#v soft v homey

[tarjapearce]

Dr. Michael Stone (Pt. 2)

Art and Character by: Spiderthingcoo on X

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, forced voyeurism, body exploration, edging, double v penetration, female anatomy, rough and drugged induced sex, manhandling, substance abuse, 3some-ish, rimming (m receiving) nudity appreciation, breeding kink, a bit of dacryphilia, Objectification, overstimulation, filthyness undercut, no proofread, bit of cum play, bellybulge, electrocution, Michael is a sick fuck and I love him.

Miguelverse

Summary: Michael Stone has the time of his life.

A/N: I got too carried away and the fanart didn't help jskjs, hope you enjoy <3

Time ran at the speed of a snail. Each blink was torture, like you were removing seconds from the clock with each brief pause of your eyes.

How long have you been here? Certainly too fed up with trying in succeeding to escape. There was no punctual way to determine in which part of the day you were as there was no windows, no clocks, or anything of the sort that dictated the unstoppable force that always outlasted everything within reach.

Just dull pale grey walls, borderline white in every direction your sight stretched. Which wasn't much.

Your new habitat, was minimalistic, decored with the basics to sate physiological needs such as sleep, shower or pee. Ceiling too lowered to crawl or stretch your muscles properly when you tried to keep mobility going.

A fancy cage, nothing much, nothing less.

How long had it been since he slammed the door shut? Days? Week?

You didn't know. And the lack of a sense of time was irrevocably screwing with your head in a way it resembled how Michael had fucked your insides. There was no sun to bath in, no wind to blow and mess with your hair as you swung through the buildings, providing the right amount of adrenaline, no structures to crawl or stretch your muscles completely on. No external stimulus.Nothing.

Just a few meters of space that caged you like a live sample for a maniac's twisted experimenting and amusement. Fed and cleaned whenever you required it. It sometimes blurred the line between being a pet and a Guinea pig.

Just your cell, withering away your spirit. Even the food provided, lacked that homey seasoning you adored indulging in HQ's cafeteria after a mission. The only rift of color popping in the tray and around you were the vast array of vitamins and minerals, shaped in round and squared pills, nested within a metallic cup.

Cause according to him, if his offspring was to emerge within you, your body had to be properly nurtured. Ironically, the food was bland and tasteless, but you didn't starve. And it spooked you how easy your body took a liking to it.

Skin healthier, glowing and silky even, a soft natural flush dressed your cheeks, metabolism in its peak, a couple of pounds were lost, but that was the least of your concerns.

He was set into perfecting the vessel for his future seedling. You.

Michael was... You didn't even know where to start besides being the obvious doppelganger of Miguel. The only way you could tell them apart was because of his eyes. They were brown, like the most scrumptious shade of chocolate you've ever seen.

Unlike Miguel, he just took what he wanted and needed, everything in the name of science. He was the embodiment of 'the end justifies the means'.

Alluring, inviting you to a forbidden and fucked up world where he was the unanimous and dangerous sovereign. Like his whole aura. His impassive act was only a coy facade to hide what was underneath.

Madness, lust and something so dern you didn't want to try and decipher cause in truth, you were terrified to fuck around and find out. He had already gave you a little taste of his abyss, but it wasn't enough for him. He wanted you to drown in him and everything that rendered his mere existence.

He needed to crown a queen for his chaos. And what a better way to do it, than choosing you to give him a perfect offspring.

In his own twisted world the need of a superior being was a must. A need he was creating the proper foundation to sate.

He was prepping you to bare his child. And it scared you to no end. Not that you didn't want kids, but to be forced to fit into that role out of sudden scared you shitless.

And you didn't want to sour and make your thoughts awkward by knowing a variant of Miguel would be the father.

Fuck. No.

If your mind could have arms, it surely would've slapped itself for such thought. Not that you didn't think Miguel was handsome, in fact, you avoided being seen as that recruit that had the hots for the boss, lingering too much around him made you more nervous than you liked to admit.

And when you were paired with him, the anxiety of knowing you could mess up went heavenwards. Your Miguel wasn't one to dwell into conversations if they weren't necessary, canon before personal interests came first and always, awkward social skills that came out stilted and forced almost mechanically, specially when someone caught him off guard or in the high level of stress his gorgeous brain fed him on a daily basis.

Grumpy was his default emotional read, snarky or dry humored replies when dumb questions were asked, overworked to the bone. Secretly labeling himself as a bad man cause of the things he needed to do in order to keep the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse working, a walking failure through and through, weak for meeting his emotional needs and trying to be happy for once and failing at it, and apparently the only one that knew how to keep everything together.

And still, the first one that always replied the call for help by either sending a group, or creating an escape plan route to ensure your and the rest's safety with the help of Lyla.

Unlike him. The man in the flesh and bone, that would easily supplant him physically, and had been watching you ever since you awoke. You didn't have to turn to him to know his presence had invaded your already reduced and secluded space.

Brown coals raked over the slope of your neck, the dip between your shoulder and junction, gaze remained over your rising form in every disguised breath you took, hoping he'd go away. Long and tan fingers tangled softly in the silks of your hair and the touch alone made your skin crawl, and not precisely in a good and pleasant way, no.

Whenever he was around your spider senses tingled, sometimes you'd end up with a headache, unable to shut it off. You didn't have to look deep enough to know he was as messed up and unpredictable as the task he had bestowed upon you.

"Eres tan perfecta..." his impish titter made your heart wrench and anxiety to bubble in the deepest of your gut.

In other circumstances you'd be a flustered mess, flattered even to have such kind of man groveling over you. But this one in specific had you coiling away from his touch, hoping to vanish into thin air or turn invisible like Miles.

God, you really wanted to have Mile's invisibility powers right now, so at least you could have a chance to escape. But dreaming had gone out the window ever since he dumped you here.

He never lingered too much, even when he did routine checkups on you. Blood and other fluid samples were taken, he made sure you ate the bland and soggy looking food 'til nothing but crumbs were left, and then he'd leave to do whatever he did in the lab and wouldn't return until your next feeding time.

The only thing he had in common with your Miguel was the workaholic attitude. He'd spend hours if not days tinkering with canisters and things you low key feared to know their components. You've noticed the little parts of limbs floating in some recipients, none of them human.

What kind of things this Alchemax did? Cause the little you had seen so far wasn't nice nor pretty.

Alchemax took seriously their research, and with this man on charge, you didn't want to even think about what kind of ungodly horrors they harbored. There was a little slapping in the air as he removed his gloves, and it was your chance to crawl away.

Rough pads thrummed over your soft skin, sending shivers down your spine, breath hitched as he beckoned your forearm, the only part of you that budged, towards him in a demanding pull.

"Haven't had the time to properly examine these." he mumbled, more to himself than to you, as his thumbs squeezed soft circles, soothing the previous pressure's discomfort.

You gulped as he narrowed his eyes behind his glasses at the tiny circular slits indented in your wrist, a pale pinkish hue rimmed the tiny hole. The way he admired and looked with child-like wonder at your web shooters was overwhelming.

Cheeks grew warmer as the tip of his nose ran up your forearm to finally stop on the shooters. A soft salty musk emanated from them.

"Organic webbing... Fascinating." He crooned.

He closed his eyes to relish in the smell of your skin. A shaky breath came off your lips as his moist tongue rubbed a kitten lick on it, a bolt of electricity flooded your senses and earned him a whimper. Eyes immediately shifted on you, pupils widening.

Much to your dismay both had accidentally unveiled a borderline gruesome breakthrough. The twinkle in his eyes made your brows twitch in worry. Your neck gulped and his eyes caught the fraction of movement to then smirk.

Pearly whites shone with twisted pride upon the discovery.

"W-Wait-"

The tip of his tongue pressed harder on the slit and you couldn't help but moan. A lovely and surprising melody to his keen ears at your reactions.

Web shooters were a sensitive and therefore an erogenous area.

You tried yanking your arm away, but your knees trembled when he delivered a wriggle of the tip of his tongue, trying to worm into your veins, prodding and tasting unabashedly at your dint.

With every coil of his moist muscle your brain sparked alive, neurotransmitters soaring in wicked delight. Your teeth clamped on your lower lip, stifling another upcoming moan.

The wet sounds and pops of his mouth made your insides clench involuntarily. Legs smothered together, as he now sucked. His lips pursed in that familiar shape it reminded you the way he ate your engorged and sensitive nub.

Head split in two, fighting over what side of reasoning you'd agree with. One side was ashamed such ministrations from your wretched captor turned your unwilling body like puty within seconds in his dexterous hands, and with this newfound information, his power over you just increased tenfold.

Or aghast for allowing such thing, for allowing him to cage you against the bed and his formidable frame while he devoured and toyed with your wrists, and for him to make you feel revered like no man ever had, even if it was for the wrongest of reasons. Brown eyes stared at your countenance with such curiosity and enthrall, as if you were everything he needed. Like his prayers had been answered and delivered in silver platter with you on it, right in his hands.

It didn't help your shaky resolution he squeezed and draped his other thumb in your other slit. Rubbing in lazy circles, pressing the right amount to have your clit throbbing and your mouth panting. The vibrations of his low groan on your skin sent your brain in tiny shortcuts, your synapses were howling.

A shiny streak of his saliva connected with the left wrist. The irisdiscent shine of your webs connected to his bottom lip.

"Tad salty" His tongue licked the web away, His thumb moved in a back and fro motion, alternating between circles and soft licks from his thumb pad.

"Hnng-" Your toes curled in, as your hips stuttered but he grounded his even more on yours, preventing you from shifting too much.

"Stop squirming" He huffed, annoyed, trying to focus his sight on the tiny crevice.

"F-Fucking stop then" you panted in angry breaths

Michael smirked, genuinely amused at your unexpected reaction.

"Why would I? This is the most exciting part of the research."

Shit.

He took your other wrist and kissed the dent, your eyes went shut as he pressed both wrist above your head. Thumbs kneading with a bit more of pressure right above your tiny holes. And God, it was embarrassing hearing yourself mewl like a needy bitch.

How couldn't you notice such thing about yourself after so many years of being a Spiderwoman?

Fuck

And why the fuck were you about to cum while having your wrists stimulated? But more importantly, was he really having a boner by toying with you?

"God, you're a pervert..."

You couldn't help but mumble and he pressed tighter on purpose, sending a muffled whimper through your throat, silencing your yapping.

"I rather the term, Man of science, pequeña. Now stay fucking still."

But you couldn't, not when he kneaded so closely to a spot that send your mouth gaping like a fish out of water, begging to be thrown back in the liquid oxygen. He pressed two inches away from the bitty hole, and that was it.

Jaw clenched and your spine arched. His brow quirked with clinical curiosity at your thrashing despair. Breaths paused and shallow, still deciding whether to moan or sob.

"Nmh-Fuck, fuck, oh my god-" Your eyes rolled back, and your insides clamped. Brain vaporising any coherent thought, mouth too busy catching air and sputtering dumb babble at the consuming climax. Contracting and pulsing at nothing as the little dent squirted a silky and sticky rope towards the wall with a soft Thwipsh. He blinked nearly stupidly at what he had just achieved, cracking his apathetic stare for good.

"Dios mío..." He pressed again and again and you sobbed as the web spurted hapzardly, diverting in every direction and etching to whatever surface it touched or landed. He stared with wide eyes between you and the webs. Limp limb suspended in the air.

Toes curled and clenched at the bedsheets, attempting to anchor yourself at the overwhelming sensations that clouded your judgement. Head spun and buzzed with the thrill not even you achieved when handling those annoying reminders of your solitude in your own hands.

For once your spider senses tingled deliciously. His cock twitched almost painfully at what he just witnessed, he groaned and cupped your face to deliver a deep and breathtaking kiss.

"I knew someday, all my work would be rewarded. All those sleepless nights, those sacrifices, would bring someone like you to me."

He panted, examining you with wicked excitement, shaking you softly in his aroused wake.

"You and I, will create something so beautiful even God will be jealous!."

If it wasn't for the ominous meaning behind those words, you'd be amazed and moved at his overboard thrill. He rested his head on your lower belly, a dark grin plastered over his face, fingers padded your skin, warmth spreading through his hand.

Where are you, Miguel?

"I can't wait to see you swollen, carrying the future of this earth, pequeña."

I'm scared

But as quickly as he laid down, he bolted out of your cell, too enraptured in his musings to actually care for your rattled state.

Now that his motives were clear, your need to escape was greater. But maybe if you played your cards well, you'd have a chance.

I need you.

----

The table landed on the wall, shattering in smaller shards that splintered all over the place. Michael's back rose and tensed so tight, his lab robe wrinkled, trapping the fabric in between his muscles.

The corner of his lip twitched, almost like a tick, teeth menaced with baring, fury boiling underneath his skin. If he could, the steam would blow off his ears, but instead he prowled over your unsuspecting and sleeping form in the very back of the lab. Mind assaulting his reasoning with so many questions, but one in particular made his hands to clench into tight fist.

Why weren't you pregnant?

He had came inside in your most dangerous and fertile days, and still, you weren't pregnant.

As much as he was a patient man, he was throughly disappointed at his own failure. Was his seed defective? No.

He had run studies on himself and his results were everything a desperate man in need of children could ask for.

Fertile, fruitful, healthy.

And still, the screen shone brighter on the 'Negative' results.

Hot and furious breath fanned over the glass wall where he saw you sleeping. He'd have to run even more tests on you, start all over and wait for another two weeks.

But what if your body refused him again? Your womb's rejection was an open slap on his face, when he had been nothing but kind to you. He had been taking care of you with the best things, and this is how you repaid him.

It frustrated him beyond reason. But he was a patient man. Weeks were nothing compared to all the time he had already waited. With a final huff, he returned to his lab to correct your stupid hormonal imbalance that was costing him his valuable time and resources.

However, a Public Eye officer barged in, breath in his throat. His personal hounds, and whenever they came in, it only meant one thing. They had found something, and by the scratches and claw like marks on the officer's bleeding shoulder, meant it was something good.

You had to wait for a moment longer.

-----

"Lyla"

Miguel's gruff whisper came behind the corner of the structure he was in. Lyla appeared right on his shoulder.

"Any readings?"

"Some-" She froze for a second, "Ssft-"

Her yellow shade glitched to then appear right before him, she was speaking, but Miguel could barely understand her.

Fuck.

The place's interference was messing up with her programming. His gizmo popped with a message, your location. Beeping in a bright yellow dot within the ever tall and imposing Alchemax building in the middle of the city, like a watchtower.

Your last signal. Earth S-2015.

If you were here, he was sure you'd quip up something about a movie reference, something about a Mordor, whatever the thing meant, to lighten up the mood. He'd never admit it, but it always made him a bit curious as to what you watched or did to entertain yourself. The things you spoke were beyond absurd and still, he listened, inwardly pondering as to what kind of substances your universe used to get that sort of inspiration, but now there was nothing but silence at his side. And he grew tired of it.

No matter how much he had tried to recover or track you, the signal vanished into thin air. And he wasn't happy. At first he thought the gizmo's self restart feature would bring the signal back, but days kept passing, and nothing happened, he even went to the extent of rewiring the trinket's code to see if there was anything between lines, but there was nothing after the current location he was in.

Miguel swung through the buildings, avoiding the constant and alert drones soaring through the sky. Alchemax safety propaganda was plastered all over the place, but this earth's inhabitants looked everything but happy. Unlike his wonderful and manageable utopia he had helped to improve.

Fear was forever etched in their faces, constantly moving, never lingering too much around those mean looking officers. The Public Eye.

Their image all over the city, with low key subduing messages as 'Keep The order', 'Report any anomaly in the nearest station.' It set perfectly with the gloomy, authoritarian and heavy atmosphere of this universe. Chaos brewing in the darkness, awaiting to be unleashed.

His gut felt queasy. He might not have spider senses, but intuition never failed him. And right now it was telling him to find you and get the fuck out as soon as possible. Precisely in that order. He didn't want to pull out a Miles, even if he wanted to on this wretched world. Frustrating as it was, Earth S-2015 was a necessary evil, like his ruler and his major minion.

Not that you were incapable of fending for yourself, one of the main reasons he  didn't act right away, but knowing who was in this place, and the possibilities, made his chest constrict with a new wave of underlying anxiety and dread as  there was no Spider in this earth to protect it.

His watch buzzed a bit too late with a new message from Lyla.

RUN!!!!

A hoard of drones shoot his way, creating a sequential line of explosions, he dodged, tore, and crashed the drones against eachother, as if they were bugs pestering him.

"Look! Another one!"

Some officers didn't wait to appear and shoot their best shots at him. They fired and Miguel fought back, talons in hands, ripping and tearing flesh.

They had taken you, and a cold sweat ran down his spine.

Mierda...

He took one officer by his neck, masked face came into view as his teeth bared.

"The other one, where is she?!" he seethed but the man was stupid enough to oppose. He thrashed, which only added gasoline to Miguel's already blazing fury. Talons dug in the man's tender flesh, but even so, the officer had managed to impale a needle on his arm. It's liquid immediately melting into Miguel's muscles.

It stung.

With a hiss, Miguel let the man go, too focused on the sudden burning sensation spreading through his arm and body like a wildfire. Breathings took a couple of seconds to turn erratic, lights flickered and dances before his eyes.

Concéntrate, mierda! (Fucking focus)

The remaining officers jumped on him, using their subduing tools on him, an electrical shock here and there, a couple of stabs that had him kneeling, punches that definitely got all air out of his scorching lungs. It hurted to breath, to move, to see. His photophobia was rampant as lights were suddenly on him.

Miguel tried to cover his eyes but punches kept coming, he lunged and swung back to nothing but air, as his faculties were in a painful sensorial overload. The last thing he could manage in between blurry and prancing lights was the officer's wicked smile, stretching. Darkness claimed him.

----

"Me estás hartando, quédate quieta de una vez!" (I'm getting tired of this, stay still!)

The lack of exercising had made you slow, he didn't give you enough time to fight back when dragging you by the ankles while you were in the best of your nap. The alerts in your body kicked a bit too late, and like he had done before, his hips grounded yours, suffocating their squirming as his hand squeezed the wrists, needle menacing on his other hand, a pinkish liquid shook within.

"Fuck you!"

With a low growl he smashed your hands against the mattress, earning him a painful yelp, and it was his chance to sink the needle on your neck, a sting that immediately stifled your body, a brief itch spreaded through before turning into a cool shot of drug.

"Don't worry... We'll get to it later. But I need your body cooperating first."

You tried batting his hands away, but he held your face, and you gulped. He was staring.

Michael Stone was staring at you.

Thrill, joy, and something eldritch within his beautiful eyes. It scared as it intrigued you.

"What did you just put in me!?"

His nose nuzzled on the crook of your neck and crooned, "Nothing you should worry about, pequeña. Just a little enhance that will take my investigation to the next level."

His nose revelled up to your neck, body shuddering with the soft kisses left imprinted on your skin. It confused you.

One moment he treated you like the best thing he had ever had, and the next he manhandled you like a rag doll, pumping whatever substances he thought right into your bloodstream.

"Ger'off me!" A backlash and he chuckled.

"You're amusing. Might keep you as a pet once my child is born." He frowned suddenly, like if an idea had came into mind, pondering.

"Or not, I could grow it on my own... But, no no. It wouldn't be the same, wouldn't it?." His peering landed on your abdomen, ready to see it plump. "Call. me traditionalist in that way, but there is nothing more beautiful than seeing life growing within a perfect specimen." His eyes twinkled. 

"You're a sick fuck, you know that?"

"You loved having this sick fuck inside, pequeña. Your mouth might be spilling nonsense, but your cunt" He cupped it suddenly, shutting you up right away, "neither data lies."

A thick lump was swallowed down your throat.

"Rest well, I've got a surprise for you."

The smirk on his lips was everything but a good omen. And the heat increasing on your body didn't help. Hormones were slowly coming to a riot, spider tingle ringing harder for a moment.

Great.

Fingers rubbed on where he sunk the needle, wishing that for once he wouldn't use the thick ones. A tiny red smudge came into the pad of your fingertip.

Asshole.

----

Disgust, curiosity and repulsion.

Those were the main reads on Miguel's bruised face when Michael was before him, having a taste of his lips, but quickly backed up upon feeling the prong of his fangs grazing at his tongue. Miguel spat away his taste.

"Vete a la mierda, cabrón!" (Fuck you, asshole)

"Oh" His smirk went wider, almost wicked. He wasted no time in securing his grip on Miguel's chin to probe and poke at his mouth, revelling at every single thing within his structure.

"This is... perfect! With you and my vessel, we'll create-"

Michael jumped backwards as Miguel tried to lunge for him, but to no avail, chains clinked on his feet and wrists, restraining him.

"Now, now. What happened to that... friendly neighborhood thing your species used to preach? Is it a ruse?"

Miguel's fury burned brighter than the sun, he was ablaze, the Ethyl Chloride still railed within his bloodstream. He'd have to wait a bit more, just a bit for it's effects to leave his system and he'd free himself.

Never in his life had the urge of hurting someone came so strong on him, but he needed to be as collected as possible if he wanted to find you.

Even if his evil twin's hand roamed over his chest, measuring and probing his physiology. What's with everyone trying to get a piece of him?

His sight landed on something that undeniably belonged to you, a piece of your suit, under a microscope. Michael followed Miguel's line of sight and smiled, naturally, proud even.

"She's been a good specimen. The best one I've got so far."

A cold shudder ran down Miguel's back, eyes immediately on him, venom dripping in his words as they came out in a growl

"What have you done?"

Michael shrugged nonchalant, pride swelling up his chest. "Nothing but my work, Mr. O'Hara. And now that I've got you, you'll help me too."

"Te juro que si has hecho algo para lastimarla-" (I swear if you've done something to hurt her)

"Oh no, no. Im not that kind of monster." Michael tinkered with some tubes as he pulled a couple strands off Miguel's head. The Boss shook his head away from his tweezers.

"But she can get annoying sometimes. Nothing that pleasure helps to shut her up"

Miguel's eyes went wide, horror and anger in tandem within his crimson gaze.

His talons poked out, itching to tear the man before him, until he was nothing but bloody chum, fuck the canon, fuck this dimension. He'd do everyone a favor, unlike the first time he broke the rules.

"But dread not. Tonight is very special" Michael smiled at Miguel, but it didn't reached his eyes. The same pink liquid he injected on you was now flowing in Miguel's veins, thanks to thw needles in his shackles.

"Mating season is around the corner , isn't it?"

Miguel scowled, wary as Michael made his arms and legs restricted to the metallic wall of his confinement, hitting his head in the process. A wave of pain invaded Miguel's skull.

"I won't hurt her, no. But I won't allow you to take her away from me."

Michael pressed a button, sending shockwaves through Miguel's body, suit glitching out, until it disappeared, leaving a bare, righteous doppelganger of himself at his feet, panting, gritting his teeth and growling in pain.

Michael leered at Miguel unabashedly, smoke oozed from his shimmery tan skin, and the madman nodded, pleased.

"You spider-folk are unique and wonderful creatures indeed."

It was the last thing Miguel heard before another electrical and unexpected shock subdued him to darkness.

----

Miguel

His mind was a puddle. Nothing coherent could properly take shape in his brain. His body was heavy, doused in a borderline painful heat, the same sort of feeling he'd get once his body entered this spider-like urge to mate.

Miguel!

The voice calling him was familiar, but it's tinge sent a delicious pulsation right to the tip of his already twitching cock.

Wake up!

Leaden-lids parted enough to take in his surroundings again, consciousness returning to his empty body. But as it did, the strong tidal waves of his arousal drowned him in.

It didn't help he kept hearing these delicious mewls and pants, begging for him to do something simple as to wake up. The constant slaps of flesh and the breathless moans made a trail of precum escape his flushed and sensitive tip. Thick veins decored his pulsating girth, aching painfully to sink in something. To be wrapped in nothing but snug zeal.

"F-Fuck... Wake up, please!"

Another garbled moan that ended in an acute whimper. And that made him growl. His toes curled in, bleary sight finally taking focus on what was going on.

He could only blink at the scene. Stupid and high in need. Dying to be free and unleash himself.

"Ohmygod-" you hiccuped, watching him, flushed cheeks, mouth gaping and panting, exhaling deep and sweet mewls his body yearned to induce

"Miguel!"

You called, waking him up despite your insides getting a good rearrangement by Michael. The latter was too keen in watching his reaction as he smacked himself against you, his cheeks reddened in want.

You were spreaded like a book ontop of the sitting madman, back colliding with his bare chest, hands cuffed within two metallic hoops, hooked behind Michael's head; cunt swallowing him inside, choking with his continuous thrustings, slapping the back of your ass over and over as his hands kept your thighs apart and close to your chest, providing Miguel with a 4K image of your bullied and glistening pussy.

The way Michael pushed in so swiftly made Miguel's cock to erupt with another pre cum bead. Your breast swayed and bounced at the rough pace settled underneath. A rhythmic slap, like a perfect metronome for an obscene and wet melody.

The little rational part of Miguel told him, demanded him to look away. To spare you some shame, but his body had been rewired in such way he was unable to tear his oggling away, cause he could feel the need to break the chains and do a better job than Michael. He'd destroy you. He needed to.

Michael's hands made you hold the back of your own thighs, so he could plow deeper. And your spine arched as your toes curled, legs shook and a sweet acute cry echoed through the lab, announcing your first orgasm.

Miguel's sore cock twitched. Begging him to jump into action. His mouth watered as your pussy swallowed Michael's cock so deep and tight that a frothy, creamy ring nested at the base of his tightened balls, contracting as the madman came inside your snug hole.

Your arousal awakened a primal need in him, to the point that his talons dug in the fat of his palm, cutting skin and bleeding, like his bottom lip. Plump mouth heaved, his throat rumbled with gutural growls the more he stared, hypnotized at your post-bliss face.

Miguel whimpered, like a kicked dog, a deep flush invading his heaving countenance.

"Seems the serum is also making effect"

Michael slicked his hair back and gave an excited sigh, "I think it's time to see his performance, right?"

Michael pushed you away from his body, Bambi-like legs failed their attempt to hold your whole frame. You fell on the ground with a wheeze. Miguel immediately lunged, but his restrains held him back, prevented him from achieving his main goal.

Crimson eyes turned darker, nearly matching Michael's. The latter pressed a button and the collar on Miguel fell with a clank on the floor.

"M-Miguel" it was difficult to find your voice when it was scrapped raw and dry, but still, you had to try.

"We... we gotta leave. Do you hear me?"

Of course he did, but his mating cycle was on peak, thanks to Michael. He had messed up the natural process by accelerating his heat prematurely.

Why would he leave when he was about to wreck you?

His feet were unlocked. You gave Michael a pleading look while trying to crawl away. When the last lock clicked free, your breath hitched.

It felt like a slow motion as you looked over your shoulders, marked with hickeys Michael left. Pupils wide blown as Miguel lurched forward, stalking and hovering over you. Cock smearing his pre cum in whatever skin it landed, marking you with his scent as he  manhandled your hips up, aligning them with his girth.

His hand was big enough to keep your whole head on the floor. Michael cackled as Miguel sunk in deep in a powerful roll of his hips, earning a stuttering grunt through clenched teeth from you.

The fat of your ass trembled, your clasped hands curled underneath your torso, in dire need of holding onto something, cause Miguel merciless plows were fucking any coherent thought.

Your whole body shook underneath him, cunt ever tight, your juices and Michael's cum made him easier to delve in a pace you knew would scrap your knees, cause he wasn't stopping nor waning.

Michael circled you both, hand on his cock, stroking himself at the sheer display of primal desire. The whole show made him hard, specially when seeing your engorged clit peeking underneath Miguel's jackhammering frame, flushed from the unceasing beating the hero's balls provided it.

"Just like that" Michael husked, and whimpered as you did nothing but sputter nonsensical and lewd blabbering.

Miguel's fingertips sunk tighter as they grope your hips firmly to keep you from lurching forward, despite him plunging into you with abandonment, as if with every thrust he'd say take it.

Take it for disobeying.

Your toes curled in and your jaw slacked open, unable to keep it together.

Take it for not following instructions.

"M... Mig-"

Bendito... He was just starting and you were already clamping onto him in a grip so tight it only matched the way he was holding your beautiful and generous hips.

"You're almost there, Mr. O'Hara! Keep it going!"

One specific thrust had your eyes watering and rolling back. A pathetic and incomplete scream made Michael to kneel behind you both. His eyes were too dazed in how Miguel fucked you. Dancing up and down, like the strokes of his hands on his cock.

Miguel secured your head in a tight headlock that cut your air supply enough to clench on him, again. Strong biceps trapped your airy head, clouded with a biting desire that came stronger every time you breathed.

Michael groaned when Miguel pulled a last thrust, sheathing to the hilt, forcing a powerful and milky kiss on your cervix. The madman's mouth wasted no time to sink in between Miguel's firm glutes, tasting him, squeezing and pushing him towards his face, tongue fucking the tight hole, earning a low but stuttering growl from a surprised Miguel. Glasses fogging at the rising temperature.

"Fucking delicious." He mumbled with a smack of his lips to focus his attention in your flushed and sensitive cunt. When Miguel pulled out, Michael was already pushing him away, to then prowl at your throbbing cunt, gathering the leaking cum on his tongue, revelling in the taste as he pushed it back inside with a soft dribble.

"W-Wait" You hissed, his moist muscle had been wonderful once, but right now it felt rough. Flesh too sensitive to the touch.

Miguel staggered, body overridden with a relentless urge to be inside you again, but his body screamed for a rest, the venom still lingered on his muscles. Michael on the other hand, cradled and sunk you once more ontop of him.

"The more you take, the more chances you'll get pregnant are." He explained underneath you. Tears rolled down your flustered cheeks, overstimulated and pearled, glowy skin by the thin layer of sweat etched in every slope and dint in your body.

Michael licked them with a groan while his hips smacked yours in a slow but deep, deep rut, pulling the last coherent thoughts through muffled groans and hiccuping mewls, while you shook your head vehemently.

"You're so perfect, pequeña"

"T-Too much" you croaked

Michael sunk you in a swift move, as his slapping hips met yours upwards, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"No, no. you can. You're strong, bonita. You can take me." His crooning was eerie, yet so alluring it blurred the line between monster and devotee.

Pleasure clung to your brain with such force it was dizzying. Every pore of your body oozed with the pheromones the serum produced, creating a tantalizing smell that lured Michael and Miguel's attention.

The grumpy hero could only watch you squirm as another cock that wasn't his, wrecked your insides in a tortuous pace.

"Fuck" He grunted, feeling the consuming and mind numbing drug licking at every inch of his cinnamon skin, imploring to feel you again.

Even though the Ethyl Chloride's effect had been long gone, the serum reacted to your pheromones. Meaning he'd need to provoke one more peak to have the effects completely worn out.

He'd feel sorry and awful all he wanted later, his priority was to get you out of this madman's claws. But...

It was impossible not to think in how good you felt, how delicious your whole body contorted while witnessing the way Michael subdued you to ride him as he captured one of your nipples in his urgent mouth. Lovely and plump bumps of flesh jiggled at the tempo, outer folds that without a doubt would be so sensitive to the touch, parted and guzzled Michael's veiny cock.

Miguel crawled to you both.

How well you had taken them each., Adjusting perfectly at their sizes, like a perfect flesh sleeve.

He hovered over the both and smoothed away the strands of hair that stuck on your flushed and gorgeously fucked out face.

The heat was consuming, and Michael's pace wasn't enough. The madman noted you were reaching the peak of the serum functionality as you urged your wobbly hips clumsily on his.

Despite you not being able to properly verbalise your pleasure, you still sought it. Michael's wicked fantasies came true when Miguel pushed you tighter against him, as if wanting to flush your body and Michael's as one being, just to have a proper glimpse of the sight that had him guiding his tip towards your already stuffed entrance.

Detente (Stop)

But he couldn't, he couldn't stop himself from entering you, knees flexing as he lowered his pelvis, pushing inch my inch deeper. Earning an ascending pleasurable wail from you.

Your eyes widened and your jaw clenched, baring your teeth as he also sheathed inside, womb so full it bulged.

Michael's laugh echoed through the room. Everything had came as planned.

"Let's make you a wonderful mother, mi pequeña."

Oh my god.

A panting groan escaped as Michael moved in first, igniting the painfully delicious friction inside you. He wasn't only stimulating you, but Miguel as well. The snug crevice too tight for them to coexist in peace, yet there they were, fighting over who pulled the last peak and thread of rationality out of you.

Their cocks pumping and prodding had your spine arching. Miguel grabbed a fistful of your front strands and pulled backwards, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, letting your chest exposed to Michael. He wasted no time into pushing both of your breasts together, tongue alternating between the left and right.

Sucking, lapping, wriggling his hot muscle on your taut peaks, making a mess out of them by creating more hickeys in every inch of salty tasting visible skin.

"Michael!" You whimpered and it was enough for Miguel to plow harder. The sinful makeout session of their cocks inside your walls made you pant, beg and laugh like a total loon.

A streak of saliva escaped the corner of your gaping mouth. Head lolled back and fro, fried brain with the lust both men induced you, floating on cloud nine. You didn't want to come down to earth, much less when Miguel and Michael's groans and moans over you, urged you to be the best cum dumpster ever.

Miguel pulled your handcuffed hands underneath your chin, beckoning your lips to his. His mouth suffocated any future moan as you bounced on both.

Your one and only boss didn't need you wailing his name to know you ached for him. But Michael was set into having a proper taste out of you both.

He pulled you closer, pushing deeper inside you. Michael's lips erased all trace of Miguel's on yours, to then kiss Miguel. To his surprise, Miguel didn't oppose, too gone in the sensations this mass of tangled limbs offered.

Michael hands roamed your body and Miguel's, feeling his own climax approach.

Hearing Miguel's animalistic growls on your ear, made your clit throb. He pounded with every fiber of his body, urging you to reach the stars and play with them.

Your cunt soaked them, too wrecked and ruined to care. Like your mind. It didn't matter who fucked better, all your body asked was fresh cum, deep in your womb.

The serum coaxed you to move faster, almost matching the rhythm of their whomps. The sound of your greedy and drooling hole being battered was music to their ears.

Michael whimpered and his spine arched, finally reaching his peak, spurting his hot sticky scent inside. Miguel hissed and held Michael close, watching him.

Limbs nearly cramped as they curled in, hands fisted tightly on each side of his trembling body, eyes rolled back, mouth panting, head too heavy to think straight. And that's when Miguel sunk his fangs on his neck, injecting his paralyzing venom on his bloodstream.

A pornographic and slurred moan erupted from Michael, his wicked smirk widened as his body slowly but surely, lost all control of his nerves, unable to command them to move.

Miguel had to resist the urge to come inside. He knew he had a couple of minutes before Michael regained mobility, and as heavenly as you felt, he pulled out of you, drowning his orgasm with regained self control, earning a small hissing as he pulled you out too, gently, off Michael.

Legs and body refused to cooperate. With clumsy steps he stood, taunting the surfaces for support. He slanted against the table, gasping for air.

Miguel shook his head and threw a quick look to Michael, still on the floor, but now groaning in discomfort. Even his tongue had numbed out.

Miguel didn't waste time and sauntered over the next table where pieces of his gizmo laid neatly arranged in a metallic tray. He swept them all in a container, along the tubes filled with his samples.

Like Hobie, he took other parts of machinery in a quickened pace to finally grab a couple of lab robes. He wore one and covered your overworked body, to then throw you above his shoulder.

"Nos vamos." (We're leaving)

Michael groaned, loudly. Anger was felt in every gurgle his throat did. Despair widened in the only thing that still remained movable in his numb face. They darted between you and Miguel, begging him to leave you there.

He groaned again, losing sight once Miguel swung with you from a window.

"Hold on tight if you can" Miguel's voice cooed as you two escaped.

-----

Michael had to douse some pain killer spray on the two slits done in his neck.

How could he not forsee this? How could he miss something so obvious that ended up messing his one decade old plan?

He let his emotion get the best out of him, fouling up his usual calculating judgment, replacing it with excitement.

A Public Eye squad remained before him, awaiting for his orders.

"Find them. I need the woman alive, understood?"

"What about the... other one? The monster?" The same officer Miguel had sliced through and marked, spoke.

The lights in the screen gave Michael a sinister red hue on his face, light reflecting on his glasses.

"He's not a monster, Johnson." Dr. Stone smirked, copying your information in his database, "There can't be two of us."

Johnson, the captain, nodded. The squad obeyed, and the hunt was on.

-

Taglist: (I apologize if your blog isn't able to be tagged, tumblr is... tumblr)

@smokeywhalee @maomaimao @beingdeluluisthesolulu @byjessicalotufo @darkfairy102190 @angel-of-the-moons @bunnibitez @decaffeinatedplaidwinnersoul

@thealleydog @sariespi @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @barryatsumu @missylo @fistsuptitsup @lazy-idate @crimsonriot06-7 @uraritychain @little-lovelace @llama--drama @deathlypickles @cupidojenphrodite @@nostalgicdaira @homewreckingwreck @millliko  @tatatida @melday0105 @scaryplanetdestroyer @minispidey @miranexx @migueloharacumslut @keepghostly @ion-news @misswonderfrojustice @kishimiest @prctty-birdie @migueloharacumslut @the-true-tato-god @1biggestsimpofalltime @catfwngz @drefear

#t writes✨ #Michael Stone #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel spiderman

[lilywastaken]

⇝ midnight .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART ONE OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: Simon makes the mistake of spending the night before one of the longest missions of his career in the arms of a woman he met at a pub, unaware of the consequences it would have on his life moving forward.

WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!) NSFW [ Oral (F receiving), Degradation, Praising, size difference/kink, dacryphilia, dumbification, slight bondage, frottage, unprotected P in V, overstimulation, various orgasms, creampie.], Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of abortion, kind of OOC Simon? He’s just soft when he’s not Ghost, Canon typical violence.

A/N: My first COD fic! It also happens to be the longest piece of writing I've ever done 😵! This is the first part of a series I've been planning on writing for a while, so I'll hopefully get the second part out soon! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the fic, it helps a lot!!! Thanks for all the support!! <3

WORD COUNT: 10.1k.

MASTERLIST.

Also on Ao3!

Going out wasn't one of Ghost's favourite things to do.

Even after getting back to his tiny flat in Manchester following a horribly long mission and shedding his mask, going back to the burly man his neighbours knew as Simon, some random guy who had moved in a few years ago and seldom stepped outside except for the random smoking session some of them would see him having on his balcony; he didn't enjoy going out.

So when he finally was able to relax onto his shitty leather sofa and catch up with some of the footy games he had missed while away, all he wanted more than anything was a good whiskey in his favourite (cleanest) glass.

And almost like a cartoon character staring at their empty wallet, Simon stared ahead at his liquor cabinet, jaw clenched as he spied at the remaining drops of alcohol that were left in the bottle, remembering the mental note he had made before leaving his flat the last time to get himself the alcohol he had chugged down during one of his depressive episodes.

So, in a fit of anger, he shoved on whatever clean clothes he could find in his duffle bag, skull balaclava pulled over his messy hair, and stomped down the stairs to the nearest Tesco…

…only to find it closed.

And fuck him if he was going to walk the extra hour to the nearest Morrison's just to get some shitty whiskey bottle to drown his sorrows in. At this point, he'd just go and sit in a corner of a pub, nursing what he would hope would be an acceptable liquor.

He was absolutely pissed by the time he made it into the homey bar, the universe having decided to make it it's personal mission to fuck him up today and making the worst storm possible start to rain upon Manchester.

Oh, and of course, the pub's tables were all full of teenagers (who definitely had fake IDs, no way they were all 18), and some old geezers who were shouting at the football game on TV (great, Manchester was loosing, another thing to worsen his night), leaving the only available seat one in the middle of the bar next to some woman chatting amicably to the waiter, who seemed a bit more interested in her cleavage than in what she had to say.

He slipped into the seat silently, his clear eyes death-staring into the bartender's, immediately scaring him shitless ("Yer about ta kill me with that look, Lt." Johnny had once joked about his murderous gaze, and to be fair, Simon was slightly hoping the scot would combust and die right there.), no doubt believing that he was with the woman and was about to punch his teeth in for staring longer than he should have.

As he scurried off into the back, you turned to him, taken aback at first as you made eye contact with the towering, wet, balaclava-clad man who was staring back at you, but you were brave enough to smile kindly at him, going back to running your finger over the rim of your drink, which Simon noticed was still and hardly drank out of, despite the lipstick smudges around the top. You'd been here a while, and by the way your leg was nervously jumping up and down as time passed by, he could only assume you'd been stood up.

Now, Simon wasn't dumb, far from it; and Simon was smart enough to recognize when someone was attractive, and he was pretty sure that the woman in front of him was drop-dead gorgeous despite the sad look that adorned your features. So, if he was correct, he couldn't even begin to fathom how someone could even start to think of standing up a woman like you, especially after inviting her to this shitty pub, where the food had definitely given him food poisoning before.

He hadn't realised how deep in thought he must have been while staring at your glass until a soft hand rested against his bicep, eyes instantly flashing back towards yours, instincts haywire from having been pulled out from his thoughts so suddenly.

"Sorry!" You immediately retracted your hand from his arm, smiling apologetically up at him before turning your gaze back to the golden liquid. "I asked if you were okay. I can't imagine walking around in a storm with just that on." You gestured towards his shirt, allowing Simon to look down and stare at the tight T-shirt he had chosen to wear, a few dirt stains decorating it in the worst way possible, having dressed for the occasion that was a 10pm trip to Tesco and not meeting up with a pretty woman at a pub.

"Wasn't planning on walking 'round." He grumbled out, his voice deeper than what you had expected, the thick accent and scratchy sound of it making shivers run down your spine and heat pool into your stomach, becoming horrified with yourself that you allowed such a minimal thing like a masked man's voice get you all hot and flustered like this.

"'Nd you? Doesn't seem like you're dressed for a night out at the Crown's." His eyes moved towards your dress, surprised with himself that he had actively been the one to continue the conversation; his thick hand reaching over to grab his drink from the bartender's hand (which he must have ordered during the haze he had been in before.) as he awaited your answer.

"Oh." He watched you smooth down your hair out from the corner of his eye, your hands shaky as they found comfort around the fancy glass of your whiskey. Or was it bourbon? Maybe rum? You seemed like the type of woman to appreciate a good glass of liquor. "Yeah, 'm waiting for someone."

He watched your eyes dart over to the clock hanging on the wall opposite you both, the little hand nearing the number 11.

"Could've taken you somewhere nicer." He commented, taking a jab at both the pub and your missing date, the small breathless chuckle that left your lips catching his attention.

"Yeah. Not like I expected a reservation at the Ritz, but somewhere that doesn't look like my grandad's favourite pub would be nice." You joked over the sound of some of the old men cheering in the background over some team scoring a goal, and while Simon would've normally turned around to make sure it had been Manchester, he was too focused on the mesmerising way your eyes looked in the dim light, your eyelashes fluttering innocently as you continued what had started as small talk, that evolved into friendly conversation and him buying you another drink, and that ended with him waiting for you outside the bathrooms, holding onto your tiny umbrella.

Simon wasn't one to frequent in hook-ups, but how enticing you had been when talking to him, the way your body looked in that dress and how you'd brushed your soft hand against his bicep (this time with another intent other than to snap him out of his stupor), had left him wanting, nay, craving more from you.

So when you looked out the window behind him before gesturing to the small umbrella hanging from your bag and asked if he wanted to take you home, he would have been demented to deny you.

His screen's brightness lit up his face as he scrolled over the scarce messages he had received across the almost 10 years he had had this crappy phone, about to delete Soap's number before you came out, a smile on your face and makeup freshly applied.

"Some girls helped me with my makeup in there." You commented happily, fingertips brushing over the blush that had been applied to the apples of your cheeks, which made you somehow look even more enticing than before. "I didn't have time to look in the mirror, but I hope it looks okay."

"Looks nice on you." He let out after processing your new look, his chest tightening as your smile somehow widened and your eyes brightened, having learned across the few hours you had spent together that Simon wasn't really one to show his emotions towards anyone, so a short compliment like that was a big step.

"You think?" You didn't wait for an answer, your hand finding his and starting to lead him out of the shadowy corner he had taken refuge in while your time in the bathroom, letting him push open the exit door so he could open up the umbrella, not caring about the raindrops falling onto him and darkening his clothes, the rain getting caught onto his eyelashes like morning dew on a spiders web, the beautiful orbs drawing you in like a butterfly happily flying into a spider's nest.

The umbrella was open and poised on top of you before you could even step out of the pub, Simon doing his best so you wouldn't be touched by the rain, aware of how uncomfortable some people got when it came to water running down your back or touching your face (especially when you looked so so pretty with your make-up.). Along with his massive frame walking next to you, you were pretty sure there was no way a single drop of water would touch your skin the whole way back home.

Which ended up being almost silent, you leading the way and commenting on random stores or things you passed, brightening up every time you got a chuckle out of him and melting whenever his hand would wrap around your waist as you passed some creepy man or a suspicious-looking group of teens, pulling you into his side so no one would even think of messing with you.

You were highly aware of how dangerous it was in hindsight to take some random man home (whose face you hadn't even seen yet!), but Simon made you feel safe, special, in some weird way… like as long as you were in his vicinity, nothing could happen to you, nothing could harm you. And you wanted to cling onto that feeling, onto the feeling of protection and warmth that Simon extruded.

So you didn't think twice about it, even as you slipped the key into the front door to your apartment complex and stood next to him the whole elevator ride up to your floor, his hand curled around yours with his thumb rubbing over your knuckles, the soft action enough to make heat pool into your tummy and your panties, getting worked up over casual affection from the breathtaking man.

"Y'sure about this, lovie?" His raspy voice made you fumble with your keys as he came up behind you, watching you struggle to unlock your flat as his breath hit your ear. "Tell me to leave and I will. Last chance."

Your breathing grew shaky as his own warmed your cheek, the way he worded it making it seem like the act you were both about to perform was something akin to letting a beast free, and even if it was, as long as Simon was the one to do it, you would have let him do anything.

"Yes." You managed to get out as your door finally opened, not even getting the time to take a step in before his hands were all over you, pushing you into the apartment and slamming the door closed behind him with his foot, his balaclava somehow being pulled up to his nose, high enough so you could gaze upon his soft pink lips and the blond stubble that adorned his chin and slightly crooked nose, aware that you would have spent hours tracing his features with your eyes, engraving them to memory, but he took away any thoughts away from you as he slotted his lips with yours.

You learned immediately that Simon's kisses were desperate, sloppy, needy. The way his hands gripped at your hips and his teeth nibbled onto your bottom lip, tongue running over yours as he trailed his palms down your thighs onto your feet, wrenching off your heels and ripping apart your tights, ignoring the angered whine that left your lips.

"Easier access, lovie." He murmured against your lips, finally pulling back with a sleazy grin on his lips, a string of spit connecting you both before breaking, allowing you a bit of time to catch your breath while he took in your living room, staring at the doors. "Bedroom?"

"Th- That one-" You hazardly pointed towards one of the doors behind you, squealing out loud as he grabbed you effortlessly and started to carry you towards your room, thighs pressed to his sides and ankles crossed behind his back, making sure to cling onto him so he wouldn't randomly drop you (Although by the way his muscles barely tensed when he had picked you up, and how easily he seemed to navigate around while carrying you made you think that there was no way he'd let you fall.)

Your back finally hit your familiar soft mattress, hands clenching onto your silk sheets as he watched you like a hawk, hands resting on the space of your thighs near your now-dripping cunt, thumbs rubbing into the soft pudge.

"Fuck… Just look t'you." He rumbled out, your cheeks growing warm as he continued to stare without moving, enjoying the way you started to squirm beneath his touch. "Calm, lovie, jus' taking my time wiv' you."

You mewled out at the deep tone his voice took, thighs threatening to close as one of his hands made his way towards your clothed cunt, which had been made accessible thanks to your now-ripped tights that had been left behind in the living room.

Simon forced your thighs back open with a grunt, glassy eyes darkening as he watched your own hands come up to cover your face out of embarrassment, letting himself soak in it for a moment before finally starting to act.

"Lean up f'me." You obeyed immediately, trembling under his touch as he slowly pulled your dress off, letting it pool onto the floor along with his shirt, which he had quickly gotten rid of as soon as you were in your lingerie. His eyes roamed the lace for a moment before letting out a dry chuckle, looking up at you to find you ogling at his scarred chest, almost drooling at the sight of his well built pecs and stomach. "Tryin' to get lucky tonight?" He spoke, fingers snapping your bra strap, thinking back to why you were originally at that pub in the first place.

"Shut up." You grumbled, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him up the bed so you could continue kissing him, having been left craving more ever since that breathtaking one in the foyer.

He didn't complain, quickly indulging you as he slotted his lips with yours once again, his kiss as sloppy as needy as before, openly moaning against them as your hands run under his balaclava to pull at the short strands of his coarse hair, his own hands wrapping your thighs around his waist so your clothed pussy could grind against the hard material of his trousers over his hardened cock, rejoicing in the way your moans and whines sounded as he drank them up.

"S'needy." He chastised softly as he pulled away, moving you both towards the top of the bed so you could rest your head on your pillows, catching your breath while he started slipping off his belt and trousers (the belt being placed on the bed, just in case), and letting you gaze upon the tent in his boxers, shivering at the monstrous sight of his cock, trying to imagine how in the living fuck would he fit inside you if he couldn't even fit properly in his boxers, pulling out a moan from your lipstick smudged lips at the simple thought of being fucked by such a tool.

"Like it?" He chuckled, slowly starting to lean down with his hands on your thighs, pulling one of them over his shoulder so he was face to face with your covered cunt, his breath warm as it hit your clit, making you whine. "Gunna let me have a taste?"

"Y-Yes, god, yes, Simon, please-" You breathed out all at once, desperate for his touch after the slow teasing, watching what was visible of his face scrunch up in mock laughter as he revelled in your whines.

"As you wish, lovie."

He didn't even bother pushing your panties aside before taking a lick of your cunt from bottom to top, pressing soft kisses to your clit to hear your desperate whines and feel your thighs shake beneath his touch, continuing to slowly make out with your clothed pussy, purposefully driving you insane with his limited touches.

"Off, off, pl-please, Si, please -" You whined, pushing his head away in an attempt to start to pull your panties down, crying out in frustration as he didn't budge, a growl leaving his lips and sending vibrations up your cunt.

"Don't touch. I'm taking my fucking time, pretty. Or would you rather me stick my cock into you without any prep?" You moaned out loudly at the thought, back threatening to arch as he slowly grasped at your panties, a humourless chuckle leaving his pretty lips. "Yeah, I bet your slutty pussy'd love that, wouldn't it, lovie?" He purred before finally sliding down your pants, taking a moment to stare at your cunt and let you squirm before slowly spreading your thighs again, immediately shoving his face into his prize and repeating his movements from before, but faster and rougher, letting you feel every inch of his tongue as it ran over your lips and slowly inched inside of your hole, your moans and silent screams only edging him further on until he took your engorged clit into his mouth and started sucking, placing a hand on your stomach and pushing your arching back down onto the mattress.

He was surprised, to say the least. Yes, he'd realised you were sensitive as soon as he had kissed you for the first time, but he hadn't expected you to almost burst into tears from being eaten out (He wasn't even /trying/ to make you cry, he wondered what would happen if he did.), so he wondered if all the men you'd been with before had gone down on you, but by the way you were reacting to such simple touches, he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

"So fuckin' sweet, baby." He murmured into your pussy as he let go of your swollen clit, giving your hole some attention as the hand that was on your tummy ran down to circle your clit, overstimulating you in the best way possible. "Taste like fuckin' heaven."

"Si- Simon-" you whined his name out so so sweetly, music to the normally cold lieutenant's ears. "Gonn- Fuuuck! 'Na cum! Please, please, Si, need to-"

"S'okay, let go for me, lovie." He basically purred into you as he continued licking contently at your gushing hole, fingers tactically rubbing on your clit, before changing spots, taking your clit back into his mouth and letting his fingers slip in to you, preening at the sweet gasp that left your lips at the sudden intrusion, his coarse fingers moving in and out and immediately finding that one spot that made your back arch and toes curl, and just as he was taught in the military, he took advantage of the weak spot (in this case, your sweet spot.) and didn't stop brushing his fingers against it, the increasing sound of his name alerting him of your upcoming orgasm.

And once the coil within your stomach snapped and Simon finally let your back arch of the bed, your release gushing out of you and coating his hand and wrist, you let out the loudest moan of his name, the sound immediately going to his painfully hard cock, but he didn't stop, tongue not ceasing its assault on your clit and fingers continuing to rub against your g-spot until you finally came down from your high, brain mushy and eyes glassy as you stared up at the cream ceiling.

"Such a good girl." He purred out as he finally stopped, retracting his wet fingers and taking them into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and cleaning off all of the slick you had left from your orgasm, savouring it like he would with a lollipop. "Fuckin' taste amazing."

You whined in response, the embarrassment from having cummed so fast and having to watch him lick up all your release finally catching up to you, shaky hands moving to cover your sweaty face.

He clicked his tongue, grabbing them before they could cover your pretty features and holding them together in one hand.

"No, baby. Don't want you fuckin' hiding f'me." He snapped, slowly pulling them upwards so that they were pinned against the headboard, his other hand moving to gather the belt he had discarded not so long ago, quickly taking advantage of your cum-lax state to wrap it around your wrists, making sure it was tight enough to constrict you, but not tight enough to hurt, and letting you lie there while he started on getting rid of his boxers. "Wanna see that pretty face while you come undone on my cock. Isn't that what y'want too?"

You tried moving your head to nod, but it felt so so heavy that even the slightest movement felt like a chore, feeling grateful that Simon was a man able to move you around and dominate you without even breaking sweat, that all you needed to do was lie back and enjoy everything he gave you.

"Fuckin' hell. Not even fucked ya yet and you're 'lready gone?" He sneered, coming to hover over you so he could press wet kisses to your cheeks and neck, purposefully avoiding your lips. "Pretty girl gets her pussy played wiv and turns into a right proper slut, don' she?" He purred against your neck, his words making you shiver and squirm as your body instinctively tried to move away from the stimulus, only for him to pull you back towards him with grubby hands, a loud gasp leaving your lips as he pressed your crotches together, having expected the soft cotton of his boxers and not the hard, hot feeling of his cock flush against your dripping pussy.

"Oh- Oh my god, Simon, th-"

"Mm." He cut you off with a soft purr and a nip to your jugular, no doubt making sure that you'd wake up in purple marks the next morning as he did the same all over your neck. "'S me. All me, lovie. F'you."

You moaned at the implication, slowly starting to grind yourself against him as he made it his personal mission to cover your upper body in kisses, stopping at your clavicle and staring down at your bra, that was still to be taken off.

"Fuck, forgot all 'bout these." His hand came up to squeeze one of them softly, a small sound of pleasure leaving your lips at the added stimulation as you continued to rub your cunt against his hardened cock. "Pretty little things."

He started grinding his own hips against yours, watching with amazement at how quickly you reacted to his touch, your back arching enough for him to slip his hands behind and unclasping your bra suspiciously easy, pulling it off and throwing it behind him and landing god knows where, and leaving you finally completely bare beneath him.

"Look t'you." His warm hands immediately cupped your tits, thumb and pointer rubbing your nipples between them, pinching and pulling until they were hard, an amazed chuckle leaving his lips as he listened to your moans increase in sound, his grinding against you not ceasing either.

"Oh fuck- fuck fuck!" It was embarrassing, how quickly he had you whining and mewling beneath him, when you had found yourself struggling before to even feel something with men before him doing the same. It was just something about him, something about the way he sounded and touched, the precise movements against you, almost like he had been trained for your pleasure, to get you over the edge as many times as he could muster before even getting his dick wet.

Because the instant you felt his warm breath hit one of your perky breasts, you knew you were fucked, headed towards your second orgasm of the night. His warm mouth enveloped your hard nipple, pulling and tugging with his teeth and soothing the slight pain he left with his talented tongue, his grinding becoming quicker and rougher as he felt your thighs tremble around his waist, your eyes watering as you neared the release you oh so craved, gasping out loud as one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing over your flushed skin.

"You gunna cry, baby? S'okay, let it out. Let it out f'me." He growled as he let go of your now throbbing nipple, moving to give your other neglected breast the same attention, hand leaving your face to run down to your core and slowly run over your clit, a huge contrast to the rough movements of his cock against you and his warm mouth on your nipple, all the different stimulations and feelings enough to push you over the edge and let the tears that had been collecting in your waterline finally fall, gasping moans and screams leaving your lips as you soaked his cock, body trembling beneath his ministrations as he chuckled against your nipple, enjoying the way you were slowly falling apart and he hadn't even pushed into you yet.

He didn't stop for a few moments, waiting until the moment where you would inevitably start whining and pushing him off with weak arms to cease, leaning back up with a shit eating grin as he waited for you to come down from your high.

"Oi, look at me." He taps one of his fingers on your face, moving your gaze towards his, a small, patronising pout tugging at his lips as he watches the tears roll down your cheeks. "Poor thing. You all fucked out yet? D'you think y'could still take my cock? Or are you too dumb f'that right now?"

"Y-yes, yes, please, please, need it so bad, Si! So so bad!" You stuttered out between laboured breaths, hands struggling against their binding, itching to be let free and feel his cock in your hands, which you could see between you, almost as girthy as a coke can and with a few prominent veins leading up to his flushed red tip, that was leaking pre spend you would gladly pay money to clean up with your tongue. "O-oh fuck, Simon, please -"

"Sh, shh. Calm down, y'little crybaby." He chastised, leaning down to softly press kisses over the tears that had gathered on your flushed cheeks, chuckling at how desperate you looked under him. "I'll give you what you want. Gon' fuck you so well, yeah? You'll feel me f'weeks, lovie."

"Fuck, yes, please! Want your cock so badly, please!" You cried, legs immediately spreading for him as soon as his calloused hands landed on the pudge of your thighs, slightly digging his fingers into them as he took in the beautiful sight of your soaking wet pussy, having half the mind to shove his cock in you without a second thought. But no.

"Calm." He snapped, one of his hands dropping your thighs and slapping your face softly to get your attention. "Protection, baby. You got a condom?"

He frowned as you shook your head, gasping for breath as you pointed over to your nightstand, where he could faintly see the glint of a packet of tablets in the dark. "Pill. 'M on the pill, Si. Clean. I'm clean."

He couldn't help the smile that crept onto his lips at the thought of being able to cum inside, and how eager you were acting to get him to finally stick his cock inside, whines and whimpers pulling him from his thoughts as he stared down at you.

"You going to let me cum inside then, lovie?" He teased, pulling your other thigh back up so the underside of both of them were resting flush against his bare chest, twitching cock resting on your overstimulated core. "Don' think I'm gonna be able to pull out."

"Don't want you to, fuck! Please, Simon, please!! Inside, want you to cum inside!"

A shiver racked through his body at your words, carefully letting one of your legs go and making sure it would stay there, wrapping around it to grab his cock, slowly sliding the head around your puffy lips to collect the slick, wanting the intrusion to be as painless as possible.

"Fuck… Alright, baby, alright. Breathe f'me." He whispered, letting the head of his cock press against your hole, telling himself to go slow and calm down, but by the way you were pulsing and clenching around the head, almost like you were pulling him in, made it hard to stay sane. "God, slutty lil' cunt's just swallowing me in, huh? Want this cock that bad?"

Your hands shook against their restraint as he started to push himself into your sopping hole, wanting nothing more than to grab onto something for stability, but you didn't want to risk him getting annoyed at you for trying to.

"S'okay, almost there." He mumbled, lying straight through his teeth because with one look down to where he was connected to it would prove that he wasn't even halfway in, and it was already proving difficult for your hole to accommodate to his massive size.

"S'big, Si, you're so biiig." You whined, spreading your legs slightly and pushing your body onto him to help, shivering as you could feel him start throbbing inside of you, no doubt needing his own climax after having spent so much time focusing on you.

You could feel your eyes start to flutter close, mouth dropping open as he finally bottomed out, his heavy balls flush against your ass and cock throbbing inside of you, taking a breather and letting you adjust to his size before he would start on his ruthless pace.

"Fuck, lovie, you droolin'?" He panted, a hand coming up to rest against your face and pull you out of your sex-drunk haze (Despite only getting his cock inside you now.), your eyes drowning in his crystal ones, hypnotised by his gaze as he used his thumb to rub away some of the drool that had dribbled down your chin. "Pretty girl finally gets some cock and turns into a drooling slut, huh?"

You let out a noise of complaint as your hands continued to struggle, the few coarse hairs that were peeking out from under his mask enough to make you want to bury your fingers in them, pull at his strands and dig your nails into his scalp as he rocked your world.

He seemed to to understand what you wanted, a chuckle leaving his swollen lips as he leaned over you, legs folding along with him and allowing him to reach a deeper point in your cunt you didn't know that existed, a loud moan escaping you as his calloused hands start undoing the belt, finally letting your wrists free and throwing the piece of leather away, his hands going back to holding onto one of your thighs and another gripping your waist.

"All yours, baby. All fuckin' yours."

He gave you a moment to react as he bottomed out, leaving you empty for a split moment before he slammed back in, cock head almost instantly hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, your hands immediately finding refuge on his shoulders, nails digging into the scarred skin as he repeated his ruthless thrusts, your body shaking beneath his as he pushed down onto your body, forcing you both into a mating press, your cunt tightening around his cock at the sight of his eyes rolling into the back of his head, tummy fluttering at the thought that he was enjoying this as much as you were.

"Fuck, so good, Simon! So fucking good!" Your hands trailed up to the nape of his neck and pulled at the few short hairs there, urging a growl out of him and causing him to slightly speed up, the head of his cock at this point abusing your g-spot, urging you to near your third orgasm. "Wan- Wanna cum, fuck, gonna cum, Simon!"

"Already, baby?" He spoke through bated breath, his stamina allowing him to keep a good and consistent pace, enough to please both of you and almost bring you to tears again. "That's okay, cum for me, lovie. Cum on my fucking cock, show me how much of a fucking whore you are f'me."

Your back arched, pressing your breasts to his sweaty chest, the extra stimulation from your nipples rubbing against his coarse skin finally pushing you over the edge, your cunt clamping down on his cock and making it near impossible for him to continue thrusting, but as the good soldier Simon was, he persisted, rutting into you with bared teeth and a clenched jaw, fucking you through your orgasm until your slick covered his balls and upper thighs.

"Good girl, good fucking girl." He rasped, hand moving from your waist up to your neck, giving an experimental squeeze and moaning as you clenched around him, a breathless chuckle leaving him. "Fuck, you're still clenchin' around me so nicely, love. Feel so fuckin' good, perfect lil' pussy all f'me..."

Simon was saying nonsense at this point, becoming near pussy drunk as his cock hammered into your puffy cunt, nearing his own peak after all the foreplay.

"Si- Simon-!" You keened, hands running under his mask to grasp at his hair properly, pulling at it to coax another guttural moan from him and leading him back down to engage in a messy kiss, teeth clanking together and spit being shared, feeling the desperation he was in as he continued to batter your pussy searching for his own orgasm. "Cum, please, please, cum inside!"

Simon's eyes rolled into the back of his head at your begging, eyelashes fluttering as his pace stuttered inside of you, cockhead pressing against the entrance to your cervix and finally going over the edge, his spend gushing into you and almost immediately filling you, his cock acting like a plug inside you.

"O-oh, fuuck…" He moaned out, voice going slightly high pitched as he relished in the euphoria of finishing inside of you, his nails leaving ten moon shaped indents on your hips, the pain nothing compared to the feeling of him finally fucking his spend into you, you'd have to worry about the inevitable bruises and marks in the morning before work. "Fuck, you're… fuck."

Simon lowered himself down, resting his sweaty balaclava-clad face on your shoulder as you both caught your breaths, his cock twitching inside of you as he rode the waves of his orgasm.

Your eyes were blown out, staring up at the ceiling as you were hit with a sudden wave of realisation, your brain finally catching up with your body and taking in everything that had just happened, especially the fact that you had allowed some masked man you'd met at a pub on a tinder date to ravage you like a starved animal.

"Oh my god." You said, voice wavering as you shivered beneath the mountain of a man, who's sweaty body was pressed flush to yours, his cock softening inside of you as you both started to sober up. "O-Oh my god, Simon."

He let out a moan against your skin, languidly thrusting one final time into you before slowly pulling out, peeling himself off of you and letting the cold air envelop your now-shivering body, the feeling of his warm cum dripping down your puffy cunt pulling out another broken whine from your lips.

"Look at that…" You tried moving away as Simon ran a finger down your spent hole, gathering his cum best he could before slowly shoving it back into you, clicking his tongue at your reaction before leaning down and pressing a final kiss to your clit, the loud cry that left you making him smile almost predatorily. "So, so pretty, baby."

Your eyelids fluttered closed as you felt the bed shift beneath Simon's moving weight, allowing you time to set your head on straight and think about the next words that were going to come out of your mouth (That weren't strangled moans of the blond's name and jumbled cries about how good he felt.) while he moved around, no doubt getting his discarded clothes so he could slip away into the night.

"...leavin'?" You finally mustered out, letting your head fall to a side so you could watch him pick up his boxers and slip them on, his balaclava fixed into place like it had been when you met him, leaving you to stare into his mysterious blue eyes, the only gateway into the man who had just finished ravishing you.

"..." He turned to look at you over his shoulder, eyes trailing over your shivering frame as he fought internally over your words.

Ghost knew that it would be dangerous to stay, to indulge in your touch and show himself to you in one of his most vulnerable states. He didn't know you outside of the few hours he had spent with you, and even with that, it wasn't enough for Ghost to let his guard down around you.

Simon wanted to stay, he wanted to climb back into bed and let you curl into his side, let his warm hands run up and down your warm skin like he had done while pleasuring you, listen to your snores and even breathing. And despite probably not being able to fall asleep himself, Simon knew that it would be one of the few tranquil nights of his life.

So despite Ghost's alarming protests ringing in his head, Simon slowly made his way into the empty spot of your bed next to you, the covers soft and cool against his heated skin, soothing the raging fire that seemed to boil inside of him at the mere sight of you, his large arms wrapping around you and pulling you towards his side of the bed.

As soon as your bare body made contact with his, you melted like ice cream on a hot day, curling into his side and allowing him to wrap his tattooed arm around you, calloused hands running up and down your sides, taking his sweet time memorising every curve and dip of your body as you rested your head onto his chest, ear pressed right above his rapidly beating heart.

Not one word was exchanged between you both the whole time you lied together, his fingers tracing every little nook and cranny of your skin he could find, stopping every once in a while to rub on a tense muscle or over a scar, the soft ministrations swiftly lulling you to sleep.

The hand that you had splayed on his chest was mimicking his movements, fingers running over the blond hair that adorned his chest, playing with the small cross that dangled from the small chain necklace around his neck. Every time his hand would come up to rub at your shoulders, you caught a peak at the many tattoos that sleeved his arm, and as much as you wanted to turn around and commit all of them to memory, every time you tried to move, he'd press you closer, as if he knew that if he did allow you to, you'd only put off sleeping for longer.

As your eyelids started drooping, you felt his other hand come up to rest over your smaller one, toughened fingers intertwining with your own softer ones, a tired smile forming at your lips before finally clocking out, his heartbeat a firm rhythm that pulled you further and further into the soft grasp of Hypnos.

As expected, Simon didn't sleep a wink.

He had tried to close his eyes and enjoy the warmth you radiated, trying his best to let your soft snores and murmurs lull him to sleep, but it was impossible.

Despite not having slept for more than two days, he was unable to fall asleep, on edge after the catastrophe that was his last mission.

That was one of the reasons he had decided to step out of his comfort zone and allow himself a night of indulgence with you, a night of letting himself go and take out all his anger on you, but he had been impuissant to hurt you or even come close to actually wound you, instead taking it as slow as he knew how to and muttering soft praises and sweet nicknames into your ear along with the degradation that he'd mixed in.

And even after tiring himself out, he still couldn't let himself fully relax.

But as he turned his head to look down at your sleeping face, he thought that maybe this wasn't so bad. He felt… at ease, for the first time in a while. No strident alarms to wake him up at the crack of dawn, no ringing in his ears as a grenade went off near him, no desperately patching up a wound and drenching his hands in blood, no screams and pleas of mercy reverberating around his head as he disposed of the enemy.

None of that. It was just you. With your body curled into his side and your soft skin beneath a killer's hands.

Which is why he wished he could stay there forever. Lock the door and have you in his arms for the rest of his life, without the paranoia and the horrors that followed him everywhere he went, only focus on you and how mushy you made him feel with only a few hours of knowing him.

Which is why he wished he could have just fallen asleep and ignored the vibrations that came from beneath his discarded clothes, that he didn't leave your side and pick up the phone, that he hadn't followed orders like he always did and hadn't left you alone.

He carefully tucked you in, making his side of the bed before hesitantly brushing his scarred knuckles against your flushed cheeks, an alternative to the kiss he oh-so wanted to press down onto you until you woke up, until you asked him to stay, until he caved in and left the 141 to fend for themselves.

But he didn't.

He closed the door to your bedroom, slipped his phone and keys back into his pockets and headed towards the front door, ready to leave you behind and go back to being Ghost.

But as his hand reached for the doorknob, his eyes caught onto a stack of fluorescent yellow sticky notes on the kitchen counter, and in a stroke of not so genius, he grabbed the nearest pen and scribbled down his number onto the piece of paper, signing it with a simple "S .", hoping that you'd deduce it was from him, and not from some random person whose name started with the letter S that had broken into your apartment just to give you their number.

He stuck it a bit too aggressively to the almost bare fridge, making sure it was in a visible spot that you wouldn't be able to miss before finally stepping out of your flat, adjusting his mask in the elevator's mirror and going back to the cold hearted killer his fellow soldiers knew as Ghost.

He'd expected it to be a short mission.

One that they'd be able to finish within two weeks at best so he could go back to his cramped flat in Manchester and hopefully get back to you.

He'd spent almost every day of the first week of his departure wondering if you'd found the note, if when he'd retrieve his phone back from his locker back at base, he'd find a few messages from an unknown number he hoped was yours, asking him how he was, asking him to meet up again, wondering if he was okay…

That's what mostly kept him going for the first few days.

Until it all went haywire.

The mission escalated quickly into a mess of soldiers and betrayals, flying from place to place and taking more lives with his bare hands than he had ever before.

Blood soaked his hands in a way it never had, the toll of deaths on his name increasing with every passing day, week, month, year.

When the mission that had started off as something simple, something Ghost couldn't even remember, ended after a year, the 141 couldn't be more relieved. And exhausted.

They'd fought for many months straight, barely finding places to get a wink of sleep, and sometimes even running out of food while they camped out in one of the dingy safe houses of whatever city they were currently stranded in.

But it was finally over. Their target had been disposed of and any enemy that remained had either been eliminated or had scurried off.

As the chopper brought them back to base, none of them said a word, even Johnny refrained from making any jokes, knowing that it would only piss off both of his superiors and maybe get a tired chuckle out of Gaz.

Price uttered a "Good job." to all of them before patting them on the shoulder and going to his office, no doubt ready to go back home and have the sleep of his life.

The two sergeants withheld from talking too much to their lieutenant, murmuring a goodbye to him before going their own way, Ghost not even bothering to answer, too mentally and physically exhausted to even open his mouth to speak.

The first thing he did once he reached his locker was throw the goddamn mask off, letting the plastic skull clatter against the tiles as he rummaged through his belongings, wanting nothing more than to get into some clean clothes and go back home, where he would drink away the horrors that would no doubt follow him and probably pass out watching reruns of football games he had missed.

The clothes he had worn the day before the mission were tighter, accentuating the change in his physique after putting his muscles to work for a whole year, the seams of his trousers digging uncomfortably into his legs, his pockets full of random junk he had left in there.

He fished for whatever was currently pressing against his backside, pulling out his small phone from the pocket, frowning down at the gadget, which was no doubt out of battery after being left for so long.

Simon was pleasantly surprised when the screen brightened, showing his black lock screen and the time, the battery hanging onto dear life with a 1%. He moved to grab his charger, his eyes still trained on the incoming notifications that would soon flood his home screen, not really expecting much aside from the emails entailing rubbish deals or the occasional spam from a porn site he'd signed up to as a teen and hadn't been able to delete.

Instead, he was bombarded with over a thousand notifications at once, all from the same unknown number, the messages going too quickly for his tired eyes, focusing on the random words he was able to take from the rapidly passing texts.

‍

Answer.

Ignoring.

Asshole.

Appointment.

Doctor.

Pub.

Baby.

Pregnancy.

‍‍

His mind blocked itself off as he processed the last word, trying to make sense of all the confusing messages that had been sent to his phone.

Had it been by accident? Was he the recipient of some prank? Had he unknowingly given out his number to someo-

You.

Simon's throat went dry as the realisation dawned on him. Without sparing another second, he unlocked his phone, clicking onto the notifications and scrolling down as fast he could while still intaking information, afraid that his phone would die out at any point in time and render him utterly confused and terrified.

His body went on autopilot the more he read, brain fuzzy as if he had just drank a whole bottle of hard-hitting liquor, his eyes fixed on the bright screen of his phone in terror.

He was in shock. His mind wasn't in the right state to process any of this, he wasn't able to properly begin to fathom the meaning behind your words, as simple as they were.

‍

— I'm pregnant.

— I'm fucking pregnant, Simon.

— I don't know how it happened, the chances of the pill failing are so fucking low, and of course it happened to us.

‍

— Please pick up.

— I know you're getting the messages.

‍

— The doctor told me it's too dangerous to perform the abortion.

— I have to keep it or risk my life.

‍

— I need you to answer, Simon. Please, I just need to know that you're there.

— I'm scared.

‍

— You're such an asshole, you know that, right?! Fucking gave me your number only to disappear? Left me pregnant with your bloody kid!? And you can't even bother to pick up the goddamn phone.

‍

— Fuck you.

‍

— …

— It's a boy. Thought you'd want to know.

‍

— My due date is in a month. Please… call me, if you're even reading these. I don't want to be alone.

‍

The phone flashed the low power message in hopes that Simon would take mercy on it and finally plug it in, but Simon paid it no mind, clear eyes staring down at the picture you'd attached during one of the first months of your pregnancy.

The blurry picture of an ecography staring back at him disproved any doubts that might have formed in his mind, your full name displayed at the bottom along with the date it was taken, solidifying the fact even more.

It was real. This was real. You'd been carrying his son for 9 months, sending him frantic and terrified messages all throughout the three trimesters in hopes that he'd answer, all the while he had forgotten all about you in the midst of his mission, while you probably didn't spend a single day of that year not thinking about him.

His phone went dark once it finally had enough, leaving him standing there with a dry throat and shaky hands.

It was rare for Ghost to feel fear, but not for Simon. His throat would contract with every breath, his nose would sting as tears threatened to form on his waterline, his hands would get shaky until he balled them up and threw a punch into whatever item was closest.

This time wasn't any different. He punched his locker door, denting the metal effortlessly as he tried to wash away the fear and guilt creeping up to him with the pain that bloomed at his knuckles, that ran up his arms like electric shocks until they went numb.

He was an asshole.

Simon knew that it wasn't his fault that the mission had been extended for way too long, but he kept thinking back to the moment he'd placed his number on your fridge, wondering what would have happened if he'd done the smart thing and added that he'd be unavailable for a while, but that he'd get back to you. Maybe you would have been less scared while going through the pregnancy, comforted by the thought that he hadn't been ignoring you, but he knew that even then, you would have gone through it alone and terrified.

"I'm an asshole."

He rested his head against the dented locker, the cool metal soothing the headache that had quickly formed after all the conflicting feelings that had rushed through him in the matter of a minute.

All he had wanted was to go back home and rest, but fuck him if he was going to be able to even close his eyes after learning he was a father.

He packed everything up as quickly as he could, not bothering to say goodbye or join the other three for a drink at a pub, heading to his car so he could get the fuck out of London and back to Manchester, where he prayed you still lived, in that tiny flat near that dingy pub where he had first laid eyes on you in.

As his gloved hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white, a terrifying thought struck him.

Who's to say you had even kept the baby?

Who's to say you couldn't bear to look at the baby, that you'd given him away to a way more functional family?

The thought inflicted fear in him, a type of fear he didn't know if he should be feeling or not, confused with all the unpleasant emotions swirling inside of him.

"God, fuck!" He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel, the roar he had let out no doubt scaring any civilian that had been walking near his car at the time, but he couldn't care less.

All that was important now was getting back to you, to what he hoped was still the mother of his son.

Happy giggles and gurgles filled the living room, your tiny baby outstretching his arms out as you cycled his legs slowly, making silly faces down at him to keep him distracted.

Your doctor had recommended small exercises like these, some that would help develop his future motor skills, but you'd found that Tommy was a curious baby, one that couldn't stay still for longer than five minutes before he was whining and huffing in a futile attempt to get your attention and hopefully release him from his tiny prison; and so, in order to keep him focused, you resorted to having leisured conversations with him, your small son hanging onto your every word with wide blue eyes and a gaping mouth, as if he could understand your frustrations with the man who had blocked your car off and the girl from the bakery that had gotten your order wrong, or making silly faces at him to hear him giggle with glee.

You placed his small feet down and went back to your resting face, his eyes instantly going from your face to the closest toy, small chubby arm reaching out to grab it, your fingers running over his tummy and getting out a few giggles out of him before he finally grasped the toy, pressing it into his side.

As he distracted himself, you let yourself sit down properly, back hitting the edge of the sofa as you watched your son roll around on the blanket you'd laid down, letting yourself look up at the TV for a moment to have a small break, the news reporter standing in front of Big Ben ranting about some resolved political dispute or something.

Your eyes trailed back down to your son, who was wriggling around with a new toy in his grasp, cooing and drooling as he stared up at the ceiling, blue eyes fixed on one of the many cracks in the ceiling.

You winced at the not so friendly reminder of the state your flat was in. Going through a pregnancy on your own without any help and barely any money to take care of yourself left your home in a condition you were not proud of. You'd tried your best to clean and make the nursery as cosy as possible, but at the end of your third trimester you could barely lean down to pick up the hoover. Once you had been allowed back home, you'd cleaned up, but you couldn't really do much to fix the poor way your building had been constructed.

A sigh left your lips, leaning down to rest your head against your knees with closed eyes, giving yourself a few moments of sacred rest, something you seldom got anymore those days.

Sometimes, you thought as you wrapped your arms around your legs, you wished you weren't alone. As much hate you had harboured for your son's father across the year, you couldn't help the longing that still filled you every time you thought about him, wondering if you'd ever see him again, if he'd ever hold his son in his arms.

Frustrated tears filled the corners of your eyes, wiping them away with your sleeves before turning your attention back to your son, who was now squirming in his spot making grabby hands at you.

"I've got you, duck, don't worry." You cooed, picking him up and pressing a few kisses to his chubby cheeks, cradling him to your chest as you got up from the floor, careful to not drop him or bump him into anything.

As you took him back to his room, routinely changing his diaper and clothes, you thought back to the small breakdown you almost had had a few minutes ago, letting out an exhausted sigh. There was no use in imagining a future where Simon fit in, you'd given him enough time to answer, to show any signs of life at all. You were alone.

You were on the verge of tears as you placed Tommy in his tiny crib, handing him the small duck plushie your grandma had knitted a few months back when she had come to visit, watching him cling onto it in his sleep for a few moments, his soft breaths and coos tranquillising the waves of anxiety threatening to drown you.

"Good night, Tom." You whispered, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek before flicking on the night light, carefully closing the door and resting your body against it, a shaky sigh leaving your chapped lips.

God, you were pathetic. Hung up over a man who you'd only known for a few hours, who'd left you with a baby (unknowingly or not, didn't matter), who still haunted your dreams every time you tried to get some rest. Why couldn't he have just picked up the phone? Why had he just given you his fucking number if he wasn't bothering on answering? Why had he gotten into your head so easily, with his sweet nicknames and soft kisses? Why couldn't you just fucking mov-

Your whole body jumped as the shrill doorbell rang, the sound reverberating around the flat and no doubt reaching Tommy's sensitive ears.

"God, yeah, I hear it!" You cried out as the sound didn't stop, starting to get worried that it would wake your baby up and then you'd have to deal with putting him to sleep all over again. "Fuck! I know, I'm coming!"

You looked through the peephole, eyebrows furrowing as you gazed upon a man's tacky army jacket instead of the normal face, so either this guy was incredibly fucking tall or he was standing on a stool.

Knowing that the area you lived in wasn't the safest, you unlocked the door but kept the chain latch on, a gap big enough so you could see the guy outside but not big enough for him to attack you.

"What?" You snapped, a bit harsher than how you'd normally answer the door, but this guy didn't really deserve any respect after how he'd basically abused your doorbell to the point of the sound still ringing in your ears. "What do you-"

Your gaze had been fixed onto his chest, scanning the army jacket you had spied through the peephole, cringing internally at the Union Jack plastered on his left bicep, hoping to God that he wasn't some type of Tory propagandist going door to door. But as your eyes trailed up to meet his, your mouth went dry.

Crystal blue eyes framed by pretty blonde eyelashes (identical to the blue eyes your son had been staring up at you with for the past three months), contrasting with the black face paint that was smeared around his eyes, the rest of his face obscured by that damn skull balaclava that haunted you.

It was him. It was fucking him.

"Simon." You said his name breathlessly, not missing the way his body stiffened at your shaky tone.

"Yeah. It's me."

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #ghost x female reader #cod mwii #call of duty #ghost x you #ghost fanfiction #ghost x fem!reader #ghost fic #cod mwii x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #cw pregnancy #— ménage

[reveluving]

If requests are still open I have one... Graves is having sex with his wife, and Price is watching them and he touch himself 😈 And his wife notice that Price is there but she can't say it to Graves because he makes her moan so much with his dick buried into her.

Are you TRYING TO KILL ME??? BECAUSE THANK YOU?? FAWK. 💀

Includes: wall s~mut (minors DNI!), soft (& slighly mean)!graves, mentions of nude polaroids, voyeurism & exhibitionism, licking, fingering, unprotected sex (p in v)

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

Being invited for dinner by the Phillip Graves was not on their bingo card.

Not that they didn’t like him, he was a good sport, almost like a brother, as evidenced by the good-humoured banter he has with them, especially with Johnny or Alejandro. But if he didn’t always go “can’t wait to see m’wife after this shit ends” every time they work together, then they would’ve assumed he was a casual hookup kind of guy.

So to be proven wrong when he took a polaroid of you—you hugging Kai, who was sulking at the doorway as it rained—out of his pocket, along with the silicone wedding band around his finger, well, it was safe to say they were pretty surprised. 

The SFW polaroid, of course, not the other ones.

Those were for his eyes only.

The invitees included the 141, then Laswell, along with Alejandro and Rudy, who were in town for work. God bless Graves for being ahead of them with the accommodations, not far from his house.

And as their day offs rolled around, you, on the other hand, got to work.

As usual, you did an amazing job with the food, from the proteins that he’ll help you cook once the party starts, down to the endless amounts of sides to choose from—the kinds that were both filling and bursting with flavour, an instant approval from the Southern blood in him. Somewhat enough to ease your worries about your hard work not being enough.

Meeting you had them wondering how a man like Graves managed to put a ring on a sweetheart like you. But the heart eyes they would catch in his eyes every time you were close by told them everything they needed to know about just how much he cares about you.

Of course, none of you could ever forget Kai, already rushing over to you at the front door when he thought he was going to go for a walk, only to perk up even more at the sight of more people.

More people meant more pets!

But back to the two of you; seeing you work together, balancing, with Graves’ more outgoing personality and you being soft-spoken yet perceptive, especially with his friends’ plates, it was all so… homey. No worries, no strategies, just smiles and laughs and gossip. 

After dinner, just as Graves expected, the team was astounded by your backyard patio—the perks of being married to a florist. The comfortable outdoor sofa and the small yet charming garden arrangement; everything well taken care of, plus the string lights added to the comfortable aesthetic feel, especially by nightfall. 

It took little effort to keep the conversation rolling, in addition to the snacks you had prepared with the beers. 

“I’ll be right back.” You whispered before kissing his cheek hastily, much to his amusement. You took your leave, only to scurry away at the door when he winked at you, uncaring at the thought of his friends catching his displays of affection.

But seeing his girl getting along with his friends so well? Her warm smile? Her cute little attempt to hide her laugh behind her hand? Putting her heart and soul into her cooking and her hospitality in general, despite your bashfulness?

Well, it was only fair to say thank you.

Graves-style.

Not even ten minutes after you entered the house, he stood up.

“I’m gonna check on the missus for a bit,” He waved his hand at them without looking as he headed to the sliding door, “You guys hang ‘round.”

And then, Price felt the need to stand on his feet, but not before scratching behind Kai’s ears one last time before the pooch moved to Gaz for more pets.

Price excused himself, saying he needed to splash his face a bit. He’s not drunk, far from it, but it has been a while since he’s had a relaxing time like this. And like the rest of the crew, he was not willing to miss out on the coziness of your home.

But the surprises never stopped when he heard a squeak, your voice unmistakable, just before he could turn the corner, where the kitchen, then the guest bathroom were. 

He didn’t dare to take a look at first.

“Phil!” He heard you yelp, followed by a drawn-out moan that you were trying to suppress in your husband’s shoulder. 

But fuck, your voice was so tantalizing.

Price held his fist against his mouth with his eyes closed, unsure if he was trying to drown out the sounds or put more focus on it. Then, his ears perked up at the squelching in between the fast-paced pistoning of Graves’ fingers in and out of your pussy.

The captain’s morality began to chip away, going just as insane as his friend when he chuckled evilly in your ear.

“Gettin’ a lil’ shy, pretty girl?” He didn’t make it any easier for you when he licked a large stripe up your throat, “S’alright, they’re just enjoyin’ themselves back there. ‘S just you and me.” 

You were already whining, albeit muffled as you bit your bottom lip as he held you up against the wall. With the way he was slapping your entrance, watching you with a knowing smirk, you knew he wasn’t going to hold back.

And as embarrassing as it was for Price to admit, he was thankful for it. Pumping his cock in his hand, following the same rhythm as the wet slaps of your hips. Your moans were just as hypnotic, short gasps and mewls every time Graves thrust back into you deeply. His tongue licked up the thin perspiration gathering on your exposed skin. 

Price was precise with his peeking, only doing so whenever he heard your muffled voice—when he was certain you were resting your head against his shoulder or even kissing him.

Those pretty lips.

But in the midst of his pleasure, he wasn’t careful enough, cursing under his breath while holding his firm grip on the tip of his cock when he heard you gasp, no doubt catching sight of him when he hid back behind the wall.

And yet, his feet were too heavy to move. Glued in his spot.

Praying to see more of you. Hear more of you.

Literally anything more.

“P–Phil,” Your nails massaged across your husband’s scalp, a silent plea for him to listen.

But you were too cockdrunk to even think about stopping him, let alone attempt to say a single word.

“Hm?” He hummed against the crook of your neck nonchalantly, slowing down his pace, but bottoming out just as deep to hear to whine, “Want me t’stop, baby?”

No. No no no. 

He couldn’t hear you, not with your incoherent babbling, but if you thought he didn’t understand what you were trying to say, oh, you couldn’t be any more wrong.

He wasn’t blind to the lingering looks some of the men gave you, not especially the captain’s. And though he had always known Price as ‘old-fashioned’ with his manners, he’d be stupid enough to think his courteousness with you didn’t mean anything more. 

But who could blame him? You were one in a million.

And when he, too, caught sight of the familiar figure before it hid behind the wall, he knew his suspicions were correct. 

And unless you told him to stop, to use your safeword, he wouldn’t even dream about pulling out. Not until he gets to feel it clench and quiver against him. To see your cum, both yours and his, dripping, even after he’s pulled your panties back up.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart,” He held your chin, a mix between a coo and a sneer. He snapped his hips once again, drawing a sputter out of you, “Do you want me t’stop?”

His smirk grew when your eyes darted sideways, knowing Price was still there, watching you being unravelled and ruined, then humming in delight when you finally answered.

“No.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

#— reve's reverie 🌹 #— reve's asks 🌹 #eyes locked hands locked series #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x f!reader #phillip graves x you #graves x reader #graves x you #graves x f!reader #cod graves #commander graves #commander graves x reader #commander graves x f!reader #commander graves x you #john price #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #john price x you #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x f!reader #captain price x you #captain john price #cod captain price #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #call of duty x reader

[saylorsaysstop]

Third Date Etiquette | Bucky Barnes

a/n: Bucky is def my comfort character and writing for him when I haven't in so long is AHHHH. please enjoy 💗

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

The ingredients lay before you on the table. Potatoes, onions, garlic, carrots, and most importantly–chicken. Your nerves were wracked as you studied the contents of the recipe over and over, practically committing it to memory. It was your third date with the extremely captivating and handsome man, Bucky Barnes. You two quite literally ran into one another at the local Starbucks–you with a very sweet and frothy latte, Bucky with a bitter iced black coffee. 

“Hi,” Bucky had said to you, piercing blue eyes like windows to the soul. You immediately took comfort. Weird, but you felt safe and you hadn’t been in his presence all but for 30 seconds. 

“Hi,” you answer with a sheepish smile, admiring your hands. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

He smiled in the friendliest of ways. It wasn’t every day you slammed into the hard chest of a man who looked as though he just stepped off of the latest Men’s GQ issue. His scent was homey, earthy. Woodsy and aromatic, he smelled like citrus and sex. The good kind of sex, too. Mouth-watering sex, the kind that will have your toes curling and aching at a memory recalled throughout your normal day. 

Introductions were quickly exchanged and you were shocked when the stranger who you found to be Bucky asked for your number. By the end of the day, he asked you to dinner, and now just a few weeks later this was lucky date number three. And you offered to cook for him. Your grandmother said that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. So with that information tucked away nicely in your brain, you asked if he had any food allergies, and mentioned chicken, and Bucky was immediately on board. He offered to bring the wine. 

As you began to prepare your chicken and cut up your veggies, you heard the knock on your apartment door. A soft smile spans across your face as you wash up your hands and race for the door, eager like a teenager falling in love for the first time. Inhaling slowly to try and dampen the quick thud of your heart, you check your reflection in the mirror and ensure you look presentable. Opening the door, Bucky stands there in a pair of dark jeans that hug thick thighs wonderfully, a navy blue v-neck tee, and his jacket. In his hand is a bouquet of roses and the bottle of wine he promised to bring.

“Hey, Doll,” he smiles. It didn’t take him long to give you a sweet little pet name, and ‘doll’ was so fitting, as if he came straight out of the 1950s. 

“Hello, handsome.” you say breathlessly, ushering him to come inside. He steps over the threshold and pops a gentle kiss onto your cheeks, his warm lips and slight scruff a perfect mixture that sends your heart into overdrive and an ocean down below. 

You take the flowers and wine from him, laughing over your shoulder as he comments on your sweet little apartment. “It’s very cozy in here.” he laughs, admiring the bookshelf in the corner filled to the brim with all of your favorite reads. From historical romance to paranormal, all the way to romantasy and the occasional dark romance, you had something for every mood. 

“Thank you!” you beam. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” 

Bucky felt his heart soften at that. It’s not much but it’s home. There was nothing more he wanted in this world than to feel at home. To be quite honest, he hadn’t felt the essence of home since Steve, and he wasn’t so certain that he’d ever get to experience it again. But then there you were… bumping into him in that coffee shop. With your bright smile, ease of conversation, and breathtaking beauty. He was smitten and starstruck by you. 

“The flowers are gorgeous, Bucky. Thank you so much.” You exhale as you place the vase of water and flowers as a centerpiece on your kitchen table. Bucky looked around, noticing the prepped chicken sitting in a stainless steel roasting pan. Veggies were lined around it like a little bed for the chicken to rest on. He smiled to himself, eager to have a woman offer to cook for him on a date. It wasn’t something he was used to and he wouldn’t take for granted the sweet gesture. 

“I’m glad you like them.” He answers. You look at his jacket and laugh.

“Go on, make yourself comfy. Take your coat off. You can lay it over one of the chairs.” 

Bucky wets his lips as he shimmies out of his leather and lays it over the back of the wooden chair as you instructed. He admired the full view of you for the first time tonight. You wore a dress that dropped just to your knees and a pair of blush pink flats. You wanted something semi-formal but comfortable. The dress hugged your curves and Bucky’s mouth watered at the image of his hands tracing every single one, committing them to memory. He opened and closed the fist of his metal limb, his eyes fluttering shut. He wanted desperately to know how you tasted and not just what lay beneath that dress and panties he coould only imagine looked like–but your mouth. Your mouth looked so sweet and delectable, lips that were made to fit perfectly against his.

“Do you need help with anything?” Bucky asked, gazing around at the nicely-kept kitchen. You had cleaned up as you went along cooking this evening. 

“Yeah… You can make yourself useful.” You smirk with a playful tone to your voice. “You can open that bottle of wine while I grab us two glasses… You grabbed my favorite.” 

Bucky laughed. “I remembered you ordering it on our first date.” 

You stalled in front of the cabinets, the memory of that first day clouding your mind. How much of a gentleman he was despite everyone saying that chivaraly was dead. He pulled out your chair, let you wear his jacket on the way out because it was practically freezing, and he walked you to your doorstep where he kissed you goodnight. Not on the lips, but on the cheek, because he wanted to set the standard with you–that you were worth more than jumping headfirst. He wanted to feel you out, take his time. After all, you would be the first woman he’d grown to fancy in a very long time… and after Sam’s whistling over the picture Bucky showed him of you once he confiscated your socials, Sam was hollering for Bucky to quickly lock it down. 

“You paid attention.” you giggle, realizing that the wine glasses were sitting on the very top shelf. Grumbling, you were about to grab the stepstool before a warm hand ghosted across yours and a hard chest was felt against your back. Bucky effortlessly grabbed two glasses and locked eyes with you, his eyes not helping but to drop to your lips. 

If you weren’t trying to impress him with your cooking skills, you would’ve forgotten dinner all together and jumped straight to dessert. 

Bucky smiled at you as he unloaded the two glasses into your grasp before he went to work on popping the cork. You were enveloped with that homey scent once more, that citrus sending a shock appeal through your loins, your eyes fluttering closed. If you weren’t paying attention to maintaining your balance, you might just pooled to the floor then and there. 

As he popped the cork and you put the chicken in the oven and set a timer on your phone, he offered you a glass. 

“Cheers,” You smiles, clinking your glass to his and taking a sip. The feel of the wine on your tongue was smooth and silky, causing you to ponder if Bucky’s tongue felt the same. You lick your lips as you sat the glass down and admire him. 

“What?” Bucky asks.

Smirking, you shake your head. “I’m just surprised is all.” 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at the statement. “Surprised?”

You nod your head. “How I happened to score running directly into the arms of someone this good looking.” 

Your comment on his appearance sent a flush down the back of his neck. Bucky Barnes was not the kind of man that blushed, but he suddenly felt an odd sense of heat rise on the apples of his cheeks. He tucked his tongue into the pocket of his cheek and chuckled, cursing under his breath at how a woman, for the first time in his life, had the upper hand on him. 

“You’re all for flattery tonight.” Bucky chuckles. 

“It’s the truth.” You don’t back away. That was another thing that pulled Bucky into your orbit. He loved that you said anything that came to mind. It didn’t matter how outlandish or awkward it could sound, he loved it. You spoke your mind. You were the epitome of fearless and he knew he could use some more of that in his life. 

The longer you two stood there and the silence grew, it was one of comfort. You both drank from your glasses and Bucky knew that if he didn’t take his chance now, he wouldn’t ever do it. He stepped closer and circled a hand around your waist, dropping low on your hip. The feel of his large hand through the fabric of your dress sent a jolt of electricity down your spine as you peered up at him. 

“Jumping to dessert first?” You dare to ask.

“Doll, dessert has been on my mind since I woke up this morning.” Bucky drawled, his voice rich and deep. His warm breath fanned over your bottom lip as he searched your eyes, waiting for the invitation, eager for your confirmation that you too wanted some dessert before dinner. 

Grinning wildly, the tip of your head and the subtle pushing into his hard frame was all he needed. Bucky caught your thin between his fingertips and dipped low, his lips slotting against yours. 

Perfect fit. 

His lips molded to yours. They were soft and pleasant and warm and everything you could’ve dreamed of. He kissed you with such softness that it stole the breath from your lungs. You unhooked your fingers from around the stem of your wineglass and raised them, laying them over his shoulders. You took the leap of courage and deepened the kiss, being the first to run your tongue across his bottom lip, asking for permission to infiltrate.

Bucky opened his mouth a little wider and your tongues touched which sent both of you into a frenzy. A low grunt of approval climbed up Bucky’s throat followed by a breathy moan leaving yours. He turned you both so that the curve of your back was pressed into the island. He pushed forward, your body folding slightly across the granite as he kissed you deeper, kissed you as if you were the oxygen that was snatched from his lungs, kissed you like there would be no tomorrow. 

“Bucky,” You gasp his name as you pull away for a breath of fresh air. But you were so desperate to kiss him again. You never wanted to stop. 

Bucky’s eyes flickered with a deep sense of want and you had a strong feeling this date might just go to third base. 

He smirked down at you, the playfulness of his eyes putting you on high alert. His thumb grinded into your hip and in a flash, he had you lifted and your bottom on the counter. Wedging his body between your knees, a shrill of laughter escaped you as you drape your arms over his shoulders. Bucky comes back in, diving head first for more, this time with a lot more passion.

He didn’t hold back. Bucky’s hands gripped your sides and danced up until he was grabbing your face, the gasp flooding your lips at the mix of cold of his metal hand and warmth of his flesh one. You groan louder against his mouth as you tangle your legs around his waist and locking your ankles. 

“How much longer on that timer?” Bucky asked between deepening kisses. 

You glance down at your phone. “30 minutes.” You giggle. 

Talk about some third date etiquette. You wanted this more than anything.

“30 is all I need, Doll.” Bucky laughs, lifting you off the counter and leading you to the couch where he climbs on top of you, his hard body pressing against yours.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes one shot #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel fic #sebastian stan character #sebastian stan

[sacredcyber]

I Think I Like When It Rains

A soft smutty SilverV oneshot, 3k words. A/n: fem V from a corpo background, nsfw.

The long trek towards her northside apartment was unusually silent and painfully dull. Normally Johnny's comments would be firing at a rapid pace. When can they start looking for Alt? Let him take control just for an evening, take a smoke break. Instead she found herself walking through night city alone, in the rain, shooting off random questions hoping it’d rouse him from whatever recess of her mind he’d hidden himself in. Nothing. No answers at all, not even a huff of frustration.

‘It’s fine.’ She thinks to herself. ‘It’ll be like that when he’s gone.’ And that thought brings out a burn in her throat. Something pained and sharp has burrowed itself in her chest and made itself home. V stops short at the corner about a block away, she leans against a light post and sighs.

‘You’re being weird again.’

It’s her voice but it’s not. The sudden realization dawns on her that Johnny could read her thoughts. It makes her feel exposed. She quickly runs the block home in the downpour, the rain soaking through her too big tank top and leather pants.

After fidgeting with the broken card reader, V stumbles inside her small apartment. The pink neon lighting and blue beaded curtains make it feel so homey, so lived in. She remembered the day she bought it, Johnny berated her about her lack of taste. V wanted to tell him about her luxury condo she had to give up when she got sacked, but a sudden wave of shame had washed over her and she simply answered with a small hum in agreement. Arasaka seems like a lifetime ago. Another life, another person, another V. Her Watson home was too painful to stay in after Jackie died, the memories of the both of them shooting the shit, Misty coming by after her shift with tacos and yakitori were all things of the past. The northside apartment had become like a sanctuary, she could be at peace here in this small shoebox of a room.

Just her, Nibbles and her tapeworm.

As she crosses the threshold, a friendly meow greets her. Nibbles jumps off the arcade cabinet and rolls on her back exposing her equally bald tummy. V chuckles and closes the door behind her, as she bends down to bless the feline with a generous scratch behind her ears, she can hear the familiar sound of Johnny’s static reappearing.

He groans and makes his way over towards the armory. V pretends not to notice him, not to be excited he’s left whatever shell he was in earlier. Instead she fishes out a pack of cat food for nibbles and walks over towards a small porcelain bowl.

Johnny immediately moves away and heads over to the bed, she watches him out of the corner of her eye. He’s a bit tense, wound up. As if he could sense her questioning gaze he simply lights up a cigarette. “I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?” V asks incredulously. Johnny’s static form stutters a bit as he shifts himself onto her small bed. “Well actually you’re tired. I’m just feeling it too.” He mumbles. V makes a face, this fucking guy. “I thought engrams don’t need to sleep?” She stands and walks over towards him, his legs planted firmly on the linoleum floor. A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “You really gonna fight me over this? Fuck V...” The bite he normally has in his voice is mostly gone, Johnny sounds exhausted, miserable. She sighs, the day's events hadn’t been easy on them, the sudden rainstorm plus the non working fast travel pods around the city only added to her frustration. If only her car wasn’t in the shop, she could have just driven home.

Nope, it was just her trudging through the rain. Now she’s home, dripping wet and muscles aching. V sighs, there’s no fight in her, hell she’s not even hungry. All she wants is a hot shower and sleep. “You can sleep with me tonight.” She mumbles. Johnny looks up as V begins to turn away, “ I know you don’t need to but…”

“But what?” He asks, ready to tease her. “Someone’s eager to get me into bed.” He observes her as she slips her boots off.

“You seem…I don’t know…off? Quiet maybe.” She says before disappearing into the bathroom. Johnny scoffs, before he knows it he’s in the bathroom ready to argue.

“As if I-“ he begins before he stops himself. V stands topless in front of the shower, her wet samurai top already on the ground, her hands on her pants zipper. She raises an eyebrow. “What? Never seen tits before?” She turns around and begins to remove her pants, Johnny knows he should fuck off right now, give her some kind of privacy. But something’s compelling him to stay, see what happens, V doesn’t seem to mind it.

“Wasn’t expecting to see yours.” He chuckles. “Didn’t know my little corpo rat was an exhibitionist is all.” V turns the shower on trying not to focus on the “my little corpo rat” comment, he notices the way her breasts jiggle a bit, they’re bigger than he’s used to, Johnnys always had a penchant for petite women, V’s musculature had been a bit of a turn off for him, recently he’s been rethinking that.

She turns to face him and something in Johnny’s chest tightens. She’s bare, with nothing but his tags on. Something about that does it for him, maybe it’s her lack of aggression or just how intimate it feels. “Not gonna take those off too?” He lifts his cybernetic hand and places his fingertip onto the tag, V can feel slight pressure there. She cocks her head a bit, “I’ve never taken them off.” She says following his wandering hand as it travels from the tags to her navel. She can feel him and she doesn’t know how or why, but she doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t want to ruin it.

V makes a motion with her hand, “You coming in?” Johnny is a bit stunned, he’s not used to V being so nonchalant about contact. Normally she’s very cagey about him being near her. He doesn’t blame her, especially since their meeting was terrible. He’s conflicted, but the need for touch is overwhelming. “You want me to?” He asks, hesitation sprinkles his words. V nods. ‘Yes’ she thinks and so he follows.

V stands under the hot shower, the steam feels so comforting, like a warm blanket hugging her. As she stretches she can feel her back bump into something solid. As she reaches back Johnny catches her hand, his ganic hand gently caresses hers. She hesitates but turns to face him, he’s there naked as the day he was born, only with the addition of that familiar blue static. She studies him, he’s definitely handsome, not that she wanted to admit that but something about his little grin tells her he already knows that. Her eyes wander from his dark brown eyes to his sloped nose down to his happy trail, she lifts her head to face him, not wanting to focus on the obvious.

“You look like you got questions.” He murmurs. V looks for her shampoo. “Can you feel the water?” He nods. “Yeah, feels nice, I guess it feels nice to you.” He moves to stand under the shower head, it merely goes through him but V supposes it adds to the experience.

She grabs the coconut shampoo and begins to work up a lather. Her back is towards him, “Where did you go?” She asked. Johnny notices a slight hitch in her voice, he watches as she scrubs her scalp. He steps in and replaces her hands with his, lightly massaging the product into her hair. “Can’t exactly go anywhere…” he avoids the question. V steps under the shower head, her back pressed against Johnny's chest. He watches as the shampoo runs over her breasts down her toned stomach. His hands move from her scalp to the sides of her waist, before he grabs her and presses her firmly against him, his mouth pressed against her ear.

V presses harder against him, he feels so real, so solid against her skin. The only difference is the lingering fuzziness he gives off, maybe it’s the static. “You…didn’t answer my question.” She manages to mumble out, Johnny simply hums “I’m here now.” His metal hand traces down from her collarbone in between her breasts. V wants to prod him, demand he tell her why he left her alone with her thoughts but his touches are so reverent, so gentle.

“I was angry.”

She turns to face him, Johnny’s brown eyes scan her face, he looks vulnerable, soft, uncomfortable. She grabs his ganic hand and presses her face against it, his thumb strokes her cheek. “Did I do something?” He simply shakes his head, everything pisses Johnny off to some extent. The shitty weather, his PTSD, the way Fuckin’ Takemura and River give her those looks when she’s not paying attention. V used to piss him off too, her selflessness, the way she’d always get involved in shit that didn’t concern her, her kindness. Her ability to just give parts of herself to anyone in need.

Now he’s before her, a starved man seeking it out for himself. He hesitates and leans down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. V slowly allows herself to be soft, to be open for him. Love isn’t something you come across in Night City, it’s something you buy for an hour or two. But this isn’t that, this is something else, something that’s needed by both of them.

His kisses are rough, they’re desperate for dominance, to lay a claim on her. She can feel how needy he is, the way his hands press into her bruised back, how his fingers find those sore spots and rub into them. V lets out small pained cries, as she opens her mouth Johnny simply probes deeper. He wants all her sounds and cries, all of them. The good and the bad.

“V…” he whispers, her bitten lips skimming over his down to his neck, she bites into him like forbidden fruit and such as original sin she knows she’s crossed over into temptation. That pained thing that burrowed into her earlier is now growing between her ribs and it flutters so gently she can barely breathe.

How strange.

Johnny grabs V’s face and pulls it to meet his gaze. He wants to see her, needs to see her face when he’s worshiping her. Her eyes are hazed over, glazed in want and desperate for release. He plants more swollen kisses on her lips. “Let’s go to bed.” He whispers hungrily. V turns off the shower and grabs a towel. “Let’s go to bed?” She begins to towel herself off. Johnny simply grins and reappears sitting on the bed, he can see her though the beaded curtains and even though he’s mapped out her curves and scars with his fingers it’s still exciting to see only bits of her behind the blue plastic beads. Like a private show meant only for him, something no one else can have.

Because how could they? No one knows her like he does, no one ever could.

V emerges from the bathroom, her hips sway a bit as she closes in on Johnny’s personal space. “Sit on the bed.” He whispers in that whiskey’d tone. She does as instructed and immediately he appears on the floor in front of her, kneeling. Johnny’s not used to being subservient, but it feels so natural with V, so easy. Like he doesn’t have to be that “rowdy asshole rockerboy” everyone wanted. He’s simply Johnny, touch starved, pent up, needy Johnny.

He slowly trails his fingers over V’s thighs, it makes her shiver under his touch. “Know how frustrating it is watching you play nice with a pig and a corpo dog?” His tone is dangerous with a veneer of playfulness. V raises herself up on her elbows, she watches as Johnny kneads her inner thighs.

“Has Johnny Silverhand always been the jealous type?”

He chuckles, “Possessive might be the better word.” He spreads her legs out further and places a wet kiss on her clit. Her hips buck into his face a bit. “Fuck…” she gasps out. Johnny chuckles “Not yet, I wanna have some fun first.”

His ganic fingers circle her entrance, she’s already wet and dewy but he’s never been one to half ass eating someone out. He doesn’t want to rush anything. “Thinkin’ real hard down there, silverhand?” V’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Her half lidded stare and the way she runs her fingers through his tangled hair makes him feel alive again.

“I need you to ride my face.” Before V can protest or tease, Johnny’s already teleported under her. He’s taken the liberty to spread her legs as she precariously balances over his face. She holds on to the wall in front of her. “I-I’ve never done thi-“ Johnny licks a swipe over her clit and she shudders.

“Just relax.” He says as plants a tender kiss on her entrance. “Don’t think, just do.” He presses her wet cunt onto his lips as he moves her hips in rhythm. V holds onto the wall in front of her trying to set a pace for herself, worried she might hurt him.

‘You won’t, trust me. Ride my fuckin face like a cowgirl.’

Before she can even ask what the hell that means, his tongue makes its way inside her. “Oh fuck yes…” she moans as her hips move against him, her clit brushing up against his nose and moustache. Johnny holds her down even tighter against his face, sucking and tongue fucking his way through his host. He wants to make her see stars, to become so undone by his mouth alone that even after death, she’s ruined by him.

“Johnny…john- I’m gonna…” her hips swivel in that familiar way, her pussy tightens around his tongue, she’s looking for it, searching for release. He removes his tongue and replaces it with his fingers relentlessly pounding into her. “Come on V just let it go baby…” he holds her hips and presses his lips onto her stomach as she fucks herself above him. “Goddamn…fuck yes yessss…” she sighs as her climax washes over her.

V wobbles a bit as her legs give out on her. Thankfully Johnny teleports and reappears to help steady herself. She’s on the precipice of sleep, yet it doesn’t stop her from trying to crawl into his lap. He laughs a bit “what are you doin’?” V presses up against him, his cock nestled between her puffy lips.

“I wanna sleep on you like this.” She moves her hips and positions his cock at her entrance. Johnny watches as V slides herself on his thick cock, his girth makes it sting so deliciously. Johnny grins and lays back in bed with V content and filled on his chest. He spreads her legs out over him and slowly fucks into her. He throbs with each stroke.

“This how you want me inside you every night?” He asks, his lips hovering over her ear as he caresses her sore lower back with his metal hand. “Get home from running around this city? Fixing everyone’s fuckin’ problems…” He whispers in her ear as he continues to slowly pump himself inside her. Agonizingly slow.

“That’s what you want right? You want someone to take care of you too.” He grips her hips and plunges himself deep into her core. V calls out for him, begging him to go faster but he relents. “Nah, I wanna savor this, wanna make sure it only fits me from now on.” He bites her harshly and with intent. Savoring the wet sounds they share between them.

“How do you think people would feel? Knowin’ Night City’s golden girl is getting dicked down by the dirty old man living in her head?” He punctuates his question with another harsh thrust. V mewls against him and sobs “t-they wouldn’t….get it!” His pace begins to pick up as he holds her down and fucks into her used hole.

“That’s right, they wouldn’t…but we get it, right baby?” His forehead touches hers as he continues to fuck into her.

“Y-yeah…”

“Yeah? Because we belong to each other. From the day I met you, you’ve been mine, all fuckin’ mine…” he grips her throat with his metal hand and keeps a brutal pace. It’s a strange feeling, the agony and ecstasy of relishing in unhinged coitus, of bearing your ugliness out on the same table you fuck your lover on. It’s liberating because he knows what she’s thinking. There’s no guessing games, he doesn’t feel any fear, no hesitation, just complete and utter synchronicity.

Johnny knows he’s needs it and fuck if V also needs this as well. So he fucks her hard into completion, into submission, into a promise. A silent accord, for as long as they have each other. To have and to hold, to fuck and to kill, however the hell people pledge themselves to each other in this day and age. His very soul belongs to her.

The silence between them is comforting, only the sounds of rain drizzling outside and nibbles playing with the beaded curtains next to the minibar. V slides over to lay on his ganic arm, his heartbeat, his warmth, feels real. She shuts her eyes tight and holds onto him for dear life, as if he’d disappear if she let him go.

A whisper floats through her mind, “I’m not going anywhere.” He promises. He can feel her smile and press herself closer to him, less out of fear and more out of need. He lays and watches the ceiling fade from view, letting sleep take him for the first time in over 50 years.

#johnny silverhand #female v #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk2077 #my fic #oneshot #silverV #Johnny x female v #johnny silverhand x reader #I wrote this for me but y’all can read it too💖

[lunalockley]

1. The Neighbor

Masterlist

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader x Jake Lockley

Warnings: 18+ soft smut, just some making out (for now hehe, the whole I wanna be yours series will be NSFW 18+ so beware)

Summary: Your new cute and sweet neighbor Steven has you… intrigued.

Words: 1.3k

Notes: At the end of the chapter ↴

Next chapter

There are three people you know in the building. Two of them are friends with you, kind of. The first you met was your landlord whose flat is precisely underneath yours and he has complained already twice about how much noise your footsteps make in the afternoon, twice in the whole month you have rented it to him. So definitely not a friend. Your actual friend is the old lady who lives on the same floor, at the beginning of the hall, Miss Claire. The same day you were moving in she knocked on your door with a fruit basket as a welcome gift. You returned the gesture with an apple crumble. Since then she has shared her wisdom about the cheapest markets nearby, guidance on the fastest ways to get to your new job, book recommendations, and crochet tips over a warm and homey tea date at her place.

And there is Steven. Steven with a v, he had said. Your cute neighbor with messy hair, baggy clothes, and a gentle smile, whose door is in front of yours.

He was nice the first time he saw you, making time to introduce himself and having small talk even when he was running late for work. There you learned he worked in the gift shop at the London museum, that he was late because he had a sleep-walking problem and that he fought it by trying to stay awake but had slept at the last minute, that he was very into Ancient Egypt and spent a great part of his time studying the culture, that he had a goldfish named Gus and even offered to give you a tour around the best libraries and book shops around the neighborhood when you told him you worked as a translator and book editor. All of that in a cute rapid babble that got you smiling while he walked backwards through the hall to the elevator. Laters gators, he had screamed waving his hand before the doors closed in front of him.

That was the very best first impression of all the people you had met in London. The nicest and sweetest one. You were definitely interested on get to know him better.

But, of course, you weren’t in a place to call him a friend yet. More of an occasionally friendly-like person. Because a few days later, when you bumped into him in the elevator, it took you a moment to recognize him. But when you finally greeted him he just stared at you for a few seconds, nodded, and stormed out as soon as the doors opened.

That’s why you were even more intrigued by him a few days later when he showed up at your door.

“I came to honor my word, you know. The book shops I told you about last time we saw each other? Remember? I thought we could set a date. Since I’m a regular they often give me discounts so maybe if they see us together they’ll give you discounts too. Or I could just buy them for you. And I thought maybe I can show you my favorite coffee shop, bloody amazing tea… and coffee. I don’t know which one you prefer but uh—All this if you are still interested, of course. There’s no problem if you’re not. And if you are not busy because I guess you might—”.

His rambling makes you giggle, but some of it confuses you. “Yeah, I remember, Steven. And I would love to. But that’s not the last time we saw each other tho”.

“…What do you mean?” He asked, puzzled.

“That time in the elevator at night?”. That got you no reaction. “You were wearing a dark jacket, with a raised collar and a hat. I greeted you but you didn’t seem to remember me”.

This makes him giggle in return. “How could I forget about you? You must have confused me with someone else”.

And even when you are almost certain that it was him in the elevator you let it pass because you get distracted by the way he’s smiling at you, how good he smells —a mix between a woody floral fragrance and freshly washed clothes—, how his whole body seems to vibrate with contained energy, and how cheerful his brown eyes look when you both finally set a date.

He’s not the only one who gets thrilled though. As the day of the date approaches, you get more and more excited. A nervous know forms in your belly and a soft giggle escapes your mouth every time you remember your cute neighbor.

You even bake an apple crumble for him the previous day to share before you two go on your bookshop tour. Since Miss Claire called it an absolute delicacy. Her words.

But then you wait and wait, and wait.

He doesn’t show up. Neither the next day nor the day after that. Nor the week after that.

Days and weeks passed and you didn't get any news from him till the point you actually started to get worried about him.

So you were concerned, disappointed… and intrigued. Your slippery neighbor frequently coming to your mind. Thinking about the first time you met him in the hall, that time in the elevator when he just stared at you without saying a word, the intensity of his eyes in contrast with the way he looked at you a few days later when he came to you to set a date. All of it running around in your mind.

Until one night you wake up to strong knocks on your door.

And there he is. Steven.

But not the cheerful and energetic Steven you had talked to. No, in front of you was that one you had met in the elevator. The controlled and silent one. He’s just looking at you, but this time there’s a fervor in his eyes that leave goosebumps all over your skin.

And when you open your mouth to ask him what is he doing here, what has happened to him all this time he’s kissing you. His hands suddenly on your hips and your lower back, leading you inside your flat, holding you by your naked thighs and pressing you against the closed door.

You try to push away to breathe, to try to think. But now his lips are on your neck, on your collarbone. And you need to hold into something, so your hand finds his way to the curls of his head, his hat falling to the floor in the process. But he doesn’t seem to care. Because he’s taking you to your bed. His mouth finding its way back to yours.

He takes a moment to admire you, once he has placed you onto the mattress. You open your mouth for the second time, trying to make any sense of what’s happening. But he just shakes his head before you say anything, his eyes fixed on the way his hands are lifting up your shirt. Revealing little by little more of your body.

And you don’t even feel like asking any more questions as long as he keeps touching you like this. Because now his mouth is making its way over your thigh while his hand caresses your ribcage under your shirt.

And every second he gets closer and closer to where you want him the most—

But then, again, almost like a deja-vu, you wake up to gentle knocks on your door.

And there he is, just like you would’ve summoned him with your steamy dream, your —sort of—friendly neighbor Steven with what seems to be a souvenir of the pyramid of Giza in his hands.

———————————————

Next chapter

———————————————

Notes:

Hi! This fanfic will be NSFW and contain smut so please 18+ readers only. Until the moment, I have planned ten chapters for this fic. This one, the first, starts with the Steven from the first episode. The one who doesn’t know about Marc yet, that’s when he and the reader meet for the first time. Those three or so weeks he spends away comprehends the whole Moon Knight Series timeline, so when he comes back to the reader he’s already gone through all. He’s been in Egypt, has a good relationship with Marc, and doesn’t know yet about Jake. Lastly, even when I love her I’m going to take a creative license and erase Layla from my fiction world. Not completely, I think she and Marc were married and divorced, and that’s it. There’s not any hate intended, just it would be easier for me to do it this way. This is the way hehe.

And yes, Miss Claire is the friend of the old lady scared of Steven in that elevator scene in episode one.

That’s all I wanted to say, thanks for reading <3

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant x you #steven grant fluff #moon knight imagines #steven grant smut #mcu moon knight #jake lockely smut #jake lockely x you #jake lockely x reader

[rogerswifesblog]

can you do a softer smut where reader and steve just worship each other and then he gets ridden soft and slow?

Kinktober - Bodyworship

A/N: Hi! Here’s another Drabble for the late kinktober. I’m not sure if this was meant to be an ask for kinktober but I’ve decided to use it as an inspiration for body worship!🤭 I hope you like this and thank you for the ask! I’d appreciate some feedback-if you don’t feel comfortable with commenting or reposting send me something into my inbox!:3

Likes, comments, reblogs and feedback are very appreciated!

Summary: a soft and sinful evening.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: kissing, p in v sex, oral f receiving

After a successful mission all Steve wanted was to just spend a peaceful evening with you. Only you. No texts from the team, no emergencies, no boring calls. No nothing.

Just you.

When he finally walked through the door he could already feel the calming atmosphere, the sweet aroma of cookies and food. It was something you always did when he was coming back from longer missions.

Baking his favourite cookies and a home cooked meal.

And he loved this about you. The simple things that made this relationship homey and domestic.

Some warmth in his heart after all those years of being frozen. Not only literally.

“I’m home”, he greeted you while taking off his boots. You immediately walked to the door, greeting him with a soft peck on the lips. “The food is ready soon, just in time after you shower”, you kissed him one more time before leaving him to check on the food again while Steve went to the bathroom.

After letting the hot water relax his tense muscles a bit he changed into some comfortable baggy shirt and sweatpants.

You had placed everything on the table and were already waiting for him. “It smells really good”, he said while sitting down. “I hope it’ll taste as good”, you chuckled. You two are in a comfortable silence, only interrupted by Steve’s compliments about your cooking or some complaints about work.

Like Everytime during one of those peaceful evenings you left the dishes in the sink to soak before going to the living room to watch a movie.

After, when you finally laid down in bed, Steve gently brushed back your hair from your neck and kissed your skin, pushing you onto your back before covering your cleavage and face with kisses.

Then he slowly pushed down the straps of your nightgown from your shoulders, before fully taking it off. “You’re so beautiful”, he whispered gently and kissed your breasts. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him.

Steve always complimented you and it made your heartbeat race every time. With him you still felt like freshly in love. It was always exciting. Never boring. His kisses warmed your skin like by the first time. His hands making goosebumps erupt on your whole body. Your body shaking from excitement whenever he made love to you. Or fucked you like a man starving.

“Steve”, you whispered when he slowly kissed along your stomach, your hands pulling at his hair while he suckled a hickey at your hipbone. One of his hands grabbed your thigh, squeezing the flesh gently. “I love you”, he mumbled, coming up to kiss you on the lips again, this time more passionate.

His hips pushed against yours, while his hands still kneaded your thighs. “Your skin is so soft”, he mumbled, brushing from your knee up before letting his hand glide along your stomach.

Even though you’ve slept with Steve so many times you blushed like by the first time.

He continued to kiss your body once again, his hands touching every inch of it. Sighing you enjoyed the feeling of his soft lips close to your core before he pulled down your underwear.

When his lips touched your core you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning, your hands grabbing his hair tighter and pulling him closer. Steve loved when you pulled his hair or when your thighs shook around his head. He loved every little reaction from you. Every little muscle that tensed from pleasure. He loved giving you pleasure more than receiving itself-not that it meant he didn’t receive any.

You loved to kiss his body. To see him relaxed after the missions. You loved…rewarding him. He deserved all the pleasure and happiness in the world.

The tight grip on your thighs will probably leave bruises behind, but you didn’t mind it. You wore his mark with pride.

His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking at the bud carefully not to overwhelm you too soon. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning at your taste, your smell. He loved everything about you, especially the soft whines whenever he licked your sensitive bundle of nerves.

A rumble escaped his throat when he dipped his tongue in your hole, your juices hitting his tastebuds. He felt his hard cock twitch at that. Even though he couldn’t wait to finally feel your heat squeeze his length he enjoyed feeling your thighs squeeze his head even more.

With one of his fingers he pushed into your wetness, the walls pulsing around his digit as he slowly pumped into you, stroking your g-spot.

Your face scrunched up in pleasure, gripping his hair even tighter you pulled him closer against you, moaning when Steve once again sucked at your clit.

When your orgasm hit you unexpectedly, your hands gripped onto his hair tightly, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. Steve held your shaking legs as he still licked along your slit before slowly kissing his way back up again, stopping for a moment at your nipples, “you’re amazing.”

Just when he was about to rub his cock against your folds you pushed against his shoulders. He understood what you wanted and let you push him onto his back, before you straddled his lap.

His hands grabbed onto your hips as you slowly sank onto his length, feeling every inch of him. Especially in this position. Fuck. He was huge.

“You’re so good to me”, he whispered while you slowly bounced slowly on his lap, still adjusting to his size. “You deserve all of it”, you chuckled while leaning down to kiss him passionately, before leaving a trail of kisses to his ear where you suckled at his earlobe and licked along his ear, making him gasp in pleasure. You knew how much he loved when you worshiped him with kisses. It made the whole tension in his muscles disappear.

“If you keep that up I’m not going to last”, he chuckled slightly embarrassed at how quick it was for him this time, but the chuckle quickly turned into a moan when you sucked a bicker against his throat.

You didn’t stop your hips movements, only slowed down a little bit. “It’s pretty hot when I can make you feel so good you can’t even hold back”, you whispered, grinding your hips against his, enjoying how his dick pressed against all your sensitive spots. “But I know you have a lot of willpower and can do it all day…or all night”, you whispered teasingly, before sitting back up and starting to bounce.

Your hands held onto his pecks, squeezing the soft muscles a bit. Seeing Steve laying splayed out on the bed, his breath being short gasps and moans, eyes closed…

He was incredibly attractive when he was in pleasure. You loved seeing him like this. It was definitely your favourite view, him relaxed and close to filling you up.

One of his hands slowly brushed along your body up to your chest, taking your breast in hand and squeezing. “You look so good like this”, he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours.

For a few more minutes you kept your pace, your thighs already slowly hurting from the movements but you wouldn’t dare stop or change positions. You wanted for him to come like this so you started moving a bit faster, his moans getting louder.

You held onto him for support while he lightly loved his hips up to meet your thrusts before his mouth fell open in a silent moan, his cock twitching in you and spilling his seed deep in your cunt. While he was still coming you moved your hips a bit, milling his orgasm before collapsing onto his chest, sighing loudly. “I love you”, Steve whispered in your hair, wrapping his arms tighter around your body.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know and leave some feedback <3 reblogs are very appreciated!

Taglist: @bisexuawolfsalt @rogersbarber

Does anyone want to be tagged? If so, be active by liking, commenting and reblogging! Let me know if you wanna be added:)

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #flood my inbox #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part One Summary: After her parents death, Lori is back at the club she grew up in and finds herself being sent away with an attractive but completely unknown biker.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.3k

Warnings:

Series Warnings:

Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part One Warnings:

Mention of death, drug use, violence, body fluids, slight angst, blink and you'll miss it implication of smut.

Authors Note: I've been working on this story for about nine months, maybe more? I keep thinking I'm going to forget about it, but it keeps worming its way back into my brain and the only way to purge it is to write it and post it, so I woke up this morning and decided fuck it, post it.

I have a heap of people to thank for discussing the story with me and for beta reading. Because it's been such a long process, if I have forgotten you, I sincerely apologise. So thanks a million to @amberangel112 @henryobsessed @littlefreya @nashibirne

I hope you enjoy it!

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Two

Lori

When I noticed the gathering started winding down and some of the out of state clubs began to leave, I was able to breathe a little easier for the first time in two weeks.

Although I thought it unlikely that the uneasy truce of a wake would be disturbed by anything more than a punch up, I still worried about it and the subsequent attention of the media and the cops. I had hopes that my face wouldn't be plastered all over the news, but it seemed a little unlikely given the scrutiny that the funeral had been under. I was under no illusions that my brother would escape unscathed.

Thinking of my brother made me glance at Nate. 

I sighed; It was a good thing the media weren’t here now, and the cops were too chicken shit to try and breach the walls of the compound.

With a rolled-up $50 note up his nose and two women hanging off him, Nate was the epitome of the biker stereotype. His dirty blonde hair hung to his shoulders, his face was hardened and scarred, making him seem older than his thirty years, as did the tattooed cursive on his forehead just beneath his hairline. 

Nate took his hit, throwing his head back and wiping at his nose. He grinned as he sniffed and handed the note to one of the girls. I could hear his snort across the room and above the thrumming beat of the dance music; his nostrils must be fucked. 

From what I knew, he’d been like this for days, and although normally he tried to hide the extent of his drug habit from me, the fact he was openly high and allowing one of the girls to rub his crotch showed how far gone he was.

I’d like to think his behaviour was a one off, that it was his way of dealing with Mum and Dad's death. But I doubted it.

So much had changed since I last spent any time at the clubhouse to the point where it was almost unrecognisable. The common room used to be homey despite being in an industrial building; carpeted with soft sofas, plush rugs and sturdy wooden coffee tables. Now it was like a nightclub, complete with stripper poles, black and red leather sofas, smoky glass topped tables, and neon lights.

I hated it.

Crossing my legs, I started to get angry. I used to love coming here when Dad was President, seeing all my uncles and their families. Even memories of the sweets and sodas the guys used to sneak me behind my mother’s back wasn’t enough to calm my mood. Thoughts of the last few times I was here were too vivid. Seeing what my father and brother had become and the way my uncles had stopped seeing me as a little girl made me stop coming here about five years ago. It was also about the time Mum had finally decided to divorce Dad.

I’d had enough, seen enough. Nate didn’t even appear to be on planet earth anymore; he won’t notice if I slip out. I’ll just go home, have a long bath, maybe call Jake and invite him over.

As stealthily as I could, I got my bag and nearly made it to the small cut out of the closed roller door when a Prospect laid a hand roughly on my wrist. His fingers dug into my skin painfully and he pulled my arm with a short jerk, bringing me closer, until my body bumped into his.

“Hooks wants a word,” he said, all smug and grinning as if this idiot knew what Nate would want with me. 

I didn’t know him, but I knew a million like him, and he thinks he knows me. He thinks I’m just another girl, one of the desperate groupies who hang around hoping to tame a wild biker or use them for drugs or clout. He obviously didn’t know Nate was my brother, or he’d never lay a hand on me.

Looking down at my wrist, I smirked before raising my eyes, letting as much of my anger seep through as I dared. I may have been out of the life for years, but I still knew how to play the game.

“I suggest you remove your hand, Prospect before…”

I didn’t get to finish my warning as a fist smashed into the boy’s face. His nose made a sickening crunch followed by a crimson spray of blood which splattered on the floor barely missing my heels.

The fist belonged to Hustle who was grinning like a Cheshire cat at the chance to expel some pent up aggression. He was Nate’s Sergeant at Arms, his enforcer, and my father’s before that. He loved a bit of a fight, but he wasn’t crazy, his violence was usually held on a tight leash.

“Fuck off, pup,” he growled. His eyes danced, obviously not 100% sober, but it was alcohol rather than drugs that Hustle preferred.

The Prospect held his nose and his tongue, but the fiery hatred that burned in his eyes couldn’t be hidden.

“Hooks wants her,” he managed to say, spitting blood onto the concrete floor.

“I’ll take her to her brother,” Hustle said, amused at the way the Prospect's face went white and his eyes widened. Hustle chuckled as the Prospect mumbled apologies to me and scampered away.

“Think he’ll make it?” I asked Hustle when he turned back to me. 

Hustle shrugged, it wasn’t really his decision to make but being a senior member of the club, his opinion had weight. 

“Takes a punch like a champ, that’s a good sign.” Then he smiled at me, “You alright, Babycakes?”

I mirrored his smile, I couldn’t help it; until two weeks ago no one had called me Babycakes in years. I had almost forgotten the nickname until I was suddenly and violently thrust back into this world. 

The name had been bestowed on me when I was a kid. I had complained bitterly that everyone else I knew had a cool nickname and I wanted one too. I can’t remember who first called me that, it was probably Hustle himself. He was one of the few guys in the club I still trusted, he never made a pass at me as I grew into a woman, and that had meant a lot to me at the time. It still did.

“Yeah, I’m good. What does Nate want?”

“Dunno,” Hustle lied smoothly.

I rolled my eyes at him, and he shrugged again. He’d defend me against anyone, but his loyalty was to the club before anything and anyone else, including me. 

“C’mon,” he said, putting a soft hand on my upper back and guiding me gently but firmly to my father’s old office.

The room was one thing that Nate hadn’t changed in the years since he’d slowly taken over Dad’s empire. The office was still clad in rich wood panelling, painted blood red, with black accents. Various memorabilia filled the room including a large fresco of the club’s Colours which drew the eye to the wall behind my father’s dark timbre desk. I remember when Dad commissioned it, he had been so proud to show it off.

Nate was standing near the desk, talking to another biker I’d never met before. I didn’t remember seeing him at the funeral, but there were a lot of out of towners there. 

He was good looking enough, with close cropped hair, a scruffy dark brown beard and bright blue eyes that seemed intelligent but still had that familiar aura of danger that I used to think all men possessed. Physically broad and well built, he didn’t strike me as a guy who indulged in vices the way Nate and most of his club did. He seemed fit, if a little soft around the edges; he had the body of a strong man rather than a bodybuilder. His thick arms were visible below the sleeves of his black t-shirt, revealing black and grey tattoos of engines, flames, smoke and skulls. Memento Mori was written in cursive across his throat, though it was partially hidden by his beard. My Brother’s Keeper was etched along one forearm and Never Alone across the other, both in the same elaborate script and gaudy silver and gold rings encircled nearly all his fingers. He would make an imposing figure to anyone who hadn’t grown up with men like him.

His jacket was hanging on the back of one of the chairs in front of my father’s desk. I couldn’t place the colours, except of course for the 1% patch. He had to be from out of state, I knew all the clubs in Nevada, but I had never heard of The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood and the large wolf’s head howling at the moon was too recognisable for me to have forgotten a patch like that.

Out of Town nodded towards me as I entered the room. I thought I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes; maybe he had been at the funeral after all. He seemed polite and business-like on the surface, but his eyes studied me intently, lingering briefly on my breasts. 

To be fair though, his gaze was practically that of a gentleman’s in this world so I let it slide and nodded back to him before lazily flopping on one of the leather sofas, hoping my casualness would hide my apprehension.

“What do you want, Nate?” I asked, hoping I sounded terse rather than worried.

“I need to talk to you about some things,” he said, sounding surprisingly level-headed considering the copious amounts of drugs he’s been taking. The words ‘functional addict’ crossed my mind. 

“I’ve been here all day, hell, I’ve been around for nearly two weeks. You’ve had all that time to talk to me, now I’m tired and I want to go home. Can’t we talk about it tomorrow?”

“The contact only just got finalised,” he explained.

“A contract?” I shook my head. “No. You know I don’t want to know anything about—”

“This contract is about you,” Nate interrupted.

I blinked and looked from Nate to Out of Town to Hustle and back to Nate. “Excuse me?”

“For your protection,” Nate added.

“I’m not in the life, I don’t—”

“Neither was your mum, Babycakes,” Hustle said softly.

I felt a sudden chill at Hustle’s words. I could believe that in my brother’s drug-addled state he was being overprotective, or plain paranoid, but Hustle wasn’t prone to exaggeration. 

Hustle had loved Mum and not in a way that was disrespectful. He seemed to admire her, respecting her fidelity and steadfastness. There weren’t a lot of women like Mum in the circle’s Hustle ran in. Most women wanted to play the bad boy game, they liked the danger of a biker, the excitement of an untameable man. Love was rarely long term, and Hustle knew that as well as anyone after three failed marriages. 

It wasn’t just the women who didn’t stick around, most of the men couldn’t keep their cocks in their pants. Even Dad had been known to screw around on occasion while he was still married to Mum. It was the life and it was another reason I avoided it.

“You said she was collateral damage, you said she wasn’t a target,” I said to Hustle, unable to keep the accusation of dishonesty from my tone.

“New information has come to light,” Nate responded and I turned my ire towards him with a glower. He raised a finger at me and continued, “Specific threats against all our families. Most of the guys have already moved their women and kids out of state, and since I don’t have a woman or kids, the threat is on the last of my family. You.”

I knew where this was going now. The past two weeks had been intense and not just because of my parents death. Everywhere I went I needed permission from Nate and if he did let me leave, it was with Hustle or one of the other senior club members. I thought it was because of the cops or media attention. 

“Fuck.” I dropped my head into my hands. 

It’s not the first time I’ve had to leave the state. Hell, once a few years ago, Mum and I had to go to Canada and stay with a friendly club up there for three months. Anger boiled in me, I thought I was out, free from this shit. I should have known better, no one ever truly leaves the life. 

“How long?” I asked.

“Until the threat is eliminated,” Nate said matter of factly. I could have smacked him.

“Fucking hell!”

“I’m sorry, Lori.” 

I looked up at Nate. He never apologised and although it seemed genuine, it didn’t diminish my anger. He obviously felt guilty about something and I wondered how much to blame he was for what was going on; how badly he had fucked up? However, the appearance of regret in Nate’s eyes was fleeting, and he became cold and business-like again. 

“This is Syverson,” Nate pointed to Out of Towner, “His club specialises in protection. You’ll be going with him to their clubhouse just outside of Dallas and waiting it out with them.”

“Texas? Across half the fucking country? Come on, Nate, really? I thought you meant New Mexico or California.”

“It’s where I live,” Syverson finally spoke up. 

His voice surprised me. He was a southerner and his drawl was subtle but it was there, and his tone was soothingly deep. 

“We take long term protection cases back to the clubhouse. It’s secure and well fortified and more guys to share the load,” Syverson smiled at me. I suppose he meant for it to be reassuring, but it came across as patronising.

“You’ll leave tonight,” Nate said. “All the clubs leaving is good cover; no one will notice another biker and his old lady heading out.”

“Wait, we’re going on his bike? To Dallas? That’ll take a week!” My thighs and hips groaned at the prospect. That’s a long time on a bike and I haven’t ridden that far in years.

“Three days, if we make some headway tonight,” Syverson said and like a mind reader he added, “We’ll stop plenty to stretch your legs, sugar.” 

I raised my eyebrows at ‘sugar’, but Nate didn’t blink. Hustle gave him some side-eye that Syverson caught but ignored. That was interesting. Despite never hearing of him before, for Hustle to let it go meant this guy, or his club, or both, had some serious clout.

Looking at the three men I could see no way out of this; my shoulders slumped and I gave up. My parents were dead, my brother was a criminal and a drug addict, and I was being pulled back into a world I thought I had left behind. I wanted to cry, but I knew I couldn’t show any sign of weakness, so I stayed angry instead. I figured it would be better to give in and go with Syverson and try to worm my way home later. I knew Nate well enough that if I tried to fight him he wouldn’t be above handcuffing me to Syverson and basically allowing him to kidnap me.

I looked again at Syverson. He stared back at me, not trying to stare me down like a lot of bikers do, but as if he were trying to show me he had nothing to hide. His eyes didn’t waver as they held mine, no sign of shifty glances, no sign that he wasn’t who he appeared to be. He was either trustworthy or an extremely good actor. Not even my brother could look at me like that.

“I’ll have to go home, pack and change,” I said, waving a hand over my black dress. There was no way I could get on a bike in my tight pencil skirt and maintain any dignity. “You’ll let me do that, right?”

Nate grinned and nodded. “Hustle will drive you home in the van, Syverson will follow, get you packed and then you’ll leave tonight.”

Gritting my teeth I dipped my head to Nate. He returned the gesture and I saw again the brief look of guilt in his eyes. I glanced at Hustle, but he was already walking out the door.

I followed Hustle and Syverson through the clubhouse and got into the van, barely registering what was going on. I had too many thoughts in my mind and I was already mentally making a list of what to pack. I knew I’d have to pack light, bikes weren’t exactly ideal for hauling luggage.

I clenched my fists in frustration as Hustle drove out of the compound. Three days on a bike, plus God only knows how long I was supposed to be at the clubhouse. There was no way I’d have enough space for all the clothes and other things I would normally take like books, my laptop and my hair straightener.

I sighed heavily and looked out the window. It was already dark and I was a little hungry, but my anger and nervousness masked most of the pangs I felt in my belly.

“It's going to be okay, Babycakes,” Hustle said, confidently “The Club’s been through shit like this before and we’ve come good.”

“Back when you had Dad,” I pointed out, “He always had a cool head for situations like this.”

“Hook’s is up to it.”

“Yeah? Think he’ll lay off the coke long enough to think rationally? It was probably something dumb he did to get the Club in the shit in the first place.”

“Babycakes,” Hustle said with a warning tone in his voice.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me he didn’t fuck with the wrong guy or get too greedy. Tell me exactly why I’m being shipped off?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Of course not. I’m just a fucking mushroom y’all keep in the dark and feed me shit.”

Hustle chuckled and I stared daggers at him, crossing my arms and raising my eyebrows.

“You’re cute when you get angry, Babycakes.”

“Fuck you,” I growled, but my lips twitched and I had to suppress a grin, Hustle was just too damn likeable.

I stared out the window again and saw in the side mirror that a single headlight was following us. It must be my ride.

“What do you know about him?” I tilted my head towards Syverson riding behind us. “Do you know anything about him?”

“Supposedly ex-military, but that's just a rumour. They're all supposedly ex-something, but…” Hustle shrugged.

“No one knows?”

Hustle shook his head.

“Do you know anything about the club, The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood? I’ve never heard of them.”

“Not much, except that they’re small, selective and secretive. They’ve got a good reputation, powerful despite their size, specialising in protection and a few other things.”

I nodded slowly. It didn’t make sense to me that a small nonaffiliated club from halfway across the country would take me in. Always before when I was sent away, it had been to a branch of my fathers club, or one they were heavily associated with. It must be costing Nate a fortune for the club to work with him.

“It’s bad isn’t it, Hustle?” I asked softly, feeling a small spike of fear working its way into my gut.

“Just do what they tell you to and you'll be fine, Babycakes.” Hustle laid a gentle hand on my knee and gave me a fatherly pat before putting his hand back on the wheel. “They’ll take good care of you. They’re to be trusted.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson #syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x ofc #syverson #syverson x ofc #cpt syverson #captain sy #august walker fanfiction #august walker #august walker fic #august walker x ofc #walter marshall #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall fic #geralt x ofc #geralt of rivia #geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt of rivia fanfiction #mike (hellraiser) #mike hellraiser #hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser fic #mike (hellraiser) fic

[onboardsorasora]

🥂Enchanted AU: Part 34🥂

Hello Lovelies! Can you believe this is the penultimate chapter in this Christmas arc????? I'm so floored I can't believe it myself

Part 1 | Last Chapter

Part 34

The drive to the restaurant was quiet, save for the sound of the engine. Max looked over at Daniel to find him nibbling on his cuticles anxiously. He reached over to rest his hand on Daniel’s elbow, getting his attention.

“You ok?” Max asked, looking over at him then back on the road. Daniel nodded.

“Yeah, just… a little nervous I guess?”

Max made a noise, “there’s no need to be nervous. It's just us, we already like each other.” His grin was teasing.

“I know! But it’s like…” Daniel covered his cheeks with his palms shyly. He looked over at Max with soft eyes. “I’ve wanted this for a while I guess?” Daniel admitted softly.

Max pulled into the valet bay of a posh looking restaurant. “Me too actually. I’m happy we’re finally able to.”

They got out of the car and Daniel worried that his sweatshirt (he went with the lilac because it made him the happiest) and jeans were too simple for how high end the place seemed on the outside. Max stepped up beside him, his white v neck and jeans were simple as well. Daniel felt marginally better. 

They entered the building and the hostess brought them to a rooftop terrace, the entire decor and ambiance of the place changed. It was cozy and comfortable. It looked more like someone's (upscale) back patio, rather than a restaurant. Their booth was in a secluded corner, by a fire pit. Daniel was in love, it felt so homey and he immediately felt relaxed.

Max slid into the U-shaped booth and sat beside Daniel, their elbows brushed together. Daniel widened his legs until his thigh pressed against Max’s. They smiled shyly at each other.

“This place is so nice. Thanks for bringing me here.” Daniel looked around, taking in the view from their spot. They could see the city, down to the harbour.  

“Always, Daniel.” Max smiled at him, Daniel stared at the happy scrunch of his nose. 

“I didn’t expect it to be so empty.”

“Everyone is, of course, partying. I was thinking we could watch the fireworks from one of the trails so it's not too loud.”

Daniel looked at him stunned before his face softened to an aching fondness. Max truly was perfect. Daniel wasn’t a fan of loud unpredictable noises, and fireworks always scared the animals. He tended to spend new years out in the forest trying to keep everyone calm until the fireworks shows ended. 

Their server came and broke Daniel out of his thoughts. Max ordered drinks for them, a glass of wine each and they were left to look through the menus. Daniel knew what he wanted; the fried chicken burger called to him. 

They ordered and chatted about nothing until their meals came. Daniel’s eyes widened comically at the size of the burger. Max burst out laughing.

“Daniel, that chicken is almost as big as your face!” Max snorted, “how will you get it into your mouth?”

“My mouth is pretty big…” Daniel said, dubiously look at the sandwich from all angles.

“If you choke I’m filming it for Michelle.” Max threatened, nudging Daniel’s fork closer. Daniel gasped, scandalized that Michelle had gotten her claws into Max as well. That wasn’t fair! He would need to keep Lily away from her, Michelle can’t steal his friends and use them for her teasing!

He looked at Max’s plate, his steak looked yummy, but it wasn’t a fried chicken burger. Looking at the enormous sandwich from all angles dubiously, Daniel decided to be safe about it. He didn’t want to ruin his shirt. Grabbing his knife, he cut it in half, ignoring Max’s chuckles beside him.

Daniel stuck his tongue out at Max playfully. So far, this date was lovely.

The view from the ridge was great, the city expanded beneath them on all sides. Daniel’s grin stretched across his face as he looked over at Max.. who was taking something from the backseat. Curiously, Daniel watched as Max unloaded what looked to be a blanket onto the ground.

“Max?”

“I thought we could sit– like a picnic. It would be more comfortable than standing the whole time, y’know?”

Daniel swooned, unable to keep his reaction at bay. Dinner had been amazing, he was full of good food, and wine and Max was perfect. Simply perfect.

They settled onto the blanket, staring out at the view for a little before Daniel leaned to rest his head on Max’s shoulder. Max’s arm settled around Daniel’s waist easily, pulling him closer.

“Tonight has been amazing, thank you.” Daniel whispered.

“Thank you for saying yes. I was worried you wouldn’t want to.” Max shrugged and Daniel sat up to look at him. 

“Why would I say no?” Daniel didn’t understand why Max would think that.

“You were so upset, and before all that– I didn’t know if you liked me.” He said it simply but it was anything but simple. They had been in the right book but on the wrong page for so long, Max had started to second guess himself.

Daniel scrambled to his knees to look Max in the eyes imploringly. He grasped Max’s cheeks in his palms. Max looked at him in confusion.

“Max, I love you.” Daniel said simply, he bit his lip before forging on. “I have for a little while, maybe. You make me very happy, I’m so happy I came here! Being with you and Jimmy and Sassy. I love you. I don’t want to leave– to leave you, I want to stay with you forever… if that's what you want too.”

Daniel felt the moment Max’s face went from soft to incandescently happy. His cheeks widened impossibly and his eyes turned to gleaming crescents.

“Oh Daniel.” Max said softly. He cupped Daniel’s hand with his own large palm. “I love you too. You being here is the best thing that's happened. Of course I want you to stay! Already I was preparing to email my manager to see if I could train in Australia!”

Daniel made a shocked noise before laughing merrily at Max’s silliness, he threw his head backwards in his glee. Max eyed the line of his throat.

“Daniel, may I kiss you?” Max asked softly. Daniel stilled with a soft noise, his smile softened to something shy and sweet as he dipped his head. Daniel nodded, unable to reply. Max pulled him in closer, stroking the sharp underside of Daniel’s jaw while their breaths mingled.

Max took him in; Daniel was soft and delicate. Beautiful. He whispered his praise and watched as Daniel’s blush rose. Daniel didn’t look away. Max smiled sweetly then pressed their lips together. Daniel made a low noise, hushed to Max’s ears. He smiled against Daniel’s lips.

Daniel felt as if the buzzing in his ears died down with the feeling of Max’s lips against his. He couldn’t think. He’d never felt like this before– no kiss had ever felt this amazing. He felt like he was floating out of his shoes. He felt warm all over, in the best way. He curled his arms around Max’s shoulders and leaned into him more, pressing deeper into Max’s kiss. 

Max pulled away slowly, only to gasp. Daniel was glowing!

“What?” Daniel hummed, quirking a brow at the awe in Max’s face.

“You’re glowing.” Max whispered and Daniel blinked before looking at his fingers. They were glowing.

“What–?” Daniel was surprised, his eyes expressed his shock. He turned his hand this way and that before tugging back his sleeve to look at his tattoo. The rose bloomed, blushing a bright red against his skin. “Max!” Daniel’s mouth dropped in shock.

He locked eyes with Max’s wide but happy ones. Daniel was overjoyed, but so confused. How? Why now?

“I don’t understand…” Daniel whispered in wonder.

“True love’s kiss.” Max murmured back. Daniel’s head tilted to the side and Max tried to explain what Michelle told him.

“So… you’re my true love?” Daniel bit his lip, holding back his sweet smile.

“I hope so. Because you’re mine.” Max shrugged in a matter of fact way and Daniel threw his arms around him again. Max fell backwards on the blanket laughing as Daniel kissed his cheeks and nose and forehead happily. 

In the distance, they heard the sound of fireworks, the night sky brightening with the pyrotechnics. 

“Happy new year Daniel.” Max smiled.

“Happy new year Maxy.” Daniel grinned back before surging forward into another long kiss. 

Next Chapter

#one more chapter left!!! #enchanted au #disney princess dan #maxiel #max/daniel

[jedifarmerr]

Javi's Having a Baby (interlude)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader/OFC (no y/n or physical description)

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 2k. This is just smut.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Office sex (slight exhibitionism?). Oral Sex. P in V.

A/N: Special shoutout to @iamskyereads for her incredibly sexy professor fic with Ezra that definitely inspired this.

Chapter 3.5

There was a slice of artificial light from the ajar door, a dash of street lights splayed on the tile of Javier’s office. A soft yellow cast from the standing lamp in the corner and a library lamp on his desk. Stacks of research papers buried the rich walnut top. 

The sandwich weeks between Thanksgiving and Winter break were guaranteed to be busy.  Students hounding for extra credit, late assignments slid under his door, living on a prayer that their grade would change before the semester ended. 

Javier rubbed his eyes, dry from hours of squinting. One day, he’d finally give in and buy some readers from a drug store. 

A small knock sounded on the door, it creaked and the harsh light of the hallway spilled around her. 

“Hey baby,” she greeted him with a soft smile and to-go bag. Dressed down in a t-shirt and leggings, her tiny bump on display. 

She’d insisted on stopping by to drop off something to eat when he called earlier to let her know it’d be a late night. He didn’t fight her on it, it was useless to do so and besides it wasn’t like he’d deny a chance to see her. 

The door softly clasped behind her, Javier towered the papers together and shoved them to the side. While she’d already eaten with Marie and he wasn’t yet hungry, she decided to sit and keep him company for a bit. 

She glanced around the room, a far different look on her face than the first time she stepped foot in his office. She’d grimaced and called it depressing; she wasn’t wrong. There was nothing on the cinder block walls, no decor or lamps. Just a desk and swivel chair, a rusty metal bookshelf and a wooden seat for students.

She wasn’t having it. 

On her own fruition, she had redecorated the place. Dark-stained bookshelves encased the windowless wall, a scenic painting on the adjacent. The navy rug covered most of the jail beige tile, two leather chairs were angled towards his desk. Her final touch was a picture from their wedding day on his desk. 

His students always seemed pleasantly surprised by the homey feel. It helped make the long nights not so miserable. 

Pushing the food aside for later, she talked about her day, events at work followed by a walk and early dinner with Marie. Steve had called to make plans for when he was in town for Christmas. 

She rose from her seat, sauntering around the desk. “So,” when do you think you’ll be home?” She asked, finger tracing along the edge. Her head tipped to one side, a surprisingly mischievous glint in her eyes. 

He swiveled around to face her, leaning slightly back in the chair to appraise her intentions. 

“Still got a whole stack left.” He motioned at the papers on his desk. She puckered her bottom lip. 

“That’s too bad.” 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” He shifted in his chair, wishing she was close enough to grab and pull on his lap. 

This was basically foreplay for him. They’d always had a healthy sex life, maybe too healthy in all honesty. However, with her being so exhausted and nauseous, it’d definitely dwindled over the last few weeks. Not that he was complaining or felt a type of way about it. He never wanted her to feel pressured and he could take care of himself, he had a hand. 

“I was just ya know…thinking.” She slinked closer and bent over his lap, palms flat on the armrests to cage him in. He caught a whiff of her perfume, the remnants of a mint on her breath. The tight leggings molded to her hitched ass. His slacks bunched, cock pressed up against the zipper. 

“About what?” His voice was low and dripping with desire. Her tongue peaked out from her lips, tasting the arousal stained air. Her gaze dropping to the obvious bulge tenting his pants. 

“Hmm. Seems like you have a pretty good idea.” 

His breath escaped in a soft, sinful sound. She sank to her knees and the sight of her boxed between his thighs made his stomach clench up. 

“Baby, you don’t-”

“Shhhh. You’ve been working so hard, Mr. Peña.” She nuzzled his inner thigh, trailing her lips along the seam. His mind was swimming in a pool of liquid desire. Chest heaving, mouth bone dry, he gulped. “Been so good to me. Let me take care of you, alright?” 

“Fuck,” he hissed at the twinge of innocence in her sultry tone; the way her wide gaze locked on his lust-blown eyes, hands roaming to his belt.

She probed for an answer with a notch of her head. He eagerly nodded. The clink of his belt, a rip of his zipper, Javier lifted his hips as she tugged his pants down to a pool at his feet. 

Teasing him, she kissed and sucked at the tender flesh of his thighs. Tiny breathy noise broke from his parted lips. He’d missed the feeling of her intimate touch on his feverish skin. The way it made him melt into a puddle of lust. 

He bit down on his fist, silencing a guttural groan as she made a show of licking a broad stripe up her hand, wrapping it around the base of his cock. With a firm drag, she tugged at his weeping tip, lathering her fingers in his pre-cum. The wet slide down was delicious and a moan of her name came low and sinful. 

“Shhh, baby. You don’t wanna get caught.” 

For a moment he’d forgotten where he was. Although highly unlikely, the thought of someone walking in on her mouthing at his hip bone made his body thrum with want. She felt him pulse in her palm and her brows shot up, taking note of his reaction. 

Leaning in, she took the head of his cock between her lips, circling it with her tongue. His thumb caressed her cheek, down to her jaw and she pulled him deeper into her warm, slick mouth. Moaning at the heavy weight of him, the tang of salt hitting her tongue. 

“Fuck, baby. That’s so fuckin’ good. God. Your mouth. Soooo good.” 

She sucked his cock like a porn star; batted lashes, glassy eyes, drooling out the sides of her mouth. It was sloppy and lewd and humming with desperation. His body burned for her, brain fizzled out along the edges.

“So fuckin’ eager. Is that why you came here? Acting all innocent, but really you just wanted to suck my cock? Couldn’t wait till I got home, could you? That pretty little pussy need me that bad?” 

Her head bobbed with a muddled whine. Plunging him deeper until her throat constricted as it brushed along the back of her throat. 

“Want me to bend you over? Fuck you across my desk?” Her eyes rolled back, thighs rubbing together and she gagged herself on his cock. His balls drew up tight and while the sight of his cum dripping from her lips was muse-worthy, watching it drip from her pussy was otherworldly. 

With a growl, he pulled her off his clock; a protesting whine slipped from her shiny, puffy lips. Silenced by the surge of his lips, large hands framing her cheeks. The salty tang, the taste of himself, on her tongue made a possessive warmth bloom in his chest. 

“Bend over,” he rasped as his lips broke from hers. She rapidly nodded and twisted around. He lightly pushed on her back and she arched her hips. Hooking his thumbs in her waistband, he dragged her leggings down with soft kisses along every inch of newly exposed skin. 

On his knees, Javier parted her legs. Her forehead dropped to the wooden top, lip secured between her teeth. “Oh, baby. You really did need this.” She was soaked, a glisten spreading along the apex of her thighs. He pulled apart her cheeks, thumbs separating her further. Her cunt clenched for him, and a low groan bubbled in his throat. 

She mewled in embarrassment, burrowing her head into the desk.

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed, lapping up the wetness along the outside of her folds. Seeking more, her hips bucked and wiggled. He gave a light swat to her ass and a choked sound broke from her throat. 

The thrum of arousal was burning his veins, close to boiling. If he wasn’t on the verge of cumming, he would’ve kept her there for hours. 

“You think you can take me?” His tongue brushed her slit, flicking at her clit. She rolled her lips together to trap any sound as she bobbed her head. 

He stood. Cock in hand, he squeezed at the base while dragging it along her folds to slick him up. 

“Please, Javi. I - I.” 

“Shhh, baby,” he rasped against her ear as he notched himself at her entrance. “I’m gonna take care of you. Gonna give you what you need.” He kissed behind her ear and goosebumps ignited over her skin. 

He fought the surge of his hips as the tip of his cock slipped into her warm cunt. Her pussy was grasping onto him. Inch by inch, burying himself to the hilt. He gasped, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. She was trembling, mewling and sloppily rolling her hips. His hips bucked and hit the sweet spot deep inside her, the most erotic sound echoed around the confines of his office. 

His hand cupped over her mouth, the other gripping her hip to stall her movements. “You wanna get caught?” He taunted, “Want everyone to see how desperate you are? Show them how you fuck your self on my cock?” 

A fresh wave of slick coated his cock, the husky tone of his voice making her cunt clench around his pulsing length. He chuckled darkly and slowly rocked into her. 

He whispered soft praises, the flush of his hips met with a wet squelch. It coaxed her into a pliant state. Her hand winded up to tug on his hair, her moans filthy and hot in the dome of his hand. 

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet.” He stared down in awe at the shiny ring around the base of his cock. She was so sensitive, every cell and nerve heightened in her new state. 

“I - I. Javi - I.” 

“Come on, baby. Tell me what you need.” He kissed at her neck, burying his nose in her hair. 

“More,” she trembled. “More.” 

“Alright, baby. But I need you to be quiet, can you do that?” 

She keened, “Yes, yes - please. I need it.” 

He placed soothing kisses to her clothed shoulder while guiding the top of her body flat against the desk. She folded her arms and pressed her mouth against the skin to muffle any sound. 

Digging his fingers into her hip, the sweat of her thighs stuck against his. His free hand roamed to the soft swell of her stomach. “So pretty,” he cooed, a slight possessiveness in the trace of his hand. His strokes remained slow, but deep and precise. “My good girl.” A muffled moan arched her back. 

Once his fingertips brushed her clit, her body went rigid. Arousal prickled sharp against his spine and quickened his pace. Toying with her clit, her soaked walls sucked him in, driving him deeper and deeper. 

She sounded wrecked, and he wanted to hear it, wanted to hear her scream his name while bringing her to the edge, but not at the risk of the night staff reporting him. 

Desire burned bright and hot in his belly as he fucked up into her, hard and fast. Closer to the precipice. 

“Come on, baby. I can feel you, come on. Fuck. Soak me, baby. I wanna feel it, yeah. Come on. Fuck - yes - oh.” 

Her cunt spasmed around him with a babbling cry. With a deep thrust and a bit off growl of her name, he tumbled off the edge with her. Hips stuttering, the combined release leaked from her fluttering cunt, down his thighs. 

“Fuck,” she panted, finally able to catch her breath. She wiped the drool away, there was a ring of spit around her arm, a puddle on his desk. “Oops.” 

He chuckled. He slowly pulled out of her, gathering the combined release and stuffing it back inside. “Javi,” she gasped. With a few napkins from the to-go bag, he cleaned her up first, then him and his desk.

Redressed, Javier slumped boneless in his chair. She slotted herself between his thighs. His arms wrapped around her waist and he kissed her belly, peering up at her. 

“Glad I came by?” She asked with a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Always.”

#javier peña x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos fanfic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x ofc #javier peña #javier pena x reader

[coyoxxtl]

if you don't mind me asking, which is better, tripping on acid or tripping on shrooms. also is it possible to get cross faded or do they cancel each other out?

not at all I love giving drug advice :3c

It’s hard to say what’s better bc I love both but I believe they serve different purposes and thus, different experiences.

Acid trips are like, a fun loud party you have to commit to. Their trips last about 12-14 hours, and tend to make one pretty active. You wanna do like Everything, like watch movies/shows, listen to music, walk around outside, etc. Drawing is also incredibly fun on acid, and I can safely say they helped me understand color theory better than any class. Colors are incredible and everything has a rainbow veneer, one time it made Metalocalypse looks SUPER HD and I was convinced that it was a part that didnt exist outside the trip ghrheh. The one downside I can say is that having a bad/weird trips is fairly easy, since they last so long. I took acid quite a few times and my last two trips ended up being weirdly scary even though I knew how to handle my acid. It’s a fickle mistress, but I have tons of fun on it and if you take your normal pre-trip prep it should be gravy.

Shrooms (the ones I took were psilocybe mexicana) on the other hand are like, it’s chiller less neurotic sibling. Shroom trips only last about 6-8 hours, and they don’t wanna make you do shit lol. The kinds of stimulus I want on shrooms is v different than acid, p much strictly natural stimulus; sunlight, trees, wind and water noises…also dancing lol. Colors are still vibrant but theres more patterns floating around (funnily enough they look like the patterns found in pre-columbian mexican codices; mexican flavored visuals lol) They also make you Super social, like when I took some w two other friends all we did that whole trip was talk about awful work stories. When I try to watch something w a friend we just end up talking about what we’re watching instead of actually paying attention. It’s like a homey lil trip that makes you feel good in a soft and comfortable way. In fact, I took shrooms the days after I felt I emerged from an acid trip wrong. tho I can’t say I took a HUGE dose of shrooms yet, only 2g doses, so I don’t think I had a chance to completely lose my gourd on them yet unlike acid ghggh

I think the difference between them lies in their purpose, acid is made to be a party drug, a good time to have in concerts. It comes from ergot, a fungus that grows on rye wheat, concentrated into liquid and saturated in paper. and is theorized to be why the mass hysteria in Salem broke out into the witch trials. (baking the fungus into their rye bread left trace amounts of LSD that may have drove them apeshit) while Shrooms we’re used as medicine, for rituals of internal healing, and they definitely act as such. You also consume them the way they are grown in nature, save for some processes.

As far as getting crossfaded w them I have no idea I haven’t actually done that yet🤔maybe one day

#i hope this is comprehensive hegrhegrheg #im not good at this sorta thing but god do i try #ask

[moomoomooing]

✨ What kind of aesthetic do they like? 💋 How would they react to getting a kiss? (can be platonic or romantic) !! Feel free to choose one or do both Im just curious ! >v< Research research!

(i did this all for kyuu if thats ok-)

✨ ooo ok! kyuu has a really homey vibe tbh, for as annoyed as he his for becoming a mom friend, he takes his role pretty seriously. I wouldn't call him cottagecore, hes not nearly bright and soft enough for that, but he has the homey vibes of that, combined with his love of techwear pants and like heavy black boots lmao. He'll wear whatever top he wants with those types of pants and shoes. (this turned into his wardrobe LMAO) hes an adamant believer of wearing pajamas while home tho so like, catch him in his dorm and hes in a big ass sweatshirt and small shorts (like the short shorts for guys, he thinks its comfy ok) in house sandals walking around.

💋 lets do platonic first! kyuu's really comfortable with friends, and has no issues doing skinship with friends, but when it comes to kisses hes a lot pickier. He only really lets his friends do like top of the head kisses (hes short enough for it lol) and MAYBE a forehead kiss if they get lucky. He prefers saving kisses for romantic purposes, aka a certain lion, which brings us to romantic kisses! he loves them oh my god just smother him in affection. indulge him enough and he will not get up from bed and instead demand more cuddles and kisses. tho he will vehemently refuse to do kisses in public, for both platonic and romantic. (you can call him a tsundere but hes shameless when they get out of public)

OC Ask Game!

#moomoos talks #tunabesimpin #hug him and he might be nicer to you for the day

[crisis-arts]

I finally finished up a little diner scene I’ve been working on! I wanted to give it a soft/homey vibe, and then went crazy with filters and the Gaussian blur tool :v

And the OC behind the snake belongs to m0theyes

#my art #digital art #eye strain #lovecore #furry art #furry #anthro #rhys #maple #cryptid #cryptidsona #mothman #sona #az #oc #artists on tumblr

[shanniiine]

flowery love

the first short story to introduce the greater hoccosin region.

genre: romantic fiction

word count: 7058

you can also find it on my wattpad and on my writing portfolio

“Violet,” her father smiled. “You’re going to do amazing things with this little shop–for this, I pray.”

“Thank you, father, I couldn’t have gotten here without you” the young woman beamed, grabbing her father, and bringing him into a hug. “I just hope that the locals will accept me despite who I am.”

“This town is lucky to have you,” he said into her shoulder. “Never forget that.”

~ ✿ ✿ ✿ ~

Violet’s Violets opened its doors well over fifty years ago and in that time, it had cemented itself as one of the societal foundations of Hoccosin, the small town that was fortunate enough to be the home of such a cozy little flower shop. Over the years, as new people moved to town and became acquainted with all the intricacies of the small town that seemed like it was in a world separate unto its own, it became a commonplace rite of passage that in order to become a true Hoccosin citizen–native or not, one must purchase a bouquet of flowers from the double-V and gift it to another resident. Then, the gifter would be quietly welcomed as a genuine Hoccosinian, and they would be permitted to call this quaint, little town their true home. 

The humble shop was practically smack dab in the center of Verona Avenue, the town’s main street, and was known to be welcoming and homey beyond what words could describe. All sorts of hydrangeas, orchids, roses, daffodils, daisies, and a dozen other types of flowers spilled out the door and lined the shopfront, all in pristine shape and in the most admirable sorts of pots. Anytime an unsuspecting pedestrian would pass by, they would feel themself beckoned inside by the sweet aromas and beautiful blossoms, unable to resist the temptation to enter the cozy shop. Some might joke that it was witchcraft or sorcery, but any long-time resident could tell you that it was all-natural and that Violet really was just that good at tending to her flowers. She cared for them as if they were her children–which she had none of her own unless you counted the fluffy white cat that lazed around her shop or the local teens from the nearby boarding school who took such a liking to her quiet and kind demeanor, that they effectively made the double-V their after-school hangout spot.

There was a large, square wooden table in front of the front windows, which she used as a workbench to pot and re-pot flowers, but when it wasn’t coated in soil and plant trimmings, those teens could sit around it and do homework, or just chat–which happened to be what they ended up doing most of the time. Ivy, sword ferns, and other vined plants resided in hanging pots that lined the sides of the shop, while the walls were fitted with wooden shelves that proudly displayed plants for sale. Violet’s register was in the back of the shop, from there she could overlook her works of art, customers coming in to browse or find a quiet spot to relax, and she relished in all of it–for this, owning a successful business, had been her childhood dream, and she was pulling it off–extremely well, in fact.

“Hello?” an older woman feigned, peeking her head through the glass front door. “Could I ask for some help if it wouldn’t be too much of a bother?”

The woman had a curly grey bob haircut and wore browline oval-shaped glasses. Her face was covered in wrinkles, especially around the corners of her mouth and eyes–smile lines. Her eyes were a soft shade of green and her nose was as small as a button. She wore a cream blouse beneath a sage green trenchcoat and a long, pastel pink skirt that cut off just before her black loafers.

Violet jumped at the sound of the bell ringing and made her way to meet the woman who looked to be somewhat near her in age. “‘Course!” she declared with a smile, meeting her by the doorway. “And what would be the occasion?”

“For a loss...”

“Oh,” Violet’s smile dropped. “I’m terribly sorry that this has become of you, may I offer you a hug?”

The woman didn’t even respond, instead, she took the shopkeeper into an embrace. “This has been a long time coming,” she muttered into Violet’s shoulder. “But I’d be a damned fool if I turned down a hug.”

“Oh-ho-ho,” Violet laughed a little, draping her arms around the stranger and completing the hug. “A woman who knows what she wants, I love it.”

“Thank you for your kindness, stranger,” she croaked, pulling away, a tiny tear forming the corner of her eye. “Now,” she collected herself. “Where might I have to go off to in this delightful shop to get my hands on a bouquet of chamomile flowers?”

“Chamomile…” an interesting flower choice for mourning, she thought to herself, but who am I to judge!

“Well, that will be just right this way!” Violet chirped, heading to the far wall that was practically overflowing with all the different types of flowers on display.

“Oh,” the lady’s voice dropped. “Well, those are them, I–I suppose I’ll be ready to go in no time.”

Violet’s heart sank at the sight of this woman, she wanted to hug her again, to soothe her worries and remind her that whoever she lost lived a long life–well she couldn’t guarantee that, then a life full of love–or that either, drats! Well then, she could always count on ol’ reliable: this woman loved her late friend, spouse, child, second cousin, whomever it was that she so tragically lost–and that was enough in itself.

As Violet opened her mouth to offer some more words of condolences, the woman piped up.

“I know we just met, but I don’t have any friends or family in town so I’m going to the resting place all by my lonesome, but if it’s no skin off your back, would you consider accompanying me as I say goodbye?”

“Why–”

“Oh, what am I saying–I haven't even introduced myself; my name is Theodosia, my friends call me Theo–although I suppose no one’s really called me that in years, at any rate, if it’s not an intrusion–”

“Of course, I’ll accompany you, I’d be honored to. Anyone who gives a hug as good as that deserves some compassion,” Violet laughed. “I’m Violet, by the way, as the store’s name implies.”

“Oh, wondrous day, wondrous day! Thank you, Violet, you've made a friend in me today!”

Any sight of tears in Theo’s eyes was long gone, instead, the sadness had been replaced by a jubilant radiance–it was almost blinding.

“I can close up shop early today and we can make our journey to the final resting place in a jiffy,” Violet declared.

The teens gathered around the wooden table had been eavesdropping on the conversation–it was a rare sight to see Violet so invested in a customer. The oldest of the kids nodded to their friends after Violet’s declaration, signaling that it was time for them to scram. Books were closed and papers shoved into backpacks, and just like that, Violet and Theo were left standing all by themselves in the colorful store. “Well that was much easier to get those teens out than I thought it was going to be,” Theo said in genuine surprise.

“Oh them? They love me!” Violet half-joked. “But yes, they’re a good bunch, it’s always a treat to have them in here…” her voice trailed off. “At any rate!” Violet perked back up to attention. “Let’s get this show on the road! Let me just grab my coat.” “Oh but, I need to pay for the flowers–”

“No, you don’t! The manager says they’re on the house, and what she says goes, so I wouldn’t want to argue with her,” Violet smiled as she returned with her black, fluffy coat in hand.

“Oh no, I insist, please let me pay–” “Oh no, I insist. C’mon! Let’s skedaddle before someone else comes in with another story about a lost loved one and tries to steal me away from you.”

Theo shuffled her feet back and forth, fiddling with a single, white petal of the flowers she was now the declared owner of, “Well, I–”

Violet turned to face her new friend and met her gaze with a cockeyed smile. Just say okay, she mouthed. “Hmm, okay. Okay! Let’s go!” “That’s the spirit!” Violet cheered. “Lily, we’ll be back in a bit, you’re in charge!”

A white cat emerged from underneath the register in the back of the store, stretched her front legs, let out a massive yawn, and flopped on her side on the stone floor.

“Thank you for the flowers, Lily!” Theo said.

Violet cocked an eyebrow at Theo.

“Well, you said she’s in charge, I assume she must be the manager.”

Violet smiled at the humorous notion, “We should get out of her hair before she demands her bi-hourly cuddles.”

Violet reached for Theo’s empty hand as the pair chuckled, Theo accepted her grasp, and they were off to the races like two horses bred to run, Violet’s shoulder-length white hair bobbing up and down. Violet rushed out the front door with Theo in tow, both laughing from the sudden rush of adrenaline. Violet flowed through the sequence of motions to lock the front door as soon as they stepped outside into the chilly, late-winter air. Violet brushed her hands down her denim overalls and turned to her new friend. “Alright,” Violet turned to grab Theo’s hand again. “This time, you’re leading; where to?”

~ ✿ ✿ ✿ ~

Violet followed Theo along the sidewalks of Hoccosin, heading toward the western outskirts of town–the way Theo double-guessed every turn, constantly performing double-takes at every street sign, she definitely wasn’t a native, that much Violet could clearly tell.

“If my asking isn’t an intrusion,” Violet spoke up. “Why is it that you’re performing the burial here?”

“I grew up in Drexwood City, but ever since I was but a young girl, I’ve yearned to live in a small town. Then, after the loss, I decided that it was time for a fresh start and that this would be the perfect place to achieve just that.”

“I’m from Drexwood, too,” Violet smiled.

“How did you end up here?” Theo asked.

“Well, I was a boarding student at The Hoccosin Academy for Young Emerging Scholars–but everyone around here calls it THAYES, just on the outskirts of town,” Violet said, pointing toward a castle-esque building on the north side of town. “Anyhow, I was a boarding student there from the time I was eleven to seventeen, and I fell in love with the cozy little town, so once I had saved up enough money to support myself, I moved back here when I was just a few years over twenty and opened up the flower shop.”

“Oh, what a beautiful little story,” Theo mused.

Violet smiled to herself, thinking back to her younger years. In the time that Violet had lived in Hoccosin, she had familiarized herself with newcomers, the long-time residents, and every type in between. When someone would first move here, they tended to follow one of two types: the bluff, which faked exuberant confidence; and the tentative, the type that embodied the likes of a young child, lost in a grocery store, searching for a parent to no avail. Both types of newcomers would eventually fall into a sort of groove, eventually becoming comfortable enough to declare ignorance or to ask for help. It was always a pleasant sight to witness someone grow comfortable with the uncomfortableness that comes with moving somewhere new. When Violet moved back to Hoccosin during her early adult years, she wasn’t so lucky as to receive a helping hand from a local. The spirit of Hoccosin had greatly shifted in recent decades; when Violet first opened her shop, she was viewed as a spinster–shameful that she wasn’t married and instead opening a business on her own. But, as the social tides shifted, her single-ness came to be viewed in more of a positive light, eventually even being admired by some of the townsfolk.

Violet was lost in thought, thinking back on all the people she had had the pleasure of meeting during her life, as the pair strolled up to a poplar tree that looked as if it could tell stories of days long forgotten if one took the time to sit and listen. She snapped back to attention, and with a quick glance over her shoulder, noticed that they had just taken a turn off Huckleberry Lane and had found themselves in the Avon Cemetery.

“Here we are…he’s buried just over yonder,” Theo croaked.

‘He,’ Violet promptly noted the gender of the deceased, nodding to herself.

Violet took note of how Theo’s brisk pace slowed as they neared the gravesite. Violet hastened her speed for just a moment to catch up to her walking partner, she met her gaze and offered a supporting smile. Theo smiled back and reached for Violet’s hand, taking it into her own soft grasp.

“Here,” Theo pointed to a small tombstone on the outskirts of the cemetery that was only a few steps in front of them.

Violet released her grip on Theo’s hand to move closer to the headstone.

Chamomile, it read, “to my longest-standing companion; Je ta’aime”

“And who was Chamomile to you-?” Violet started to ask.

“He was my cat. The little bugger held on to life for some twenty-odd years, I hardly know what it’s like to live without putting someone else’s needs before my own anymore.”

Theo crouched down, her long, pastel pink skirt brushing against the grass and dirt. She mumbled something of a prayer to herself and then neatly placed the flowers by the gravestone.

“Thank you for being here with me,” a few tears streamed down her petite, wrinkled face.

“No, thank you for allowing me to be here,” Violet grabbed her new friend into another hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re–you’re welcome,” she sniffled.

~ ✿ ✿ ✿ ~

The following days were something of a blur.

Theo was in the process of securing an apartment in town, in the meanwhile, she was lodging at the Poshley Inn and spending the vast majority of her days in the double-V, assisting Vy–she had come to call her that, with whatever duties Vy asked of her. Sweeping, mopping, trimming, vacuuming, watering plants–although Vy quickly came to realize that Theo was a culprit of over-watering, so she found herself peeking over her shoulder, directing her as to when to start and stop.

“I’ll pay you a generous wage,” Violet offered the first night. “With all that you’re doing, you deserve a sizable one.” “Oh, pish,” Theo retorted. “I’ve long retired; this is an extracurricular and I wouldn’t be putting in the effort if I didn’t want to.”

That came to be a normal conversation between them for the first couple of evenings until Vy rolled over and chose to take Theo’s remarks at face value–something she did not tend to do.

Vy found herself mesmerized by the energy that Theo created by being in the shop with her. Her welcoming nature matched that of Vy’s, and her captivating presence brought a new type of intimacy to the shop; they quickly discovered that they were a wonderfully well-suited pair–in the work environment.

After Violet unlocked the front doors every day, Theo wasn’t long after her. She followed the same sequence of actions each time she entered the shop; skipping toward Vy’s cat, Lily, and rubbing her belly, cooing over her, decreeing that she must be the best cat in the whole wide world!

“Today’s the day, right?” Violet asked.

“Oh, well I suppose it is!” Theo said, popping her head up to look away from the cat and into Violet’s blue eyes.

“Alright, the first appointment is at noon, so we can close up for an extra-long lunch a little before then,” Violet said.

“Sounds perfect! Just perfect! I can’t wait to be able to call myself a Hoccosinian!”

“Well, to be able to really do that–” Violet was cut off by a young man, probably somewhere in his early twenties, sweating profusely, wearing a tweed suit and brown loafers, bursting through the door.

“I need– I need a bouquet,” he panted.

Theo’s eyes lit up at the sight of the customer. Violet was much more accustomed to helping the slow, thoughtful patrons–the customers who came in, demanding flowers in a hurry and rushing Violet’s process were never her cup of tea, but a necessary evil as part of being a business owner. Theo on the other hand was most welcoming to these hectic customers, she just had a magic touch–she knew exactly what to say and when to say it, something that Violet was never the best at herself.

“What’s the occasion, sweetie?” Theo asked, walking toward the young gentleman.

His hair was gelled, and he emanated an aura of suaveness–but not if you were to look into his eyes. His facial expression was that of someone in immense pain–not physical pain, but emotional pain, Violet had seen many people wear that same expression over the years.

“Anni–Anniversary,” he said.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Theo said, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. “Are you interested in an assortment of flowers or a mono-bouquet?”

“Whatever’s quickest, I’m supposed to meet her–oh no, now,” the man said, his face dropping.

“This calls for roses!” Theo declared, marching toward the back of the shop that contained shelves upon shelves of pre-prepared bouquets, the man’s head hanging low as he followed her.

“Here you are!” Theo said, handing him a bouquet of a dozen roses, varying in shades, a few pink, a couple white, but the majority red.

The distraught man handed Theo a twenty-dollar bill, nodded, and sprinted back the way he came.

“Oh shoot, does the twenty cover a rose bouquet?” Theo asked.

Violet smiled, nodding in response, “You know just how to work with ‘em.”

“Well, what can I say? I speak hopeless romantic.”

The two women laughed as they carried on with their usual morning duties.

As noontime drew near, Violet closed the register and grabbed her coat and clipboard that had all her notes, while Theo patted Lily and told her to not burn the place down while they were out.

With the brisk wind blowing through their grey and white hairdos, Violet locked the glass doors and smiled at Theo.

“If we cut across that way,” Violet said, pointing at the through-street right in front of the shop.

“Wait, don’t tell me, that’s Rush Street?” Theo asked hopefully.

“Very good! You’re memorizing the street names rather quickly.”

Theo smiled victoriously, “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Yes, well, we can head directly to the first apartment complex if we go across this way, then you can get a feel for the building, and see how you feel about the complex.”

“Well then, let’s hop right to it!”

The first few apartments were a bust, Theo wanted something larger, something smaller, something with a better view, something more private. Violet couldn’t blame her for being picky, in all likelihood, this was to be the last place Theo would ever live, she might as well get everything she wanted in her new home.

“Okay, this next one is pretty expensive,” Violet said.

“I make enough money, I sell flowers at a little shop in town, Violet’s Violets, ever heard of it?” Theo said.

“I thought that was an extracurricular?” Violet asked, cocking her head.

Theo’s eyes squinched as she grabbed onto Violet’s shoulders, “Oh, you.” She laughed.

As the pair approached the monochromatically colored townhouses, Violet pointed to the left.

“And there is that aforementioned flower shop,” Violet said.

“Oh, how wonderful! I could live right here, next to the shop?” Theo asked.

The townhouses at Landing Creek were the cream of the crop in Hoccosin. Forty townhouses with a decadent Victorian facade, each colored a different shade of wine red, beige, forest green, and a dozen other colors. The back row was the most coveted, as they came with a beautiful view of the Hoccosin River. Given the close proximity to the double-V, Violet had always dreamt of one day calling Landing Creek her home.

“The unit available is…” Violet paused, glancing at the notes on her clipboard. “Ooo, lucky you! It’s got a great view.”

Theo’s eyes lit up at the notion of a view, “You know exactly what a woman wants to hear.”

“It’s time to reacquaint yourself with nature and slow living,” Violet said.

“Lead the way!” Theo said.

Standing on the fourth-floor balcony, overlooking the river, Theo took a deep breath, “This is it,” she said. “I’m going to put in an offer.”

Vy stepped out next to her, taking in the view. “It isn’t too spacious? There aren’t too many stories?”

“No, it’s perfect,” Theo said. “I suppose, I could benefit from a housemate?”

Vy blinked, taken aback by the proposition. The two had become quite the duo as of late, but they still hadn’t even known each other for an entire calendar month.

Vy stood there in shock for a moment before Theo reached out to her new friend. “Oh no, I don’t mean that– or well, I suppose I don’t not mean that, but– I meant a pet. I could very much benefit from having a furry companion around.”

“Oh–oh of course!” Violet laughed. “Oh, of course, you meant a pet. The closest cat shelter is in Drexwood, I’m sure we could take a bus over there sometime this weekend and pick out another perfect little bugger for you.”

“Sounds perfect! It’s a date,” Theo said.

Violet blinked a few times and then smiled.

“I can’t believe we were able to find you an apartment, I thought we were going to have to resort to building one from scratch in the forests of Hickory Grove!” Violet laughed as she unlocked the front door to the double-V.

“I can’t believe you had that diamond at your disposal and waited until the end of our hunt to show it to me!” Theo said.

“You never want to reveal that you have a winning hand too early,” Violet said as she opened the door, motioning for Theo to enter.

“Oh, where’s the little precious gremlin,” Theo said, making her way through the front of the store.

“Mrooow,” Lily moaned, having been woken up from her afternoon nap.

“There she is!” Theo said, skipping towards the white fluff who had plopped in front of the register. “You didn’t set the store ablaze! I’m so proud of you.”

Violet exhaled a little laugh to herself and moved behind the counter, grabbing a loaf of bread, a butter knife, and jars of peanut butter and strawberry jam from under the counter.

“Tonight,” Violet began, “we feast like kings!” She said as she triumphantly placed the items on the counter.

“Oh?” Theo said, standing up. “Oh! Oh, PB and J’s–”

“This is always my go-to meal after an exhilarating activity like today’s.”

Theo slowly rubbed her fingers together and looked down at her shoes.

“But, if you’d prefer another option, we could always go to the Fresh from Scratch Bakery just down the street–” Violet said, unsure if she had done something wrong.

“No, no. I love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, they remind me of a different time in my life, before I had come into my own. I haven’t had one since then.”

Violet, unsure of how to proceed, walked around to meet Theo and took her into a hug. While she wanted to ask her what time in her life she was referencing, Violet thought back to all the times when her curiosity, instead of connecting her with others, actually ended up pushing those closest to her away.

“When–” Theo stammered, her head draped over Violet’s shoulder, “whenever we would have a hard day, we would make PB and J’s. If he had a hard time at work or if I had a hard time in the classroom, that was our tradition.”

‘He,’ Violet promptly noted the gender of the presumed deceased.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Violet said, stepping back from the embrace. Violet noted how flushed Theo’s face had become, her eyes now pinkish red.

“Thank you for listening,” Theo smiled. “Now let’s make some PB and J’s and make a new tradition, hm?”

“Yes, yes indeed,” Violet said.

~ ✿ ✿ ✿ ~

That weekend, Vy and Theo took the hour-long bus from Hoccosin to Drexwood City.

“It’s been so long since I was last here,” Vy said as the pair stepped off the bus and onto the sidewalk outside a high-rise building. “You’ll be the navigator today!”

A few other people got off at the same stop, joining the herd of people on the sidewalk being shepherded toward their varying destinations.

“Well, lucky for you,” Theo smiled. “The Cat Cove is just across the street.”

The cat shelter was surprisingly small for being in a bustling city. The kittens were separated in one room, running around and playing with each other, and the adult cats were secluded in another room. About a dozen or so kittens bounded towards Theo as soon as she sat on the bench in front of them, while Vy stood off to the side, just taking in the moment.

“Oh, look at this one!” Theo said as a tabby kitten crawled up her dusty pink shawl and nuzzled into her face.

“That’s Dom,” the young cat shelter volunteer said. “He loves being as close to you as possible at all times.”

Dom curled up on Theo’s shoulder and nuzzled into her ear which made Theo laugh. Vy’s nose crinkled at the sight of Theo enjoying herself so much, Vy admired how much of herself Theo was willing to let others see without restraint. Vy had always felt such a strong need to be careful and calculating, so to see Theo so unafraid to be herself all the time, regardless of who was watching, was something of a wonder to Vy.

“Oh, I love him, but let’s go check out the adult cats,” Theo said, putting Dom back down on the bench beside her.

The volunteer led them into the next room where well over a dozen adult cats were lounging in cat trees, on the floor, and by windowsills.

Upon entering, a small tortoiseshell cat pranced up to Theo and rubbed against her legs.

“That’s Minerva, all of her litter was adopted recently but she’s still a kitten herself,” the volunteer said.

“So young and precious,” Vy said.

“And what’s that one’s name?” Theo asked, pointing to a grey and white cat with a stubby tail laying on a bench by the door.

“That’s Remy, he’s a real sweetie. I don’t know what it is about our grey cats right now, but they all love laps.”

Vy watched as Theo slowly reached out her hand to Remy to let him sniff her, and then as she sat down beside him and began petting him.

“What happened to his tail?” Vy asked as Remy got into her lap.

“When the trap-neuter-release team found him, his tail was cck,” the volunteer motioned a harsh curve with her pointer finger. “So, they had to amputate it, but he’s as happy as a clam now. Aren’t you buddy?”

Minerva strolled towards Violet, making eye contact with her, and then rubbing up against her legs.

“I’ll leave you guys to it, if you have any more questions or need any help just give me a holler!” The volunteer said as they walked back through the door to the kitten room.

“Are you leaning towards any cat?” Vy asked.

“I don’t know what it was,” Theo said as the pair crossed the street back towards the bus stop. “They were all so sweet but none of them were it–if that makes any sense?”

“It does,” Vy said, the wind rushing through her hair.

“None of them were Lily…none of them were Chamomile,” Theo said.

“We’ll find you the perfect companion, we will,” Vy said.

Despite their unsuccessful pilgrimage into Drexwood, the pair hopped off the bus back in Hoccosin with wide smiles.

“So you were in Skógur house, is that how it’s pronounced? Theo asked, stepping onto the sidewalk.

“Yep, you got it! Aside from the Himinnur house, we were the most prestigious house one could hope to get into at THAYES,” Vy explained, following closely behind her.

“Oh, and why is that?”

“Just the…nature of the house. Anyone could get into Sólgulur, but to get into Skógur or Himinnur one had to either possess certain abilities or pass a grueling set of exams.”

“And what kind of abilities would one have to possess–” Theo began to ask, but Vy cut her off.

“May’s Diner is right over there if you’d like to stop there for lunch.”

“Oh! Is this the place with the famous cucumber soup that you mentioned on the bus ride?” Theo asked.

“That’s the one! C’mon, this way.”

“Howdy, Violet!” A woman around the same age as Violet and Theo said as the pair entered the homey diner.

May’s Diner had opened just a couple of years before Violet’s Violets and being just a few storefronts down, May and Violet had always had an amicable friendship. Just like May, the diner was incredibly warm and welcoming. May’s always smelled of freshly brewed coffee, no matter the time of day, and just like the double-V, was another common hangout spot for teens attending the academy. It was a Mom and Pop style restaurant, so there were only about twenty wooden tabletops around the diner. The restaurant was at about half capacity, with a few couples, young families, and groups of teens spread out throughout the establishment. A loud ding emanated from the back where an older man wearing an all-white outfit that was covered in grease stains stuck his head out through a window from the kitchen as he placed a platter of fries and a hamburger onto a ledge. A young Asian woman with long black hair wearing a pink apron who had been talking to a customer at a nearby table perked up at the sound of the bell, stopped her conversation, and strolled over to pick up the order.

“And who is this with you?” May asked, smiling coyly.

“This is Theodosia,” Violet said.

“Hello, I’m Theo,” she said, reaching out to shake May’s hand

May was wearing a white button-down with short sleeves, black slacks, and a half-length pink apron covered in brown stains of varying shades. She had tightly knit grey curls that reached just above her chin and elegant facial features.

Vy watched as May took Theo’s hand in her own and shook it gingerly. “Where have you been hiding this one?”

“I only just recently moved to Hoccosin from Drexwood,” Theo said. “It’s lovely to make your acquaintance.”

“Well, I’m overjoyed that you decided to stop by my diner today! Let me sit you at a booth and then I’ll get your orders.”

After perusing the menus for a few minutes, Violet ordered a small seafood platter and Theo ordered cucumber soup.

“So what was your time at THAYES like?” Theo asked, leaning toward Vy from across the booth. “What were you like as a student then?”

Vy blushed as Theo closed some of the distance between them. “Well, I was quite…rowdy…in my younger years.”

“You? Rowdy? I simply find that hard to believe.” Theo said.

“It’s the truth. I had a hard time going a week without causing some kind of a ruckus in class–there was one time during ch–” She paused, “During chemistry class, that I accidentally set a classmate’s hair on fire because she was flipping her head around near a lit bunsen burner.”

“Oh! Well, that hardly sounds like your fault. She shouldn’t have been acting so recklessly near a lit flame.”

“I suppose…I was still reprimanded by the teacher and my housemaster that day. That was just one instance out of many, so they always seemed to assume the worst in me.”

Vy saw Theo’s eyes turn sorrowful for a moment, a small, sympathetic smirk forming on her face.

“My time in high school was very different I suppose,” Theo said. “I was something of a homebody until I attended college.”

“Oh?” Vy asked. “What changed?”

“A good friend. She and I met during our first weeks there and did everything together. She was much more adventurous than I ever could’ve hoped to be.”

‘She,’ Violet promptly noted the gender.

“There was one night during midterms when we spent hours on a midnight stroll. Eventually, we found ourselves by train tracks, we followed them until we realized we had walked to the next town over.”

“Whatever happened to her?” Vy asked.

“We drifted apart, I couldn’t tell you why, but not a single day goes by that I don’t think of her and reminisce on how much our friendship meant to me.”

Vy thought back on her own life. How many of her friendships had seemingly ended out of the blue for reasons unapparent to her? She had the urge to reach out, to take Theo’s hand and commiserate, but just as she was about to do so, their waitress came over with their lunches.

“Oh, thank you Rai, darling,” Theo said, making space on the table for her to set their food down.

“Of course, and if there’s anything else that I can do for you, just raise a hand,” Rai, the waitress, said as she did a small curtsy and walked away.

“This smells divine! Let’s dig in before it gets cold,” Theo said.

~ ✿ ✿ ✿ ~

The following Friday, Theo only came to the shop for just a few hours. She stepped out early as there were to be a few furniture deliveries arriving at her new townhouse. As the evening drew near, Violet closed up shop a few minutes early.

“I’ll see you later tonight, Lily, love you!” Violet said as she stepped outside.

She headed straight to Netta Grocery which was just a few storefronts down on Verona Avenue.

Upon entering the local grocery store, Violet was met with the scents of freshly baked bread and aromatic fruits.

“Hey, Violet!” A gentleman in his forties wearing a sage green apron said over his shoulder while bagging a young woman’s groceries.

“Hi there, Nate, nice to see you,” Violet said, walking towards the bakery section at the front of the store and perusing the different loaves of bread.

After dancing her fingers over the various different types of loaves–white, pumpernickel, sourdough, rye, multigrain, gluten-free, she settled on the old faithful: whole wheat. Violet placed the loaf of bread into her baby blue knitted bag and turned away from the bread. She had never asked Theo what her favorite type of bread was, but she didn’t seem to have any complaints over the type of bread when they had been eating the PB and J’s the other day, so she brushed the worry aside.

Next, Violet moved towards the various fruits and vegetables, her eyes glazing over each crate until she reached the tomatoes. She picked out a vine of six plump tomatoes, each that were as big as the palm of her hand. Next, she eyed the onions that were in a nearby crate and picked out three yellow onions, and carefully placed them into her bag beside the tomatoes.

Then, she headed for the deli section on the side of the grocery store, eyeing each of the different types of freshly sliced cheeses. Violet selected a dozen slices of Monterey Jack wrapped in cellophane paper and smiled to herself.

The final items on her grocery list were butter and heavy cream, which she found nestled in the back left-hand corner of the store, next to the milk and other dairy products.

Standing in line, she eyed the various items resting in her bag and hoped that this surprise would be welcomed.

“Whatcha got for me tonight, Violet?” Nate asked as she moved to the front of the line.

“Just a few items,” she said, placing the bag onto the conveyor belt.

“Ooo, making your world-famous tomato soup?” Nate asked, scanning each item.

“How’d you guess?” Violet said, reaching for her coin purse.

“Well,” Nate said, accepting the cash from Violet. “I hope that whoever the lucky person is, they know that they’re gonna be eating liquid gold tonight!”

Knocking on the door to Theo’s townhouse, Violet heard a small crash and a distant “coming!” Moments later, Theo opened the door, her hair tied up in a bun, wearing a white blouse and a long flowing mint green skirt.

“Vy! What a lovely surprise, come in, come in! What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, I thought that you might be in need of a fresh home-cooked meal?” Vy asked.

“You know the way to a woman’s heart,” Theo smiled.

The living room was full of life; a burgundy couch in the center of the room facing the cobblestone fireplace, boxes strewn here and there, and paintings and portraits in decadent frames lining the walls where they will eventually be hung.

“You don’t stop what you’re doing,” Vy said, heading straight for the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour!”

After eating the liquid gold tomato soup and grilled cheeses atop a cardboard box coffee table, Vy and Theo leaned back against the couch.

“I haven’t had a meal that good in ages!” Theo said. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Vy said.

Theo yawned, reaching her arms out in front of her, and then nestled into Vy’s chest.

Vy’s eyes shot wide open, not having expected Theo to have moved so close to her. She wasn't uncomfortable with the sudden closeness, rather, she just hadn’t expected Theo to have initiated it.

“I haven’t had a night like this since he–my late husband, Nygel, passed on,” Theo said.

‘Nygel,’ Vy promptly noted the name to herself.

“He was a lovely man and a wonderful husband, the marriage was full of mutual respect and love just not–love-love, if that means anything,” Theo said, gesturing her hand upwards.

“I was never lucky enough to find a partner suitable enough for marriage,” Vy began, before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I had a lovely girlfriend during my time in the Academy, but our lives were on two different paths, and I refused to let my guard down.” Vy’s voice trailed off. “But ultimately, I’m okay with that, I’ve filled my life with plants and Lily and other types of love instead.”

“Love is such a fickle thing, I hope that one day we can both find it again,” Theo said, craning her neck up to look into Vy’s eyes.

“I hope so, too,” Vy said, maintaining eye contact.

~ ✿ ✿ ✿ ~

That night, as Violet lay down in bed, she thought about the last few weeks that she had spent with her new friend. Staring up at the popcorn ceiling, she considered all the years she had spent living alone in the small town. Yes, she had her faithful cat who went with her from home to work every day, but as far as human companionship, Violet had all but overlooked that department. Maybe it was time to reconsider her current arrangement. Maybe it was time to give love another try.

The following day, Violet arrived at the shop extra early, Lily right at her ankles. She wanted to prepare the store for Theo’s arrival–a homecoming, as it may. Opening the glass doors, Lily bounded inside, heading straight to her favorite morning nap spot under the counter. Violet dusted the shelves, wiped the soil off the sides of pots, and tinkered with the mechanics of the grow lights. Glancing down at her watch, Violet realized that Theo should have arrived a few minutes ago. In their short time knowing each other, Theo was certainly known to be punctual. Violet cocked her head, looking toward Lily as she yawned and slinked her way out of her nook.

“Sorry, she isn’t here yet, Lily,” Violet said.

Lily meowed hoarsely in response.

Violet chuckled to herself; a cat freshly woken from a nap was one of her favorite sights to behold–for it was one of the most vulnerable and precious sights.

“I suppose I can brew some tea for her,” Violet thought aloud.

Violet snipped a few sprigs of fresh mint from the windowsill, nabbed some spare chamomile blossoms off the shelf, and moved to the counter. She pulled a tea kettle out of the lower cabinet, filled it with water from the farmhouse-style sink, and plugged it into the socket at the countertop. She then retrieved two teacups from the top drawer and placed a few chamomile petals and some mint in each glass. Admiring her work, Violet continued to wonder what her friend must be off doing.

Half an hour later, one teacup now empty and the other room temperature, Violet was sat at the workbench, biting her nails. Lily meowed at her feet, brushing her fluffy tail against her legs.

Then, the door jingled open as Theodosia stepped inside, carrying the grandest bouquet of violets.

“I’m so sorry for my tardiness,” Theo said, sitting across from Vy at the workbench.

“Well, you’re clearly excused, you obviously were out on a very important errand,” Vy laughed.

“Oh, yes! These are for you,” Theo said, handing her the bouquet. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that in order to be a ‘true Hoccosinian’ one must gift a bouquet of flowers to a current resident, and I also learned that to date, no one has ever given you, the bouquet queen, a bouquet, so, I wanted to change that.”

With tears filling the corners of Vy’s eyes, she placed the bouquet on the table and maneuvered around the other side of the table to take Theo into a hug.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” Vy said.

“It was the least I could do, after everything you’ve done for me, helping me get accustomed to a new town, for being my first friend here,” Theo said, hugging Vy back.

“I’ve done some thinking,” Vy said, pulling away from the hug but remaining closely beside Theo, their knees brushing. “And I know you said that you want a furry companion, and I think Lily would be the perfect fit for you.”

“Oh–I could never take her from you, that’s preposterous!”

“Don’t be dismayed, Lily would stay with me, I am insinuating that instead of gaining solely a pet as a housemate, I would move in with you as well. I know it may be brash, but we’re not young anymore, we don’t have the need to mince words anymore.”

A smile spread across Theo’s face as she took Violet back into another hug. “Oh, wondrous day! I would be honored!”

Vy pulled back from the hug, staring into Theo’s eyes, admiring her beautiful face, and felt herself soften as her heart begged for her to fall into her emotions fully, deeply, and without restraint. Just as Theo would do.

Vy opened her mouth to speak but was caught off guard by Theo gently grasping her face with both hands.

“May we not mince words? Theo asked.

Violet nodded her head slowly, a small part of herself still unsure.

But as Theo’s soft lips took Vy’s into her own, she felt that everything was suddenly right in the world. She felt herself fall into love, for the first time, without restraint.

#greater hoccosin #shan writes #sapphic #sapphic short story #writerblr #queer #sapphic writing #wlw #wlw books #women writers #writer #writers and poets #writerscommunity #lesbian #wlw pride #queer writers #creative writers #creative writing #writerslife #writing #author #writer community #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #writersociety

[eddieheart]

SISTER WIVES

Fandom: Shameless

Pairings: background Kev x V

Words: 1007

Description: When Ethel gets fostered so does another sister wife. Alt 1- may 27 2022 - July 23 2022

GILLIAN

"This is Ethel." The room stood still the people were clearly shocked to see her. They were expecting something- someone different.

"And this is Gillian." Time passed quickly after that, nothing much happened- save for Ethel jumping into bed with Mr. Kevin.

Ethel was always quick to follow rules, she was born in the cult. My mother moved us in when I was ten. Up until then I had lived a normal life. I was a fairly average kid except that I hit puberty really young and was quite mature for my age.

I was married off when I was only thirteen, three years after moving in. Ethel a few years after me. She always seemed so happy for me, Ethel because I had married the amazing Clive before she did.

We were the same age when I arrived so we became fast friends, then like sisters.

I never wanted to marry Clive or have his children, but I did anyway. I don't care what Ethel does, but if Mr. Kevin comes anywhere near me I'll kill him, or just chop his dick off.

Everything I did there was for survival except for loving Ethel. I never thought I'd have family that close. My mother was a drug addict who, at the drop of a hat, decided to join a cult and marry me off.

I spent most of my life taking care of her, so I did what I had to do. I married Clive and never worried my mother would start using again.

I lay on my side, curled up in the makeshift bed they prepared for me. I stare at Ethel and sigh. I reach into my bag a picture, of me and my babies, my eyes start to tear. I fold it up and slip in my breast pocket before finally getting some sleep.

Things were normal for quite a few days, doing chores, talking with Ethel and not much more. It was a Friday when Mr. Kevin and Mrs. V said we'ed be going to the neighbours for dinner.

I put on the same dress as always and walked over with Ethel and our foster parents.

The house is quite odd in my opinion. There's two red heads, a bond boy (who's not yet arrived) a brunet girl, a little pervert and a black baby. They all live together without parents and do practically whatever they please. It's nice, homey.

We're sitting on the couch waiting for dinner when one of them starts to speak to me.

"So you're Gillian right?" I look up, at the littlest redhead.

"Yes I am, and you are?" I ask.

"Oh I'm Debbie. So you and Ethel are sister wives?" I nod and smile painfully.

"Yes we are." She nods to herself in thought.

I hear the door creek open and a tall blond boy walks in. His knuckles are red and a hand rolled cigarette hangs loosely from his lips.

He looks up and sneers slightly. He turns to face the the other ginger with a questioning glance.

"The fuck are these people?" He asked calmly. His accent is slightly unexpected, it's much thicker than the others'.

"Lip this is Gillian and Ethel, they're V and Kev'a new fosters." He looks down on me with the same confused look and I stare back defiantly .

"Eh guys dinner!" The younger kids piled through yelling and kicking about.

I walk over slowly and take an empty seat at the table next to Ethel. She smiles at me reassuringly.

The eldest- Fiona as I've learned, brings out dinner. It's as we're sitting and eating that the boy- 'Lip' speaks.

"So what's it like being a sister wife?" He smirks slightly.

"Oh I just love it! It's truest an honour to share our husband and our children." Ethel replies with a huge smile.

"Kids? You never said anything about kids?" Mr. Kevin asks.

"Yes I have a son named Jonah." She said voiced filled with pride.

"And you Gillian?" Asked Mr. Kevin. I nod sadly.

"Yes I had three." My voice is soft as tear threaten to spill over.

"Had?" V asks softly.

"The first was a boy named Jeremiah, the second was a little girl Maria and the last was little Joseph. Maria died shortly after childbirth, she had an infection and couldn't breath and the church wouldn’t take her to a hospital. Jeremiah was nearly killed when I tried to escape the first time, after that they wouldn't let me out side. When I had Joseph my husband, Clive, made me give him away to another wife who couldn't have children." The table is quiet.

“It’s an honour to share our children, Joseph was better off with our sister. Clive said what happened to Jeremiah was God’s punishment for trying to leave. I was so worried for you when you disappeared, I’m glad I told Clive.” I look to Ethel.

Shock and anger corses through me like ocean waves.

“You told them? I trusted you! How could you do that?” My voice strains. Mr. Kevin and Mrs. V look between each other.

I stand quickly from my chair, it screams as it scrapes the floor. I face Ethel, desperation laces through my voice.

“How could you! I trusted you!” My hand reaches out on instinct, the first thing I grab is a plate.

I swing it at her head and it breaks on her. She lets out a scream, the younger kids yell in shock. I lunge towards her screaming, I can fell someone’s hands holding me back.

“Jeremiah almost died! My baby almost died! You almost killed my baby!” I’m screaming and kicking now.

My legs seem to give out where I stand and I fall to my knees. I sob loudly, my heart breaks in two.

I can feel someone petting my hair gently along with whispers in my ear.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, everything’s gonna be okay.”

[biggityboppingboob]

blind date- au!erwin smith x reader

this one is a bit shorter!! i hope y’all enjoy, feel free to request AOT stuff if you like my writing!

WARNING: SMUT- MINORS, ANYONE UNDER 18, DNI

Includes: au!erwin, musician!reader, pet names, rough sex, p in v, alcohol consumption, both readers of age (21+), oral!(f receiving), raw sex, mention of birth control,

you felt like throwing up at the idea of another blind date. truly, it was horrific. you adored your friends and the effort they put into helping you find someone, but they did not think critically enough about these choices.

but your friend promised this one was different. jean texted you to be at the nicest bar in down, dressed ‘like a luxurious slut’, his words, and be at the bar by 7.

the outfit of choice was a black slip dress that ended just above your shins, and a red silk wrap that rested in the crooks of your elbows. your hair was curled, red lipstick on your lips, diamond earrings, you sure FELT luxurious.

you never thought your standards were too difficult to ascertain. you needed a man, a masculine man to give you the love opposite your feminine. you embodied soft femininity. as a musician, it made you fluid and emotional and strong, but deeply in touch with the feminine soul you cherished in yourself.

after a few moments, a man came up and took a seat beside you. it was evident he was your date, or god, you hoped it was.

he was tall, muscular, blonde, and simply breathtaking.

“i’m sorry i’m late, i’m erwin smith,” he introduced himself with a devilish smile.

you returned the smile, introducing yourself back.

the hostess took the two of you to a small table in the back of the bar and offered to take you wrap.

you turned back to your date, leaning on one hand and taking him in fully.

“so, jean told me you’re a musician,” erwin inquired, “what exactly do you do?”

you gave a smile. “i’m a classical musician. i play in the city symphony and i teach music at the university,”

erwin was impressed to say the least. you were young, yet successful and devoted. it turned him on.

your voice pulled erwin from his thoughts, asking him about his work and how he knows your friend jean.

you two got to know each other over the next few hours, both drinking whiskey. erwin found you fascinating, and you found him delectable. you two wanted to ravage each other for hours, but refused to be the first to mention it.

eventually, the tension got the best of you. you looked at erwin under the heavy lids of your eyes. the strap on your right shoulder had fallen without your notice. you were a sight to behold for erwin smith, and he couldn’t wait to see the way you looked fucked out under him.

erwin graciously payed the bar tab not soon after that.

you preemptively invited the man back to your condo. the drive back to the condo was peaceful, the two of you making flirtatious comments as his hand brushed your knee. erwin was desperate for your touch and your tongue, but he was a man of morals. he wanted to know how you felt under him, but he wanted that to happen when you were ready.

the walk up to the steps of your condo in the summer air were comforting. you held erwin’s hand as he trailed behind you, his gait causal.

you opened the door, and walked inside, inspecting him to follow you, without word. when he didn’t, you turned back and saw him standing at the door waiting for your permission.

“how am i supposed to get you naked if you don’t come inside?” you smirked, full of liquid courage. this was unlike you to be so forward, but it drove him crazy.

a low rumbling emitted from erwin’s chest, and he stepped into your condo, closing the door behind him.

the condo was beautiful. records and sheet music decorated the living room as shelves full of books made the condo feel homey.

you walked over to the bar cart in the kitchen with levi’s eyes following you. you had abandoned your high heels, and the straps of your dress had both fallen from your shoulders. you were an alluring temptress with no clue how deeply your powers harnessed the man in your grasp. you poured two drinks, before walking one back over to him.

“in case i haven’t made it clear, i’d like you to spend the night,”

erwin’s hand lingered on yours while you handed him the glass.

the tall man stood over you, domineering. it took everything in his power to not fuck you against the closest wall. your tiny figure was begging to be ruined in that black dress. jean had done you both a favor with setting this date up. you reminded yourself that you owe him a text message.

erwin finished his drink in one gulp, before closing the distance between you fully, taking the glasses, and setting them down on the counter- last thing he would want is to break your belongings.

you stood, innocently looking up at the captain with a smile so devilish, so greedy, he couldn’t wait to take it off your face.

then, you found yourself laying on the couch, erwin on top of you.

the skirt of your dress pooled at your hips as erwin positioned himself between your thighs. when he realized you were bare underneath the dress, it excited him more. your slick was running down your thighs and begged him to lean forward.

without much warning, erwin began to lick at the exposed bud of your soft and soaked core. the sudden movement at your softest spot nearly made you fall off the couch. thankfully, erwin’s hand was there to steady you.

the only way erwin’s skill and utter devouring of your cunt could be described is breaking a religious fast. holding himself back because he knew it was proper, wanting to connect himself to a higher power, only to break the fast and absolutely fill his soul and mouth with whatever was within reach.

you were fucked out before erwin even took his pants off. your moans and begs were loud and you were so thankful you didn’t have neighbors.

‘no wonder you chose to be a musician’, erwin thought as his tongue tasted your forbidden sweetness, ‘prettiest sounds i’ve ever heard,”

orgasm rolled down your body quickly, you begged for erwin, and you thanked god for his creation.

you barely had time to settle down before erwin was on next to you, pulling you to his lips.

“where’s the bedroom,” erwin growled against your lips, unbuckling his belt while you steadied on your feet.

you opened your eyes and grabbed his large hand, pulling him.

down the art-laden hallway and up a spiral staircase, a simply decorated bedroom was there before you both.

your instruments hung on their hooks from the wall. a massive bed with black sheets sat against the wall, and the modern decor showed class. erwin took in the beauty of your room as he pushed the dress off your shoulders, and down to the floor. your body now fully visible to him made him harder than he thought was possible.

he was quickly disrobing beside you. shoes kicked off, followed by socks and his shirt, his belt, his pants…

you led him slowly to the bed, taking in his beauty under the low light from the hallway.

it became impossible to tell where your body began and his ended. the speed and agility of erwin smith on top of you as he gently took your hair in his hands, and exposed your neck.

“i don’t have a condom on-“ erwin realized, nearly falling over in anger. he went to get one out of his pants before you leaned up and grabbed his shoulder.

“i’m on birth control, i don’t care, cum inside me,” you begged, “as long as you promise this isn’t the last time i’ll see you,”

it was a desperate pleading. not many man aroused this sort of passion from you and the fear of losing erwin nearly overcame the excitement of having him.

darkness filled erwin’s eyes as he crawled back on top of you, before pulling you up to his chest.

“trust me, sweetness,” erwin licked up the lobe of your ear, “this isn’t even close to the last time i’ll be in this bed,”

#au!erwin smith #commander erwin #erwin smith #smut #aot smut #aot #aot erwin #erwin x reader #attack on titan erwin