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acourtofwhatthefuck · 3 months

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Practice On Me — Finale — Azriel x Reader

Summary: The grand Illyrian ball is here. Reader is more than ready to return to Windhaven and Azriel, but daddy Fin throws a huge spanner in the works. Life as they know it is about to change.

Note — I’ve tried to tag everyone who’s asked but there are some people that it simply won’t let me tag 🥲

Word Count: 10.6k (oop, sorry 😅)

Warnings: There’s a looot to unpack here. Depictions of violence and gore. Some light smut. 18+!

This place is cold and unforgiving.

The air in your lungs is constricted before you’ve even stepped through the giant gates. They call it the Hewn City due to its entirety being hewn from cold, hard rock.

But you get the feeling these walls are more than that. You can feel the horror in the cracks, the loneliness that screams behind its surface.

You don’t know how Mor has survived so long here. You’re already itching to get out.

A warm hand splays across your back, and you turn to face Fin. It’s not the first time he drinks you in so hungrily, but you could be forgiven for thinking so, by the way his eyes heat all over again. He glances quickly at your lips, and in this empty meeting room that he’s stolen you away to, you’re not at all sure that he isn’t bold enough to act on that hunger.

“Focus, High Lord.” You murmur, brushing the lapel of his tailored jacket. “You’ve an audience waiting for you.”

Somewhat of an infantile groan leaves him — one you’re not sure he’d share with many others. He dips down and allows his forehead to drop against your shoulder, slowly breathing in your scent.

“And if I said fuck the audience,” he murmurs, “and decided to stay here to dip under this gown and ravish you? What then?”

“Then I wager your subjects would be mighty displeased that you brought them here for nothing.”

“I could make you moan,” his nose nudges your neck, “loud enough to give them a show.”

“Later.” You promise falsely, and the lie is sour on your tongue. You step back and straighten yourself out. “You have a duty to attend to.”

The way his eyes sweep you tells you that you are the only duty he wishes to attend to. But he relents with a sigh and inclines his head.

“I do.” He admits. “And I will have to play my role out there. I’ll be mostly unavailable for the duration of this ball, so…I want you to go and have fun. Just don’t stray too far. I’ve organised the evening’s entertainment with you in mind, and I want you by my side when you see it.”

For a beat, you can only blink at him. You’re…touched, that he would do that for you. And your mind immediately starts swirling with possibilities of what that entertainment might be. Perhaps a show of professional dancers or a theatrical performance.

You study him, attempting to glean information merely from the expression on that granite-hewn face. “It’s Starfall.” You remind him. “Is that not the evening’s entertainment?”

He merely smiles. “I’ll send for you when it’s time.” He leans down, coasting his lips over one cheek and then the other. “Enjoy yourself.”

Without another word, he turns. Rolls his shoulders and slips into his High Lord roll. But before he can take a step towards the door, you're grabbing his hand.

“Fin—” You blurt, and he stops. You swallow as you stare up at him. “Just…please don’t let Tathaln Baralas ruin the camps.”

His gaze searches your face. You can’t get a read on his expression.

But then the corners of his lips curve up, and he’s squeezing your hand.

“I won’t let Tathaln become a problem.” He says, and then repeats, “enjoy yourself.”

The way he prises his hand from yours has an air of finality that stops you from pushing any further. You want to ask — beg, if you have to — for his reassurance. But he strides to the door, sleek black shoes clipping against the marble floor.

And left alone, you think you may have done all you possibly can do. That the rest is out of your hands.

So you attempt to shake off your relentless anxiety, and you go to find your friends.

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Weaving through the mammoth structure and the sea of Illyrians that fill it, you’ve already witnessed three fights and two couples damn near fucking in nothing more hidden than the alcoves carved into the walls. Pretty tame for your people, but alas, the night is young.

There are so many pairs of wings. There is such a thick air of arrogance and ego and brutishness. You’re not quite sure where you fit in here, but before you can find a refreshment that will dull that feeling, strong arms are wrapping around your waist and yanking you backwards.

You scream, and no one around you bats an eyelash. You thrash and buck, but the attempt is met with—

Deep, smooth laughter that you know so, so well.

You relax in the offender’s hold immediately, and their arms loosen enough for you to twist in them.

You glare up at Cassian and send a punch to his bicep. “Asshole.”

“Ow!” He chokes on another laugh, and then he’s grinning brilliantly, white teeth gleaming in the fae light. “Hello, Sweetpea. I’ve missed you.”

Fuck, you’ve missed him too. And that’s all it takes for you to throw your arms around him and squeeze.

He smells like Cass. That rugged scent of his that is such a comfort. And the way he hugs you back, firm yet gentle, warm and loving and present, tells you that any previous anger he had towards you is a thing of the past.

“Windhaven is fucking boring without you.” He pulls back, holding you at arms length — and blinks. “Holy gods, look at you.”

“Look at you.” Your eyes rove over him, from his tailored, maroon-coloured suit to his brushed, slicked-back hair. His wings are squeaky clean and flared proudly. He’s stunning. Breathtaking.

He cracks another Cassian grin. “Who knew we could brush up so well, hey, Sweetpea? You’re absolutely gorgeous. I’ll be the envy of all these Illyrian males, knowing I fucked you—”

“Cassian.” You land another hit to his bicep. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ve actually been sent to collect you. A certain someone is waiting for you on a patio. I’ll give you a clue — he, too, has fucked you—”

With a roll of your eyes, albeit a fond one, you’re breezing past him with a feeling of…need. To see Azriel. To have him ground you in a place and circumstance of such unfamiliarity. You need that comfort.

Cass follows promptly, slinging an arm around your shoulder — not just because he’s missed you, but because the leering eyes of hundreds of Illyrian males follow your every step. Those gazes seem to drink in your dress bead by little bead. They’re hungry for sex and for violence.

“Out here.” Your friend steers you down a hallway, untouched by not only guests, but also the horrific brilliance of the rest of this place. This is an area that most aren’t supposed to see, with chipped concrete floors and peeling walls. It’s so cold, so ugly and uninviting, that you can’t imagine why Azriel would summon you here, of all places.

But then a door appears at the end of the winding hall, open just enough for a sliver of moonlight to touch the threshold. The fresh air has goosebumps spreading over your skin.

“He wanted some private time with you. Rhys and I said we’d keep watch.” Cass studies you and huffs a deep, dramatic sigh. “I’m trying really hard not to feel left out right now.”

“I’m sure you don’t really want to be the third wheel—”

“Sure I do. I’ve told Az that he wouldn’t even know I’m there, but no, he wants you all to himself. Selfish bastard.” He reaches out, pulling the door open wider for you. And then he calls, “I hope you heard that, fucker!”

Strong footsteps emerge from argent moonlight, and Azriel’s voice is a lilting shiver across your skin. “You know I heard it, you idiot.” He says. “You…”

His words trail off as he takes you in, and suddenly you don’t know what to do with your hands, your face, with any part of you.

His stare holds the weight of a very ancient love, so much older than the both of you. It somehow translates that you had his heart in a previous life, when you were different people entirely, and you’ll still have it in the next, when your souls begin anew.

He swallows, loud enough that you all hear it. And his voice is husky as he says, “There are no words worthy of you.”

And you’re hit with a strange urge to cry. Mostly because you feel exactly the same way about him.

He is…exquisite. He’s slicked his hair back, and that alone is a huge thing for him — to openly show each and every curve and line of his face, with no strands to hide behind. The curtain of his thick, dark lashes only accentuates the honey of his eyes and the gold of his skin.

And the suit he’s donned for the evening — that same maroon colour that Cass is wearing. You wonder if Rhys, wherever he is, is wearing the same. Whether the trio look as breathtaking together as you expect them to.

“No words.” Az repeats, shaking his head. “The Mother herself must have sent you to me.”

Cassian smirks and rests an elbow atop of your head, regardless of your perfected hair. “I said the same.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, I said something similar.”

“It wasn’t even close to that.”

“Be grateful of my winning charm—”

“Cassian.” Az cuts him off. “Why don’t you go and find Rhys?”

Cass lets out an infantile whine. “But he’s having private time with Zakai.”

“And I’d like to have some private time with Y/N, so. Run along.”

Your friend offers a great, dramatic huff that makes you grin, but he removes his arm from your head and turns.

“This whole coupling up thing is boring!” He calls, retreating down the hall.

And then it’s just you and Azriel.

Your love. Your heart.

You turn back to him with a coy smile, reaching up to fix your hair.

“Let me.” Az murmurs, and he steps closer, his fingers sinking into the strands of your hair. Up close, you drink him down even more, greedy and insatiable. You want to know every expression, every thought.

“There are no words worthy of you, either.” You whisper, and his eyes drop down from your hair to meet yours. “You’re a vision, Az.”

He studies you for a moment. And though his hands leave the strands, they lower only to cup your face. His thumb strokes your cheek.

“What I am,” he murmurs, “is yours.”

Your eyes shutter, and you drop your forehead against his. Every last bit of trouble and turmoil you’ve experienced has been worth it to hear those words. You want them to mark your skin.

You push up onto the tips of your toes, slanting your mouth over Azriel’s. He wastes no time in sliding his hands to your waist and hauling you close to him.

You kiss him like doing so here isn’t risky. Like you have the freedom to kiss him whenever and however you both want, and there are no outer forces getting in the way. You long for the day when that will be the case. When you can love, and love proudly.

Perhaps that luxury isn’t too far out of reach.

Az seems to think so, too, as he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours once more, and he says, breathlessly, “Things are going to change — after tonight. I can feel it.”

You study him, searching for deeper meaning. And as though they can sense your anxiety, his shadows snake around your ankles in a soothing caress. “A good change, I hope.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. Me and you. I’m yours.”

You peck him once, twice. “And I am yours.”

Those words alone are enough to make heat blaze in his eyes. With adoration making way for passion, lust, he allows his gaze to rake over you, and he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip.

“So fucking gorgeous.” His voice is guttural. “If we didn’t have to attend this ball right now, I would—”

The door flies open behind you, and Az looks more than ready to throttle Cassian as he prances back into sight and announces, “Found Rhys!”

“And we brought booze.” Rhys swiftly follows with a smirk. “Raided personally, by me, from my asshole father’s stash.”

Sure enough, his suit matches the other two. And seeing the three of them together like that, looking so beautiful, so proper, so…matured—

A lump forms in your throat that you force down. You furiously blink away the tears that sting your eyes.

Because it hits you, just then, how much you’ve missed this — the four of you, just being together, like old times. You were always such a strong unit, always driven by your love for one another, and the dysfunctional, unconventional, beautiful family you became. It’s been a long while since you looked upon these three males without burdening thoughts always remaining a step away. You miss the ease. You miss the love.

But here it is, right in front of you, just like it always will be. And in that moment, nothing else matters but your little unit. Just you, Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand.

As you shake out of your thoughts, you realise Rhys is staring at you just as intensely. Strong emotion swims in his eyes.

“…What?” You ask, smoothing your hands over your dress.

“You just…look incredible.” He smiles softly. “Every single star that soars above our heads tonight will have nothing on you.”

Just as you think you’re about to get choked up all over again, Cassian smirks and declares, “I said the same.”

You scowl, reaching out to swat him. “No, you did not. Just accept you’re bad at compliments and move on.”

“I’m a master at compliments, thank you very much.”

Az slides an arm around your waist and quirks an eyebrow. “You took Sacha for a drink and complimented her by saying you look like you bathed. You’re hardly a poet, Cass.”

It’s Cassian’s turn to scowl then. “Well, what I may lack in poetry, I make up for in the bedroom. As Y/N clearly knows.”

A snarl rips from Azriel’s throat. “Watch yourself.”

Rhys rolls his eyes and smacks Cassian upside the head. “Don’t wind him up, dickhead.”

“Who are you calling dickhead?”

“I’m calling you dickhead, dickhead.”

The bickering becomes background noise as you prise the bottle from Rhys’s hand and take a generous swig — none of which he even notices, as he and Cass continue taking swipes at each other.

And as the liquid burns your throat, you meet Azriel’s gaze. Both of you grin. He takes the bottle from you.

In that moment, all you feel is happiness. Beautiful familiarity. Rhys and Cassian tearing chunks out of each other while you and Azriel watch and laugh from the sidelines. It makes your heart feel heavy with such warmth that it may just burst.

You do not need lavishness or luxury. Your life is nothing special, but you do not want for anything.

Just this. Only this.

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“Who knew so many Illyrians could dance?”

Rhysand’s steps are swift and flawless. It’s situations like these — ones of strict propriety and, dare you say, class — that you’re reminded he’s only half-Illyrian. The other males around you may be trying their hand at dancing, but Rhys flows through each number with barely a thought.

You smile up at him, secure in his hold. A dance floor full of Illyrians is a temperamental and, quite frankly, stupid idea. Anyone who gets too close to another’s wings is asking for a punch. Or five.

But so far, it’s been surprisingly uneventful. And you might even begin to relax and enjoy yourself — if not for the images you keep glimpsing in your periphery.

Every now and then, a flash of bright red will pass you by as Kaeda is spun from one set of burly arms to another. Her dress is the same shade as her hair. It’s alarming. Makes you think of blood.

And even more alarming, perhaps, is the pair of eyes that follow you from the dais. Fin spares only cursory glances to the rest of his guests, from where he sits on his throne in pensive silence, but his eyes linger heavily on you. Hungry, flaming eyes that follow your every move. And standing at his side — Tathaln Baralas.

The Lord of Fenlaros is even bigger than you remember. In a tailored suit, he looks…all wrong. That kind of finery will never work with him. He’s rugged, and cold, and something tells you that while Fenlaros is considerably more civilised than the majority of Illyrian camps, Tathaln Baralas feels most at home with the bare necessities. Luxury is nothing but a fly buzzing in his ear.

But he will tolerate that fly, you know — can tell, precisely from the way his dark, frightening eyes watch the room with more intensity than any single person should harbour. And that intensity is directed solely at one person. Azriel.

Tathaln watches the shadowsinger as though he’s weighing up whether he can kidnap him from this event and force him to Fenlaros. It makes your stomach turn.

“You seem on edge tonight.” Rhys’s deep gaze studies you. His hand presses firmer against the small of your back. “I won’t let anything happen to you, don’t worry.”

You’re not sure if he’s referring to his father, or to Kaeda, or to her father. Or even just to the evening in general. But you squeeze his hand, all the same.

“You’re the best.” You tell him. “And you should be dancing with Zakai.”

His eyes glimmer with his signature charm. “Oh, I will. But I always intended to save the first dance for my best girl.”

The sentiment is so…Rhysand, so comforting, that you almost — almost — start to think that everything will be alright.

But he spins you under his arm, and it’s like being spun straight back into reality. Because as you turn, that gaze from up on the dais meets yours again.

And this time, it’s not just hungry — but possessive.

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You dance and dance until your feet feel like they might fall off. Although, you’re not sure how much of that can be attributed to Cassian stepping on them throughout his uncoordinated prancing.

But the more the night wears on, the more your stomach churns with deep, unrelenting anxiety. You feel sick. Like a shadow of doom is looming over your shoulder and waiting to pull you into its thrall. By the time Cassian hands you over to Azriel, you’re not entirely sure that you won’t be sick.

Az studies your face with clear concern on his own — concern that doesn’t make his steps falter. He’s a natural dancer, taught and honed by Roza. Almost as good as Rhys. He moves as swift as flying, but his expression doesn’t hold the same ease.

“What is it?” He asks, and his thumb sweeps a stroke over your hip. “You don’t look well.”

So badly, you want to lean into his touch. But…not now — not with Fin watching. You dare a quick glance at the dais, and sure enough, his eyes stalk you. They follow everywhere Azriel touches your body. Strangely, the hunger in them intensifies. The hickory shade of them has darkened until it’s almost a stark black. He licks his lips and watches Azriel’s fingers caress you through your dress.

“I’m just…ready for this night to be over. You know all this luxury isn’t my thing.”

His hands press firmer against your skin. “I must say, as much as I’m loving this dress, I’m equally excited to rip it off—”

“May I?”

Two seconds. You look away for two seconds, and Fin is suddenly off the dais and behind you. The guests around you all watch with curious eyes.

Azriel pauses, his lingering touch letting you know just how reluctant he is to let you go.

But ultimately, he is wise. And ultimately, he concedes.

“Of course, High Lord.” He inclines his head. “She’s your special guest, after all.”

“Yes.” Fin’s eyes don’t stray from you. “She is.”

You know it’s deliberate — the way he makes sure everyone is watching as he scoops you into his arms with a small lift off the ground. And then he begins dancing, and everyone else resumes.

As you follow his steps, you allow yourself the chance to look at him. Look at him, and wonder if he’ll hate you after all this is over. You…you don’t want him to hate you. That complicates things, but gods above, it’s true.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, and you may as well be the only two people in the room as he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear, “When you look at me like that, Y/N, it makes me think I’m not such a bad male as most would think.”

“You’re not.” You respond almost immediately, and you mean it. “I think it’d surprise you to know how highly you’re regarded. Everyone in this room who is looking upon you—”

You yelp as he suddenly dips you, his lips at your ear.

“Everyone in this room,” he says, “is looking at you. And rightfully so. You’re a masterpiece — my masterpiece.”

The compliment — the possessiveness — all seems extreme. But then, you think everything about Fin might be a bit extreme. He doesn’t do anything by halves. The blush that dusts your cheeks seems to please him.

“You like it, don’t you?” His voice is like gravel. “That not a single male in here can take their eyes off you. You are the envy of every female. Stripped of wings, but not of raw, natural beauty.”

He straightens you out before you can reply, and your head spins — with the sudden movement, and with the whiplash of the comment. It both pleases you and reminds you how exposed your back is — the trauma that everyone can see.

“Charming as ever.” You swallow, hope the smile on your face is convincing. “I don’t quite know what to say.”

“Words are not necessary — not tonight.” The song you’re dancing to fades to an end, and he steadies you gently on your feet. His gaze sweeps you again, and he remarks, “The stars will begin their journeys soon.”

In the strange headiness of the evening, you almost forgot that this is, essentially, two events wrapped up in one. Starfall, and Fin’s lavish ball. Perhaps seeing those stars will bring you some semblance of peace — make you feel less lost than you do right now, as they travel somewhere unbeknownst to you, and perhaps unbeknownst to themselves, also.

“Will you be joining us outside to watch them?” You ask.

A strange smile curves his lips. “Indeed I will. It’s a magnificent sight to behold.” He steps back, bowing to press a kiss to the backs of your fingers. And then he straightens up. Retreats.

“However,” he says, “I do believe the entertainment I’ve arranged for you may just outshine those stars this year.”

He saunters away, back to his dais. And as he lowers himself into his throne, he meets your gaze.

That same old thirst in them is unquenchable.

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The males are treating the stardust like it’s the snow that so often coats your respective camps.

The first specks of it showering down on you were surprising, beautiful. But in true Illyrian fashion, what started as a cordial gathering to observe the soaring, luminous beings, has been reduced to little more than a drunken bust up.

You don’t know which camp launched the first clump of glimmering dust at another, but that was all it took for chaos to break out. The fray jostles you away from your friends until you can no longer feel Azriel pressed to your side or hear Cassian’s constant chattering. Try as you might to locate them, it’s impossible to see past giant, burly males with alarming wingspans. It’s a sea of dark hair and tan skin.

You push and push your way through, looking for a small exit through the gathered bodies. Your gown is trampled on, and you’re shoved this way and that, taking a few handfuls of stardust to your face and neck and arms. The feel of it is a cold contrast against your hot skin.

Just as you spot an opening to squeeze through, a male is careening into you and taking you down with him. It stuns you so much that you forget to brace yourself for impact. You’re about to tear your skin open against the sharp ground—

But huge, warm hands from behind catch you beneath your arms and keep you upright. Set you on your feet.

You turn, smacking straight into a broad expanse of chest. And a little higher up — long hair and wicked eyes. A taunting grin. Too-sharp teeth.

Tathaln Baralas seems to command the area around him so much that the fighting moves away from you both. A fact that makes him so incredibly smug.

“You’re welcome.” He sounds as rough and rugged as the mountain rock.

You clear your throat and incline your head in reluctant thanks. You’re not too keen on the idea of lingering for a chat with him.

But before you can so much as turn, his hand is fastening around your wrist. It’s not a tight grip, and yet it’s a warning — that it could become tighter if you tried to move.

“I’d like to go and find my friends—”

“I’ve been wracking my brain trying to work out why the High Lord is so taken by you.” He angles his head, and his eyes travel down, a smirk toying with his lips. “Besides a magnificent pair of tits, of course.”

Gritting your teeth, you attempt to rip your arm away. “You do him a disservice by thinking him so shallow—”

“Does Rhysand know you’re fucking his father?”

“You’re mistaken, my lord, and I’ll thank you to let go of me.”

“My daughter’s warning was clearly of no use. Perhaps I’ll be able to drive the message in harder. Whatever you’re planning—”

“There you are.” Out of seemingly nowhere, Rhysand’s voice saves the day. “I’ve been looking for you.”

The most minuscule, tiny beat passes — but Tathaln Baralas is no damn fool. With such blatant reluctance, he lets go of your wrist and takes a step back.

Rhys presses himself against your side, slinging an arm around your shoulders. He stares at Tathaln as he says, “My father wants everybody rounded up. It’s time for the entertainment he has planned.”

It’s a cloaked order, and you can see how much the Lord of Fenlaros wants to grit his teeth against it. But again — no damn fool.

“I’ll help gather everyone up.” He relents, and then he turns and pushes through fighting males as though they’re not there.

Rhys turns to you, concerned eyes taking you in. “Are you alright?”

“I will be.” You respond vaguely, linking your arm with his. “When this is all over, I will be.”

Little does he know, it’s not only the ball that you’re referring to.

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Like petulant children, the bustling males don’t want to go back under the mountain for the remainder of the ball. They want to stay outside and frolic in the fallen stardust and maybe fight or fuck in it, too.

But somehow, Fin commands their return. And the silence with which they now all stare up at the dais has you wondering if there’s anybody he can’t get to obey him.

Roza, probably. The thought brings a smile to your face.

Gods, you’d love to be with Roza right now, Spending quiet, quality time together. Blocking out the world in its entirety. You’re glad, so heavily pregnant as she is, that she’s not here tonight — but still, you can’t help wishing she was—

A loud clap sounds through the room, jolting you from your thoughts. You force your eyes into focus once more, and though you’re buried a few rows back, Fin finds your gaze immediately. He smiles.

“I wanted to thank each and every one of you for coming here tonight.” He addresses the room. “I understand that Illyrians have a way of life that you like to keep loyal to, and that integrating with other camps is not normally a done thing. I appreciate you keeping your minds open and straying from your traditions to honour this event.”

The crowd stirs and murmurs, and every person packed within it must be wondering why Tathaln Baralas is the only camp lord up on that dais with the High Lord while the others all congregate on the floor, common as muck. They are not privy to the things that you are. You have a horrible feeling that that is all about to change.

“While there have been a few…hiccups, this evening, I have mostly been impressed by how well you were able to interact.” Fin goes on. “That is exactly what this little experiment was intended for. Because that’s what this ball was — an experiment. I address each and every Illyrian when I say this: change is coming.”

No.

Your stomach bottoms out. Hands turn clammy in an instant.

Surely…surely he hasn’t just ignored everything you’ve said. Surely this hasn’t all been for nothing.

“You may recognise the male behind me.” He’s not looking at you now. His eyes skim the room, but they don’t stray in your direction. “Tathaln Baralas — Lord of the Fenlaros camp.”

At that, a small burst of cheers breaks out from one section of the room. Fenlarions, you can only assume. You’re too panicked to care.

Tathaln takes a step forward, not quite in line with Fin, but almost. He seems to be fighting back a smirk. And as you feel another heavy set of eyes on you, you look to your left — to a few steps down, where Kaeda stands. She eyes you with what must be triumph in her eyes, and she doesn’t bother to hide her smirk.

This…this has all gone very, very wrong. You’ve fucked up — failed. Perhaps even doomed the lives of countless people. Fin may have poured sweet sentiments into your ear and boosted your confidence, but you so clearly weren’t enough. Weren’t enough to appeal yourself to him, and weren’t enough to save Illyria as you know it.

You’re not at all certain that you aren’t going to faint. Whatever is about to be said or done, you don’t want to be here for it. You want to gather up Azriel and Cassian and Rhys and get the fuck out of there, far away from this, from him. You look frantically around for them, but you’ve lost them again. Can’t even glimpse the backs of their heads.

“A short while ago, the Lord of Fenlaros came to me with a suggestion. A proposition.” Fin slides his hands into his pockets; a strangely arrogant gesture that tells you just how at ease he is. “But before I tell you all about that, I would like to speak to you about somebody else. Another one of your own who I have recently had the delight of spending my time with. Getting to know.”

It takes a delayed moment for you to realise he’s staring at you once more.

Staring firmly, unflinchingly at you.

He extends a hand in your direction, and everybody — every single fucking person around you — turns to get a look, also.

“Sweet Y/N,” He cocks his head. Smiles. “Would you join me up here, please?”

You falter on the spot, forgetting entirely how to move. Every pair of eyes…the attention…it’s all too much. Everyone is looking at you. Everyone can see you, your scars.

“Y/N.” Fin repeats. “This is for you, after all.”

Someone shoves you in the back, and snickers titter around you, the sounds swimming from one ear to the other. On shaking legs, you slip between bodies. Bodies with faces attached that won’t stop looking at you, staring at you, wondering why you, of all people, have caught the High Lord’s attention. A lowly Illyrian female without any wings.

Numb from head to toe, you climb up onto the dais. Fin takes your trembling hand. Pulls you to his side.

Only then do you find Azriel, Cassian and Rhys in the crowd. All staring up at you with alarmed, horrified expressions. They can sense something very terrible is about to go down, too.

“For all of you who haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her — this is Y/N.” Fin speaks loudly, clearly, his tone clipped. “She hails from the Windhaven camp. She is Illyrian in her own right. She has a brain wise beyond her twenty years, and a heart of solid gold. She cares for Illyrians — for all of you. Cares for your futures.” A very, very potent pause. His expression changes — darkens. He purses his lips. “But you all do not care for her, do you?”

Silence. Nobody knows where this is going. There’s a slight movement in the crowd, and out of the corner of your eye, you see your friends pushing closer to the front.

“You cannot claim to care about her — about your own females — when you are willing to do this.”

So quickly, Fin’s hands are gripping your arms, and he’s wrenching you around on the spot. Forcing your back to them. Forcing them to swallow down the sight of your ruined back.

But your scars poking through the sheer fabric is not enough for him, it would seem. Those hands of his, gentle at times and dangerous at others, skate over your shoulders. Stop at the top of your back, where you hate so profoundly to be touched.

And he rips the fabric open like he’s cleaving air.

The cold air hits your exposed back, and surprised murmurs ripple through the room. Each and every one of them will have seen clipped wings before — but not this. Not the brutal hacking you were subjected to.

On instinct, you’re fighting against Fin, trying to turn, trying to hide. He holds you steady.

“Her own father did this to her.” He announces. “As so many of you intend to do to your own daughters, no doubt. Look at her. Look at how she suffered, and believe me when I say, again, change is coming.”

“Father.” Rhysand’s voice reaches you from behind, severe, outraged. “Stop this.”

It surprises you that Fin immediately turns you back around. But you are under no illusion that he’s listened to his son’s plea. He simply isn’t finished.

There is not one part of you that isn’t shaking. You stare firmly at your feet, refusing to meet any of the gazes pinned on you. Some may be pitying. Most will be delighted.

“I understand that Y/N may not appreciate what I just did. And rightfully so.” With a theatrical wave of his hand, the rip at the back of your dress is mended. But the damage is already done. “She has a right to those feelings. A thing I believe you Illyrian males do not understand. That your females feel. That they can rightfully be hurt, and they can rightfully want to be avenged. Y/N?”

You know he’s addressing you, asking you to look at him. But you can’t move. You can’t…can’t stop shaking. Can’t stop feeling like you want to throw up.

“Y/N.” He repeats, softer this time. “Look at me please.”

You pause.

And then you do.

You turn, and you look at him with an expression that will never promise forgiveness.

To his credit, he studies your face. It’s like he’s searching for an answer as to whether his little stunt was irredeemable. His eyes swallow your expression, and a moment passes between you. One that doesn’t include everybody else in this room.

You imagine you look hateful. You imagine you are sneering, and clenching your jaw, and allowing him to see that you will not stand for such disrespect from anybody, including him.

And he…he looks upon you like he wants the rest of the room to disappear. Like he wants nothing more than to steal you into his arms and spirit you away, far away from this.

You take a small step back.

“I got you a gift.” He says, too quietly. Extends a hand again.

You feel yourself shaking your head. You cannot speak. But this does not deter him. He retracts his hand and murmurs to somebody — somebody you can’t see around the roaring in your head — “The box, please.”

As blurred movement stirs in front of you, you angle yourself towards the crowd — towards your friends. You search their terrified faces without seeing them, and you know that they are just as powerless as you are. Even Rhysand. That throwing themselves in the mix may just make the situation worse.

And you don’t even know what the situation is. All you know is that your heart is thudding and your ears are screaming. All you know is that you feel…betrayed…by Fin making a spectacle of you like this. That your body and mind are having such violent reactions because your vulnerabilities, insecurities, may just be the evening’s entertainment that you’re supposed to somehow enjoy—

“Y/N.”

Your eyes snap back to the High Lord, and a tear escapes the corner of it. You pretend it doesn’t exist, even if Fin’s gaze tracks it and softens.

“For you.” He holds a box out to you.

For a moment, you weigh up the likelihood that you could just dart off the stage and make a run for it. Find somewhere to hide and cry. But as your hands extend outwards without you telling them to, you know it’s no use. You’re seeing this through, however reluctantly.

Your trembles are violent as you take the box into your hands — and almost drop it. It’s heavier than you’re expecting. Fin smiles.

Every single person in that room watches you slide the lid off the box.

Every single person in that room watches you peer inside — and drop it. Stagger back.

“What the fuck is this?” You choke. “What have you done?!”

There are murmurs, people angling to get a look, as Fin casually strolls over to that box. As he reaches in.

As he lifts your father’s severed head by his hair and holds it up like it’s a fucking show and tell. And grins at it.

Steeled Illyrian warriors who have been bred for violence scatter back, curses and noises rolling off their tongues.

“Allow this to be a lesson to each and every one of you.” Fin speaks loudly, entirely unperturbed by the head dangling from his fingertips. “That while your camps are overseen by your camp lords, I am still your High Lord, and I am always watching, and listening, and waiting to act, if necessary. This male wronged somebody I care for. The only fitting punishment was this.”

Without a care, he drops your father’s head back into the box and kicks it away. You stumble back, back, toppling off the dais. Somebody catches you.

“I am your High Lord.” Fin repeats, seemingly unaware of the panic roiling in his audience. “I do not take kindly to being used or manipulated. I do not take kindly to somebody presuming to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do with my court. And Illyria is part of my court — no matter how much you try to distance yourselves. You are under my jurisdiction. What happens to you is my call to make.”

For a split second, you can only hear certain words; used, manipulated, presuming to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. You think he’s addressing solely you, but he isn’t.

People are moving around you. Arms wrap around you. It takes a moment for you to register that it’s Azriel. That he’s tucking you between himself and Cassian and Rhys. They’re shielding you.

Fin is now pacing the dais, hands behind his back. “The Lord of Fenlaros spent months concocting –and perfecting — a self-serving scheme that he then presented to me, as though he has the authority to do so.” He stops, turning to Tathaln — a very pale Tathaln. “And while I agree there would be some benefits to what you proposed, your methods have pissed me off. And I don’t like being pissed off.”

Tathaln squares his massive shoulders. Steps forward. “I—”

“What gives you the right to delegate your daughter and sons to rival camps to do your bidding, without bringing your case to me first? I should have been your first port of call. I should have decided how this plan of yours should play out. Yet you schemed behind my back and tried to build power and gain favour in case I disagreed to your plan. So you could then build a cause against me.”

“My Lord, I assure you, that is not—”

“Yes — your Lord.” He reiterates.

And then quick as a flash, he’s drawing a sword.

Quick as a flash, it slices through the air and hacks Tathaln Baralas’s head clean off his neck.

It drops to the dais with a wet-sounding thwack. The rest of his body crumples to the floor.

You can’t breathe, or think, or hear. Can only stare at Tathaln’s open, glazed eyes, peering off into nothing. There are gasps and curses and panic. Hands claw at you. You can’t move.

And then a high-pitched, wailing scream rents the air, like nothing else you’ve ever heard. So loud, it snaps you out of your shock.

You turn, despite the hands that hold you firm and still. Through tear-blurred eyes, you glimpse Kaeda on her knees. Her beautiful face is screwed with despair. She stares at her father’s head, and she wails.

“Change is, indeed, upon us.” Fin says calmly, as though a river of blood is not pooling at his feet. “But it will be dealt by my hands, and my hands only.” He sheathes his blade once more. “This ball is over. You can all leave.”

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he strolls off the dais, tracking blood with each step. He disappears through a door without looking back.

And then chaos is erupting. Kaeda is still screaming. People are scrambling to book it out of there. You turn back to Tathaln’s head. Turn to your father’s, still in that box. You think you might be sick—

“Y/N.” Hands grasp your face tightly. Azriel is staring into your eyes, pleading with you to stare back. “We need to get out of here, okay? We’re getting out of here.”

You open your mouth, and a strangled noise escapes you. “I…I can’t…move.”

“You can. You can. Come.” His arms band around you. And though he holds you strong, you can feel that he’s shaken, too. “We’re leaving before the High Lord comes back. I’m getting you out of here. Hold onto me.”

You have no choice other than to comply. But your grip is as weak as you are. You can’t stop yourself fucking shaking.

You don’t hear the words that Azriel speaks to Cassian and Rhys. All you can hear is Kaeda’s screaming. All you can do is stare over Azriel’s shoulder at your father’s lifeless face. That face didn’t once look upon you with love in twenty years. Now, it certainly never will.

You keep on looking until Azriel spirits you both out of there, and the coppery tang of blood follows you all the way back to Windhaven.

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“Please try to drink some of that.”

Azriel perches before you, his eyes fixed upon the steaming cup between your hands. You can’t remember how long ago he handed it to you, or how long ago you made it back to Roza’s cottage, or how long ago you watched Fin cleave Tathaln’s head from his body.

The fire is roaring, and more than one blanket is draped around you, but you can’t get any warmth to seep into your bones. You shiver from head to toe.

“It’ll warm you up.” Az reaches out, pressing a hand to your cheek. “I added a drop of whiskey to take the edge off.”

“I need more than a drop.” Cassian’s voice comes from behind the sofa, where he’s been pacing pretty much since he entered. “What the fuck was that? Your father is insane, Rhys.”

Rhys hasn’t breathed a word — that you’re aware of, anyway. Just sat in the armchair and stared into space.

But his eyes shutter now, and he murmurs, “I know.”

“Absolutely insane.” Cass repeats. The pacing continues, up and down and up and down. “I didn’t realise you’d gotten so close to him, Y/N.”

As if you need reminding.

Fin had made it clear that in some fucked up way, everything he did tonight was for you. He’d slaughtered two people for you. You’d wanted to stop Tathaln, but not like that…never like that.

A tear rolls down your cheek, and you hear Azriel utter a quiet warning to Cass. Cass stops his pacing.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He says, softer. “I just…didn’t realise there was so much going on while you were in Velaris.”

“I was trying to help.” You whisper. “I didn’t mean for…I didn’t mean—”

“None of what happened tonight was your fault.” Azriel moves to your side. He pulls you close against him, arms soothingly wrapping around you. “Don’t you dare start thinking that. The High Lord does what he wants.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. What if he’s coming for me next? I was scheming, too.”

Az growls quietly. “He can try. He won’t get close.”

“My father doesn’t want you dead.” Rhys rests his head back against the chair. He doesn’t open his eyes, and you’re wondering if he’s replaying the picture of bloodshed as much as you are. “If he did, he would have killed you there and then, alongside Kaeda’s father and…yours.”

Cassian spits on the ground. “And may your father never know a shred of peace.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, allowing yourself to slump fully against Az’s body, be supported by it. You’re not sure you can hold yourself up right now.

And it’s not that you disagree with Cass’s statement…you’re just not sure what to feel right now.

You hated your father. Despised him. But—

But that kill was supposed to be yours.

Fin had taken that from you in some fucked up display of…of affection, you supposed. Maybe even of ownership.

“He may not want me dead,” you whisper, “but I don’t think he’s finished with me. He’s surely not going to let me come back to Windhaven as if nothing happened. And what of Roza and the babe? Are they safe with him?”

Rhys gives a slow, meditative shake of his head. He’s exhausted. You’re all exhausted. The smell of blood clings to you. “I checked in with her. Despite what he did, they’re always safe with him. As for everything else…I don’t know what he intends.”

“Change is coming.” Finally, Cassian sits down. “That’s what he said. Over and over again.”

You don’t want change. Not the kind that Fin is probably thinking. You don’t want extravagance or luxury. You just want…this.

This little cottage. Your friends. Your love. Your simple, quiet life.

It feels like it hangs in the balance more than ever.

Eyes open, you’re staring at everything you may just lose. But the second you squeeze them shut, you see such thick, alarming red. Hear the thwack of Tathaln’s head falling. Hear the carnal scream that rips from Kaeda’s throat.

Your heartbeat picks up, and tears prick in your eyes — but Azriel’s arms tighten around you.

“Easy.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. “I’m right here. All three of us are.”

You know he can’t possibly be as calm as he’s making out. But he’s doing it for you — staying strong for you.

“You should try to sleep, my love.” He murmurs into your hair. “We all should.”

You focus on his warmth, his scent, but the tears keep coming. “I’m not sure I can.”

“Try.” He kisses you again. “For me.”

All you can manage is a relenting nod. And that’s all it takes for him to slide down and pull you with him. He holds you so tightly, as though he’s terrified of letting go. He bundles you against him, wraps a blanket around you both. It can’t be comfortable for him, his wings, but he lays there like it is.

A soft snoring from the armchair tells you that Rhys has already succumbed to exhaustion. You bunch your fingers in the front of Az’s shirt and force your eyes to close, even despite the horrors that await you behind them.

But after a while, you’re aware of the sound of Cassian traipsing to the kitchen. Reaching for the bottle of whiskey that sits mostly drained on the side.

And you realise that in Azriel’s arms, you’d started to drift off, too.

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You wake with a gasping start.

It’s pitch black in the room, besides the dying embers of the fire. Their muted orange glow illuminates the space enough for you to glimpse Rhys, still fast asleep in the chair. Cassian is sprawled out and dozing on the floor.

Any one of you could have stowed away upstairs in the privacy of a bedroom, but…you need each other right now. Each other’s comfort.

You don’t know what the time is; the middle of the night, judging by how dark it is. But there’s a lot of noise and foot traffic that’s carried past the house. You assume it must be Illyrians who have attempted to drown the night’s events in alcohol and are now skulking home.

You try to block it all out. Roll over. But as arms tighten around you and pull you flush against a warm body, you glance up to find Azriel awake, already staring at you.

You stare back.

That’s all you do for a while. Just…stare. Drink each other in. He is so beautiful. So brilliant. Your friend, lover and so much more.

“Hi.” He eventually whispers.

You scan his face. Murmur back, “Hi.”

“You should be sleeping.”

“So should you.”

A small shake of his head. Strands of hair fall from where they were earlier slicked back. The grandeur of the ball seems like eons ago, now.

“I can’t.” He says. “I’m worried about you.”

It’s rare…for him to lay vulnerable thoughts and feelings out like that. You study him again. And you want to reassure him, tell him you’re doing okay — but you’re not. Not right now. And don’t you owe him honesty in return?

“I’m scared.” You admit. Keeping your voice hushed doesn’t stop it from cracking.

Azriel leans down, dropping his forehead against yours. His hand rests at the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles.

After a moment, he asks, “What went on in Velaris?”

You don’t know what to say. It was so easy, in the City of Starlight, to pretend to be someone else. Someone that Fin would desire and eventually trust. So easy to follow a plan unflinchingly.

But back in the frozen grips of Windhaven, you do not feel like that person. You do not know her.

“You said you were scheming.” Az presses. “What went on?”

“I told you…I was trying to convince Fin to reject Tathaln’s idea—”

“Convince him how?”

You swallow. Because you hate the truth. Back in the ordinariness of your Illyrian environment, your behaviour seems so, so bad.

“Did he touch you,” Az breathes.

“No.” You immediately shake your head. “I made him want me. I made him want me so badly that he would trust me and listen to me. I never wanted him to kill for me. And I never wanted him. Every single second I spent there, I just wanted to come back to you—”

His lips fold over yours, and he breathes deep and slow. You waste no time in kissing him back. That kiss is truth, and it’s love.

“Only you, Az.” You whisper as you pull away. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

But he’s not done with you. His mouth is on yours again, and he promises into it, “I’ve only ever wanted you, too.”

Not merely wanted, but needed. And you need each other now. It doesn’t matter at all that you’re not alone in the room — that Cass and Rhys are sleeping mere footsteps away.

Your hands are on each other, grasping at each other, and your bodies come together. It’s unhurried and quiet. Azriel’s eyes don’t leave yours once, from the second he slides into you and you both gasp onto each other’s mouths.

Every slow thrust is one of love. Every one of them is a promise.

“Whatever happens,” he pants quietly, pleasure straining his voice, “whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

“Together.” You vow. A tear escapes the corner of your eye, and Azriel leans in to kiss it away.

He holds you as both your climax and his build together. He holds you as you bury into his shoulder to stop you from crying out. He holds you as you clench around his cock and he spills every last drop into you.

And he holds you as you catch your breaths and press your foreheads together, exhaustion beckoning you once more. He’s held you through so much, and he’ll continue to do so to whatever end.

Only when your eyelids are threatening to close does he brush his mouth against yours once more. And he says again, “We’ll face it together.”

There’s a stirring behind you. Cassian rolls over. Croaks out, “Can you quit fucking?”

And then he snores and he’s back to sleep, the fire warming his wings.

You and Az stare at each other and pause. And despite it all — everything that’s happened tonight — you both break into laughter. It vibrates through his chest and into you, the feeling pleasant, reassuring.

He kisses your forehead, a smile still ghosting his lips.

It stays there as he drifts to sleep.

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“What the fuck is that?”

Your groggy eyes wrench open and squint at the weak daylight that filters through the cottage. Both Rhys and Cass have bolted upright. Az, too, is jerked awake.

A thumping lands on the front door, urgent, panicked. Anxiety floods your gut.

“I’m coming, fucking hell.” Rhysand clambers to his feet. He’s dishevelled and uncoordinated as he clambers to the door and rips it open.

“Rhys,” Zakai pants from the other side. “What the fuck is your father playing at?”

“What—”

It’s then that the sound hits you all. The sound of authoritative voices calling out. Of people shouting — arguing — back.

Rhys follows Zakai out of the door. You, Azriel and Cassian share a glance before the three of you are also following.

And what you find outside is…chaos.

The sight of Illyrians fighting is nothing new, but males are being ripped from their houses. Children and wives watch, tears staining their cheeks. Paper and clothes and belongings litter the ground as if they’ve been stolen and discarded. The sky is shadowed by the temporary night of soaring Illyrians

Your wide eyes swivel to a roof a few cottages down — where a male stands upon its tiles, his voice bellowing out. He’s leather-clad and puffed up by his own importance — one of Devlon’s cronies, you think.

He seems unperturbed by the pushback on the ground — the gathering, angered males, as he addresses anyone and everyone around him.

“If I call your name, you’re coming with me! You pack the bare necessities — we leave for Steelshore in thirty minutes!” He announces. “Rahu Sepheron, Venia Char, Falkon Galos, Telarion Krin—”

“He’s lost his damn mind.” Rhys grits his teeth, shaking his head.

“He’s actually doing it.” Ice shoots through your veins, nothing to do with the brisk spring morning. “The High Lord is actually splitting everyone up.”

“Zakai Athalar—”

“Fuck this.” Rhys grabs Zakai’s hand, turning to you, Az, Cassian. “Everyone get back inside. None of us are doing anything or going anywhere until I’ve spoken to my father.”

You don’t hesitate to turn on your feet and pull Azriel with you. You want nothing more than to hole yourself up inside the cottage and pretend that none of this is happening. That anxiety and panic isn’t turning your stomach—

But the second you step foot inside, you’re halting in the doorway so suddenly that Cassian smacks into you from behind.

Fin sits at the table, cleaning his nails with a dagger.

He drinks in the sight of you greedily. Glances down at yours and Azriel’s joined hands. Smiles.

“Do you want to tell me what the fuck you’re playing at?” Rhys pushes past you, storming over. “What the hell is all this?”

“This?” Fin sits back. “This, Rhysand, is the reality of war.”

His son grits his teeth. Clenches his fists. “What.”

“War is upon us. Days, weeks, months away. People will have to fight and people will have to die. It is my duty as High Lord to take necessary action to ensure we come out victorious. If I have to sever some relationships for that outcome, then so be it.”

Cassian barrels forward, nothing but anger given flesh. “And what is this supposed necessary action? Tearing families apart?”

Even he, with his quick temper and loose tongue, would never normally address the High Lord in such a way. But Cassian cares. He’s passionate about what’s right.

And what Fin is doing is not right.

But Fin vaguely smiles and picks an invisible piece of dirt from his jacket. “If need be, Cassian, yes.” He says. “I’m delegating Illyrians where they will serve me best in this war. That includes your cosy little unit here.”

“If we are truly at war,” Azriel says quietly, dangerously, “now is not the time to play games.”

“Who’s playing games, shadowsinger?” Fin shrugs. “Not me.”

You don’t think it’s accidental, the way the High Lord’s eyes slide to you in that moment. You look away, refuse to hold his gaze. You could swear he chuckles quietly as he stands up and tucks his chair in.

“So here’s how it’s going to be.” He rests his forearms atop of the chair. “Rhysand — you will be commanding a legion in Camp Theriel.” He glances — barely — at Zakai. “I do believe your lover has already received a summons to leave for Camp Steelshore, so he should probably run along, lest he gets left behind.”

“Father—”

“Cassian.” He interrupts. “You will remain here, in Windhaven — as a common foot soldier in this war.”

“A foot soldier?” Cass spits. “That’s beneath my rank and you know it. You’re only doing this because you’re threatened by Az, Rhys and I being together. How powerful we are. Everyone knows that.”

Fin simply tsks. “Watch yourself, foot soldier. You don’t want to slip further down the ranks, now, do you—”

“Fin.” Finally, you find your voice. You step forward, despite Azriel trying to yank you back. You stare pleadingly at the High Lord.

He turns to you. His eyes sweep your face. His expression seems to go somewhat…quiet.

You had begun to respect this male in some roundabout way. You don’t think you’d ever have fully trusted him, but…there was an understanding, for a time. An allegiance of sorts.

You’d seen a side to him that so few did. And though it’s nowhere to be seen now…you have to believe that it’s still under there somewhere. You have to.

“Please don’t do this.” You whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “Please. This is our home. Our family.”

At the first sight of a tear rolling down your face, Fin swallows — hard. He clenches his fists at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach out and wipe it away.

It seems like so, so long that he stares at you. So long that he seems to be fighting something internally.

So long that a small glimmer of hope ignites in you that perhaps he cares enough to listen.

But then his eyes are shuttering, and he’s looking away. He says, stiffly, “We all have to make sacrifices in war.”

“Fin—”

“Rhysand will go to Camp Theriel. Cassian will stay here.” His eyes open again. He looks from you, to Azriel, back to you. “You and the shadowsinger are coming to Velaris with me.”

“What?!”

“You’d better say your goodbyes.” He squares his shoulders, not looking at you at all, now. “It’ll be a very, very long time before you all see each other again. If you see each other again.”

You open your mouth — to say what, you don’t know.

But Fin disappears before your eyes, leaving you — your family — alone.

What sounds far, far away is Cassian’s outraged ranting. Rhysand cursing his father. Zakai trying to talk to him, calm him down.

You and Azriel are the only two who don’t say a thing. Just stand there in silence.

Because you know you can curse all you like. You can shout and throw things and damn Fin to a miserable existence. It may bring you some temporary reprieve.

But it will not change a thing.

Fin is your High Lord. His mind is made up. This is just the next round in his game.

Your family is being cleaved apart. You stand in that cottage where you all slept in each other’s company — not realising it might be the last time, ever.

Your head roars and your tears keep on coming. But you can do nothing but stare at Azriel. He stares at you, too.

You and the shadowsinger are coming to Velaris with me.

It makes you sick to your stomach. Probably makes Azriel sick to his stomach, also.

But your locked, silent, crestfallen gazes communicate one sacred promise to each other.

Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.

Authors note: Oooooof how are we all feeling? Good? Bad? Sad? Mad? Tempted to commit arson?

I just wanted to say thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. What started out as a fun little smut piece turned into a whole story I didn’t even know I had in me, but I’ve enjoyed every bit of it — especially hearing from all of you. Your likes, reblogs, comments and asks have meant the world to me through this. Thank you so much for the wonderful responses 🫶🏻

For anyone who didn’t see my answer to an ask regarding this last part — I understand it might not be the ending everyone wanted or expected, but I felt there was still so much potential in the story that I wanted to leave it open to — perhaps — write a sequel at some point. I have so many ideas, and I’m totally willing to talk about it and answer any questions about it you have any!

Thank you, again, for all the support, darlings. And I truly hope you enjoyed Practice On Me. 💕

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-a-girlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

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sleepyangelkami · 9 months

Text

TRUTH OR DARE e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 8.7K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - it started out innocently enough. a sinless sleepover shared between two best friends, one much more experienced than the other. but nothing would have prepared the innocent girl for the events led from a simple game of truth or dare, started by ellie williams who knew exactly what she was doing.

☆ WARNINGS - smut, oral + fingering (r. receiving), strap sucking (e. recieving), strap fucking, use of 'my dick' and 'my cock' when referring to ellie's strap, tinsey bit of humping, dom!ellie, sub!reader, innocence kink, size kink, spanking, slight age gap (17 - 19), daddy kink (oops), ellie's lowk the town whore, use of pet names, kinda overstimulation, dumbification, inexperienced reader, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

ellie williams was known in jackson, and not only by the way everyone may think. sure, the girl certainly had been known for the amount of work she put into the town by all of it's residents and of course she was known as the cheery girl, joel millers daughter, the same girl that wouldn't even hesitate to help someone unload bags if she spotted them struggling. ellie williams was known as one of the 'glues' of the town, keeping it put together. but how she was known by the teenage girls of jackson was a very different story.

ellie was fourteen when she came to jackson, she had matured much since then and everyone could see that, especially the girls.

It was no secret that ellie williams got around, nor was it a secret that she had slept with more than half of the girls in jackson, some even straight. but what she wasn't known for, was relationships. she was a hit and dip kind of girl, the one that never stayed the night, never attached herself to anyone, she wasn't the kind of girl to be a girlfriend, and believe me when i say... she rejected too many girls to so much as begin to count.

then there was always you.

you were another one of the glues of jackson, respectful and polite, hardworking but in many different ways than ellie was. you were sweet and kind yet awfully shy, hiding into yourself for the most part. sure, you got on well with the elderlies but when it came to actually having a conversation with a teenager, you ran before you could see the light of day. even the thought of it seemed merely impossible. but that wasn't to say that you couldn't handle everyone. you often went on patrols with dina and jesse, you always helped maria and her husband, along with joel miller too. and you never hesitated to help out with the younger kids, feeling much sympathy for them seeing as they had to grow up in the apocalypse, alike you, and you knew it wasn't too peachy yourself.

then there was ellie. oh, how you loved the girl.

when she first got to jackson, you were beyond admiration, fawning over her every move. when you met her it wasn't romantic, no definitely not, but she was older than you were, so fearless of anything in her path, so good at keeping conversation with everyone she met. she was so... cool.

she had girls practically crawling all over her, she was loved, adored, you weren't jealous of the attention in the slightest. you simply admired it, the way she didn't have to move and it seemed that every girl was fawning over her. she had been with at least half of the teenagers in jackson, and it was no help that most of the girls were... well gay.

you had never really thought about it for you never thought about being in a relationship but when ellie constantly spoke about being lesbian, about all the girls she had been with and i mean.. just look at her! you knew then and there that you too had the very same liking towards girls, after all, you had never really seen yourself getting with a boy anyway, not that you had thought about it.

when ellie noticed your admiration, she instantly took you under her wing, she became the best friend you had always longed for, she and you did everything together, spending all your time with one another down to the very last minute when you finally went to sleep. more often than not, you were sleeping at your house with her. your parents always away on guard duty or even on night patrol and you obviously had the bigger house of you two, so naturally, that was where the sleepovers occured.

just like now as you dressed in your shortest shorts in your wardrobe, pretty and pink, silky and slightly flowly though rather tight against your skin as well as your small tank top, pretty and white, little flowers dotted across the fabric. there was nothing worse than those warm nights in jackson, when everyone was asleep and you were left to deal with the heat alone, no one to complain to.

luckily, you were always attached to ellie's hip.

"I'm so warm!" she groaned in front of the fan, her chin on the palm of her hand in which had been propped up on your bed by her elbow, eyes shutting closed, she couldn't stick the heat any more than you could.

"same." you mumbled, lying on your back with one arm over your eyes, the free hand fanning your face, seeing as the girl had practically hogged the fan, snatching it right from you. the short and skimpy clothes did absolutely nothing to sooth the terrible heat sticking to your skin. you were just thankful that the windows were wide open and the fan was spreading cold air across your room for there was nothing worse than legs sticking together with the heat, or sweating in your bed.

ellie sighed, moving from the fan as she propped herself up next to you, she on her stomach, you on your back, however you couldn't so much as notice her with your arm strewn across your eyes. she was in a black wife beater tank top (one of which, when she had told you the name of, you stared at her with your mouth agape stating that it couldn't be true because who on earth would name a t-shirt that) along with grey sweatpants that looked too hot for this weather. you always mocked her for this, stating that she dressed like a twelve year old boy. "let's play a game to distract ourselves from the heat." she suggested and yet... you knew that playful tone from anywhere.

lifting your elbow, you crained your head up just enough to give her a questioning look. "what kind of game?" voice light and unbothered as you slowly put your arm down, looking up at her while she, face still in her arm, looked down at you.

she grinned―no, she smirked down at your pretty face, hand moving away so she could sit up. "okay." already beginning the game. "truth or dare." your groan and you pushing an arm back around your eyes had her pushing your arm back and rolling her eyes at you. "cut the dramatics." she warned in this tone that had your stomach feeling rather strange, not that you'd ever tell her that. "c'mon, don't you trust me?"

that smirk that played on her lips would be the absolute death of you. you sat up, hair falling down over your chest to hide the shape of your nipples through your shirt... you weren't wearing a bra. you didn't think anything of it, it was just ellie, your best friend, she wouldn't care. "truth." but oh, how it drove her crazy.

"boring." she rolled her eyes, settling on the bed as she criss-crossed her legs, elbows falling on each knee. a smile suddenly spread across her face as she picked the perfect question from her mind. "what's your biggest turn on?" oh, she was jumping straight to the point? you couldn't deny the way your eyes blew wide and instantly, heat spread across your cheeks at her question.

instantly, you turned your face away, hands pushing up in a 'no' motion. "mm-mm, no, can't do this with you ellie-" though it wasn't the first time you spoke about sex. of course, ellie would always tell you every detail of her latest conquests and while you should have been disgusted, you were more intrigued, after all, ellie was your personal sex ed guide. ellie couldn't deny it either, that sick obsession with the way your eyes squinted at her, confused, innocent, oh how she would melt on the spot.

yes you can, her hands grasping at your own, stopping them from moving away. "yes you can!" the hands on your own caused you to go impossibly more red, eyes almost begging, but for what? you were still unsure.

you looked at her, eyes falling as you stared straight forward at her. "i don't even know what my biggest turn on is." but that only had the girl scoffing at you.

it was as if she could read you better than you could yourself. "yes you do!" she almost groaned out, throwing her head back, as if you were annoying her, as if you ever could.

"i don't- i guess, uhm..." you bit down on your bottom lip, thinking back to everything she had ever told you about sex, what was your biggest turn on? it was funny, you don't think you have ever thought about it until that very moment when your hands began to brush against your own skin of your arms. "probably... praise?" you mumbled, barely audible. yes, that seemed like you knew what you were talking about for ellie and jesse had explained it in great detail in front of you before, not directly to you, but you heard anyway, while you and dina were busy looking at a photo album. all you knew was that when those certain words were uttered from ellie's lips, you couldn't help but push your thighs together.

ellie smiled, a smile that had her tongue pushing between her teeth. "yeah?" almost teasing you with that look in her eye, but you knew she wasn't judging either, there was a fine line between teasing and judging, ellie would never cross past the mockery.

"yes, now shut up!" you giggled excitedly, tossing the pillow into her face. however, you remembered to take note of the fact that your parents were home tonight and you didn't wish to make too much noise, otherwise they may come in and the last thing you needed was them overhearing this conversation.

ellie caught the pillow, chuckling as she set it aside, grinning at the funny look on your face. what you thought was awkward, what she thought was downright adorable. "your turn." she nodded at you.

you sat up straighter, moving your hands to stretch out your arms. "truth or dare, els?" the position you were in was anything but comfortable, straining your back.

"fuck it." she spoke, pushing her back up against your many pillows on the bed, you were envious of her. "i'll go with truth too."

now it was your turn to roll your eyes, seeing as she had called you boring for doing the exact thing she was doing now. "hmm, lemme see." you placed a finger on your chin, jokingly, though you were, in fact, in deep thought. you wondered what you'd ask her, there were many questions you wished to ask her before, all about the same topic she just loved to bring up, sex, but you weren't as outgoing nor as confident as she was so when you asked, you were sure it sounded too awkward, not as 'seductive' as she. "what does shower sex feel like?" you suddenly questioned, like an inquisitive student to her teacher.

ellie laughed in your face. "what?"

"what?" you threw your hands up in defence, though you couldn't deny the heat that spread across your cheeks and the embarrassment through your body. "i wanna know and you're like... the sex god?" and now you were really embarrassed.

ellie barked out laughter, throwing her head back again as her hand came down on her stomach, after all, you had called her a sex god, despite the way you meant it. "fuck, i can't!" turning over on her stomach, burying her face into your many plush pillows.

your cheeks were stained crimson. "that's not what i meant!" you protested, simply meaning that she knew so much, not that she was that good. you kicked her leg and just as you were about to toss a pillow at her, you realised you had no more. "just answer the question and save me my pride." hiding your face away in your hands.

"your pride is swallowed, angel." sitting up straight with a simple grin on her face, however, you didn't remove your hands from your own. "it feels good." you peeked through your fingers, she saw that and grinned. she slowly lowered her hand, your eyes watched as her her fingers came down to trace the skin of your leg, you ignored the goosebumps it left, she didn't. "usually starts off with... little massages, gets you all relaxed, you know?" she was practically whispering, suddenly, her body seemed so much closer. "and when you're all relaxed like that, soaking in hot water, the smell of soaps... everything's just so much better." her eyes moved up to your own, your hands had fallen by your side, you gulped gently, a smirk returned on her lips. "truth or dare, angel?"

your body almost let out a whimper, instead, your lips pressed into a thin line. there was a feeling in your throat, though, one that screamed at you to make a noise. but you knew you couldn't, of course you couldn't. "dare." you mumbled, exciting and yet surprising yourself.

you must have surprised ellie too, judging by her face, you definitely did. "oh... someone's confident." shock washing from her face almost instantly, she was well prepared, you weren't. "hmm... okay, I dare you to call me the nickname of my choosing for the rest of the game." okay, you thought, lips turning upwards as you nodded, that wouldn't be hard at all. "and if you mess up... i get to spank you." shrugging as she moved her body backwards, back against the pillows once again.

your eyes blew wide and your mouth fell agape, and yet still, ellie seemed completely unphased. "that's completely absurd el-" she watched you, her mouth opening, waiting for you to mess up. you glared at her. "what's the damn nickname." you grumbled, eyes cast down, though you couldn't deny the sudden excitement rumbling in your stomach, yet also nervousness, itching at the back of your throat once more.

"drop the attitude, will you, bun?" leaning forward again. she knew she could turn the situation around for the worst and she would, why wouldn't she? it was ellie williams for god sake. "the nicknames' daddy." and that was your final straw, eyes almost popping out of your skull. "something wrong? can't handle a simple dare?"

"no." you deadpanned, eyes squinting at her. "i can handle it just fine... daddy." the word seemed foreign, weird, you internally cringed and while ellie smirked, she didn't say another word, she'd wait to embarrass you about it later. "your turn, truth or dare?"

with sudden confidence, one of which it seemed she always had, she answered the question rather swiftly. "dare." without so much as hesitating.

"i dare you to...." looking around the room, you had to get her back but in what way? your eyes suddenly fell on your wardrobe and a grin spread across your face. "show me your polaroids." sure, it was your room but in a box at the bottom of your wardrobe, behind all your clothes and hidden away was all ellie's 'things'. at first, when the girl had practically begged you to keep all of her 'sex things' in your wardrobe, you instantly shut her down, shaking your head and stating that you wouldn't have her strap or other slutty belongings hidden away in your room. however, when she told you the story of joel threatening to tear her room apart to find what he was looking for, you couldn't exactly say no. your parents never entered your room without consent, let alone searched it. it was a place ellie knew her stuff would be safe, and you were her best and friend and oh how you admired her, how could you say no?

ellie stared at you momentarily. "fine." she moved her hands underneath her and made her way over to the wardrobe, opening it and fishing her hands in behind your clothing. you sat on the bed, watching as she opened the box, grasping the polaroid pictures and pushing the box back behind your clothes again, covering it altogether. "now." tossing them onto the bed, right next to you. "do with them, what you please."

you ignored her poor use of grammar and picked up the one closest to your leg while grimacing. you didn't want to look at photos of ellie and her sex buddies but you wanted her to care, to suddenly get nervous and anxious, to twitch and blush the way you do. but she never did, an amused look on her face as she watched yours. you flipped over the polaroid, eyes turning wide. there sat a picture between your finger tips, something strapped into ellie and... inside someone else. you couldn't see the strap really for it was plunged too deep inside some blonde girl, one of which ellie was tugging the hair of. "ew." the look on your face doing nothing to hide the pure distaste you had or the photograph. "who even is that?"

you're question caused the girl to turn around, settling herself right next to you. your knees that were propped up slowly slipped and she took a hold of the polaroid only she didn't take it from your hands, instead she placed hers on top of yours to turn it her way. "no idea." she shrugged and you placed the picture back on the bed.

"what do you mean?" you all but stretched out your sentence. "you just look at someone and say 'you're hot, I wanna have sex with you' and that's... it?" it baffled you, how you could just have sex with a nobody, someone you had no connection to at all, a face you couldn't even remember.

ellie shrugged her shoulders once more. "pretty much." she shrugged her shoulders. you gave the polaroids a look of slight disgust as she picked them up off the bed, rolling her eyes. huffing, she found her way back to the box, placing them back inside before seating herself back onto the bed. "truth of dare."

"truth." deciding that the last dare was much too far, you needed to get it back to the normal tension, not this one for it was much too hot, you couldn't handle it. then again, ellie was anything but casual, she was sure to make this hard for you.

she looked as though she had already planned this out, which she had, a thousand times in her head. "who's the first person you fantasised about?" eyes going wide for a moment as she grinned at you. yes, she surely was not going to make it easy.

you. the simple answer, to the simple question however none of this was truly simple, so you answered. "katy perry, obviously." rolling your eyes as if she had known this already, which she had, she just didn't know that it was a lie.

"oh, come on." she placed her hands on her knees to stabilize herself. "you saw her showing a little too much skin in one magazine and your frigid ass went ballistic." it was true, you had seen her in a magazine one day on patrol and you simply stared, a little starstruck.

"shut up, that's so not true." but oh how it was. you were a prude, at least that was what the teenage boys called you. you didn't engage in any 'activities' nor did you hear much about them unless it were from ellie, but seeing something? well it was graphic enough for your eyes to blow as wide as saucers. "truth or dare?"

"truth." ellie answered almost instantly, without missing a beat.

"stop copying me." you rolled your eyes at her. "uhhh..." rocking forward and backwards with your hands on your knees. "do you think anyone could ever think of... me that way?" tilting your head, sudden insecurities slapping you right in the face. you didn't wish to sound whiny, or insecure but it was ellie williams, she was your best friend and she knew you better than anyone and she had probably the most experience in the entire town, she'd know if you were capable.

"y/n l/n!" she almost shouted, a wide smile stretched across her face, she fawned shock. "are you asking me if i think you're hot."

"my god." you groaned, shoving your face right into a pillow because ellie williams truly never knew when to be serious, and you hated the way every time she laughed, your face felt hot and flush. the sound of a knock on the door caused you both to stop, heads instantly whipping towards the door. "come in!" you yelled out to your parents, you knew it was them for there was no one else home.

"hi, sweetheart." in came your mother, a smile on her wrinkled face, you made an effort to smile back. "hi, ellie." she was met with a wave before she turned back to her daughter. "me and your father are going out for night patrol now, alright? you and ellie might fancy watching a movie down in the living room now that you have the dvd player all to yourselves."

"okay, thank you, mom." you rose from your bed, giving her a short hug. you were touchy like that, especially with your parents, always making sure to give them hugs whenever you saw them, it was just the way you were. "love you, you and dad be safe, okay?"

"always are." she grinned, placing a chaste kiss on your head. "see you later." and just like that, the night turned around, maybe for the better, maybe for the worst, you weren't too sure. all you knew was that at one minute you were sitting in your bedroom, clenching your legs together and ignoring your scratchy throat with your parents downstairs and the next they were gone further beyond the walls while you and ellie sat on the couch, watching some shitty western movie she had borrowed from she and joel's house before, she never did give it back.

for the entire movie, you sat at one end of the couch, curled up with your head laying on the arm rest, knees almost against your chest while ellie sat at the other, legs spread wide and her elbow resting against the back of the couch, fingers toying with the bottom of her mullet like hair.

the rest of the night passed by smoothly. after the movie, you and ellie had agreed to go to bed seeing as you were both awfully tired. however, upon slipping into bed, the lights off and curtain drawn, you realised you weren't actually tired, no, for it was only mere fake tiredness from staring at all of those pixels on the screen.

you stared into the black abyss, ignoring the awfully silent room. you turned, uncomfortable so that now you weren't facing the wall but ellie's back. but you knew from the lack of snores filling the room that ellie too was not asleep for she usually snored rather loud. she sensed you turning around and undoubtedly did the same, eyes open. she gave you a grin. "hi." she whispered into the dark.

you couldn't help but give a toothy smile back. "hi." whispering back, though you weren't sure why you were whispering for it was just you two in the entire house. perhaps it was the dark making you feel as though you should be asleep, so you gently turned around, flicking on the small lampshade next to your bed before plopping back to your original space, huffing out a breath. your eyes fell on ellie's in which were tracing your entire body over. "what?" you giggled.

but she looked up at you with an almost baffled look. the light illuminated her skin and it seemed to make her impossibly more pretty despite the fact you could barely see her face through the darkness. her hand came to your face, two fingers pushing your hair behind your ear. "people think of you like that." she whispered, answering your truth question from much earlier. "i know they do." she knew she did. "truth your dare, baby?"

you ignored the way your stomach twisted in nerves and your cheeks felt as though they were on fire. "We're playing that game again?" almost groaning as if you didn't want this, as if your heart wasn't in your mouth, as if there wasn't something pooling in your underwear.

ellie's mouth turned upwards into a little smirk. "we never stopped." she spoke in an agonisingly teasing tone as she moved her face closer to your own. if she moved another inch or two, your noses would be touching. "so, truth or dare?"

you found your own hands fumbling with one another. "truth." answering, attempting to start it off easily, however, ellie wouldn't make it easy for you, you knew that.

her fingers moved to your arm, stroking up and down your exposed skin due to your white spaghetti strap top. "do you touch yourself a lot?" her voice a low mumble, you wondered how she could say it so casually, as if she wasn't effected by the spoken words, and that alone seemed as though it were impossible.

your cheeks flamed a hot crimson colour. you would have protested, stating that it were too inappropriate to speak of, but you didn't, why? you didn't know. but you didn't protest, you couldn't because you knew deep down that you had dreamed of this moment since you met her. "sometimes..." you muttered back, voice wavering. "not a lot." but on the nights you did, it was a feeling unlike you ever could have imagined.

"yeah?" you nodded your head dumbly. "how?"

and as badly as you wished to answer, as badly as you wanted her to know everything, you couldn't for your embarrassment prohibited you from it. "it's not your turn." you mumbled, embarrassment thick in your veins as the girls lips curled upwards once more. "truth or dare?"

you wanted her to pick dare, you wanted to choose something completely wild but you knew she wouldn't because for every question in this game, she's chosen the very same as you did. "truth." she responded swiftly.

"have... you ever thought of me like that?" had she ever fantasized about you, is what you wanted to know, what you needed to know. you needed to know if she felt the same, if she too spent her nights with dirty thoughts occupying her mind. dirty thoughts about you, like the ones you had about her.

"all the time." She mumbled and your heart dropped to your ass. "sometimes when i'm... with someone-" her hand still stroking up your arm. "i have to imagine it's you to finish- no, not sometimes." she corrected. "every single fucking time." and you didn't know how to breathe. "truth or dare?"

thankfully, ellie had moved it right on, so you could be free of those smothering thoughts, the ones that had your thighs clenching together right now. "dare." because if you choose truth, she'd simply ask you the very same thing she did beforehand. 'how' did you touch yourself, that was something you didn't know if you were ready to say or not.

ellie's lips curved upwards into a smug smirk. you had walked right into her trap. "show me how you touch yourself." and this was worse. way way worse.

"wha-" suddenly all your breath had left your lungs. "i can't just-"

but ellie was quick to cut you off. "a dare is a dare, angel." shrugging her shoulders as she sat up, you followed in suit. "unless you're too scared." she shrugged her shoulders and if there was one thing you hated more than this situation altogether it was backing down to ellie, her thinking that you were 'scared' even when you were.

you huffed out, staring at her with her big dopey smile spread across her face. "fine." you spoke, voice wobbling once more. "but you can't make fun of me."

"me?" ellie fawned shock. "I'd never." and you rolled your eyes at that one. "whenever you're ready, baby." you'd never be ready but there was a certain haze over the room, a certain gloss over your eyes that told you to do it, maybe it was your cunt talking, you didn't much care, simply huffing out a breath as you prepared yourself. nothing would prepare you for this moment, the moment you had fantasized about since you were twelve. you moved to grab a pillow, a pink, satin one to be exact. ellie couldn't stop her smirk, you have got to be kidding me, she thought, unable to contain her smug features. you truly had no idea what you were doing. you couldn't look at her, not when you lowered yourself down onto the pillow, still clad in your pink shorts that pushed out by your ass. "it's okay, honey, take your time." her soothing voice actually helped and you finally lowered yourself down onto the pillow which you had done a thousand times before... but now that there was someone watching, you couldn't contain your nervousness.

you let out a shaky breath as your hands fell down, grasping at the pillow to hold it in place. ellie watched your small form get comfortable before rutting your hips forward. at first, you were met with mere ruts, small pathetic breaths until finally, the sensation began to built up in your tummy. maybe it was because of the pillow or maybe it was because she was watching. you don't know what possessed you but it was almost as if you had forgotten she was in the room with you. you rolled your hips against the pillow again and again, this time with more force and much faster, no stops in between. a mewl fell from your lips as you pushed your ass out again, the friction from the pillow against your clit was... good but surely not enough.

luckily for you, ellie could see right through you. she knew you better than anyone and she knew just how to make you feel good. "poor baby." she cooed causing you to rut your hips again, pathetic whimper falling from your lips. "you've never came with this, have you?" you eventually slowed to a stop, the feeling of her hand on your thigh enough to cause the heat in your panties to pool further. you shook your head, holding back an embarrassed whimper. she moved up, lips against your ear. "need daddy to help you feel good?" you had forgotten all about the nickname from before but hearing it roll of her tongue, uttered from her lips, you found yourself audibly whining as you nodded your head swiftly. she placed a chaste kiss against your neck. "words, bun."

"need you to help me." your voice turned into a whine, one you had never heard from your own lips, in fact, you had never heard anybody so needy, you were almost embarrassed. almost. the haze over your eyes stopped you from feeling like that. "please." ellie had enough.

she was quick to flip you over, pushing the pillow from underneath you and out onto your bedroom floor. she wasn't hovering over you for a second before she had dipped her head down, roughly kissing your lips. this was the first kiss you had ever recieved and you found yourself never wanting something more. her hands were on your waist, yours around her neck as you pushed your head up to kiss against her lips just as roughly, needy, sloppily. she herself couldn't get enough. making out with you had been what she dreamed of since she had become friends with you and now she was here, she wasn't going to let you go easily.

ellie didn't know how to tell you something, so instead, she let you feel it. she grinded her core against yours allowing you to feel the strap already strapped to her beneath her sweatpants. you gasped at her, mouth detatching from her own. "when did you-" shocked as you felt it grind against your core, letting out a whimper that cut you off instantly.

she breathed heavily against your lips, a grin on her face. "when you went to the bathroom." she stated as if it were some little secret she had been dying to share with you. you couldn't contain your noises as she grinded against you again, this time slower, raking up your shorts as she did. "fuck, need to take these off you." she spoke, pulling at your pink shorts. "can i take them off you, angel?"

"please." you whined, watching as she nodded her head, moving her hands so she could grasp at the waistband, pulling it clean off you and simply leaving you with your white cotton panties on, a very much so obvious wet patch on them.

"fuck." she grunted, tossing the shorts somewhere on the ground, presumedly with the pillow. "all worked up already?" she moved her hand, finger gently tracing over the circle on your panties, your little wet patch that drove her absolutely insane, almost over the edge.

you weren't stupid, you knew what happened next and you simply couldn't wait. "please." you begged, whimpering into thin air as you bucked your hips forward. "please just t-touch me." and ellie waited, you knew what she was waiting for so you didn't keep her waiting long, after all, you didn't much like to wait either. "please, daddy." words almost a whispered whine.

"good girl." she praised, grasping at your panties so she could pull them down your legs. you shifted, squirming as your core met the cold air of the bedroom. ellie shoved the panties into her sweatpants pocket, you didn't bother say a word, too busy waiting in anticipation for what she would do next. ellie's eyes met your core, a small grunt leaving her mouth as she dipped her fingers down. her head turned up, watching your face contort at the feeling of her fingers pressing against your lips, one finger sliding through to collect the slick. she turned her head back down, pulling her fingers away and spreading them, looking at your slick that coated it, she found herself laughing. "fuck, you're so wet, aren't you?" you didn't wish to respond, hands falling on your face to cover your blushed cheeks. "nuh-uh, none of that." pushing her clean hand up to pull your own away, you stared at her with crimson cheeks. "use your words." she whispered against your ear, placing a kiss right beneath the lobe. "use your words or i'll stop."

you whined with your lips shut at that. "a-all for you." you mumbled out embarrassingly but you never took your eyes off of her.

she hummed, a smirk on her lips. "I'm sure." she pushed her fingers back down again, pointer finger rubbing tight circles around your clit, she watched as you moaned out, flushed cheek against her shoulder as she practically hovered over your side. she did it again and again, watching your face change and listening to your pathetic little mewls falling from your lips. the sight was straight up pornographic. so, of course, the girl just had to push you even further. she moved her middle finger, lining it up with your core and plunged a finger in.

"oh my god!" you held onto her biscep, listening to her laugh as she pumped the finger in and out of you, you had never done anything like this before. you should have been scared, but you were too busy thinking about the feeling building up in your stomach, the one that was familiar yet oh so foreign. you had felt good before but this... this was very different.

"yeah? you like that, hm?" almost teasing tone as she pushed another finger in causing you to squeal loudly. the feeling of her two slender yet very long fingers pumping in and out of you caused many different sounds to fall from your lips, ellie wondered how many she'd be able to get out of you. she picked up her pace, sliding them in and out with ease as they were coated in your thick juices. she thanked god you were so wet, it made it so much easier to play with your pussy. though, she did hope god was nowhere near that bedroom in that given moment. "feels good, angel?"

you whined, nodding your head. "s-so good." you clutched at her shirt, hoping for something to bring you back down to earth, but it wouldn't work. on the contrary, it only fuelled her to go faster. "i think, i'm gonna-"

you had never orgasmed before, but this was the best you had ever felt. surely, this was how it felt to being close. and ellie could tell you were too for your core clenched around her fingers, practically swallowing them whole. "i know, angel, it's okay." she moved her thumb up, rubbing circles against your clit as she continued to move her fingers in and out of your tight hole, she wondered how on earth her strap was supposed to fit inside there. "let go f'me, bunny." and you did. there were a string of moans leaving your mouth, including... her name. she smirked up at you, knowing you hadn't the slightest clue of the mistake you made by moaning out her name. however, she was sure to have fun with it nonetheless.

she waited until you came down from your high, until your moans had just turned to harsh breaths, quick pants as you laid on your back, blinking heavily. never in your life had you ever felt so good, your core almost felt strange without her fingers inside of it. you had gotten a taste, you needed so so much more, you needed everything.

you felt ellie bend her head down, pressing chaste kisses against your neck as you breathed out another pant, eyes chasing hers. she returned her face towards yours, a knowing smirk plastered on it, your brows furrowed. "think you called me by the wrong name, honey." your jaw went slack at the realisation. "games not over yet." at the same time as fear entered your body, excitement ran through it.

ellie was quick to move, pushing you instantly so that you were draped across her lap, she manhandled you, as if you were a toy, so easy to pick up and toss around. and in her eyes, you truly were. after all, she had picked you up and thrown you across her lap as if you were, in fact, a doll. "wait." you whined out, suddenly scared. you knew that you had agreed to the dare but the thought of her hand coming in contact with your ass, the thought of her hurting you, it was rather scary. " 'm sorry daddy." you cried out pathetically, as if it would save you now.

"i know you are, bunny." her hand came down on your bare ass gently, rubbing along your skin as if you were a china doll made of glass, she grinned as you practically held onto her leg. you almost thought that she was going to let you off, but you knew better. "that's why daddys gonna be really nice to you tonight. i'll only give you five, 'kay?" you nodded your head despite your wobbling lip, this earned a small swat to your bottom. "words, angel."

"okay, daddy." mumbling out adorably as you held onto ellie as much as you could, scared that if you let go she'd disappear. your eyes shut close together at the feeling of her hand lifting from your ass. you squinted them close, ready for heavy impact and well.. pain. but as her hand came down, slapping your skin harshly, you didn't feel all too much in pain. it was a sort of elevating, almost gratifying feeling. you wondered, why would something that was suppose to cause pain, actually cause pleasure? or, was that the whole point in the first place? your thoughts of rambling were cut off by another slap. you flinched, despite the feeling of pleasure, it still stung and you could only imagine how red your ass would be now. you flinched in her lap, causing her large hand to have to hold you in place so you didn't move. you whined out as the third hit came down on your pretty skin. ellie smirked to herself, her plan working out gracefully.

she rubbed your skin once more, placing a chaste kiss on the bottom of your back before returning. "you're doin' so good for daddy, baby, you'll get a reward later, m'kay?" but this time, she didn't offer you a chance to respond, didn't even give you time to do so for she was spanking you once more. you wondered if this was her plan all along, why she had ever bothered to play truth or dare in the first place. but despite ellie's wild imagination about you, and about this very moment, you across her lap and her own hand spanking you, she didn't actually intend for it to go this far, however, she loved it more than she could ever explain. "one more, bun." and that was it, one more sharp stinging slap as you flinched once more, teary eyed and pouty lips as the girl allowed you to crawl into her lap.

ellie's lips were far from a pout herself, on the contrary, there was a pretty smile playing on it. she pushed your hair behind your ear. "was so good for daddy, weren't you baby?" you nodded your head as you pushed it into the crook of her neck. she began to rock her hips slightly, knowing that her strap was bumping against your already soaked and sensitive pussy. "yeah, my good girl." rubbing your sides up and down. "what do you say i give you that reward now, hm?" you sat in her lap, nodding your head briskly.

it didn't take long to get to where you were. sitting on your knees completely naked in front of ellie who too was now completely naked all except for the strap that was strapped to her lower half, dangling in front of you as your mouth completely covered it. it was neon pink, pretty and... very long. your eyes were shut as your tongue felt around the silicone toy, whimpering as it hit the back of your throat.

ellie had earlier stated that she was going to fuck you with it and of course with big eyes and a watering mouth, you indefinitely agreed to it but when she told you that you'd need to prepare first, you had no idea what she was talking about. you were scared, nervous, completely gone timid, worried you'd mess up in some way. nonetheless, when you finally had her strap in your mouth, you couldn't get enough.

ellie was sitting on the bed, legs spread apart as if she were man spreading while you knelt on the ground, hands holding onto her thighs after she had guided the toy in between your lips. you moaned into it as she pushed your head down further. her hand had somehow would up at the back of your head, fingers interlacing your locks of hair.

she pushed your head down on the strap, bobbing it so that the strap moved, bumping against her own clit. "fuck, just like that." her voice tight, her throat closing up. but she could feel it, the stimulation becoming oh so much, so she forced your head up, allowing you to stop. you watched her closely, moving your head away so that a string of spit connected your lips with her strap. "fuck, baby, y'look so pretty like this." she mumbled, her thumb swiping across your glossy lips, she groaned, she couldn't get enough. "c'mere." patting the bed as she too readied herself.

" 'kay." you mumbled, standing up on your wobbly legs. you felt them become like jelly beneath you, whether it was from your first orgasm, whether it was due to the spanking you had recieved from earlier or it was simply because you had been on your knees for rather long, or perhaps it was a combination of them all. you sat yourself on the bed, instantly becoming attacked by ellie's kisses.

her hand came up to sooth your cheek, fingers softly padding against your lithe skin. she sloppily kissed you, hot, open mouthed and messy kisses. you moaned into it, finding it hard to kiss back, the heat in your core suddenly returning as you felt your own hand sitting between your legs, you found yourself almost grinding on it. you couldn't take it, though, not when you felt so high and yet recieved no friction in where you needed it the most.

ellie noticed this, however, she never scolded you, instead she simply pushed your shoulders back gently. the kiss was detatched as you found your body falling limp against the mattress beneath you. however, the girl instantly towered over your frame, lips pushing down to meet your own. there was a sense of need, one of desperation as you kissed her back, finding your lips completely chasing her own.

she made a move to stand her hands on either side of your head, trapping you while she also lined herself up, making it easy to slip in, but she didn't. she moved one hand down, not breaking the kiss as she slightly pumped the silicone dick, lining it up with your entrance but only allowing the tip to tease at your hole. you whined out harshly, grasping at her shoulders and looking up at her with big doey eyes.

"what's wrong baby?" she asked in such a condescending voice, knowing how desperately you needed her. but how dumb you felt now, you couldn't even speak, words becoming a complete mush inside your brain. "c'mon, can't give you what you want if you don't tell me what it is, bunny." fingers stroking at your inner thigh.

you simply couldn't help it anymore, despite as dumb as you felt. "please, daddy, please— need it so bad, please, just want you in me please, please!" you were a babbling, waffling mess as you tried anything you could, even bucking your own hips in hopes of slipping her strap in further.

her lips came down to kiss against your neck, cutting off your babbles with a whimper. "as you wish, love." and slowly, she entered. you moaned out, wincing slightly as your hands clawed at her bare back, not so much as covered in a bra by now. you couldn't help the way you clenched around it, sensitive area already so stimulated. you felt dumb, completely and utterly fucked out by just her fingers. "fuck." she grunted, her head bent down low to meet the crook of your neck, hovering over you as her strap made it's way inside. "fuck, that hurt?" but you didn't respond, simply shaking your head with an 'mm-mm' because, truly, it was all you could muster.

however, it did hurt, just a slight stinging feeling but it soon went away. ellie could tell this, despite your answer because ellie knew you better than you knew yourself and she certainly knew your body. so, she didn't move for a brief moment, allowing you to collect yourself and breathe a breath out. "c-can you move?" you asked feebly, you knew she was awaiting your command, but you found it so incredibly hard to ask, you knew you shouldn't feel so embarrassed. after all, it was ellie, your best friend, the girl you had been so utterly in love with since you laid eyes upon her. there was no one you'd rather be doing this with.

" 'course i can, baby." pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek before she began to move.

it began slow, the way her hips slowly pulled out, not the full way, of course, then slowly pushing back in. the pace began to pick up after that and her thrust was a little more powerful. her eyes strained down on where you met, she couldn't help the groans that left her lips at your pitiful whimpers, the ones in which it awfully hard to stop herself from letting go completely.

but soon after she found you both comfortable. she did, in fact, let go.

she was soon enough slamming her hips against your own. it didn't take long, for her self control to be thrown right out of the window. she didn't stop her swift pace at anything. the room had a lingering smell of sex, there were beads of sweat on both your foreheads. "fuck, yeah, taking my dick so well." she grunted out, shoving her strap into your pussy further, allowing it to reach your g spot as you moaned out loudly.

your legs had soon found themselves wrapped around her waist, her hand on the bottom of your lower back as you found your own arms holding her shoulders close. she could feel your tits against her own, pushing up against her as she fucked you with everything she could, free had on your thigh, prodding and squishing at the loose fat while her strap pumped into your tight hole. you were a babbling mess, moaning and mewling, fast whimpers falling from your lips and all rather loud. but how could you fight it? when her 'dick' felt so good inside of you, when she pumped it so hard yet so delicately. you felt as though you were on fire, you were sure, there was no better feeling than this. you felt so good that you couldn't even form coherent sentences.

with your whines and mewls she only picked up her pace, strap bumping against her clit as she fucked you hard, practically fucking you right into the mattress. "you like my cock?" she panted out, heavy and quick. she took your mewl and went with it, a big smirk plastered onto her face. "fuck, yeah you like daddy's cock." and you couldn't even deny it, for it was very true.

there was a feeling building up in your stomach, one of which had you screaming. you knew exactly what it was, for you had felt it the same way you did beforehand, the very same feeling you felt when her fingers were buried into your tight hole. and ellie too, could feel her own stomach building up with tension. she glanced down, to where her strap disappeared inside your tiny hole, a creamy ring sitting at the base of where you connected. down to every girl she had ever fucked, this was undoubtedly the best. she had never felt so euphoric in her entire life.

your high pitched whine, attempt to babble out words, it alerted ellie just what who was coming. "i know, i know." shushing you like a baby as he held onto you as tight as she could, her knuckles turning a white colour instead of her naturally olive skin. she too let out more grunts than she could afford, barely able to keep her noises contained as she rammed her hips against yours. "come f'me, angel, come on daddy's cock." and that was it, once again you were falling apart like mush in her hands.

the sight of you, turning to putty in her very own arms, she couldn't help herself, she too felt herself letting go. she turned her hips into sloppy slaps against your body, lips chasing yours as she attempted to kiss you hard yet messily, you could barely kiss back, however you did your very best, wanting nothing more than to please ellie.

finally, she slipped her silicone strap outside of you, turning to lay on her side as she still held you in her arms. your own hands came up to grasp her strong bicep, tired and droopy eyes not bothering to so much as look up at her. you couldn't move, too dumb, too fucked out, you couldn't so much as utter a word. at that, ellie grinned a wide grin, knowing only two orgasms had you so fucked out and overstimulated, she felt pride booming in her chest for after all, she did that. "truth or dare, baby?" she joked causing you to roll your eyes.

with all the energy you could, you shoved her chest a little. "shut up." you mumbled before sticking your head right between her arms and her chest, allowing yourself to burrow.

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javierpena-inatacvest · 6 months

Text

Tired

Summary: You had spent weeks looking forward to your date night with Javi, but once the day actually arrives, it seems like everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong. Lucky for you, Javi knows just how to make your day better.

Word Count: 5.8K

Pairing: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, bathtub sex (hehehe) vaginal fingering, creampie, praise kink, big ole nasty breeding kink (listen, who am I to deny this man as many children as he wants), alcohol/being tipsy, food/eating, mom guilt, Chucho being the cutest Abuelito, Javi winning the award for dad/husband/dilf of the year 😩🥵

A/N: .... Well. Here we are again 🫠 When I tell you have made a rent free residency in my head... I do not kid you AT ALL. This has been my favorite story for our sweet little family so far. It also may or may not be how Harper is conceived OOPS 🤷🏼‍♀️ I love them, your honor.

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

Every day for the past three weeks, you had been counting down to the 19th on your family calendar stuck to the side of your fridge, where the words “date night” had been scribbled in Javi’s messy handwriting. While you loved your girls, it had been a while since just you and Javi had a night to yourselves, so when Chuhco offered to babysit, the 4 of you couldn’t have been more thrilled- You and Javi got an evening alone, and Lucy and Elliot got to spend the night with their favorite Abuelito (Grandpa) at the ranch, getting lots of quality time with the animals, and one too many late night snacks.

You had been looking forward to this day for weeks, and that’s why when the 19th finally arrived, you couldn’t have been more disappointed that everything that could have gone wrong that day, felt like it had.

Lucy insisting she help with breakfast before preschool and dropping the rest of the egg carton on your kitchen floor.

Elliot refusing to nap while Lucy was at school, leaving you with no time to get any of the things done around the house you had planned.

The dog getting into the bathroom garbage and then throwing up 14 qtips on your carpet.

The girls having a meltdown at the grocery store because they couldn’t bring home one of the balloons from the end of the checkout aisle.

Going on an hour long manhunt for Flipper, Lucy’s favorite stuffed penguin she insisted had to go with her to Chucho’s, which ended up being hidden under a blanket in her bed.

Snapping at the girls out of frustration as they chased each other through the kitchen while you were trying to finish making them dinner.

Your pounding headache and tired body from feeling like you had been doing nothing but scrambling all day long just to stay afloat.

And now, with Lucy teaming up with Elliot in their no-nap strike, you hadn’t even had time to shower or get ready for your date by the time Javi had gotten home, leaving you with barely under an hour before you had to leave to make it to your dinner reservations on time.

You wanted so desperately to just forget about the shitshow that had been your Friday, but try as you might, you couldn’t help but find yourself in an overwhelmed and grouchy mood. A mood that you did not want to be in on your long awaited date night with Javi, your internal battle of emotions only dampening your spirit further.

As you heard the garage door open and Javi’s familiar footsteps make their way down the hallway, you fought with everything in you to try and put on the happiest face you could, as if you were going to be able to will yourself out of your funk to enjoy the night with your husband.

“Hi, Hermosa.” Javi beamed, setting down his bag to wrap you in a hug, pressing a soft kiss onto your forehead before looking down at you in slight confusion, seeing that you were still in leggings and one of his oversized t-shirts, hair plopped up in a messy bun with very little time left before the 4 of you needed to head out to Chucho’s to make it to your dinner reservations. “Listen, baby, you know I think you look absolutely stunning in anything, but I do think the restaurant may be a touch nicer than my 20 year old t-shirt from college.”

“I know, sorry, it’s just been- It’s been a day. The girls are in the living room playing, do you mind getting their bags and watching them until we have to go so I can shower?” You tried your best to force a smile up at Javi, who was now cradling your jaw in his large palm, tracing his thumb along your cheek. His big brown eyes stared back at you, almost as if he knew there was something off that you didn’t want to get into right now, planting another kiss in your messy hair as you let out a deeper than intended exhale.

“Of course, Osita. Anything else I can do to help while you get ready?””

“No, just that. Thanks, Jav.”

“DADDY!” Two pairs of tiny feet pattered down the hallway, Lucy and Elliot bolting towards their dad with arms outstretched, Javi now squatting down to greet them with a smile stretched across his face, almost as wide as theirs.

“Ahhhh, there are my pollitas! C’mere mis amorcitas (my little loves).” Scooping the girls up in his arms, Javi picked up Elliot and Lucy, resting one on each hip, peppering little kisses over their faces, making them erupt in laughter. “Let’s head back to the living room so we can let Momma get ready before we leave for Abuelito’s house, sí?”

“Okay, Daddy! Will you play horsies with us?” Lucy squealed, wrapping her little arms around Javi’s neck, giving him a hug.

“Of course, Lucy Goosey.” Javi turned back to give you one last smile as he whisked the girls off to the living room, the sight of him carrying your daughters with such genuine joy and happiness being the first thing that had brought genuine relief today.

The relief was short lived though, now looking up at the clock to see you were down to 45 minutes to shower and make yourself look like a halfway decent human. You frantically sped through your routine, cranking up the temperature of the water in the shower to as hot as it could go as you tried to wash away the remnants of your day. Unfortunately, the water could have been a million degrees and it wouldn’t have been enough- You forgot you were out of shampoo, having to settle for Javi’s instead, and after trying to speed shave, you realized as you were drying yourself off, you had completely forgotten to shave the bottom half of your right leg.

You were thankful for the loud fan in your master bathroom, knowing it was enough to drown your tears as you stared yourself down in the mirror, feeling like an absolute mess. You didn’t feel excited, or pretty, or any of the things you wanted to feel before going out on your date. Truth be told, you felt like a shitty, worn down gremlin of a mom who just wanted to do nothing more than curl up in a blanket and hide away from the world for the rest of the night. Taking a long inhale, you shook your head, forcing yourself to wipe the wetness away from your cheeks to finish getting ready, and while with your hair and makeup done, and cute flowy dress wrapped around your body, you looked externally better than you had an hour ago, internally, you still didn’t feel much better.

You grabbed your coat and purse, making your way back into the living room to see Javi changed into navy dress pants and sport coat to match, with a white button down underneath, sitting on the couch with one daughter on each side, arms wrapped around them while they read “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” for what you were sure must have been the 17th time since you had gotten into the shower, considering it was the only book Lucy had wanted to read in the past week. Hearing you step through the doorway, Javi’s face lit up, biting down on his lip as he nudged the girls, pointing towards you. “Pollitas, look. Doesn’t Mommy look so pretty?”

“You’re so beautiful, Mommy!” Lucy grinned, bolting up off the couch, wrapping her arms around your leg, squeezing it tightly.

“So pweety, Mommy!” Elliot cooed, toddling over to join her sister, clutching around your other leg.

You could feel the tears beginning to well behind your eyes again, seeing your little girls attached at your hip and your sweet husband staring back at you, wondering how in the world had given you 3 people who loved you so much on the days you loved yourself so little. You let out a little gulp, trying to choke back your sobs, leaning down to kiss each of the girls on the head.

“Thank you Munchkins. Not as beautiful as my little chickens or as handsome as your Daddy, but that’s okay. You ready to go to Abuelito’s?” You mumbled through your words, your tone now making Javi’s brow scrunch in concern, giving you that look he gave you when he knew something was bothering you and you were being too stubborn to admit it. With enthusiastic squeals from the girls, they were practically running out the front door to the car, you following close behind them with their overnight bags, Javi following behind you just as closely, desperate to figure out what was on your mind.

The drive to Chucho’s was fairly quiet besides Lucy and Elliot’s sing-along to the Lion King soundtrack that had been a permanent fixture in your car for the past few car rides. As the girls half babbled the words in the backseat, Javi reached over, resting his hand on your thigh and rubbing soft circles against your skin, giving you that look that said, “I know something’s wrong and you’re not telling me”, you exchanging back with an incredibly unconvincing, “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.”

As you pulled up to the Peña ranch, Chucho was already outside, waiting on the porch in his rocking chair, his face beaming just as sweetly as Lucy and Elliot’s as they ran out of the car to greet their grandpa.

“Hola, nietas! (Hi, granddaughters!)” Chucho cooed, letting out a little grunt as Lucy and Elliot barreled into him, squeezing him in their grasp. “How are my favorite little ladies?”

“Hi Abuelito!”

The girls giggled as Chucho kissed them both on the cheek, smiling up at you and Javi as you carried the girls bags to the front door. “Oh díos mio, girls. Look at how nice your mamá and papá look tonight!”

“Thanks Pops.” Javi laughed, setting one of the bags down on the porch. “You still okay if we come pick these two monsters up tomorrow morning?”

“Monstruos? My sweet nietas? Never.” Chucho laughed, giving the girls a little shake as the two of them giggled at their grandpa. “Come by whenever you’d like. You know I am more than happy to have these two as long as you’ll let me.”

“Thanks, Chucho.” You nodded, setting another bag down next to the one Javi had placed on the porch. “Do you need us to do any-”

“Mija, I have everything I need. Don’t worry about a thing. Now go. The two of you deserve a nice night out. Me and the girls will be just fine, won’t we?” Chucho grinned down at Lucy and Elliot, bouncing in excitement.

“Thanks, Dad. Be good for your Abuelito, sí? I told him if you’re naughty, you’re gonna have to go sleep out with the cows.” Javi teased, kneeling down to the girls level, giving them a little tickle and kiss before wrapping them in his arms. “Te amo, Pollitas. (I love you, little chickens).”

“Bye girls, we’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We love you.” You joined Javi, crouching down to give your girls one last hug and kiss before they were already halfway through the front door, bursting into Chucho’s house with excitement.

You thanked Chucho again, making your way back to the car, pulling down the dusty, dirt driveway before making your way back on the road. “God, I’m convinced he loves those girls more than anything else on the face of this earth. I’m sure that means he won’t mind keeping them just a little longer tomorrow, huh, Hermosa?” Javi smirked, once again placing his hand on your thigh, giving it a little squeeze before realizing you had been staring out the passenger side window from the moment you had gotten in the car, trying desperately to snap yourself out of the terrible funk of your day you just couldn’t seem to shake.

You felt the wetness beginning to pool under your eyelids, your breaths becoming shaky and weary, trying to pull yourself together from the tired, guilty and grumpy mess that you were, but it was no use. “Hermosa? You okay?” Javi asked again, confused by your silence, gripping your leg a little tighter, the sweet and gentle tone of his voice being the final straw that broke the camel’s back. You let your tears fall freely, your sobs becoming louder and heavier as you shook your head back and forth, Javi immediately pulling over the truck to the side of the dirt road, unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you into a hug as you cried against his chest. “Baby. Baby what’s wrong? Hey, shhhh, it’s okay, Osita. I’m here, it’s okay.”

Javi held you, letting you take your time to cry before trying to prod about the reason behind it, feeling you take long, exasperated deep breaths against him before pulling away, wiping away the tears that had been flowing down your face. “It’s been such a shitty day, Jav. I felt like such a bad mom, and I’m so tired and I’ve been looking forward to this date with you for so long and I’m just fucking exhausted. I’m so sorry. Our date hasn’t even started yet and I’m already ruining it.” It wasn’t long before you were sobbing again, leaning back into the broadness of Javi’s body as he immediately wrapped his arms around you, gently cradling the back of your head as you cried, feeling his own heart break from seeing how hard you were on yourself.

“Hermosa…” He cooed, pressing you against his chest while he ran his fingers through your hair. “Baby… Listen to me, okay? You are not a bad mom. You are the most wonderful mother in the world to our girls. I have no fucking clue how you do what you do all day long, but there is no one else in the world I would rather have to help raise them with. You are so sweet and patient with them, God, they’re little mini versions of you and I couldn’t be happier. You are an amazing mom, you understand?”

“It didn’t feel like it today. God, they were so tough today and it was exhausting, I yelled at them today for running in the kitchen and I felt so bad, I just- fuck- being a mom is so hard, Jav. I love it, I do, I love those girls so much, but today I felt like I was running for worst parent of the year award. And now I can’t even pull it together enough for our date that we’ve both been looking forward to. I’m so sorry, Javi.”

“Osita, you are not ruining anything. Baby, if I get to spend time with you, I’m happy. I don’t care where we go or what we do, if I’m with you, it doesn’t matter. So, that being said,” he paused, tilting your head up towards him, gently wiping away your tears with his thumb, “we’re gonna go home, pick up pizza, open a bottle of wine, sit and soak in the tub for as long as you want to, and then I’m gonna make sweet, sweet love to my beautiful, amazing wife until she knows just how much I love and appreciate everything she does for our family. Okay?” You let out a little huff of laughter, a small smile finally appearing in the corners of your lips as you helped to wipe your tears away.

“Are you sure? You planned dinner reservations and I-”

“I’ve never been so sure. I love you, Osita. You are everything to me, and I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to make sure you remember it.”

“God, now you’re gonna make me cry even more, you dummy.” You laughed, Javi joining in as you gave him a playful nudge. “I love you too, Jav. You’re way too good to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” As Javi’s sweet brown eyes locked with yours, the weight in your chest began to ease, wondering how in the world you had gotten so goddamn lucky. Buckling himself back in, and shifting the car into drive, Javi turned around, changing directions back to home, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Can we get breadsticks with the pizza, too?”

“Whatever you want, baby, it’s yours.”

With an extra large pizza and breadsticks in your lap, the drive back to your house was spent in a much lighter mood than your drive to drop off the girls at their grandpa’s. You switched out the Lion King disk in your CD player for Fleetwood Mac, the two of you happily singing along to “I Don’t Wanna Know” as you pulled back into the driveway of your house.

You were greeted by your dog, Bear, wagging his tail in delight at your presence from the comfort of the couch, rolling over to show you his belly, Javi gladly obliging in giving him some scratches before Bear gladly put himself back to sleep, curled up against a throw pillow. “Old man could really give two shits about us being home, huh?” Javi laughed, giving the dog one last pat before making his way back over to you in the kitchen, already shoving a cheesy piece of pizza into your mouth.

“I think he’s just as relieved from a night off from the gremlins as we are.” You laughed, catching a stringy piece of cheese that had fallen from your lips, making you and Javi both chuckle. “Is it bad if we eat pizza and drink wine in the tub?” You raised an eyebrow at Javi, gesturing towards your food, anxious to take a relaxing soak, your tub used more frequently by Lucy and Elliot than either of the two of you these days.

“Of course not, Osita. Why don’t you get stuff ready upstairs and I’ll bring wine and pizza up? What wine do you want?”

“I mean… It is date night. Should we break out the nice wine the Murphy’s got us the last time they came over? We did say we were saving it for a special occasion.” You smirked, holding up your half eaten piece of pizza to toast to your failed date night out, you and Javi both shaking your heads in laughter. Javi reached up in the cabinet above the fridge, pulling out the bottle and examining it before getting out a bottle opener and popping off the top.

“God, the amount of shit Steve would give me to know that this got opened to be drank in our fucking bathtub…”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” You winked, giving Javi a kiss on the cheek before taking the last bite of your pizza. “Meet you upstairs?”

“Can’t wait.”

After making your way up the stairs and into your master bathroom, you cranked on the water in the tub, making it hot enough for your liking, but not hot enough Javi would complain about it being the surface of the sun. You thought that you had another set of bubbles to put in the bath besides the ones that you used for the girls, but after digging around in the bathroom cabinet, you had to settle for the bright pink, birthday cake scented bottle Lucy had insisted on getting during your last shopping trip. After the tub was full and bubbles were mixed and foaming, you stripped your clothes, dropping them on the tile floor in a heap next to the bathtub before tying up your hair and stepping into the water, sinking down to your neck and letting out a deep sigh as you closed your eyes in relief. You could feel the tension beginning to ease from your body, taking a moment to sit in the sweet silence before you heard Javi’s footsteps trailing up the stairs, gently swinging open the bathroom door, pizza and wine in his hands and a soft smile on his face.

“Give me one more second, okay?” Setting down his things on the counter, Javi exited back out of the bathroom, quickly returning with a handful of candles and lighter, placing them around the room and lighting them all before turning off the overhead lights, the light of orange and yellow flames flickering against the walls in a soft, warm glow.

“Wow, didn’t know I was going to the spa tonight. Very romantic of you, Jav.” You grinned, crossing your arms over the edge of the tub, resting your chin overtop of them as you stared at Javi, now undressing himself of his own clothes, throwing them into the pile with yours. “And the spa has hot naked men bringing me pizza and wine? God, I should come here more often.” You giggled, looking up at him in admiration as he passed you over your plate and glass before grabbing his own and stepping in to join you, sliding down the porcelain on the opposite side of the tub. “Thank you for this, Javi. I know it’s not what we had planned, but I really needed this.”

“Of course, mi amor (my love).” Javi smiled at you, bringing his slice of pizza halfway up to his mouth before taking an over exaggerated sniff of the bubbles below him. “Why does the bath smell like a birthday cake?”

“I thought I had other bubbles but the only ones I could find were Lucy and Ellie’s so we have birthday cake flavored bubbles.” The two of you laughed, shaking your heads as you bit down into your pizza, knowing that there was no one else in the world you could be happier to spend a night in a tub full of birthday cake bubbles with.

After you had finished your dinner and were a few more glasses of wine in, you had shifted in the tub so that you were settled in between Javi’s legs, resting with your back against his chest and leaning your head back on your shoulder with his hands wrapped around your body, the two of you chatting and laughing away, not knowing or caring how much time had gone by. You had covered everything from Javi’s day at work, to vacation plans, now to Lucy’s interest in soccer, which had been a hot topic of conversation.

“I know, I was talking to some of the other moms at the preschool about it, and they said they’d have their girls do soccer too, they just don’t have anyone to coach. They’re trying to find one of the dads to do it so they can start in the spring.”

“Are you trying to get me to coach a soccer team?” Javi laughed, rubbing his hands up and down the length of your arms. “Baby, I know absolutely nothing about teaching 4 year olds how to play soccer, you would be better at it than I would.”

“Well exactly, they’re 4 Jav, it can’t be rocket science. I think you would be good at it. You know Lucy would whip everyone into shape to make sure they listened to you.”

“Honestly, she would probably be a better coach than I would.”

“She honestly would. I’m being serious though, baby! You’re so sweet and patient with the girls. Plus, it’d be good eye candy to watch from the sidelines.” You giggled, tilting your head up towards Javi, biting down on your lip.

“Good eye candy, huh?” Javi smirked back down at you, sliding his hand down your arm to your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Mmmmhhmmm. I could get to show off my hot, handsome husband and what a great dad he is for his girls. Make all the other moms jealous.” You cooed, shifting your body to face towards him, straddling over his lap, running your hands through the dark curls at the nape of his neck. You could feel Javi’s hands beginning to shift with you, now wrapping his arms around the small of your back, grabbing a fistfull of your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hands. You tilted your head, letting your lips land tenderly on his before his tongue was swiping in the opening of mouth, the tenderness transforming into a passionate electricity. You let your hands roam down his neck towards his chest, sliding down under the water over his stomach, palming at his dick, already half hard in your hands. “Such a good Daddy, that maybe…” You moaned in between kisses, “Maybe it’s time for you to give me another baby.”

Javi paused, his eyes going wide at your comment, his jaw almost hanging open as he let out a little gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “Hermosa… Baby, are you serious?” He couldn't help but let a boyish grin escape from his lips, his face lighting up brighter than a little kid on Christmas.

You and Javi had agreed you had both wanted a third, but decided to hold off until Elliot was past the 18 month mark before trying again. Javi had been dying for another kid, and had been using as much self restraint as he could to keep from asking you every day if the two of you could start trying for your third child after Elliot had turned a year and a half. It felt ironic that the circumstances you found yourself in to ask him if he wanted to have another baby were because of how exhausted you were from the two you already had, but God, after thinking about him coaching that soccer team, there was something about the thought of your sweet, loving husband with another baby attached to his hip that made any ounce of willpower you had left absolutely dissipate. If Javi wasn’t hard enough from your touch, the thought alone of getting you pregnant again was more than plenty.

“You wanna put another baby in me, Jav?” You smirked, wrapping your hand around his cock, gently stroking it as he groaned, letting his head fall to your shoulder, quietly laughing to himself, almost as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Fuck me…” Javi hissed, tugging you closer towards him, the sudden movement making water splash over the sides of the tub. One of the hands grabbing your ass snaked around to your front, grazing over your hip and inner thigh before making its way between your legs and circling against your clit. “Fuck, I want to so badly. It’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few weeks, how much I wanna grow our family, give the girls another sibling, see you all beautiful and pregnant carrying our perfect baby again. Will you let me, Osita? Let me fuck another baby into you, Momma?” The pressure of his fingers on your sensitive bundle of nerves had you moaning, letting out a soft whimper as his two fingers pressed deep into your heat, slowly rocking his fingers along the soft spongy spot inside you that he knew made you crumble.

“Oh my God, yes. Fuck- fuck, I need you to, Javi, please.” You whined, Javi’s mouth now working its way down to your breasts, sucking and flicking at your pebbled nipples as his fingers fucked into you deeper and harder, burying your head in the crook of his neck, the sensation of his tongue and hands making your pussy begin to flutter. The heel of his palm dug deeper into your clit, pressure building in your belly as your hips rocked against his hand, each roll making more and more water overflow onto the floor as you braced yourself, digging your fingers into the skin of Javi’s broad back as that sweet and familiar tingle built at the base of your spine.

“That’s it, sweet girl, I know you’re close. Give me one on my fingers and then I swear, I’m gonna fuck you so full of me, I’ll get you pregnant tonight.” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, feeling your cunt begin to clench around his fingers, your breathing becoming heavy and shaky as you moaned. Suddenly, you felt the coil in your belly snap, making you cry out as your orgasm ripped through your body, flooding every inch of you with euphoria and pleasure as you reached your peak.

Javi placed languid kisses and nips down your neck and collarbone as you slumped into him, coming down from your high with labored breaths, finally composing yourself enough to sit up to see the satisfied grin spread across his cheeks, a lustful and mischievous look pooling in the dark brown of his eyes as he stared at your blissed out face. “How much you wanna bet?” You smirked, biting down on your lip before leaning in to tug at Javi’s earlobe with your teeth as you scooted closer over his lap, shifting your body up in the water of the tub to hover over his cock, carefully guiding it to line up with your entrance.

“Bet what, Osita?”

“Bet that you get me pregnant tonight?” You mewled, slowly sinking yourself down onto Javi’s length, savoring the sweet sting and stretch of him inside you until you had bottomed out, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. “That 9 months from now, we’ll have one more baby that gets to fill another room in our house?” Gently, you began swirling your hips, letting Javi’s cock stay buried deep inside you, splitting you open in the best way possible, almost making you speechless.

“Jesus Christ, Hermosa…” Javi sighed, digging his fingertips into your sides, guiding your bottom half as it rolled in his lap. “I’d bet anything, because I’m gonna fuck myself so deep inside you, it’ll take. You want another baby? I’ll give you another baby, Osita. I’ll give you anything you want. My beautiful wife, amazing mom to our girls, fuck- you deserve everything.”

Moans escaped from both your parted lips as you began to raise yourself up and down along Javi’s length, now punching along the spot inside you that had your mind going numb. His fingers circled against your already sensitive clit as he thrust up into you, the feeling of him all consuming, even as the lukewarm water of the bath swirled between you. You draped your arms around his neck as his free one wrapped around the small of your back, your bodies melting together as one as you pushed and pulled with each stroke.

You could feel your cunt beginning to clench again, heat blooming in your belly with each swirl of your hips, tugging at the damp curls of Javi’s hair at the nape of his neck as his thrusts became more frantic and sloppy, telling he was just as close to reaching his own high as you were. “Fuck, Javi, fuck- I’m so close baby, oh shit- don’t stop.” You whined into the crook of his neck, pulling yourself even tighter against his body.

“I’m not gonna stop, Osita. Not gonna stop until fuck you full of me and fuck another baby into you. That what you want, Hermosa?” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, pounding deeper and faster into you with each word, the water from the tub sloshing and spilling onto the tile floor below you.

“Yes, fuck- oh my god, yes, fuck Javi, oh shit- fuck baby, I’m gonna-ahhhhhhhh.” Once again, your orgasm radiated through every inch of your body, making your legs shake and mind go blank as you cried out Javi’s name, practically melting into him as he continued to thrust into you with a desperate ferocity, close to his own end. Javi’s arms wrapped around your back, caging you against his chest, fingertips gripping in the soft skin of your shoulder blades as he fucked into you, babbling incoherently.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Fuck, I’m close too, Hermosa. Oh fuck- God, I can’t wait to see you pregnant again. So fucking beautiful carrying our baby. You’re such a- fuck- good mom to our girls, my fucking perfect wife, I’m so luck-ahhhhhhh.” With one final thrust inside you, you could feel Javi painting your walls in his spend, milking himself of every last drop, his breath ragged and heavy as he leaned into you, your chests rising and falling in sync as you came to.

“Well…” You laughed to yourself, shaking your head against Javi’s shoulder where it had been resting, now lifting up to grin at his blissed out face, “Safe to say we should probably clean this tub out before we let the girls use it again.”

Javi joined in your laugher, the two of you giggling to yourselves over your antics, peeking over the side of the tub to see the giant puddles pooling on your bathroom floor. “I mean, the water had soap in it, so at least the floor is clean.” Javi smirked, cupping his hand around your jaw, pressing his smiling lips to yours.

“Clean, really? Not like we need any extra towels or anything to wipe up all the water we spilled all over the floor because now it’s just magically clean, huh Jav?” You teased, giving him a playful nudge, Javi rolling your eyes at your heavy dose of sarcasm. “We probably should get out and wipe all of this up. Any longer in here and I think our future kid is gonna come out just as pruney as we are.”

“Dork. I’ll clean everything up. Why don’t you go put on pajamas and I’ll meet you in bed, okay?”

“Javi, I was just teasing. I am half the reason for this mess, I can help clean it up and-”

Javi silenced the rest of your sentence with his lips, capturing the rest of your words in his mouth. “I know you can, Osita. I want to. Let me clean up. Can’t have you working too hard, Momma. Gotta make sure you stay nice and rested so you can grow baby number 3.”

“You are ridiculous, you know that? You just gonna magically will me to be pregnant after tonight?” You sighed, laughing as the two of you made your way out of the tub, wrapping yourselves up in the fluffy towels you had left out on the bathroom counter, Javi draping his towel around the both of you as he leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair.

“I told you, I’d bet you anything. 5 bucks.”

“5 bucks what, smartass?”

“5 bucks says you don’t get your period and we find out you're pregnant by the end of the month.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, if you are anything, Javier Jesús Peña…” You smirked, pressing up on your tiptoes to peck another kiss on his lips, “it’s confident. I hope you’re right, but I’ll take your bet.”

If Javi was also anything, it wasn’t wrong. Because 4 weeks later, after a missed period and 3 sets of double pink lines on your pregnancy tests, baby Peña number 3 was on their way. So when you handed Javi 5 dollars and a little white box with one of your tests, you couldn’t help but laugh to know that even though your future daughter was the product of a date night gone wrong, it couldn't have felt more right knowing you were lucky enough to grow your family by one more with the man you loved more than anything else in the world.

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper

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anchoeritic · 1 year

Text

「 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬. 」

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jake sully x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nsfw(18+), minors dni. clit play, overstimulation, fingering, pet names (babygirl, sweetheart, etc.), choking kink, hair pulling.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: teasing jake all day doesn't end in your favour… until it does.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is a short piece, i'm sorry. buuuut i hope you still enjoy. reblogs and feedback are always appreciated, never pressured! and this is also a repost, oops.

was it a typical thing for a man to fall to the feet of a beautiful girl? to beg for a taste of her?

he knew what he was getting himself into, he knew what they outcome would be like, and he still couldn’t resist you.

you knew what you were doing and knew about the effect you had on him.

you always paid close attention to him when it came to little things: like holding your eye contact with him and watching as he smirked to himself.

or watching the way he would cross his legs to cover up the growing bulge between his thighs.

you had done it all on purpose, wanting to get a rise out of him, and you definitely did.

and jake was tired of it, which leads to how he cornered you. yep. against a tree.

“you know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” he growled, wrapping his hand around your throat tightly.

giggling at him, you looked down at his lips, catching sight of what may be devouring you later.

“maybe i do,” you smiled, “what are you going to do about it, sully?”

the grip around your neck tightened, your face growing warm. you were now choking on your words, unable to speak full sentences, only babbled words and whimpers.

tears welled up in your eyes as they rolled back. a shiver was sent down your spine, feeling your panties dampen at the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your throat.

“you should be scared, sweetheart.”

turning you around, he had your face pressed up against the thick wood.

your hair was far from looking like it always did, his other hand tangled between the many strands, grabbing onto it. saliva had slid from the sides of your mouth, blending in with the tears that had fallen prior.

his hand was firmly gripping on the back of your head, holding you in place.

“are you going to do something about it, babygirl?” he taunted, giving your hair a soft tug.

you shook your head softly, letting out a broken whine in response.

he knew for sure that he had you bottomed out to him at this point. you were under his command from now on and it wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

his other hand slid down from your hair, slipping itself down your pants and cupping your cunt.

breathy moans escaped from your lips as you felt his finger graze over your clit in circular motions.

“c’mon, let me hear you.”

moving your hips, you increased the friction, adding onto the pleasure of his fingers.

“jake,” you cried, grabbing ahold of his arm.

the digits on your clit started to move faster, going in eight figures.

his cock grew as he watched you get off to his fingers, the sight in front of him causing him to lick his lips.

a natural beauty, you were. you were a rare one. the universe had favourites and it really showed, you were definitely one of them.

“i’m cumming,” you cried out.

hearing your pleads, he attacked your neck with kisses, trying to push you over the edge some more. “go ‘head then, baby.”

“cum all over my fingers.”

and you did. you screamed as you felt a wave of euphoria crash over and down on you.

your thighs trembled, ready to collapse under you. you would’ve been on the ground if it wasn’t for jake and the security of his arms.

you felt so dirty, sinful. you just let him touch you: a man you were forbidden to fall for.

you knew it was bad, but it felt too good.

lost in the mix of lust and love, you pulled him down by his neck, your lips connecting once again.

you could never get tired of this feeling.

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully smut #avatar smut #avatar

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malgomy · 3 months

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new wave dreams

Malleus smiles. You know this smile. In all your time with him, you’ve become intimately familiar with his different smiles. This smile, you fear, spells your doom.

This smile is smug.

“I recall Grim whining about spilled milk on his fur,” he hums, expression deceivingly serene. “Just before he went to sleep, he was telling me about how you have to clean up yet another mess and how dreadfully clumsy his henchhuman is.”

Oh that snitch.

or;

You're clumsy, Ramshackle has outdated appliances, and Grim is incapable of keeping house secrets.

tags: 2.7k words, cross-posted on ao3 under the same name and the same alias. this is my first work on here cries have mercy on me when it comes to formatting, ok. title is from P.U.N.K. Girl by Heavenly

You have a problem.

An issue, a predicament, a conundrum, even.

See, you’ve developed a bit of a … bad habit. Grim is a very deep sleeper and ever since you’ve been thrown into Twisted Wonderland, you are decidedly not. Whether it be unnerving dreams that wake you up or just plain insomnia, you’ve spent many a night kept awake with only Grim’s incessant snoring to keep you company.

And well… it’s not like your stomach stops working either. So maybe it’s not uncommon for you to sneak down into the kitchen and make yourself something to eat, and maybe it’s not uncommon for you to sneak back into your comfortable bed and eat while under the covers. Maybe.

You’re so used to the sound of boisterous laughter coming from the kitchen in Ramshackle that the dead of night just makes it… eery. Not to mention, the ghosts who live in the dorm have no sense of when is a good or bad time to play a silly little prank on you. Is it really so bad to want the comfort of a wall against your back and blankets trapping your warmth while you enjoy a home cooked meal?

It’s just that… your hand might have slipped while crawling into bed and you might have spilled your cereal all over your bed while Grim was still sleeping in it. Oops.

This is where your predicament lies. Grim is now partially awake, bleary eyed and upset at having been woken up at 2 am. Your sheets, comforter, and pajamas reek of milk. Class is at 9 am sharp, and if you leave things the way they are, you have no doubt that your room will reek of spoiled milk.

Which would be fixable, except for the fact that your biggest issue is that Ramshackle doesn’t have a laundry room.

Or… well… it does. Technically. Except you may have smacked the washing machine a little bit too hard to get it started once, and it hasn’t turned on ever since. You’ve been doing your laundry in Heartslaybul with either Ace or Deuce accompanying you ever since.

But that is definitely not an option right now! Let alone the fact that Riddle would undoubtedly take your head if you snuck around and did laundry in his dorm at 2 am, you know for a fact that Ace would have a field day if he found out why your sheets were soaked with milk at this time of night. No, Heartslaybul is certainly not an option.

Which leaves… no options at all. You suppose you could just use the kitchen sink… or maybe the bathtub?

“I’m not cleaning this,” Grim grumbles. He’s rubbing his eyes and lets out a big yawn. Despite his insistence, he really is more catlike than anything else you’ve ever seen. When he looks up at you with his big blue eyes, you can’t help but forget how annoying he can be. Aw, now you feel bad.

“I wasn’t gonna make you, d’worry,” you mumble back. There’s no other option, you suppose. You begin peeling the sheets off the bed. It’s heavy, and it doesn’t help that your movements have a certain grogginess to them. Just your luck, you’re starting to get tired after you already made a mess. “I’m gonna head downstairs to clean this, you go back to sleep.”

Grim doesn’t respond to you, so you assume that he nodded off even without your prompting. When you make it downstairs though, you almost trip over him running right past you.

“We’ve got a visitor!”

You almost drop your clothes to rush over to the window. From your spot in the lounge, you can’t make out what Grim is seeing. “Huh? Who?”

“Who else visits ‘n the middle of the night?”

The clothes are unceremoniously dumped in the sink and you rush to the window. Sure enough, green sparks fly around a familiar silhouette underneath your porch.

Talk about bad timing. “I can’t just leave him out there, can I?”

Grim just shrugs up at you. Ugh, your bleeding heart. How could you leave a friend out in the cold when he came all the way just to see you? The ghosts would scold you for even entertaining the thought.

With strengthened resolve, you glance out the window one more time. Sure enough, Malleus is still standing on your porch. He’s staring intently at the doorknob, but as soon as you move the blinds, his eyes meet yours.

You don’t even give him the opportunity to knock.

“And what are you doing out here, unsupervised in the dead of night?” You say in lieu of a greeting. You grin up at him and open the door wide as an invitation to come in. Malleus slips into the foyer, but not without dramatics of his own.

“Might it be that I’m unwelcome into your humble abode?” He sighs, forlorn and melancholic. You’d almost believe that he was hurt, if not for the fond smile he gives to you and Grim and the airiness of his voice. “I suppose I ought to make myself scarce, and hope the loneliness of my dearest friend’s rejection doesn’t take my weary heart.”

“We can’t have you dying yet, now can we? Your retainers would have my head, I fear.” You flick the lights on, and lead the way further in. “Not to mention your family — I can’t have an army sent after me at my delicate age.”

“Oho! So all you care about is your own life? Careful, should you offend me too much, I may very well send the armed guards after you regardless.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at the dramatics. He’s too attached to you to do anything of the sort. “You’re welcome anytime, just make sure you leave your retainers a note or something.”

“That one guy’s too noisy when he doesn’t know where you are,” Grim grumbles.

“They should know very well by now to check for me here before breaking out into a frenzy,” Malleus breaks out into a grin, self-satisfied. “I am no babe; they haven’t a reason to fret over me so often.”

Grim lets out a little hmph! at that. “Betcha they're more worried ‘bout what you’re getting up to, going out at night all sneaky-like.”

You all pause for a moment at Grim’s statement. “Y’know Grim, it’s very rare that you say something smart.”

It takes a moment for what you say to process. Grim goes from smiling to attacking your leg in the blink of an eye.

“Hm, that very well may be it then,” When you glance up at Malleus, all you can describe his expression as is preening. “I trust that your word will be a suitable alibi then, should they assume that I’m up to mischief?”

“Oh I doubt it, with what we’re always up to? They’ll probably assume the worst as soon as you say my name.” A light hum is all that you get in response. Typical, Malleus tends to zone in and out of conversation. You lead him to the lounge with Grim still hanging off your leg, flicking lights on and fixing things up as you go. Everyone’s awake now, so there's no need to go traipsing through the dark. Besides, Malleus’ eyes seem to glow like a cats in the dark, and you don’t feel like going through that heart attack right now.

Malleus sits by the unlit fireplace, picking up a random book from the coffee table. Grim stays behind with him while you take a moment to head into the kitchen, ignoring the pile of sheets you dumped in there in order to grab some fruits. The living arrangements may be poor and decrepit, but never let it be said that you weren’t a good host. When you make it back, the fireplace is lit, and Grim is curled up in front of it. “He asleep?”

Malleus nods. His gaze washes over the fruits before settling on your face. “For me?”

“They’re chilled, but I think I remember you saying you liked ‘em better that way.”

He reaches out for a grape, plucking it from the vine with a delicate hand. He’s just about to pop it into his mouth when he pauses for a moment. “Ah.”

“What?”

“I’m not supposed to eat anything my retainers haven’t cleared first,” he sighs. “Poisoning and the like, you understand.”

You nod in understanding. You’ve never had Malleus decline anything you offered him before, but…

Wait a minute. He’s laughing.

“That is not true!” You dump the fruits on his lap, leaving him to place them delicately on the table. Malleus hums in amusement as you settle into place by his side. “I can’t tell when you’re joking, it’s not fair.”

“No poison you could get your hands on could harm me,” he says. “Let alone anything you could disguise with the taste of fruit.”

You think he’s joking. Malleus doesn’t force you to respond, content to nurse through the fruit in front of him. He alternates between giving you a handful of berries and popping them into his own mouth.

“Why was Grim awake at this hour? I seem to recall him to be a heavy sleeper, if nothing else,” Malleus murmurs out the question, like it’s not important enough to be articulated properly.

But it is. Because this is embarrassing. There is no way that you are going to reveal to the crown prince of any nation that you spilled cereal all over your bed while Grim was sleeping in it! Not even if you were tortured.

“Oh! I think he ate the leftover tart from Riddle’s unbirthday party,” you laugh, like a liar. “You know how it is, sugar highs and all that.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Must’ve worn off by the time you got here.”

Malleus smiles. You know this smile. In all your time with him, you’ve become intimately familiar with his different smiles. This smile, you fear, spells your doom.

This smile is smug.

Oh that snitch.

“It’s not important,” you rush to reassure Malleus. You wave a hand dismissively, hopefully putting an end to the subject matter. “Grim must’ve just been yapping, you know how he is.”

Before you can even process it, Malleus grabs your hand with both of his. Shocked but not uncomfortable, you don’t deign to snatch your hand back. If you didn’t know him any better, you’d say he even looks earnest. “I would be willing to lend you my aid no matter the situation, whether the problem be big or small.”

You can’t stand to look him in the eye like this. “It’s really not that serious.”

“Tell me what is troubling you, I will have it dealt with.”

… ominous. His grip on your hands is loose, his palms warm and dry. If you don’t catch yourself, you might start to lean into him.

Also… isn’t Malleus… a dorm leader? With access to his dorm’s laundry room? Really, maybe his late night arrival was just the solution to your self inflicted problems. Is it even taking advantage of the situation if he asked you?

With strengthened resolve, you lean in conspiratorially. “Nothing I tell you can leave this room.”

---

As it turns out, Malleus does technically have access to his dorm’s laundry room. Technically.

He just doesn’t know where it is.

“Hornton, aren’t you in your third year?”

“I’m well aware,” he shoots you a look. Man alive, is he pouting? “I just rarely have a reason to come do laundry myself.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him. Roaming Diasomnia’s halls in the wee hours of the morning with a trash bag over your shoulder filled with milk soaked sheets was never on your bucket list, but at least you have company! Even if the walls are tall and cold, Malleus is like a heater by your side. “We’ll find it together.”

The two of you, notably, do not find it together.

In your defense, Diasomnia is big. Malleus might know his way around these halls, but you are notorious for your horrible sense of direction. Seriously, you might as well be in a corn maze.

By the time you’ve scoured what you think is the entirety of the upper levels of Diasomnia, you’re about ready to throw in the towel. Far be it from you to ignore the sweet call of sleep.

“Malleus, I think we should just leave it,” you murmur. “With the way things are, I’ll be ok sleeping on the ground.”

You would not be fine on the ground, actually. But you are nothing if not a liar and exhausted.

“I suppose we should check the basement before we give up,” he hums.

…

You do not want to check the basement. The apprehension must show on your face, because all Malleus does is laugh. This man laughs at you.

“Worry not,” he breathes out between chuckles, “I won’t let any harm befall you.”

How comforting.

The door to Diasomnia’s basement is just like the rest of the dorm: cold and tall and imposing. When Malleus reaches out to open it, the door creaks open itself. Creepy.

“Can I let you go down by yourself and I stay up here with the living?”

Malleus casts you a sidelong glance. “The safest place is by my side.”

You can’t even respond, snarky or otherwise, because he’s not wrong.

“You go first,” you pat his arm. That way, if anything jumps out at you, he’ll get the brunt of the attack. “I’ll be right behind you.”

When Malleus takes the first step, you think you can hear an ominous thudding. But that’s probably just the paranoia speaking.

Your descent down the stairs is marked by you cowering behind Malleus and jumping every time you think you feel something ghosting over your shoulders. On the bright side, the basement seems to be well lit with torches.

When you make it to the bottom, you take a moment to examine your surroundings. It’s an open room, marked with chairs and a stack of baskets lined up against one wall. Along the opposite wall, however, stands the prize that you’ve been searching for all this time. Your long lost lover…

A row of washing machines.

“Oh finally!”

You don’t hesitate to run over to the first washing machine you see, tossing the trash bag you’ve been carrying over your shoulder onto the ground as you shed tears of relief. Not literally though, because you can only stand to embarrass yourself so many times in one night.

Malleus hovers behind you while you punch in the code for the rinse cycle and load the machine. He offers to help, but drops it when you almost bite his hand. No way are you letting him in close proximity to your dirty laundry. Once you’ve finished loading everything up and have slammed the lid to the machine shut, you get up to face him again.

“Well Malleus, I think we did good here today,” you nod, satisfied with the outcome of your journey. “I’m glad we could discover the location of Diasomnia’s laundry room together.”

“Dismissing me already? Humans can be so cruel,” he offers his hand to you, leading you to the seats on the other side of the room. “I believe you still have quite some time left before this load is finished.”

“Don’t remind me,” you whisper. As soon as your back hits the chair, you’re slumped over. It doesn’t help that Malleus is so warm next to you. “I’m exhausted.”

Malleus hums. “Then rest. I’ll wake you when the time comes.”

---

You wake up to your alarm sprawled over Ramshackle’s couch, a gray quilt tucking you so tightly you almost fall off the couch trying to get out of it.

On the table next to you are your clean folded sheets and a note.

Thank you for the company last night… I enjoy our time together greatly. I suppose the time to wake you never came. Apologies.

You don’t think he’s very sorry at all.

#malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #*shakes hands*#i made this b4 i fixed my intro post so if u click on my blog no u didn't

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devildom-moss · 8 months

Text

Biting their necks (Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, Thirteen, Mephistopheles)

What would happen if you bit their necks with no warning?

(Barbatos x gn!MC) (Simeon x gn!MC) (Solomon x gn!MC) (Thirteen x gn!MC) (Mephistopheles x gn!MC)

(suggestive)

Word Count: +2,800 (Simeon got +800. Oops)

Barbatos

Baking sessions – or lessons, depending on your skill level – were a good excuse to monopolize a bit of Barbatos’s time. It was just the two of you in the kitchen. He was at the stove, keeping a close eye on the caramel, occasionally brushing the side of the pot with water to prevent scorching. You neglected your station to get behind him and wrap your arms around his waist.

Barbatos chuckled. “Did you finish cutting out the dough?”

“I got distracted by how cute you look when you’re in the kitchen. I know I can’t steal you away from Diavolo forever, so just let me have this,” you spoke softly against his shoulder.

“I’m cute? You are the only one I’d let say that.”

“You’re so cute – adorable, even.”

You inched closer to him, and without warning, you bit his neck – just above his collar. Knowing that Barbatos may get upset if you marked him, your teeth barely grazed his skin, but the sensation of your hot breath was enough to make him shiver slightly in your arms. It was a shame how much skin he had covered; there were only so many places you could tease him directly.

“Do you find me so irresistible that you intend to gobble me up?” he asked playfully. His face took on a light shade of pink, yet he still had the sense to stir the cream and butter into the caramel, creating a beautiful silky consistency. You watched him work for a minute.

“If I said yes?”

“I would welcome it – that is, I want it just as much as you do.” You felt his tail wrap around your ankle teasingly. “But I beg that you wait until after we’ve finished baking.”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” you cooed into his ear, “but how could I possibly deny your begging?”

“I’ll make it worth the wait. You have my word.” He lifted the pot off the burner, and you took that as your cue to let him go. He turned around, expecting to need to coax you into finishing cutting out the cookies. Slightly surprised, he questioned you: “oh, you did finish cutting out the dough, then? I thought you said you got distracted.”

“I wouldn’t disappoint my favorite man.” However, telling him that you had finished your task and just wanted to hold him didn’t sound as sweet as telling him he was distractingly cute. “You know, that look of surprise on your face is cute, too.”

Before he could respond, the oven dinged, signaling that it had finished preheating. Barbatos poured the caramel into a bowl to cool while you placed the sheet of cookies in the oven. He cleared his throat. “I suppose if you would like, I could indulge you for a few minutes now – just while the cookies bake.”

“So generous.” You pulled him into you, hands quick to unbutton his shirt.

Simeon

If one more demon brother bothered you today, you were going to set something – or someone – on fire. Luckily, Simeon was happy to host you for the afternoon; he didn’t even scold you about making threats of arson.

In the quiet peace that Simeon’s room held, your reading was interrupted by Simeon stretching at his desk – by no fault of his own, really. The lines of his body were so pretty. Maybe you still had some aggression in you that fed your urge to sneak up on him as he continued to write.

Simeon had barely acknowledged your proximity when you leaned down and bit him just above his collar. You heard a sharp inhale leave him, but the way he craned his neck away from you, giving you better access, indicated that he didn’t have any protests. He stopped writing, and you heard his pen drop on the desk. You took the opportunity to kiss down his shoulder and leave a mark there, too. Finally, you were able to pull a soft moan from his lips – stifled as it was.

“H-hey.” His voice was more complaisant than objecting. “Is this supposed to be my reward for letting you hide out in my room?”

“No. You were just too pretty to resist.” You kissed the bite mark on his shoulder, then the one on his neck, before you whispered in his ear, “would you like a proper reward?”

Simeon mulled the words over. “Perhaps.”

You left Purgatory Hall a few hours later, sneaking out without anyone noticing. Simeon returned to writing shortly after. He stayed preoccupied until Luke called him in for dinner.

When Simeon joined Luke and Solomon at the table, he had forgotten all about his bite marks. Luke stared at him, horrified. “Simeon! What happened to you?”

The realization hit Simeon like a cement block. Internally, he freaked out, grasping for anything while Solomon sat there, amused, and refusing any assistance. What Simeon landed on was a disgrace to him as an author: he accidentally turned you into a vampire with a spell while studying. You were so thirsty, and he didn’t know how to reverse the spell right away, so he let you drink some of his blood.

With his clumsy lie settled, Simeon quickly sent you a text to warn you about his story, begging you to go along with it.

MC: Wow. Why’d you have to do me dirty like that? Simeon: Do you want to explain to Luke why you really gave me a hickey? MC: Two. But no. Good luck!

Immediately after, you got a text from Luke, asking how you could bite poor Simeon. You apologized. Luckily, Luke forgave you; it was an accident, after all, but he asked you to be more careful next time. You were definitely going to be more careful.

“Mind telling me what spell you used there, Simeon?” Solomon asked, holding back a snicker. “Maybe I should try it out.”

“Solomon, no!” Luke protested. “You can’t just turn MC into a vampire.”

“Calm down, Luke. I always get consent first.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

“It matters quite a lot,” Solomon smirked. Simeon had enough and kicked Solomon under the table with a look on his face that a parent might give an older sibling who can’t hold their tongue.

When Raphael walked into the dining room, Simeon hoped he would be spared from his torment. He wasn’t.

“Where’d you get a hickey from, Simeon?” Raphael asked nonchalantly.

“MC bit him,” Luke explained on Simeon’s behalf as Simeon seemed reluctant to speak.

“Oh, they got to you too?”

“What?” The word fell from the other three in varying degrees of shock.

Raphael shrugged. “What?”

The texts came rolling in again.

Luke: Why did you drink from both Simeon and Raphael?

Shit. You had to think fast.

MC: I didn’t want to take too much blood from either one, so I tried to take a small amount from both of them. I’m so, so sorry. Luke: Oh. I guess that was nice of you. But please don’t do any more vampire spells, okay?

Solomon also sent you a text: Want to suck my blood too, MC? 🖤

Before you could think of an appropriate response to Solomon’s flirting, a new message from Simeon popped up. This was more urgent than Solomon’s shamelessness.

Simeon: “I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll remember to cover up – unless you wish to bite me somewhere less conspicuous, that is. Still, somehow, I’m glad you were the one who bit me this time. I can’t imagine how furious Luke would be at me if I was the one to bite you. He’s quite overprotective, isn’t he? However, I think I owe you. A mark for a mark. Perhaps I should throw in an extra one on Raphael’s behalf. Doesn’t that sound fair?”

You were in for it now.

Solomon

Mammon had told you that Asmo gave Solomon a hickey earlier that day. You didn’t know where Mammon was getting his information, but that did sound like something Asmo would do. Still, it made you a little jealous – not because Asmo had done that, but because you wanted to give Solomon a hickey too.

It was fortunate, then, that you had a study session with Solomon planned today. It was less fortunate for your grades and magical abilities that the only thing you had been studying since you showed up in Solomon’s room was his neck. That damn turtleneck wasn’t revealing anything.

Solomon noticed you had been watching him more intensely than usual. It was flattering, but you weren’t making any moves on him, and he was feeling impatient. “Is there something wrong? You keep staring at me.”

“Could you sit down for a minute?” you asked him.

Finally, he thought optimistically. Solomon took a seat on his couch. You walked over to him and hooked a finger under his collar, slowly pulling it down. Nothing. You checked the other side. Still nothing. Heat rose in Solomon’s cheeks.

“MC, what are you doing?”

“Quiet,” you hushed him and checked the other side of his neck again, pulling his collar down a bit lower than before. Where was it? It was a weird thing for Mammon to lie about, but perhaps he was just mistaken. Still, even if Asmo hadn’t gotten to Solomon’s neck recently, you figured it would be a waste to just leave him unscathed. You might as well use your blank canvas.

You leaned down and bit his neck, sucking his skin – trying to mark him as yours. He whimpered at the sudden pain.

When you finally pulled away and inspected the pretty red mark on him, you noticed how flustered his face was.

“How did you expect me to stay quiet while you did something like that?” Solomon ran his fingers over the mark and accompanying teeth indents. “I don’t mind, but what’s gotten into you?”

“Mammon told me that Asmo gave you a hickey. I had to check, but I guess he was wrong. When I thought about Asmo getting to mark you,” you paused, “well, I wanted to mark you too.”

“Oh, he’s not wrong. Asmo did leave me with a hickey. I got rid of it with magic earlier today.” He laughed. “Honestly, MC. If I knew you were the jealous, possessive type, I would have let Asmo play around with me a bit more.”

“I’m not jealous per se. I just wanted to leave my mark on you.”

“You have.” He took your hand sweetly and added, “but I’ll make sure not to heal yours with magic. It’s a shame that you left it below my collar, though. I’d like to show off. Maybe you could leave a few more.”

Thirteen

When Thirteen invited you to her cave, you didn’t expect to find her distracted by her newest trap. The last time she invited you over, she greeted you at the entrance and guided you around. Maybe you had gotten your hopes up too much. It wasn’t as if she promised to give you her undivided attention.

“Work, you little fucker,” she cursed under her breath at the trap on her lap as she unscrewed the back panel yet again.

Your shoulders slumped, and you pouted slightly. This might take a while, you realized. Thirteen wasn’t particularly aggressive around you, but you could feel her tension in the room. Between that and your mounting boredom, you stood up.

“I’m going to take a walk,” you informed her. “You seem a bit busy.”

Shit. That sounded passive aggressive. Maybe you meant to be. She was the one who invited you over. It was reasonable to be a bit irritated. Regardless, it was effective. Your words hit her, and Thirteen almost dropped the tools in her hands – tightening her grip just before the pliers and screwdriver slipped from her grasp. She set her tools and her latest trap on the table quickly before standing up.

“Baby, no, wait. Come here.” Thirteen opened her arms wide for a hug, wanting you to come back into her embrace. You conceded, and once you were close enough, she pulled you against her body. “Sorry. I should have finished this before you showed up. I just had some last-minute issues, and I was in the zone. But he can wait. I promise.”

You buried your face in Thirteen’s neck. How was it possible for a reaper living in a cave to smell so sweet? You bit her softly as revenge for her neglect. She let out a startled yelp, but she didn’t stop holding you until you released her skin. Her breath was shaky, and her face was pink when she asked, “what was that for?”

“Punishment,” you admitted. “Is that okay?”

Thirteen laughed and pulled you backwards in the direction of her bed. Despite the fact that she was the one walking backwards, you nearly tumbled over her when she plopped down. You barely stopped yourself by putting your knee at the edge of her bed – right between her legs. She met your gaze when you stared down at her.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Her pupils dilated, and the faint blush still sat on her cheeks. “Punish me more.”

Mephistopheles

“Why are you in the RAD Newspaper Club room again? I don’t remember inviting a foolish human to distract me today.” Mephisto sighed and scanned over a draft of an article on the new exhibit at the botanical garden. Technically, he had invited you to visit him earlier in the week “if you wanted to see how much effort goes into [his] work,” but he had clearly forgotten in his resolution to being a grump today. “You know little about the Devildom, and I don’t require your assistance. So, I invite you to get out.”

Sometimes his commitment to being a dick was tiring – especially when you were fully aware that he held some strong, affectionate feelings for you underneath it. Hell, he had glanced in your direction three times already, and they were not glances that suggested he wanted you to leave. If he wanted to play his little games, you could at least chastise him a bit – well, a bite.

“Alright, I’ll go, but first,” you left him in anticipation as you walked around his desk and leaned down behind him. You sank your teeth into the side of his neck, earning an adorably pained groan. Served him right.

As soon as you let go, Mephisto shot up from his chair. That was your cue to run. You rushed out of the room and hurried down the hall before he could finish telling you to “get back here this instant.”

You ran, stupidly glancing back just in time to bump into something solid. When you turned back to where you should have been looking, you were met with Lucifer’s confused face.

“Why are you running in the hall? What’s gotten into you? Are you alright?” Lucifer held you firmly in place by the shoulders. He was searching your eyes with concern. It was sweet of him to be worried, but you didn’t have time to stand around being worried over when the click of Mephisto’s heels was quickly approaching. He wasn’t running – but those long legs hastened his pace. He was like Michael Myers with a bit more urgency. “MC. What is it? Answer me.”

Lucifer’s concern had stalled you enough for Mephisto to catch up. He grabbed you by the back of the collar and pulled you out of Lucifer’s grasp.

“Wait,” Lucifer demanded. “What are you doing?"

“I’m taking this,” Mephisto informed him without turning around as he dragged you in the opposite direction. “It’s mine.”

Lucifer felt a portion of his brain die off. He swiftly turned on his feet and walked away. He was not dealing with this today.

“Can you let me go?” you asked Mephisto while squirming in his grip.

“If you don’t come willingly, I’ll throw you over my shoulder.”

“Are you even that strong?”

Mephisto’s eyes widened as if you had insulted him. You might as well have called him a weakling. He took your words as a challenge and pulled you into the nearest empty classroom. Once inside, he locked the door and held you close with one hand on the back of your head and the other on your back. Before you could register what happened, Mephisto had dropped you to the ground, landing over you, straddling your hips. His hands had protected your head and back from harsh contact with the floor.

“Ow. That still hurt my butt, you know?” You stared up at him. It actually didn’t hurt that much, but you wanted to complain.

“I’ll kiss it better later if you need me to, you big baby.” Mephisto sighed and pinned your hands to the side. “Strong enough for you?”

You made a half-hearted attempt to struggle. “Point taken; now you can get off.”

“Oh, no, I can’t.” Mephisto let you go with a smirk. He loosened his tie and started to unbutton his shirt. “We need to finish what you started, foolish human.”

(Mammon, Satan, Beelzebub, Diavolo, Raphael version)

(Lucifer, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Belphegor version)

#barbatos #simeon #solomon #thirteen #mephistopheles #gn!mc #obey me short fic #not me struggling to figure out how I want to format texts in this...#hoping to feed the Mephisto stans with this one for real though #and the Barbatos Simeon Solomon and Thirteen lovers too #obey me #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me mephistopheles

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anarcoqueer1994 · 1 month

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Never Have I Ever (Steddie Ficlet)

The older teens—Jonathan, Argyle, Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Eddie,-- had been hanging out drinking at Steve’s house. No one can remember whose idea it was, but they ended up playing “Never Have I Ever” with who ever being the one who has done it having to take a drink. It was fun, mostly dumb ones, like “Never have I ever been out of Indiana (excluding the Upside-Down) or “Never have I ever smoked weed.” It was one of Robin’s though, that nearly gave Eddie a heart attack.

She looked around the table, smirking, half tipsy. “Never have I ever slept with a guy.” She laughed. Eddie thought nothing of it. He figured she used this one to get as many people at the table to drink as possible. Eddie wasn’t surprised when Jonathan, Argyle (they are dating now, he thinks), and Nancy take a drink with him. What nearly causes him to choke on his own beer is seeing Steve also pick up his glass and take a sip.

His shock causes him to cough up his drink, and though his reaction may have been the most dramatic, but other than Robin, everyone else looked confused too. Steve was oblivious to the looks around the table though, only drunkenly turning to Robin saying “That’s not fair, dude. You knew you would be the only one not to drink.” He playfully complains.

Eddie clears his throat, being the one to ask the question everyone was wondering. “Harrington, you slept with a guy?”

Steve looks around, first confused with the reaction, slowly realizing that everyone was looking at him. They weren’t judgmental, of course, just surprised. He looks awkwardly at Robin who just shrugs her shoulders, before he says. “Oops I guess I forgot to tell you guys. Kind of figured you all knew since we are all…you know…queer. “

Robin laughs at the absurdness of his statement. “Aww Steve, they thought you were our token straight.” She sticks out her tongue.

Eddie doesn’t know why but he kind of feels…jealous. When he thought Steve was straight, it was easy for him to just accept that Steve in unattainable, that he doesn’t like guys. But knowing he does…changes things. Steve was into dudes, and he is a dude. But now he feels like Steve is unattainable in a new way…he is out of his league. Steve can’t want Eddie, no matter how big of a stupid crush he has on him. That hurt more. He can’t explain why he said what he said next, maybe he is a masochist. But his mouth works faster than his brain. “Who?”

“What?” Steve scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. Eddie hates that this makes him more attractive.

He wishes he could pull the word back in, he wishes it would have stayed trapped against his teeth, but it didn’t so he has to go with it. “Um…I mean who was the lucky guy that slept with King Steve?” He tries play it off as a joke, like he’s teasing but honestly part of him wants to know what Steve’s type is.

“Oh, um a few guys, I guess. The first one was Tommy. Before Nance and I dated, I used to hook up with Tommy and Carol sometimes. Most of the time it was the three of us, but I have been with both of them separately.” Steve goes red, realizing all the attention is on him now.

“You were like a …throuple with Tommy and Carol?” Nancy asks in disbelief.

“No, nothing like that! What we did was just for fun. Those two were their own thing. “ He put his increasingly flushed face in his hands before continuing. “Let’s…uh move on from this embarrassing can of worms Robin has opened.

Everyone nods, but Eddie’s big mouth strikes again. “You said there was a few…”

“Eds, you really wanna know all the guys I slept with?” Steve raises his eyebrow, embarrassment going to amusement. He shoots Eddie a smirk before adding. “Why? You wanna be on that list?” He winks.

Shit. Eddie was too pushy. He doesn’t need to know. His face turns red. “Uh no. I’m sorry, I’m just being nosy. I’m sorry.” He repeats without his usual confidence. He continues to ramble apologies.

“Eddie…” Steve interrupts. “I’m just messing with you, man. It’s fine. I don’t have secrets with you guys. There were a few random hooks ups from the gay bar Robin, and I go to in Indianapolis, and um my senior year, I hooked up with one of the guys one the swim team. See no big secrets.” He laughs.

The tension Eddie was feeling dissipates with the sound of Steve’s laugh. Steve doesn’t care…Eddie is reading too much into this. “No big secrets.” He parrots back. And with that, they were back to the game, no one bringing up Steve’s “come out,” No mention of Eddie’s weird reaction, nothing that should make him nervous. But part of him swears he notices Steve staring him down more as the night goes on.

They end up all watching a movie, everyone passing out in the living room, half tipsy, and just feeling safe. Robin and Nancy are cuddled together on the couch while Jonathan and Argyle are tangled together on the love seat. Eddie had been on the chair and Steve was on the third cushion of the couch. They had been the only two still awake, neither very comfortable where they are. When the movie comes to an end, Steve whispers, “Eds…come on man. Let’s go upstairs.”

“up..stairs?” Eddie stutters out like some pathetic 13-year-old kid with a first crush. But he couldn’t help it. Was Steve asking his to go to bed with him? Maybe he wasn’t crazy. Maybe Steve was flirting with him earlier. Maybe he was staring.

Eddie watches as Steve stands up, walks closer and holds out his hand, Eddie instinctively responds, taking the other man’s hand, letting him pull him up. “Yea, upstairs. That chair is not comfortable.”

“No, its not.” Eddie agrees as they head for the steps, still hand in hand. When they get to the top of the stairs though, Steve lets go. He starts leading Eddie to the opposite end of the hallway from his bedroom. When they stop in front of the door at the end, Eddie understands. He feels his heart drop as Steve opens the door to the guest room. “Finally have an excuse to use this thing.” He softly laughs, before turning away, saying over his shoulder “Night, Eds. Let me know if you need anything.”

All Eddie can do is nod lamely, as he steps into his room for the night. He closes the door before collapsing on the bed. His brain is on an emotional roller coaster. He feels stupid thinking that Steve Harrington, queer or not, would be into him. Before he can spiral into self-deprivation, he is pulled back to reality by a knock on the door.

When he opens it, there is Steve Harrington, now clad only in the tiny red shorts he sleeps in. It takes every thing in him to keep his brain from short circuiting. “Steve? What’s up?” He hopes he sounds casual.

“Eddie, why did you react that way earlier when you found out I like guys?” Steve cuts to the chase.

“I..I told you man, just surprised.” He tells a half lie.

“I know, I know. You said that but why did you want to know who?” Steve continues, gears obvious turning in his, trying make the connections he thinks he sees.

“I don’t know.” Eddie looks down at his own feet. Looking at Steve feels dangerous right now, Like Steve could see right through him.”

“Eds? You don’t know?” Steve asks skeptically.

“Yea I don’t know. I just asked. Making conversation, man” Eddie deflects, still looking down.

“I don’t believe you.” Steve says back plainly. Eddie was about to protest, insist Steve was wrong. But before he can, he feels a gentle hand under his chin, pushing his head upwards, so Steve can meet his eyes. He’s frozen as Steve smirks whispering, “I think you wanted to be on that list too.”

Eddie can feel his cheeks going red. Without thinking he replies, “I want to be the end of that list.” As soon as the words leave him mouth, he wishes he could pull them back in. “Oh god, I am so sorry. I don’t expect you to just settle with me or anything. I’m sure you have better.’

“No Eddie. I wouldn’t be settling.” He lets out a sign. “ I should have phrased this better. Eddie, I want you. And not just for sex. Like don’t get me wrong, that’s part of it. You’re so fucking hot. But you are so funny and smart and dorky and such a good friend. I’ve been into you for so long. So um, what do you think?” All confidence and charismatic attitude is gone.

“You like me?” Eddie sputters out.

“Oh my god! Yes, Eds. I do. I like you. Honestly, I think I love you and I don’t know how else to spell it out to you. I just don’t get it, Eds? What more…” Steve is cut off by the soft lips pressed again his. It takes him a moment to realize Eddie is kissing him but when he does, he finds himself kissing back. His hands tangle in Eddie’s hair while Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s waist.

When they finally pull apart, Eddie asks “So you wanna add me to that list?

“Yea, I do. Eventually. But for tonight I just want to cuddle with me…boyfriend?” He asks, worried he jumped the gun.

“Yea…I want to cuddle with my boyfriend, too.” He smiles, pulling Steve into the guestroom, closing the door behind them.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #ficlet #steddie fanfic #past stommy #Past Starol #Is starol a thing? Shouldn't be #A dumb little ficlet to appease the head goblins #Did not proofread #sorry #stranger things #steve x eddie

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boba-beom · 8 months

Text

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ well hidden | KANG TAEHYUN NSFW

・❥・ pairing: taehyun x noona!reader

・❥・ genre: tiny fluff, pure smut | one shot

・❥・wc: 2.6k

・❥・ warning(s): established relationship, reader is down bad for taehyun lmao, taehyun and his noona kink, reader is older than tyun, public(?) scene, dom!taehyun, pet names (sweet cheeks, baby, good girl, my noona, babe), taehyun gets called big boy 🤭, exhibitionism kink, heavy petting, praise & degradation 🤭, oral (both receiving), he's a lil rough with throat fucking, fingering (f receiving), taehyun ‘mean’ tease, unprotected sex (always stay safe guys), multiple orgasms, surprise breeding kink oop, lowercase intended, not proofread

・❥・ a/n: I think this is my first official full taehyun smut, so enjoy because this is the first of many noona!reader thoughts I have omg

・❥・ summary: going on a vacation with your smoking hot boyfriend can be relaxing, but asks if you're down to have more fun on an empty beach. or so you think.

it's late noon, the sky turning a soft amber shade in the sky, clouds entertaining your eyes, and though the sun may be beginning to set, you and taehyun still decide to soak up the last few minutes of the sun.

you shuffle on your beach towel from your back to lay on your front, tilting your shades lower on your nose to watch your hot boyfriend walk towards you from the ocean. his hair hangs wet over his forehead with droplets falling onto his broad shoulders and down his muscly chest, trailing down his abs and to the band of his swim shorts until he approaches you with a mischievous expression across his face.

"still checking me out even though we've been dating for god knows how long now?" he picks up a towel beside up and ruffles it against his hair, triggering the pulse between your thighs because he just looks that good, and throws it over to hang on his shoulder.

"it's called admiring, baby." you chuckle.

he sits beside you, observing the way your cleavage is on display and pressed against the beach blanket beneath you, just for him to see on this majorly sparse beach. you had an inkling that your boyfriend had something in mind, he always did, and you were just waiting for him to tell you what he's been thinking about.

the moment taehyun's fingers lightly skim down your back, tracing your spine as you let out a comforting hum. your eyes close as your breath picks up in the tiniest bit and as soon as his fingers reach the string on your bikini bottom you feel him tug on it ever so slightly. you feel him closer in proximity despite having your eyes shut, sensing his warmth radiating from his body.

"how about we have some fun, hm noona?" he whispers erotically in your ear before laying kiss from your jaw and down the back of your neck until he places both of his hands on your hips, lightly squeezing your sides and beginning to massage the area as you let out another hum, borderline moan.

"taehyun, someone could see us though." you whine, as if you cared that much, but for the sake of decency you wanted to be sure it was just the two of you.

"c'mon, why would it matter? I know you're into that anyway." he chuckles as he resumes kissing and nipping at your neck. he groans against your skin as he turns you onto your back and he situates himself between your legs, feeling his semi-erection against your thigh.

"but what if-"

"noona, do you want me to fuck you or no?" he holds your chin to look up at him, his grip a little too tight but you loved it.

nodding your head at him with your doe eyes as you look up, he tightens his grip a little more as you whine.

"words, yn, I need to hear it from you."

"taehyun, baby, please use me. fuck me, use me all you like. I want you so bad." he smirks in satisfaction after hearing your needy whines, letting go of his hold on your chin before returning with his trail of kisses.

this time it felt like your skin was gradually getting a little hot after each kiss, burning up after each one. he reaches one of his hands up to massage one boob and the other occupied by his tongue dragging along the hem of your bikini.

his hot trail of spoiling you with his love continued until his face reached your navel, watching you starting to heave out of sensitivity. taehyun didn't hesitate to pull on the string of your bikini bottom until it had completely untied, leaving the loose material over your clothed core.

"you're always such a good girl for me, aren't you?" his voice lower than before, and you reply with an excessive nod. "my pretty noona wants to get fucked on this beach so bad, bet you want someone to watch me fuck you until your legs are shaking non-stop."

you feel yourself clench around nothing, wanting his hand to take away the loose material covering the area where you were desperate for him to touch you.

"you know I can be good for you, just please touch me." you beg, grazing your hand along his broad shoulders and up to rest by his neck, fingers occasionally playing with the beaded necklace, knowing it's one of his sensitive areas.

the pulse in your ears were almost deafening if it wasn't for the gentle waves alternating between washing up closer to you and pulling back. to your luck, he pulled away your bikini bottoms, teasingly gliding his middle finger from your clit down to your leaking hole.

"I can't wait to taste you," he groans from the slick gathering between his fingers and separating his digits to find a thin string of your arousal hanging in between.

"do it then." you look down at him as he raises a brow, amused at your tone.

taehyun gets comfortable between your legs, thighs over his shoulders and threading his arms around your legs with his hands resting on your inner thighs. you prop yourself on your elbows to watch his head dip between your legs, knowing just how wet you've become just from his simple touches.

you anticipate his tongue as your eyes steady at the back of his pale-coloured, damp hair, but instead you feel a cool breeze. the breeze around you wasn't as strong as the chill you feel against your core, until you realise taehyun's blowing over your wet cunt.

you whine, squirming with the littlest movement possible until you feel him dip his tongue between your drenched folds and sliding up to lap up at your clit. your chest heaves heavily above him, having your hands grope your boobs through your bikini top and taehyun lowers himself so he could look up at you. but the change in angle only came to aid in your pleasure once he enters his tongue into your cunt, his nose bumping against your clit.

taehyun loves when your hands roam around your body. he watches the way the nylon material of your bathing suit wrinkles as you squeeze your boobs.

"untie it, I wanna see all of you." he lift his head higher, placing his lips against your inner thigh thinking he would kiss the area, but he bites and sucks a couple of times before licking them after.

if there's one thing you knew about your boyfriend, it was that he was obsessed with you. he's more obsessed over the fact that you're older than him. something about him pleasing an older woman boosts his ego and makes his head fuzzy.

after you untie your top piece, he reaches up to set them aside, next to your undone bikini bottoms. he loves seeing you bare just for him; it has his dick hardening against the beach blanket knowing that he wants to shove his cock inside you and hear you scream.

"babyy, come fuck me good." you hold eye contact with his lustful gaze, taking in the way you're playing with your boobs and rolling your hard nipples between your fingers.

there was no point in making you wait when that's exactly what he was planning to do. rail you on an empty beach while the sun sets.

"you're such a whore for me, noona." you pulse again from his harsh nickname, but you know you are. only for him. always for him.

you stay in your position, elbows hurting from digging into the sand and not realising how far back you were squirming while your boyfriend was working his tongue on you. you scan down taehyun's body again, from his hazy eyes looking down at you, his lips glistening from your wet cunt and his saliva, his chest sheen from a light layer of sweat, his core engaging while me moves over your chest, and his bulge begging to come out of his swim shorts— the material clinging on to the outline of his erection.

"suck it. then I'll fuck you so good until someone hears you. maybe I won't stop and they can watch me treat my noona so well." his voice was raspier and he lets out a light gasp once you pull the band of his swim shorts down, watching his rock hard cock fling up and hit his abdomen.

the tip was glistening from beads of precum gathered at the top before leaking to the underside and about to drip until you stick out your tongue and catching the salty bead, kitten licking the mushroom tip while hearing your boyfriend's breath shaking in the smallest way.

"fuck, noona. wanna fuck your throat so bad." he groans, a hand on his hip and the other guiding your head lower onto his cock.

you whine as he slips more of himself past your lips, his length filling your mouth and the head touching your uvula and causing you to gag.

"come on, don't you want to be fucked like a slut?" he grits his teeth as he experiments a couple of shallow thrusts into your mouth, nothing but noises with your mouth full of cock. "sorry, I didn't hear you?" he snickers.

you grab onto the top of his thigh, clawing onto his skin with your freshly manicured soft gel nails, grazing his skin and leaving behind pinkish lines on his tanned leg.

your mouth is just so wet and warm, engulfed around his length as your tongue sweeps side to side on the underside of his cock. taehyun loves it. he loves that his noona has her mouth full of his cock, whimpering around and sending vibrations down his length.

"mmh, yeah that's my sweet girl, hollow your cheeks." he looks down at you, watching you tightly shut your eyes as you hollow in your cheeks, making him moan from the suction but not yet nearing his orgasm.

you concentrate on your breathing through your nose, as you work on his dick, saliva building up and making a mess around your lips and down your chin. you were going at your own pace until you felt a pair of hands holding your head still, opening your eyes and watching taehyun slip his dick out between your puffy lips.

"I think my noona deserves a good fuck, what'cha think sweet cheeks?" your chest heaves lightly, mouth still slightly open and he takes ahold of his shaft, tapping the tip of his head against your cheek.

"wan' you to fuck me so so good baby." you plead with your shaky tone, gradually opening your legs as he stands up before kneeling between you.

"you just can't keep your legs closed huh?" he kisses your knee while his other hand continues to jerk himself a little more, "but thanks for making it easier for me babe."

he leans down, pressing his tip against your sopping core and doesn't pause before thrusting all the way in, filling you up with the girth of his length hugged by your gummy walls. a soft moan leaves your lips, throwing your head back against the sand and your hands back to playing with your boobs, because you know he loves it when you do that.

one of taehyun's hands are planted on your waist and he leans on his other arm beside your head, holding himself up as his hips snap at a steady but fast pace.

"oh my god, baby, yes, ugh— right there." you whine, feeling his one hand push one of your legs closer to your chest and hitting you at a delicious angle.

"mhm, that's right noona, scream for me." he pants against your jaw, quiet grunts leaving his throat before kissing that sweet spot just below your ear.

you loved the feeling of taehyun fucking you out in the open, and the thought of someone possibly seeing you has you clenching tightly around him, your stomach feeling tighter by the second.

"taehyun, I'm gonna— oh fuck— I'm coming—" you almost scream against his ear, feeling his lips form a smile against your skin, but his hips never stopped.

"hang on a little longer noona, I'm almost close. you can do that for me right?" he whispers against your cheek, voice breathy as his hand gropes your boobs, playing with your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

although you feel your second high coming and overstimulation building up the sensitivity, you nod your head and let taehyun fuck your abused pussy until he cums.

your boyfriend pulls out slowly, hearing you whine from the loss inside you, but he turns you around, "on fours for me." he grabs a handful of your ass, before smacking it and hearing you almost let out a cry. it wasn't long until he plunged into your cunt again, going twice as fast and just as hard you feel your boobs jiggling.

"ah shit, tae- taehyun, too much baby. I'm gonna cum again." you cry out, your fingers curled and gripping tightly onto the frayed edges of the blanket.

taehyun kiss behind your neck again, nipping and trapping your skin between his teeth until his lips travel to your shoulders and the middle of your back. you feel tingly from the sensation thinking you could hold out a little while longer, but you feel his hand come around and circling his two fingers over your clit in a speed that was capable of bringing you over the edge.

in all honesty, he loved that you were breaking apart because of his dick. because of him.

your core felt like it was tightening up again, clenching around him but in sync with his dick twitching against your walls and his airy moans behind you.

"god noona, you feel so good. wanna fill you up, gonna carry my babies, yeah?" he usually speak through gritted teeth when he's close, but he lets himself moan just for you to hear. after all, he knows how much of a whore you are for him being vocal.

"yes baby, fill me up. gimme your big load big boy— ah—." you moan at a higher pitch, feeling your second wave of orgasm washing over you as you feel your thighs shudder beneath you.

your boyfriend lets out his staccato moans as his thick load shoots against your walls, slightly bucking his hips with every release. his head slightly going hazy from the grip your pussy still has around him, but he tries to steady his breath as he unloads his last few spurts of cum into your full cunt.

"shit baby," he catches his breath, "let me stay inside you for a little while, gonna make sure we get a baby out of this."

you chuckle breathlessly under him, his hands roaming around your hips and caressing you so lovingly. littering your bare back in wet kisses and playfully nipping some place.

"what if I don't get pregnant from this tae?" you turn your head to look up at him, watching him plant a kiss to your temple.

"then I'm gonna have to fuck you more... several rounds until we successfully have a baby in your tummy." his hand runs down your torso and cradles your lower stomach as he thinks about how beautiful and round your stomach would be one day, carrying his child. "but I'm gonna make you my wife first."

you giggle at his comment, and then some more from his ticklish kisses as he whispers more about how excited he is to start his life with you.

though, a pair of eyes were fixed on your bare backs from a distance, the guy's brows lightly scrunched and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as two dimples appear prominent, one on either cheek.

he steadies his breath as he looks down at his spent dick, cum on his lower abdomen and his fist which is slowing down his motions.

"fuck." he whispers under his breath.

・❥・ taglist: @ahnneyong @prodsh00ky @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @ttyunz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @vatterie @hyuntaena @ja4hyvn @yunkiwii @aprilisque @bb-eilish @ericyjun @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @kyrkitten @day6andetcetera @dainsleif-when-playable @txt-yaomi @robin-obsessed

・❥・for this fic: @gbgbsoob @tyunkus @ggwnitie

#k-labels #kflixnet #taehyun smut #taehyun x fem reader #txt smut #taehyun hard hours #taehyun imagines #taehyun scenarios #txt x fem reader #txt hard hours #txt imagines #txt scenarios #smiles entering her taehyun brainrot #expect the next few posts to be about taehyun #for who knows how long #mdni #smiles hard hours

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writefightandflightclub · 3 months

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here.

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it.

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!).

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table.

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.”

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering.

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it.

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying.

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height.

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment.

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head.

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar.

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself.

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you.

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems.

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned.

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift.

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies.

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two.

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear.

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!”

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour.

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill.

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger.

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all.

Will be hard.

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you.

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you.

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving.

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide.

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual.

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow.

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.”

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too.

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done.

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target.

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man.

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening.

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted.

You are done waiting.

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention.

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours.

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully.

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table.

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself.

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie.

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched.

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.”

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament.

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning.

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed.

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.”

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?”

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation.

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks.

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.”

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets.

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend.

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door.

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit.

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances.

There is a beat.

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts.

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him.

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally.

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz.

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you.

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently.

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them.

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to.

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once.

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him.

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is.

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion.

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.”

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all.

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger.

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.”

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now.

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way.

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go.

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again.

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose.

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him.

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?”

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does.

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you.

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it.

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it.

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side.

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical.

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again?

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.”

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments.

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good.

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks.

“I see you, baby.”

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him.

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark.

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words.

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand.

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth.

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in.

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you.

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?”

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender.

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?”

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are.

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you.

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end.

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could.

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms.

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer.

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm. You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners.

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now.

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe.

“I’m just gonna leave,” he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying.

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow.

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at.

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words.

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.”

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are.

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do.

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly.

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man.

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion.

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him.

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that.

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet.

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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