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gimmethatagustd · 2 months

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wanna stream a porno | kth

At this point, attempting to deny that you have feelings for Taehyung is laughable. Even his subscribers can sense the chemistry between the two of you.

○ Pairing: Dom!Taehyung x Sub!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Frenemies to lovers, sex work, fluff (?), smut

○ Word Count: 4,846

○ Warnings: Sex work (cam), MC uses they/them pronouns, Tae refers to MC as bunny and bun - aka rope bunny which is the term for the person being tied up in a shibari scene, bdsm, bondage, impact play, spanking, use of degrading language - that isn't actually meant to be mean, voyeurism, exhibition kink, Tae makes MC call him daddy so they won't dox him lmfao but it's not a kink - he's doing it as a joke to tease MC, blow job, vaginal fingering, sex toys, crying during sex, subspace/dropping, unprotected vaginal sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, implied aftercare

○ Notes: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, BESTIES 🫦 I hope you enjoy the final installment of The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles! Photographer Tae will be missed 💔 I definitely did not proofread this, so abandon all hope, ye who enter! My brain is literally broken.

○ Post Date: February 14, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? One Of The Girls (Sped Up) - The Weeknd, JENNIE, Lily-Rose Depp

The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles (mini-series) Masterlist

“Too tight?” Taehyung murmurs against the curve of your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

It’s embarrassing how your body reacts to the sound of his low, velvety voice. You'd snorted when Taehyung first told you that people on the internet paid money to listen to his dirty talk and watch him jerk off. There was no fucking way; he had to be lying. You’d been sure of it.

But now…

Taehyung reaches around your body and tugs on the rope he’s just tied your wrists with. It looks rough, black, and twisted but smooth as it rubs against your skin when you move.

You shiver and shake your head, forgetting what you’d discussed earlier in the day until it’s too late. The smack to your ass stings, and you bite your bottom lip to keep from making any sound.

“What did I tell you, bun?” Taehyung asks softly, running his palm across the skin he just smacked. He squeezes your asscheek and jiggles it before removing his hand.

“I have to use my words,” you speak up like he told you to, even though your voice is hoarse with desire and nervousness. Because, fuck, are you nervous.

“Mhmm…” Taehyung hums in agreement, though he sounds distracted.

You can’t see him from where you kneel on the floor in his bedroom, but you can feel it when he gets up. If you wanted to, you could twist around to face him. It would be difficult, though, with how much of your body is tied up.

Taehyung spent at least twenty minutes carefully weaving intricate patterns against your naked skin, crossing the rope in what almost looks like a star formation across your back that wraps around to the front of your body, keeping your arms tied to your sides and your hands bound in front of you. The rope cages your chest like a harness and extends down to wrap around your legs, forcing you into a kneeling position and making you unable to straighten your legs.

It took you three weeks of practicing before Taehyung could fully tie you up without you going into a panic attack.

“It’s not too tight,” you announce after clearing your throat.

You watch as Taehyung circles your body until he stands in front of you. He reaches out to flick his middle finger against the underside of your chin, prompting you to tilt your head back to look up at him.

“My little rope bunny looks so pretty, all tied up for me,” Taehyung says with a sparkling grin that makes your whole body flush with heat.

“I want to tell you off so badly right now,” you hiss through gritted teeth. Your frustration only makes Taehyung’s grin widen.

“I bet you do. It’s a shame you can’t, but rules are rules.” Taehyung shrugs, not at all nonchalant in his mocking tone.

You close your eyes as he trails his finger down your throat and past your collarbones until he reaches one of your nipples. Usually, it would take more than a gentle brush of a fingertip against your nipple for you to feel aroused, but there’s something about being tied up that has heightened your senses. Every minor touch has your nerves sparking and fraying at the ends. Taehyung isn’t even doing anything, and you’re already wet and aching.

“Taehyung,” you do your best to sound steady and fail.

“Let me fix the cameras and figure out what I’m gonna wear, okay? I’ll be quick; I promise.”

Taehyung rearranged all the furniture in his bedroom to leave an open spot in the corner of the room where he set up cameras and photography lighting. His laptop rests on an end table nearby, the screen showing a mirrored image of you kneeling on the floor on a pale pink silk sheet, fluffy pillows surrounding you in a half-circle. It’s all very Y2K, softcore aesthetic – not what you’d expect from Taehyung. His followers are mostly young women, though, and he says he likes to play up his soft side for them.

It sounds ridiculous, but there’s something about being tied up in such a gentle environment that’s making your pussy throb.

Taehyung is quick, as he promised. He returns, shirtless and wearing a pair of black joggers to match the black rope wrapped around your body. You drag your eyes over his torso, admiring the flat plane of his abdomen and the swell of his pecs. Smooth – it’s the best word to describe Taehyung. His voice, body, and charisma when he murmurs sweet seductions in your ear are always so smooth.

When he catches you staring, Taehyung winks at you. It makes you flustered despite your desire to remain neutral, and you quickly look down to find something else to focus your attention on. In Taehyung’s hands is a long, rectangular purple box. He sets it down next to you on the floor and opens the lid.

You gasp when you see what’s inside.

“Taehyung…”

“It’s for later. Don’t worry about it,” Taehyung says softly, pressing his index finger against your parted lips to quiet you.

On instinct, you close your lips around Taehyung’s finger and suck it gently, swirling your tongue around it. Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed for a few seconds until he pulls his hand away.

“You’re such a slut.”

“Fuck you.”

You can’t help but grin when Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you. He’s an idiot, but you love it. You love him, maybe. To be determined.

Or never. Never is also fine.

“So… what the fuck is gonna happen now? I’m starting to cramp,” you complain as Taehyung messes around with his laptop.

“What?” Taehyung spins around quickly, nearly sending one of his floor lamps crashing when his elbow collides with the stand. “You’re in pain? Where? Let me loosen–”

“Oh my god, Taehyung, I’m fine. I just don’t feel like kneeling naked on the fucking floor while you dick around!”

With a snort, Taehyung turns his back on you.

“I’m just trying to take care of my little movie star, alright?”

The nickname, if that’s what you can even call it, makes your stomach flutter. It doesn’t matter that you’re trying your best to stay unaffected by Taehyung’s bullshit; Taehyung has you under his spell like he always does.

“I know what to say…” you insist with a pout, flexing your fingers. “Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for good…”

It’s elementary, but all the prep Taehyung made you do leading up to this moment showed you how important having a system is, be it a random safe word or the colors. What you don’t want to tell Taehyung is how comforting the rope is. You don’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that you like being restrained. It’s like a tight embrace, and the rope causes goosebumps to spread across your body when its silkiness rubs against your skin every time you shift positions.

Watching you over his shoulder, Taehyung calls you softly, “I’m going to start the session if that’s okay?”

You nod, adrenaline buzzing through your veins as you hear the little pings from Taehyung’s laptop, indicating that people are paying to join the livestream. It’s still shocking that Taehyung has such a large following. However, it makes sense now that he has been so interested in erotic photography and film for his projects as a university student studying art. Funny how your roommate, Hoseok, never bothered to tell you that his friend does amateur porn – though Taehyung was quick to make it clear that he has never had anyone else on his stream before you.

You’re special.

You wonder who might be sitting on the other end, paying to watch Taehyung pleasure himself every Wednesday night.

“It’s hump day,” Taehyung had said with an exasperated sigh when you’d asked why he chose Wednesdays, as if you were the stupidest person on the planet for asking such a question.

The worst part is wondering if someone watching Taehyung’s stream will recognize you. Taehyung doesn’t shy away from showing his face, but he’d offered you a mask or only to use camera angles that wouldn’t expose your identity. You’d turned down both offers, though you can’t remember why. You can’t remember much of anything, your mind going blank the moment Taehyung addresses the anonymous subscribers waiting for porn.

“Hey everyone, it’s nice to see you all again this week,” Taehyung greets his followers with a deeper and richer voice than you’ve ever heard him use. It makes your body tingle. “For those of you following me on my socials or who joined last week, you’ll know I promised to do something special for Valentine’s Day, right?”

You can’t see the laptop screen; Taehyung is standing in front of it. He’s also blocking the camera, so the people logged into the session can’t see you yet.

“I have a special guest,” Taehyung shifts to the side so you’re in view, “This is Bunny, and it’s their first time on camera like this, so please be kind.”

Unsure of what to do, you wave your fingers in a greeting, unable to do much else since you’re all tied up. It must be enough because Taehyung smiles when he looks at you, and you feel your face heat up from the gentle gesture.

Luckily, Taehyung’s attention quickly returns to the livestream chat. Apparently, Jimin is hanging out in his bedroom, moderating the chat to ensure no one posts anything inappropriate. Knowing Jimin will be watching excites you a little bit.

“Ah, no, we’re not dating,” Taehyung chuckles, and it’s strange to be able to say that you know Taehyung well enough to know that this laughter isn’t genuine. “Don’t get any ideas, though. Trust me. Our little bun might look harmless, but it’s a ruse.”

You can’t help but snort. You’d think Taehyung is stalling, but you’ve learned that his subscribers expect a sort of parasocial relationship with him. He usually warms up by feeding into that. As weirdly cute as it is, your nerves are making you impatient.

“Even though it’s my bun’s first time, I don’t think we need to take it easy on them,” Taehyung smirks into the camera, and more pings ring through the bedroom.

Each ping indicates that the livestream viewers are leaving messages in the chat and sending Taehyung money to request specific actions – actions he refuses to tell you about because that would ruin all the fun.

“Hmm…” Taehyung murmurs, eyes dragging from the streaming platform’s chat feature to you, wrapped up like a pretty present for him. The look is weighty and dark, which Taehyung has never had while looking at you.

Suddenly embarrassed, you drop your gaze as Taehyung approaches where you kneel.

“Are you ready, bun?” Taehyung’s question is softer than the look he gives you.

You nod in return and hope your nerves aren’t visible to Taehyung’s loyal fans. It would suck to fuck this up for him, as much as he annoys you. Admittedly, ever since that impromptu threesome with Jimin, Taehyung has been acting different around you. He’s been almost… sweet.

Taehyung takes out a black, wide-end riding crop from the purple box. He hits the palm of his hand with it a few times as though testing it out. He looks good, the muscles in his biceps shifting and bulging every time he winds up to flick the crop. Your entire body shudders when his dark eyes flit down to meet yours.

“How many times do I have to tell you to speak up, hm?”

Taehyung falls into character quicker than you expect. It gives you whiplash watching him push back his hair, now a light minty color that looks pretty against the pink surrounding you, his gaze an oppressive force crushing you harder than the rope ever could. Your attention briefly falls on the laptop when a few pings ring out.

What if people don’t like you? What if you don’t do well? You’d agreed to do this because Taehyung wanted to expand his portfolio, just like every other time you agreed to spend time with him. You both know that isn’t why you’re here, even if neither of you want to say it out loud.

“Bun.” Using the flat end of the crop, Taehyung lifts your chin to look at him instead of the laptop. “Don’t think about them. Just focus on me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

Taehyung drags the crop down your chest, tapping lightly at your tits to watch them bounce against the black rope. Goosebumps rush across your skin like waves in the wake of the crop’s path down your body.

“How many should I give you?”

You blink a few times, eyes suddenly bleary as you watch Taehyung walk around to stand behind you. The camera captures your side profile, allowing viewers to see you and Taehyung clearly. Despite Taehyung’s reassuring words, it’s hard not to think about the anonymous people watching Taehyung caress your body.

“How many what?” Your breath hitches when Taehyung’s hand replaces the crop to run up the length of your spine until he reaches the back of your neck.

“For your punishment, bun. How many hits do you deserve?” Taehyung asks, his voice with a deep timbre. “Lean forward.”

Taehyung squeezes the back of your neck and pushes, forcing your upper body down a bit further while you stay kneeling. Lifting the crop, he smacks your ass three times in quick succession, each hit a sharp sting that makes your body jolt.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as you struggle to keep your balance. “Is that really necessary?”

Taehyung clicks his tongue, and even though you can’t see him, you’re sure he has an infuriatingly smug look on his face.

“Count them,” he murmurs loud enough for the stream to pick up.

It’s strange how pliant you become with each hit. Something about the pain zaps something in your brain, sending your nervous system haywire until the stings turn into pleasure. Taehyung focuses each hit on the same spot until your skin becomes tender, but he doesn’t stop until your entire body shakes.

“T-twenty,” you count with a shudder, tears lining your eyelashes and fingers squeezing the ropes on your chest to give you something to hold onto, though it does nothing to ground.

“Very good.” It’s a simple statement, but Taehyung’s praise does something to you. Either that or it’s the feeling of the crop being dragged over your sore asscheek to dip inward.

You gasp when Taehyung pushes the crop through your pussy, spreading your lips open and running the crop along your folds. You’re soaking wet and on edge from him spanking you, so the glide is easy for Taehyung as he begins rubbing your clit. The crop is warm from your body heat, and though the shape is sharp and angular, any amount of stimulation feels good.

“Please,” you beg, bending forward further to expose more of your pussy.

The ropes around your legs keep your thighs spread, putting you on display for easy access. Even though you can’t see it, you’re sure your arousal glistens in the bright lighting, and you can feel your juices leak down your folds.

Taehyung runs his thumb through your pussy lips, swishing your arousal around, dragging up and down your clit before he eventually sinks his index and middle fingers into your pussy.

His name almost slips out when your thighs begin to shake. You want to call out his name and beg him to fuck you, even though everything in you doesn’t want to give him that satisfaction. It’s just too good, and you haven’t fucked since that time with Jimin. Taehyung said it would be better that way to help with your nerves, but now you’re feeling desperate, and you hate the feeling of needing to be filled.

“Fuck, look at you. You like being tied up like this, don’t you?” Taehyung smirks when he tosses the crop to the side and uses his other hand to stimulate your clit while he continues fucking you with his fingers.

You moan loudly, completely forgetting about the people watching Taehyung getting on his knees to finger you, twisting each time he pulls out, just to plunge back in and press downward to stimulate your front wall.

Remembering the rules, you swallow your pride and do what Taehyung wants.

“Yes, daddy.”

It’s humiliating to call Taehyung that. You hate it, but you can’t say his real name on air, and this was what he’d told you to call him – or else you’d be punished. He won’t let you cum if you don’t behave. Though you can’t deny how good Taehyung sounds when he groans at the name, nor how good it feels when he speeds up his fingers.

“Say it again,” Taehyung murmurs, leaning forward to press his bare chest to your back so he can reach your ear. “Baby, say it again.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Fuck.”

Grabbing your hips, Taehyung yanks you back so he can switch places with you, now kneeling in front of you. Being on this side gives him a better view of the livestream chat. Whatever he finds there makes him smile, something lopsided and suspicious.

“They do have a pretty pussy, don’t they?” Taehyung grins into the camera, reaching forward to cup your pussy. He crowds your space, forcing your face against his crotch when he leans in.

Despite how embarrassing the action is, you mouth at the bulge in his joggers.

“Hurry up,” you whine, knowing Taehyung might scold you but uncaring. “Fuck me already.”

A slap to your tender ass makes you cry out in pain.

“Our friends think I need to do something about your bratty mouth, bun,” Taehyung points out with his arms crossed against his firm chest. “They’re right, of course. You’ve always been so bratty with me.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss quietly, both hoping no one hears you and also that they will.

“You’re cute when you’re acting like a slutty little bitch.”

Taehyung tongues the inside of his cheek and turns to the box that had held the riding crop. The insults scratch some itch in the back of your brain, and your pussy betrays you by pulsing with need.

From the box, Taehyung pulls out a pink cordless wand vibrator. The head is smooth and fat, the rest of the wand sleek like Taehyung’s fingers as they grip around the handle. Anticipation burns in the pit of your stomach while you wait for Taehyung to turn the wand on and press it against your swollen, neglected clit.

Instead, once the wand is on, Taehyung presses against the bulge in his joggers.

“Oh my god,” you moan as Taehyung drags the wand up his cock until he reaches the head. He circles it slowly, hips subtly thrust forward.

It makes sense that people pay to watch Taehyung masturbate. He’s pretty when he does it, staring directly into your eyes as he whimpers, breathy and sweet.

Each of his little moans makes you wetter, and your body continues to tremble with need. It’s so unbelievably hot how he tilts his head back, exposing the V of his jaw and his Adam’s apple, bobbing each time he swallows.

“Do you think I’m pretty, bun?” Taehyung smirks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he finally removes the wand from his clothed cock. It’s hard to see the wet patch in his clothes from how dark the material is, but you know it’s there.

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper as Taehyung grabs a hold of your jaw and gives you a quick but firm squeeze that pushes your cheeks inward.

“I know you do.”

Letting go of your face, Taehyung hooks his thumbs in his joggers and pulls down far enough to take out his cock. It bobs and hangs heavy in front of your face, close enough that the tip brushes your cheek and smears precum across your face.

“Be a good bun and suck my cock, yeah?”

Not needing to be told twice, you lean forward to lap at the precum dribbling from Taehyung’s slit, making him groan. His body trembles slightly as you suck him into your mouth, and it feels good to know you’re not the only one affected.

Reaching for the wand again, Taehyung runs the tip along his shaft as you suckle the head of his cock. You can feel the vibrations in your mouth, and the sensation seems to travel down the rest of your body as your pussy pulses.

“Fuck,” Taehyung moans, throwing his head back as you take more of his cock down your throat. “Don’t go any faster. Keep it nice and slow.”

He only lets you suck him off for a bit longer, just enough to get his cock nice and wet from gagging around him. Then he tugs on your ropes, pulling you off of his cock as you gasp for air.

“You okay?” Taehyung brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, wiping away spit and precum, you’re sure. It’s disgusting, but he’s so gentle when he does it that your face grows hot.

“I’m fine.”

“You look pretty like this,” he murmurs. “I can’t wait to fuck you, baby. Been thinking about it for weeks.”

It isn’t until Taehyung cradles the side of your face and slots his lips with yours that you realize you haven’t even kissed. You usually don’t, too caught up in the carnal need to consume each other in other ways.

But kissing Taehyung feels good.

He holds you gently as your lips glide together, Taehyung tasting himself on your tongue and moaning into your mouth when he does. You pant against each other in between kisses, Taehyung using the opportunity to bite and suck on your bottom lip until you’re pushing yourself against him, seeking more. You just want to be close, closer.

“Turn around,” he breathes against your spit-slicked lips. It isn’t easy, but he helps you move until you’re facing away from him.

Without being told, you begin to lower your upper body onto the floor, but Taehyung stops you with an arm around your chest.

“Wait.” It’s spoken against your ear, his breath hot like your core as it pulses when you realize what Taehyung is doing.

He turns on the wand to the lowest vibration setting and carefully slips it through the rope wrapped around your hips. Placement presses the head of the wand directly to your clit.

“I can’t,” you squeak, hunching over as the subtle vibrations ripple through you. Normally, the setting would be too low to get you off quickly, but Taehyung has been edging you this whole time.

“It’s okay if you cum, baby. I wanna see how many times I can make you cum.”

Taehyung bites the curve of your ear before shoving the middle of your back until your upper body rests on the floor and your ass is in the air. He’s gentle when he presses his cock against your entrance, the glide easy from how sloppy wet you are. You can hear him bottom out, the sound of your arousal gushing around his cock with each wet slap of his thighs against yours as he thrusts in and out of you.

It only takes three deep strokes before you cum, pussy fluttering around Taehyung’s cock and your body shaking underneath him. The ropes prevent you from wriggling and writhing, and the vibrator on your clit prolongs your orgasm. You feel like it never ends, just wave after wave of pleasure, making your body lock up.

“Oh fuck, fuck, Tae-” You’re cut off by Taehyung’s hand slapped across your mouth.

“Behave, bun,” he growls, never letting up his pace despite how violently your body reacts to the prolonged orgasm.

Grabbing the rope tied around your back, Taehyung pulls on it, forcing you to rock back and forth on his cock at the pace he wants. You’re so wet that he slips in and out of you with wet squelches loud enough to be heard by all his subscribers.

“Oh my god,” you moan as your body rocks against the pretty sheets and fluffy pink pillows. It helps stop you from chafing against the floor, but you don’t care. All you can focus on is how good Taehyung feels, his cock filling you up and his hands tightening the hold the ropes have on the most sensitive parts of your body.

“God, you’re always so fucking creamy,” Taehyung groans, slapping your ass to watch it jiggle on his cock.

You feel another orgasm ripple through you, having barely recovered from the other one. Taehyung fucks you through it still and then fucks you through the next one.

By the time you’ve cum for the fourth time, tears stream down your face.

“Please,” you sob, the buzz of the vibrator and Taehyung’s moans flooding your brain until there’s nothing left.

“One more, bun,” Taehyung grunts as he reaches over to pull the wand out of the ropes. He tosses it to the side and replaces it with his fingers, rubbing quick circles over your clit. “Come on, give me one more so we can finish together.”

The remaining pressure inside of you bursts the moment Taehyung starts playing with your clit. You feel your pussy gush around his cock as you cum even more than before, so much that you can feel it leak down your thighs and soak the bed sheet below you.

A flurry of pings reminds you that you’re on camera. You can barely think straight long enough to understand what that means when Taehyung lets out a broken moan behind you.

“Oh fuck, you just squirted, fuck baby, why are you so hot.” Taehyung’s grip on your hips hurts when he finally cums, still thrusting even when you’ve both been pushed beyond overstimulation.

When he finally pulls out, you sag to the floor. Your entire body aches from being tied up and pounded into, not to mention how sore your ass and clit are from the constant stimulation.

“You’re trying to kill me,” you accuse weakly as Taehyung takes a deep breath, head thrown back, chest sweaty. He’s still wearing his joggers, and his soft cock hangs over the waistband, shiny with cum.

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans, running a hand over his face, “Alright, that’s, that’s all for today.” He crawls over to the laptop and gives the camera a salute. “See you all next week, assuming I’ve recovered.”

The final pings ring out from the laptop before Taehyung snaps it shut and falls back on his butt. He finally tucks his cock back in his pants and turns to where you lie, weak on the floor.

“Shit, let me get you out of this.”

You’re in a haze, something floaty and free, like a cloud, and Taehyung caresses your wispy body as he unwraps you. Your head lulls to the side, and you let Taehyung lift your limbs and shift your body until he’s finished with all the ropes.

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung asks, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Content. Satiated. Happy. In love.

“Tired,” you mumble as you stare up at Taehyung. His eyes are bright, and his cheeks are a soft pink, youthful, and pretty.

“We can take a bath and then go to bed. You’ll stay over?” His voice is a hopeful lilt when he asks, and your stomach flutters.

“Yes, daddy.”

Taehyung’s mouth morphs into that lopsided grin you pretend to hate so much.

“I love it when you call me that.”

“I hate you,” you spit out, but Taehyung kisses you before you can pout more.

It’s a slow kiss, far too gentle for what you’ve all just finished doing. Taehyung sighs into the kiss, tilting his head to deepen it, though his lips glide languidly rather than rushed with need like they had before.

You slip your arms around his broad shoulders and appreciate the stretch of being free from your restraints.

“You did so well, seriously. I’m really proud of you. You were so sexy and, fuck. I’m…” Taehyung trails off as he helps you stand up, keeping you cradled against his body when you start to sway. “Thank you for doing this with me.”

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and find no bratty comeback, only a flood of happiness that nearly chokes you.

“Maybe we can do it again if you wanna,” you offer with your lips against his neck. His skin is salty with sweat, but you flick your tongue against him anyway, just to make him squirm.

Taehyung pulls back slightly to stare at you. “For real?”

“If you keep asking, I might change my mind!”

You try to wiggle out of Taehyung’s arms, but he keeps you close. It’s fine; you don’t really want to be anywhere else but here, pressed against Taehyung’s broad frame, blanketed by his gentle attention.

Even if he is annoying.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#taehyung x reader #bts x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #the wannabe photographer chronicles #wsap #jai writes #gimmethatagustd

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ozzgin · 1 month

Note

Hello!

🌟 here again! I'm here with another request for our lovely bodyguard yandere.

Have you ever seen videos of fans jumping up onto stages with kpop idols? Then get carried away by security behind stage?

I'd love to see how our lovely violent baby girl would react to not being able to react with immediate violence as a reaction given all the eyes and cameras on him. Would he be stone faced just carrying the stage crasher by the collar like a cat? Or would he be dragging him by the legs into hell?

The reactions of fans to the bodyguard would be interesting too, I could see Reader being jealous over people thirsting over bodyguard on Twitter or something lol. Or bodyguard confused on why people would say stuff like "he could snap my back like a twig and I'd say thank you" about him.

Hope you are taking care, and I have my fingers crossed to hear from you eventually

Sincerely

-🌟

Long overdue and I'm terribly sorry about that! I had the ideas for a while now, but I could never find the proper words to assemble everything. ;-;

Yandere! Bodyguard x Idol! Reader (III)

Your bodyguard has gained sudden Internet fame after dealing with a crazed fan on stage. Naturally, he couldn't care less about anyone else, but that doesn't stop you from trying to make him jealous in return. Someone will have to be the sacrificial lamb to his murderous possessiveness.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, violence, death, reader and yandere are both psycho

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

The screen of your phone lights up again and you only need a quick glance to know what it is. Another post about last night’s event. About your bodyguard. You sink your nails into the leather chair and look ahead towards the mirror, exchanging a smile with the hairstylist.

“Oh, it looks lovely! You always do such a great job.” You compliment the woman as you tilt your head both ways, admiring the gentle curls. Now get the fuck out already.

“I’m so glad! Is there anything else you’d like me to-”

“No, that’s all. You can go”, you respond curtly.

The stylist collects her products and waves at you, exiting the room. The phone vibrates once more with a new notification, and you promptly throw it against the door. It scatters in large chunks of scrap across the plush carpet.

The whole ordeal happened within seconds. You were performing the final song of the evening when a fan hurled himself over the security barrier and onto the stage. The people standing at the very front began screaming and some took their phones out, scrambling for a good angle to record everything.

“Please, (Y/N), I’m your biggest fan!” the man pleaded, approaching you with shaking hands.

You froze in place, observing his actions with the same indifference of watching a TV ad that goes on for too long. Before the stranger could even reach your proximity, your bodyguard effortlessly and speedily threw him over the shoulder, giving you a reassuring nod and retreating backstage. He had that smile on his face that signaled he was pissed, and your mouth hung open in realization: You wouldn’t be able to witness the massacre.

You knew that expression all too well. That man would never see the light of day again, and under normal circumstances you would be right behind your bodyguard, cheering him on and suggesting ways to further torment of whoever dared to get too close to you.

And yet, your little ritual had been interrupted. You stood there on the stage, baffled, as the other idols gathered around you with worried looks. You poor thing. That must’ve been terrifying. The audience was shouting words of support, encouraging you to continue as if nothing happened. With pursed lips, you tightened your grip around the microphone and reassured everyone of your well-being. The show had to go on, regardless of your bloodlust.

This morning, you woke up to hundreds of posts online about the incident. Or rather, the way your bodyguard dealt with it. You scrolled through photos, videos, and confessions regarding the mysterious stranger who protected you from harm.

“I need a man like that in my life!”, “I know, right? So cool!”, “Imagine how easily he’d pick you up”, “The broad shoulders! I’m in love <3”

You don’t even have time to be properly upset about it. Your schedule for the day is packed with interviews and photoshoots. You glance in the mirror one final time and exit the room. The bodyguard has been waiting for you, resting against the wall with crossed arms.

“I need a new phone”, you tell him in a casual tone.

“What happened to the previous one?” He inquires, somewhat confused by your sudden request.

“Just do it!” You snap at the large man, rushing past him without providing any window for a reaction.

Ideally, you would very much like to tell him that the sudden influx of attention irritates you beyond comprehension. Then he’d reassure you that his indifference towards everyone else has not changed whatsoever, and thus your worries are entirely unfounded; but, if you need an outlet to release all that stress, he can easily find an empty changing room and service you like he always does.

Unfortunately, there is no time for that.

The bodyguard follows your movements with raised eyebrows, perplexed. What could’ve gotten you into such a sour mood? Has someone caused you to be upset? Are you still pouting after the missed playtime? He ponders the possibilities as he searches for an assistant.

The employee is visibly startled upon hearing his deep voice calling her. She turns obediently and nods, flashing her best customer-facing smile.

“Can you get (Y/N) a new phone?” he asks plainly.

“Huh? Sure…Did she specify any preferences? What was her previous model?”

He stares in confusion.

“…Can’t you guess?” she insists.

“I’m not good with these things.” The bodyguard rummages through his pocket and pulls out an old, cracked device to prove his point. “I don’t use phones much.”

Why would he? The only time he needs a phone is when he’s apart from you, which hasn’t happened since the Christmas incident. He previously considered a more modern option, so he could stalk your social media and make sure you don’t have any perverts sliding into your messages. That proved to be unnecessary, as you frequently leave your phone unattended or involve him in the process: most of your photos posted online nowadays are actually curated by his truly.

“Oh, so you don’t know about the recent craze?” The woman chuckles and takes out her own phone, speedily tapping on the screen before presenting it to the man. “See? You’re trending!”

He scans the multitude of messages. Ah, so that’s what it was. His lips curl into a grin. To think he’d witness his spoiled idol struggle with jealousy.

“That will be it for today!” the photographer announces, gesturing with his hands and guiding his helpers with the expensive equipment.

This was it, the last photoshoot. You unscrew the cap from your water bottle and take a healthy sip from it, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your other hand. The only good part about the continuous work was that you couldn’t check more of those annoying posts drooling over your bodyguard. Remembering it is enough to increase your heartbeat. The male model you were paired with for this campaign walks in your direction.

“Say, do you have anything planned after this?” He questions smugly. “You could come back to my place.”

What a ridiculous idea, you think with a grimace. Does this asshat think he’s worthy of your company? After a second of contemplation, you’re flooded with the same disappointment you felt back on the stage, watching your fan being carried away like a mere piece of cardboard over the much larger frame of your bodyguard. You might just consider the stupid offer. Why not? It’s not fair to be the only one plagued by jealousy.

“Sure. I know a better place, though.”

Your eyes narrow in a bright smile and you lead the young man towards your backstage room. As you pass by your bodyguard, you remember to mention in a low voice: “Make sure no one disturbs us.” He doesn’t answer, merely gazes at you with an empty expression.

“Man, that guy is scary as hell”, the model remarks as he throws himself in your vanity seat. “Are you not afraid to be alone with him?”

“Not really, no”, you respond idly. “You, on the other hand…”

“Excuse me?”

Now then. To set the scene, you gingerly climb into the man’s lap and adjust your arms around his neck. What a frail little human in comparison to your bodyguard. You blush in anticipation and begin counting in your head.

“H-hey, what did you mean-”

The young man is interrupted by someone’s abrupt intrusion. Your bodyguard throws you a quick glance before turning to close the door behind him. Alright, he can’t be too excited. He must pretend he’s furious, baffled, out for the hunt. You went all the way out for him. He even checked his watch to make sure you had enough time. He can’t let his enthusiasm betray him.

You jump out of the model’s hold with a gasp.

“It’s not what you think~!” you exclaim with feigned surprise. “He started flirting with me and I…” Your words trail off and you rub your arm nervously.

The bodyguard approaches the other man with monotonous movements and grabs him by the collar.

“Wait, you can’t possibly…he’s a well-known model!”, you protest with a fake cry.

Sweet little darling. Worry not, he won’t disappoint you. He’ll put on the best show for your sake. Anything to soothe your innocent heart.

“Could be the President himself”, your bodyguard confesses with a dash of theatrics, “and I’d still break his fucking neck for touching you.” He pulls out his pocketknife and looks at you. “I’ll deal with you in a moment, Miss.”

Your knees weaken and you have to rest against the vanity table. Among the screams and pleads for mercy coming from the poor butchered model, you can only focus on one thing: the violent fucking you’re about to receive.

Your bodyguard truly knows you best.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere bodyguard #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere fic #yandere male #obsessive love #female reader

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months

Text

Day In The Life

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Natalia offers the fans a snapshot of your life

"Hola," Natalia says, beaming at her phone," I'm going to take you all on a little journey today." She grabs some of her skincare from the bathroom cabinet. "It's my day off today and my girlfriend and I are planning to spend the day together."

She winks at the camera as she finishes her skincare routine.

"It's pretty early for her. Nine in the morning. She likes to sleep in."

There's scuffing at the bathroom door and Natalia rolls her eyes and opens it. She picks up her phone and angles the camera downwards.

"This is the lovely Prins. He came with my girlfriend."

Prins' tail wags at the mention of his name and walks around in circles.

"He speaks Danish," Natalia continues," And Swedish when he's being nice so I've no idea how to tell him how to do anything." She laughs from behind the camera. "Sometimes, I think he only tolerates me because I live with him and his mami."

Prins barks once before scampering further into the apartment.

"So, my skincare is done, I've already showered so all I've got to do is change into my day clothes and-"

The screen cuts for a moment.

"There. This is my fit for today. We're not doing much so I've gone very casual."

The camera cuts again and it's set up on what must be a bedside table. The angle is slightly slanted and the sun streaming in through the curtains is just light enough to see it reflect across your face.

You're still sleeping and the camera picks up Natalia creeping up from behind you, pulling you closer to her by the waist.

It's with great ease that she holds you there. Her hand is splayed over your hip and your previously frowning face relaxes even though you're still fast asleep.

"Amor," Natalia says, her nose nudging at your sensitive neck," Mi vida, it's time to get up."

You fidget a little, trying to escape the touching of your neck. You shift your shoulders too and one of your hands moves to rest on the one that's holding you.

"Talia?" You ask, voice thick with sleep. You refuse to open your eyes. "It's early."

"We have plans, amor," She reminds you," You have to get up now if you still want to take Prins out this morning."

You pry your eyes open after Natalia lays several feather light kisses to your cheeks. You notice the camera instantly and the tiniest of smiles pokes at your lips.

"I look a mess, Talia," You say as you stare at the camera in amusement.

"You look beautiful," Natalia replies," My beautiful, beautiful girlfriend."

You laugh. "I hope you keep that in when you post this. It'll get my moster Frido off my back about being the sappy one in this relationship."

The camera cuts off just as Natalia rolls you over onto your back again.

"Look at my girlfriend," Natalia says from behind the camera," Taking our son out for a walk."

You're sitting on the ground, pulling on your shoes. You smile at the camera.

"Prins," You say, shaking his leash," Kom her (come here)!"

Prins approaches, his tail wagging furiously when he finally notices what you're holding.

"She's leaving me," Natalia whines jokingly," My beautiful girlfriend, leaving me here, all alone."

You roll your eyes. "She's so dramatic!"

"You love me for it."

"Of course I do. I'll see you in a bit."

The camera flips to Natalia's joking pout. "I miss her already."

When the camera cuts in again, it's a shot of your joined hands, swinging. It cuts again and Natalia's behind you, pressing a kiss to your sensitive neck as you try to squirm away.

The video captures a few more things. A little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop and a table with two coffees. A shot of you recording in the mirror, giving Natalia heart eyes that has the whole internet going feral as she browses through clothes at a store.

There's a romantic meal too. The camera cuts in on you with your hand lying on the table, reaching across it to hold Natalia's. It's dark out now and the restaurant looks like one of those fancy, upscale ones that people spend months on a waiting list to even book a meal at.

You're smiling, not at the camera but just behind it where the viewers know Natalia is. The actual video is suddenly muted and you're saying something that people can't quite lip-read.

The camera shakes like Natalia's been caught off guard and starts laughing.

You smile even wider.

When the camera cuts again and the audio returns, you're both curled up on the sofa together.

Reina is stretched out along the back and Prins lies mostly in Natalia's lap with his head resting in yours. The tv is on low in the background as Talia drops a quick peck on your lips.

"And that was our day," She says to the camera as you rest your head against her shoulder," Did you have fun today, mi vida?"

You nod, closing your eyes as her fingers gently scratch at your scalp.

"She's sleepy," Natalia says," She's a homebody so she doesn't go out much but she did it for me today because she loves me."

"Love you," You murmur, just audible enough for the microphone to pick up.

"Love you too," Talia whispers back before raising her tone again," We're probably going to watch a movie now. There's-"

She cuts off when the front door opens and the viewers are treated to the image of her eyebrows shooting all the way up to her hairline and a look of pure terror.

"Surprise!" The recognisable voice of Pernille is audible.

"Natalia Guijarro!" The equally recognisable voice of Magda snaps," Get your hands off her! There'll be no funny business where I can see it!"

It's like Natalia hasn't even realised the camera is still running because she puffs out her cheeks in annoyance and says back," You don't even live here! How did you get a key?"

You sleepily push off from Talia's shoulders and rub your eyes.

"Momma? Morsa? Did I forget you were coming?"

"It wouldn't be much of a surprise if you knew we were coming," Pernille says. Her hands come into frame as she cups your face and presses a kiss in greeting to your forehead.

"I mean it, Natalia!" Magda continues after giving you your own soft greeting," Hands where I can see them! You will not defile my daughter in my presence."

Natalia splutters. "I-I don't defile her! I...We..."

"Morsa," You groan, your cheeks flushing red," You're embarrassing me."

The last shot captured is off Magda's fingers reaching out to pinch your cheek.

"Good," She says," One of has to."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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bakubunny · 4 months

Note

you said you wouldn't post more werewolf!bakugo x bunny hybrid!reader, but i said no such thing ;)

( •̀ ω •́ )✧

werewolf!bakugo, who, every rut cycle, has to go "on a camping trip" to the woods. he normally leaves his pet bunny hybrid at home, sparing her the burden of having to deal with him. he doesn't want to scare her more than he already does. doesn't want his cute little bunny to fear for her life. and he knows there are instincts he has, more primal and hungry, that he might not be able to ignore if she comes along.

werewolf!bakugo, who makes one too many mistakes the next time his rut is coming. gets a little too snippy with his cute little bunny. makes her run away because he's yelling and snarling too much. he thinks, "good, i'll apologize when i come back and it's done". but he forgets to check the backseat of his truck. thinks the overwhelming smell of her in the car is just from all the rides she's taken with him there, amplified by his instincts.

werewolf!bakugo, who finally realizes his mistake when it's far too late to turn around. he shoves his poor little bunny in a room of her own in the cabin, tell her not to leave no matter what she hears, tells her to lock the door. it's a good thing he had at least some foresight, because there are latches lining the threshold.

bunny hybrid!reader, who's a good girl. she doesn't move a muscle. not even when she hears her master howling through the night in the adjacent room. not even when she hears the sound of chains — likely used to keep bakugo in place — rattling loud before they're ripped from the wall. not even when she hears the faux gentle knocks on her door followed by heavy pounding and demands to let her master in.

bunny hybrid!reader, who feels her heartrate increase when the door begins to rattle, shake, and splinter. she's shivering in fear (in anticipation?) when it all suddenly goes quiet. she can only hear the pounding of her heart, the rasp of her breath...

...and the window sliding open.

"ya forgot to lock this one, bunny"

a/n: i just came across a popular post where people were complaining abt too much bunny x werewolf stuff in general, so i guess if this somehow reaches that corner of the internet, this is my first real foray into this trope so don’t @ me for being in love with it ok?

eta: original werewolf kats post

neon’s gonna take me out with this istg fam. also we’re going to pretend for a moment that a ripped, 7ft+ werewolf can fit thru a window.

his voice sounded strange, lower and rougher than usual, hungry. you knew better than to ignore him.

“s-s-sorry, k-katsuki. i-i'm sorry,” you sputtered.

you weren’t sure what to expect as the whistle of the wind filtered in with the rumble of katsuki’s chest on his every breath. big, clawed hands pulled his massive frame through the window. you cowered and pulled into yourself as you sat on the bed he’d provided you with.

standing in front of you was a creature you didn’t recognize, one that looked more like a wolf on two legs, a human covered in ash blonde fur. he was at least two feet taller than you with patches of fur that were lighter on his chest and face. his teeth were bared as he snarled, nose scrunched along his muzzle. a growl stirred in his chest as he stared you down with crimson eyes. what was left of the binding on his wrists he’d tried to use to keep himself fell to the floor with a loud clunk. he stalked towards you, glare unwavering.

“p-please don’t be mad,” you said. "please don't h-"

katsuki’s fist flew towards your as he growled angrily, lips curled. he grabbed you by the face. you flinched, eyes shut tight. his grip was firm as one of his claws pressed painfully into your cheek, but you were unharmed.

sailva quickly built up around his bottom lip. a long, dark tongue dipped out to lick them. "don't you dare. i would never hurt ya. you should know that much by now."

your heart raced, a cold sweat on your skin as he stood there and watched you tremble in fear. instincts screamed at you to run, run, run. your stomach twisted into a tight knot of cramps from his scent; you couldn't pin it down but it was strong. but your brain, the last to follow, told you that katsuki was safe. so you froze.

“s-sorry, i’m sorry i didn’t know you - you-” your eyes scanned over his form again, terrifyingly strong and foreign.

“i know. i wasn’t gonna tell ya. but secret’s out now cause ya just had to sneak into the truck, didn’t ya? couldn’t just listen to me the first time like a good little bunny cause ya thought i was mad. what did you plan on doin’ once ya got here and i found out, huh? try n’ snuggle your way outta me bein’ all pissy like you usually do? ‘s a little different when ya don’t know what you’re gettin’ into, baby bun.”

katsuki studied your face as he licked his lips again, drooling by the time he did. “i know ya don’t get it all the time, but i’m tryin’ to keep ya safe. you’re lucky your first heat hasn’t hit yet… but-” he pushed his muzzle close to your neck and sniffed a little. his grip tightened painfully as he took in a deep breath and growled low in his chest.

“that’s about to change, ain’t it?”

@dcsiremc @zazter-den

#sorry for the cliffhanger #i couldn’t get past this without being too flustered #this is cringy and i don’t care #let me have this #i don't like how it turned out but here's more werewolf!kats brainrot #x reader #bakugou katsuki #aged up characters #tw hybrids #tw monsterfucking #mha smut #bnha smut #f!reader #🐺#bakugo katuski #bakugou x reader #bakubunny #cute moots

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leighsartworks216 · 6 months

Note

Screaming crying crawling up the walls for your top tier Astarion content

Idk if you’ve seen this, it’s floating around the internet (I think it’s a tweet?) it says something like “I want someone to grab my face and say ON PURPOSE, I WILL CARE FOR YOU ON PURPOSE” and I’d love to see our love-deprived bi-centurion react to something like this.

Like maybe he’s caught feelings for tav and is starting to feel bad for manipulating them and starts self-sabotaging by saying/thinking stuff like ‘you only THINK you love me but it’s not real, I’m sorry I made you feel this way’ and tav getting v v serious and replying “I never loved you by accident”.

Him being confronted by the fact that things never would’ve gotten this far if they didn’t let it, if they didn’t choose him, that they’re still choosing him and that it has nothing to do with the act he put up or the situation he constructed, if they wanted nothing to do w him they could’ve and would’ve dipped.

Idk I’m just spitting ideas, have fun babe ✌🏻

- 🦇

I wrote this at 2am but I did proofread it (it's almost 4 now 💀)

Also the original tweet is by Jenny Slate (@/jennyslate) and says, "I just want someone to grab my little face and scream 'ON PURPOSE, ON PURPOSE I AM GOING TO CARE ABOUT YOU'"

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: self-doubt, references to manipulation, self-deprecation, references to dissociation, dissociation mention, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,392

Main Masterlist

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

It began one night, almost a week ago. Astarion had gotten into the routine of joining you in your bedroll after feeding, cuddling close and relaxing to the steady sound of your heartbeat. That night, a week ago, he didn’t. He delicately bit into your skin and pulled away before you were even slightly dizzy, murmured something about how you’d need your strength for a fight tomorrow, and slipped off to hunt for animals. Truly, you didn’t think anything of it, then. And maybe you got so lost, so caught up in your daily stress, that was why you didn’t register it for so long. Comments under his breath about manipulation immediately covered up with Gale requesting a magical artifact or Shadowheart and Lae’zel fighting.

So, a week went by. And the realization finally hit. Guilt ate away at your stomach, but wallowing wasn’t going to help. When night started to creep in, your companions slipping into their tents, you slipped into Astarion’s. Sitting in a pile of pillows, he looked up at you with a smirk and a ‘Hello, darling’, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were dark. Distant.

“I’m sorry I haven’t given you the attention you need,” you start. A baffled look flickers across his face, but it is not given the time to settle.

There is a twitch at the corner of his mouth, like it’s a strain for him to keep smirking. “It’s perfectly alright, darling. You’ve been busy running around camp, helping people - I understand.”

With any other person, this would have seemed a perfectly reasonable response. An apology accepted, a mutual understanding - the relationship goes on. Except, this was Astarion.

You sit down nearby, close enough to reach out and touch. Any closer and you worried you’d overcrowd him. You always tried to let him come to you first, though he usually struggled to initiate anything.

“You’ve been distant, too,” you point out. He begins to form the words to apologize, but you shake your head to stop him before they can build a sentence. “I’m not upset, I don’t need an apology. I just wanted to know why.”

To be honest, he didn’t expect you to notice. He assumed, quite stupidly, all things considered, that you would be too preoccupied to notice him slowly slipping away. Late night cuddles dashed for hunting, hand holding forgotten as he trails along at the back of the group, kisses never lingering and the ones that did lacking any emotion behind them.

“Is something wrong?” you prompt gently. “If it’s too much, we can work out what would be better for you.”

Guilt stabs at his own non-beating heart like a wooden stake. He’s drifting and you still throw him a rope, still ask for him to grab on and pull himself away from his past, from dissociating with the slightest hint of affection.

He smiles wryly. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” he teases, but it comes out a little too strained to be a joke. His fingers fiddle with the corner of the page of his book. He finds watching the paper fold and bend is much more interesting than looking into your eyes.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he says, but the endearment feels like fire on his tongue, “but it’s not real. This isn’t real.” Your brow furrows as you stare at him. He can’t bear to see the realization cross your face. “Two hundred years of manipulating - of course I would trick you, too. It’s instinct, darling, I don’t blame you.” Red eyes finally meet yours. You look confused, of course, but there’s an air of determination, like you’re ready to fight whatever plagues him. “But this… love… it’s not real. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry I made you feel this way.”

He expects anger. He expects tears, even. Crying and shouting and ‘How could you?!’s and ‘I can’t believe you’ve manipulated me all this time!’ But it never comes. You frown, sure, but it’s leagues away from being angry.

“You think… you manipulated me into feeling this way?”

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Admitting it feels bitter. He blames it on his growing fondness for you, but he knows it cannot possibly be returned in any genuine way. Not with his underhanded tactics surfacing at every passing glance, soft brush, and gentle smile. “Come now, darling,” he smirks again, building a wall to separate himself from the shitshow that must be just ‘round the corner, “who could really love me?”

That only succeeds in making you frown further. “Astarion, I’m not with you because you’ve tricked me.” The baffled look from earlier surfaces again, but it lingers, mixed with doubt. “I understand that you started this to manipulate me into protecting you, but I’m not here because you successfully influenced my emotions - To be perfectly honest, I could tell from the start.”

He laughs dryly, suddenly, like it startles him. “And here I was thinking I’d learned some subtlety.”

You don’t laugh with him. You don’t even smile. “I chose you, Astarion. I still choose to be with you. Because I want to.”

Any lingering mask of confidence fell from his face. The creases around his mouth became more prominent as he frowned. His eyes darted around, glancing around your face for any tells of deception, any hint that you’re making this up to make him feel better. “How can you be sure? How do you know you’re choosing me and not just buying into another act?”

“Astarion.” You get on your knees and hold his face in your hands. He stares up at you with big, round eyes. “If I wanted to, I could break up with you. I am not staying because I feel stuck, or because I feel obligated to. I love you. On purpose. On purpose, I am staying with you. On purpose, I choose you.”

He opens his mouth, but no words form. His mind is reeling, chasing to catch up and process everything, all the while jumping and flipping, trying to find excuses or reasons why you shouldn’t care for him. He swallows the lump building in his throat. He speaks in a whisper, too stunned to speak louder. “Are you sure?”

Your whole face softens. Determination turns to fond affection, frown lifting into a soft grin. “Yes. I’m sure.” You press a kiss to his forehead, and he closes his eyes to savor it. It’s been a week without allowing himself your love - he deserves to enjoy it once again, even if he feels guilty for it. He wishes his thoughts would just shut up and let him have this. “If you still need space or time, I’ll be here. I’m not leaving. Just,” you pull his face back, “please talk to me about this next time. I know things have been hectic, but I’m never too busy for you.”

He sighs, slow and soft. Relieved. “Of course, my love.” He adores the way you smile brightly at the endearment. He turns sheepish. “Ah, could I, possibly, join you tonight? It does, admittedly, get rather lonely passing the time alone.”

You kiss his cheek. “Of course you can. C’mon, I’ll even play with your hair if you’d like.”

He chuckles, genuine this time. “I very much would.” His book is set aside, the page he left off on lost as he takes your hand and follows you from his tent. He can’t help himself from squeezing your hand in his, like he can’t quite grasp the fact you are physically holding onto him. Even when you lay down first and he settles in next to you, arms wrapped around your middle and his head on your chest, it still feels hard to believe. But the way you wrap your arms around him and gently detangle his curls and scratch lightly at his scalp cannot possibly be from his imagination. Nor the way you press kisses on his forehead and temple and hair with sweet praises and words of affection. His mind is not kind enough to imagine such tenderness.

Laying there in your arms, listening to the steady beat of your heart and even breaths that fill your lungs as you slip into sleep, is the closest he has ever been to true contentment.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnloveslokiredacted @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog

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bonesandchalamet · 1 year

Text

lessons in french- t.chalamet

pairings: timothee chalamet x reader

warnings: google translated French

a/n: first post on this account 😁 my main is @thatsdemko 🫶 feedback is always appreciated xx

“and how do I say ‘I love you’ again?”

“Je t'aime.” he says, mouth full of a buttery croissant you fetched from the bakery across the street. it’s your morning ritual, the boy who lives across town comes to your apartment and you get him “New Yorks finest croissants”— at least that’s how he puts it as.

your recent discovery was of his ability to speak a different language, French that is, and ever since you’ve been begging for lessons due to your upcoming trip to Europe. you could say New York public school systems failed you, as you barely remember a lick of the words he makes you repeat.

“and what about stop making a mess of my sofa.” you scowl brushing the pastry crumbs that scatter the cream colored seats. he mumbled a sorry as he finishes his last bite, a delighted moan escapes his lips.

“why the sudden interest in the language again?” he asks brushing his hands on his pants rather than using the crummy paper napkin that’s already wadded up and disintegrating from the butter of his hands.

“because I’m going to Europe in three weeks! I can’t look like an idiot.”

“certaines choses ne peuvent pas être changées.” he lightly giggles shaking his head watching your face scrunch up trying to dissect the sentence, but you fail. some things can’t be changed

you huff an annoyed sigh, arms crossed over your chest, “I wish I never bought you that croissant years ago.” you joke watching his acting skills come to life as he pretends to be hurt.

“now you’re just being straight up rude, amour.”

—

“so when a nice guy offers me a drink at the club what should I say?”

“J'ai un petit-ami.” the same buttery croissant fills his mouth, he watches you saunter across your tiny New York City living room. he admits, you not knowing any French is fun for him. it means he has all control of what you repeat back and what you write in your journal for the trip. this one might’ve just been the icing on the cake. I have a boyfriend

“J’ai un petit-ami? doesn’t that mean something else?” you question, head cocked to the side watching him shake his head in response as he swallows the pastry.

“nope.” he replies, reaching for the hot coffee you’ve provided him, he slurps the contents watching your pen move vigorously across the page. he thinks it’s cute how focused you are, he loves how close you hold the notebook to your face and how you spell out the words in a way only you will know what they mean.

“so are all French people assholes? I’ve been reading up on your people.”

he laughs, “my people?” he watches the red hue light your face, hands up in defense, “that’s what the internet says!”

he laughs once more telling you to never believe the internet, although he did play you into thinking the words “I have a boyfriend” mean something completely different, so maybe he is apart of that collective group.

—

“repeat it to me once more, amour.”

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” do you want to sleep with me tonight

he chuckles a little to himself trying to find a serious tone, “that’s exactly what you should say to the cab driver.”

you chuck an orange at him watching his hands go up in defense as he allows the fruit to hit him the arm, two of you laughing, “this isn’t funny, Timmy! I leave in twenty-four hours!”

he watches you collapse against the cream colored sofa beside him, legs extending into his lap, “how am I supposed to order croissants for you across the world?” you bat your eyelids in an affection way, it’s your last hope to get help— the pastry was already the key to his heart. it gets him to do anything.

“what a dilemma that is.” he shakes his head, fingers tangling through his curls that fall in front of his eyes, “just don’t forget your notebook and you’ll be fine. do you remember how to order?”

“un croissant š'il vous plaît.” a croissant please

“tu est parfaite.” you are perfect

—

his phone buzzes in his pocket, it hasn’t even been a full day since you landed in Paris and you’ve been buzzing him like a mad woman. it’s his first time being in your place alone, he’s in charge of watering your plants. he notices you’ve left him money for his croissants and an extra key in case he misplaces the one you already gave him.

“bonjour mon ami how is Paris?” he picks up the phone plopping down onto your cream colored sofa and pressing speaker so he can listen and eat.

“did you know j’ai un petit-ami is I have a boyfriend?! you lied to me!”

he laughs, the familiar sound spreads a smile on your face despite your angry tone, it’s nice to hear him. even if you’ve been texting him, his voice is what you miss right now, “I guess you’re right my people are assholes.”

“damn right, chalamet! and I learned a little something from the bartender last night, tu es un connard!” you are an asshole

“Je t'aime!”

#timothee x reader #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee chamalet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #Timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothée chalamet #timothée x reader #timothée fanfic #timothee x you #timotheé chalamet #timothée x you

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sincerelyrki · 1 month

Text

MINI SKIRT

↳ five : don’t speak beabadobee to me

wc : 810

previous | masterlist | next

The second you stepped into the store a serene wave of comfort washed over you. You practically felt your mind calm as the familiar scent of their air refresher danced against your skin.

Your boots offered a tune of white noise, harmonizing with the overhead fans. You walked with a specific destination in mind, fingers treading against the vast majority of jacket sleeves, textures unchanging until you reached the wide stand along the wall.

All worries that consumed you before were now replaced with a childish delight, chest tingling as you looked up at the wide variety of sunglasses.

More often than not you tended to stray away from the sunglasses, often opting to get a new skirt, maybe even a jacket if you felt exploitative that day. But today, everything felt different.

You didn’t know what caused this feeling, countless options being at hand. Maybe it was the change of weather, summer coming in fast. The heat of the sun boring down into your window every morning.

Or maybe it was what happened with Enhypen’s new video, a longing to be unrecognizable itching away at your skin.

It’s not like you weren’t already in the public eye, both your parents making a name for themselves long before you were born. But it wasn’t the same, you couldn’t hide away from the labels getting thrown at you by random kids on the internet.

Even while growing up with famous parents, the comments were never as inessential as they are now. You shook off the oncoming thoughts, trying to get the same clarity you felt seconds ago.

A small smile fell on your lips as you noticed a specific pair of black glasses, the ones that you’ve been eyeing since they came out years ago.

Now you were almost convinced that it was destiny that brought you here. The glasses have been sold out since the day they entered this location, a restock always happening at the most inconvenient times.

You stood on your tippy toes as you reached for the glasses, fingertips barely grazing them before you leaned back down with a huff. Before you could turn around to search for an employee’s aid, an arm shot out beside you.

You stood still with bated breath, shock numbing your limbs as a random man slid beside you. His denim jacket nearly touched your own as he brought his arm back down, the glasses tight between his fingers.

Without saying a word he passed them towards you, keeping his head turned away. After a moment of just standing beside each other, glasses held between the two of you, you finally took them from him.

“Thank you” Your voice came out surprisingly shy, a confused expression blooming across your face. It wasn’t like you to get shy, especially not to some random man.

But after turning away, you soon learned that he wasn’t just some random man. Your jaw dropped in shock as you caught his eyes in the reflection from the glasses, eyes widening as you quietly whispered his name, “Jake Sim?”

It was hard not to notice Jake’s pupils dilating the second you turned towards him, his breath hitching as your cute expression captivated him.

His eyes mindlessly scanned your outfit, stopping as they reached your skirt, a black miniskirt. It felt like he was put into a haze, unable to see anything aside from you.

You slightly smirked as you observed your effect on Jake, his demeanour giving everything away. You were well aware of the way his chest rose and fell, his hands nervously shaking by his side.

“You’re Jake, right?” Your voice broke him out of whatever trance you pushed him into before. His head snapped back up towards you, mouth morphing into a wide smile as he realized what you said.

“You know me?” At your nod Jake couldn’t help but perk up, his hand slapping against his mouth at your confirmation.

Your heart stuttered in your chest after noticing his actions, his jacket covering his hands as it pressed against the lower part of his mouth. “You’re so cute!”

Jake bashfully looked off towards the side, shaking his head as he denied your words. His burning cheeks were nearly impossible to hide, fully visible for your viewing.

“Are you buying those?” Jake tried changing the topic, a singular finger sticking out from his sleeves as he pointed at the sunglasses in your hand.

You once again nodded, teeth showing as you gave him your brightest smile, “Yeah, thought I’d finally get them today.” You didn’t offer him any further explanation, not that he cared.

Jake practically saw his dreams unfolding before his eyes, the opportunity that he’d been waiting for was finally in the palm of his hands.

“Let me buy them for you?” And who were you to deny an offer from Jake Sim?

SYNOPSIS ⮕ You know Jake Sim and you love Prada, it was already a perfect combination. You just happened to always be in the same place as him, at the same time. And that place just happened to be the Prada store. It’s not your fault that your Prada collection expands as your interactions grow. Especially not considering that Jake couldn’t stop himself from fawning over you (and your mini skirts).

taglist is OPEN ! send an ask or comment to be added xoxo taglist one (1) : @vousty @iheartjayke @kgneptun @woninluv @memooooca @rosas-in-the-garden @thea-herondale @letters2won @certified-ni-ki-lover @addictedtohobi @wonpoem @eunbiland @hae-luvr @t00miee @bbangricz @tytrackfebreze @cafeyuns @aerivrs @seunnimg @enhytan @enhaz1 @neocockthotology @jiawji @miumiuestmoi @sophi-ee @cha0thicpisces @manooffline @glassesyunjin @rinahch @jaklvbucb @rikizm @ilyjxdz @mnxnii @n1k1mura @hhoonsbaby @xiaoderrrr @artstaeh @nikisuar @who-tf-soddhi @jakeslvt @hohohobo @simjyunnie @natsukee @fakeuwus @ramenoil @aeminju @lanapaz @seunghancore @heartswonn @jakeyverse @l1lyanah @sunpov @yoitsr @jessicadacollest @h4918ymc @jeongintwt @oldjws | bold = can’t tag

perm taglist : @jwnghyuns

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nolita-fairytale · 11 months

Text

Carmy as Your Baby Daddy | Social Media AU & Headcanon Series | part four

a/n: I’ve got too far and I’d like to keep going TYSM. Your IG feed during your pregnancy and a post paired with the cutest fluffiest little blurb where carmy reacts to one of your posts.

blurb word count: 531

part three | masterlist | part five

"I can't believe you have this," Carmy chuckles, shaking his head at something on his phone.

"Hm?" you hum in response, as you lay propped up against the pillows and the headboard behind you.

"This photo of me," he answers, showing his phone to you. You place the book you’re reading down on your lap, narrowing your eyes as you peer over at the bright phone screen.

It's the photo you'd posted earlier that day. He must've just checked his instagram account. You giggle as you realize what photo he's talking about, a broad smile stretching across your face as you turn to him. Pictured is a much younger Carmy, standing over a bar in an open kitchen, his hair much shorter than now — just like when you’d met him.

"What a throwback, huh?" you shoot back.

You shift in bed just a little -- certainly not enough to disturb a perfectly curled up Aioli whose asleep at the foot of your bed.

" I-, I cut my hair... right when I moved to New York," he recalls with a shake of his head as he runs a tattooed hand through his curls. "Thought I'd like... cut off my hair and like... be a new person or whatever. It was stupid."

"Stupid? No. But I'm so glad you only kept it up for a little bit. I prefer your long hair," you add cheekily.

"Where did you get this?" he asks, still in disbelief as he looks down at the photo on the his phone screen.

"Well, I don't know about you, Carmy, but I do have access to the internet," you tease him, in reference to the fact that the photo had been taken to accompany an Eater article announcing his new position as CDC.

He rolls his eyes playfully, "I just mean-. I didn't even think you liked me back then."

"I didn't," you shrug, easily.

He scoffs, shaking his head once again as he looks away from you. You're a piece of work -- one of the many things he loves about you. This time, as he turns his whole body towards you, he moves further down so that he can talk to you and the baby. As he sets his phone down somewhere on the bed, you decide to take a more genuine approach this time as you answer his question.

"When we started getting to know each other... during quarantine," you begin to share. "I don't know. It must've been after one of our FaceTimes or something... I went back to the article and saved the photo."

He blushes, the softest smile appearing on his face as his blue eyes pierce right through your heart.

"There was something about it... that I liked. And I found it the other day when I was cleaning out my camera roll. Guess I've had it ever since."

"You liked me then?" he asks softly, as he looks up at you.

You nod.

"At least, enough to save this photo of you," you tease with a raise of an eyebrow.

He chuckles, leaning down to place the gentlest kiss to your round, extended tummy.

"And what about now?" he asks, coyly.

"Well, I like you enough to let you knock me up," you banter with him with a giggle.

He smirks, reaching over to put a hand on your belly, "Enough to let me do it again?"

You laugh incredulously as you say, "Let's just get through this first one, Berzatto."

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #still into you #make my heart surrender #Carmy as your baby daddy

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aziraphales-library · 12 days

Note

Hello dear mods!! This is kind of a random, oddly specific ask but do you have any fics where one of our lovely Ineffable Husbands uses really cheesy pickup lines?

I’m a sucker for cheesy pickup lines, and I’ve come across one or two in the wilds of ao3 and they were hilarious and adorable.

Human au/other aus or just regular Angel and Demon are perfectly fine!! Thank you!! <3

Hey! Here are some fics with pick up lines for you...

If I told you you had a nice body, would you hold it against me? by involuntaryorange (T)

After several months of mounting frustration, Crowley turns to the internet. Humans seem to have figured out relationships, he reasons; or, at least, they’ve figured out how to get into them, and that’s the part he needs help with. An hour of googling and two rather nice bottles of pinot noir later, he has a plan. a.k.a. the one where Crowley decides to try out some pick-up lines.

Did it hurt? by madlysanecatlady (T)

An exercise in shitty pickup lines.

do him! by orphan_account (T)

Crowley is an astronomer who does a side gig as a stand-up comedian on Fridays. One Friday he sets out to introduce a new segment to his routine, a bit where he makes fun of the audience's expense. Though when he's asked to make fun of a gorgeous man, he says something brash and regrets it, and then later goes to introduce himself and apologize to the kind man. - “Hello there!” Crowley said, chastising himself for being too loud when the man jumped. “Oh, hello. Er, may I help you?” The man said. “Uh, yeah. I’m Crowley.” He said, reaching his hand out to shake. “Aziraphale,” the man said, taking it. “I just wanted to apologize for making that joke, it was wrong of me to cross a boundary like that. I was simply caught in the moment and I thought you looked pretty. I didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable that you had to run out.” Crowley said.

Wingman by writeonclara (T)

“Do you understand what will happen to you if you don’t smash your demon buddy? And since you’re”—Gabriel paused to search for the proper adjective to encompass all of Aziraphale’s Aziraphaleness, then settled on—“you, God commanded me to help you. And buddy, you need all the help you can get.” Or: Gabriel’s assigned to be wingman for Aziraphale to keep him from Falling. He’s about as good at it as you’d imagine.

The Pumpkin Patch by AppleSeeds (T)

Aziraphale visits a pumpkin patch and meets Crowley, a farmer with a fondness for cheesy seasonal pick-up lines. After a while, he starts to get the impression that Crowley might actually be flirting with him, and tries to work up the courage to reciprocate.

The Steps to Courting an Angel by ReginaPapilio (G)

Crowley entrusts his love life to a "Love Guide" upon finding it in Aziraphale's bookshop. Now he just needs to follow it until the angel is finally his, but things don't go his way that easily.

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan (E)

"All right, I know I'm going to regret asking this," Aziraphale says. "What exactly does this wager entail?" Crowley grins like the cat that not only got the cream but has absconded with the entire cow. He grabs the bottle and swigs straight from it despite Aziraphale's tut of disapproval. "The pot goes to whichever demon can get an angel into bed by the end of the evening." AKA The Fic That Tumblr Made Me Write. Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #flirting #pick up lines #getting together #mod d #humour

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deepdisireslonging · 5 months

Text

No Cum November Part 8: Exorcism Play

Dean ramps up the challenge by handing the reigns to the Reader to control the pace. Can she manage that control, or will Dean’s stronger side overpower her?

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Warnings/Promises: SMUT, anti-demon handcuffs, exorcism play (is that a thing? It is now), edging, oral (male receiving), light degradation

Word Count: 1400

Note: Had a bit more fun with this one. Wanted to play with both Dean’s subby side, and his proud Deanmon side. Let me know your thoughts and reactions in the comments and with reblogs. Happy reading!

Part 7: Double Possession

You awoke to the sensation of being watched.

Two eyes, eclipsed with demonic black, stared down at you. The hand over your mouth muffled your scream. The other hand around your wrists controlled your thrashing until you could recognize the familiar face.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” He gently lifted his hand off your face.

“Dean?” Panting, heart racing, you hesitated inching away from him. “Are- are you alright?”

He grinned. “I am myself. It’s just contacts. You can find just about anything on the internet these days.” He leaned back, giving you room to recover. “How are you? That is- is this okay? Are you up for a little game?”

Intrigued, you sat up in your bed. “A game?”

Two pairs of cuffs landed on the sheets next to your hips. Eagerly, you started to slide back down into place, but Dean stopped you with a chuckle. Taking hold of your wrist, he tugged you to stand so he could take your place. You watched as he closed the first cuff around his wrist. Only then did you recognize the anti-demon symbols engraved into the metal. You clicked the second cuff around his wrist with shaking hands.

With another grin, Dean leaned back into the sheets. “Ready to ride the demon out of me, baby?”

You hesitated. “But, with you tied down… you-“

“I won’t be able to stop you? I know. I trust you. And even if you do cum, you’ve done so well. Taking both Sam and I, having to watch us cum without getting to orgasm. If you cum tonight, it’s alright. We start over. And we keep going till the end of the month. We’ve got a few more plans for you.” He tilted his head to get a good look at your face. “Y/N. Look at me, sweetheart.”

You did.

“You can do this. Trust me.” He wriggled. “Now take that shirt off so I can see you.”

“Who’s in charge here? You, in the cuffs, or me?” A teasing smile played at your lips as you toyed with the hem of your sleep shirt. Despite not being able to see his irises, Dean’s eyes followed your hands as they dipped under the fabric. Despite the dark contacts, his eyes still lit up as you removed your shirt, tossing it to one side. Your bottoms followed suit, making him lick his lips. “Let’s see if we can exorcise you with a bit of cardio?”

He was still clothed and arched into your reach for his shirt buttons. One by one, you slipped them through the fabric until you could see the expanse of his chest and soft tummy. His stomach contracted as you first gently ran your fingers across his skin, then grazed the same path with your fingernails. He softly whined your name as you started to undo the button and zipper on his jeans. When you dragged the fabric out of the way, and then his boxers, his member sprang up stiff against his stomach. You took it into your hand, making Dean pull on the cuffs with your slow movements. His loud groan as you twirled your thumb around the tip froze you. Maybe a gag was in order?

“Where’s Sam?”

“Out.”

“Hmm.” You slid your hand down to grip the base of his cock. “Nobody here to save you but me.”

Catching his eye, you situated yourself between his legs and began to suck him off in earnest. He writhed and twisted, trying to both push his length deeper into your mouth, and pull away to catch his breath. With your nails digging into his hips, and the cuff into his wrists, there wasn’t anywhere for him to go. So he begged. He begged for you to twirl your tongue how he liked. Begged for you to hum around him. Begged you for mercy after you quickened your pace. Begged for you to move when you slowed down too much. He knew what you were doing. You were edging him. And you were toying with his pleasure the same way that he and Sam had been teasing you all month. It made his cock twitch in your mouth with the thought.

You pulled off with a pop. “Getting close, darling?”

All he could do was nod. Through the contacts, you knew his eyes were glazed over in pleasure.

You began again, giving no mercy. Dean filled your mouth a few moments later, crying out your name. Even after you removed your mouth to kiss across his tummy, you still weren’t done. You straddled his hips, trapping his cock under your wetness. Then he understood. With him at only half-mast, you would be able to ride him with less of a chance of ruining the challenge. While still overstimulating the man trapped beneath you.

“Feeling vengeful, sweetheart?”

“Maybe just a little.”

Dean’s head fell back into your pillows. The drag of you across his length was torture so close to his release. But his cock did it’s best to stiffen again anyways. He shivered as you rose just high enough to sink down onto it. You stopped when you reached his base. On either side of his hips, your thighs quaked. If what you had planned was going to work, you would really have to focus.

“Ah, this was easier when your mouth was full, wasn’t it?”

With a start, the dark glow in Dean’s eyes sent a fearful zing through your body. It made you clench with the pseudo-danger of the scene. Especially with the way Dean’s voice remembered that growl that came with his demon days.

“What’s your plan, sweetheart? Ride the demon out of me? Make me cum so hard I see grace?” His voice cracked as you flexed your walls around him. “You’re off to a good start,” he muttered.

You took a deep breath and began to move. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-“

Dean laughed high. “Alright. Let’s see you try.”

Where you had been controlling the pace, Dean began to match your thrusts. He snapped his hips hard, and twisting his hips to put pressure on your clit. Your chanting was interrupted. You restarted phrases and lines over and over, trying to make it through the whole exorcism. Dean continued to move. Continued to knock you off rhythm with his hips, and with his words.

“You look so good up there, sweetheart. Riding me like only you can. Like you were meant to be. I love a blowjob as much as the next guy… but watching you bounce on my cock is the best thing. How close are you? Can you feel that orgasm building?”

“Ergo- er…. ergo, draco male- oh, Dean, maledicte-“

“How bad do you want it, Y/n? You’ve been so good. What’s one orgasm? I could give you so many, and Sam wouldn’t have to know. But no, you’re our good girl, aren’t you? You won’t cum. But I bet you’re close. Bet your nipples are so hard. Squeeze your breasts for me. Wish I could touch you-“

It didn’t register that you were supposed to be in charge. You’d lost that long ago.

“Oh, God-“

“He’s not here. Keep bouncing. I’m- keep going-“

Dean’s body stiffened. His cock twitched and filled you. While Dean fought to catch his breath, you fell to one side. You shivered from head to toe, just barely short of the release Dean’s demon side had tempted you with. How much longer was this challenge? You needed to cum.”

Warm, trembling lips pressed against your forehead. “You did so good. Just a bit longer.” He breathed deeply, guiding you to calm down from your denial. “Alright. Let me outta these things.” He rattled the cuffs against your headboard.

“Maybe I want to leave you in them for a bit longer. You’re not fully exorcised yet.” You giggled under his glare. “Besides, maybe I want to sleep right here.” A yawn broke though your next words with perfect timing.

“But if I’m tied up, I can’t cuddle my good girl to sleep.”

“Very true.” You released the cuffs. Dean turned to one side, removing the contacts and placing them onto your nightstand. Then he embraced you, holding you tight and nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. “Sleep tight. And rest up. Sam’s got something planned for you soon.”

***

On the King’s Blade (King of Hell!Sam)

Series Masterlist

#Demon!Dean #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #reader insert #winchester smut #winchester x reader #supernatural

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erodasfishtacos · 2 years

Note

I saw you were doing blurbs and I can’t get this idea out of my head. I love your vogue beauty secrets and there is another YouTube cam hammer that does truth or drink and they had a married couple and all I could think about was MLBHarry and Yn, laughing and drinking.

The Love Birds

prompt: ^^

warnings: none

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it! (this is what motivates me to continue writing)!

i write for FREE - I am also trying to steer away from paetron so everyone can have access my stories - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

—-

“Why did we agree to do this?” YN shakes her head as she looks at the liquor bottles and shot glasses in front of her then all the cameras.

Harry was sat across from them, a camera crew to the side of them - it was a special video for Vogue Online’s anniversary and they were asking celebrities to join in for funny couple videos.

“Anytime you want to stop, tell me. I’ll make sure those cameras go off,” Harry assured her as he reaches across to kiss her hand before they start, “Just want to show off how pretty my little wife is.”

They had already went over with the production what they need to say and do - it wasn’t over complicated and they have notecards of the question.

As soon as they start recording, Harry’s good at turning on his public persona - warm, confident, and sure.

“Hello, my name is Harry Styles. This is m’wife, YN Styles, and to celebrate Vogue’s anniversary we’re going to play Truth or Drink,” Harry jokingly cracks his knuckles, rings glinting in the light.

“Simple rules. Either you answer the question on the card, which has been written by a fan or you take a shot,” Harry continues, running his hand like a salesmen by the different liquors on the table, “Nervous, my love?”

YN scoffs, reaching for her notecards, “I can’t wait to get you drunk.”

Harry fake gasps, looking comically towards the camera, “You hear that? She’s just trying to loosen me up!”

YN picks the first card, smirking at the words as she flicks her eye over the paper at her husband before asking, “What is the worst team in the league?”

“That’s easy, Dodgers,” Harry replies with a cocky grin that flashes his white teeth, it makes YN want to kiss it off of him.

“Who would have guessed?” YN replies as she discard her question, raising an eyebrow at her husband when he reads his question.

“Okay, darlin’,” He drawls lazily but his eyes are twinkling, “Have any of my teammates made a pass at you? And if yes, who?”

Harry’s obvious by the way he straightens up but, he wanted to know this answer and YN wasn’t going to blast the men all over the internet.

“Pour me a shot of that vodka,” YN says instead, pointing the bottle, “I’ll drink to that question.”

“Are you fuckin’ with me? Have they hit on you?” Harry huffs, trying to get a smile on his face as he pours the shot, “You’re definitely telling me after this game.”

“Ssh, be a good sport for once,” She titters as she takes the shot, tilting her head back and squinting as it burns her throat.

“Okay?” Harry checks as he watches her reaction.

“Mm,” She assures him, picking her next card, “Don’t remember the last time I took a shot or drank for that matter. Next question, do you regret not having a wedding?”

Harry furrows his brow a bit, “Christ, just getting into the questions. Fans sent these? Well, we did have a wedding but it was just you and I. We didn’t have a full wedding though.”

“Yeah, I consider that we did have a wedding but it wasn’t traditional with a lot of people and celebration,” YN agrees, sipping her water to try to get rid of the aftertaste.

“I can answer this. I don’t regret it. It was perfect at the time for us. We didn’t have much money and we had our first baby due. It was still one of the best days of m’life.

“One of the best?” YN teases as she tosses the card.

“I have five of the best days ever,” Harry tells her, his eyes softening, “They day we got married and the days you gave birth to our babies.”

“Softie,” She leans across the table to give him a quick peck which he eagerly accepts with happy grin - it was so obvious how happy they are.

“Let’s see, oh. I like this one,” Harry hums, his dimples deep in his cheeks, “What’s your favorite thing about me physically and your least?”

YN rolls her eyes, “Of course. Physically, I mean it changes day to day but-“

“Darling, we’re married. You can say it’s my di-“

“Harry!” YN interrupts with a giggle, “Shut it. I love your smile and your thighs. Least is definitely how bad your feet stink after baseball.”

“Hurtful,” Harry pouts at her, eyes narrowed a bit but it’s playful, and nods at her to take her turn.

YN nearly chokes when she reads this card, feeling her face get hot, “Er, where was the most public place you’ve ever had a hook-up?”

As their eyes meet, both of their minds go to that dugout in Baltimore or maybe when they fucked on that balcony in Italy.

The question startles a laugh out of Harry, he sits back and spreads his leg open more - like there’s not enough room for his cock - a cheeky smile on his face.

“Want me to answer, darlin’?” Harry goads with a raised brow - he’s not going to answer it, they both know he knows better nor would he want to share, “Because I can think of quite a few of ‘em.”

“Up to you,” She says instead but smiles when he pours himself a shot of tequila.

He swigs it fast, grimacing as he did before he puts the little glass down, “Okay, apparently that was dhe warm up and the question will get more invasive now and we’ll really see who gets smashed.”

“What’s your favorite position? And not in baseball,” Harry asks with his tongue peeking out to lick his lips - they are both way too private to answer sexual questions and they already know them all.

Harry know how much she being in his lap while he fucks up into her, slow, and with his mouth planting lovebites all over her tits.

Or when he gives it to her hard from behind and wraps her hair in his hand - it all depends on the mood.

YN shifts nervously in her chair, glaring as his eyes twinkling, “Pour me another shot.”

Harry laughs louder at her response, filling it back, and watching as she shoots it back without hesitation.

“Why wouldn’t you answer that?” He teases as he leans across the table to thumb at smudge of lipstick off her chin where it smeared - only if you were watching closely could you see his thumb ghost over her lips quickly.

“Because I don’t not want our four children to ever know that answer and this is going on YouTube,” YN replies, rearranging herself on the chair.

“S’cause you’re the best mama,” Harry says sincerely and not for the cameras - just for her.

YN gives him a soft look for his comment before biting her lips at her next question, “How old were you when you lost your virginity and with who?”

Harry actually feels himself blushing.

He was proud that he had only been with his wife but he didn’t want the magazines to overanalyze his sex life - everyone knew he was pan but not demi.

He takes that shot back quickly without question.

“Which wife do you dislike the most out of my teammates,” Harry’s giggling as he reads it because he knows her next move.

“Are these all drink? I can’t answer that either,” YN huffs as she pours herself another and chugs if before slamming the glass on the table.

“What is the worst thing about playing for The Yankees?”

Drink.

“What’s the most expensive thing I ever surprised you with and how much did it cost?”

Drink.

“How much did you make last year?”

Drink.

At this point on, Harry was finally starting to feel a bit tipsy as his cheeks were getting pink and his limbs felt loose.

YN was three sheets to the wind after downing the shots in short succession, especially after not having drank in a very long time.

“S’mine?” YN giggles girlishly as she pulls out the card, “What is-“

“No, baby,” Harry cuts her off with a chuckle, he’s looking at her so fucking fondly, “You just asked me, s’my turn. Do you want more kids?”

YN’s eyes get comically wide at that question, “Did you write that question?”

“I didn’t, darling. But I sure am curious about your answer,” He goads, it’s obvious he wants the answer to this along with the viewers.

“Mm, I don’t think I want to answer this,” She murmurs sheepishly as she pours another shot and swigs it.

“Really? You’re not gonna answer?” Harry’s face falls, his bottom lip pouting out with a puppy dog look.

“I can, it’s just that-“

“None of that. M’just kidding, you already if you want more I’ll give ‘em to you,” Harry interrupts, his accent getting more distinct and deep as the alcohol flows through his system, “C’mere.”

YN gets up and steps over to the other side of the table where Harry wraps an arm around his waist and pulls her down onto his lap.

“Why didn’t I attend the MLB draft with you?” Harry situates her so she’s leaned back against his chest, she was getting sweaty for the liquor.

“It was because you were pregnant with our first baby,” Harry replies back, his hand ghosting over her belly like he’s remembering where the bump was.

Harry chuckles adoringly, kissing her temple before handing her the last card - he whispers in her ear, “I love you.”

“Okay, let’s see. Which of our babies is the most likely to become a baseball player?” Harry hums as he flicks the card carelessly.

YN’s eyes get a bit shimmery, lips turning down, “I want to go home and see my babies now. I think we’ve been gone for too long. What if Ezra’s sad? I need to check my phone to see if your mum-“

“We can go,” He murmurs quietly before nodding towards the cameras to cut - he will make sure that last little bit is edited out.

YN hadn’t been drunk in so long, she wasn’t an emotional drunk the times she had before she’d had kids but now she was so emotional.

Harry thanks the crew and helps YN put her jacket on, “Wha-What if Briar didn’t eat? Cash hasn’t been sleeping well. Easton has that dentist appt-“

“Sweetheart,” Harry interjects with a laugh as he guides her into their awaiting SUV to be driven back to the hotel, “We’re staying in the night in the city. The babies are fine. Everything is okay, I promise.”

“Do you think I’m a good mom?” She sniffles as she burrows in his chest, “S’just Ezra gets so anxious and I try my best but sometimes I feel like a bad mom.”

“Hey,” Harry says firmly, “You’re the best mama. To all of the kids, to Ezra. He loves you so so much. You do such an amazing job of parenting him. He’s perfect and healthy. You couldn’t be doing any better. Best decision of my life was to have babies with you.”

YN glances him up and down to make sure he’s being truthful before she launches herself at him, their lips connecting harshly.

“Mm, want you. Look so good tonight,” YN drawls out as her hand comes roughly to palm at his crotch.

“Jesus, mama,” Harry mumbles before pulling back, “Let’s get you back to the hotel for bath and to sober up a bit, yeah? Then I’ll give you whatever you want.”

The Styles’ Night Out

The face of the New York Yankees, Harry Styles, stepped out with his wife YN in New York City last night.

The couple seemed to be having a romantic night at The Four Seasons without their brood of four children - Easton, Cash, Ezra, and Briar.

Fans and the internet alike have been going wild for a new video of the couple playing Truth or Drink for Vogue Online.

Harry and YN stayed mum on most of the more sensitive topics such as sex but were open about their small wedding and what they enjoy about each other.

However, Styles made is no secret how infatuated he is with his wife and his desire to have more children.

People were posting everywhere about the video (26 million views later),cooing over how happy they appeared and female fans jealous of the moment YN sat on his lap.

The couple were last spotting after the filming, going back to their hotel, where Harry looked noticeably more tousled after the car ride with his missus - a few lipstick prints on his mouth and cheeks.

Styles is set to kick off another successful game tonight with the Pittsburgh Pirates at his home field in the city.

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astyrial · 7 months

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beekeeper of my heart spencer reid x fem!reader (meeting) synopsis: spencer makes a visit to an expert word count: 1.2k warnings: cussing masterlist | requests are open

"and what might you be doing here, agent... reid?"

spencer slowly crosses his arms in front of his chest, as if he's attempting to seem more intimidating than he ever was. he purses his lips as his eyes peer around the front porch of your house, "i'm here regarding information about bees and their poison. i read up on the topic, but my boss wanted me to meet someone who knows more about it. there was a murder just outside of town and the deciding factor was bee venom."

you raise your eyebrows, realizing that words spread quickly in a small town. "ahh, so you've been told of my little bee farm," a soft smile spreads across your face, your shoulder resting against the doorframe.

"yes, the chief says he occasionally buys honey down here. so, the main component of venom responsible for pain in vertebrates is a toxin called melittin," spencer starts explaining what information he needed to know, starting off with facts that he already knows.

a little part of you is impressed of his knowledge of bees. while the other half of you wonders what he possibly needs to know that he couldn't research on the internet. you bite your lip, widening your eyes a little as you wait for the agent to give you some sort of explanation.

spencer uncrosses his arms, instead putting his hands on his hips, "well, there seems to be a therapy called apitherapy. bee venom is used to help with arthritis and such, but it isn't widespread. so, the reason i came here was to ask if you know anything more about it."

"about bee venom therapy? i mean, i know that people use honey for a lot of health purposes. but not venom. especially because it can cause anaphylaxis and different allergic reactions. shoot that up in someone's veins and it could go terrible..." you shake your head, shrugging your shoulders, unsure how you could help the agent at all.

he looks down for a second, scrunching up his face a little. that was certainly not the answer he was looking for. you sigh, remembering a conversation you had with a fellow beekeeper who lived a town over, "i do remember talking to another beekeeper who lives about fifteen minutes out? why don't you come in from the heat and i can explain the rest," you stand back, ushering him in.

"that's only if you want to of course, we can stand outside too," you offer, realizing that you have an arsenal of bees and could very well be a suspect of what seems to be a rather heinous crime.

spencer nods, taking a couple steps into your front room. it's filled with greenery and flowers, including a rug that is in the shape of a leaf. it's bright and clearly an homage to your love of nature and bees. he turns around to see you shutting the screen door, letting the air in.

"so, you can have a seat if you like," you sit down yourself, not evening waiting for him to decide to start talking, "his name was john, uh no, his name was steve johnson. he loved bees, has millions of them probably. it's easy to get different species and stuff over the internet. well, he reached out to me to have my buckfast bees."

he ends up sitting down, leaning forward to hear more about these 'buckfast' bees. it's definitely for his thirst for knowledge, and not the sweet aroma that settles around you. it oddly resembles that of honey.

"well it doesn't have a deadlier sting, but it's a bit more aggressive. and i'm curious, naturally, so i ask why he would want my buckfast bees. i only have one colony and would rather not trade them. he mentions that sometimes he gets bears, total lie by the way," you laugh, the thought of bears where you live? ridiculous.

sure you had a couple of bear sightings, but none ever got close to your farm. and when you did speak to steve before, he had always agreed with you. "we both rarely get bears by our colonies. well, he wanted them to defend the rest of the colonies. after i said no, he said, quote, 'fuck you, i have an africanized colony in line anyway'. so i hung up."

spencer raises his eyebrows for a second, his eyes wide in wondering what any of this could mean. he waits for a second, trying to think of what he could say in response to your comments.

"africanized bees are aggressive, they send signals so more than one sting. sometimes they're even called killer bees. most people don't have them in the united states. so, hopefully that helps you. not saying steve did it, but he's the first person that came to mind..." you finish, wearily giving him a smile.

he returns a smile in your direction, scratching the back of his neck, "yes thank you for all of your help. i'll have my team look into it, in the meantime, for curiosity's sake. could you show me your beehives? we don't have many cases that include things like this."

you nod happily, given the chance to show anyone your beehives, you take it. especially when the person asking isn't from your hometown and is interesting.

"absolutely agent reid, if you follow me out my back door i can give you a look see," you usher him over, walking out of the room and unlocking the back door. before the two of you leave the house, spencer quickly says something.

"spencer, you can call me spencer. i get called agent and doctor way too much," he waves his hand while following you out the back door. much to his surprise you agree with him, mentioning your phd in sciences regarding bees and wasps, "oh so you're a doctor then?"

you shrug, "a doctor feels as though i'm in medical work, but it's still a title i hold. now, doctor spencer, here are my bees."

in front of the two of you sits a row of hives. some are farther away than others, based on species of honey bees. some are flying around the area and landing on flowers that are growing wildly. you look back at a twinge of wonder on spencer's face. it's small but with the sunset's hues it's quite memorable.

"it's amazing, i'm not one for being near insects but it really is amazing to see. thank you," spencer turns around to look at you as well, his eyes resting comfortably on yours.

despite having only met you for fifteen minutes maybe, spencer can't help but feel as if he's known you forever. your voice and the way it carries through the air to feels all too familiar for a woman he's just met. especially over a mysterious case that the bau wouldn't normally pick up.

"it was nice to meet you, granted the circumstances of course, doctor y/n," spencer gives you a sweet smile, unsure of what to say next.

of course he'd like to say something suave. something to convince you to visit him in virginia. “thanks doctor spencer. if you ever wanna extract some honey with me, let me know. i have an extra beekeeper suit.”

and just maybe he didn’t need to be suave, he just needed to be a little sweet.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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pedrostylez · 5 months

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How The Crow Flies - pt. 3

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 3.1k

Chapter Summary: You come across a man in the jungle that can't keep his hands off of you

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. dismissive Javier, alcohol, drinking, mentions of SA, illudes to dubcon, SMUT!!!! oral (m receiving), masturbation, Javier has kinda nice thoughts, derogatory use of whore, some manhandling

A/N: I thought I was going to post this on Friday and then the weekend got away from me...whoopsies. Anyways, heed the warnings, and enjoy

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981

The air was sticky in your crash house, decorated with small, shiny trinkets to make it look like home. Javier despised it, a deep part of him wanted to knock everything off the shelves into boxes, drag you back to the embassy and have you sit in his office until he could send you back to Miami.

He despised all the things you tried to do with this house, even though it was under his orders. Make it look like you’ve moved in, he had said, pose as a whore and do what you have to do to get in that house. He could slap himself for saying something like that now.

You do an excellent job of distracting him though, on your knees at the edge of your bed, letting him lay out in front of you heaving. “Quiedra, please.” He huffs, jaw clenched and breathing heavily through his teeth. His hands are fisted in the sheet below him, thighs jumping with every pump of your fist. Your lips are puckered over his head, dribbling out his come over him as you continue a firm grasp.

He’s clenching so tightly he’s not sure if the sound he hears is his teeth cracking or if it's his hand coming up to hold you by your shoulder. Shaking fingers, gripping into the muscle to hold on to something for dear life, his eyes opening briefly to look down at you.

She’s so beautiful.

He feels his eyes roll back, the orgasm continuing past what he thought he could ever feel. “Fuck, honey–”

“You’re alright, Javi.” You whisper, kissing his shaft and slowing down your hand, smiling.

God, how is she smiling right now?

Javier takes deep breaths, trying to slow down his heart rate and kneading his fingers into your tight muscle. He’s trying to figure out how to control himself. “Did that feel good?”

He laughs, breathy and in shock. The sweat dripping from his hair trails down his neck feels cool against his skin, snapping him back to your lips that are spread in a smile at his softening cock. “Yes.”

“Good.” You release him, sliding a hand from his hip up to his chest, causing him to shiver. Your nails dig in, scratching at him lightly before standing and leaning over him. “I have to go.”

A quick kiss to his cheek, his mouth now slack with the soreness from clenching so tightly. He has the where-withall to reach out to you, sliding his hand around your waist and pulling you close. “No–no, what? Where are you going?”

You laugh, bright and easy. “I have to get back to work. You know, Lorea? The guy you want me to trail–”

“Don’t leave.” He pulls on you again, your balance unsure as you rests one knee on the bed by his leg. You’re wearing no top, but your skirt is still zippered in place, heels still on your feet. You reach around him and come back with your bra. “Let me take care of you.”

Despite his attempt to sway you from not putting on your bra, a wrestle of sorts before you scoff at him and give him a push on to the bed, you’ve secured it behind your back and tilted your head at him. “We have a job to do. I helped you clear your head, now get back on track.” You affirm, stepping to the floor and away from him.

He sits back up, watching you step over to his dresser where your shirt was thrown. “You don’t want anything, hermosa?” He questions, shaking his head and standing up to look for his own clothes. He steps behind you, your fingers clasping a button and giving him enough time to press his hands to the dresser and invade your space. “Not even my mouth?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? You said just last week my tongue was very talented when I did–”

“Javi.” You’re firm, blood rushing to your cheeks before smoothing out. “We have a job to do.”

“But I know you would taste fucking devine right now.” He growls in your ear, his hand reaching around your body and pulling you flush to him. He kisses at your ear, making you laugh again before giving him a final push.

“We have to get in there and try to find these guys. I don’t want them to get away.”

“Yes boss.” He mumbles, feeling the sting of your slap on his arm before grabbing for you again.

He wants to wrap you up again, press his mouth to yours and taste himself and convince you to lay down for him. That shiny bobble on your night stand stares at him, instead making him watch you finish dressing, his blood pressure rising again.

“I’ll be gone for the week.” You announce, turning to him with your keys in hand. “Yovanna got me a meeting with Lorea’s head bodyguard.”

His first impulse is to ask what that entails, but he swallows it down and nods, walking past you to the door. “Let me know how it goes, when you get back.”

You’re staring at him, what he thinks is shock in your eyes gone once you blink. You nod, following him out into the new light of the day. “I’ll meet you at the grocery store next Sunday.”

Once you’ve gone your own way, his back to you, a nagging thought in the back of his mind slaps him. I should have told you to be careful.

Frankie’s boots are soaked through, socks cold and sticking to his toes that make him cringe if he thinks too long about it. His rain jacket is barely helping, hood falling in his face from the weight of rain drops, but he can still see you.

Your legs, god damn it, less than twenty feet away as he lays in the mud like an animal just looking on.

He knew you would show up eventually, but he didn’t think he would have to lay eyes on you through the scope of his gun, and watch as you stepped into the security house with a smile on your face.

He takes a deep breath, sighing before lowering his scope and settling into the mud. He had dreamed of you every night since just the flash of you outside the bar, cursing himself every time he woke up next to Benny or Will, still passed out and unaware of his wandering thoughts.

He was still stuck on what he dreamed last night. You on your back, hands curling his hair around your fingers, a knowing smirk gracing your lips as he gets closer and closer–

Frankie silently slides back through the mud, farther away from the trail as Will comes over his ear piece.

“Alright boys, she’s in there. We have maybe 10 minutes before she comes back out.”

“Only 10? Give him some credit.” Redfly’s muffled snicker reaches Frankie’s ears, and he attempts to not roll his eyes even though no one can see him.

“Let’s not risk it.” Will chuckles through the speaker, silence taking over before again. “Fish, keep an eye out.”

“Heard.” Frankie mumbles over his microphone, eyes scanning the wooden door before moving over to the window.

You surprise him when he sees you, smiling at the head of security and turning toward the pane of glass. Frankie doesn’t move, eye tracking your every movement. When your eyes glance up through the glass, seemingly on his, Frankie holds his breath.

You turn your head to face the man you’re talking to, giggling heard through the walls before the hem of your skirt is lifting over your ass. Frankie can’t see much-the tops of your thighs, your cleavage pressing against the glass, your palms holding you up. He feels his mouth water at how your lips are parted, glossy in the sunlight streaming in.

Frankie shifts uncomfortably, chatter is his ear forgotten as he continues to watch you through the window. He’s trying to stay focused and not get turned on by watching you until your eyes snap to his, that smirk from his dreams appearing in front of him.

Your eyes are trained on him, a full smile appearing as you moan obnoxiously for the man behind you.

God, how is she smiling right now?

Frankie is tempted to reach into his own pants, covered in dirt and filthy just to let you know how you make him feel. The thought crosses his mind, shifting again to undo his pants when he hears, “How’s it going in there, Fish?”

He clears his throat, shaking his head and bringing his hand up to his lapel. “She’s…she’s keeping him occupied.”

“I want to switch with Fish next time.” Benny teases through the earpiece, silence engulfing Frankie again as your fingers reach down to the window sill, clenching around the frame and throwing your head back.

Frankie hears labored breaths and grunts, your own face pinching in what he thinks may be ecstasy, and he clicks on his microphone. “He’s finishing up, boys.”

“Wrap it up.” Redfly huffs through his ear, anxiousness streaming through Frankie as he watches you pull your dress down again, tilting your head to speak to the security guard before stepping away from the window.

Frankie holds his breath as the door opens, your nod of thanks being greeted with an envelope and smile that makes his body cringe inwardly. You stand in the walkway, waiting for the door to shut before you turn around, taking steps in Frankie’s direction.

Shaky steps down the path as the rain hits your face, you’re holding back tears that you think will spill at any moment.

You knew you would have to go through with this when Yovanna prepped you before.

Big smiles, and I suggest no underwear, okay?

You clench your jaw, shaking yourself as you follow the path down the stairs and through some overgrown brush. Your ankles wobble, stopping for a moment to try and collect yourself and look down at your heels. The straps have come loose, and you groan at the prospect of having to bend over and fix them.

You glance over your shoulder, no longer in eye sight of the door and make the decision to crouch down. Before you’re able to fully crouch, a sharp pressure squeezes around your bicep, pulling you from the path.

You don’t make a sound, eyes widening as you stumble to the left. When your face is met with a solid chest you grunt, furrowing your brow and trying to push away. The pressure increases, causing you to squeak out.

“What are you doing?” You say quietly, not daring to look up.

The man in front of you is dirty. What was once a gray shirt seems to be covered in muck, rain water soaking through all of his layers that cause his boots to squish as he shuffles. He has dry spots where his belt is secure around his hips, but not much else is visible.

His hands tighten around your arms, causing you to wince again. “Are you the hired whore?” He gruffs out, clearing his throat at the end.

You furrow your brow, unsure how he knows this information. The question pops out before you have a chance to filter it. “Are you a security guard?”

“That’s not your concern.” He says quickly, turning you around and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t move.”

You hold your breath, looking out past the grown brush and trees that he seemed to be hiding in, rain beginning again on the main path. You shiver involuntarily, wondering briefly if this is where your cover is going to be well and truly blown. You’re not sure you can do this again so soon after pretending the first time.

His hands, rough and calloused run down your side to the hem of your dress, curling around the fabric roughly and pulling it up. “If I feel your pussy, will you be wet?”

You swallow roughly, shaking your head. “What? No.”

“Wet for them, or wet for me?” He ignores you, chuckling to himself as his fingers dance over your skin.

“No one.”

He clicks his tongue at you, sliding his hand around from the outside of your leg to the inside, trailing up to where your panties are pulled taught against your skin; a size too small to keep everything in place. You had decided against Yovanna’s advice, and while it had been unhelpful moments ago, you breathed a sigh of relief for the thin barrier for the man behind you.

His fingers press against your flesh at your mound, and you stiffen. “I’m not a security guard.” He whispers in your ear, the smile you are convinced is there coming into your vision as you spin around and away from him.

You push him away, hard and angry, stumbling backwards until your ass hits the ground with a muted thud. “Get the fuck away from me.”

“What? You’ll do it for them and not for me?” He smiles, squinting at you briefly as if assessing you before taking a step toward you. He freezes, tilting his head like he is listening to something, reaching for his lapel and speaking into a microphone you hadn’t noticed before. “Yeah, I’ll head your way.”

You watch him adjust himself, eyes widening at the obvious package he is hiding below his pants before frowning at his outstretched hand. “I don’t need your help.”

He keeps his hand out toward you, smirking again before grabbing at your arm. He lifts you without issue, holding you steady and observing your arms for a moment before taking a healthy step away from you. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

You’re slightly dumbfounded, confused and unsure how to proceed. He’s not a security guard, or part of the Lorea group, but he’s waiting in the dirt for…something. The microphone on his lapel is the only polished part of him, the gun tossed to the side military grade.

Your eyes flash to the matted hair around his ears, darker in the rain, but reminding you of the other day. “You know Santiago?”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Pretty quick for a whore.” He comments, hands resting on his hips for a moment before looking over his shoulder. “Was that a yes to tomorrow?” He questions again, his eyes raking up and down your figure before tilting towards your tiny purse.

“I don’t know.” You say breathily, stepping backward toward the walkway but refusing to take your eyes off of him. Your skin is heating in what feels like a trap, the straps of your clutch creaking under the pressure of your hand. A tiny hand gun rests behind the zipper, and you don’t want him to take it from you.

His eyes are dark in the cover of the jungle, lips pink and enticing even though he had manhandled you already more than you preferred. The dirt and rain covering him left little to the imagination, body strong and broad making you feel slightly weak if you let your eyes trail down too far.

He licks his lips, watching you survey him. He smirks pointing to your purse as if knows what you’re carrying. “We’ll play again the next time you’re here.”

You scoff, feeling slightly dizzy at the prospect of being caught so early, leaning a hand against a tree. “And what if I don’t want to?”

He pauses, watching you for a moment before clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “I’ll tell Santiago you’re not some whore. And he’ll tell his little bitch…what will that do for you? I think you need to be in there just as much as I do.”

You swallow, fear coursing through your veins. Your cover can so quickly be blown, and you don’t know how to avoid what seems to be the inevitable. You straighten your spine, closing your eyes briefly before training them on him again.

He’s crossed his arms, smug in his discovery. “Who are you, then?” You ask, shrugging your shoulders and crossing them.

He smiles, bright teeth reflecting back at you. “I’ll tell you next time.” He amends, reaching for his weapon and nodding at you before turning his back and slinking through the jungle, unafraid of you or anything that he may come upon.

Frankie stares at himself in the mirror, fresh out of the shower of the motel they are all staying at. He still feels dirty, somehow, even though he stood under the stream of luke-warm water long enough for it to run cold. He doesn’t want to acknowledge that it is because he is already too deep into thinking about you.

His arms are sore as he twists them to see if he has any bruises, any bites from insects while laying in the mud. Your face flashes in his vision as he does this, how your arms were smooth under his pressured touch.

Frankie wonders what was in your bag, how your fingers tightened around the handles when you realized he was observing.

You were not a whore, that much he was certain of.

Questions began streamlining through his mind, of what exactly your motive was. Who were you, exactly? Were you after the money like they were? Were you scheming with Yovanna to screw them up?

He closes his eyes and leans against the sink, cool porcelain against his palms grounding him enough for the questions to disappear, and the images of your legs as you bent over in front of the window, the sway of your chest with every thrust of the man behind you.

His hand shakily wrapped around his stiffened cock, holding back a groan at the feeling and wishing someone else would be doing it for him. He squeezed himself, adjusting his grip before beginning a steady rhythm and the ghost feeling of your ass against him.

Frankie revels in the memory, having to bite his lip to keep himself quiet after realizing he was being loud. Benny is just beyond the door, with the TV on high and the microwave beeping that a frozen meal is half ready. He speeds up as he remembers how your eyes raked over him, embarrassment flooding your face at being caught. As far as he was concerned, you wanted this too.

Frankie finished with a muffled groan, ropes of his come covering his lower stomach and his hand releasing himself to look again in the mirror. Red faced and water from the shower still dripping from his hair.

He shook his head and cleared his throat, wiping away the evidence of himself and flushing it down the toilet.

Your eyes locking on his through the window had his jaw clenching, making a quick decision. Whatever you wanted didn’t matter, because he wanted you.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales smut #joel miller x reader #frankie morales #javier peña #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #frankie morales x reader #tw sa implied #tw sa mention #tw dubcon

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avastrasposts · 8 months

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The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 28**

Sorry for the slight delay in this chapter, it's a bit of a "travel" chapter and although I had a couple of scenes I wanted to add, the rest of the chapter just didn't flow. But here it is, finally!

Series Master List

Chapter 29 - Warnings have their own post - Word count: 6.9k

The weather outside the school is a crisp, early fall day, and as you all make your way towards the interstate heading north you relish being away from the city again. The route chosen takes you away from suburban areas as much as possible so for hours you walk through green fields and patches of forest where the leaves have started changing color. It’s like a picturesque fall hike, except all seven of you are armed, guns ready, and walking with your heads on swivels.

Pope’s taken the lead, Joel behind him, not willing to let Pope be all in command. Frankie and you follow Joel, and Tommy brings up the rear behind Will and Benny. By midday you’ve covered a lot of ground and take a break by a small lake. You gratefully sink down onto the ground with your back against a log. The ache in your shoulder is a dull throb and you’re trying to get by without any more painkillers.

“Just take the damn pills, cariño,” Frankie says when you shake your head.

“We don’t have that many left, what if we need them for something more serious?” you object and he raises his eyebrows.

“You can be all brave and stoic when we’re inside a QZ, out here I need you to be as good as you can be with that shoulder.” He holds the pills out again, along with his canteen and you accept them.

“ ‘Stoic’, big word there, Frankie’,” you tease him as he watches you swallow the pills.

“The Gladiator film,” he says, grinning, “Marcus Aurelius was a stoic philosopher.”

“How do you even remember that?” you ask incredulously and Frankie gives you a crooked smile as he sits down next to you.

“I’ve watched that film like thirty times.”

“Director’s cut with commentary,” Benny chips in, grinning as he sits down on the other side of you. “He was obsessed!”

“How did I not know about this obsession?” you ask, laughing as Frankie reaches across and slaps Benny’s cap off.

“It’s a masterpiece, and the Academy agrees with me because it got an Oscar for Best Film and-,” Frankie says.

“No it didn’t, Erin Brockowich won the Oscar for Best Film that year,” Benny interrupts, “I remember Julia Roberts on stage.”

“Erin Brockowich didn’t win an Oscar for Best Film!” Frankie protest, “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

“No, you’re out of your mind if you think Gladiator beat Erin Brockowich, that film was awesome!”

“It was alright, but it did not win an fucking Oscar for Best Film!” Frankie throws his hands up, “I can’t fucking believe you, Benny, you’re delusional!”

“Russel Crowe won an Oscar for Best Actor, I’ll give you that, he was awesome. ‘What we fight in life, dies in eternity!’ “ Benny quotes in his best Russel Crowe impersonation.

“Jesus, Benny, that’s not even the quote!” Frankie sighs with a roll of his eyes as you chuckle.

“If we had a smartphone with an internet connection, I’d solve this straight away,” you say, giving Frankie a calming pat on his thigh. “But you’ll just have to hope we find a library with an encyclopedia.”

“I’m telling you, Erin Brockowich won an Oscar for Best Film, Frankie!” Benny says and Frankie mumbles something undoubtedly rude in Spanish and pushes himself up.

“I’m gonna get some lunch, I’ll get you a bowl too, cariño.” With a scowl at Benny he stalks off and you can’t help but smile at the mundane argument between the two men. Benny leans over and chuckles.

“I totally know Gladiator won the Oscar for Best FIlm, but I just love winding him up.”

“Benjamin Miller, you are a nuisance!” you laugh as Benny grins and digs into his own lunch.

You continue on after lunch, until darkness starts to settle. You find a farmstead on the outskirts of a small town and once it’s cleared you all settle down for the night. You’re excused from the watch rosta again and sleep through the night while the guys take turns standing guard. You wake up early again, Frankie had the second to last watch and he’s sleeping soundly, his arm thrown over your waist. He stirs as you shift under him, mumbling in his sleep, and you press a kiss to his forehead, making his lips curl in a drowsy smile.

“Go back to sleep, Frankie,” you whisper, and as you pull on your boots, you hear his soft snores start back up.

Joel has the last watch tonight and you find him pacing the yard in front of the farm house, turning as you step through the door.

“Morning,” you say, sitting down on the porch steps as he turns back towards the yard.

“Mornin’ “

“Quiet night?” you ask, looking out over the field beyond the farmstead as Joel turns and paces back across the yard again.

“No one came near us but a few groups of infected moving south in the distance,” he replies, turning and coming back towards you again. He stops and looks down at you, his brow furrowed, looking like he has something on his mind. You wait, looking up at him as his jaw ticks.

“Frankie’s girl,” he says eventually, “Tommy told me. I’m sorry.” His voice is gruff, his eyes not meeting yours, instead scanning the sides of the building.

“Thanks,” you say, “Tommy told me about Sarah, I’m really sorry too, Lucía loved her.”

“Yeah.” He stands still for a beat before he turns and paces back across the yard, stopping at the last building and looking out over the fields.

You remain on the porch, watching his rigid posture, but he doesn’t turn and come back and eventually you hear people moving inside the house and you get up to help with breakfast, leaving him to his vigil.

You made good time yesterday, Pope shows you on the map how far you’ve come.

“We should make it to the Boston QZ before nightfall, but it’ll be slower going today since we’re moving through populated areas,” he says, his finger tracing a line across the map.

“More people, more infected,” you sigh, accepting your backpack from Frankie as he comes over.

“Yeah, we need to be on our toes today,” Pope agrees, “But, there’s seven of us, I’d think twice before I mess with an armed group that large.”

“Let’s hope you’re right, Pope,” Will says, scanning the map next to you, “Let’s head out.”

Pope was right about it being slower going. Only a few miles from the farmstead the suburbs begin, a massive sprawl all around the greater Boston area. The six men quickly fall into a familiar pattern of tactical advancement, you stay close to Frankie, as two men move forwards, covered by the other four, repeating as you move through the neighborhoods. Eventually you leave the suburbs behind and move into Boston, heading towards North End where the QZ is supposed to be located.

As you’re moving across a large street, you and Frankie in front, you suddenly hear a desperate call for help. Frankie immediately holds up his hand to halt the others, Joel moving up next to you. The call is coming from a side street just up ahead and carefully the three of you move forward, the other four covering your backs. As you clear the corner, guns raised, you see the source of the noise, a young boy is trapped underneath a dumpster, his leg jammed and he’s crying out as he pulls on it. Next to him is a teenage girl, trying to shift the heavy dumpster off his leg. The boy cries out as he sees you, his face twisted in pain.

“Please, help!” the girl calls, “my brother’s stuck!” She puts her shoulder against the dumpster and tries to shift it again. You holster your gun and start jogging towards the pair.

“Cariñio, wait!” Frankie calls as he sees you move, following you with his hand out to pull you back.

“Stop!” Joel bellows and yanks Frankie to the side so that they both tumble to the ground behind a car, you look back at them as you step forward and your leg catches on a wire. You barely have time to register your mistake and then a loud explosion knocks you sideways, showering you with dust and debris, you cry out as you land on your injured shoulder. Your vision is filled with dust, your gasping to catch your breath and your ears are ringing, somehow you register the loud noise of gunshots and then Frankie is on you, pulling you backwards across the ground behind a van. His face is swimming in front of yours as you try to focus on what he’s saying, he’s patting you down, lifting your shirt to and checking your abdomen. You shake your head, trying to clear the fog, and slowly Frankie’s voice comes back to you.

“Cariño! Are you hurt? Tell me where it hurts?” He’s kneeling in front of you, his hands on your shoulders, trying to make you focus on him. A corner of your mind registers that the gun fire has stopped and you try to feel if you’re hurting anywhere.

“Only my shoulder,” you croak finally, “I landed on it.” You shake your head again and blink and Frankie swims into view, clearer now. “I think I’m ok, my ears are ringing but nothing is broken.”

“Get her up, we need to move,” Joel barks from somewhere to your right, loud enough to cut through the ringing, and Frankie moves around, putting his arm around your waist and helping you up. You’re dizzy but it fades quickly as you take a few steps towards the street, your legs are a bit shaky but nothing hurts. You glance over at the boy and the girl and see them lying lifeless against the dumpster, multiple bullet wounds leaking blood onto the ground.

“Let’s move!” Pope yells and Frankie pulls you along, as Will comes up on your other side to check if you need support.

“I think I’m good, Will, thanks,” you say, your legs feeling steadier with each step.

“Ok, good,” he replies, glancing over his shoulder at the site of the explosion, his gun raised. “I think you got really lucky, that bomb was made wrong. Lots of noise, very little blast, amateur work.” He catches your eyes and gives you a serious look, “You got really lucky.” You drop your gaze, you know you fucked up, he doesn’t have to say it.

You all move quickly through the next few blocks and shouts go up behind you, prompting Pope to hastily consult the map before making a sharp turn. “Down here, we’ll lose any pursuers in the alleys,” he says and you all jog along as quickly as possible while still checking every street corner. Eventually you come out on a big highway, following it north and slowing down to a walk again.

You walk next to Frankie, he keeps glancing over at you but you keep your eyes on the ground or forward on Joel’s back. You put everyone in danger, especially Frankie, by being thoughtless and trusting. Guilt and shame crawls up your limbs and makes your cheeks burn as you remember how both Frankie and Joel yelled at you. You can’t bring yourself to look at Frankie, his concerned eyes, you know he’ll smooth it over, make it out as if it was a mistake anyone could’ve made. But you know that’s not true, the others saw the trap instantly, you just saw two children who needed help and rushed in without thinking.

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” you finally mumble when you can’t take it anymore. And just like you thought, Frankie immediately takes hold of your hand and strokes soothing little circles onto your skin.

“Don’t worry about it, cariño, you made a mistake, the important thing is you’re not hurt.”

You hear Joel growl in front of you and Frankie looks up at him as Joel throws a scowl over his shoulder at you, “You could’ve gotten us all killed, being so fucking trusting, fucking stupid.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again and you bite your lip, dropping your eyes to your boots as you continue walking. But Frankie tightens his hold on your hand as he glowers at Joel’s back.

“Shut the fuck up, Joel,” he snarls, “she made a mistake and I should’ve been more alert, should’ve seen it first.”

“Well, that’s just the fucking problem isn’t it?!” Joel snaps, stopping and spinning around to face Frankie and you. “You’re so fucking wrapped around her that you don’t pay attention to anything. Could have fucking clickers tearing the rest of us to pieces but you’d only see her. She’s a fucking liability.”

You see Frankie opens his mouth to yell at Joel but Will’s firm hand comes down on his shoulder.

“Ok, that’s enough,” he says, his voice determined and signaling ‘end of fucking discussion’. “We need to keep moving, we’re almost at the QZ. This is not the time or the place.”

Without a word Joel turns on his heel and marches off, overtaking Pope who’s looking at Frankie with his eyebrows raised. Frankie snaps his mouth shut, his teeth grinding together as he starts walking again. He’s still got a hold of your hand but as you walk you pull away from it, taking out your gun as your eyes scan the broken city around you. Joel words sting, there’s a truth to them, Frankie’s said so himself back in Arlington when you asked to help with the smuggling. ‘I wouldn’t be able to focus on what we’re doing if I know you’re out there too’. He only let you join in the operation when you pleaded with him. And now you’d proven how right he’d been, you made a mistake and his focus had been on you, not the potential danger. You grip your gun tighter, keeping your eyes on the horizon as you swallow down the lump in your throat and keep walking, trying to ignore Joel’s furious form in front and Frankie’s worried looks on your left.

Downtown Boston is a mess, a wrecked no man’s land of broken buildings and water filled craters. It’s slow going with many detours and uneasy sprints across streets as you follow the broken signs towards the QZ. You stay behind Frankie, your gun out, pointed down towards the ground, stopping when he stops, running when he runs, making yourself small and invisible, avoiding Frankie’s eyes, and Joel’s scowls.

The QZ gate finally comes into view as the sun sinks behind the broken skyline. You make one final detour on Pope’s suggestion, all of you hiding your rifles and some of your handguns inside a building just out of sight of the gate.

“Better to stash them here than to let FEDRA take them,” Pope says, marking the building on his map as you hide your gun and holster at the bottom of your backpack.

You get to the gate, get scanned and taken to a processing center. Since it’s getting late you’re shown to a temporary housing facility, bunk beds set up in the hall of a community center, and given a thin stew for dinner. After the meager meal you get ready for bed, gratefully pulling off your boots and sinking down on Frankie’s bunk bed, you’ve been assigned the one on top. He puts his arm around you and pulls you in to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Relax now, cariño,” he mumbles, “we got here in one piece.”

“I’m really sorry about today, Joel’s right,” you whisper, guilt welling up inside you again, “I made a huge mistake that could’ve gotten us killed.”

Frankie sighs and lets his hand caress your hair as he pulls you in closer, “You made a mistake because you’re you, you’re not a soldier. And I love that,” he adds when he hears you inhale to interrupt. “You’re not a soldier and you shouldn’t have to be, I should keep you safe and I wasn’t paying enough attention today.”

“Frankie, if you blame yourself for me getting myself blown up today, I’m going to slap you,” you protest and you hear him sigh.

“But it’s true, I promised to keep you safe, both to you and to myself, and I failed.”

You pull yourself from his grip so that you can sit up straight and look at him, “You do not get to blame yourself for that and you can’t keep me safe at all times, that’s impossible.”

“I know, but when I’m right there, right next to you, I should keep you safe, I should’ve seen that fucking trap the second we turned the corner, I need to keep you safe,” his voice shifts, an edge to it you haven’t heard in a few years.

“Frankie…” you say, taking his hand as you open your mouth to argue, to pull him back from where he’s heading, but he interrupts, cutting you off.

“I need to keep you safe, you know that,” his eyes are pleading with you, “you know it’s all I have, you’re all I have. If I can’t keep you safe then…then,” he shrugs, shaking his head, “then nothing. I’m nothing. After Lucía…” he trails off, and you cup his face in your hands and lean against his forehead. “You know how close I came to leaving you because I couldn’t keep you safe,” he mumbles, “I have to keep you safe, I have to protect you.”

“I know Frankie, I know,” you stroke his cheeks with your thumbs but you don’t try to argue with him, you don’t try to convince him, you just try to calm him down. “I promise I’ll be more careful too. And we’re safe now, Frankie, we’re both safe.”

“I just wanna keep you safe, hermosa,” he mumbles, putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side and you lean your head on his shoulder again. “I just need to keep you safe.”

You take his other hand and tangle your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb over the bullseye tattoo and you sit in silence while the rest of the room quietens down, people settling down to sleep. Your own eyes are getting heavy and you stifle a yawn.

“I hope we can stay here now,” you mumble as he caresses your hair, his fingertips gently scraping against your scalps.

“Yeah, I hope so, Boston seems good so far,” he looks down at you as you slip further down his shoulder. “Hermosa, don’t fall asleep sitting up, c’mon, get into bed.” He smiles as he nudges you to sit upright again and starts peeling your jacket off. You nod and pull off your hoodie too before climbing up into the top bunk. Frankie stands up and tucks you into your sleeping bag and cups your cheek, his lips finding yours in a soft kiss.

“Sleep well, cariño, sweet dreams.” He chuckles softly as your eyes close before he’s even finished speaking, pressing his lips to your forehead and settling down in the bottom bunk.

FEDRA in Boston seems to have the procedure of admitting people down to an efficient art form. It only takes a few hours the next day for you all to be assigned housing, ration cards and told to report to the assignment officer in two days time. The Boston QZ is located in the city’s North End, narrow streets lined by centuries old red brick buildings and surrounded on three sides by water. You’ve all been assigned apartments in the same building, Pope, Will and Benny in one apartment, Joel and Tommy in another and Frankie and you in a small one bedroom place on the top floor overlooking Old North Church.

Frankie pulls you into his chest the second the door closes behind you. You’ve just managed to drop your bag on the floor when his arms circle around you and the cool tip of his nose presses against your neck. You hear him inhale deeply, probably smelling almost a week’s worth of dirt and sweat on your skin and you shift under him, feeling the need for a shower.

“I stink Frankie,” you giggle as he holds you tighter when you squirm under him.

“I don’t fucking care, I let you shower last time I had you alone,” he growls, “you smell great to me, you’re my favourite smell in the world.”

“Not aviation fuel?” you tease him and he chuckles into your hair. “Close second, hermosa.”

He’s walking you backwards into the new apartment, guiding you into a room that turns out to be the kitchen and with a firm grip on your waist, he lifts you up onto one of the counters.

“Look at this, perfect height and everything,” he grins as he pushes your legs apart, making room for himself between them and pulling you closer. You’ve still got your boots on, and your jacket, and you’re giggling as he starts tugging at the sleeves as he buries his face against the crook of your neck, placing wet kisses on your salty skin. When he uses his teeth, nipping that spot just under your ear, your giggles turn into a gasp and he bites harder, making you moan so that he can feel the sound come from your throat. You fight with your sleeves, finally freeing yourself and throwing your jacket on the floor and tangling your hands in Frankie’s soft curls, pushing off his cap and pulling his lips up to yours. The back of your head thumps against the cupboard behind you when he meets your kiss, his tongue greedily licking into your open mouth and pushing you back. When his hands roam under your t-shirt and caress along your sides, up your back, his fingers feel hot on your skin, making you shiver with pleasure and you tilt your head back with a soft moan. Frankie lets his mouth leave yours and instead sucks a mark into your neck, the soft tip of his tongue coming out to taste the goosebumps his scraping teeth leaves behind.

He pulls away enough to pull the t-shirt over your head and you reach out to tug off his shirt too, to be honest, it stinks, as does yours, they both end up on the floor. His skin is still tanned and golden from the day you spent on the boat, his freckles sprinkled over his shoulders and chest and before he claims your skin again, you lean forward and smooth your hands over the wide expanse of his shoulders. Frankie’s hands are stroking your back, up into your hair, letting his nails scrape along your scalp as you pull him closer and trail wet kisses between his freckles. His skin tastes like salt and dust, the unwashed cotton of his t-shirt leaving its own scent, but underneath you can still smell him. You can feel his throat hum when your lips move up over his Adam's apple and into his scruffy beard, nosing against the sweet bare patches that never fill in.

“Do I stink, cariño,” he says and you can hear the smile in his voice and you nod, letting your lips wander down along his throat again, your hands slipping down over his chest.

“You taste like salt and smell like sweat,” you murmur into his skin, enjoying the warmth that’s radiating from him, the stillness in the apartment and the calm that comes from being safe and having time. And you take your time, Frankie standing still between your legs, his hands in your hair, letting your fingertips map out a path between his freckles that you follow with your mouth. Tasting him slowly, your tongue slipping over his skin, the pebbles on his throat, the hollow just at the base. You test the give of his flesh, biting lightly like you always do, until he hums with pleasure, egging you on to bite down harder. Your mouth finds a soft spot, just beneath his collar bone, and your tongue caresses it. When the pads of your fingers drag across his dark nipples as your teeth graze his skin, biting down, he hums again, a hushed moan at the back of his throat. The sound, his soft little whine, sends a shiver down your spine, making you grip your legs around his narrow hips, heat pooling in your core and you let your fingers slip down his soft belly until you find the coarse trail of dark hair that leads down under his jeans.

He lets you undo his belt and buttons, the zipper coming down as you cup your hand over the bulge in his tight boxers.

“Cariño,” he groans, your fingers tracing the outline of his hard cock as his breath stutters, “fuck, that feels good…” he drops into the crook of your neck, his mouth breathing hot air over your skin as you continue to tease him through the warm cotton. His hands have been kneading your hips through the denim of your jeans but now he moves them onto your thighs, stroking his thumbs up along the inside towards your core and up to your belt, tugging at it. He makes quick work of it even when he has to stop and groan as your fingers become more firm around him. You lift your hips and he pushes your jeans down your legs, cursing as they catch on your boots.

“Take them off, Frankie,” you say, palming his heavy length again, pulling a deep growl from him as he bites down on your shoulder, making you whine and squeeze him in response.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling away and crouching down to untie your laces, quickly pulling each boot off, letting your jeans fall on the floor before he kicks off his own boots and jeans.

“Counter or bed?” he asks, pulling your legs around his waist again, his hard length pushed up against your wet folds.

“We’re not gonna last long enough to get to the bed,” you say and he grins, seeking out your mouth as he feels your fingers wrap around his cock and give it a few firm strokes, letting the precum coat the blunt head.

“Probably not, I’m-” Frankie’s reply gets stuck in his throat as he groans, his hips thrusting into your hand of their own accord. “Fuck, that feels good, hermosa,” he gasps, his cock twitching in your grip.

Guiding him right you look down between your bodies to watch as he pushes in, the stretch making you clench hard around him. He growls, a low rumbling in his throat, his fingers digging into your hips, the slick heat coating his aching hard cock and he feels your pussy pulse around him as you tangle your hands in his hair and pull his mouth to yours. When he starts to move his hips hips he has to squeeze his eyes shut, he wants to fuck you hard, built up tension making his body want to chase release too fast. But you’re just as greedy, he can feel it, your heels digging into his ass, pulling him closer with every thrust of his hips. Your lips slip from his and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, clinging to his shoulders as he slams deep. Every time he bottoms out he grinds against your aching clit, the wiry curls at the base of him slipping across it, making you gasp out hot air over his chest.

“Frankie…” you moan, “harder…please…I’m so clo..ose,” the last syllable comes out as a whine as he plants his feet firm on the kitchen floor, his hands grabbing handfuls of flesh and slamming into your, pushing you up against the cupboard with a panted groan.

“Fuck, so good…” Frankie pants, “feels so good, I won’t…”

He has to bite his lip to stop himself from coming, pistoning into you and listening to your whimpering as he hits the right spot. Your nails dig into his back, your teeth scrape across his shoulder as you seize up and cry out, your high hitting you as he grinds deep into your tight heat. The spasm of your cunt around his aching cock, deep inside you, pushes him over the edge. With a growl he pulls you in even tighter, pushing your hips onto his cock, emptying deep inside as he shivers under the onslaught.

You tilt your head back, breathing heavily as your body relaxes around him. He drops his head forward and your arms come up and cradle him against your chest, pressing kisses to the top of his head as stillness falls over you both, the only sound your breathing, as you slowly calm down.

Later, after showers with soap and shampoo, he carries you to the bedroom and places you naked on the bed and kneels by your thighs. If the first time together after a week traveling was rushed and chasing relief, now it’s slow and calm. A soft bed again, a door to close and lock, no one nearby and no need to stand guard. Frankie does what he loves best, he pushes your legs open with his calloused hands and makes himself at home between them, making you whimper his name while his cock aches under him. As your body arches up and you cry out, he pins you down, buries his tongue inside you, and begs you to let him make you come again and again.

When you finally fall asleep, the sheets are already ruined, your thighs covered in your release and his seed, Frankie’s sweat damp curls a messy halo around his head, the taste of you on his tongue. With your face nestled in the crook of his neck, your head resting on his arm, he pulls the covers over you both and holds you close with his arms circled around you. When you hook your leg over his, he feels like he should simply stay here always, never leave this bed again. Your nose against his throat, warm breath slipping over his chest, your soft waist under his arms and he feels your body rise and fall in a steady rhythm.

He has to keep you safe.

“I talked to Joel yesterday,” Will says one evening, a few weeks after you’ve all arrived in Boston. “He’s been looking into trading around the QZ, talked to some of the people selling stuff to see who’s moving what.”

Frankie and you have joined Will, Benny and Pope in their apartment, continuing your routine of sharing dinners. Tonight it’s your turn to cook and Frankie’s helping you chop up the vegetables while you try to season the rice with what little is available.

“I invited him and Tommy over tonight, after dinner, to see what they have to say, seems Joel’s keen to get into smuggling, they used to do it in the Austin QZ.” Will says, putting down bowls on the kitchen table and knocking Benny’s feet off it at the same time, “Get your stinky, fucking socks off the table, Benjamin.”

“Do you know why they left Austin?” you ask, turning to Will, who’s scowling at his younger brother.

“Tommy got friendly with a group of people who were convinced things were better up north and wanted to join them. Joel said he tagged along to keep an eye on Tommy,” Will replies and Benny nods. “Seems they had a pretty rough journey,” he says, “they lost most of the group, stopped in some QZ:s along the way, moved on when FEDRA got too oppressive or the smuggling got too dangerous.”

“So everyone in the group died until it was only them left?” you ask, seems like you guy got off easy in your journey if that’s how bad it’d been for Joel and Tommy..

“No, they left a few behind in Pittsburgh,” Will says, “Tommy said two of the guys found partners there, one of them had a kid, another one was fed up with running, wanted to take down FEDRA there. Thanks, man.” he sits down at the table and accepts a glass of whiskey from Pope. “I think Tommy wanted to do the same but Joel thought it was a bad idea and got Tommy to leave. They were heading to New York but ran into some trouble and decided it’d be safer to go further north.”

“What kind of trouble?” Pope asks, “New York seems to be the logical choice if you’re leaving Pittsburgh.”

“I didn’t ask,” Will says, shaking his head, “seemed to be a sore point with Joel so I didn’t push it.”

You put the pot of stew on the table and everyone sits down, “So the plan is to start up the way we did in New York?” you ask, “And maybe avoid pissing off any local gangs?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Will nods with a crooked grin, “Joel seemed to have some ideas so maybe he’s heard something about what’s going on.”

Joel does have plenty of ideas you realize when he and Tommy turn up an hour later. Tommy’s been asking around and there’s a couple of people to approach if you’re looking for something not available with ration cards. But Joel’s been more direct, he’s found a route to get outside and tested it, venturing far outside the wall and picking up the rifles and ammo you left out there. He’s also made a connection with the man who runs the private radio in the QZ and figured out which FEDRA soldiers have what weaknesses and who can be exploited for those weaknesses.

“How’d you find out all that,” Will asks as Pope and Frankie exchange a worried glance.

“Asked the right people in the right way,” Joel grunts, stretching out his long legs as he leans back on the couch.

“What do you mean, ‘the right way’?”

Joel eyes Will for a few seconds before he responds, “I ask and make sure they know they need to tell the truth;” he says, his tone curt and crossing his arms over his chest, his face closed off, it’s like watching a shutter come down the way he clenches his jaw tight. There’s a menacing tone to his voice that makes you shudder when he says it and by the way Frankie tilts his head and shoots a quick glance at Pope, you know you’re not the only one who picked up on it.

“Joel, you know I’ve been smuggling for years,” Will says, “We’ve got to be more subtle or FEDRA’s gonna catch on and we haven’t got any protection in place yet.”

“That’s what I’m getting us,” Joel says, “protection. And, speaking of protection,” he looks over at Frankie, he’s sitting next to you as usual, with his arm over your shoulder, “you two can’t go on runs together, you don’t prioritize right when she’s with you and it puts the rest of us in danger.”

“Joel,” Benny interjects, he can see Frankie’s hackles rising, “we came all the way from Arlington and it was never an issue, Fish’s got everyones’ back.”

“She nearly got us killed yesterday,” Joel growls, “because he wasn’t paying attention to covering us, only her. No offense, darlin’,” he says, looking over at you and you’ve never felt less like someone’s ‘darlin’ with the way he’s looking at you, “I’m sure you can handle yourself, but I ain’t working with you and Frankie together when it’s plain as daylight who his first priority is.” Joel shifts his look over to Frankie before he lands on Will, “He’d try to save her even if it was hopeless, he’s too focused on her.”

“Well, I guess that’s us out then, Will,” Frankie growls just as low as Joel in response, “because I’m not letting her go out on a run without me.”

“She’s a good shot and a great look out, Joel,” Pope interjects, looking at you and giving you a small smile, “I’d work with her any day. And Fish, I trust him with my life,” Pope looks over at Joel again, “we need both of them.”

“Like I said,” Joel is standing up, getting ready to leave, “I’m sure she can handle herself and I know Frankie’s as skilled as any of you guys, but I don’t trust them together, she makes him unfocused and I ain’t risking my life for it.”

Frankie opens his mouth to snarl something, but Will’s quick nod at him makes him snap his mouth shut while Tommy stands up and joins Joel at the door.

“Thanks for the whiskey, see y'all tomorrow,” he says, giving a wave as Joel disappears out the door and he follows, an uncomfortable silence falling over the room when they’re gone. You’re chewing on the inside of your cheek, your eyes on your hands and you feel Frankie’s fingers flex around your shoulder. He inhales and opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off.

“I’ll just stay behind, you need Frankie more than me,” you say to the room, “and you need Joel more than me.”

“Cariño, fuck him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Frankie says, squeezing you under his arm but you shake your head.

“He’s got a point, who would you save first, him or me?” You’re looking at Frankie and you can see in his eyes that he knows full well you’d be the first one he’d save, and you’d do the same for him. You hadn’t seen it until Joel put his finger on it, but your bond puts everyone else in danger.

“It’s never been an issue, hermana,” Santi says from his corner of the couch, “we’re not in the army anymore, different rules apply and we adapt around it. Will would save Benny first if he had to choose.”

“But Frankie doesn’t even want me going on smuggling runs,” you say, “I had to twist his arm to let me come,” Frankie’s eyes are pained when he meets yours, “You would rather I stayed behind and be safe.”

He sighs, running his hand over his neck, “Yeah, I would, you know I hate the thought of you getting hurt, or worse.”

“So I won’t go anymore,” you shrug, pretending it doesn’t bother you, and stand up, getting ready to leave, “If I’m with you on a run your focus will be on me, and I know you won’t let me go with someone else. It’s just better if I don’t go at all.” You know Frankie isn’t fighting you on this because it’s what he wants, he’s trying to hide it but you see relief in his eyes as he gets up to join you. The other men remain silent, Benny opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it, closing it again as he stands up. He surprises you with one of his signature bear hugs instead.

“I’d have you on my team any day,” he mutters close to your ear as his arms crush you to his chest, “fuck Joel.” His support makes you smile and you give him an extra squeeze before letting go.

You’re subdued when you get back to your own apartment and Frankie hovers in the living room as you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You know him well enough after all these years to know what he’s doing, and when he comes in and leans on the door frame, watching your evening routine, you know he’s getting ready to speak after sorting the words in his head.

“Cariño,” he begins, his hand shooting up and rubbing across his neck, “I can’t pretend like I won’t be calmer if you’re here, safe, instead of out dealing with FEDRA patrols, raiders and infected and all the other shit. Joel’s right, when we’re out there, I’m always focused on you, and I’m always worried about you, in a way I never was when it was just me and the guys on missions in the army or doing runs with Pope in Arlington.” He’s gripping the door frame, grinding his fingers into the wood as he speaks, his eyes seeking yours in the mirror as you continue to brush your teeth. When you look at him he takes a tentative step towards you, his hand coming out and resting on the small of your back, as if he wants to circle your waist and pull you close, but he’s not sure how you’ll react yet. “I know you wanna come with me too, I know you worried about me when I went out with Pope, but it’ll be different now, I’ll be with Will and Ben too, we’ll be able to handle anything, it won’t be as dangerous as before.”

You spit the toothpaste out and rinse your mouth before meeting his eyes in the mirror, “I hate it,” you say, giving your head a small shake, “the idea of you being out there, in danger, I fucking hate it.”

“I know,” Frankie says softly, his arm coming all the way around your waist and you lean into him.

“If you don’t come back, I’m coming after you, you know that right?” you whisper into his chest.

“I’ll come back, I promise I’ll always come back.” He’s turning you so that he’s got you pressed against him, his arms around you and holding you tight as he drops his head against the top of yours.

“You can’t promise that, Frankie.”

“Watch me,” he mumbles, “Just fucking watch me.”

Chapter 29

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