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savagemickey03 · 1 day ago

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The Silence Of The Mole

Poly 141 x Medic Reader

Summary: A field medic and lover to the 141 is caught in a web of suspicion and betrayal after a mission goes wrong. Accused of being a mole, the reader faces harsh interrogations from the squad, leading to deep emotional scars. As the truth comes out, trust is shattered, and the reader must decide whether they can ever forgive the team, especially those they were closest to.

Warning: ⚠️ Ghost being extra mean ⚠️

The mission had gone to hell in seconds. You crouched behind cover in the wreckage of what was once a safehouse, blood staining your gloves as you worked frantically to save an injured operative. Shouts and gunfire echoed around you, the air thick with the stench of smoke and burnt flesh. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

The intel had been airtight, or so everyone believed. You’d moved in with precision, confidence, and a plan. But the ambush hit hard and fast, your every move countered like they were reading from the same playbook.

You didn’t have time to think about how it had gone wrong. You were too busy pulling Soap out of the line of fire, throwing yourself between Gaz and the sniper that had him pinned, dragging Ghost back when shrapnel ripped through his shoulder. The fight was chaos, but somehow, you all made it out alive—just barely.

When you finally made it back to base, everything was eerily silent. No one spoke as you filed into the debriefing room, the weight of the failed mission pressing down on all of you. Price stood at the head of the table, his face like stone, and you could feel the tension in the room simmering beneath the surface.

“This wasn’t bad luck,” Price said finally, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Someone sold us out.”

The words hit like a physical blow. You looked around the room, seeing the same shock and disbelief mirrored in everyone’s faces. A mole. Someone had betrayed the team.

The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating, until Ghost spoke. “We need to find out who.”

It wasn’t long before the rumors started.

It began as whispers, quiet and insidious.

“She always knows where everyone is.”

“I heard she was asking a lot of questions before the mission.”

“She’s close with all of them—maybe too close.”

At first, you ignored it. You told yourself it was just paranoia, that people were looking for someone to blame. But then the stares started. The sidelong glances in the hallways, the conversations that stopped when you walked into the room.

You tried to push it aside, focusing on your work in the med bay. But the tension followed you everywhere, growing louder and more hostile with every passing day.

The breaking point came when Price called you into the debriefing room.

The room felt colder than usual, the air thick with tension. Price sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. Ghost was next to him, his arms crossed over his chest, his posture radiating controlled fury. Soap and Gaz sat farther back, their expressions uneasy.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you asked, your voice steady despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Take a seat,” Price said.

You hesitated, glancing at the others, but eventually sat down. The silence stretched on, oppressive and uncomfortable, until Price finally spoke.

“There’s been a development,” he said. “Rumors are going around that you’re the mole.”

You froze, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “What?”

“It’s not just rumors,” Ghost said, his voice low and biting. “We have to investigate.”

Your stomach twisted. “You think I did this?”

“No one’s saying that—” Soap started, but Ghost cut him off.

“We’re saying we can’t rule you out,” he said.

Your breath caught in your throat. “I’ve been with this team for years. I’ve saved your lives more times than I can count. How can you even think—”

“Enough,” Price interrupted, his tone sharp. “We’re not accusing you. But we need answers.”

Your chest tightened, anger and disbelief warring with the hurt that clawed at your throat. “So, what? You’re interrogating me now?”

No one answered, but the tension in the room was answer enough.

The interrogation started that night.

Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz all took turns questioning you, their voices sharp and relentless as they picked apart every detail of your actions before and during the mission.

“Where were you two hours before deployment?” Price asked, his voice calm but cold.

“In the med bay, prepping supplies,” you answered, your hands clenched into fists beneath the table.

“Alone?” Ghost pressed, his tone unreadable, though the accusation was clear.

You nodded. “Yes. I always prep alone; you know that.”

“That’s convenient,” Ghost said, his eyes narrowing.

Your jaw tightened. “What are you implying?”

“Just stating the facts,” he replied, his voice clipped.

Soap shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding your gaze. Gaz leaned forward, his brow furrowed in conflict, but he didn’t speak up. It felt like they were watching you drown, unsure whether to save you or let you sink.

The questioning dragged on for hours, each question more pointed than the last. They dissected your every move, twisting your words until even you started doubting yourself.

“Did you access the mission brief before it was officially released?” Price asked.

“I didn’t,” you said firmly.

“We’ve got logs showing someone accessed it from a med bay terminal,” Ghost said, his voice hard. “You’re the only one who uses that terminal.”

Your stomach dropped. “I didn’t touch it. I swear.”

“Then who did?” Price asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“I don’t know!” you snapped, your voice cracking under the pressure. “But it wasn’t me.”

Your words hung in the air, but the doubt in their eyes didn’t waver.

The interrogations became a daily occurrence. They pulled you into that cold, sterile room every night, questioning you until your voice was hoarse and your body ached from the tension. The physical toll started to show—dark circles under your eyes, a tremor in your hands that you couldn’t hide.

But the worst part wasn’t the exhaustion or the relentless questions. It was the way they looked at you.

Price, the man who had been your anchor in countless storms, now looked at you like a stranger. Ghost, your silent protector, treated you like an enemy. Even Soap and Gaz, the ones who always comforted you and usually had your back no matter what, kept their distance, their expressions torn between doubt and guilt.

It wasn’t long before the interrogations escalated.

One night, after yet another grueling session, Ghost stood and loomed over you, his towering presence casting a shadow over the room.

“You’re not telling us everything,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

“Lies,” he said simply.

Before you could respond, Ghost’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist in an ironclad hold. You gasped as he pulled you to your feet, his grip bruising.

“Ghost,” Soap said sharply, stepping forward. “That’s enough.”

But Ghost didn’t let go. “People died because of that ambush,” he said, his voice cold and venomous. “Our people. You think you’re walking out of here without giving us answers?”

“I didn’t do it!” you shouted, your voice breaking.

Ghost’s grip tightened, and panic surged in your chest. You tried to pull away, but he was too strong.

“That’s enough,” Price said, his voice sharp as a blade.

Ghost hesitated, then released you, shoving you back into the chair. You stumbled, clutching your wrist as tears blurred your vision.

The room was silent, the tension thick enough to choke on.

The physical strain from the interrogations started to show. Your body ached from being yanked and shoved, your wrists bruised from Ghost’s rough grip. Your hands, once steady and skilled, trembled constantly, making it harder to do your job in the med bay.

It wasn’t just the physical toll. The emotional weight was unbearable. The 141—your lovers, your partners, your family—looked at you like you were a stranger. No matter how much you pleaded, no matter how many times you swore your innocence, they refused to believe you.

Only Gaz and Soap seemed to falter. They still looked at you with doubt, but there were moments when you caught glimpses of something else—guilt, hesitation, maybe even regret. But they didn’t say anything, and their silence hurt almost as much as the accusations.

A week later, the truth finally came out.

You were in the med bay, stitching up a soldier’s wound with trembling hands, when Price walked in. The look on his face was unreadable, but there was something heavy in his eyes.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice softer than it had been in days.

You nodded, though your chest tightened with apprehension.

Price led you to the debriefing room, where Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were already waiting. The tension in the room was palpable, but this time, it felt different.

“We know the truth,” Price said, his voice low.

Your heart stopped.

“It wasn’t you,” he continued. “The intel breach came from someone else. A jealous operative spread the rumors to cover their tracks.”

You stared at him, the words not fully sinking in. “What?”

“They’ve been discharged,” Ghost said, his tone clipped.

You looked between them, your anger and disbelief bubbling to the surface. “So that’s it? You spent a week tearing me apart, treating me like a traitor, and now you expect me to just move on?”

No one answered.

“Do you have any idea what you put me through?” you demanded, your voice shaking. “What you did to me?”

“Lass, we—” Soap started, but you cut him off.

“Don’t,” you said sharply, tears streaming down your face. “Don’t you dare try to justify it.”

They tried to apologize, but the damage was done. The betrayal cut too deep, and no amount of words could erase the memories of their accusations—the way they’d looked at you, interrogated you, hurt you. It had shattered something fundamental between you and the people you once trusted with your life.

You stopped sharing quarters with them, opting instead to sleep in the med bay. It wasn’t ideal—your back ached from the stiff cot, and the sterile smell of antiseptic filled your dreams—but at least it gave you space. You couldn’t bear to wake up beside them, to feel their hands on you, knowing what they’d done.

The med bay became your haven. You threw yourself into your work, tending to wounded soldiers and drowning yourself in the steady routine of bandages, stitches, and medications. You thought if you stayed busy enough, you wouldn’t have to think about the past week—or the aching void in your chest where their love used to be.

Soap and Gaz tried the hardest to make amends.

“Lass, let me help you with that,” Soap said one evening, stepping into the med bay as you struggled to move a heavy supply crate.

“I don’t need your help,” you said coldly, refusing to look at him.

“Please,” he said, his voice quiet. “I just… I want to help.”

You hesitated for a moment before stepping aside, letting him carry the crate to the storage room. He lingered after, standing awkwardly by the door as if waiting for you to say something.

“Is there something else you need?” you asked, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice.

Soap flinched but shook his head. “No. Just… sorry.”

You turned away, refusing to let him see the tears welling in your eyes.

Gaz was more subtle, his attempts to bridge the gap quieter but no less earnest. He stayed late in the med bay, helping you clean up or organize supplies without saying a word. He brought you coffee in the mornings, setting it down on your desk before slipping away.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me,” he said one night as you worked side by side. “And I don’t blame you. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. For all of it.”

You didn’t respond, keeping your focus on the sutures in your hands. But when he left, you found yourself staring at the door long after it closed, wondering if maybe—just maybe—he meant it.

Ghost and Price, on the other hand, kept their distance.

You saw them in passing—Ghost’s hulking figure lingering in the shadows, Price’s steady presence in the command room—but they didn’t approach you. They didn’t try to explain themselves, didn’t offer apologies or excuses. At first, you were relieved. You didn’t think you could handle hearing their voices without breaking all over again.

But as the days stretched on, their silence began to weigh on you. It felt like they were avoiding you, like they’d given up on even trying to make things right. And maybe they had.

One night, as you sat alone in the med bay, the door creaked open. You looked up to see Price standing in the doorway, his hat in his hands.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“Where else would I be?” you replied, your tone sharper than you intended.

He stepped inside, hesitating for a moment before sitting down across from you. The weight of his presence filled the room, the silence stretching unbearably between you.

“I owe you an apology,” he said finally.

You stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I let my judgment get clouded,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I should’ve trusted you. I didn’t. And that’s on me.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? What you all put me through?”

Price looked up, and for the first time, you saw the guilt etched into his features. “I can’t take it back,” he said. “But I want to make it right.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “You can’t make it right, Price. Not after this.”

Ghost came to you a few days later.

You were organizing supplies when you felt his presence behind you, a familiar weight that sent a shiver down your spine.

“What do you want, Ghost?” you asked, not turning around.

“I wanted to talk,” he said, his voice unusually hesitant.

You laughed bitterly. “You? Talk? That’s a first.”

There was a pause, and when you finally turned to face him, you saw something you had only seen when he showed you his face: vulnerability.

“I was wrong,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was wrong about you. And I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, the words hanging in the air between you. For a moment, you almost believed him. But then you remembered the way he’d looked at you during the interrogations—the cold, unyielding fury in his eyes—and the anger surged back.

“You think ‘sorry’ is enough?” you asked, your voice shaking. “You didn’t just accuse me, Ghost. You hurt me. Physically, emotionally—you broke me.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “And I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

“Good,” you said, your eyes blazing with tears. “Because I don’t think I can forgive you either.”

Soap and Gaz were the only ones you started to let back in. It was slow—painfully slow—but their earnest efforts began to chip away at the walls you’d built around yourself.

Soap made you laugh again, his humor cautious but genuine. Gaz stayed by your side during the long, quiet nights in the med bay, his steady presence a comfort you didn’t realize you needed.

Price and Ghost, though—they remained on the outside. No matter how much they apologized, no matter how many times they tried to reach out, you couldn’t bring yourself to let them in. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

And yet, despite everything, a part of you still longed for the family you’d lost. Whether that longing would ever outweigh the pain they’d caused, though, was a question you weren’t ready to answer. Not yet.

Authors note: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this week’s fic! It was definitely a rollercoaster for me to write my heart was all over the place! I’d love to hear your thoughts on it, so please let me know what you liked and if there’s anything else you’d like me to explore. Looking forward to your feedback and what you’d like to see next 🫶🏼

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savagemickey03 · 2 days ago

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DON’T NEED SAVING - a klaus mikaelson oneshot

summary: when klaus brings his girlfriend to meet his family for the first time they don’t exactly welcome her with open arms. namely, rebekah. but as soon as she takes a dagger to her pride she gets ANGRY, and it makes klaus love her even more.

WARNINGS: swearing, depictions of anger / fighting, physical violence ( not domestic )

request: @ranisingsnew

3.7k words

┌──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────┐

Klaus swore he would never let his power be dampened by something as frivolous as love - that he’d never be with a woman for more than a fling. He was too good for it. Too strong. Especially to fall for a human.

That was until he met Y/n.

One of his worldly escapades had led him to a place with architecture so beautiful, life so pure, and a certain spark so bold it could capture even him in its wonder.

All of this held his attention so tightly that he didn't even notice what was right in front of him until he hit it. Literally.

His typically sly, dark blue eyes seemed to flash a shade lighter for just a second when he looked up, growing wide at the sight before him. Something even more exquisite and awestriking than the scenery - something he never thought possible. Her.

She looked at him expectantly with an arched eyebrow as his brain practically short-circuited at the smell of the sweet blood beneath her veins.

“I-” he paused. “Sorry, love. Forgive me, I was in my own world,” his stare piercing, gaining back his usual strength after that brief moment of weakness, his signature smirk at home on his lips.

But his face practically dropped in surprise as her’s stayed just as it was; unmoving, unyielding, unimpressed, with arms crossed over her chest as she eyed him up and down.

Klaus felt unusually insufficient under her cold gaze, one that could rival his. He took a step forward, shaking out his shoulders to regain the intimidating presence he was so known for, folding his arms back at her.

“You’re not in a rush, are you?”

The look she gave was incredulous. “That depends, why are you asking?”

This one was feisty, he liked that, he liked a challenge.

His tongue swiped over his teeth with a slight chuckle before speaking again, the lilt in his voice that he used to woo any woman when he wanted to watch them crumble. “I’m new in town, I was hoping you could show me around,” he moved closer, “I’d love to get to know… the place.” A ring-clad hand reached forward to brush a strand of hair from her face.

But she got there before he could.

Her silence was deafening as she mulled the offer over. It wasn’t often that a woman could resist his charms for so long.

“If you’re so desperate to be in my company then fine. You can tag along but I’m not gonna be your little tour guide.”

The stark contrast between her sweet appearance and her fierce attitude was beyond alluring.

Klaus was willing to take anything he could get, feeling more like a lost puppy than he had in over 1000 years, and he was on her leash.

For days he managed to seek her out, every chance he got.

It was a means to an end, the usual end. At least, that’s what he told himself

But the less she fell victim to his charms, the more he was weirdly captured by hers.

Compulsion didn’t seem to work either - did she really make him so weak that he couldn’t perform such a basic function?

Instead, when she got defensive to his advances, it was like she put a spell on him of her own. She wasn’t a witch, but her mind games felt more powerful than any that he had met.

“What do you say we go and get a little drink, huh?” he leaned forward and looked into her eyes, waiting for her pupils to dilate so he could have her right where he wanted her.

“What are you doing?”

Klaus was abruptly taken aback, blinking rapidly as he let out a confused, breathy chuckle. “What do you mean? I’m not doing anything, love,” his eyes never left hers.

“No, that thing with your eyes,” she nodded, dead set on what she saw.

His only instinct was to try again, “You didn’t see anything.”

“There!” she caught it once more, causing him to take a step back; it was safe to say he was completely and utterly perplexed.

“You just did it again! What was that?”

Her eyes seemed to control him instead and he almost stuttered - he never stuttered.

This woman had him - the most powerful man on the planet - wrapped around her tiny little mortal finger.

She and Klaus had been dating for a few months now. After weeks of his constant flowers, letters, paintings, and smooth talk she finally gave in. He couldn’t help but think she only accepted his efforts because she had wanted a break from trying to resist them, and this is what she thought at first too; that she’d let him win for a little while, maybe a couple of weeks, and then break it off.

But as the months passed, she too fell head over heels for him. Over this short time he had already revealed everything to her about his supernatural world, he trusted her with his life and knew that she wouldn’t say a word. Klaus hadn’t thought his attraction to her could get any stronger, but he was now the most whipped he had ever been. She was more than his usual affair or snack. She was his soulmate, he was sure of it.

But Klaus was a family man through and through, and he felt as if it was finally time for them to meet the love of his immortal life.

“I will never let anything happen to you, you know that, right?” Klaus turned to look at his beautiful girlfriend who sat calmly in the passenger seat of his car - he seemed more nervous than she did.

I simply rolled my eyes and laughed, he was so protective it almost hurt. “I know, Nik. You’ve told me about a thousand times already.”

He just smiled. “I have. But I just wanted to warn you that they’re not always the most friendly bunch - obviously that skipped me.” He tried to end on a quip to ease my mind, something he wouldn’t have thought to do for anyone else.

His family had a very complicated history, and a lot of it revolved around him, so their feelings toward him fluctuated on the daily. It was a fact that he was the strongest; and even though he wasn’t the oldest he was by far the boss of the Mikaelson group. So if any one of them put even one bad word on my name he was more than ready to tear them apart.

I had heard all about the family drama - Klaus was undoubtedly one to gossip - but I knew I could handle anything they threw at me on my own, even if it was from an original vampire.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Klaus turned the key to the ornate wooden doors, swinging them open with his usual dramatics as he took my hand and led me inside.

My jaw immediately dropped. ‘Humble,’ definitely didn’t do it justice.

I had expected it to be nice, but this house was beyond lavish, stunning, massive - not the dark cave many would expect from a bunch of ancient vampires.

Klaus had obviously noticed the look of awe sweep my face because he laughed, that low chuckle he always did that set my heart on fire.

Subtleties in his eyes told me that he was glad I liked it so much. I had heard from many that they found my boyfriend incredibly hard to read, which was actually quite a shock to me because I had pried open the windows to his soul the very moment I met him.

He never freed my hand from his he led us into the main room. “Where are they?” he scanned the area and listened for footsteps upstairs since they did know we were coming.

“Kol! Elijah! Rebekah! Come down!” he shouted throughout the grand house and made me giggle. He really was the leader of the family.

A variety of shouts called back before three figures sped down to the bottom floor.

Two men and one woman. One of the men wore more casual clothes, a jacket over a button-up shirt and some jeans - much like how Klaus typically dressed - while the other wore a full suit at 4 pm on a Tuesday. They both practically scowled at the sight of me, but the blonde girl was the worst. I couldn’t tell if that was how her face fell or if she was purposefully staring daggers through me as if to telepathically wound me with her attitude - she looked like a blast…

Klaus then stepped forward, bringing me with him, a happy grin on his face, “Brothers, Rebekah, this is my wonderful Y/n.” His hand gestured towards me with a softness none of them had seen before, not that they cared.

I noticed how they all seemed to size me up. They were silent, but their mannerisms spoke louder than their words ever could’ve. The vibe that was given off immediately was that I was being judged.

Nevertheless, I chose to be polite, to be the bigger person - you’d think for people who had been alive so long they would’ve had the time to learn manners. “Nice to meet you all,” I offered a warm smile that none of them returned. Tough crowd.

Soon, the awkward introductions were over and we all went to sit in the living room. As we walked over Klaus leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “They’re always a bit cranky around this time,” smirking as he knew that they were vampires and would most definitely hear him. I could not help but let out a small laugh.

Klaus, of course, made sure I sat as close to him as physically possible when we got to the couch, his arm around my shoulder as everyone else sat on the other chairs around the room.

The conversation started light; ‘What do you do for work,’ ‘Where are you from,’ etc.

Meanwhile, the blonde who I now know to be Rebekah had not spoken a word, that was until she shouted out in the middle of my answer to one of Elijah’s questions.

“So, what do you want with him?” she referred to her brother and I could practically feel him roll his eyes behind me.

“Is it his money? Or is it that you want to become like us?” she assumed, the thought making her laugh out loud.

I felt Klaus’ hand tighten around mine and the way his chest rose when he took a deep breath in, “Rebekah.” His tone was strict, warning.

“Shh,” I ran my fingertips over his knuckles, quickly looking back to tell him it was okay before turning back to Rebekah.

“Neither, believe it or not,” my smile was sweet, but also slightly condescending. “I’m with him because we love each other, is that so hard to believe?” I made sure to keep my words friendly, even though I could not help the undertones of my annoyance at her insolence slip through.

“Hm,” she hummed shortly, practically looking down her nose at me from across the room. “It is, actually. Nik has never been one for love, right brothers?” she gestured to the two men for them to back her up, but it seemed like they knew to say nothing.

The scoff that left my lips was very much involuntary, but it seemed to add to her frustration which I admittedly took some pride in. “Hm,” I mimicked her sound, “that’s funny because he seems to love me an awful lot, at first I thought too much,” I giggled and the man in question did too, an effort to keep the tension light while subtly trying to keep her in her place. Which didn’t work.

“Interesting,” she didn’t sound like she cared in the slightest, giving up on making conversation with me and directing her next question to her brother. “It just shocks me, Nik, that you would go for her when you could have any woman in the world. I never thought you’d choose such an… average human.”

Klaus was practically seething, the more she spoke the tenser he got and the closer he approached to his tipping point.

“I mean,” she continued, clearly incredibly amused at both of our reactions, “why don’t you just dump her now and we could all just have a little snack? That’s what your plan is anyway, right? Dinner’s on you tonight.”

My hand stayed firmly on his leg to stop him from getting up, telling him softly that it was okay and that I had got this - I didn’t need saving, not from her.

“Where did you even find this chick?” Rebekah let out a shrill laugh but was quickly taken aback when she saw someone stand up in anger.

And it wasn’t Klaus.

It was an instinct to shoot up, and when Nik brought his hand to mine to get me to sit down I removed it and laughed back at her myself. “You know, you have some serious audacity, Rebekah,” I spat out her name as everyone watched on in suspense, waiting for the incoming catfight.

Her jaw dropped in disbelief, a choked sound coming leaving her throat before she returned, “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh,” I chuckled darkly, “I’m serious alright. You have no right to say anything about my relationship just because you obviously can’t get someone of your own. He’s your brother, you’re not his little lap dog. So hop off my dick little vamp girl and go find someone else’s to ride.”

The longer I sat there and listened to her kick-off, the more strength bubbled up inside of me ready to burst. Now that it was out I felt even better, especially when I saw her expression; eyes wide, mouth open, too stunned to get out more than a few intelligible stutters. Shocked that some ‘average human girl’ could fire back so strongly.

Meanwhile, as I spoke Klaus was watching over, but the smirk on his face was nothing but a proud one. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing at how amazing this was - she usually carried such a sweet disposition, but the fieriness he was seeing now was definitely something he could get used to. He had always been a sucker for confrontation and riling his family up, and the fact that she could add to that made him love her even more.

“You little-” Rebekah spat furiously, slowly going to stand up herself.

I cut her off. “What? What else could you possibly have to say?” I looked at her expectantly, putting my hands on my hips, but she said nothing. “That’s what I thought. Now I see why Nik put you in a box for a hundred years. It’s been what? Fifteen minutes and you’ve already questioned my love, my loyalty, and shouted out death threats. You may be immortal, Rebekah, but you need to learn that that doesn’t make you a God.”

Every word I came back at her with only strengthened the grin on Klaus’ face - he loved his siblings in his own way, but nothing made him happier than seeing his girl stand up for herself and put them in their place. A few times he had to stop himself from getting up and intervening, but he couldn’t. He would’ve stepped in if he could tell this was taking a toll, but deep down he had always known that I was just like him, we were both just having too much fun.

Rebekah looked utterly defeated, clearly not used to having someone push back at her snarky comments so this was seemingly long overdue. So much so that I even earned a smirk and a look of newfound respect from the brother in formal wear, Elijah.

But that’s when blondie had finally had enough.

Within less than a split second, she sped over and grabbed me by the throat, pinning me to the wall at the back of the room and squeezing so my air supply was restricted, my feet dangling just above the floor.

“You dare speak to me like that, you filthy little…” she hissed, bringing her face close to mine and watching maliciously as my eyes grew wider.

But if I thought she moved fast, Klaus travelled at twice her speed in the blink of an eye, rushing to my rescue. His hands made quick work of prying her off of me and shoving her to the wall instead, reaching down to the back of his shoe where his trousers were baggy enough to conceal - and he pulled out a shiny, silver dagger.

I could do nothing but stand there stock still while the scene played out in front of me, the other brothers shooting up too but doing the same as me.

“Don’t you ever speak to her like that again,” his voice was low, yet scarily loud, but that’s not what seemed to panic Rebekah. No, she was focused on the dagger he held against her sternum, the point brushing against her top.

‘You take a dagger to her pride, I take a dagger to your heart.’ Klaus’ mind whirred with anger.

Just as she opened her mouth to plea for her brother's forgiveness or offer some half-assed apology which she would prove false the moment he let her go, he plunged the dagger into her chest. She let out a high-pitched wince as his eyes still burned into hers with pure loathing.

“Now, say you’re sorry,” he snarled darkly - so this was the Klaus I had heard about. Cruel, righteous, formidable. And the worst part; I wasn’t even scared. I may have gasped at the suddenness of his actions, but I could not help the feeling that arose within me when I saw him choose me over his own flesh and blood without so much as a second thought.

She choked on her own words, “I- I’m sorry.” Her eyes never left his.

His hand moved to twist the knife, releasing another squeak from the victim of his wrath. He spoke firmly and finally, as if this was her last warning, “To her.”

That’s when she finally turned her head to face me, “I’m sorry… Y/n.” It looked like it killed her to force out those words, but it was better than being killed again with the dagger that was hairs away from causing her to be put in a coffin for another century.

As soon as Klaus felt she had been sincere enough he ripped the blade out, his face still serious as he wiped the blood off on the fabric of his jacket. “Go,” he said plainly, not even wasting his energy on looking up from his hands. All three of them listened - I assumed that upon his revelation of the dagger (which none of them knew he had so close), they now were thinking only of themselves, fleeing the scene before they met their fates again.

They all vanished in one quick woosh leaving only me and Klaus who had shifted back into my sickeningly sweet Nik once more upon their departure.

I hadn’t even noticed that I had been clutching my chest this whole time, only taking it off when he moved his gaze to me and that wicked look in his eyes softened instantaneously into one that made me feel right at home, hurrying to me to make sure I was okay.

Without having time to even register everything that just happened I was encased in the arms of my saviour, him resting his head on top of mine while a hand moved up to gently stroke my hair. To anyone else, thinking of him acting in such a caring manner after being so ruthless would’ve been unimaginable. But to me? It was all I’d ever known.

“Shh. You’re okay, love,” he cooed before pulling back slightly and cradling my head in both his hands, bringing his soft lips to plant a tender kiss on my forehead.

I looked up at him like he was the only thing in the world; the way he had looked at me every time since the day we met.

“I’m sorry that I exposed you to that part of me, it was something I had hoped you’d never see.” Apologies didn’t come naturally to Klaus… that was, to everyone but me.

Nothing was said, I let my actions speak for themselves as a genuine smile formed on my face and I hopped up onto my tiptoes to kiss him fervently. He seemed rather shocked at the sudden change in tone, but it’s not like he was complaining. Instead, he happily reciprocated my movements, a mischievous, goofy grin left on him in the wake of my lips as I pulled back.

“Don’t apologise,” I shook my head at him in reassurance, “I thought it was sexy,” biting my lip in a teasing manner as I put his racing mind at rest - he truly was such a sweetie behind closed doors. It was honestly a shame the world would never see him the way I did - but then again, that would mean I would have to share him, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

His bright blue eyes lit up as I spoke, in a way as if to ask ‘Really?’

In response to his silent appeal for confirmation, I nodded.

“At least you’ve met them now so you finally know what I mean when I complain about my family,” he used a tone much lighter than before now that he wasn’t shouting or apologising.

A laugh escaped me, causing me to quickly cover my mouth, “I guess you weren’t joking, huh?”

Sighing in reply he shook his head in embarrassment, thinking he should’ve never taken me here in the first place. “Come, let’s go somewhere else, somewhere nicer.” His head cocked to the side as he held out an arm for me to cling to, signalling for us both to leave.

My hand graciously slipped forward to meet his request as we walked toward the door, looking up at him one last time. “You’re my hero, Klaus Mikaelson.”

Upon hearing the giggle I let out after my words his smile only widened. “Always and forever, my love.”

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savagemickey03 · 2 days ago

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Making Her Mine

Summary: Rebekah compels Elena to reveal her feelings for you and now your trust is betrayed. Rebekah seizes this opportunity to warm up to you as she has always found you attractive. Hanging out with her escalates to a make-out session as you relish your newfound feelings for her...

Smut, angst, a lil' bit of fluff

Elena cheating on the reader, Elena slander

A/N: This is the first time I've published smut. I hope it's fine (I know it's horrible) otherwise just forget this happened... do let me know if you liked it. Happy reading!

Rebekah Mikaelson X Fem!Reader

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Rebekah was dragging Stefan by the arm to the high school library and you trailed behind them, compelled to do as the Original said.

Elena, your girlfriend of two years, gasps and stands up at your arrival. "Stefan, Y/N..."

You shot her a confused look, not understanding why was she so shocked.

Rebekah shot at the brunette. "Did I say you could move?" Elena shot her an exasperated look as she slowly sat down and you moved to sit near her.

She circled you people and spoke loudly in her accented voice. "Class is in session. You know the rules. Answer my questions honestly. No disobedience, no one leaves. April, my sweet, take notes. That's how you get answers in this town."

Her gaze lingered on you, which made you feel nervous and fidgety. Sure, you didn't show it, but she was a thousand-year-old vampire who could kill you in the blink of an eye, who was currently eyeing you like a predator would do to its prey. "In the year 1114, my brother learned, thanks to yours truly, about a brother of vampire hunters with tattoos that grew with each kill. These tattoos revealed what, Elena?"

"A map" your girlfriend answered, looking down. "Which led to... Caroline?"

"A cure for vampirism."

"Perfect. So we're all caught up. Stefan Salvatore, the last time we saw each other, you had a vampire hunter. But in order to decode the map, you need the location of the hunter’s sword, which you got out of me by using some very dirty tricks. Assuming you found the sword, you also found the cure… and you’re all still vampires. Something went wrong."

She looked at April. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, you asked me to take notes."

Rebekah sighed. "Oh, I wasn't being literal, darling. But now that you mention it, a flow chart would be nice. Which means index cards and push pins. Go fetch." The teen left.

At that very moment, the blonde Original appeared oh-so-tempting to you. The way she exercised control over all of you made you feel hot all over. It has happened quite a few times before. But you were with Elena and you had no tolerance for cheaters. There was just something about Rebekah that has always piqued your interest, but then again, loyalty was the most important thing for you. No one else but Elena had a place in your heart all this time.

Stefan grew irritated and straightened up. "You're wasting your time. We don't know anything."

"So you just gave up? I thought you'd do anything to save Elena. Y/N?"

Suddenly, all eyes in the room stared at you. The tension was so thick, you though a chainsaw was needed to cut through it. You sensed something bad and grew antsy under their collective gazes. "Why are you all staring?"

No answer. "Guys...?"

Rebekah spoke again. "I'm missing something. What is it?"

No one spoke. "I asked you what happened. You have to tell me."

Finally, the younger Salvatore brother spoke. "Elena slept with Damon."

You whipped your head around to look at the mentioned brunette. Hot, white rage was all you felt thrumming in your veins. You were known for your calm demeanor and excellent control over anger, but it was getting really difficult not to claw the doppelganger's eyes out. "What is the meaning of this?!"

The doe-eyed Gilbert just looked down and spoke nothing. She knew how much your relationship meant to you. She knew that once your trust is betrayed, it's over. She knew that loyalty was the most important thing in the entire world to you. And yet she chose to disrespect you. It made you feel so pathetic. Another victim of the Petrova charm putty in the doppelganger's paws. What a bitch. Your eyes burned with hot tears, threatening to fall down. Your throat choked and tightened, making it impossible for you to say another word. No. You thought. You wouldn't shed your tears for a cheater. Tears are so precious; blood flows from the body, tears flow from the soul. Never in your entire life you had felt so insulted and betrayed. I am going to ruin them, you thought. No, I mustn't waste a moment of my life on these worthless assholes. You decided the latter was a better option. No one was as crafty and cruel as you when it came to revenge. You would be consumed by the fire of vengeance. God, you thought you sounded like you were going on a bloodbath. But that's the dark beauty of you...

You subtly took a deep breath and leaned back, your face a stone-cold mask in which even the most observant couldn't find a crack. You felt Rebekah's searing gaze in your bones. And in some way, it made you feel safe. And damn you when you didn't know why...

"So vampire Elena is a trollop who likes bad boys, but it doesn’t explain why sweet, loving, innocent Elena could be so heartless towards Y/N. How could she hurt her like that? Answer, please." The Original said, looking at Stefan.

He sighed as he spoke. "She didn't know it at the time, but she was sired to Damon."

Rebekah smirked. "A sire bond? That’s fascinating. And what do you think about that, Elena?"

Elena spat at her, "I think you’re sad. And bored. And in desperate need of a hobby."

It angered but didn't deter the blonde. She compelled the Gilbert. "You're hiding something. Fess up."

"I didn’t sleep with Damon because I’m sired. I slept with him because I’m in love with him," she spoke in such a way as if she were proud of what she'd done. That was the last straw.

"Fuck you." You spat with so much hatred and venom, that no more words were needed to convey the message: we're over. Then you spun on your heel and stormed out, carrying a kaleidoscope of emotions and the weight of Rebekah's lingering gaze.

You didn't know it at the moment, but you and Elena breaking up might just be the best thing that has happened to the Mikaelson...

It was nearly midnight, and you were at your house alone. You ate an entire tub of vanilla ice-cream, and now you were feeling guilty about it. You could have downed that bottle of Jack and Daniel hidden in your closet, but you decided you were not going to surrender to Damon's coping mechanisms.

Your room looked like a lowkey brothel, complete with silk sheets, roses, scented candles, and dim lighting. Hell, you were dressed in flimsy lace pyjamas, finding them extremely comfortable. But in your taste, it was a much-deserved self-care session.

Flipping through the pages of an erotic novel for the past hour, you got bored. It was so smutty, all the protagonists seemed to do was have sex. You grew irritated, your sex life was in shambles.

Suddenly, the bell rang. At this odd hour, you thought it would be Caroline stopping by with some ridiculously expensive cosmetics for a girl's night in, a not-so-subtle attempt of hers to comfort you. You might've hated Caroline at the moment for keeping Elena's secret, but you guessed you could live with it.

Every pore of your being protested when you rose, wrapped your robe around yourself and climbed down the stairs to open the door. The last person you were expecting to show up on your door was Rebekah Mikaelson.

Your heart skipped a beat. She looked so hot. Like get on your knees right now hot in those tight jeans and spaghetti top. For the first time ever, you could admire her classic, almost divine, beauty without any inhibitions or restrictions. For the first time, you really seemed to take her in. And gods, she was a sight for sore eyes. And damn you for wanting to bite that red lip and tear off her clothes.

You snapped out of it when she smirked. The look in her eyes made you weak in the knees. You knew that she knew of the effect she had over you.

You cleared your throat. "Rebekah, was an entirely unexpected surprise. How can I help you?"

She smiled. "Well, for starters, you could invite me inside..."

You knew it was dangerous. But you were so desperately praying for something to happen. You didn't care about the consequences. You wanted her so bad, you felt it in your bones, the desire running deep in your veins.

"Alright, would you like to come in?"

She looked surprised for a moment that you gave in so easily. But then she smiled wide and said, "I would love to." Then she stepped inside. Your heart hammered crazily in anticipation.

"Where shall I keep these?" She asked, holding up her arms. Then you noticed that she had a couple of bags looped in her arms. "I brought wine and something to munch."

You softened. "Oh, you didn't need to..."

"Oh, of course I do." She smiled softly.

You helped her with the bags to the kitchen. "Rebekah, this is a lot..." you began but she waved you off. You couldn't believe that an Original vampire was in your house in the middle of the night, who brought very costly wine and snacks to last an entire month. The blonde standing in front of you was the supposed nemesis of your friends, but what happened today was your defense.

"But why?"

"Well, that doppelganger bitch hurt you, and I was the one who meddled and you found out like this. So I guess I owed you one."

"No, no! I owe you one. I probably wouldn't have known for a longer period of time and that would've been so pathetic."

"Still... well, I hate her and you do too. So I thought that it's not such a bad idea to bond over our mutual loathing for her and maybe plot our revenge?" She said with that cute little smirk, making me laugh.

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Nothing cheesy."

"You think so? Elena ought to be the cheesiest girlfriend ever."

She rolled her eyes. "Thought so,".

"Come on,"

You guided her upstairs to your bedroom, and you were really, really nervous. Your heart was beating so loudly that you knew all too well that she could hear it.

Rebekah was in a frenzy of lust and excitement. She'd dreamt of this a little too many times and now it was real. You were the loveliest creature she'd ever encountered and she thought that you were really strong, funny and protective. And she really seemed to enjoy the not-so-decent outfit you were clad in.

The blonde glanced around your room and smirked in an almost-appreciative way. You felt a bit embarrassed about your clothes and your room, but hey, we all have those moments.

You put on a thriller on your laptop as you both sat comfortably on your post bed, with a huge bowl of chips to snack on.

About an hour must have passed in comfortable silence, and your dirty thoughts were put to rest for a while too as you focused on the complex plot of the movie. Then your patience was about to be tested.

An intimate scene was displayed on the screen and you froze. You became antsy as your thighs came in contact with Rebekah's hand. The tension in the room could be cut through with a knife. Your unbridled lust and roaring desire for her was consuming you and you couldn't control yourself as you turned to face her.

She was thinking the same thing as you and your lips collided. Your tongues fought for dominance as you explored every corner of her mouth, her doing the same.

It was a passionate, rough, and all-consuming kiss that had you moaning in her mouth and both of you had your eyes closed in bliss. She cupped your face while your hands tangled themselves in her golden locks.

It was so exhilarating, and you had just kissed... you were almost scared to know where the night would lead you.

Your lungs burned for oxygen but kissing her seemed the best way to die. Finally, you parted, gasping for air.

"That was..." you began, panting.

"Amazing," she finished, holding your eyes. You leaned in for another kiss, but she beat you to it. You kissed her senseless and your hands seemed to have a mind of their own as you began undressing her. Kissing her was your new favourite thing to do.

Her lips moulded perfectly into yours. The purpose of your life was to be hers, and at that very moment, everything was forgotten. She followed your actions and undid the flimsy lace and pushed you down, making you lie down.

The two of you were completely bare as your eyes met. You could drown and die in the blue ocean of her eyes. It was like being reborn. Her eyes held a challenge, promised an adventure and you reveled in the anticipation, the thrill and in her amorousness.

She raked her eyes all over your body and your every pore, every limb shook in bliss and ecstasy. "Damn, you're gorgeous..."

You smiled in satisfaction at her words and pulled her down to mesh your lips together.

Her lips slowly moved down to your neck, kissing and biting, leaving a trail of love bites all over. Lewd, wet sounds filled your ears as you flushed. She was a heady mixture. Slowly, very slowly, she moved down to the little dent at the base of your neck, then placed ticklish, feather-light kisses on your prominent collarbone. She kissed and licked through the valley of your breasts, down to your navel and your sensitive lower stomach.

She placed kisses along your waistline, making you gasp and moan into the silk-covered pillows. Your toes curled in pleasure when you felt her hot breath fanning over your womanhood. She had barely begun and you were already dripping wet.

The blonde moved down to kiss your inner thighs. So close but not giving you what you want.

"Rebekah, please..." you pleaded with her. Her eyes were a mixture of lust and amusement. "Please what?"

"Touch me!"

"Where?" She was such a tease. You grew frustrated and you grabbed her hand and guided it between your parted thighs. A loud, throaty gasp escaped your mouth as her fingers worked their magic upon your wet, slippery folds. You almost tore the sheets your fingers were gripping and you buried your face into the pillows to muffle your moans. But you decided against it. You wanted her to hear you. You wanted her to know just how good she was making you feel. Your body was so responsive to her touches .

Just then, her fingers hit that spot and you cried out in pure pleasure. You felt the pleasure building up and the sounds leaving your mouth resonated in every nook and corner of your house.

"Do you want me to stop?" she questioned innocently, but you knew all too well. "Shut up," you barely managed to say between your uncontrollable moans.

You wanted to tell her that you were going to reach your release, but the pleasure was too much and all you could think about was how good she was.

You started shaking and almost screaming as you reached your precipice. You quite literally saw stars as you came. Rebekah's gaze upon you was that of pure worship as she licked her fingers which were coated with your arousal. Then she leaned in to kiss you deeply and you could taste yourself on her lips. "You're so pretty..." she whispered, almost as if in a daze. You smiled and grabbed her my the arms, helping her lie down.

"My turn now," you spoke, aspiring to make her feel as good as she made you feel. You pulled her in for another searing kiss as you parted her thighs. Moving down, you maintained eye contact as you stuck out your tongue and tasted her. You'd never heard anything sexier than the gasp that left her lips when you did.

Soon, your tongue circled and lapped over her folds. Her throaty moans were music to your ears. You pulled back just when she was about to reach her high, deciding to use your fingers. Her sweet moans might as well would've been heard by the neighbours as you pleasured her all night long and to the breaking of dawn.

You both lay bare barring the sheet covering you as you watched the sun rise. To you, it felt surreal and as if it were a dream.

"I've wanted this for so long," Rebekah softly confessed. "When I met you first, I thought you were really pretty, like a royal. Your wit and wordplay is unmatched. I love how strong you are, how you don't need anyone to fight for yourself and how you're so ambitious. But you were with Elena and-" you silenced her with a kiss.

"You've no idea for how long I've wanted this too. But I'm afraid that with the arrival of the dawn, I'd wake up and all of this would be nothing but a dream." You spoke softly.

"Trust me, your screams last night were very real,"

You laughed as you kissed her. She pulled you into her arms for another round. And sure enough, the hickeys covering you were very real...

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savagemickey03 · 2 days ago

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A Second Chance

A thousand years ago, when the Mikaelson's were still human, Niklaus had a secret lover.

She was soft and sweet, gentle and kind. Y/N would wash the blood away from the wounds that colour his skin as a result of his father's rage. Her soft humming would lull him to sleep, his head against her breast comfortably as they lay out in the forest where he felt most at home.

His siblings knew of Y/N, they had seen her around and met her once or twice but Esther and Mikael weren't in the know. Niklaus was too afraid they'd forbid him from seeing her and he could handle being without her.

Each of his siblings had sworn not to tell but Finn was so awful at keeping things from their mother.

Niklaus hadn't known that he brother has tattled until it was too late.

Henrik had been killed and Esther and Mikael in turn made the rest of their children undead forever.

However it was only when Klaus's true identity came to light that Y/N was punished too. In addition to Mikael locking away Niklaus's wolf side and swearing hatred on him, he sought to punish him further by shoving a dagger deep into her chest.

Niklaus's scream shook the trees, Elijah held him as his sobs dragged the grass back into the ground and buried the life that was lost.

As centuries past, his grief was hidden behind more death and agony of which Klaus inflicted across the world. Her face was painted a million times over, a thousand different styles until Klaus could not bear to look at her anymore, it was like tearing his heart out over and over.

When the daggers came into his possession, they reminded him of her. He could still see her fearful eyes begging him for help as the blood seeped through her dress. And yet the weapon made him feel close to her each time he used them.

Her memory began to fade as the years went by, she drifted within his mind as other things came and went. But she could never be forgotton.

Esther knew that, and she used that to her advantage. She knew from the first time she stumbled across her son bathing in the lake late at night with his arms hanging loosely around a girls naked hips, their foreheads touching as they gazed lovingly at each other. When mikael killed her, she kept the girl preserved and buried safely.

A thousand years later she finally had use for the girl.

So when her children stood threateningly at the doorway, Klaus's rage on full display, Y/N's frightened whisper would break his attention.

His eyes found her. She was in that same dress she died in, still stained by her own blood but now coated head to toe in mud. He stepped forward but Esther's hand grabbed Y/N's wrist tight in a warning and he froze. So did Elijah and Rebekah.

"She's human, Niklaus." His mother reminded. "You could be human with her, have a family, a real life together like you were supposed to." She offered, watching the glimmer in her sons eyes.

Elijah stepped forward, hold hand resting on Klaus's shoulder as he too stared straight at the confused, petrified girl they had all loved.

"She's not real." Elijah whispered, assuming it was a trick and Esther's expression darkened as a blade was swiped quickly across Y/N's wrist, not hard enough to be fatal but enough to draw blood and panic Klaus.

He was in front of her in a second, trying to pull her to him but Esther threw him to the wall before he could reach and just like that Elijah and Rebekah were moving too.

Y/N was shaking silently in the corner by the time that Esther had been torn apart.

Her body flinched and trembled even once she resided in Niklaus's arms. She whimpered weakly, confused words recited in the same language they had used all that time ago. Niklaus didn't remember much but he had played the memories of their words over and over so many times that he was still able to comfort her in his mother tongue.

They got her home quickly, hiding her away in Klaus's room and muttering amongst themselves as to what to do.

"There must be a way to at least let her understand english-" Rebekah questioned and Elijah sighed, glancing over to how Y/N's fingers touched Klaus's curls and she whispered in their old language about how short it had become.

"We'll ask Davina... we should let Niklaus get her washed...she appears as though she'd been dug up." He murmured, a furrow to is brow.

Rebekahs gaze drifted to her dirtied finger nails. "She wasn't dug up...mother wouldn't be so kind. She dug her own way out." She uttered and Elijah grimaced.

"Come, we should get her some tea..." Elijah swallowed thickly, guiding Rebekah out of the room and leaving his brother alone with his old love.

His hands tried to pick the clumps of dirt from her hair whilst also trying to understand the fast words she threw at him. He tried to give her the word for bathing and eventually she nodded, holding onto his hands as he lead her into the bathroom.

The bath was small, not like the lake and the water was hot, it startled her. Klaus steadied her, helping her down and climbing in behind her when she cried out for him not to leave her alone. Not again.

The feel of her skin back against his was a feeling Klaus had been so sure he had forgotten forever. She tried to turn to face him, ending up completely pressed on top of him as his hands washed the soap and water down her back only start panicking when the expensive body wash made her soft skin scatter with red rash.

"Oh-" He muttered and wrapped his arm round her waist and lifted her up with him. She muttered out in confusion but didn't struggle, too happy to be in his hold as he drained the water and started again, laying back down with her. "Come here, my sweet." He guided her onto her back so he could reach and see her hair as he washed it enough until it was back to the silkiness he remembered so fondly.

He heard her little sniffles first, before her shoulder shook slightly with a sob. Klaus's heart sunk slightly and he nudged his nose into the side of her neck, placing gentle kissed like she had loved so much but they made her cry harder.

Her words were lost on him, he couldn't recall the language well enough after so long and it made his guilt swirl so much it hurt. Klaus tried to make sense of something but all he could make out was "Darkness" and "loneliness".

He tried to comfort her with the few words still in memory but she wouldn't stop, not even once she was dressed in one of his shirts and tucked to his chest under the covers, a cup of tea in Klaus's hands that he'd insisted she sip on from time to time.

Eventually she sunk into sleep but it only lasted for so long before she was clawing at her throat with her already broken nails, as though she were suffocating.

Klaus grabbed at her hands, immediately being sucked into her mind. The image of her waking beneath the ground, unable to breathe or see as her hands tried to find the light above.

Only a few seconds passed before Elijah was bursting through the door, awakened by the screams. Rebekah and Marcel a few seconds later.

"I'm calling Davina." Marcel muttered to Rebekah after actually seeing the girls condition and hearing her foreign cries.

The lights were back on which calmed her partly, finally being able to see. Her hands clung onto Klaus's shirt, clutching the fabric against her palm for any sort of security.

Elijah and Rebekah were sat on the edge of Klaus's bed, watching the once full of life girl from their village full of fear and confusion.

Ages went by before Marcel returned with a half asleep Davina and a couple candles. Klaus rocked his love calmly, hand stroking her arm to prove he was still there as Davina set up around them. Her chant echoed through the room, flames standing tall and proud as she reluctantly held her hand out for Klaus to take and then gently held Y/N's in the other.

"I'm sorry...this is the only way I can think of." She whispered before a thousand years worth of Klaus's memories were thrust upon Y/N.

A loud sound of pain emitted from her and she held her head. Klaus frowned in concern, trying to cup her face to see what was happening but when she looked back at him it was like she had seen a ghost.

A thousand variants of each emotion painted her expression before she crawled back against him and breathed in his scent with each hiccuped cry.

After a while the others left and Klaus rest his chin on top her head.

She didn't utter a word for days, not in any language. Klaus would dress her and feed her each day, hold her to him as he showed her the television which only seemed to hurt her head.

He had left her downstairs on the couch when she had fallen into for once a stable sleep without the traumatic nightmare of being buried alive.

He was just in the other room, trying to think of any way to make things better for her and for them.

Y/N being alive had never once been a possibility in his mind, especially her being alive with no knowledge of any time passing to all of a sudden knowing every shameful act he'd committed.

Klaus was too lost in thought to hear Camille making her way into the abattoir, calling out for him and stumbling across Y/N who had just woken.

"Oh...uh hi." She blinked at the girl. She was clearly in Klaus's clothes. The sweatpants were barely holding onto her hips and the shirt was easily recognisable. Y/N stared back, she recognised her, from Klaus's memories. Camille, Cami.

He liked her, they'd danced together. He'd thought about her, a lot. It made her stomach twist uneasily and her knees pull to her chest self-consciously.

"Camille." Klaus's voice echoed over her head before he was kneeling down beside her and stroking her head, checking she hadn't woken in terror again. "I'm afraid this isn't a good time." He informed her, sitting down on the sofa and noting how Y/N withdrew, instantly making the mental connection.

"You haven't been answering, I worried something had happened." She explained warily as she watched Klaus watch Y/N.

"This is Y/N." He introduced faintly, his attention not lifting to her. "She died a thousand years ago but my mother brought her back, she's struggling to adjust for the moment. I'd appreciate if you left, I don't think new people is helping right now." He tried to tell her to leave as politely as possible.

Cami only nodded, the information hitting like a wave as she apologised under her breath and retreated.

Klaus stroked Y/N's cheek as he sighed softly, "Please understand that I love you Y/N." He murmured. "I would have chosen you over any woman I have ever come across without a doubt. I would have taken my mother's deal, I would be human beside you." He told her, eyes sincere. "I only wish we could go back all those years, I should have married you then." He uttered, a kiss pressed to her cheek.

"Why didn't you?" She whispered, speaking in english for the first time.

"I was afraid. Not of us, of-"

"Mikael." She mumbled, “I remember now, sorry." She sniffed and he sighed.

"You shouldn't have been given all my memories like that, it's too much for anyone to handle all at once." He sighed, his hands cupping her face and stroking her soft cheeks. "I won't ever leave you alone again. Never in the dark, never in the cold, never anywhere."

"I don't understand why she would bring me back." Y/N whispered and Klaus frowned.

"I'm happy you're here, my heart." He murmured, his brows furrowed. "I've lived to long without you, and you have not lived long enough. Things will be better now."

"You hurt and kill..." She whispered, a soft sniff to her words and he looked down.

"I know." He nodded. He hated all the evil she had seen him do through his memories. He was nothing like he used to be. "But I'd never hurt you, and I'd keep you safe."

"I don't want to be here." She whimpered and he held her onto his lap.

"It's just hard at the moment, we've only just started adjusting. It'll get easier and you'll start to like it. I know you've seen things through me but it'll be so much better when you actually experience them." He persuaded, stroking her hair but she didn't look overly convinced.

"I don't want to push my way into your new life." She mumbled and sighed softly to himself in slight annoyance, not being annoyed with her but annoyed with the idea that he could ever not want her with him in his life. She would never be an inconvenience for him, a long time ago she was every thing for him and now she was that again. It had been clear that Klaus's attention had remained on her since the second his eyes found hers again, it was very possible that Klaus wouldn't be so infatuated with power so much now.

She held the innocence of his past that he had lost. She gave him something that no thing or other person could ever supply.

She was old life and she would be his new life, he could finally have a second chance worth taking.

His body was curled around hers, protecting her frame like a shield as he nuzzled her hair. "You're not pushing in, my love. If anything, I'm pulling you in. I don't think I can ever lose you again." Klaus uttered, his eyes closing as his mind conjured a hundred different possibilities for their future. "You are the life in my death, even when I was human...you were the light.

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savagemickey03 · 2 days ago

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Simon and reader would be the last one to know they're in a relationship.

Soap would groan inwardly, when you would hop on to sit on Simon's lap because there was no 'room' on the bench.

And not the way you jittered, “Try this !” to him, holding Simon's jaw and feeding him with your own spoon. Ofcourse friend could feed one another, but Price drew the line at the intense way your thumb wiped the corner of their lieutenant's mouth and sucked it back.

Something, something about the way you kissed Simon in the middle of the room —because your chapstick's flavour was damn good and Simon ought to know that; Kyle rambled about it for two hours.

It's in the eyes, in the smiles, in the way Simon's gaze would soften up and yours would lit up like fuse. They wouldn't be surprised to find you guys married one day just because the ring looked pretty cute or whatever.

Masterlist

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savagemickey03 · 3 days ago

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My Darling Dove

König x Plus Size FemReader

Soooo Ive had this in my drafts for over a year (Peak Koniq era) and touched it up a bit- There was a part two if anyone wanted that since it has some serious NSFW, I Hope you guys enjoy?

Warnings: Fluff, Bullying, Violence (not on reader), some Angst/Body Insecurities, Start of spice (would be in pt 2)

Support me on Ko-Fi

Masterlist <-

His Liebling- Schatz- Perle, Maus.

He could think of a million names for you, but one would always beat the rest.

His wife.

Having met long ago when he was a fresh faced marine and you were a green medic. Both of you awkward and shy, yet fitting together like a puzzle piece. He loved you- and you loved him, more then words could ever hope to express.

He'd gotten home from deployment the evening before, excited to see you and spend some much needed quality time with his darling wife. Washing up as fast as possible, as he knew you hated him jumping in bed still smelling of old blood and sweat.

Rushing in fresh boxers that truthfully were barely on him since hed plan to take them off anyway, he'd caught you at the perfect time it seemed-

Seeing you getting dressed in your nightclothes, as he placed his hands on your waist almost salivating like an animal as his hands immediately went to try at the waistband-

However he saw the scramble of you pull on rather baggy pants, hiding the figure he loved so much- How your flash of almost panic at him seeing you, which threw him off incredibly.

"My Dove? Are you okay?" König whispered softly, noticing your apprehension and shyness much to his confusion.

"I'm fine love just.. maybe not tonight?- I don't feel too great" You said softly, König nodding and moving his hands away from your pants and carefully wrapping around your waist.

"Of course Maus"

König cuddled you that night, spooning you but he noticed immediately you seemed uncomforble and distant. Pulling at your shirt to cover your body more-

He didn't say anything about it, but he knew something was wrong- Very wrong.

Which lead him to his current state. Seated in his office on base thinking deeply- He hadn't even seen you this morning when you changed to go do your shift, normally getting quite some eyefulls of you before you left but not today. You'd gone as far to change in the bathroom before giving him his kiss goodbye.

Maybe it was the sexual frustration of not getting to sleep with you or his now general worry for you, however it was plaguing him and he couldn't focus...

His face twisted in a scowl under his hood as he tapped his fingers on his desk looking at the reports from his last assignment.

Standing up suddenly he walked out of his office, Files in hand as he walked straight to Horangi- Handing the man the files a bit harsher then intended.

Horangi looking to the man almost amused as he could practically smell the stress from the male.

"Problems in paradise I take it?"

König shot a glare- before rubbing his face under his mask with a heavy sigh. Horangi and a fairly decent portion of any higher ranking soldiers and staff knew you were his wife, seeing however wherever he went you went- It had been a fight with those higher then him, however it had been seen as a leash to keep their best in check-

A price König was willing to pay to keep you close.

"No.. She's is acting odd.. almost jumpy" He grumbled, Now the other soilder now seemingly surprised by this-

"I need to check on her- Do these" König said as he pointed to the files and marched out of the building, marching over to the medical quarters he knew you would be in.

Walking in he had seen it was rather busy, a fair amount of new recruits there paired with some frequent flyers. Nothing that didn't surprise him at least, his eyes scanning around silently as he turned the corner to find you.

"It's like watching a hippo-"

König paused mid step, Hearing the voice and slowly moving so he could glance from around said corner to hear who was saying this and at who- always being one to correct such childish behavior no matter what.

"Yeah but at least a hippo has better grace- (Y/N) is like the blob-" The young men cackled.

König was never so greatful for having silent footsteps before- his arms crossed over his vested chest as he watched two young Cadets gawk at you and cackle amongst themselves as they sat on their medical cots clearly just there to avoid duty- their gaze clearly only on you. He saw how you flinched ever so slightly at their words, clearly able to hear their squawking but choosing to continue working.

"Still big girls are desperate- So I bet she's easy if not a chubby little barracks bunny" one of the men cackled- König seeing your shoulders flinch at their words once more and turn away as your hands seemed to go over the medicine needing to be dished out. His body starting to shake as he stood there, rage filling his very soul.

"I'd have peel those pants off those thighs like trying to take a pillow out of a pillow case" They cackled, clearly other staff seeing this but seeing how these Cadets had been rising through their ranks fairly fast- it would be a surprise if they threatened some of the staff by the way the other medics and nurses seemed to avoid them.

"Bet her thighs are like silly putty" This made the two break out in childish giggles.

Konig was beet red at this point- listening to these two disrespect his wife who was trying to work. Knowing damn well you could hear every word these idiots were saying but trying to be polite and not cause a fuss or rock the boat- Most likely for his sake to keep him at his best behavior.

However that went out the window when he saw your cheeks red and bottom lip quiver like tears were about to fall as you march off to a separate room to hand out the medicine in hand.

König felt a hollowness run through him- seeing the way you practically sprinted away.

His kind sweet wife-

The women he cuddled at night, who treated his wounds and he cared for more then life itself-

The sweet woman who ran away almost in tears cause of two unimportant waste of air...

"You think so?"

König growled out, the two Cadets jumping up quickly at hearing his voice and saluting their superior.

"Colonel König-" The two young men squawked out wide eyed at the rage in their commanders eyes.

"So this is what two men on base do? Harass the medics?"

The men looked to each other, seeing a crazed and enraged look in their Colonels eye as he stepped towards them. His hands flexing like just craving to reach for the gun to his hip-

"Harrass MY Wife?-"

He all but snarled, his voice usually light and nasally now so low it rumbled their chest. The men's faces turning white as snow as their eyes widened, fear gripping their hearts. Before they could open their quivering lips to squeak out an apology the large man hands shoot out and grab them by their necks and squeeze- Pathetic squeals of pain leaving the men as they tried to try away from the giants hold and escape.

Every muscle in his arm seemed to flex as he pulled the two close to him to make sure he got to see the very light leave their eyes.

"You DARE sit here, insulting the light of my life? Dishonor her as she saves your miserable little lives.. I'm going to correct that now" He grits out as he squeezes tighter feeling the cracks under his hands and the feeling of their body struggle for air under his grasp.

You had only left the room from a moment when you heard those squeals- Rushing back to see your husband clearly about to kill the two men who had been bullying you as the other medics made sure to stand as far away as possible as König literally had the two lifted off the ground as they squirmed desperate for their lives.

"König!" You call out and rush to your husband, laying both hand on him to try and pry his hands off the two men from strangling them to death, but his calloused hands were like iron and in no way they where coming off from you pulling.

"Darling please-e you'll kill them!"

"...Even now- my Sweet Darling Perle here wishes for me to spare you. The one you wished to insult!" He yelled, you staring at him surprised by him raising his voice as his accent seemed to come even heavier.

You were surprised by how angry König was- especially openly. He was quite the reserved man and rarely truly got angry let alone enough to were he would burst like this- already seeing some other officers coming closer incase they had to take control.

"Kö?-" You ask softly, gently reaching up to have him look at you. Making his eyes meet yours as you used the gentle Nickname to ease him. His pale blue eyes now red with rage locking onto you making a trinkle of fear wash though only slightly.

"I need you to let them go, Please...Please" You begged softly, you already knew the two men would need serious medical attention after this as they where blue in the face and clearly moments from passing out from lack of oxygen as their movements slowed and began shaking.

...5 seconds passed

Then another ... 10 seconds passed

König closed his eyes finally and released the two men who collapsed to the ground like dolls, barely alive at this point. You signing in relief as two medics terrified grabbed the men to pull away to receive medical attention.

König however was still staring at you like he was looking you over silently and a feeling washed over you- Shame... You knew he saw it as well, as embarrassment of allowing yourself to be talked down to and your husband finding out in such a way, ate at you. König however grabbed your hand quickly and with as much gentleness as he could possibly muster as he lead you out of the office, no one would dare stop him anyways after the scene he just made.

He lead the two of you back to the base provided housing the two of you shared, He had been silent the whole walk there. It made your stomach do backflips as he lead you in first, you looking to him still waiting to hear something- Anything!

But instead he took off your medical clogs, and his own boots. Setting them to the side as he took your hand again and lead you upstairs. Tossing his sniper mask away somewhere along the way to your shared bedroom.

"...Kö?.." You say softly, But he doesn't stop. Instead walking both of you to the master bedroom and setting you on the bed. As he dug through the dresser, tossing things at random around as he seemed on a mission before your eyes.

"Felix?" You finally say, seeing how he stopped and looked back at you. Much to your surprise his eyes were soft, so very soft-

"Ja, mein Herz?" He said as softly as his gaze at you, reaching back in the drawer as he seemed to find exactly what he was looking for.

You open your mouth to speak- But unsure what to say. Shifting a bit uncomforbly as embarrassment still bubbled in your chest.

"I'm sorry.." You mumbled out, Unsure of what else to say. He closed his eyes, closing the drawer silently as he held the fabric in his hands calmly.

"Why are you apologizing?" He questioned softly, walking over to you as you looked down at your bare feet, seeing his shadow loom over you.

"Better question is why you let them insult you.. Why?" Your silence followed for a few seconds before it felt like a dam burst through you.

"I.. I.. I thought in some way.. they were right" You finally let the words fumble from your lips- Still not meeting your husband's gaze as tears began to roll down your cheeks trying to wipe them with the best of your abilties.

"It's hard.. It's so hard sometimes to act like they don't effect me- It's just I know I'm not tiny or- what people assume- I just, All the talks of you and supposed brothels-s and I-Im not the little fit girls who stare up at you- I thought I'd be used to it- I-I just feel like I- it was like they w-were the voice in the back of my head"

Tears continued to roll down your cheeks as you sobbed- unsure of what pent up emotion brought this on, Maybe it was the late nights on missions- or the whispers of nurses talking about how a lot of soilder would go rush to brothels to get away from their wives- How they all had in some way a inkling of desire for your husband either for power, his size or even just because they thought they could.

It just had all had slammed into you at once as you cried sitting there on the bed, König staring down at you as you let it all out.

He down settling on his knees before you. Beginning to wipe your tears with his hands as you sniffled and tried to stop your tears. Caressing your flushes cheeks as he stared at you, only love in his eyes as he kissed your forehead softly.

"(Y/N), What silly silly thoughts you have my Darling Wife.. Thinking id run chasing crusty little skirts and fowl smelling panties when I have the prettiest wife on earth?" He said with a soft smile.

A smile went over your lips slowly as you sniffled and let a giggle leave you. "Dont be rude Felix" You manage out as you smile at your husband- He tsk dismissively.

"Its True Perle! You are the most darling women in the world, If you think I'd run in such petty things- Clearly I have not shown you how much he you mean to me"

He held your hands close, kissing them as he stared at you.

"You are and will always be the only women for me. I'll do anything for you- Ill never dishonor you. You are most precious to me" He said softly, watching the way your eyes shone as a smile crept over your lips. Much happier tears now in your eyes making him smile as he kissed your cheeks once more.

"Cry baby..." He said softly earning a giggle from you and the softest tap to his outer thigh with your foot. König leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss, his hands unwrapping from your own as he held your cheek with one as another wrapped around your hip to pull you close.

"Felix?" You Squeak out as you looked up to your husband taking off the top of his uniform with a grin as he stared down at you like you were his last meal and he was a starved man- reaching his hands under your scrubs starting to slide them up feeling your soft skin underneath with a damn near giddy gleam.

You hadn't even noticed till you felt yourself being tilted back and your back hitting the back of the mattress. König pulling back from the kiss to properly move up towards you.

His massive form now shadowing you as he leaned over you.

"Now My Darling Dove, allow me to show truly how much I adore you and your body in every way~"

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savagemickey03 · 3 days ago

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-Bonus Bits: The Avengers' Therapist-

Bisexual Female Reader x The Avengers

Some Smutty Bits For You ❤️

This is 18+ only. Minors DNI

The Series Masterlist

•Wanda x Nat x Reader (Overstimulated)

Wanda's fingers were rough and fast inside of you. They wouldn't slow down, forcing you to that edge over and over again.

"Please," you cried, pulling your face away from between Nat's legs. "I can't take anymore."

Nat dragged you back. "No one told you to stop," she scolded.

"You will keep going," Wanda said to you. She curled her fingers and you released an uncontrollable yell. "Until you make Natasha cum."

• Clint x Reader (Avengers Voyeurism)

You knew the days of you getting by with teasing Clint were limited, but you never expected him to drag Natasha into it.

Actually, that sounded exactly like something he would do. He knew Nat loved to torture you, and what Nat loved was bringing everyone in to watch.

She held your arms immobile as Clint fucked you hard and slow.

You moaned, throwing your head back on Nat's shoulder.

"Are you going to cum in front of everyone?" she asked. She used her other hand to gather your sweaty hair from the nape of your neck.

"That's right," Clint grunted, his thrusts increasing pace. You could feel your body tense, unintentionally clenching on him. He let out a shaky breath. "Show the team how much you love for them to watch you."

Tony x Reader (Cockwarming)

"I can't," you whined. Your insides felt like liquid and you were quite literally dripping onto the floor. You were so full.

"Thought you said you wanted to help, Doc," Tony said, seemingly unfazed despite being buried deep inside of you. "I haven't been able to sit this still in forever."

You squirmed, desperately trying to lift your hips for some kind of friction, but he held you still.

------------------Author's Note-------------------------

As always, not a smut writer so please be kind. Hope you enjoyed this series. ❤️

@inluvwithfictionalwomen @pancakefan7529 @sugarrush-blush @royalmuffinsworld @ichala @cricket-reader @almosttoopizza @dont-staple-waffles @lilylovelyxo @fishdawgs @lyracarvahall @meeksmusic83 @superchumchum @dracanah @elmontsmile @wolf-phoenix-lover @2234world @thunderinglava @badasswithafatass0 @crookedkoala69 @ilovesebastianstan @youre-amazing-say-it @purpler4shol4ser @imdoingbetternow @alchemxx @bibibucky @simpsformarvelwoman @agustdeeyaa @miaajnielsen @ripofflizzie @sammywammy1 @acornacreacure @marvel-lover-shel @jay-anxiety @athenathewise @fxckmiup @themayzittcha @uselessastheginlasagnaa @fallenlmao

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savagemickey03 · 3 days ago

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TEETH.

Sergei Kravinoff might be a villian, and you a hero; but at the end of the day you're both animals.

A/N: First fic in a while so my bad if it sucks. You already know this movie was basically ass but we only watched it for ATJ anyway - I'm changing some of Kraven's character so he's similar to the comics/Spider-Man 2 game, so be sure to read the tags bc he’s a lil dark…

Word count: 2.3K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Spiderwoman! Reader / Breeding / Unprotected + rough sex

Kraven feared nothing.

It simply wasn’t in his blood; not his staunchly machismo upbringing, nor in his DNA, quite literally having that of a lion. Fear made one weak. Fear made you less of a man. Fear was what killed his mother.

If anything, fear was just another animal; ready to be captured, killed and conquered, ultimately destined to be draped across his chiselled body or mounted on a wall.

You were simply no different.

He never really understood why people were afraid of spiders, but he knew that they were a nuisance, having haunted him since he was a boy. Spiders weren’t savages like lions or bears, but they were sneaky; crawling around in the dark and waiting to strike, with a face so obscured that you’d never really know what you were looking at...what they were thinking.

But now, with your mask off, he could see you clearly. Fear; clouding your eyes and consuming your lungs as you heaved, choking on the intensity of the emotion itself as your pupils darted between the beige, bloodied teeth on his necklace and a crossbow pointed right at your heart.

“So, you’re the insect causing me all this trouble?” the man mused; legs crossed upon a desk as he eyed you. “I should’ve known.”

“Should’ve known what? You know nothing about me.”

“You’re a girl.”

“Sexist, much.”

He chuckled.

“Far from it. My father, however, was quite the traditionalist. He would’ve done much worse by now.”

There was a heavy silence as you swiped at your bottom lip. Much to your dismay, blood had begun to dry, and you were left with a salty, scratchy throat. Liquid, some of any kind, would’ve been appreciated, but you knew all too well that Kraven wasn’t one for showing mercy. Like all the villains you’d encountered, you’d had a push-pull relationship with the Hunter since the very beginning. He created a plan; you foiled it, sometimes you’d get your ass beat but the ending was almost always the same – with you safe from harm's way, and a bloodthirsty ego chipped away, but momentarily put to rest.

On this occasion you’d slipped up, your Spidey-senses failing you and placing you right into harm's way, shipped into the back of a van and somehow escorted to a somewhat uncharacteristically lavish mansion.

You'd always found Kraven to be a man of contradictions; whether he realised it or not. He was the best and worst of both worlds, a hunter with all the grit of someone who’d been fighting their entire life as a poverty-stricken rogue, and yet you’d come to learn that he was a Russian aristocrat, hence his rather extensive knowledge and unrelenting desire for control. Still, nothing took away from the fact that he was a brute, not even his strikingly good looks.

“Just shoot me and be over it,” You continued, watching as he lowered his feet from atop the desk and strolled over to you. “You didn’t need to drag me all the way here.”

He looked even bigger than usual, but perhaps it was because you were perched uncomfortably on a chair, arms bound behind you as you craned your neck to look up at him. Your mind couldn’t - no, didn’t - want to fathom what he was thinking of you from this angle.

“Don’t get me wrong, I care nothing about your secret. I just wanted to look you in the eye.” He mused, rummaging through his back pockets. Your breath hitched in your throat as he slid a knife from its sheath, finely carved and sharpened and lowered it to his side before pacing around you, stopping as his firm torso pressed up against the tip of your neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for your neck to be split open, only to be released from your bounds.

Instinctively, you went to shoot some webs, hoping you could at least catapult yourself across the room, but he tightly grasped your wrists, steadying your arms in place.

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” he sneered. “These are antiques.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fuck you.”

“Get up,” he announced suddenly, almost dragging you to your feet. Hesitantly, you began to shuffle out of the room, overwhelmed by the seemingly endless walls and corridors, all framed in ivory and the finest mahogany. “Keep walking until I tell you to stop.”

You continued down the hall, opting for a straight line. It seemed to be the correct way as once you passed into the threshold of a room that had a velvet chaise lounges and a dresser, he dropped his hands from their grip on your own, closing the door behind you. Oddly enough, you never heard the click of a latch.

Without a word, he walked past you to open the drawer, rummaging through the contents. It utterly baffled you why you didn’t feel the urge to protest, or even fight. The entire ordeal was feeling more like a glorified house tour with a side of intimidation rather than a future crime scene.

Was it because he was handsome? Wild? Filthy rich? Whatever happened to your values? Perhaps Jameson was right.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the man placing something in the desk, curling his finger to beckon you towards him.

“See this? This is what keeps me going,”he said, rolling a vial of florescent liquid in his fingertips. “You and I are more alike than you think.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore how close he was to you. He had an earthly musk that invaded your senses, sending tingles down your spine… and to your core.

“I don’t need a drug to do what I do.”

“Never mind the drug. It’s our blood that makes us strong.”

You cocked a brow and he ignored your confused look.

“You know, I’ve always hated spiders…” he began, rubbing his beard in contemplation. “Too itchy; unpredictable. You never really know where they’re going to show up. If I ever saw one, I used to pop them like a zit.”

There was a clear disgust in his words and vacant look in his eye that sunk you into a pit of fear for perhaps the first time since regaining your consciousness. You knew that it was just about you (surely), but perhaps a weird extension of your being; something bigger, far more innate than a girl in a spandex spider suit.

“But then I realised that for their size, they’re deadly. Powerful, even. Recently I’ve wondered what it would look like if I harnessed it myself.”

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your dry throat once more.

“A drop of blood usually does the trick.”

He tutted. Perhaps you were being too fickle.

“No, любимец [darling], not that way. I crave something more.”

Your eyes darted to the lounge. Since when did Spider-Woman lack composure? Kraven’s impenetrable gaze followed your own, and he chuckled knowingly.

“With your arachnid abilities and my strength, we could create something truly unique. Nature has its ways, you know.”

“You’re sick,” you replied, your chin held high but your bottom lip wobbled. “I’ll never join you. What you do is immoral.”

Kraven furrowed his brows.

“You killed a man, and you talk about morality?”

“He was a bad man.”

“He was my brother.”

The word humanised him a bit. The Chameleon wasn’t your most imposing foe, but he was still a challenge you’d been rather glad to conquer. It was all too often that you’d fallen into the trap of thinking that the world was black and white; good and bad, when occasionally it was grey. Kraven was allowed to grieve his brother, but at the end of the day they were both bad guys.

Then why did he turn you on so much?

“You don’t have to resist,” the man grinned, strolling towards you. He stopped, glancing down and reaching a hand up to cup the sides of your face, caressing your cheekbones and sides of your lip with his thumb, threatening to penetrate your mouth. “I’ve never been this close to you before…I can smell you.”

You were both superhuman, but he had the thirst of a predator. Quite literally. Breath hitched in your throat as he angled his lips to your ear, whispering a few fatal words.

“Give in, маленький паучок [little spider]. Your body yearns for me.”

One large hand was wrapped around your neck as he kissed you, his wild beard scratching against your face as his other hand snaked down your suit, down to between your thighs. The latex did nothing to offer you safety, his callouses prodding at your wet slit and beginning to rub in small circles, oh-so internationally slow, making sure he pressed against the hood of your clit.

He had you as soon as a small moan escaped your lips. It’d been a while since you’d been touched, let a alone by someone who was as well-travelled as The Hunter himself, and every kiss, nibble and squeeze was sending you into a deeper spiral of lust and guilt that you could barely fathom that you’d already made your way to the lounge.

You pulled away as your calves collided with the frame, lips wet and parted as you glanced up at him – wholly helplessly. His hand remained firm on your face, angling his head as he smirked at your shielded demeanour, a far cry from the flashy superhero you’d been but an hour ago.

“Kra—“

“Don’t call me that,” he said through gritted teeth. “Call me Sergei. I need to hear you say it.”

The name rolled from your lips as a cry as he bunched the sides of your suit in his hands and tearing it apart, exposing your bare pussy and ass, with strands of fabric shaping your legs like a makeshift garter. He grinned, large hands frantically groping at your thighs and ass, spreading your cheeks apart and exposing your hot core to the cool air.

“прекрасный.” [Gorgeous] he moaned, swatting at your ass before dipping his fingers inside you, rubbing your folds between his fingers as you coated him in your juices. Grasping your hands around his thick neck, you clung onto what you could as he explored your body, lowering you down onto the smooth velvet.

It wasn’t long before he straddled you, holding your body down with his pelvis as he removed his jacket, giving you an eyeful of his crafted torso. Unsurprisingly, he had the body of a God, with a prominent v-line and happy trail pointing down to between his legs. Even through his heavy trousers you could make out his bulge, mounded and ready for you.

You gasped in anticipation, watching as the man withdrew his cock from his briefs; red and girthy, with precum spilling from his tip. Skilfully, he spread your thighs, making sure they were safely by your sides (he’d seen how flexible you were, your ankles touching your ears was nothing) and lifting your lower back slightly off the cushions, pushing into you with a deep sigh.

At first, his intrusion was a dull ache, but as he began to move his hips against your own you felt utterly fulfilled, moaning and writhing as he wasted no time in daggering your wanting pussy, making sure you felt every inch.

“Sergei...” you cried, eyes fluttering shut as you flung your head back in pleasure. “Please...”

“Say it again.”

Words evaded you.

The man grinned, flashing his canines as he tightened his grip, compelling him to fuck you harder. The whole ordeal was obscene; New York’s most treasured hero being bent into submission by the villain of the week, a scene so heinous that it was all the more endearing, and with every thrust you knew you wanted him more. Sergei didn’t care whether his combat boots scuffed the fine upholstery, or if his grip on your waist would leave a few bruises – he just wanted to own you.

He huffed as his heavy balls slammed repeatedly against your crack, beginning to bottom out in you with every hit, so much so that it looked like you were conjoined.

Even through the strain in your legs you could tell you were close, knots in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel as your walls clenched around him, earning a delighted rumble from deep within his chest.

You knew that he wasn’t one for talk, but you would’ve appreciated the warning that he was about to come. Every guy you’d been with tended to get sloppier, but he grew stronger, the literal animal in him taking over as he began to ramble and curse through gritted teeth in Russian.

Sergei threw his head back as he held you down, hands pawing your breasts and strands of hair sprawled in a beautiful mess across his face as he came, ropes of hot white cum spilling into your pussy just as you dressed his cock in a silky sheen. Your chests heaved as you desperately tried to come down from your high, glancing down at your messy nether regions as his seed began to seep out of you.

There was no going back. Nine months began now.

Would it really be all that bad?

It all went back to fear, really. In the back of his mind the thought of a spider still troubled Sergei, but at least he’d conquered it. Even if it was temporary.

FIN.

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savagemickey03 · 3 days ago

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Unrequited love. (I will always think that this is something that breaks hearts painfully slow)

Simon Riley x Reader.

You’ve always known that loving Simon Riley was a dangerous thing. Not because of the nightmares that clawed at his mind or the ghosts that followed him like a shadow. No, it was dangerous because he never saw you the way you saw him.

And maybe that was your fault. Maybe you should have walked away before the feelings sank in too deep, before your heart curled around him like ivy, clinging even when it hurt.

But you never did.

Not when he smiled at you, a rare thing that made your chest ache. Not when he held you close after missions, his breathing unsteady, as if he needed to remind himself that you were still there. And certainly not when he whispered your name like a prayer in the quiet hours of the night.

It was easy to believe you meant something to him.

Until her.

She was everything you weren’t. Soft laughter and bright eyes, warmth in the way she touched him, an ease in how she held his attention. And he looked at her the way you had spent years looking at him.

You remember the exact moment you knew.

It wasn’t when he first mentioned her name, or even when he started spending more time away. It was when he showed up at your door, eyes shining in a way you’d never seen before.

“She said yes,” he breathed, almost disbelieving.

And you smiled.

God, you smiled so wide it hurt, because that’s what friends do. They don’t break apart in front of the people they love. They don’t let the cracks show.

So you pulled him into a hug, let him crush you in his arms as he whispered about how happy he was. You buried your face into his shoulder, blinking back the sting in your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Because he never looked at you like that.

And he never would.

—

You don’t go to the wedding.

You have an invitation, of course. It sits untouched on your counter, the elegant lettering spelling out his name alongside hers, mocking you every time you pass it.

Soap calls. Gaz texts. They ask if you’re coming, if you’re okay, if you need anything. You lie through your teeth, tell them you’re sick, that you’re busy, that you don’t want to intrude.

Simon doesn’t call.

You don’t think he notices your absence until much later.

Maybe it’s when the party winds down, when he’s alone for the first time in hours, when the realization creeps in like a whisper.

Maybe it’s when he looks around the reception, searching for you without even realizing he’s doing it. When he catches Soap's somber expression, the way Gaz avoids his gaze.

Maybe it’s not until years later, when the honeymoon phase fades and real life settles in. When he finds himself thinking of you in quiet moments, wondering why you aren’t around as much anymore, why it feels like something is missing.

You relocate. A different base. A different team.

You relocate to spare yourself.

—

Years Later

The news reaches him too late.

Simon is sitting in the common hall, watching the rain streak down the window, when his phone buzzes. He answers out of habit, not expecting much.

Soap's voice is quiet. Too quiet.

He barely hears the words over the rushing in his ears.

A mission gone wrong. Too much blood lost before help arrived. You were alone, left behind by your new team.

Gone.

The funeral is small. Simple. He doesn’t speak. Just stands at the back, hands clenched into fists, watching as they lower the casket into the ground.

Soap stands beside him, but no one else does. Not her. Not his wife. She hadn’t asked where he was going, and he hadn’t told her.

Because how could he explain it? How could he explain the way his ribs felt like they were caving in, the way his lungs burned with every breath? How could he explain that this loss felt different than any other?

He doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t say goodbye.

He just stands there, watching as they cover you with dirt, as the last piece of you disappears from his sight.

And for the first time, he wonders if maybe—just maybe—he loved you all along.

But now, he’ll never get the chance to tell you.

And that is the worst part of all.

—

Months Later

It happens on a quiet night.

Simon is going through old boxes in the closet, looking for something long forgotten. His wife is asleep in the next room, unaware.

He’s sifting through old mission reports, books, scraps of things that don’t matter—until he finds it.

A letter.

His name is scrawled across the front in your handwriting, the ink slightly smudged, like you hesitated before writing it.

He shouldn’t open it. He knows that.

But he does anyway.

His hands shake as he unfolds the paper. The words blur in front of his eyes, but he forces himself to focus.

Sim,

I don’t know if I’ll ever send this. Maybe it’s just for me. But if you’re reading it, then I guess I wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud.

I loved you. I loved you in all the ways a person could love someone. And I never told you because I knew—God, I knew you didn’t feel the same. And that’s okay. I never expected you to.

I just wanted you to know.

I hope she makes you happy. I hope she gives you the kind of love I always wished I could.

And I hope, someday, I stop wishing things had been different.

—Y/N

The paper crumples in his grip.

His chest is too tight, his throat burning as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Because fuck.

He should have known.

Should have seen it.

But it’s too late.

It’s too late, and you’re gone, and all he has left is the ghost of what could have been.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all.

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savagemickey03 · 5 days ago

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A Demon's Curiosity MICHAEL x gn!Reader x SIMEON 0.6k Words | NSFW | Asmo + Reader POV A/N: I've thought about how this scene might play out and felt like writing a drabble for it. It's humorous and light-hearted. Typical warnings for suggestive content apply. First: Angels at the Door | Previous: Angels' Commendation.

Asmo’s lips curl into a teasing smirk. “So, how long have you been fucking Michael?”

You stared at Asmo in shock, and your mouth opened and closed pitifully while you tried to come up with something to say. The longer you stood there gaping at him in silence, the more amused he looked.

"How...how did you know?" you finally squeaked out.

He waved his hand at you. "I'm the Avatar of Lust, my dear. It's my job to be observant about these things." He leaned forward and poked your chest gently, in the exact spot where Simeon sucked a mark onto your skin that morning. "He did a good job hiding these, but I can tell you're a bit tender today."

"That was actually Simeon, but—" you cut off when Asmo grinned at you with all his teeth like this was the juiciest bit of gossip he ever heard.

"Interesting," he murmured.

"—anyway, I would appreciate it if you, uhh, kept this to yourself. About Michael."

Asmo knew about your relationship with Simeon already, and most of his brothers suspected it or pretended it wasn't happening underneath their noses, but Michael—well, you both knew that would complicate things.

He shook his head and his teasing grin faded into something softer and more genuine. "You have enough to worry about without me making it worse. If they find out about it, it won't be from me—I promise."

You sighed deeply in relief. "Oh, thank you." You turned back to your bags and resumed searching for his gift from the Celestial Realm.

"I do have one more question, though."

Oh no.

"How big is Michael's cock?"

You stared at him incredulously over your shoulder. "I don't believe you."

But Asmo raised his hands placatingly. "You can't blame me for being curious!"

You hid your flustered expression when you started going through your bags with more urgency than before. "I'm not talking about this."

"Okay, fine, we don't have to talk about it," he said in a pouty tone. But when you turned to give him a grateful smile, you sputtered when you noticed he was holding his hands in front of him. "Here, I'll move my hands apart, and you just tell me when!"

Oh my god.

You found the small basket of Celestial flower bodycare you bought for him and yanked it out of the duffle bag it was buried in. "Oh, look, I found your present! Time to go." You turned around and shoved it into his hands and you tried to pull him out of his seat and push towards the door.

He laughed and tried to dig his heels into the carpet. "Oh, come on, there's so much more I think we should chat about—"

A dull buzzing noise caught both your attentions. You realized it was coming from your D.D.D. somewhere on your bed, and you couldn't have been happier for the interruption.

"Aww, do they miss you already?" Asmo cooed at you.

"It might not even be them," you lied through your teeth. You knew in your gut exactly who was calling.

"That's adorable," Asmo chirped. "You know, if you want help taking some boudoir photos—"

"Stop."

"—or if you want to record an intimate video to send them, you know where to find me."

You slammed the door as soon as you managed to push him into the hallway, and you closed your eyes and took several deep, calming breaths. You waited until his twinkling laughter faded away before you picked up your phone.

(You pretended you weren't grinning ear-to-ear when you finally answered.)

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savagemickey03 · 10 days ago

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Lover of Mine. || Masterlist

When I take a look at my life, and all of my crimes, you’re the only thing that I think I got right.

Summary: When your marriage to Angel fell through you weren’t surprised. High school sweethearts never make it. The loss of his mother broke Angel in a way even you couldn’t fix. It left him in a state where he couldn’t balance coping and keeping his family together. You never believed you were meant for the lifestyle that came with the club, and you hated Angel for believing it was all he was destined for. As he threw himself into the MC, you focused on raising your son with Angel at a safe distance. But as your son grows older you realize that, although strong, a mother’s love can never replace a father.

“How come you and daddy aren’t married?”

The question raised cuts through and halts the room’s conversation.

Your son’s eyes pass over the quiet room before dropping down to watch you finish tightening his tie. The silence makes the eight-year-old wonder if he hadn’t spoken loud enough.

“It’s just…Adam’s mom said it’s bad for people to have babies when they’re not married…”

Jeyson’s voice quickly dies out at the sound of the front door opening. It was a conversation he wasn’t meant to hear, but he’d heard it nonetheless. There was much more to the late-night conversation, shared between Adam’s mother and father, that your son doesn’t share. Words that Jeyson was shocked to hear coming from the parents of his best friend. Words about his father that cause Jeyson’s eyes to drop to his lap as Angel rounds the corner.

Keep reading

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savagemickey03 · 10 days ago

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“How’s the Whore”

A Bishop Losa x Reader(You) Imagine

Warnings:18+Only, as always. Language, fluff, and slight angst.

Bishop stood in front of his sons memorial site, staring down at the flowers, that were left there, by his ex wife. “Doesn’t get any easier, does it,” he heard her voice say, from behind him.

“It never will, Querida,” he said softly, as he put his hands into his jean pockets, his thumbs hooking over the hems.

“Didn’t think you’d bother coming today, Obispo,” she folded her arms against her thin, frame, her eyebrow raising at him. “You’re not drunk, either? It’s 10Am..You slowing down, old man.”

Bishop scoffed, “wait till 5pm hits, I’ll be sloshing around in no time,” he smiled over at her.

“Oh, so, now, you’re on a responsible, drinking schedule,” she eyed him suspiciously.

“Yeah, let’s just say, I got put on a leash,” his ex wife eyed him, noticing his smile getting bigger, and his eyes lighting up.

“Hmm,” she paused staring at the small cross in front of her, “how is the whore?” she watched him from the corner of her eye.

He smirked, tipping his head down, “She’s not a whore.”

“She’s actually why I’m here, she pushed me to come here,” he wiped away some of the dirt that had collected on the decorated cross. “Said I was spending too much time mourning his life, and not enough time celebrating it,”

“celebrating him,” tears started to form in the hard man’s eyes. “Got into a huge fight about it, actually,” frowning as he continued, “told her I didn’t get with a younger woman, to talk about my feelings,”

Antonia turned to him, “I know, you guys didn’t start messing around, till we were done, I’m just busting your balls.”

“You were always good at that,” he winked at her, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Obispo, honestly,” she sighed.

“I like this one,” his ex wife paused for a second, searching for her words, Bishop’s head turned towards her, he listened intently, to what she had to say, “If she’s got you on a drinking schedule, AND, actually hashing your feelings out,” unclasping her arms, she turned to him, and grabbed both his upper arms, “Go home, and fix it Obispo, before you lose her too,” turning she said goodbye, pulling off, to leave the Mayan, to think about what she had said.

She liked her? That, he was not expecting. What he hadn’t known was, that you took time to make a nice lunch, bringing it to her office, you two had talked for hours. Antonia had wanted to kick you out of her office, on first sight, but after listening to what you had to say, she realized that you may be more of a friend, than an enemy.

Antonia accepting that the love you had for Bishop, was exactly what he needed. No traumas between the two of you, to try and work through. A fresh start. She made her peace with you that day, content that Bishop wouldn’t spend his days piss drunk, and alone.

————————————

Bishop walked into his house, the smell of something sweet hitting his nostrils. Walking into the kitchen, he watched as you pulled the cake from the oven, your face scrunching up from the heat.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he waited till you removed the mittens from your hands, then tugging you by your hand, to lean against the front of him, “You were right,” he hugged you to him, laying a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m sorry, Querida, I’m sorry I’m such a fucking asshole,” you looked him in his eyes, before kissing him, slowly.

“I’m sorry, if I pushed you too hard..I just wanted to help. I love you,” your smile was soft, as you looked into his eyes, your arms wrapping slightly, tighter around him, in fear he might push you away, again.

“I know, Querida, I know,” his hand cupping your cheek, as his thumb feathered against your skin. Bishop wrapped his arms back around you, nuzzling into your neck, and breathing in, “I love you too, sweetheart, more than life.”

The two of you, stayed like that for a few minutes, your chests rising, and falling in sync with each other, before Bishop eyed the cake you had just baked. “What’s with the cake, Querida,” he asked, tilting his head, quizzically.

You had started to spread the frosting, the doorbell ringing, as Bishop grabbed a beer from the fridge, “I thought we should celebrate him, right.” He deserves that,” you smiled, as you wrote the happy birthday message, across the flat, top of the cake.

Coming up to your side, Bishop put his hand to the side of your head, then placed a lone kiss to your temple. “Now, go get the door Obispo, before our guest leaves,” you licked the small bit of frosting from your thumb, moving away from him, and carrying the cake dish to the table.

The doorbell rang, once more, before Bishop opened it, his brows furrowing, he turned to the kitchen, as you placed the little blue candles, atop the cake. “You were right.” “She is a keeper,” bishop spoke, smiling towards the surprise, guest.

“I mean, when am I ever wrong, Obispo,” Antonia hugged his side, before walking over to you, beaming.

“I love you baby boy, thanks for looking out for your stubborn, Papi, kid,” he kissed the top of his fingers, then pressed them to the picture, on the wall, “cause I know this was all you, son,” he whispered, thankfully.

——————————

Cause this is how grown, I am ♥️

Hope this hits you right in the feelers!

Hit that like, comment or reblog, to let ya girl know how she did. 🌹♥️

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savagemickey03 · 10 days ago

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A Woman Like You pt2

Pairing: Bishop x f!Reader (no description of body type or race is mentioned however please let me know if i missed anything!)

Word Count: 5.8k🥵

Summary: Ever since you've confirmed your relationship with Bishop, things have been great, with one minor exception: the club hang-arounds don't know how to keep their hands off of your man.

Warnings: smut smut smut, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), pussy slapping, titty slapping, fingering, spitting, rough sex, a bit of exhibitionism and voyeurism, unprotected sex (wrap it up and get tested regularly y'all ain't wanting any std's), use of good girl, fluffy ending

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Buy me a coffee!

tagging: @est1887 @melaniecraig80 @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @sincerelyasomebody @massivecolorspygiant @glossaye @xeniarocks @goosa @amorestevens @vikingstoner69 @withmyteeth @lyly00

a/n: i kinda have a plot for part 3??? if you want a part 3 let me know and y'all can give me some ideas!!

Posting new fics over on @michaelirby

Of course I am. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.

Three weeks have passed since you said those words, officially confirming your relationship with Bishop. With that confirmation comes a rollercoaster of a relationship, granted there have been more (much more) highs than lows. These ‘highs’ consist of numerous dates, whether to a new diner every week, to the bowling alley, hell, you even managed to convince Bishop to try out mini-golfing (which was more fun than he cares to admit).

The ‘lows’, however, have consisted solely of one thing: the women at the clubhouse don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. Whether it’s because they don’t respect you, or because they’re not used to seeing Bishop with a woman of his caliber, you don’t care. What you care about is making sure everyone knows that you are Bishop’s, and he is yours.

The first two Saturdays you attended a clubhouse party as Bishop’s girl, you didn’t necessarily mind the wandering eyes. You definitely don’t blame them, your boyfriend (and god it makes your heart skip being able to call him that) is handsome, sexy, and any other synonym that describes how absolutely beautiful your man is.

Tonight, though, tonight you’re putting an end to the stares and whispers and women trying in vain to catch Bishop’s attention. Not only is it tiring, but it’s also irritating.

So, donning a satin red dress, a black belt cinched around your waist, and black heels to match, you’re pretty sure you might get into some trouble tonight. That’s fine, you think. At least they’ll know not to fuck with me.

Now, actually walking into the clubhouse makes you pause as you calculate how to go about this. Finding a balance between physically teaching those girls a lesson and having a civil (not really) talk to them is hard. Personally, you couldn’t care less about standing your ground. The dilemma here is that you don’t want to cause a riff between you and Bishop, you don’t want to cause a scene big enough to embarrass him.

“Cariño,”

You jump, Bishop’s voice and sudden presence startling you as his arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest. A finger, thick and long, appears under your chin to tilt your head upwards. With slightly pursed lips, Bishop leans down to place a kiss, soft and slow, to your own lips. This is… odd. You’d never turn down Bishop’s kisses, but you aren’t used to him being this affectionate in public, especially with his brothers so close by.

These lips, the same ones you’ve kissed about a hundred times over the last four weeks, glide and part just so that Bishop’s tongue can peek out and tease your lips. A content sigh escapes your lips, allowing yourself this moment of serenity before the fight for your respect as Bishop’s girlfriend.

This kiss goes on for maybe 30 more seconds, soft sighs leaving Bishop’s mouth as well. When you pull apart, you curl your lips into a smile and glance upwards at him.

“What was that for?” You whisper, not breathless, it’s something else, some emotion swirling throughout your whole body. You can’t place what it is exactly, but you know it’s a positive emotion.

Instead of replying right away, Bishop leans down to press feather-light kisses along your jaw. He stops to nibble at your neck for a second before hovering his lips over your ear. Hot breath fanning over your neck sends shivers down your spine as he whispers, “I know what you’re doing, showin’ up here dressed like that. Staking your claim and all that.”

Your eyes involuntarily roll. Sometimes you forget that you and Bishop have been friends for years, he’s dangerously perceptive, especially when it comes to you.

“But,” He continues, “You’re not going to cause a scene. I’ve already made it clear to everyone that you are mine, my only. So be a good girl tonight, yeah?” Ending his question with a nip at your ear, Bishop pulls back and gives you one final kiss.

Now, you’d like to think that since you’re headstrong and tough, you’d be able to vocalize your disagreement with his statement. But, truthfully, his gruff yet smooth-like-honey voice telling you to be a good girl makes your heart drop (into your panties). It’s left you nearly speechless because, and no offense to Angel, even he couldn’t make you feel the things Bishop does.

Finding yourself nodding, you let Bishop escort you into the clubhouse. Quickly, you’re snapped out of your trance-like state as soon as heads turn in your direction, a few whistles being heard despite the music. Confidence finds you once more, head held high as Bishop’s arm slides down to circle around your waist while he walks you to the far end of the clubhouse. Taza, Hank, and a few Mayan men from other charters surround the back table, at least a dozen beers scattered atop the wood.

“Hey sweet thing!” Comes from your left, and you see Taza standing from his seat to come towards you with his arms open.

This comment makes both you and Bishop chuckle, even before you started dating Angel Taza has always been extra sweet on you. It doesn’t bother you, nor Bishop, seeing as how Taza has taken you under his wing from the moment you were introduced to the club.

“Hello, handsome,” Your voice gets muffled as your face gets squished into Taza’s shoulder, him wrapping an arm around yours and pulling you into his side.

Pulling apart, you make your rounds to greet everyone at the table. Hugging Hank, shaking hands with another charter’s president, overall just smiling and waving to the crowded table. While you may be carefree and naturally defiant, you know when to tone it down and be relaxed.

Right now is not one of those times. As soon as Bishop pulls out a chair for you, you notice a woman walking towards you both holding a beer and hiking her skirt up ever so slightly. The need to be petty overtakes your body, so you’re quick to guide (more like push) Bishop into said seat. The woman is five feet from the table when you place yourself in Bishop’s lap, a hand snaking its way to his neck, fingertips playing with the short curls at the bottom of his hair.

A small frown makes its way onto the woman’s face, disappointment flashes across her face before she straightens up and continues to saunter closer. Head turned to talk to Taza at the opposite side of the table, you ignore the woman who decided to boldly place a beer in front of Bishop and say, “Here you go handsome.”

She’s really asking for it, you think to yourself when she tries resting her arm on Bishop’s bicep. Bishop, however, is quick to thank her and reach for his beer, waving her away while turning to join the conversation you and Taza are having.

This satisfies you greatly, especially as Bishop slithers one arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest. With a small smirk and a wink, you know it’s his attempt to calm you down. It doesn’t, though. While you’re not angry with him, you’re not too happy about the group of ladies standing by the pool tables who send glances towards you every minute or so.

“Stop it,” Bishop whispers in your ear, giving a quick pinch to your hip, right above your ass.

“Stop what?” You ask coyly, knowing full well you intend to send a message to those women.

Bishop knows this too, which is why he grips your hip hard and leans closer to your ear. “You know what. Now, be a good girl and ignore them.”

There it is again. Be a good girl. You have to suppress the urge to shiver while also suppressing the annoyance slowly taking over. You find yourself tilting your head to the side, letting your lips glide over his while you whisper back.

“I’m earning my respect one way or another, baby.” Leaning in, you press a soft kiss to his lips, pulling back and tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth. “After that, I’ll be a good girl. I’ll be good for you all night long.”

Bishop grunts, shifts his hips, and slides his hand down to rest on your ass to give it a soft squeeze. From your position atop him, you know your words got to him, the growing bulge pressing into your hip solidifies that knowledge.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Hank’s playful voice cuts through your moment, making you turn your head so you can smile innocently back at him.

And without giving Bishop time to respond to your previous statement, you return to your conversation with Taza and Hank.

_______________

An hour has passed, and so far no one else has come to bother you. With you blatantly ignoring the women still whispering behind you, and ignoring Bishop’s obvious erection, you’ve slipped into a comfortable and relaxed state. No longer are you on guard, focusing instead on enjoying the night with your man.

This enjoyment ends the moment you stand up and tell Bishop you’re going to grab you both new beers. Not even a minute has passed since you left his side and out of the corner of your eye you notice the same woman from before head for your man.

Breathe, you tell yourself. I can tell her off after I’ve gotten the beers. Except, as soon as you make it to the bar you hear a purposefully loud, “Hey there handsome.”

Whipping your head around, the woman has dared to bend down into Bishop’s line of view, cleavage on display. After deciding that you’ve had enough, you don’t bother with grabbing the beers as you make your way to where the woman is. She’s clearly being waved off, and clearly not getting the message.

“Ma’am?” You ask, faking politeness so you can say that you at least tried being nice.

She doesn’t acknowledge you, instead bending down again, further into Bishop’s personal space. Quickly, and without thinking through your actions, you grab ahold of the woman's wrist to pull her upright.

The woman is quick to spin around, her other arm swinging back, palm open. Before she even gets the chance to slap you away, you grab ahold of that wrist as well.

Now, having a hold of both of her wrists, you speak slowly and carefully. “I’m going to kindly ask that you step away from him.”

At this, she laughs, pulling her wrists from your grasp so she can put her hands on her hips. “And what if I don’t? You left him all alone, no woman good enough for Bishop would leave him to fend for himself.”

Rolling your eyes and breathing slowly, you step closer into her personal space. “Well, I think Bishop is man enough to take care of himself every now and then. I also think he’s man enough to decide who is and isn’t good for him.” Gritting your teeth and glaring directly into the woman’s eyes, you continue, “And he certainly doesn’t need you to baby him when I am the woman he chose.”

Scoffing, the woman leans forward and brings her arms up in an attempt to push you away. But you’re quicker than her, you side step her and allow her to stumble to the floor. When she tries to lift herself up, your heeled foot presses against her back, forcing her back down.

“So, I would like to make this clear for you and every other woman here who thinks it’s a good idea to get in between our relationship. I am Bishop’s only girlfriend, and he is my man. And if anyone has a problem with that, you can keep your opinions to yourself, unless you want me to physically knock some sense into you.”

You look around the room, many Mayan men, and several other women, smirk in your direction, clearly entertained with the show you’re putting on. Other women, the ones who have had their eyes set on Bishop, look intimidated. Good, you think. And when you decide that you’ve made your point, you step away from the woman and allow her friend to pull her away before she causes any more trouble.

Though you are happy with yourself, you’re unable to relish this feeling. Bishop is quick to stand up and take a hold of your bicep, forcing you to follow closely behind him. For a moment, you’d thought you’d angered him. With the tight grip he has on your arm and the quick pace he’s set, you’re almost worried you went too far. But then, you’re tugged into Templo and pushed against the nearest wall.

“The fuck did I say?” Bishop’s voice is gruff, heady with lust. “Didn’t I tell you not to start shit?” Hands wander down your sides, one gripping your waist and the other moving further down to cup and knead your ass.

Suppressing a moan, you grit your teeth and tug on Bishop’s shirt. “I didn’t start anything,” You’re cut off by your man’s lips enveloping your own, and this time you do moan. Your left arm wraps itself around Bishop’s back, hand resting on the nape of his neck. Your right arm slithers down his chest and underneath his shirt, lightly scratching his stomach.

“I don’t care who started shit, you listen to me.” Bishop grunts, then brings one hand up to squish your cheeks between his forefinger and thumb. With your mouth now open, he takes the opportunity to kiss and lick into your mouth, keeping your head as still as possible he invades every one of your senses, all you can taste, smell, feel is Bishop.

Hips press against yours, and the rock hard bulge pressing into your stomach makes you smile into the kiss, causing Bishop to pull back and press rough kisses and bites across your neck. “You said you’d be good for me, yeah?” You nod, head tilting back to rest against the wall.

“I said I’d be good after I taught them a lesson. Or did you forget?” This question is followed by a quick yet sharp pinch to Bishop’s stomach, Bishop himself hisses out in pain.

This must have frustrated Bishop, immensely so, because the next thing you know you’re being moved and pushed against the table, your front being forced to press against the wood. “Well,” A loud smack sounds through the room as he lands a hard blow to your backside. “You did that, so now,” Another smack. “You’re going to be a good slut and take my cock. Maybe I can fuck that attitude out of you.”

A series of smacks land on your ass, one after another. Each smack earns Bishop a moan, loud and drawn out spilling from your lips. And while you’re usually not a fan of exhibitionism, you can’t help but hope that your activities are being heard by everyone outside the Templo door. Maybe this is why when Bishop lands another hard smack against your backside, you cry out, loud and boisterous.

“Shut your fuckin mouth.” Smack. “You’ve done enough talking for today.” Bishop is able to land one more smack to your ass before he roughly grips a cheek, causing you to push back into his hand.

With lust and arrogance flooding your body, you turn your head to look into Bishop’s eyes and make a bold choice by saying, “Make me.”

Bishop doesn’t even bother responding, just grunts and leans over your body so he can grip your neck. With his tight hold on your neck, he hauls you up to a standing position before spinning you back around. The lust hanging in the air is intoxicating, just as intoxicating as Bishop pushing his thumb into your mouth and guiding your tongue out.

Your head is foggy, everything is going too slow, you need Bishop to fuck you already. The wetness pooling in your panties, the absolute ache building in your core kills you. So, you stick your tongue out and open your mouth, knowing full well what’s to come.

And just like you suspected, Bishop is quick to spit on your tongue, thumb massaging it around before shoving the appendage fully into your mouth. You suck on the finger, a muffled moan escaping your lips as you sneakily bring your hands to his belt. But the moment you get your hands on him, he’s slapping them away.

“Yeah…” He murmurs, licking his plump bottom lip before letting his teeth sink into it as you suck on his finger harder. “M’gonna make sure you stop with that back-talking.”

Quickly, and without thinking, you grasp Bishop’s belt once more and pull him towards you with both of your chests pressed together, his thumb slipping out. “Yeah? You gonna fuck my mouth real good? Make me choke on your cock until all I can think of is how good you make me feel?” Turning your brattiness up a notch, your hips roll into his. A single leg is able to slide up Bishop’s, trying to circle around his waist and secure him to you, but your boyfriend has other ideas.

Hauling you up on the table, Bishop maneuvers you to turn and lay down on the wood, your head nearly hanging off the side. Excitement floods your body, the only thing you can see is a rough and coarse hand undoing his belt and zipper. And then he’s pushing his pants down just enough to free his cock.

Now, you shouldn’t be surprised to see how big Bishop is. You two haven't had sex yet, preferring to take things slow and feel out this new territory (a decision that you both agreed upon but have been slowly coming to regret). But you had a suspicion that Bishop was big, you just didn’t think he was this huge.

You’ve been waiting for this day for weeks, all you’ve wanted was to get your mouth on him, to suck him until his legs give out. You wanted to make his legs shake and breathing ragged, but most of all, you wanted to taste him. Taste and savor the saltiness on your tongue. However bad you want that, you know you need Bishop to cum elsewhere first.

Lost in your thoughts, Bishop tugs you so your head is completely hanging off the edge. He’s slow about it, taking his excruciatingly hard cock in his hand and tugging and twisting to his delight. At one point, his dick is close enough that you’re able to slip out your tongue and lick around the tip. This earns you a reprimand for being too damn impatient but even Bishop can’t hold out for too long when you’re laying there, looking as inviting as ever.

Eventually Bishop places one hand on your jaw, prompting you to open wide so he can tease his cockhead into your awaiting mouth. Pulling out slowly, he repeats this process three or four times before he’s tapping his cock on your lips, chin, cheek, anywhere he deems fit.

Finally, deciding to tease you further, Bishop smooths a large hand over your throat so he can ease his cock into his personal heaven. You’re slow to suck him, choosing to lick and suckle softly, swirling your tongue around him as best you can.

Bishop pulls out, and for a moment you think he’s going to pull away completely, but he doesn’t. All he does is rest his cockhead on your lips as looks down at you.

“Do you think you’ve earned this?”

You know this is meant to tease you, to give you this thing you want only to take it away. It’s clearly a question you’re not supposed to answer, but you do anyway, as best you can without jostling his cock off of your lips.

“I don’t know, do you think you’ve earned my mouth?”

You hear a faint fuck before your mouth is stuffed full, Bishop letting loose and fucking your throat as fast as he thinks you can take. You happen to know you can take more, so you bring your hands up to wrap around the back of Bishop’s thighs and pull.

Bishop sinks deeper and deeper in your throat, hitting the back of it with every thrust while you slide your hands upwards and sink your nails into Bishop’s ass.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Bishop grunts out, leaning over you and hiking your dress up. He’s met with the sight of your black silk panties, clearly ruined by the amount of slick you’ve produced that’s now smeared across your thighs.

Roughly, your panties are torn from your body. The knowledge that Bishop is that strong and that there will one hundred percent be marks tomorrow sends shivers down your spine. And then, you feel two rough fingers spread your lips, allowing the fresh air to hit directly onto your pussy.

These fingers circle around, gathering up your wetness while still avoiding where you need him most. Frustrated, you lift your hips into Bishop’s hand while continuing to suck him down. What should have been a high pitched moan gets muffled, and you realize that Bishop just slapped your bare cunt.

Your hips press higher into his hand, earning you three more slaps, one after the other. On the final slap, he cups your crotch and forces your hips down. With this leverage he’s able to still pound into your mouth and bring you even more pleasure. The two fingers from before circle your clit, which then turns into pinching and rolling before a slap lands directly onto it.

Another should-be high pitched moan escapes your lips, the vibrations sending chills shooting up his spine and making his hips falter. Truly, Bishop must have the patience of a God, because this goes on for minutes, your clit being toyed with and smacked, all while still thrusting deep into your throat.

You, however, do not have patience right now. With pleasure building, your hands move to the front of his thighs and push. Bishop quickly pulls out and you can see worry flash across his face as you lift your head. The head rush you get is dizzying, but you right yourself quickly to turn around and face your concerned boyfriend.

“Too much?” He asks, winded.

With a hoarse voice, you say, “Of course not, but I’d rather you cum in my cunt.” Leaning in to capture his lips and bite and suck at them, you release them for a moment to whisper, “Wanna feel you fill me up.” A quick nip to his jaw and another hushed comment, “That is, of course, if you’re up for the challenge.”

“Oh, you’re going to regret this, querida.”

That’s all you concretely remember. With one fluid motion you are once again pushed flat against the table, your back flush with the wood. Bishop doesn’t bother taking your dress off, or taking his own clothes off. Suddenly, your pussy’s being stretched open and filled to the max, except, Bishop isn’t even all the way in.

Oh god, you think, what the fuck have I gotten myself into? After a minute of Bishop allowing you to adjust to his size, he pushes his hips flush to your ass, his entire length fitting snug inside you.

Heaven. That’s where you’re at right now. Your boyfriend is going feral in your pussy, pushing in and pulling out at an alarmingly fast and rough pace.

“God, Bishop!” You exclaim right as Bishop lands on that soft spongy section inside your core. This pleasure intensifies as Bishop lands thrust after thrust directly there, one of his large hands swinging back and smacking your ass so hard that it shakes you.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” Bishop can’t help smirk, his breathing coming out the tiniest bit uneven, but otherwise he’s showing no signs of tiredness.

“Bish - Fuck!” Your witty remark dies off, replaced with more expletives, filling the room with your voice and the wet and lewd slapping of skin.

“God, you’re such a good slut,” Again, you shiver at that. I’m his good slut is all you can think, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you actually said that aloud.

The angle shifts, your legs being raised and pushed towards your chest. Hungry, feral, that’s what you see in Bishop’s eyes. He’s looking at you with such want, such need, that it fills you with happiness, and gets you wetter than before. It makes your core hurt with such need that it sends your eyes clenching shut and your back arching.

“You’re made for my cock,” Bishop grunts out, thrusting at an almost inhuman speed, holding your legs back for more momentum and to look at how beautiful your pussy looks when it’s swallowing his dick.

Your breasts are bouncing rapidly, one of Bishop’s large hands coming down to grab at one. Pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers before briefly leaving your breast, only to swing down and slap them. Your loud moans are all you can hear, they become even louder when you open your eyes just in time to see Bishop spreading your pussy lips open and spitting directly onto your clit.

It’s too good, it's too good. That’s all that is running through your mind, and this is without him even touching your clit. But, with the last ounce of bravado you have left, you look him in the eyes and shakily say, “Is this all you got?”

The fire in Bishop’s eyes burns brighter, his hand shoots forward to grab hold of your neck and squeeze. Drenched doesn’t even begin to describe how horny and wet you are. You can tell you’re literally dripping on the table and the floor below. No doubt staining the front of Bishop’s pants that still sit at his mid thigh.

But this rising euphoria doesn’t get the chance to linger as Bishop suddenly, and without warning, pulls out of you. Quickly replacing it are three of his long and dexterous fingers, pumping in and out at a rapid pace, curling and spreading apart. The palm of his hand grinding down on your clit is almost enough to push you over the edge, if only he’d stop taking it away and then you could cum.

Bishop’s grip on your neck loosens just enough for your head to fall back and roll to your left, towards the door. Through your haze and pleasure and teary eyes you’re able to see that it’s not all the way closed. Blinking away more tears, you’re also able to make out the figure of two women, one of them being the woman from before. Again, you’re not really into exhibitionism, nor voyeurism, but this, the woman who tried to take your man seeing him fucking you, that turns you on more than anything.

Keeping your eyes on her, you arch your back and moan louder than before. High-pitched whimpers leaving your lips with every thrust of Bishop’s fingers.

“You finally gonna be good for me?” Gruff and gravely, you can tell Bishop has no intention of stopping if you were to act up again. However, at this point you’re too incoherent to do anything but succumb to the insurmountable pleasure your man is gracing your body with.

“Yes, yes Bishop.” You’re unsure if you’re really speaking, but now you can’t stop. “I’m good, I’m good,” Through your chants, your eyes remain locked on the woman frozen at the doorway.

“You’re my perfect little slut, yeah?” This, added with the withdrawal of Bishop’s fingers, cause you to release a sob, tears escaping your eyes and blurring your vision as you furiously nod your head.

“Yes I’m - Fuck - I’m your perfect little slut, I swear!” At this point your eyes have shifted back to Bishop, with pleading eyes you’re begging him to let you cum, you need it.

Within the span of three seconds, you’ve forgotten all about the woman at the door, you don’t even know or care if she’s still there. Your body and mind are focused on coming, and coming hard. Three more seconds later and Bishop has stuffed his cock back in your pussy, continuing to fuck you as hard as a physically can.

Your mind goes blank, vision black, back arching off the table as your orgasm continues to creep higher and higher, almost tipping over. At one point, you feel Bishop’s fingers, wet with your slick, rolling and pinching your nipple once again before quickly abandoning it in favor of shoving them in your gaping mouth.

You’re sucking his fingers like you’re starved, desperately trying to chase the taste of you on his fingertips. It’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted, you decide.

“You gonna cum for me?” You hear through the fog, and you’re not really sure if you really answer.

If you do answer, it’s something along the lines of a muffled yes, god yes, please let me cum I’ll do anything just please let me cum.

The next thing you know is Bishop pulling his fingers from your mouth, spreading your legs even wider, and hovering his thumb over your clit. “You’re my good little whore, yeah?” The thumb presses down onto your clit before quickly easing off.

Yes, a good whore i’m a good whore, m’your good slut, perfect for you.

You faintly hear Bishop chuckling before he says, “Then cum.” And then he’s pressing down on your clit again and rubbing circles across your nub rapidly.

And you do cum. The hardest you’ve ever cum in your life, definitely the best orgasm you’ve ever had. All noise fades away, your vision goes completely black, and you feel like you’re floating. ‘Cloud nine’ doesn’t even come close to how good you feel.

By the time your vision returns and your ears stop ringing, you’re able to crack open your eyelids just enough to see the absolute pleasure that is overtaking Bishop. That’s when you register that he’s coming, hot and thick ropes of his seed being shot so deep into your pussy that you fear it’ll overflow and spill onto the floor.

You don’t know if it does, truthfully you’re too tired to think, to care about anything other than Bishop. Eventually, both of your breathing evens out and with the last bit of energy you have, you clench your muscles, pussy squeezing Bishop’s cock for a moment before relaxing again.

“Fuck, baby,” He rasps out, giving one final thrust before slowly easing his way out of your very sore and very tired pussy. His finger quickly dips down to collect his cum that spills out, only to prod back into your fucked-loose hole.

“Mmmhpm.” Garbled nonsense is all you’re able to voice right now, but Bishop must have understood what you were trying to say because he is slipping his fingers out with a tired grin.

His fingers, shiny and dripping with cum, make their way to your mouth, smearing the wetness across your lips before dipping inside to give you a taste of both of your flavors.

The last thing you remember is suckling on those fingers, and then, you’re slumping down onto the table, unconscious.

_______________

Sometime later you find yourself in Bishop’s lap at the head of the table. His clothes have been put together and your dress has been adjusted as best as possible with jostling you too much.

In your post-orgasm euphoria, your head tilts up, lips puckering as a sign for your boyfriend. He grants your request, lightly gliding his lips over yours as you relish in this moment of bliss.

Shifting on his lap, you’re quick to groan and cup your crotch, the ache now ever-present.

“I’m sorry, querida.”

“Don’t be,” You’re quick to respond. “Please don’t be sorry.”

With a huff followed by a small chuckle, Bishop shakes his head as he looks down at you. “Well, let’s get you home. I’ll even run you a bath with those bombs you like so much.”

Laughing softly, it’s your turn to shake your head. “They’re called bath bombs and they work wonders.” Leaning up slowly, you press kisses from Bishop’s cheek all the way to his ear. “Besides, I don’t want to go home.”

Bishop hums, amused and probably predicting what you’re about to say. “And why’s that?”

“I want to go back out there, the party is still going and I don’t see why we have to leave early.” Stifling a yawn that you hope goes unnoticed, you wiggle your hips once more before carefully placing your hand on the wooden table and lifting yourself up. Bishop is close behind, guiding you with hands on your hips to stand on wobbly legs.

“Are you sure? You look pretty tired,” Bishop’s smile may be real, but the concern lying underneath that statement is what really stands out.

Nodding, you place one hand on Bishop’s chest and another on the back of his head, playing with the short curls.

“Your dick may be good but it’s not enough to stop me from going out there and showing off all these marks you left.”

“Well then,” He huffs, chest puffing out. “When I do get you home, I’ll be sure to show you just how good this dick really is.”

This sends shivers down your spine. The thought that that was only a warm-up to him is exhilarating. You find yourself nodding and pulling him close so you can kiss him one more time.

When you pull back, you send him the most fucked-out, satisfied smile you can, and take his hand to pull him towards the still cracked-open door.

“Querida, wait.”

You stop, turn around, and look at Bishop, worried of the bomb he might drop on you.

“Yes?”

Bishop sighs, pulls you closer so you’re enveloping one another.

“I love you,” He whispers in your ear, cupping your other cheek to steady it as he presses soft kisses along the side of your face.

Pulling back and smiling at him, you send him a wink. “I know.”

Laughter echoes through the room, loud and genuine. Your arms wrap fully around his waist and your head tilts so you too can whisper in his ear, “I love you too.”

Satisfied with your answer, Bishop pulls away to place a final kiss on your forehead before directing you to Templo’s door. After a deep breath, you slide the door open all the way to be met with most of the room’s eyes on you.

Silence hangs in the air for less than a second before whistles and cat-calls are thrown in your direction. You’re smiling bright, not even caring about proving a point to anyone anymore, you’re content to pull Bishop to his previous seat and climb in his lap once more.

“Alright, horn dogs. As I was saying…” And then Taza’s continuing his story from earlier like nothing happened.

“I do love you, querida. I need you to know that,” Bishop whispers in your ear. And you’re quick to turn your head and look into his eyes.

“I do. I know, honey.”

361 notes · View notes

savagemickey03 · 10 days ago

Text

A Woman Like You

Pairing: Bishop Losa x f!Reader (no description of body type or race is mentioned)

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Four weeks after you and Angel break up, you're in an accident. With no one left to call, Bishop comes to your rescue. While fixing your bike, he also fixes your heart.

Warnings: nothing but a whole lot of fluff, reader gets injured in a motorcycle accident but nothing is graphically described, mentions of blood, Angel kind of being an ass but so is the reader so🤷‍♀️

Commissioned by @winchestershiresauce (i'm sorry it took so long i'm stupidly busy ily)❤️

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Tip Jar

a/n: i'm strongly considering doing a part 2 with smut included so if you want that then just tell me and i'll do it!

tagging: @melaniecraig80 @est1887

Posting new fics over on @michaelirby

“Maybe we should break up then!”

While those words stung, it didn’t completely come as a surprise. Your relationship with Angel was hanging by its last thread, so when your boyfriend, now ex, came barreling towards where you stood on the clubhouse porch, you knew it wasn’t going to end well. And while the argument nor your breakup was unexpected, it didn’t hurt any less, especially since Angel had the Gaul to yell at you in front of his brothers.

Truthfully, you don’t really know what prompted this argument. At this point, it seems that you and Angel would find any reason to scream at each other. But deep in your heart, it still hurts. While you may not be in love with him anymore, you don’t care for him any less. But the anger running through your veins doesn’t consider that thought as you scream back at him.

“Fine!”

Everyone freezes, heads slowly turning to see the look of shock and hurt on each of your faces. Your heart is racing, the steady thud thud thud can be felt throughout your entire body. And with this anxiety quickly rising, you clear your throat and tilt your head slightly so you can stare at the ground for a solid minute while you contemplate your next words carefully.

“I’ll… stay at my place tonight,” Your voice is softer than you would have liked it to be, but you manage to look up and meet Angel’s eyes. The fire is still there, masking the hurt you know is about to consume his body. And you can’t stand it, because he’s still your friend. Before you got together he was your friend, and you’d hate to think that this is the end of any relationship you two could have.

“I’ll pick my things up tomorrow.”

Without another word you turn and escape into the clubhouse where, thankfully, the party is still in full swing. You’re able to dodge the drunks and weave your way through dancing bodies without being seen while on your way to retrieve your keys from the new prospect - Steve? Stan? You couldn’t really remember nor do you care to at this moment.

On shaky legs you manage to push your way to the front of the bar, hand lifting to catch the prospect’s attention. To no avail, though, he’s turned to help a slightly unruly group of patrons. After a minute of waving your hand, you huff, your hand falling down to rest on the bar you’re now leaning against. With a slow turn of your head, your eyes flicker across the room, passing over more unruly men and a few women crowded near the pool table.

A soft grunt is heard behind you, so your body moves to look at whoever could be invading your space. Upon seeing Bishop, standing tall and oozing confidence, leaning against the bar as well, you jump. A squeak escapes your lips at the small scare he gave you. It’s not that his presence intimidates you (quite the opposite actually, he’s really good at making you feel safe), you’d just assumed he’d be holed up with his brothers around the back table.

Looking over his shoulder, you can see the rest of the guys are, in fact, still around the table, presumably telling age old stories of heroics and stupidity. Bishop clears his throat, perhaps to get your attention back on him. So, you return your gaze to the man in front of you. His beard is long, his eyes tired, but his smile is genuine. In turn, you smile back at him. You hadn’t expected to cross paths tonight, but seeing him puts you in a better mood than you were five minutes ago.

“I heard a commotion happened outside, everything okay?” Bishop asks a furrow in his brow telling you he genuinely wants to know that you’re okay. That’s a perk of being friends with him, while he looks tough and mean, his words and actions speak volumes in terms of how much he cares for the people in his life.

Nodding your head, you sigh, body slumping against the bar counter. “Yeah, just - Angel.... We broke up,” You mutter, tightening your hold on your beer and bringing it up to your lips. You take quite a big gulp of the alcohol before returning your attention to Bishop. “I’m not surprised it happened, but… it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

The pounding in your heart rattles your ribcage as you fight off tears. Crying in a clubhouse full of people isn’t on your to-do list for the day, so you lean back over the bar counter to search for your keys, finding them in a bowl on the back side of the bar.

“Let me drive you home.” His voice isn’t loud or commanding, but it’s still not phrased as a question. You snap your head to the side to look at Bishop again, ready to turn that idea down. Instead of speaking, Bishop pulls his keys out of his pocket and gently takes your arm so he can lead you out of the clubhouse.

“I’m fine Bish, I’m not even that drunk.” That’s a lie, both of you know it’s not true. But you’re still hesitant to get on a bike with Bishop, it feels like a betrayal to your own Harley. Nevertheless, he manages to pull you all the way to his truck, and - oh. You’re not going on his bike?

As if reading your mind, Bishop quickly adds, “I’ve had a few beers myself, taking the truck is safer.” And that seems to be the end of that conversation.

The alcohol flowing through your system manages to dull your anger enough to not fight back when Bishop helps you into the passenger seat and buckles you in. You want to argue that you’re not a baby, that you can take care of yourself thank you very much, but the several (four, maybe?) beers and the two shots you’d had tonight were hitting you in full force.

Once the door is closed, you turn in your seat to press your forehead to the glass and pull your legs up to your chest. You’re usually a happy type of drunk, but with the yelling and the heartache, all you want to do right now is sleep. And you must have done just that, because the next thing you know Bishop is maneuvering you out of the car to cradle you in his arms.

“Lemme down… I can.. walk.” You murmur, but you’re quickly slipping back into slumber as Bishop chuckles. The last thing you remember, Bishop is laying you down - on your bed? Couch? You can’t tell, but you don’t care right now.

“Goodnight, querida.”

And then, everything goes black.

_____________

Sunlight streams in through the open curtains, a warm glow fills the room. A groan, loud and hearty, echoes throughout the otherwise silent bedroom. Your head lifts from the pillow before quickly shoving itself under said pillow. The light is too bright, the birds chirping are too loud, and you want to throw up. This feeling is actually what gets you up from the bed, stumbling your way to the bathroom just in time to empty your stomach into the toilet. Your head pounds with every wretch and cough you emit, only after two minutes does the vomiting end. Eyes closed and mouth parted, you flush the toilet and brace yourself so you can stand on wobbly legs.

The cool water splashing against your face actually helps, the cold waking your mind and body by a fraction. Your gaze drifts from the sink to the mirror, causing you to visibly cringe at the state you’re in. Your hair is relatively kempt, but the bags under your eyes and the flushness of your skin would let anyone know that you’re not doing too great today. A ding from your phone sounds loud throughout the room, and the pounding of your head starts to increase again.

The cabinet to your left holds your medicines, so you shuffle through different cold meds and pain pills until you land on the tylenol. It’s all a blur, shoving two tylenol in your mouth, gulping it down with tap water, and then stumbling back to bed intending to sleep the day away. But another ding from your phone sounds again, and you finally find the strength to look at it.

Several texts from Ez and Coco flood your screen, but one text is from Bishop, and your heart starts to drop into your stomach. Images from last night flood your mind as you remember the argument, the breakup, and then Bishop driving you home since you were way too drunk to drive. You dread what you’re about to read and pray that you hadn’t said anything embarrassing to the man. So, summoning up the courage, you open your phone.

From: Bishop

Good morning, I hope your hangover is treating you well. I know you hate other people riding your bike, so I’ll have it towed to your place later. Let me know when you wake up so I know you’re okay.

To: Bishop

Hey, I’m okay. My head feels like it’s going to explode and I might throw up again, so I’m having a good time. Thanks for doing this, and for last night. I’m sorry if I said or did anything embarrassing.

You throw your phone on the pillow next to your head and sigh, and within minutes you’re back in the clutches of a restless slumber.

_____________

Four weeks pass by and you’ve managed to not go back to the clubhouse. Sure, you’ve hung out with Coco and Gilly and Ez a few times, you’ve even met with Bishop at a diner to catch up, but never at the clubhouse. Mainly, it’s because you know it’s Angel’s territory, his home away from home, and you don’t want to show up and ruin that for him after breaking up so soon (It’s also partially due to not wanting to see a new woman hang off of Angel’s arm if he’s already moved on).

You’ve managed to stay away from the clubhouse for four weeks, up until today. Clouds covered the sun, providing much needed shade and therefore letting the temperature drop by a few degrees. Today was a perfect day for riding around the streets of Santo Padre, up until it wasn’t.

You’re at a red light when it happens, a car racing down the road at a definitely illegal speed swerves as the driver tries to turn left. Luckily, there was only one other car on the road, the opposite side you were on, so they didn’t get hurt, but you did.

The car manages to swerve in such a way that the rear of the car smashes into your bike, sending you flying backwards and your bike skidding to the right. Due to the force of which you’re knocked back by, you land on your side, your shoulder taking most of the impact. It might be the adrenaline, but you don’t register the pain, nor do you register the blood all across your arm from where you’d skidded across the pavement.

In a haze, you hear sirens sound in the distance, people come to your aid in flocks, several bystanders are helping you to stand while other bystanders block the car that hit you from speeding away. It’s all a blur, everything moves too fast yet too slow at the same time. But soon enough the paramedics are escorting you to the back of an ambulance and police officers are surrounding the car.

Over the next five or so minutes, you’re asked a series of questions regarding your injuries and medical history, but one question stumps you.

Is there anyone you want to notify?

Is there? Your family lives hours away, you and Angel are no longer together, and you’re pretty sure most of the club is working at the scrapyard. Still, you know you won’t be able to get back home once they transport you to the hospital, so you decide to call the one person that you know could help you right now.

Bishop.

_____________

Within the next hour, you’re sitting on a hospital bed with your arm bandaged and in a sling. You’re doing alright for being hit by a car, most of that has to do with the helmet you were wearing. Minor scrapes and bruises litter your body, a nasty cut across your cheek had to be stitched up, but you’ve had worse.

Heavy footsteps make their way down the hall, a gruff voice asking (demanding) to be led to your room, and then suddenly the door is swung open to reveal a very concerned Bishop. His breathing is labored, chest rising and falling rapidly as he takes in your condition.

After determining that you’re not in serious peril, Bishop takes a few quick steps so he can stand in front of you. His eye twitches and his fist clenches, the scowl on his face let’s you know that he might actually kill the man that put you here.

Reaching your good hand out to him, you lay your hand on his bicep and squeeze softly. A soft smile forms on your face as you shake your head. “I’m okay, Bish. A little banged up, but nothing too bad.”

Bishop huffs, shakes his own head, and takes your hand off of his arm so he can hold it in his own. “No. It ain’t okay, you’re hurt.”

And something in the way he speaks makes your heart stutter ever so slightly, your face grows warm. But, you don’t want to dwell on that, you’re more concerned with calming Bishop down than you are with analyzing why now, of all times, you’re becoming nervous around your friend.

“I’m okay, Obispo. Yes, I’m injured, but that doesn’t mean that I'm incapacitated.” Your voice comes out harsher than you intended. However at this point, you’re tired of people (men, mainly) treating you like some porcelain doll that must be protected at all times. “I’m a big girl, okay. I can handle myself, you know.”

At this, Bishop sighs and drops your hand, but not before giving it a soft squeeze. “I know you are, that doesn’t mean I like seeing people I care about getting hurt.” His voice is also gruff, but you know it’s because he truly cares.

As you’re contemplating on whether or not to argue further with Bishop, a knock at your room’s door stops you both, you both turning your heads to look at the doctor making his way towards you with a clipboard and papers.

“We’ve prescribed you some pain medications and a steroid to help with the swelling in your shoulder. Now all you have to do is sign these documents and we can release you.”

The doctor is short and to the point, clearly tired from what must be a long and stressful shift at the ER, so you take the clipboard and (as best as you can) balance the clipboard on your knees so you can sign what needs to be signed. At one point Bishop tries to take the clipboard to help steady it, but you throw him a glare that makes him back off.

It takes a bit, but you’re soon discharged and walking (limping, more like it) out of the hospital and to Bishop’s awaiting truck.

“I had Chucky tow your bike to the shop. I’ll take a look at it tomorrow and see if we can save her.” Bishop talks with authority, like what he says is final, and that’s what really irks you.

“You didn’t need to do that, I could have had it brought to my house so I can fix my bike.” Frustration is flowing through your veins. You loathe asking others for help, so this otherwise small act of kindness feels too much for you.

That comment makes Bishop stop walking and turn around so he can face you. “Querida, I know how much you hate others touching your bike. Under any other circumstance I wouldn’t have taken it to the shop, but I cannot trust you to not hurt yourself further by working on this bike.” Bishop sighs heavily and stares into your eyes with determination. “Now get in the truck so I can take you home.”

Okay that is what really pisses you off, logically, deep down you know that he’s only doing this because he cares about you, he would never want to see you hurt. But the insinuation that you’d put yourself in any more jeopardy by overextending yourself (no matter how true it is) irritates you.

“I’m an adult, Bishop. I don’t need your charity,” Your voice raises, and Bishop looks around for any bystanders that might be listening in.

When he’s determined that no one else is within earshot of you both, he takes ahold of your good arm. “Please, we can talk about this tomorrow, I’ll even pick you up and take you to the scrapyard tomorrow so we can both look at it.” Now, his tone may ooze confidence and finality but you can tell he’s getting desperate, almost pleading for you to just get in the truck.

One very long minute passes before your eyes are rolling and you’re moving past Bishop to grab onto the truck’s door handle. You can see him shake his head, hear the sigh that leaves his lips, and while you’re frustrated with him (immensely so), you’re partially frustrated with yourself. Receiving kindness has always been hard for you, therefore you’re prone to lashing out at those who are kind to you. And you hate it, you hate feeling like you’re pushing people away, but you don’t know any other way to live.

Maybe it’s your lingering anger, maybe it’s the pain medicine kicking in, but you don’t speak the rest of the way to your house. At one point, Bishop looks over at you and tries making small talk, but he’s quickly shut down by your non responsiveness. It’s a tense silence you two sit through, you are too upset to speak and Bishop is too tired to argue anymore.

When you do finally get to your house, you’re the first person out of the truck, limping up your porch steps so you can unlock your door. It takes a few minutes, but soon the front door is unlocked and your bag is tossed onto the floor. As you turn to shut your door, you see Bishop leaning against his truck, clearly exasperated.

Again, the beating of your heart increases and, again, you push that feeling down. Deciding that you’ve been enough of a pain in the ass tonight, you lift your good arm and wave at Bishop. A small smile makes its way onto your face, hopefully softening the blow of yelling at him earlier.

This must have calmed Bishop, because he too smiles and waves before getting back in his truck. And as you’re watching him pull out of your driveway, you can’t help but be a tad bit happy you get to see him tomorrow.

_____________

“The motor is-“

“The motor is fine!”

“It’s not supposed to-“

“I know how my bike works, alright!”

Whoever thought letting Angel tell you what was wrong with your bike deserves a kick in the head. Each time Angel opens his mouth, you’re shutting him down, not letting him get a word in. It’s tough, because as much as you don’t hate Angel, you do hate other people telling you how to fix your bike without letting you look for yourself.

“Just listen-“

“Cut that shit out!” A loud, booming voice echoes in your direction. Turning, you see Bishop making his way over to you and Angel, his eyes locked on Angel’s the whole way.

Angel’s mouth opens again, ready to stand his ground, but Bishop’s eyebrow raises and he clears his throat and that shuts Angel up. He backs down, grumbling about how you’re too difficult and frustrating to work with.

A large, calloused hand lands on your bicep and squeezes softly, effectively moving your focus from yelling at Angel. Warm eyes meet yours as you shift your head, there’s something unreadable about the look in Bishop’s eyes. It’s something you’ve seen a million times, but you’re just now noticing how soft it is. How his eyes shine just a little brighter. It’s… strange, and his stoic face doesn’t help things either, making it hard to decipher the situation.

These warm eyes, the same eyes that you’ve looked into hundreds of times, send a chill down your spine. It makes you feel guilty, immensely so, because Bishop is your friend. Your friend who helped you through the last few months of your relationship with Angel. Your friend who gave you advice and company when things were tense in your relationship. Your friend whose eyes are, very suddenly, pulling you in deep.

“C’mon querida, let’s look for ourselves.”

This snaps you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping up to meet his. A little lost in your head, you nod slowly and turn abruptly, making your way into the garage to, hopefully, leave those confusing thoughts behind.

_____________

Sweat runs down your neck, sunglasses shield your eyes from the sun hanging high in the sky. It must be 100 degrees at least, and yet your tank top and shorts still heat your skin further. The only reprieve you get from the heat is when you occasionally tread inside for water, however your AC doesn’t seem to be wanting to work today either. A fan in your garage is on high speed, circulating as much cool air as possible, it’s still not very effective.

Not only are you frustrated with the heat, you’re growing more and more frustrated with not being able to do basic things without help. So, being you, you don’t ask for help, you work around getting the things you need. You’re able to move your arm more, at-home physical therapy has been working wonders, but you’re still not able to do what you want to do, what you need to do. Which happens to be fixing your bike.

There’s not much time during the week to work on it, which is why Bishop has come to your house for the past three Sundays to help with it. Which is to say, you help him. With your arm still bandaged up you’re unable to maneuver to the exact position working on your bike requires you to be in. But, speaking of the devil, when you exit the house with yet more bottles of water, you’re granted the sight of Bishop in his white tank-top and jeans, squatting down and staring intensely at the loosely hanging chains on the broken bike.

Suddenly, like you’ve been hit by a bullet, you’re hit with a variety of emotions. Some of them you cannot name, some of them you can. The one emotion that sticks out from all of them is… infatuation? That can’t be right, you think. You’re just friends, plus, you broke up with Angel only six weeks ago, stop it.

None of these thoughts help, though. Standing in a trance-like state, each hand gripping a bottle, your breathing picks up. Why are you feeling these things now? What changed? Could it have been that he was there for you when virtually no one else was? Maybe it’s the way he makes you feel safe, like no one could hurt you. Maybe it’s because you know he wants to keep you safe, yet he chooses to let you do your thing, content in the knowledge that you’d let him know if anything happened. This realization, the fact that you’ve never had that kind of understanding with any previous relationship, almost knocks you off balance.

Six weeks, you have to remind yourself. You’ve been single for six weeks, don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s not until Bishop stands to full height do you realize that you’ve been staring at him for god-knows how long. The corner of his mouth quirks up, like he knows what you’re thinking. And instead of dwelling on how refreshing that feels to have someone understand you like Bishop has been able to for the entirety of your seven year friendship, you pick your head up and smile back at him.

“I hope you’re not breaking her anymore than she already is,” You joke, a slight waver in your voice. Rough, scorching hot cement pushes you to walk forward into the shaded garage, right next to Bishop.

“Yeah, y’know, I’ve decided to leave her like that. I’m sure she’s ready to go,” Bishop’s smile widens, humor flushing out any weird tension that hung in the air only moments ago. The hand not holding the water rests on your lower back, pushing you forward.

“Well I’ll leave you up to taking the first test run, then,” You joke back, both of you staring at each other for a moment before cracking, laughter echoing through the small garage. The hand on your back stays in place, and you find yourself being pulled further into Bishop’s side. The laughter subsides, a comfortable silence falling over the two of you.

“But seriously,” You sigh, preparing yourself for the worst outcome possible. “How is she?”

Sensing your unease, Bishop grabs one of the bottles of water from your hands. “She’ll be fine,” He assures you, taking a brief moment to swallow down some much needed water. “I’ll get her working in no time.”

A quick kick to the shin makes him clear his throat and backtrack on that last comment. “We’ll get her working in no time.”

“Good, now hand me a wrench so I can put the chains where they’re actually supposed to go.” The hand you’ve outstretched towards Bishop gets smacked away, with a quick reprimand.

“How about you hand me a wrench and I’ll let you delegate on where things go.”

Seemingly okay with this compromise, you nod. Sticking your tongue out and pulling a face while you search for said wrench.

_____________

Two grueling Sundays later, and Bishop and you have finally fully repaired your bike. It was a long process, having to order parts and break apart the whole motorcycle to put said parts into place took way longer than you’d have liked.

However, many frustrating arguments and a few mistakes later, your girl is as good as new. And luckily, you had your cast taken off last week, so you were actually of physical use today. It felt good, being able to move around and stretch fully without hindrance.

The best part about that experience was getting closer to Bishop. Getting to know random new facts about him, getting to see which of your jokes and stories get the most laughs out of him, getting to see a new side of him.

From an outside perspective, you’d think he had no problem sharing these things about himself, opening up so easily. From an inside perspective, from yours, you know he’d never be so open and jovial with just anyone. The fact that Bishop, your closest friend, deemed you worthy of seeing the real him has your heart soaring. The dad-like jokes actually help too.

One particular joke from Bishop has your eyes clenching shut, your head tilting back, and your hand shooting out to hang onto his forearm while you laugh, boisterous and loud. A snort, arguably an unattractive snort, comes out next, and you rush to cover your mouth. A large, warm hand comes to your wrist not long after, pulling it down so you’re not hidden away.

Your eyes flutter open, looking right to see Bishop, staring back at you with such intensity that it catches you off guard. How his eyes flicker down to your lips for one very long moment before returning to your own eyes. It makes you gulp, butterflies filling your stomach and your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

This feeling intensifies as Bishop’s hand removes itself from your wrist to slowly encompass your cheek. Skin flushing, mouth dry, you peer down to his lips. Within seconds they start moving as he starts speaking.

“I don’t know when, or how. It was sudden. I woke up one day knowing that I wanted you, I needed you. You were with Angel at the time, so I’d never said anything. But… I can’t help but notice the way you look at me. You didn’t even look at Angel like that.”

A short pause, an intake of breath before speaking again.

“I’d like to think you feel this too.”

Time seems to move in slow motion. Two months ago you broke up with a man you cared for. Now you’re sitting in your garage with a man who cares for you. All of the indecipherable looks from him now added up, he likes you.

“I do.” You say, voice no louder than a whisper. “I feel it.” The hand cupping your cheek slides to the back of your neck, resting comfortably.

Silence fills the room, neither of you speaking for fear of ruining the moment. Until finally, Bishop’s hand squeezes your neck softly to guide you further towards him. For a long moment you stay with your lips centimeters away, eyes fluttering shut as you take a breath in.

“Obispo-“ You’re cut off abruptly by lips pressing into yours. You’re torn between being surprised and being correct in your assumptions about the way Bishop kisses. He kisses like he loves: passionate, gentle, soft.

Lips slide over each other, tongues poking out to tease the other while the hand on your neck squeezes harder. At this, a soft moan escapes your lips, allowing Bishop to slide his tongue into your mouth and explore this new territory.

A hand snakes its way up Bishop’s arm, squeezes his bicep, then cups his cheek. With tilted heads and entangled bodies, this moment is one you’ll never forget. You’d do anything to stay like this forever, but, as if by chance, a phone rings, the two of you breaking away to look at who the hell is calling.

It ends up being Taza, wondering where in the hell Bishop is when he was supposed to be at Hank’s over an hour ago. An apologetic smile forms on Bishop’s face as he nods, telling Taza he’ll be there soon. Turning to you, ready to apologize, he’s stopped by your lips covering his.

A soft, chaste kiss followed by, “It’s okay, go.”

Bishop leaves then, leaving behind a woman smiling so bright with a heart full of love.

_____________

A late Friday night, another clubhouse party in full swing. Bishop is leaning against a pool table casually watching Angel get his ass beat by Letti at a different table. It’s fun, everyone having fun while drinks flow freely. Until suddenly, Angel is grumbling, eyes trained on the front doors to see you.

The confidence you ooze, the power you hold, it’s evident to everyone in the room that you are not to be messed with. Angel clearly doesn’t get that message as he stomps in your direction. He gets no more than ten feet from you when he opens his mouth to start yelling.

No words come out though, he’s stopped by you brushing past him into Bishop’s arms. You don’t care to get into an argument tonight, despite being known for not backing down from a fight. All you care about tonight is spending time with your friends, and with Bishop.

Despite your relationship being undefined, you’re still clearly infatuated with each other, taking your time and going with the flow. You’ve managed to wrap your arms around Bishop’s waist as Angel appears in front of you both, confused as ever.

“When the hell did this happen?” It’s phrased as a question, but you can hear the hurt he’s buried deep. And while it does pain you to hurt Angel, you’re not going to let him ruin your night.

“It’s new, actually. Somewhere along the line we realized we were good for each other. Actually good for each other.”

Huffing, Angel crosses his arms over his chest and stands taller. Despite staring deep into your eyes, his next sentence isn't directed at you. “Good luck with your new girl, then. Hope you can handle her.” He’s about to turn and leave when Bishop finally speaks up.

“I know how to handle women like her, a lot better than you do.”

You can see the anger in Angel’s eyes, the gears turning in his head as he contemplates arguing with Bishop. Aggravated, Angel turns and walks towards a group of ladies entertaining themselves with other mayan men.

This calms your heart down, your anger subsides, replaced by fondness as you look up at Bishop.

“He called me ‘your girl’,” you say, smiling wide.

“And?” The questioning look on Bishop’s face causes you to giggle, as he clearly doesn’t register what you’re hinting at.

“You didn’t say that I’m not,” Your arms tighten around his waist, face inching closer to his.

A smile forms on Bishop’s face as well, chuckling softly to himself. “That’s ‘cause you are my girl. You alright with that?”

Holding your head high, one hand snakes from Bishop’s back over and up to smooth over his stomach. Letting your hand wander further upwards, you lean in close to his face so you can whisper in his ear

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

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