stepped inside, descending the stairs slowly, as if her aim was to keep everyone looking at her for as long as possible. Her long, ornate, emerald gown with buff, slit sleeves from under which her nightgown shone shimmered with the colours of the Hightowers, her wordless devotion to the King despite the fact that everyone around her wore black. Her hair was combed into an ornate, exquisite braid – he looked at her in disbelief and glanced at his wife.

She looked at her sister with her lips parted, her gaze expressing pain and disbelief.

Her sister looked like a copy of her.

He gave her a protracted, angry look when she finally approached their table, noticing only the same details that had caught his attention when she had come to his chamber that night to suck his cock.

Her face wasn't as smoothly formed, her hair wasn't as dark, her lips were shaped differently, her nose was rounded differently, her eyes weren't the same shade.

He felt like getting up and spitting in her face.

Floris bowed before his brother, on her face something that if he didn't know what she was capable of could be seen as gentleness and concern.

"My King." She said calmly, with a feigned humility from which his stomach twisted. "I come on behalf of my sisters to take our father's body to Storm's End. Know that we are blessed that he died in defence of the kingdom, protecting your brother, so inexperienced in matters of war after all −" She said calmly, and he felt his jaw clench in rage, fingers of his terrified wife squeezing his hand.

He thought he'd fucking kill this whore with his own hands.

"− I place in your hands my words of assurance that Storm's End remains faithful to you, my King." She said, bowing low, everyone at the table looked at her in shock. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his brother and froze.

He knew that gaze.

A gaze full of desire for love and acceptance, a gaze full of his stupidity and naivety.

He pressed his lips together in rage, knowing what it meant, that he had fallen for this cheap, feminine trick.

Floris didn't even know how much she had been hit with her appearance − by wanting to humiliate her sister, by dressing and combing like her, by wanting to show her her superiority and dominance, she had become, in Aegon's eyes, the perfect object of his desire.

A copy of his wife.

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Taglist 1

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