#Also me: i love it with all my heart fuck you

[magnificent-buckless-butt]

Wait. Seriously, hold on. This post is hunting me right now because I think I can finally put my fingers on why USA Christianity is weirding me out since the beginning.

As an European, it baffles me how much of the population identify as Christians while acting and saying things like they've never read the Bible in the first place. Except they did, in some extant, because they're the one that quote it so often (we don't do that here, we might refer to a specific part but don't really quote the Bible?). So why, why do they act as if they never read love your neighbor, give the other cheek, Father forgive them etc.?

Because they want to be warriors actually. They want a wrathful God. And there is God's anger in the Bible, there is the wrath of God that must appealed and you must always feel guilty and ask for forgiveness*. But comes Jesus and what he says is basically 'no more'. No more wrath, no more anger, no more warriors. But humans love raging war.

And we fucking did throughout the whole history of Christians actually. You start by saying you're a warrior of Christ, that your virtue is your sword, your faith is your shield and so one. It's nice: you're being a good believer AND you get to have this badass, very virilis imagery of the warrior. But! If you're lucky enough, you'll even have a real war against some "pagans" (really, you don't have to worry about the specifics) and then! Ouh boy, you get to be a real warrior. Everything is perfect.

Which brings us to: why are these people not changing faith/God? Pick another, more angry God/deity or simply go with a "personal faith away from human's restricting religion". Answer: because it's so fucking hard. I'm studying theology so hard and sometimes it happens that I find Catholicism restricting, too verbose or too specific. Except I can't just ditch "my" religion. (To be fair, I also really don't want to because I decided to fight from the heart of the Church but that's another subject. Oh, and notice how I used fight --even I can't refrain from the manly warrior)

Okay, so what do we do? Well I say, we piss them off. And we do so by celebrating the fucking amazingness that is God made human just to fucking die. Jesus never won by any human standards. He was the ultimate loser. And ain't that absolutely beautiful? And humbling? How can you hate the Mexican who takes your job if God tell you to wash his feet as if you're below him? How can you decide who deserves right if you God tell you that you should strip yourself for a random stranger? I say we fight back by being unapologetically happy that God died for us. Not guilty. Happy. It's so, so beautiful that They love us so much and only want us to replicate a fraction of Their love to everyone we encounter. That we have to make ourselves a bit uncomfortable so a stranger can be a whole lot comfortable. That we have to renounce privileges and luxury so all human beings can have the exact same things and opportunities. That it is shameful to try to be better than anyone else. That it is shameful to try to be successful on our own because we're supposed to uplift everyone else before ourselves. That it is shameful not to be empathetic, vulnerable, open about our weaknesses etc.

So anyway, thanks OP because now I'm even more filled with spite that will fuels my love so I can spite their hatred.

*okay side note since you're still here: this is why in the first centuries, there was a heretic branch of Christianity very adamant on separating the Old testament God to the new gospel God.

[birchtreecat]

fuck it. moot and moot in law sleeepover bring your infodump topic, how you will infodump (yapping, presentations, red string on a cork board, etc) and stuff you bring to get cozy!!! if you don’t wanna infodump that’s okay!!!! come hang out!!!

I’m bringing my Nintendo switch so I can show off my pokemon because they’re the bestest babies ever and I love them i love all of them!!! will also be bringing chamomile tea and my piles of plushies as they always make me happy (*´ω｀*)

feel free to tag mutuals!! even if they’re not moots with me!!

@hy4c1nthh @queenoforeos @vee1021 @ki-2-your-heart @carro179 @piecrust-87 @leatheslay + anyone who wants in :3

[mameillieureennemie]

Hey i think it would be cool if you do another jinx x femreader ishas sister and something about isha walking in on a cute moment and getting grossed out maybe some angst😌 maybe some smut 😙😙 if u do that

hey love! sorry this took so long, but i hope you enjoy and thank you for the request :)

jinx x f!isha's sister!reader

there're hardly any moments you two can get alone. with the whole of piltover after you and the whole of zaun championing your girlfriend, it's been a very rough couple of weeks.

most of your time is spent hiding out, and during that time, you're entertaining isha as much as you can. whether that be through beetle brawling, drawing, or re-dying her hair so it doesn't lose its blue. it's anything you can do to keep her happy, to keep her away from the impending war that brews on outside.

but then a moment comes along where isha disappears. which isn't entirely odd because she's been known to vanish from time to time. you've grown used to it, after years of observing her movements, and calm jinx down when her look for isha grows a bit frantic.

"she's fine," you assure jinx, rubbing at her shoulder. "i wouldn't be this calm if i knew she wouldn't be."

"yeah, but," jinx says, running a shaky hand through her hair. "it's getting dangerous out there, and isha isn't us. she's young; she's practically a baby, and people are sick fucks with deranged brains and—"

you instantly draw jinx into your arms, tugging at her until her face is in the crook of your neck. you rub soothing circles against her back, softly cooing until jinx's muttering falls silent. then her arms are curling around your waist, holding you close, as if she's scared you'll disappear too.

"i know it's hard," you say gently. "to trust that things are okay. that the people you love are okay. but you can trust me and trust that i know what i'm talking about." you lean back so you can hold jinx's face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs over the angle of her cheekbones. "so trust me on this, okay? isha's fine, and she knows what to do if she runs into any trouble."

jinx seems unconvinced, but she slowly relaxes as she nuzzles into your touch. with a heavy sigh, she closes her eyes and says, "i've...never had to worry like this before. usually, it was others worrying about me. because i was the jinx, y'know? so it's odd...feeling this way."

you hum in response, still tracing patterns into her cheeks. "feeling what way?" you ask, a little curious and jinx opens her eyes with a shrug.

"responsible?" she tries, before shaking her head. "i don't know, i just—the idea of anything happening to you or isha rips me up inside. like i'd permanently lose my mind, go absolutely fucking crazy if something bad happened to you guys."

you hum again, this time with a hint of a chuckle. but her words have your heart racing because that's exactly how you feel. it also means that what jinx is experiencing is probably similar to your experience.

that she—

"you love us," you whisper, barely loud enough for jinx to hear. but she hears it, loud and clear, as she stares at you with eyes that momentarily look powder blue.

"i...do," she whispers, just as loud, and it's enough to push you. enough to have you pull her in so you can press a sweet kiss against her lips. a kiss she reciprocates eagerly, her arms still tight around your waist, placing you in a trap you hope to never escape.

just as she licks into your mouth with a soft moan, there's a noise that startles you both. you pull apart quickly, looking around and sighing when you see that it's isha.

whose nose is scrunched up in disgust, eyes clenched shut.

you can't help but laugh loudly as jinx snorts, refusing to let you go.

"some nerve you got," jinx scolds playfully. "you couldn't have come back in like twenty minutes?"

you shove jinx, just as playful, and say, "isha, you can open your eyes."

but isha shakes her head, intent of keeping her eyes safe.

but she's smiling now, and that's all that matters.

[bunny-jpeg]

the customer is always right

simon 'ghost' riley

tags: smut/pwp, plug!reader, biker!simon, rough sex, semi-public sex, rough wall sex, mean!simon, mentions & use of recreational drugs, dub-con (!!!), breeding kink, dark themes

a/n: wow that was something!

simon knew when the trust his gut. it was what kept him alive for so long. good things didn't come to those who tried to over-think things and just like emotion take over. problem was, sometimes the gut wasn't right and simon may go a little overboard.

moments like that were also what had kept him alive for this long. but maybe he was overacting when he got in your face, little plastic baggie in his hand (damn thing had hearts printed on it for christ sake). he may have been a touch too mean.

"ya fuckin' bitch." he snapped, "tryin' to over-charge me. is that what they teach ya nowadays?"

"what the fuck are you talking about?" you snapped back, "you asked and you received. all of them are there. the weed, the xanax, it's all there." you pointed to the baggie, "and if you don't like it then take a hike." and turned away, but you didn't get far before simon grabbed you by the shoulder and hit you up against the wall.

"nah, nah. not very good customer service are ya. jeez, i remember i at least had the decency to please and thank you when i sold." he towered over you, much stronger than you could ever. your forehead hit against the brick wall and you felt tears in your eyes.

"simon... c'mon." you said, "i'm not fucking around here." and yelped when you felt his hands go up your skirt. his large, rough hand grasped your ass and gave it a firm squeeze.

"c'mon, what? that you're a cheat and a liar. thinkin' that you can pout that fat bottom lip and no one would be counting what you shaved off? i hope you know there are worse men out there than me. fuck with them and you'll be found in pieces." he pressed into you, his hard on in his jeans rubbed against you behind.

"please, simon." you said.

"shh, shh. i'm tryin' to right a wrong here. the customer is always right, right? ya only give the best to those who are payin' and since you tried to scam me out. only fair that i get a little return on what i paid for. and if it isn't drugs, well, i'll have to find somethin' else." he pulled your panties down and kept you against the wall by the back of your neck.

he got his cock out of his jeans and rubbed his cock up against your ass. he exhaled deeply, "love the smell of good pussy before i light up for the evenin'." he chuckled, "ah, that's is. mmm, should be selling this. but, actually, maybe i should keep it to myself. yeah?"

you didn't know what yo say. you had to keep quiet. you were currently in the alleyway between the biker bar that simon owned and a convenience store that got a fair bit of foot traffic.

"yeah, keep ya on my arm at the bar. better yet, get ya off this dealer shit and back into the kitchen. measure flour and sugar rather than weed and cocaine." he groaned as he kept his cock throb as he held it against you behind. slow up and down movements against you. he still kept you pinned.

"simon."

"ah, ya want it, doll." he chuckled, "ya want me. i can smell it on ya." he sniffed for dramatic effect as he rubbed up against you further, "mmm. ya like that." his voice was dangerous as he sank into your cunt.

easy fit, maybe a little bruising. but, simon would kiss it all better with the tip of his cock. maybe rub some of his cum against the bruises for good measure. you moaned against the wall and your short nails dragged across the brick wall.

he moved against you quickly. his pace was bruising and it made you pant heavily against the wall. he slapped your ass and then struck his fingers in your mouth when he felt you got too loud.

"keep ya home, keep ya with the brats. better than this. i can handle it all, you just stay home." he moved against you, "mama don't gotta think, she just gotta handle the home, right?" he felt your cunt squeeze around his cock and he chuckled to himself as he moved against you faster.

you moaned around his fingers and he only pushed into you further. you choked out a noise as he held you jaw, still keeping you quiet. his cock hit against all the right spots and it made you have spots in your vision. the feeling was so strong that it made you unable to fully process what was going on. how it felt to be fucked this way, with a man so much larger and so much more terrifying.

"that's it. won't sell ya for a quick buck. only i'll keep this greedy pussy filled right?" his pace continued and you were on another planet. rationality died in your head and replaced with the wet feeling between your legs.

being manhandled like this, subjected to his brutal paces. there was little affection, but simon would make it up to you. it's not going to all take in one night. he'd need to work his achy cock into you a few more times. he felt the heat in his body as he fucked you.

you moaned around his fingers and let him use you as he pleased. your legs were shaky but he kept you upright. you moaned around his digits.

"that's it beautiful. wow, this is the customer service i like to see." he purred into your ear as he continued to rut against you. he knew you weren't paying attention to a damn thing he was saying. but, still you felt good. nice cunt for him to fuck.

"simon." you tried to say around his fingers. but he kept fucking you like a man on a mission. your eyes rolled back when you felt the climax hit you like a train. your cunt clamped down on his cock and you finished around him.

you slumped further against the grimy brick wall and you cursed when he took his fingers out of your mouth. he slapped your ass and looked out of the alley as he fucked you with a heavier pace. his hips slammed against your ass.

"fuck, baby. look at ya." he groaned as his pace kept up. he moved against you, fucked you up against he wall like he owned you. he kept his pace steady as he felt the climax in his gut. he kept fucking you eagerly and felt the throb in his core.

a few more heavy thrusts and he shoved he took his cock out to the tip, but still came inside of you. like spurts of cum hit against the deepest parts of you. he gripped your ass and said, "did ya a favour and pulled you a little. still got my boys in ya though." his accent heavy due to the lust, "keep 'em safe will ya."

you were barely focused on the roughness of the brick under your cheek.

he pulled out and got his sticky cock into his jeans. he zipped them up and you nervously got your panties back over your ass. globs on his cum stained the front of your panties.

you were on shaky legs as he took you by the arm. you looked up at him and felt meek. you felt conflicted, your core still shivering. your bottom lip wobbled as he rubbed your eyes.

"ah, i'm here, doll." he said softly, "why don't we get in your car and remeasure everythin'. seems like baby girl doesn't know how to do her measurments." he patted your behind and gave a smile under his mask.

you had no words, you just got fucked in an alley way and your mind was still a tangled knot of yarn. you leaned on him further for support.

"don't worry, i'm here now. and we'll get them just right." he yanked you a little harder then you hopes as he said, "no time to waste beautiful. you better not have messed up too many of the measurements, or else we'll have to right those wrongs all over again. because why, doll?"

you whimpered, "the customer's always right?"

"yes he is."

[drewswife]

cuteness aggression with Rafe

warnings: fluff with suggestive

summary: y/n is too in love with her bf getting cuteness aggression while he's doing work at his office

My heart fluttered as I watched Rafe through the office window. His blue eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were narrowed in concentration as he navigated a particularly tricky spreadsheet. He sighed frustrated, his brow furrowed.

I giggled, the sound muffled by my hand. Oh, how I loved this man. His intense focus, the way his jaw clenched when he was determined, the way his whole body seemed to radiate an almost tangible energy… it was all utterly captivating.

But it was his vulnerability that truly set my heart aflutter. The way his shoulders slumped when he couldn’t solve a problem, the way he bit his lip when he was deep in thought, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he finally cracked a smile… it was all too much for me.

I wanted to reach through the glass, ruffle his hair, and kiss those furrowed brows better. I wanted to whisper encouragement in his ear, to remind him that he was brilliant and capable. I wanted to tease him about his grumbling, to make him laugh until his eyes watered.

But I also wanted to… well, let’s just say that Rafe’s intense focus had a certain… effect on me. The way his chest muscles flexed under his shirt as he typed, the way his hands moved with a practiced grace… it was all incredibly distracting.

I bit my lip, trying to reign in my thoughts. I couldn’t just barge into his office and confess my… desires. Besides, he was working. I wouldn’t want to be interrupted either.

But the temptation was too strong. I took a deep breath, then tapped on the window. Rafe looked up, startled, then a slow smile spread across his face. He mouthed the words, “Five minutes,” and gestured towards his watch.

I grinned back, already anticipating the next five minutes. I knew I was in for a world of trouble, but oh, what a delicious kind of trouble it would be.

With a mischievous glint in my eye, I slipped into Rafe's office. He looked up from his computer, a surprised expression on his face. Before he could say anything, I was on him, showering him with kisses. I peppered his face, his neck, even his ears with playful bites, eliciting chuckles from him.

"You know," Rafe said, his voice husky, "I was having a perfectly productive afternoon until you decided to interrupt angel” Rafe said with playfulness

"Oh, I know," I purred, trailing kisses down his chest. "But I couldn't resist. You were just too cute."

Rafe groaned playfully, "You're going to get me in trouble."

"Worth it," I whispered, my lips brushing against his.

“You trying to distract me baby” rafe said with a small smirk

I ignored him bitting his shoulder “OW wtf y/n” rafe said with wide eyes

I gave him a wide smile as i said “what?” I said with a not so innocent smile

“The fuck u tryna bite me for kid” rafe said while running his hand on your waist to your hips

I shrugged “You looked bite able”

[lheesluv]

I Want You (l.hs)

Soft kisses turned into deep kisses. If Heeseung thought you were horny, he was even hornier.

PAIRINGS - soft dom!heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE - smut

WARNINGS - smut (mdni), p in v, pwop, protected raw sex, breeding kink, creampie, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), horny ass mfs, pet names, Imk if i missed anything!

WC - 2k

A/N — yall know what it is… another scene from my wattpad series "My Secret Lover.” also… happy 200 followers, yay!!! lowkey poured 3/4 of my heart into this so…

© All rights reserved Iheesluv do not copy, repost, or translate.

"Heeseung," you muttered. "Hm?" He hums, still pressing light butterfly kisses on your neck. You let out a small whine, tugging on the back of his hair gently. "What is it that you want, love? Hm?" He's clearly teasing you, forcing you to tell him with words.

"Want you," you admit, barely a whisper but loud enough for him to hear. "Do you now?" you nodded, pleading. "Yes, please."

You watched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head in awe, admiring his upper body.

He raises his eyebrow, looking down at you. "Are you going to watch me or get undressed too?" You nodded shyly and started to undress yourself as he undressed his lower half.

You watched him with hooded eyes as he jerked his length against your bareness. He was doing this as if he was teasing you.

"Seung-ah," you called his name out in a whine. "Yes, love?" He answers you with a sly smile. He knew what he was doing. He knew it made you lose my patience.

He held his length against your core and slowly grinded the tip of his dick up and down your wet slit. Your eyes closed tight, squirming under him. "P-Please," you begged for more.

"Hm," He hums softly, still slowly grinding against you, spreading more slick. The head of his cock occasionally bumps your clit with every drag. "I think you need some prepping first, don't you think, darling?" He says, retracting from you.

You whine at the sudden loss of friction. "Shh, shh. I got you, baby. You'll get me soon," he says, spreading your thighs apart with the palm of his hand.

Slowly, he collects your wetness with his middle finger up and down before slipping the finger inside. The sudden intrusion made you gasp. Your hands immediately gripped his sheets under you.

He moved his finger in and out a few times before slipping a second finger in. You let out a shaky breath, followed by a soft moan as you felt the pad of his fingers massaging the inside of your walls.

The sopping wet sound echoed in the four-walled room as his fingers thrust in and out of your pussy every time. Your cheeks flushed pink feeling embarrassed, but it was slowly forgotten when the pleasure took over.

"You're so wet, baby. Who's all of this for? Hm?" He coos. "Y-You, for you," you gasped, arching your back at the feeling.

He pulled his fingers away and before you could complain, the warmness of his tongue came in contact with your pussy.

You gasped. Your hands that were once gripping the best sheets shot up to hold a grip on his hair. "F-Fuck, Heeseung." He hums against your core, flicking his tongue up and down your slit, lapping up your wetness.

You tightened your grip on his hair, causing him to groan against you. His arms were wrapped around your thighs, speeding up each lick. The sharp point of his nose continuously stimulated your clit. "T-Too much."

Heeseung pulls away with a string of salvia connected from your wetness to his lips. He used the back of his hand to wipe his lips before hovering over you again.

He leans in to kiss you again as his arms roam around your body. He pulls away briefly, still centimeters away from you. "Heeseung," you whisper. "Yes, darling?"

"I want you."

Heeseung looks at you with soft eyes before chuckling softly. His fingers tucked a few loose strands behind your ear. "You know I'm not doing this to get you back right? I genuinely want to be with you." You nodded, smiling softly at the boy.

"Only if you say yes, my love."

"Yes. Please, Heeseung."

He positioned himself in missionary position. He looked at you with worry. "Condom. Fuck, I left it in my car." "I'm on a pill today, it's okay," you assured him.

With no hesitation, he slowly pushed himself in. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the tip of his cock brush past your cervix. He groans once he's bottomed out completely.

"Fuck, so tight," he says with a shaky breath. You let out a mewl, feeling the veins of his cock with every drag. Your hands went to clutch his sheets, unable to take the pleasure.

He had wrapped his hands under your thighs, pulling you closer to his pelvis. Surely, marks will be left on your thighs, but that was the least of your worries right now.

His length got coated with your slick after every thrust. His pace gradually sped up, easily slipping in and out of you due to your wet arousal.

Your back arched at the immense feeling, your head throwing back into his pillow. "G-God, you're s-so good," you breathed out past your parted lips.

"Yeah? Does it feel good?"

"Yes, fuck yes it feels so good," you blabbered out, trying to surpass the moans that wanted to slip out.

His sweaty bangs covered his forehead, sweat threatening to drip. His eyebrows were furrowed as his parted lips let out stuttered moans.

Your own eyebrows furrowed not only at the pleasure but at how goddamn hot Heeseung looked right now.

"Fuckkk," you whined, trying to open your eyes again. You noticed how he would let out a small pant after his cock would slam into you.

"Shit, you're fucking dripping, darling," he chuckles softly, gently squeezing your thighs. "Rub yourself for me, baby."

You obeyed his order and slowly rubbed your clit. "Oh, f-fuck." Your eyes shot open, surprised at the new sensation. His cock head managed to hit your g-spot so well. You cried his name out in pleasure.

"You're not going to cum yet, are you, love? Hm?" he asks me, still lunging his cock in me. You quickly shook your head. "N-No."

"Good because I'm not done with you."

He releases his grip from your thighs and balances himself on your sides, chest to chest. Your arms moved to hold a grip on his back.

You felt his breath against the side of your neck with every thrust. The room was filled with your skin slapping and constant moans. You hated how quiet Heeseung kept himself.

"I wanna hear you too," you whispered in his ear. Heeseung let his bottom lip go from his bite and let out a sultry moan.

He then bent your right leg and pressed it up to your chest. His hips kept moving and never faltered. He would let out groans when he felt your nails digging into his back.

"My pretty perfect girl," Heeseung pants in the crook of your neck, snapping his hips against yours. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling him hit every right spot. "Fuck, H-Heeseung, please, please, please," you cried.

"Are you close, baby? Do you want to cum?" He asked, almost teasing you. You answered him, nodding your head repeatedly. His hips somehow moved faster, fucking you faster to your climax.

Your body felt weak. You just laid there, letting him use you as a fuck toy.

"C-Cumming, Fuck, I-I'm cumming! H-Heeseung!" You cried out. Your high-pitched moans filled the room as I hit your climax.

Heeseung left soft kisses on your face as you calmed down from your high. "You didn't get to finish yet," you said in a soft tone. Heeseung smiled and stroked your head. "Think you can take more of me?" He asks in a teasing tone.

You simply nodded. You purposely clenched your walls around his hard cock in you, forcing a groan out of him.

He pulled out of you, causing you to let out a small whine at the loss of friction.

"Turn around for me."

You turned your body around and stuck your ass up. He positions his cock at your hole and massages your ass.

"Push it back on me, baby," he ordered you softly. You use your knees to push yourself back on him. Pushing his dick in yourself felt different, but good.

You whined into his pillow, breathing heavily at the stretch. You lifted your head up and turned your neck back, waiting for your next order.

"Come on. Fuck yourself on me. Make me cum."

The insides of your stomach turned at his lewd words. You start using your knees, fucking yourself back on his dick. His hands that were on your ass guided you with each thrust.

"F-Fucking shit, you're so good, baby," Heeseung sighs. From how weak his voice sounded, you already knew how he looked. His eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed. His teeth biting down on his lip to hold back his moans, wanting to assert his dominance.

You whimpered back in response, feeling every inch of his length move in and out of you. Your legs started to feel weak. You turned your head back, admiring the state Heeseung was in.

"Please fuck me," you begged him. "Tired already?" You nodded, biting the bottom of your lip, feeling him thrust into you slowly.

You dropped your head down and buried your face in his pillow. My loud moans and cries were muffled, allowing you to hear his groans and moans better.

"God, you're so wet. All for me, baby?" he asked you, panting. You nodded your head. "Y-Yes. All for y-you, Hee." "Fuckkk," Heeseung moans, gripping your waist tighter, slamming his hips against your ass.

"Shit! Just like t-that, fuck!" You sobbed out in pleasure. "Just like that?" he asks you, hitting that spot repeatedly. "Fuck! Y-Yes, yes," you moaned, sloppily moving your hips back on him.

As you got near your second climax, your walls clenched around him more frequently. His balls slapped against your ass after every hard thrust.

"You like me deep inside you like this, don't you? God, you're so fucking p-perfect. You're all mine, f-fuck," Heeseung babbles out as he moves his hips at a fast pace. You lay there, only being able to let out moans.

The more he talked, the closer it brought you to your climax. You managed to turn your head back again, wanting to see him.

"I-I'm close, baby. J-Just a little more, please," he moans out with closed eyes and clenched jaw. "You're gonna let me cum in you, right? Won't you, my pretty princess?" His pace never slowed down as he rambled out dirty words.

You didn't have the energy to respond. You only clenched around his thick length and moaned. "You'd like that, won't you, baby?" His hips started to stutter as he got close to his release.

"F-Fuck, you would like that— me filling you with my cum," he answered for you. His words rather seemed to be guiding him closer to his climax.

"Please c-cum in me, H-Heeseung," you managed to speak past your stuttered moans. His hips moved faster and harder. The wet noise, moans, and slapping intensified.

"Oh god— fuck, Heeseung," you moan with a sigh, gripping the sheets tightly. His breath got shorter and shorter, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

"Turn around. I need to see your face when you cum for me."

You did as he said and he took no time to plunge himself back into you. "Fuck, your tight pussy is gonna make cum, baby," he moaned, throwing his head back as he thrusts into you.

"Please cum inside of me," you cried out, desperate for his cum. "Keep talking to me like t-that," Heeseung groans, his grip on your hips tightening.

"Want your cum so bad," you whimpered. You chewed on my bottom lip, holding back your moans, wanting to hear him when he cums. You watched as his eyebrows knit together again, his teeth biting down harshly on his bottom lip when the pleasure felt too good.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm cumming. Fucking cumming in this tight pussy," his stuttered moans blended together with your high-pitched moans. "Cum with me, baby."

You felt him twitch in me before his warm cum painted your walls as you released with him. He pulls out and watches his cum flow out of you in awe.

You both panted heavily from the rough workout. Heeseung dropped his body beside you and pulled you close to him.

"Thank you," he whispered, rubbing the sides of your waist. "For what?" "For being a good girl for me," he giggles, rubbing the tip of his nose against the crook of your neck.

[yunjinstoy]

˖ ࣪ ‹ missing hours 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡

cho hyunju x fem!reader.

c/w: smut, phone sex, hyunju before transition, dirty talking, sub!hyunju x powerbottom!reader, needy hyunju, mentions of dick, full porn, sugarmommy kinda?? reader, little mention of breeding, and others things, lowercase intentional. hyunju rose dialogue.

a/n: guy's it's my first time posting something so please give me constructive tips!

you've been with hyunju for almost 5 months, and it was wonderful. she was the sweetest girl you could ever asked for, caring, lovely, understandable, comforting..and a nice cooker, of course. she was the first girl to not care about your money, even tho she knew that you have good amount of it, she never asked, and whenever she did for some reasonable and no doubts reason, she was so embarrassing to ask you for money, but you didn't care.

if you could, you would buy everything in your power to make hyunju happy, happy wife happy life, as they say.

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some weeks ago, hyunju talked about how much she wanted to do the bottom surgery. it's not like it's anything new for her to talk about, she always did, she always showed how she wanted to be fully transitioned but she was also very afraid to do so. but since you guys got more comfortable and more intimate, she gained some confidence and desire to have surgery. it would be in thailand, she would say, because there's a lot of procedures well done there. so, the next day, you caught yourself searching for thailand travel flights and gender transition surgery clinics, and of course, you brought the best ones.

when you showed it to her, she almost cried of joy and expressed how much thankful she was for you by kissing your whole face (you loved it). but she also got feeling guilt because you spent money on her, but why wouldn't you? she deserves everything she wants. the girl was so happy but then reality touched her. you would not come with her since you had work to do that day, money doesn't come for nowhere, right?

she pouted while looking at you, sad that you would not be with her in such a beautiful and memorable moment in her life, and trust, you were so sad as she was, you wanted to go with her and give her all the love and comfort but you just... couldn't.

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it's been two days since hyunju arrived at thailand, on the 3rd day, the surgery would be done. it's was fucking difficult for her not being with you, even if it was only two days since she saw you, she missed you so much like she was not seeing you for weeks. she mumbled from one side to the other with longing, she missed your sweet face to her, your soft hearted words for her, your touch which was always hot, since you had warm skin. urrgh, she missed you and she needed you so much. some hours passed, and it's has already 11pm for her, the time where you guys would call each other before hyunju passing out in sleep, so it wouldn't be long before you called her. she was waiting anxiously, and finally, she heard the phone ringing.

"hello?" you say, amazed at how quickly she responded.

"hiii baby! how was your day? busy one?"

"not really, it was fine. and you? how you doing? nervous about tomorrow?" you asked, already knowing the answer. how badly you wished you were with her right now. and so did she, your voice and genuinely concerned tone made her feel safe and loved, and that only made her long for you even more.

"mhm...but it's gonna be just fine.. everything is going to be as it should and it won't take long until you're with me tomorrow after the operation, right?" you could sense her nervousness through her voice but as she spoke the rest, she became happier and more relaxed.

"yes, baby. i can and i'm so excited to see you..and to see our future place to live in." a smile appears on your face when you remember all the promises of living together in thailand.

"thank god...i've been missing you so much."

"aw really? i miss you too."

"no, i really miss you badly. i can't stand not having yours slightly touch."

you paused for some seconds, not responding to her. you always loved when your girlfriend was needy, just because it was something rare to happen because she was an expert on containing herself. so in this case, she was really missing you.

"i need you here, sleeping with me, killing me with love and kisses. i wanted you to touch me until i sleep... it's so difficult here without you."

she continues confessing this and that, and you could tell she was imagining everything she was saying out loud as you hear her pauses and heavy sighs. you didn't know what to do or say, should i let her continue or should i respond something? you thought repeatedly.

"i need you, i miss you. i-i wanted to enjoy the last night together while i have...you know.." her voice trembles a little bit but you couldn't decipher whether it was desire or nervousness. you gulp hard as you got what she meant. was she for real?

"w-what?" that was the only thing that escaped from your mouth. how pathetic.

"i wish you were playing with my co...cock..." what came out of her mouth sent you to heaven, the shy way she said such thing. and she was not helping neither since you could clearly hear her panting heavily. you were trying to putting the dots in order, was this really happening? does she want it? should i risk it? but as you were thinking hardly, hyunju spoke.

"please...say something, help me.. somehow."

okay, fuck it. it's your girlfriend and she's extremely needy for you, so why would you deny her with your head bubbling up right now?

"what are you wearing?"

"a blue pajama-type dress, no underwear."

nasty, you thought. even without you, she would be still that naughty. and in some sense, you could feel your blood popping up thinking about her being like this, all alone. without you taking care of her.

"you're so naughty, hyunju. i know you really want me to suck your cock and feel your gland beating in the back of my throat but no underwear isn't resolving nothing, baby, you know that, right?"

"i-i know...It's just to stay relaxed at night because i always end up thinking about you and then i get hard...and it hurts when i have something rubbing down there.."

"my baby thinking about me at night? about what? me bouncing on your big dick already dirty with cum of both of us?"

"f-fuck yes, i want that so bad.." it was hard for her to control her breath while speaking and you could tell right away.

"how bad?"

"so so so fucking bad, i need you to r-ride my cock so badly... it's throbbing and craving for your pu..ssy..feels so good when i'm inside you, you make me feel so fucking go-good..please please let me-"

"let you what?"

"let me touch myself while thinking about you swallowing my cock, please please pleas...se, i c-can't anymore..."

"turn the camera on and touch yourself."

and hyunju did. she placed her phone right in front of her so you could see exactly how her face looked like at the moment. she was with her cheeks extremely red, same as her lips which were also wet from the times she bit her lips to contain herself. she was wearing what she told she was, and it suited her so well. her cock was full out, hard, juicy, and throbbing with need. she waited some time for you to admire her, because she knew that you would. and then finally, she placed the palm of her hand on top of the cock that had been begging to be touched for some time now. hyunju started to masturbate herself and you swear that the view was way better than any work of art. her free hand was glued to her mouth, being bitten to contain the louder moans and pleasure that hyunju felt, but she failef miserably since you could perfectly hear every sound that came out of her mouth, her eyes closed tightly and her eyebrows that the furrowed and moved with every movement that hyunju made on her own cock.

"just like that, baby...imagine it's me there, imagine your hand is my pussy taking care of your desperate dick."

"lo-ve...i'm gonna...i-" the hand that surrounded her cock began to make much faster movements. you could see her dick twitching.

"cum just inside of me, hyun."

and then, her orgasm arrived. the jets of liquid were falling down on her cock and hand. oh, how you wanted to lick that. her chest coming and going fast desperately, controlling her panting breath as she opened her eyes slowly as if she had just woken up.

"you did so well, my baby. you-"

she cut you off.

"i need...more, i want to make the most of my last day with a dick...and with you, please let me cum more."

reality hit you, this was going to be a long night and the best phone call you ever had, you should send her to thailand alone more times.

[almostfoxglove]

ALI FAKHSDJGKH okay it's taken me 100 years to reblog this but I WANTED TO QUOTE SO MANY PARTS IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO NARROW THEM DOWN. holy shit. this was??? EVERYTHING. like, this is the canon I needed - redemption for what could have been with Helena and fulfillment of every delusion I've ever had about this man. it felt so true to the world of the show and to javi I'm actually announcing this as Canon. sorry folks!! I don't make the rules!!

gonna pop some favorite bits under the cut :,) AH

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

lord help me I would not survive this I am NOT god's strongest warrior I am a puddle on the FLOOR this is him holding the secretary's finger and complimenting her nail polish all over again DSDKFHJK

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

this is SO HEARTBREAKING ALI like what the FUCK oh my god. I feel like I can hear her and see her scared face and I'm going to cRY ABOUT IT

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys. “Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

sdhkfjhaskjhgfa

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

OHHHHH, to take javier pena apart with a massage!! HOW I YEAAARRRN

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

I love them so much. she's so charming and brings out the CRINKLY EYES and I would die for them both ok ANY DAY ANY TIME

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately.

this is so !!!!! JAVI. saying it without saying it, ya know? that he sees her. I'm gonna cry brb

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently. “There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

MY HEART POUNDED SO HARD AT THIS PART I DONT THINK YOU UNDERSTAND

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely. Tell me where he touched you.

*screams heard in the distance* *more wailing* *barking* *hollering*

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

THE URGENT IN THE MOMENT NOT THINKING "BABY"??? MY PERSONAL KRYPTONITE?? ALI THIS WAS AN ATTEMPT ON MY LIFE

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

oh my god the pain of this realization fucking SLAPPED ME I just!! was there!! feeling her fear!! my chest is so TIGHT the angst is so GOOD

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special. A code, a message. A lifeline.

this was such a perfect ending. hopeful and soft but also still so javi!! and I'm obsessed with it. I've read this three times, oops. AND WILL DO IT AGAIN <3 all the ways you wove in the moodboard (THEIR LITTLE CODE PHRASE AHHHHH) are so fucking perfect and seamless. ugh. so good. thank you soso much for joining the challenge and sharing this fucking masterpiece with us, WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED. you are a talent and a gem and I adore you <3

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 | Javier Pena x reader

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summary | Javier's a creature of habit, a man of opportunity, and you were unlucky enough to find him when he's at his most desperate.

author's note | written for @almostfoxglove angst challenge, i really hope i did this moodboard justice ghjfkd. thank you @amanitacowboy for reassuring me while writing this behemoth + translations are at the end.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, informant!reader, set through beginning of season 3 narcos to end, angst, smut, involvement with the cali cartel, paying for info and sex, javier's a gentleman i swear, gratuitous smut, jealous!javi, protected/unprotected piv, creampies, oral (f receiving), some vague violence toward the end, happy ending

word count — 10k

The new influx of customers has been an adjustment, used to the elder regulars with orders that never changed and people who were grabbing a bite after a late night shift, it left you flustered as you reached for the pen and paper shoved into your apron, smoothing out the cloth as you approach the group of men, carrying on their conversation without a care.

“El envío llega el domingo,” It was Friday, which meant whatever was coming in would be here in a couple days—they never said what, but it was always something.

And their eyes always eat you up, hair pulled back loosely as you greet them with a smile, taking down their order as they keep their sights locked on you and commenting on the swing of your hips and the curve of your ass as you depart. 

Like rabid dogs, feral and hungry.

You’ve learned to catalog their conversation, catching onto a regular pattern of when things were coming in and out, knowing that whatever nefarious business they are involved in couldn’t be good—but they tipped well and that wasn’t lost on you.

It was almost a month of daily interaction when a new customer pops in, nearing midnight as he settles into his booth quietly, thin button-up stretching over his shoulders as he removed his jacket and tossed it into the space beside him, yellow tinted sunglasses tucked into his shirt, catching the ashtray with a single finger and lighting the cigarette already settled between his lips.

You attempt to greet him, lips parting before he interrupts you, barely acknowledging your presence as he spits out the order for a coffee, black. Dickhead, you think. The pen and paper is shoved away in your pocket and you swing your hips around the counter to fulfill his order with a side of spitefulness.

When you approached again, it was with a nauseatingly sweet smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” You ask, catching his eyes briefly as they flicker up before he shakes his head, a roar of laughter and slaps coming from the booth a few feet away, perking your eyes up at the subtle information they were sharing, scooting out of the both as they slapped a bill on the table, passing by with a vicious smirk that had your blood running cold, the graze of fingertips brushing against your ass that had you biting down on the inside of your cheek to steady yourself, nearly falling into the table as they pushed by.

The stranger perks up at that, his eyes trailing over your body with the same robotic motion as them, but with an air of curiosity, like he was examining you and your reaction. 

“No—no, just the coffee,” He assures you, both of you watch as the group of men climb into their shared truck, “those your regulars?”

“Unfortunately,” You let slip without thinking, “I’m sure their boss would hate to hear how loud they talk about all transfers and shipments—can’t imagine it’s anything good.”

His eyes drag to your breasts, more pointedly toward the nametag pinned in your shirt. 

He speaks your name before introducing himself, “Javier,” He addresses, turning to dig into his jacket before he pulls out a leather wallet, opening it to flash off his credentials, “DEA.”

“Oh–I’m…I’m not…involved with them, if that’s what you think…” You don’t know why the revelation has your nerves shot, but the fingers that wrap around your wrist ground you.

Javier has spent weeks—not a single lead or piece of evidence to follow. You were his saving grace, a goddamn miracle. He tugs lightly, pulling your attention to him.

“How often do they come in here?”

“Uh,” You blink rapidly, trying to think, “Um—three or four times a week, usually every other day.”

He speaks your name gently, his demeanor changing as he releases his hold on your wrist before he motions for you to sit, looking around briefly to assess how busy the restaurant was.

At this hour, it was only you and him.

You slide into the booth and place your palms against the table, fiddling nervously with your fingers, watching as he puffed at the cigarette a few times before placing it in the ashtray, followed by a generous sip of his coffee. 

“Everything they’ve told you,” Javier begins, pointing his finger vaguely in your direction before he points down, fingertip pressing against the table, “tell me—not a detail spared.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as your mouth opens, tongue dragging against your bottom lip as you try to access the memory stored in the back of your brain before you remember the small, mostly indecipherable notes you had been taking.

You rip the wrinkled paper from your notepad and pass it over, his brow furrowing as he attempts to decipher the information and to your surprise, he does.

Unknowingly, you had captured a loose schedule they seemed to follow when they shipped things in and out, the day trading off as weeks passed, constantly changing to throw off suspicion, but eventually things overlapped and repeated.

Quietly, Javier pulls his wallet from his pocket and tosses over a wad of bills in your direction.

You stare at it blankly, eyes dragging up to his face as he nods toward the money.

“Should cover the coffee—and a tip.”

You reach for the money, pulling it apart to count, suspicious of the amount.

Prying the bills apart you count, eyes widening as the number rises.

“Sir—uh, Javier. This is…too much.”

“Not for the information,” He clarifies, peering cautiously over his shoulder, “If I come back every week can you promise more?”

You scoff lightly, pocketing the money regardless, “I can’t promise anything—besides, it’s always the same stuff. Just when things are coming and going, nothing more.”

“Can you get more?” Javier asks curiously, an eyebrow raising as he taps the ash off the cigarette and brings it to his lips, “Like, names—anything?”

“I can try, but—”

“I’ll pay.”

Unfortunately, waitressing was a shitty job.

And you were more than willing to allow Javier to turn you into his little informant.

You nod quietly.

-

His order changes depending on his mood.

He never orders food, usually coffee or whiskey.

Nothing less, nothing more.

And you do dig deeper, giving in to the absurd attempts at flirting and playing it up, allowing the occasional touches that make your skin crawl, returning them with fervor. Luckily, you had a strong stomach and handled it with ease, catching the names of the four that frequented the restaurant often, curiously asking about work and life, giving them vague or fake answers for your own when they pried.

“Three are single,” You tell Javier as you slide him a glass of whiskey neat, “desperately.”

Surprisingly, he chuckles at that. You’ve never heard it before.

It’s a nice sound.

“One is married, two kids.” 

You pass him a piece of paper with names and information, trading off for the cash he transfers in return, pocketing it inconspicuously. He’s never there at the same time as them, so the weight on your shoulders is lifted, but the creeping feeling of being watched stays put.

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

“They like it down,” You retort with a forced smile as a customer passes by with a nod, “so—up it is.”

Conversation was always easy with Javier, his charisma oozes out without even trying. It was natural for him, casually taking your hand into his during a slow shift, examining the lack of jewelry.

“Could get you a fake one, if it would help,” Javier suggests.

Unless you already had one, of course. His eyes flick up in a silent question.

“I don’t think it would matter,” You admit, “If they want something, they’re going to get it.”

The routine continues like this for a while, until eventually, it doesn’t.

A new group of men come in one Friday, the other, and another, throwing you off kilter.

They started rotating them, keeping you on edge as the information is becoming harder to obtain despite your attempts to dig and frustrations arise in Javier, but never with you.

Sometimes they don’t even speak at all, hushed tones at the table unless you’re needed—but, occasionally they get messy. It’s usually the younger guys, inexperienced, fresh-faced, eager to please the big boss but riding on an uncapped power high.

One of the men gets particularly ostentatious, always coming in on a drunken stupor and slurred words, eyeing you like a piece of meat that he was eager to sink his teeth into. He slips you his number more than once, ignores your polite attempts at a subject change when the rest of the men are hyping him up, and rarely takes your refusal into consideration. 

Eventually the fear that has built in you overflows, suspicion arising when you leave work a night after Javier had long departed, a night of very little information exchange outside of casual talk—and even that was forced, understanding how frustrated Javier had become. 

One of the men had stuck around, only a brief crossover as Javier had stepped into the restaurant, his eyes tracking you the entire way out before you’re pulled in by Javier’s voice ordering his drink of the night, squeezing his shoulder gently in response.

You should have known better, you should have spoken up.

Javier would’ve done something then, but instead, you convince yourself to forget about that uncomfortable feeling that crept in. You knew what would help, biding your time until Javier left for the night, ignoring how he seemed to eye you too, but with a glazed over expression of worry.

There was a car you barely noticed, swallowed up by shadows and turning on as you drove down the road when you finally clocked out, the minutes dragging before you pulled into the parking lot of the chapel you had sped towards with a weight on your chest and a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You couldn’t recall that last time you had visited, but you were desperate now more than ever.

You needed solace.

Prayer comes naturally, dedicated to begging for protection over yourself, allowing the silence of the space to consume you as soft footsteps of other patrons walked by, just raising your chin as a hand clasps over your shoulder, nearly falling to your ass as you turn to connect the owner of the hand to a body. 

“Javier?” You ask quizzically, “Did you follow me?”

“No?” He looks confused, answering with full honesty.

That twisting feeling in your gut sinks further, looking around briefly.

“I can provide protection,” Javier tells you, “if you need it.”

You stay quiet, chewing gently at your bottom lip, scanning the room for familiar faces.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it? I could sense it, back at the diner.”

There was only Javier, still mostly a stranger.

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

“I spent a long time trying to take down Escobar, I find that kind of insulting, chiquita.”

He’s met with silence, understanding your need for reassurance. 

“Yes, I am,” He tells you, his gaze unwavering, “I should’ve offered a protection detail to you from the jump, but I figured me being around often enough would work—did someone follow you here?”

“I don’t know, I kinda lost sight of them.”

You fall silent, staring at a crease in the denim of his jeans as you speak. 

“Should I be worried?” You ask quietly, turning your body toward him, “Like—are they going to kill me?”

“They’re getting uneasy,” Javier responds vaguely, before assuring, “Not because of you.”

“I should…I should tell you,” You take a breath, “One of them invited me to a party, I have his number. I told him I would have to work some things out, but I never…”

“Was it this weekend?” Javier asks suddenly, the lines in his forehead creasing at the mention.

“Yeah—yeah, why—”

“Say yes,” Javier urges, “I’ll keep you safe.”

It was a big promise, but Javier’s pleading eyes worked like a spell.

“This is gonna cost, Javier.”

“Name your price, hermosa.”

–

Javier’s touch is white-hot, cigarette tucked between his lips as he brushes your hair behind your ear and presses the in-ear monitor inside, hiding it behind the gaudy jewelry attached to your ear and adjusts your hair back over, stepping back and raking his eyes over your frame casually, pinching the cigarette from his lips with his thumb and pointer finger as he blows the smoke out.

“It’s small enough they won’t notice but try and keep it covered,” He tells you, his free hand shoved into his front pocket as his presence fills your apartment, moving around sheepishly under his gaze, “I’ll be a few minutes away, if anything goes south I’ll get you out.”

You stumble slightly slipping on your heels, caught by his tight grip as he steadies you. 

“Sorry—I’m freaking out,” You admit, looking away nervously as his grip loosens but doesn’t leave, firm around your bicep as you sleep your other foot inside the hell, “Th—thank you.”

“You smoke?” Javier asks causally as you stand.

“Not really,” You respond, “Occasionally, I guess. It’s probably more social, if I’m being honest.”

He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and offers it to you, placing it between your lips as you take a small puff without thinking or being told, an effective way to calm your nerves as you focused on the action as he points toward the cigarette, “Don’t drink or smoke anything they give you tonight,” Javier warns, “communication works both ways, I need you coherent.”

He pulls the cigarette away and places it between his own lips again.

The nicotine stings your throat and chest, giving you a noticeable distraction that calms your mind. “How do I look?” You force a tight smile, twirling on your feet as the dress clung to your curves, a soft, velvet red, “Fuckable, I hope. Otherwise I’m not getting anything out of them.”

Javier snorts at that, brow creasing at your crudeness.

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys.

“Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

“Yeah, sure,” He mumbles around the cigarette between his lips, “fuckable.”

The way the word rolls of his tongue is visceral, ignoring the pulse between your legs at the vibrato in his voice and the chuckle that follows—regardless, it helped ease your nerves. 

–

It’s loud, sweaty, and overwhelming.

You thought they would choose something less…obvious.

But, it was becoming more and more clear how much of the town was under the Cali Cartel’s payroll, learning more and more information as Javier shared it with you in bits and pieces, your curiosity getting the better of you.

The idea was to mingle, drifting far enough away from your date that you might happen upon one of Javier’s more meaningful targets, not going as far as to infiltrate the heads, but someone damaging if you sunk your teeth in. 

You quickly come upon the realization that most of the men are confusing you with entertainment, rather than being a guest, quickly side-stepping the hands that reach for you as you squeeze your way toward the bar, sliding into an empty seat with a breath of relief.

“They are animals,” The voice beside you speaks—belonging to a man who was scientifically handsome; oddly perfect, hair perfectly coiffed and mused into place, a perfect set of teeth hidden behind plush lips and piercing green eyes—you had memorized the face in the picture Javier had shown you, “¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?”

You almost forget he’s talking to you for a moment, staring up at him distractedly before Javier’s voice speaks softly in your ear, “Answer him, chiquita. He’ll get suspicious.”

“Oh, yes,” You answer quickly, moving in closer to converse over the roar of music and the heavy buzz of strobe lights flashing overhead, “I seem to have lost my date, though.”

“Don’t worry,” He smirks, “I will keep you company.”

It does take a few drinks and you nursing your own, but you play into the act of being a mere accessory on the mysterious man’s arm, allowing him to drag you around the club with no real path to follow, eventually ending up with a smaller group of men huddled away in a corner, standing dutiful and quiet as the men talk amongst themselves in obscure words, almost like a code. 

“I can’t—I can’t hear them,” Javier’s speech is garbled, drown out by the music as you squint at the pain of the feedback in your ear, “can’t—hurry—”

Eventually, you find an opening to excuse yourself.

“Hermosa,” The voice freezes you in place, but the touch is gentle, surprisingly, “I would like to see you again, outside of here—”

You quickly ramble off the name of the diner, attempting to pull away, but not before a kiss is pressed against the front of your hand, feeling the heat burn through your skin like a brand before you’re slipping through the crowd, unable to take a deep breath until you’re outside.

You walk the distance to where Javier had parked originally, finding him buried deep in a conversation with someone who had pulled up in another car, hands curled around the driver’s side window, his head turning as he heard the distinct click of your heels.

“Fuck,” He curses, approaching you with his hands hovering around you—not touch or prodding, almost hesitant to cross that boundary unless it was absolutely needed, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” You answer confused, nose scrunching up as you peered around him at the unknown agent, his window rolling up before he drove off, “what’s that about?”

“We think someone might have jammed the comms—there’s no way to know, it could have been the club itself, one of the agents is going to look into it—”

“Can you drive me home?” You interrupt suddenly, rubbing at the spot on your hand that the man had kissed, feeling dirty, “I’m full up on being felt up tonight and I want to change.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Javier replies after a moment of hesitation, “let’s go.”

You rip the device from your ear the moment the passenger door closes.

–

Javier places your heels against the floor as you walk barefoot into your apartment, a simple but kind gesture as your belongings scattered against your kitchen counter, fingers dragging through the front of your hair and back as you smeared your makeup in the process.

“Oh, the uh—the code,” You remember suddenly, “something about a bridge, as the sun rises…something with water. The guy, the picture you showed me. He approached the four you told me were important. I don’t think they liked me being there, but I also think they assumed I was too ignorant to remember a few words.”

Javier pauses, hands digging into his hips as he paces near your door.

“Do you want a beer?” You ask curiously, the furrow in his brow sinking deep as he attempts to decipher the code, he nods silently.

You figured with the information bestowed he would leave, but instead he stays, sipping at his beer for over an hour as you watch him move, his brain working things out in real time.

He’s beside you know, hands pressed into the counter as he pushed his body away, staring down at his feet as he repeated the words aloud, but quietly, like a murmur. 

“Are you sure they aren’t distributing right under your nose?”

Javier’s head tilts to the side as he looks at you, confused by your analogy.

You stare out your window for a moment, curtains pushed open, the gray luminescence of the moon illuminating the inky night sky, “I mean, they’re obviously paying people off, always partying at clubs—wait, the bridge and water,” A thought pops into your head, grabbing Javier by the hand before you’re pulling him to your apartment window, “what if they’re meeting on boats? I mean, not to say that’s how it’s getting it in, but—”

“That…makes sense,” Javier says, void of any distinct emotion as he takes a long chug of his beer before placing it on the ledge of the window, rubbing at the shoulder of his opposite arm.

“Annoyed you didn’t think about it first?” You tease, turning to tilt your head at him like he had earlier.

“Hadn’t gotten that far yet, we’re still trying to put the pieces together,” He grimaces at the tightened muscles, rolling his neck as his hands settle back against his hips, “that’ll help, though.”

“Sit down,” You urge him, pointing toward your couch and Javier looks at you with dull amusement before you’re urging him again with your insistent finger, eventually he relents.

Immediately, you round the back of the couch and allow your fingers to dig into his shoulder, working out the soreness with deft fingers, “Shit—you don’t have to,” Javier begins to protest before your hand is curling around the back of his head and pushing it forward, molding him to how you needed him positioned as your fingers dig in deep, “that’s, fuck, that’s…shit, right there.”

His voice is pure erotica, but it makes your lips curl in amusement. It was that pathetic desperation you heard so often from the men you served daily—that slight pitch to their tone as they tried to grab your attention, but with Javier, he’s completely detached.

His hands were tucked between his legs, head resting forward as you dug in with a strong, pointed touch, his groan reverberating down his spine. 

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

“Oh, come on,” You tease, “I was just getting started.”

Javier shakes his head and stifles the laughter in his chest, resting against your couch as his hands circle the beer in his grasp, looking up at your face, tilted down toward his own as your fingers curl around the back of the couch, straps slipping down your shoulders in your relaxed state.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Javier checks, given you’ve had a proper amount of time to wind down from the adrenaline of being inside the club surrounded by dealers and potential kingpins.

He’s worried. He barely knows you and he’s still worried.

“It’s a rush,” You admit candidly, “But, I’m pretty resilient, Javier. Work is work. I’ve dealt with worse assholes on the job, I’m good at putting on a face when I need to.”

“What about now?” Javier asks curiously, eyes exploring your morphing expression of amusement to bashfulness, the way he’s staring at you outright, words unspoken.

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

He doesn’t like the way this job winds him up, the tension taught in his spine and unrelenting, staring up at you with a tinge of a buzz from the alcohol and the sight of your sloping breasts spilling out of your dress.

He’s used to driving miles and miles for peace of mind and a nice body to sink into, but you’re here, you’re smiling at him and he’d be damned to refuse the opportunity you’re presenting to him, leaning down as his hand comes up without thinking, twisting in your hair as his head turns to meet yours at the same angle, placing his beer down in the same instance.

“The fucking worst,” He echoes, his hands crawling up the edge of your dress as you climb over the couch with his guidance, speaking through rushed exchanges of lips, his hot, beer-tainted breath against your skin as he situates the dress up at your hips, straddling him without a second thought, “you were right about the dress—”

“Fuckable,” You both agree in unison, sighing audibly at the kiss he places to your chin, neck, shoving his face between the valley of your breasts as you work silently at his jeans, the clang of his buckle, metal against metal as you loosen it enough to free his straining cock, his breath catching as you wrap your fingers around the velvety skin of his shaft.

“M-My wallet,” He chokes out, muffled as your tongue dips into his mouth, stop briefly to savor the touch as his hands cups your face, eventually drifting into your hair in a similar manner to earlier but then he’s tugging, “got—got a condom.”

“Of course you do,” You snort in merriment, “is that—is that what we’re doing?”

Javier nods eagerly, never separating more than a millimeter from your lips as you stare at him, his eyes staring right back, searching your expression for any minute twitch of deception.

When Javier fits himself inside of you it is with a broken grunt, a curse under his breath, and a hand squeezing tight at your hip, fingers digging into the bunched up cloth as he wraps his opposite arm around your back, pulling you toward him with a sharp snap of his hips.

You gasp, falling over the back of the couch as your hands grasped at the surface in desperation, the start of a quick but all consuming pace of his hips, his lips mouthing at your skin; arms, fingers, even over your ribs, biting gently through the velvety fabric of your dress, stifling his shaky moans, attempting to avoid the glaringly obvious fact that he hasn’t been able to release his stress like this in weeks.

A willing participant, a body, convenience. 

Deep down, you know. 

But, you found yourself in the same mix of issues.

Regardless, you both ignore it.

–

Javier is gone by morning—or, what is left of it. 

The exhaustion of the night and the sex catching up to you, coming undone on his cock as he gripped your ass, feeling the bruises he’d left in the process and remembering the soft, filthy words of encouragement he had whispered against your skin as you came.

He even locked your apartment and slipped the key under the crack in the door, stumbling toward the glinting gold piece on the ground and the folded up note on the ground, eyebrow creasing at the sight as you kneel to the ground, adjusting your dress hastily. You squint to read the hastily written note.

Got a lead. Money is for last night.

You peel the paper open and spot the money inside, eyes widening as you slowly realize that this was far more than he’s given you before, nearly double the first time, slowly you fold the paper back over and check the back, inspecting the item as a whole before you notice the writing on the back.

We should do it again sometime, chiquita. 

You look up at the door slowly, at the cash, before peering over your shoulder at the couch, still indented with sleep and a blanket strewn carelessly over the cushions.

He paid you for sex. He’d made it transactional. 

There’s a brief moment where you’re stricken with offense, half the mind to track him down and chew him out, but you remember how your exchange started and ultimately how it would end.

Plus, it was half your rent paid for from the result of the type of sex you haven’t allowed yourself to have in far too long, disconnected from feeling and fully freeing. 

Besides, it must be a regular thing for Javier and you couldn’t even blame him.

He was only doing his job.

–

A protection detail does work for a brief time, at least, it eases some of your worry.

It was a younger agent, Javier had told you, little to no responsibility outside of keeping his eyes on you and reporting back when necessary. As some of the leads start to blossom, Javier appears less and less, but still follows through on his payments when you have information to exchange, even if it’s only a name or time of day for something.

You do find the boldness to ask him about the money he’d forked over for sex, flowing lightly into conversation as he gives you a recount of his time with Escobar after a night of curiosity and lacking customers drags you into the booth beside him.

Always taking careful note of any personal tidbits he would offer. You knew he wasn’t married or that, at the very least, he was an expert at hiding it. No kids, no spouse, no baggage.

“Is it hush money?” You ask bravely, counting through your tips for the night as he sips gingerly at the glass half full of whiskey, “Because if so, I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyways.”

His brow creases, confused for a brief second before you mouth the words.

My couch, the sex.

“Didn’t want things getting confusing,” Javier admits, “If it’s any consolation, the sex was good.”

“You’re too complicated for me anyways,” You snort softly, separating the bills accordingly as you glance over at him briefly, a soft hum in his throat as his lips wrap around the edge of his glass as he downs the rest of the liquor, “Was it a one time thing?”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Javier admits, “figured I should draw the line early—you aren’t offended are you? Because if you need me to remind you how good it—”

As you finish, dragging the money into one pile, you shrug, “I’m off in thirty.”

The sway of your hips as you exit the booth and head toward the back of the restaurant is enough to have Javier suffering half-hard in his jeans, legs widening as he inconspicuously rubs his palm over the denim to adjust himself, awaiting the small nod of your head around the corner that comes half an hour later. 

–

Javier is efficient, you learn.

What first starts off as a casual trade turns into pure, unrestrained stress relief. 

It bleeds into work for both of you, finding time to drag him off into the back office when you knew it was available, fucking over the desk with any empty kitchen and diner as the hours waned into the early morning and everyone was either on break or asleep.

You never offer up much about yourself, very little about your life before moving to Colombia or why you’ve stuck around for so long—but he does know you’re disconnected from your family almost entirely, completely alone.

He has a huge family back in Laredo, people that clearly care about him, catching him on the phone with his father one night as they bickered lightheartedly, something about Javier needing to find time to vacation sooner rather than later.

When you have sex at your apartment, he always smokes afterwards, whether in your bed or by the open window in your living room, always careful about the barrier of clothing that remains, never entirely naked in front of one another.

He doesn’t look at you either, won’t kiss you further than something quick—a wet, sloppy exchange of tongues as he fucks into you from behind, pulled back tight to his chest as his hand strains and squeezes around your neck to turn your head toward him.

And he never stays, doesn’t stay hung up on goodbyes. 

He waits until you’re asleep, places the money at your bedside, and leaves.

But, there is a moment when you hear the tone in his voice switch, almost offended.

You’re both naked from the waist down and he’s thrusting into you lazily as his lips latch onto the section where your neck meets your shoulder, recounting the details that you’ve learned today, easily killing two birds with one stone.

He mentioned something earlier that night about a bust gone wrong, chewing frustratedly at his bottom lip as he spoke more with his eyes than his words before you had dragged him toward the back.

“Benny offered to take me on a date,” You address lightly, voice hitched as Javier used his palm against the inside of your thigh to spread it wider before it curls around the back of your knee and pulls up high over his lip, “he bought me an outfit and everything.”

He racks through the catalog of names in his brain.

Benny. Benny…Benito?

He wasn’t aware he’d spoked the name out loud until you’re responding with a soft acknowledgement as the desk bangs against the wall, your hand flattening out behind you for support, “Yes—same thing. I’m sure it’s for the—”

“The gala, yeah.”

He had spent the past few weeks trying to approach a way to get inside, knowing that this would be an opportunity to track the ever-expanding tree of sellers and suppliers, a front for the obvious drug trade that was happening, as you phrased it, right under his nose. 

The boat lead had only gotten them so far, knowing that there was much more nefarious shit going on that he was grasping at straws to collect off of, using you as his main source of information.

He knows it’s dangerous, but damn were you good at it.

“When did that c—come up?” Javier asks, grunting into your neck as his orgasm creeped in, his fingers drifting expertly over your clit as they had a dozen times before.

“Couple weeks ago,” You reply casually, both you falling into your eventual orgasms and only hearing him speak as he’s already disposed of his condom and was buttoning his jeans up.

“When were you gonna tell me that?”

It feels like a heavy weight on your chest, the clear betrayal in his voice coming from absolutely nowhere, immediately forcing you into defense mode as you sneer at him, adjusting your top back into your jeans as you tie your apron around your waist.

“I’m telling you now,” You retort, “I wasn’t even sure he dropped the clothes off here yesterday.”

It couldn’t have been that crucial of a detail, given that the gala wasn’t happening for another week according to the information that had been figured out.

Javier looks stiff suddenly, shoving his wallet into his back pocket before your hand is twisting around his bicep and shoving him back until he faces you.

“Is there something you need to say?” Your eyebrows raise slightly, expectant of the harsh words that were bound to be slung your way.

“I’m paying for information—honesty, too.”

“Yeah, well, you’re also paying to have sex with me.”

Javier isn’t sure why he feels it—it isn’t jealousy, necessarily. Just betrayal, that over the last few months you didn’t feel comfortable enough to share the information with him immediately, weary of the temptations of the cartel and the idea that they could pull you in, flip you against him.

He worries for your safety and well-being, knowing that he would be the one living with that guilt if anything happened to you. You were a friend at the very least, something few and far between for Javier after Steve had left. If he wasn’t at work or his own apartment, he was with you.

Javier forces a breath through his nose and huffs, eyes flicking toward you intensely. 

“It’s important to know this shit, so we can prepare.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, alright? It’s not like I’m keeping secrets. I’m sure you could do your research on me if you wanted, if you haven’t already. I have nothing to hide and nothing to gain, Javier.”

His shoulders relax slightly, widening as he puffs his chest out and takes a breath, “Yeah, but they have plenty to gain from you—we have to stay ahead.”

Always one step ahead.

–

The gala comes and goes without much preamble—and you know you’re serving as mostly arm candy, dressed scantily as you hand on the arm of a man you barely know, paraded around as a prize he’s won and showing off to his friends, but he’s surprisingly respectful.

Or, biding his time. You couldn’t tell. 

You don’t force off his small advances, a gentle touch or something too close for comfort as he lips pressing against the shell of your ear, whispering something you don’t pay much attention to as you survey the event, spotting a flurry of faces familiar and unfamiliar, picking up on names and information as it arises.

Javier could still hear everything on his end with the small, nearly invisible communication device shoved into your ear, hidden underneath your hair similar to last time, careful of which side you allowed Benny on.

“My boss is sending us on vacation soon,” You didn’t pay much attention, but Javier was, “could be fun, if you wanted to go—I could talk to him, he’d like you.”

Perfect. Useful. You can already hear the words that would float around if the opportunity arises. You prayed it would never get that far.

“Change the subject,” Javier says tensely, knowing you were traversing into dangerous territory.

“I’m sure your boss won’t mind, I’ll talk to him, too,” You can feel the smirk over your shoulder before you turn, wondering if he had ever met the owner of the diner or he was purely assuming, regardless, you laugh it off quietly.

“I have to stick around and keep things going, they wouldn’t survive without me,” You switch gears easily, “I don’t see you often, just your friends—why don’t you come around more?”

He’s only appeared a couple times and both were brief, first to ask you to the gala and then to give you the dress, almost like he’d rather avoid the place entirely. You were careful of giving him any personal information outside of where you worked, knowing that it wasn’t already accessible information.

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t think it’s about what I want, is it?” You retort playfully, a smirk growing on his face as his thumb slides over your chin, careful how deep of a jab you make, “It’s up to you.”

Benito’s hand rubs over the back of your dress and down, fingers modeling against the loose wrinkles in the fabric as he moves over the curve of your ass and squeezes, a small squeak escaping your lips as you bite down at the inside of your cheek, ignoring the knee-jerk reaction to elbow him in the stomach.

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately. 

The next hour drags painstakingly slowly, but eventually Benito drops you off at the diner at your insistent request, despite his pressuring you to invite him back to your apartment.

When you step into the threshold of your living room, Javier is already opening up the dinner had ordered at your subtle request earlier that evening, a smug smile on his face as you shake your head in exhaustion, sleeping over you hills in and instant and half-way stripping out of your dress before you even make it to your bedroom.

Javier grins in amusement as you thrust the device that you rip out of your ear into his chest, quietly tucking it away on the table as he prepares the food.

You’re dressed for comfort when you return, a shirt reaching beyond your thighs as you settle the bare skin against the barstool, underwear peeking out as you sit, immediately shoveling the food into your mouth.

You ramble out the names you caught onto, watching as Javier scribbled them down, rubbing at your temples to soothe the growing headache as you finish up your food and shove it aside, eventually slumping against the counter as you groan weakly.

You can feel Javier’s hand graze your knee, squeezing gently at your thigh, a silent invitation.

“I’m so tired, Javi,” You admit, “You can keep your cash, don’t worry. The whole thing was a bust, anyways.”

The chair creaks as Javier leans toward you, whispering against your ear, “Ven aqui,” He beckons as he pulls at your arm, guiding you silently to your room, half-expecting him to tuck you into bed and leave, but then he’s guiding you backwards toward the mattress and spreading out between your legs on the duvet as he removes your underwear, your lips forming into a subtle pout until he’s splitting you open with his tongue, a gasp escaping at the sudden sensation, fingers twisting into his hair roughly.

“Javi, what are you doing?” You inquire—it was new, a careful line drawn between you both earlier on that it was strictly sex, disconnection, but now he was trying to leave the impression of his tongue against your cunt as he devoured you all at once, squeezing at your thighs to spread them open further, a sated expression on his face that had to be a mix of his own exhaustion, delirious with want.

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently.

“There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,” You squeeze down tightly as your eyes fall shut, his mouth sucking over your clit as your back arches off the bed.

You come faster than you expect and had you known his mouth was so talented, you would have suggested this earlier, but through the waning of your orgasm you feel his tongue drifting over your skin in the wake of his previous touches, lapping at the salty skin before his tongue eventually finds the way toward your breast, swirling around the sensitive skin as your nipple hardens against his mouth, innately curious of his actions but not voicing them.

There was never any predicting with Javier, figuring that maybe he needed a little more distraction tonight, but as your orgasm dissipates and the hand in his hair stays, he never moves, only a low rumble to his breathing as you attempt to catch your own breath before you’re slowly leaning up and realizing his eyes were shut and he had fallen asleep.

Whatever was ailing him had finally taken hold, able to squirm away through his heavy sleep before you’re draping a blanket over his frame, still dressed from the day.

You can’t find the courage inside yourself to disturb him as he took up half of your bed, opting for the couch in the off-chance he woke up in the middle of the night to you beside him, stirring up another list of issues you didn’t feel like dealing with.

–

Surprisingly, you wake before him. The sky barely fading out of night as you stir, rising from the couch as the bulky phone on the counter—it was Javier’s, you knew that.

But still, you answer it. It couldn’t hurt, just tell them to leave a message.

Instead, as you hear the familiar voice on the other end, you find yourself pulled into an unsuspecting conversation with his father that drags into the morning hours as the sun rises, meandering over breakfast before you here him stirring in the other room, trying to ignore how pleasant but telling the conversation with Javier’s father was as you place the phone down on the counter and begin cooking breakfast, silently, still half-dressed in the clothes from the night prior, minus your underwear strewn somewhere on your bedroom floor.

He’d asked how Javier was doing when you told him your name, surprised that he was familiar with you, learning that Javier had spoken about you to him, though briefly.

Probably in passing, maybe. You try not to dwell on it.

“He seems fine,” You told him, “Busy, though.”

He’s always busy, he tells you. Cuidar a mi hijo.

He was worried, rightfully so. But, Javier was an adult, his own person. 

He wasn’t your responsibility and you weren’t his.

And you try to ignore the strange sensation in your chest at the immediate elation from his father hearing your name, like an old family friend hearing from you for the first time in years, even though you knew very little of his father.

You’ve learned enough about Javier, at least. His likes and dislikes, vague interests that he commented on, the grimace in his face that would grow deeper the harder he got stuck on something, a thought or idea.

Javier clears his throat as he enters the kitchen, avoiding your gaze as you slide the meat and eggs onto two separate plates before passing it to him.

“You could have woke me up,” He said, looking up at you briefly with mused hair, his shirt wrinkled from sleep.

“Your father called,” You ignored his comment, “you should call him back.”

“You talked to him?” Javier asks blankly, no distinct emotion shining through.

“For, like, half a second,” You lie, “I just told him you were asleep.”

He didn’t need to know his father’s worry or how much he’d given away about what he knew of you, secrets that were obviously meant to be kept between them, but as Javier chews with thought, eager to break the lingering silence, he asks.

“He mentioned it, didn’t he?”

You shrug your shoulders cluelessly, “I think you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“That I’ve talked about you, or at least, he knows who you are.”

“It’s none of my business, really.”

“He hears you, at the diner—he’s nosey. I’ve mentioned you in passing. I just…I know how he gets, I don’t want you thinking anything is going on,”

“I’m not paid to think, Javier,” You tell him.

It’s disparaging, his nose scrunching up slightly at your words and the emptiness with which you throw them. This is where he always seemed to fuck up, distinguishing work from his life but somehow maintaining the balance of peace and humanity.

Do you want to explain last night? You mind screamed, but instead you offer him his coffee, the usual black with minimal or no sugar, giving him the option as you slide the mug and container in his direction. He fishes blindly for his wallet but your hand stops him.

You sigh, “That’s not—I wasn’t implying you need to now. I—I just think we should maybe reframe what we’re doing, given that things have…progressed,” The word lingers on your tongue while you bite at your bottom lip. “I’m worried they might find out where I live or about you—or the fact that I’m literally helping the DEA catch them and praying can only do so much and I’m here alone—”

“Hermosa, slow down,” Javier urges, shoving his wallet back into his pocket at your guidance and avoiding the obvious domesticity of having slept overnight in your apartment and ate the breakfast you cooked him. 

It was in his nature to care, to a degree. It was his downfall sometimes, to a devastating fault. He striked while you were vulnerable and roped you into his own mess, now paying for it with guilt that had seeped into his personal life, spending the entire night prior picturing how Benito was handling you, how he could step in—how it could have been him instead.

“She doesn’t sound like work,” His father had told him a week ago, returning a flirtatious quip as you had passed him his usual coffee and offered him a light for his cigarette after his hadn’t worked, that sort of boyish tone in his voice that his father picked up on in a second.

The lines had blurred with Helena after a while, a similar circumstance that he continued to find himself in—paying for info, paying for sex, attempting to make it impersonal. But, here you were, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, and he didn’t know how to fix the mess he had made. 

He couldn’t see you hurt or send you into danger like he had with Helena, the helpness he’d felt as he discovered her near lifeless body, covered in blood and bruises after she had been beaten and traded around—it couldn’t happen, it wouldn’t.

–

Javier returns with a phone later that day, similar to his with his number attached to a piece of paper he shoves into your hand as he directs you to pack a bag in the case of an actual emergency, something quick to grab that you wouldn’t have to second guess about. 

“You’re making it seem like I should be leaving now,” You tell him, taking the items he passes into your hand as you fold a stack of clothes and toiletries into the bag.

Javier shakes his head, “It’s better be safe,” He explains, “I…doubt—I don’t think they would be. We have someone listening around the clock, people on the inside, there haven't been any red flags.”

“What if something does? What if I can’t reach you?”

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” He tells you simply, your face contorting in confusion. “It’s a code—a phrase only you and I know. If you use that, it means danger. Through a note, or that phone. I just have to hear it.”

You zip the bag up in silence, feeling the weight of the web you had tangled yourself in finally settling, curious if you would be back at square one, fleeing to a different country to escape your problems.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

You nod, a subtle motion but Javier sees it.

“Javier, we should talk,” You echo once more, though with different meaning, “about last night.”

“I’ll still pay, hermosa—that isn’t a problem.”

You could handle the way it was eating at you.

“No, I mean—I mean why did last night happen? Why is your dad telling me to keep you safe?”

His face hardens at the mention of his father.

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely.

Tell me where he touched you.

“You started this, you know?” You remind him, “You made this transactional.”

Was he scared of you?

Eerily silent he remains, you speak for him.

“I’m not a whore either, so if that is how you view me—I really don’t want your help at all.”

The keys in hand are gripped tight as you chance a glance toward the floor, his body entirely unmoving, his eyes downturned and staring in a similar direction, almost like he couldn’t find the words.

I”m not asking you to give a shit about me, but—”

His answer is a kiss, searing and intense, keys tossed to your bed as his fingers dive into your hair, curling around your head as you make a sound of surprise, steadying yourself as you grip his biceps and stumble backwards, tripping over the dress you had stripped yourself of last night.

You still hadn’t dressed from earlier, his hands flattening against your hips as he molds the soft flesh under his grip, his teething biting into your bottom lip as he murmurs, “Belt, get my belt,” without question, your fingers go to work, ripping the leather away in a practiced motion as you continue to unbutton his jeans, “—think I don’t give a shit, are you fucking insane?”

“A little,” You jest, “I mean—I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

This felt strangely vulnerable, his fingers pulling at your shirt with a deliberate endgame.

Naked in the natural lighting of your room, his fingers reaching for his own shirt as you work his jeans down his hips, appreciating his tanned skin as it shines with a thin layer of sweat. Despite the sticky heat that permeated throughout your apartment, his touch is cooling, comforting even.

“Another freebie?” You tease him further, hearing him snort as he reaches for his wallet and crowded you on the mattress, opening the tight leather before he grabs a wad of cash and shoves it into the sheets before tossing his wallet aside and diving between your breasts.

“Making me a poor man,” Javier retorts, peeking up through your tits as he squeezed them in his grip, mouthing delicately along the skin, “shit—but this, s’fuckin’ priceless.”

“I’m—fuck, I’m kidding, Javier. I don’t want your money. Never wanted it.”

It had always been about convenience, never expecting things to end up like this.

It was a mess, both of you were.

He’s seeing all of you, for once, and you him. 

And you know he needs, wants, without saying.

He fucks you slow, legs hitched around his hips as buries his head into the space beside yours, only rising as your noises grow with intensity, the bluntness of your nails digging into his skin.

“Inside,” You beg, “inside of me, Javi.”

He moans pathetically, lips squished against your cheek as his hips falter.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Can I?”

You giggle airly at his question, nodding fervently.

“Mierda,” He curses brokenly, groaning softly into your skin as he pumps himself inside of you, the warmth of his cum filling you to the brim, oozing out as his hips slow, his hands kneading into your skin as he rests, breathing rapidly against your chest.

“We should—should talk, Javier.” You tell him again, after a moment of silence. “Like, really talk—you know?”

Javier hums in acknowledgment, “Tonight—give me until tonight, okay?”

Tonight was good enough, for now.

–

The first thing you feel when you rouse from sleep is pain.

White-hot and persistent, restrained by your hand as they’re tucked behind your back. You feel more hands, the sound of stiff leather and the smell, overwhelming as it invades your senses.

“I see why he keeps you around,” The voice comes from behind, eyes bleary as you blink before the hand in your hair grips tight, only catching the fist coming at you from your peripheral before your world goes dark.

When you wake again, you’re upright and in a chair, head slung back uncomfortable as you attempt to stretch, feeling heavy and groggy as you move, remembering the moment from earlier you become alert within seconds, eyes searching around frantically as you spot two men.

They were strangers, faces covered, but obviously sent here for a reason.

“Benny thought he could get it out of you,” The man says dismissively, “you foreigners—stupid, messy, predictable.” He grabs the fabric of your dress and plucks the small, miniscule device from the fabric that you missed, squinting to see it before the man breaks it between two fingers and tosses the dirtied fabric aside.

“We got her to ourselves, plenty of time to—”

“No,” The other man replies sternly to the obvious subservient man, “her boss—that’s what we came here for.”

“My boss?” You croak eventually, “At the diner? What do you want with—”

The gun he pulls from his back silences you in an instant. He reaches for the phone on the counter, the yellow sticky note still attached, “That him?”

“It’s mine,” You reply with ease, “I’m forgetful and—”

Your throat swells as he ignores you, dialing the number.

You hadn’t let the reality of the situation settle until you heard Javier’s voice on the other end, careful to not give anything away as his voice comes across more energetic than usual. They didn’t seem upset at the lie, but the finger on the trigger squeezed slightly as his voice came through, a silent order to play along.

“Hola, chiquita,” Javier greets smoothly, “¿Todo bien?”

You laugh softly, “Yes—yeah.”

You know what they want, what they need.

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” You beg, voice unwavering as you stare the two men down, both of them seeming satisfied by your ploy to get Javier to the apartment without much argument.

The line falls dead without a response, the phone tosses aside to the floor as it shatters into pieces. 

Unfortunately, they weren’t going to get it easily.

–

You wished you could warn him.

One wrong move and the blade at your throat, the gun to your head—they would be your undoing.

You stared blankly at the broken lock and hinge of your door, footsteps approaching as you whimpered, the sharpness of the knife pressing against your skin as Javier whips around the corner and into the apartment.

The white-hot pain returns as you’re met with the butt of the gun, slumping from the chair as chaos whirls around you, curled up on the floor and crawling desperately away from danger as someone screams, gargling as it sounds, probably on their own blood. 

You couldn’t look back, breathing panickedly as you hid behind the couch and huddled in on yourself, a gun going off unexpectedly as your ears ring, gasping as you hear the sound of a blade puncturing skin once, twice, before it clamers to the floor.

You wait a moment, although it feels like eternity, expecting the cold press of a gun against the back of your skull, but instead it was a hand and eventually another, the faint smell of a familiar cologne that brought you comfort and warmth.

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

Out?

You look up, his eyes wild but lacking any indicators of violence.

“It isn’t safe here.” He reiterates, “Can you walk?”

You nod weakly, feeling his hand wrap around your waist as he assists you in rising to your feet, still discombobulated and wobbly, he sticks by your side as you grab your things, silent as he eventually, alongside the crowd of presumably agents and police that pass by, invading your apartment, Javier is a guiding light of reassurance before you’re barricaded in the safety of his car.

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

You blink, feeling the sting of tears as you look up at Javier.

“Things are getting worse. It isn’t safe for you here, not anymore.”

“Here? What—what do you mean?”

–

Here meant Colombia.

Which is how you ended up in Texas two weeks later. Laredo to be specific. 

Javier had a place close to home. His family.

And you had talked extensively, it was the only thing that kept the panic from consuming you that night as he drove you to the embassy, tying up some loose ends before he drove you to the airport without any explanation until he was shoving the ticket into your hand.

His father had been waiting for you, as somber in expression as his son. 

They were so similar it made your heart swell, an unfamiliar feeling. 

Javier couldn’t explain what he was feeling for you and you could accept that, but he was careful and adamant in the idea that you would spend your time at his home, already setting you up with a similar job in town, a seamless transition that felt strange, but oddly easy to settle into.

“What if I just left?” You tease him one night, hearing his desk creek as he head slumps into his unoccupied hand, “Would that be easier for you?”

“No,” Javier says sternly, “I’m—this…I think I might be done. Feels like I’m fighting a battle that I’ll never win, feelings fucking pointless.”

It had been months now, curled up on his couch as you stared out the window and toward the empty road, wondering if the chill of fall was creeping in as the cool breeze hit your skin, “No more waitresses to help you out down there, huh?”

Javier snickers at that, though it was quiet.

“Stop that,” He chastises, “It’s not funny.”

You giggle in return, “I know, I know—just remember who’s keeping your bed warm every night, yeah? Oh—and your dad, he keeps asking when you’re gonna call.”

You hear him huff at that, clearing his throat awkwardly as he mumbles an apology to someone on the other end, the faint hum of the office around him feeding through the receiver. 

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.”

It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special.

A code, a message. A lifeline.

Javier was barely surviving amongst the cartel as tensions had pulled taut and drug trade seemed at an all-time high, nearly unstoppable anymore. 

It was beyond him, out of his control.

And for the first time in a long time, he has a reason, a want, to come home.

“Soon, chiquita. Soon.”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and it worried you immensely. 

“Don’t let it consume you, Javi. You’ve done enough.”

On the other end, his brow furrows. Disgruntled and annoyed at how right you were, echoing the similar sentiment his dad had told him a thousand times. 

He was done, he wanted out.

-

"El envío llega el domingo." / The shipment arrives on Sunday.

"¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?” / How are you doing? Are you having a good time?

"Cuidar a mi hijo." / Take care of my son.

[uchispeach]

Sycamore Tree (Ch. 6)

Dark! Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader

Warnings: DUB-CON, rough sex, virginity loss, corruption kink, slight dacryphilia, manhandling, possessive & manipulative behavior, violence, addiction & mentions of drug consume…

A/N: Shit’s about to go DOWN. Also, sorry for the slow updates. I was just in a bad mental state.

This fic will contain dark content: such as dub-con/ non-con and violence. You have been warned.

“Do you really have to leave?” John B’s voice sounded like a saddened plea. You felt a strange wave of shame warming up your body as you finished digging for your keys inside the tote bag’s mess. “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll double my shift tomorrow” Your joke came out as lighthearted, the opposite of your current uncomfortable state. “You better, cause’ Pope is unbearably insufferable when you aren’t here.”

The dark haired boy snored softly from the old living room’s couch, his singular crutch resting next to him.

Seeing the still present bandage covering his one knee made your heart sting a little, either way, you waved your blond friend goodbye and followed the path to the front yard.

The crack of the rusty door wasn’t loud enough to disturb the couple sitting at the porch. Neither did your footsteps create any sort of distraction between them, it was not until you walked down the set of stairs and wrapped your fingers around your car’s handle when you dared to interrupt. “So, you’ll cover me today at The Wreck, right?” Your voice was made purposefully deeper to dominate above the sound of passionate kissing between Kiara and her boyfriend.

Your sister separated her lips from the rebel boy’s, only to grimace at you in an exasperated face. “Guess I’ll fucking have to.” Her annoyance grew clearer on her features, probably regretting owing you a favor. “Thank you…” You said softly, smiling sincerely at her while hopping on the driver’s seat.

The way your fingers wrapped around the steering wheel was unusual, too much strength applied to a rather simple action. A weird feeling installed itself on your chest, polluting the excitement of seeing the blond once again.

Rafe had leaked its way into you, maybe deeper than you wished for. Sneaking around with the Kook didn’t feel quite right at all times, primarily knowing it had to be kept a secret from your friends and sister. But he wrapped you in his life with such intensity you didn’t know how to tell him ‘no’.

These past few days had been unimaginably perfect with the blond boy. Hours spent tanning under the sun while resting on his toned chest, soft kisses on the lips by the edge of his Olympic pool and restless midnight calls, ones less innocent than others…Still, you hesitated before stepping on Cameron's vast land.

The noise in your brain made it harder to recognize the tumultuous chaos waiting around the corner. A pained groan was the first thing you got to decipher from the mix of aggressive shouting. Your movements failed to be cautious as you rushed to the scene.

Rafe’s motorbike laying uncaringly on the ground took you by surprise, such an expensive and imposing machine being treated with such anger. Then, there was a thud; like a sack of rocks crashing against pavement. But the most brutal part of it all, was seeing your lover holding his abdomen in prominent pain.

Your gasp was enough to catch his attention, and you ran to his side with desperation when a trail of blood went down his mouth. “What is wrong with you?” You were acting foolishly, screaming and whining at the well-known plug and delinquent standing right in front of you, acting all offended at the sight of a hurt loved one.

Barry had his chest puffed out, big tacky sunglasses combining with his uncared for hair and dirty tank top. His fists were tensed on a harsh squeeze, proving the pent up violence - shown in the form of blood accumulated on his knuckles.

Your palm rested carefully on Rafe’s forearm while your knees clashed against his side. A simple inspection to his form told you they had been fighting for a prolonged amount of time. Still, a raw batch of burned flesh twitching near his wrist made your eyes widen in worry. “Go away. Now!” The tone of your voice wasn’t intimidating to the black haired boy at all, not when it sounded more like a sob than an actual demand.

The Cameron boy coughed, rumbling chest causing even more pain to his bruised ribs. “Get out or I’ll call-” Barry stepped closer, and you considered shielding the blond with your own body as you saw the crazy look on the Pogue’s face. “You better get me my money or I’ll put a hole between those lame ass eyebrows of yours. Fucking junkie!” He pointed a shaky finger, trembling in clear fury.

He stomped closer, moving his limbs with aggressiveness. “Don’t!” You screamed at the thug when he kneeled beside. “Meanwhile…” he mockingly moved away, effortlessly standing up along the motorbike. “…I’ll take this lady with me.” His sandals clutched the pedals with force as he started the engine.

“You know your deadline, country club. Don’t make me come for your cocaine filled ass!” The last threat was thrown as he rode away. Your shocked state wasn’t enough to pull you away from the responsibility presented at your sight. “Rafe, stay still.” Your plea went silent to Cameron's ears as he supported his palms and knees on the rocky path. “Hey, take it slow.” You reached out for his tensed arm, trying to comfort the storm going on inside him.

You were quick to jump when your contact was received with a hiss. A clear complaint to the abrasive touch on one of his multiple wounds. “I’m sorry.” You felt pathetically lost at the situation, not sure on how to act or what to say to avoid adding any stress to his already stressful situation.

He completely ignored you while his clumsy limbs tried their best to lift him up. “Fuck!” He barked at the third failed attempt to walk off the scene. “Here…” You whispered shyly while offering your frail shoulders as support for the burly boy.

His face grimaced, knowing he had no other choice but to accept your support. Your panting was almost suffocated by Rafe’s curses as you struggled to take him inside the mansion.

Out of breath, you guided him to the all-white couch. A piece of furniture that could only be chosen by Rose’s expensive taste, its functionality as small as your skill to position Rafe on a swift move. “Shit…just drop me.” He demanded in his deep voice, warm breath caressing your sensitive ear. “Okay, just…be careful”

Even in his vulnerable state, you couldn’t help but notice the veins popping up over his flexed muscles, their presence intensified by the trauma all his body had just went through. The blond closed his eyes while facing the ceiling, fed up attitude convincing you not to make any instigation.

You stood frozen in the spacious living room, feeling useless at the lack of ideas running through your brain as the blond wriggled in despair. Then you remembered:

“Rafe, calm down.” Your little self begged the relentless kid to know some peace. Younger Rafe continued making a big mess with all the kitchen drawers. “It was right here, where did that stupid hag put it?” He shook the wood cupboards as if they were mere boxes.

“Rafe” You stepped closer to the frenetic being, your poor friend trembling in frustration as he dug deeper into the endless silverware. “What?!” He reacted late and enraged, closing his fingers on a vile grip as his teary eyes finally faced you. “You’re bleeding.” Your small fingertips brushed against the open cut angrily bleeding on his forehead.

“Who cares?!…” His breathing grew more intense as his sobs became closer. “…my dad is going to kill me when he finds out.” You saw his bloodied knuckles tensing while his palms went up and down his face, roughly rubbing his childish features. “We will explain to him…” Your tiny neck went sore when being tilted to the side for so long, but you were desperate to see those two blue orbs.

“Explain what?…that I disobeyed him once again and broke his shitty bike.” He took you by surprise when his stronger grip terrorized your shoulders with careless movements. “I’m such an idiot.” A tear fell sourly down his smooth skin, entering between his pink lips and giving him a salty taste of his own fear.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” Carefully, you removed his strong hands from obstructing your freedom. “Restroom” His voice came out fragile, throat tired from all the shouting and crying.

And as you made your way to the cabinet over the toilet, you couldn’t help but take some steps back and show your chubby face from the room’s inside: “It’ll be all okay…” You tried cheering him on with a juvenile smile on your tender lips, still, Rafe looked quite frozen in his stressful state.

Not much has changed since then, he still handled vulnerability with excessive rage and aggressiveness. “I’ll get you some bandages and something to disinfect those wounds.” You spoke quietly, tip-toeing your way to the rest room’s drawer to find the dusty metallic box.

Your eyes tried to stay glued to the Red Cross decorating the white cover, even though the blond’s burning stare was clearly calling so deeply for your attention. Your conviction didn’t last long, and you were quick to meet his deeply focused orbs.

His stare moved with you, millimeter by millimeter, almost as he was scared you would dissolve into thin air and leave him all alone. You would never do that though, and that was proved when you kneeled betwen his legs to reach that red and twitching skin on his long arm.

You could swear his pupils polluted his gaze, making it darker as he saw you skillfully wiping the dirt particles from his exposed pain. “I’m sorry…” The liquid started dripping down your wrist as you squeezed the cotton a little too hard. It was rare for an apology to leave that snarky mouth you had grown to admire so much. “I’ll take care of it. Yeah…I’m a proactive type of person, I-I” He clearly struggled with putting the right words in the right sentence.

You simply looked up at him in empathy, sweet lashes moving slowly in the air as your soft features did your best at consoling him. “I know.” You really didn’t, but you knew better than to contradict him. And it seemed to work your way, because he stayed calm for the rest of your tending.

(…)

Helping the heavy young man climb the endless stairs to his room wasn’t an easy task, not when his rigid muscles buried against your delicate figure.

You were an expert at putting others before yourself, that’s why your comfort and peace had become the last of your priorities as soon as you saw the blond suffering. He looked quite calm by now, as peacefully as he allowed himself to be while laying on your naked thighs.

His strong and rough fingertips gripping your leg’s flesh with a securing force. While his other palm circled his way around your waist, making sure you wouldn’t move a single centimeter away from his warmth.

You didn’t know what possessed you to interrupt his therapeutic-like session, maybe it was his nose burying selfishly against your flesh, the forming redness around your hips or the careless squeezes he gave your stomach in hopes of calming his own demons down; but either way, you took the unjustified decision of altering him with an abrasive question: “Are you consuming again?”

Your naivety had limits. You had heard the rumours, the whispers, the jokes, you had seen the photos with the white lines in the background and the crazed look on his beautiful eyes in certain wild parties; he had himself given you a hint or two of his unhealthy habits. Still, you were dumb enough to believe he had stopped recurring to those self-destructive tendencies as soon as you moved by his side. You had thought the company you provided, alongside the words of encouragement and love were enough to pull him away from that evil source of entertainment. Perhaps the disappointment had clouded your mind.

A pained moan escaped your throat when his cold rings stung your exposed skin. He wasn’t joyful at all with your newfound curiosity. “You have no idea what it’s like.” His voice was monotone, almost like an automatic response being played on a haunted recorder.

“You cannot do this to yourself…it’s-“ You flinched at his sudden strength. Hard rock chest invading your personal space as his overpowering form stood imposingly. “I said you don’t have a fucking idea what it’s like!” Spit flew to your face, forcing you to squeeze your eyelids together in hopes of disappearing.

Your jaw was squished tightly by a set of calloused hands. “Listen to me!” The angle he took had his face looking scary, shadows sharpening his already intimidating features. “The pressure, the lack of respect, the loneliness…it’s too fucking much!” The angry vein reappeared on his front with the aggressive display.

You stood frozen for a moment, feeling nauseous at the distress in your lover’s voice. But something revolutionary happened deep inside, causing you to peel your eyes at him while wiggling in the forceful hold. “Hurting yourself won’t help!” Now, your hands were the ones surrounding his mandibule.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself…” Salty water started accumulating in his inferior eyelashes. His pink lips lightly wobbled, showing his deep rooted sadness. “Please, Rafe.” The smooth skin of your thumbs caressed his cheeks with so much empathy, it had him closing his teary eyes.

“Please…” you muttered from the depths of your heart. Your rosy lips received him with tenderness, stealing his words away as you moved your mouth against his in a quicker pace.

The Cameron boy was quick to react, affectionate tongue craving a taste of your own wet muscle. The kiss was consuming and passionate, showing a deep connection coming from both ends. You were receiving everything he had to give, almost as he had the power to discharge all his problems on you.

A trail of saliva kept you attached when he finally pushed away. A hungry spark was present in his deep stare, pushing you to the king size bed with a rough impulse.

The soft sheets contrasted the harsh palms who tugged brutishly at your top, desperate for the bare skin waiting under the thin fabric. The ripped bra didn’t cause any new sounds for you, you were practically used to his mean ways.

The teeth on your sensitive mounds were still startling for your mushy brain. He bit into your nipples as if they were made of candy. His expert licks and twists had you arching your back and gripping the blanket with an inhumane strength.

Rafe seemed to enjoy cupping your wet breasts with his huge hand, smirking at the perfection in which they covered the whole area. The massages were short but they still managed to provoke some sweet mewls from your part.

Shyly, you decided to peek at the suddenly arrogant blond, catching a glimpse of his predatory features as he started going down your belly, trying to reach a fairly unexplored place. Nervousness leaked through your pleasure as his expert digits unbuttoned your shorts. “I need to be inside of you.” He said with frenzy, swift moves ensuring your bottoms ended up on the bedroom’s floor.

“Rafe, wait.” Your whimpering took the seriousness away from your weak demand. The boy’s tongue wetted your underwear further by sucking right above your favorite spot. Light spasms were sent all over your spine as the wet patch on your cotton panties grew bigger with his relentless thirst. “I’m gonna’ stretch your pussy so good.” He groaned while sliding the small piece of clothing down your legs.

You always knew he was a big guy, but having him on top of you had your lungs feeling like they were about to give up. “You’re entirely mine…” Your heartbeat accelerated to an abnormal velocity as soon as the sound of his belt hitting the floor reached your ears. “…I’mma show you real’ soon.” Curiosity took the best from you as your eyes immediately searched for him.

His cock was already leaking pre cum from its huge head, the blond took advantage of it by rubbing the liquid up and down his own length. The veins on it glistened, making his member look all more intimidating.

The size of it had you growing nervous, its pink tip looking desperate to be let in. “I…” your instinct kicked in, forcing your nails to make contact with his toned pelvis. “Open those pretty legs for me.” The order was followed by a harsh tug on your neck, long digits keeping you still against a pillow.

Rafe desire was shown to be primal as the friction with your own sex had him grunting in pleasure. “Fuck, it’s perfect.” One of your legs had been pinned against your chest, letting you completely helpless at his attack.

Swallowing was hard to do when his excitement provoked his hand to wrap harsher around your throat, still, the scream that ripped from your larynx wasn’t completely choked. “Oh, shit!” His curses were raw, just as the intrusive member that had been pushed inside your tight walls.

At first his pace was slow, drawing languid wails from you. Then, he got cocky, too overwhelmed by your warm and soaked hole.

“It hurts.” You managed to express as your body was rocked up and down by Rafe’s beast-like thrusts. “Take it, fucking take it…all of it.” The man above you was possessed, possessed by the way your pussy sucked him in.

Big fat tears ran down your puffy cheeks, and even though they were a beautiful sight, the blond’s attention was captured by your unruling breasts - mounds of plump flesh jumping at the attack-.

The wealthy Kook’s stamina wasn’t something to play with, you had seen him playing sports, riding his motorbike and lifting heavy weights but you had never imagined he could be so brutal and mean when it came to sex, not when your experience had been nonexistent before him. In contrast, he seemed to be in his element, lifting your knee higher to pump harder onto that one spot he found to make you scream.

“Oh, fuck…I’m breaking you in half!” His lips stretched in mockery as he saw the red streaks of blood decorating his pulsing dick, proof of the innocence he had just ripped you from. “Rafe!” Your vocabulary was shortened to whining and moaning out his name, accompanied by short pleas of mercy.

Either way, mercy wasn’t in his vocabulary, not when his tip bruised against your cervix in such delirious ways. “Not one single man apart from me will ever get to touch you.” You were sure your neck was turning all types of purple as he applied more pressure. “You understand?” He did a particularly harsh trust, making you tremble with the promise of a nearby orgasm.

“Yes! I’m yours…I’m yours.” Rafe chuckled when your own hips crashed against his, desperate for a bigger friction. “That 's right…you’re my little slut.” The blond looked for your warmth, nearing his chest with yours to bury his nose in your clavicle. “Can you feel me?” The question was non verbally answer by the high pitched cry that escaped your throat as he pressed on your belly bulge -the protuberance caused by his monstrous length-. “I’m all up in your stomach.” His canines brushed harshly against your jaw, and you didn’t need to see his face to know he had a wolfish grin decorating it.

His name sounded like a prayer coming from your honeyed vocal cords. “That 's right. Come all over me.” And you did, his sentence releasing the knot that had been building up your belly for the longest time.

And as your climax washed all over your senses, Rafe continued to push your limits by grinding deeper against you, causing a deeply embarrassing wet noise. Your fluids received him with squelches. He rejoiced on the overstimulation coming from your tight sex, squeezing him in delicious spasms.

You became putty in his hands, not even worrying when his thrusts became slower and his breathing faster. Too thrilled by the lust and attentiveness in the wet kisses he gave your chest, and the romantic promises of possession he mumbled into your brain.

You were still riding your high when a prolonged grunt left from the depths of his throat, the sticky feeling of a foreign liquid filling you from the inside had you cringing. The sensation was warm and overwhelming, not like anything you had experienced before, alongside the soft drilling of his cock in your now cum-filled cunt.

“You’re not getting rid of me, ever.” He muttered against your stammering heart, choking you with calloused digits for the last time.

(…)

Rafe’s black truck shone under the moonlight, causing you to catch a glimpse of your reflection on the spotless paint. Your strapless white dress had a nice flowy skirt to it, well accompanied by your also white kitten heels.

The outfit was fully orchestrated by the blond, as he seemed to enjoy styling your whole look. He undressed you and dressed you like a life size doll, caressing every curve and dip with his skilled palms. He enjoyed sniffing your hair while carefully passing the comb between your silky strands and perfuming you with his own personal scent; it was all too personal and intimate.

Your hands were in front of you, both gripping your cute purse while waiting for your attractive date. “Let’s go, doll” You jumped at the sudden voice, only relaxed at the familiarity of it. “I’m more than ready…” You gave him a small smile, turning your head around to receive his gaze. He hummed in response, nearing his chest to your back while reaching out for your dress.

His digits slipped under your top, holding the fabric before gliding it up, causing your cleavage to stay well hidden. “Now, you’re ready.” His lips were shortly on yours before he helped you climb up the vehicle.

The leather seats of Rafe’s Range Rover felt like heaven, the soft lighting and his intoxicating cologne only making him more irresistible. You couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in that moment—effortlessly charming, like he owned everything around him. Rafe crossed his arms, taking his time before starting the engine. “What?” You asked in a funny tone, finding him cute as he smiled with one side of his face.

His half smirk grew bigger, and you couldn’t help but giggle a little. “Just tell me.” You patted him softly on the bicep, feeling playful. “Open the glove compartment.” He blinked at you.

A spark of excitement could be seen in your big eyes, growing bigger as you saw two white boxes shining brightly at you. “Can I?” Your politeness pulled you back from opening them. “Of course, pretty…they’re all yours.”

You squealed in happinesses, deciding to uncover the smaller one first; a gold open cuff bracelet was revealed to your sight, looking delicate and ethereal in its cushioned place.

Your fingers brushed against the smooth material, soon surprised by the small crevices on it; a combination of four perfectly symmetrical letters read: ‘Rafe’.

The Kook took the piece of jewelry from your hold, as well as your arm. He leaned over, kissing your wrist with delicacy before making you wear his gift. “Everyone should know…that you’re my girl.” Heat travelled fast to your face.

“It’s so beautiful.” Rafe seemed satisfied with your reaction, a cocky grin on his handsome face. “There’s more…” He signaled to the other box. “All right…no!” Your eyes focused on the big image showcased on the front: A brand new phone.

“No, Rafe! I-” His sigh made you go quiet. “Yours was all broken,” the device kept on your purse had a simple scratch, but it just seemed to be no longer useful to the blond. “Come on, it’s pink…I know you love pink.” The wink he sent your way had you growing even more flustered.

“Okay…” You prolonged the word, not fully convinced with his ways of spending but still grateful. “Thanks!” You jumped to his side on a cozy hug.

(…)

Each step you took made your legs feel heavier, you didn’t know if it was the heavy weight of Rafe’s shredded arm around you, or the physiological effect of the loud voices and rap music coming from Kelce’s house, either way, your hands started sweating when the multiple voices of drunk teenagers came to your ears.

The party was already in full blast when you both arrived, making your anxiety rise even more. And it didn’t help that everyone seemed to recognize your blond companion: “Yo, Rafe” you could hear from multiple guys, all with similar looks to the last mentioned -polo shirt, surfer shorts and an expensive watch on wrist-. Still, that didn’t destabilize you as much as the sour looks some girls sent your way or the creepy faces a couple of boys made when staring at your silhouette.

One thing was clear: being with the Cameron boy was signing a contract with unrequited attention. “Stay by my side, all right?” You awkwardly nodded, not too sure on what to do with yourself.

Rafe slightly drifted away from you, catching the attention of a random brunette. She seemed friendly enough around him, showcasing a flirty smile while he whispered in his ear: “Hey, if you guys got any cash. Downstairs, okay?” The girl agreed with a bite to her lower lip, scanning your boyfriend from head to toe before leaving the room.

The next target was the party’s owner, who approached the blond with a big smile on his face. “Yo, Rafe. Where you been at?” They were both unashamedly loud, doing a handshake before smirking at each other. The taller one didn’t lose his time, patting Kelce on the back while making his proposal: “I got some yayo. Spread the word.” The voice of a leader he had, because the dark haired boy was quick to run around the house looking for contendants.

Rafe looked you straight in the eye, ringed digits combing through his hair with slight stress. You nervously smiled at him, trying to downplay the bizarre situation. “C’mon” He signaled for you to come, and you did, allowing him to guide you by the waist.

(…)

You didn’t exactly remember how you ended up there, or how long it took for the couches surrounding you to fill up with energized Kooks, all you knew was that your current position wasn’t comfortable at all. Fancy glass table filled with rolled dollar bills, dusty credit cards and mountains of white powder.

The metallic smell of money made you feel even dizzier and it didn’t help that the blond was counting every single buck right next to you. His heirloom ring shining mockingly at you while your ass sat prettily on his lap.

You had complained when he forced you to throw your naked legs over his meaty thigh, feeling embarrassed at the nosy eyes pointing at your exposed figure. It didn’t feel any better when Rafe decided to occasionally pinch your hips or squeeze your ass with his whole palm.

His sudden touchiness could be blamed on the lighted blunt resting on someone’s hand. He had blown the smoke on your face before saying how much he liked having you all to himself, clearly being freed from all decency.

The rest had even laughed when an intended sexy bite on your lower lip ended up being too harsh and making you flinch.

Either way, Rafe had managed to pull some of your worries away with the sudden presence of weed in your system. Nevertheless, a new arrival had you connecting back with your five senses. “You know, 60 dollars isn’t enough for the amount of coke you’ve being doing tonight, but-” Heavy footsteps echoed through the spacious room, coming from a stomping Topper. “Top! Hey! Top” Effusive shouts left Rafe’s snarky lips, gaining the attention from the grumpy guy.

The shorter Kook was in a bad mood, seemingly aggravated as soon as his eyes found you. An annoyed look was all he showed you before completely focusing on your companion. “What’s up?” His answer was as nonchalant as his attitude. “Sit down, man!” The order was clear, leaving Top no other choice but to take a seat right next to you. “You want a bump?” An unknown blonde girl patted the Kook’s shoulder, hoping her seductive eyes would convince him of snorting a line.

You saw your boyfriend’s friend hesitate in the midst of the pressure coming from all the other participants, and for a second you thought of intervening. That was before he completely leaned over the sofa to consume the biggest line of coke you had ever seen in your entire life.

“Woo!” He stood up in frenzy, causing a deep chuckle from the blond under you. “Hey. Take it easy, man…This is your first rodeo.” Rafe commented to the coughing boy whose movements were nothing but coordinated. “Hell no, it ain’t!” He flexed his toned chest at the adrenaline, sitting right back down and rolling a new dollar bill with his trembling hands.

“Rafe, don’t you think-” Your brows furrowed together at Topper’s abruptness. A few recreational drugs in your lungs wouldn’t make you dumb enough to believe this was entirely right.

“Tch. Just focus on me, nobody else…” The Cameron boy said while gripping your chin with force, pulling your sight away from the chaos.

His slightly red eyes made him seem cuter, as well as his tensed jaw.

Even with his brother’s handsome face above yours, you couldn’t help but notice a familiar girl standing on the corner. Sarah had her arms crossed over her chest, and the look on her face was more shocked than angry.

.

.

.

[oceandelreysworld]

Hard times

Homophobic parents, vi comforts reader. Fluff(Angust to) a/u. Vi x reader.

You never thought you'd end up crying in the rain at Vi's doorsteps, but here you are. Kicked out of your house because your parents found out that you have a girlfriend...

You knocked at her door, not even 10 seconds later, she opened the door with wide eyes as you rushed into her arms.

"Hey hey hey, y/n what's wrong?" Vi asked while she rubbed your back, bringing you inside, closing the door. You started sobbing into her arms, and all she could do was stand there and wait for you to answer. As you picked your head up off her shoulder, she cupped your face as your eyes drifted off from her face. You couldn't look at her.

"They..they found out. They found out about everything. They found out about me, you, us. I'm so sorry. I really tried. And I know I shouldn't have just-" you rambled on so fast you didn't realize when she put her lips on yours. Your heart was racing, body tence, but Vi has always been here for you to come back to and to comfort you. Your body relaxes as her kiss lingers.

She slowly backs away from the kiss, resting her forehead on yours. Both of your eyes are closed.

"You don't ever have to apologize to me. Especially for being yourself. Okay?"

She wiped your tears away with her thumbs. You okay your eyes to find hers looking back at you.

"Okay...Vi I never...I never meant for you to get caught up in all of...this. Whatever this is. Their problems always reflect on me, which just falls back on you-"

"Honey, listen to me. I. Do. Not. Care. Fuck em. All that matters to me is you. I don't care what they think of me. I care about you and us."

She's soft with her voice, but you can tell she's being serious and stern. Vi means what she says. It comes from the deepest part of her heart.

You are her soul tie. Her string of balance. She's your twin flame. Your everything.

"Please understand when I say I love you. I love your mind, your body, your soul, even your damn stubbornness."

You both lightly laugh as you lean into her hands, placing your hand on top of hers.

"Vi is do, but I don't want to keep relying on you for everything. I'm helpless. I feel like I keep taking advantage of you. I fall back onto you when everything goes wrong."

You sob lightly, trying to catch your breath. Her eyebrows frowned, looking at you in the eyes.

"Oh my sweet girl...I'm here for that. That's what I'm here for, I'm here to go through these things with you. You're my girl. And I wouldn't change that for anything in the world."

She kisses your forehead, then you lean into her shoulder and she moves her hands down on your waist, rubbing her thumbs on your sides, as you move your arms around her neck, moving your body closer to hers.

"I love you." You say as your grip grows tighter around her.

"I love you more." There's a comforting moment of silence between you two before she speaks again."You can stay with me as long as you want to. I don't mind at all, okay? Don't ever think you're a burden on me." She always knows what you're thinking without speaking out loud. Vi knows just what to say to make you feel better.

"Okay. Thank you Vi. You always know what to say. "I know, baby. I know." She rubs up and down your back as you rest your body on hers.

"Hey baby?"

"Yeah?" You say as you picked your head up.

"Let's go lay down. How does that sound, hmm?" Vi hold your ever so gently, afraid if she hugs you to much you might break.

"Yeah, I would like that alot."

"Okay, but first let's get you changed into some different clothes."

"Okay...can I wear one of your shirts?"

Vi hums in approval, nodding her head. "Of course baby, whatever you want." She kisses your forehead.

___________________________________________

A/n: I hope you guys loved this plot as much as I did. I'm so glad I came up with this. Also, if anyone has parents like that, please reach out to me or someone for comfort. I know this is a very delicate subject. So if anyone needs to talk, I'm all open ears.

[tateypots]

Uncle Tommy's Mistake

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x f!reader, Dark!Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3k

A/N: Part 6 of Collared. Same as before, it’s dark so please heed the warnings and skip if it’s not for you.

Look. I don't know what happened here. This is not what I originally planned for this installment. I sat down to write and this is what came out. Less smut than usual (I'm sorry), also I think I may have gaslighted everyone into expecting blowjobs this chapter (and that is what I planned) but these 3 had their own ideas, I don't know what to tell you. Blowjobs for everyone in the next chapter, I promise.

Summary: Tommy's plans for you go awry.

Warnings: Non-Con, dark Joel, dark Tommy, kidnapping, daddy kink, uncle kink, restraints, oral (f!receiving), joint showering, masturbation (m), cum eating, gaslighting, manipulation, orgasm denial, discussion of blowjobs and training. Let me know if I missed any.

Part 5 Series Masterlist

You had to fight back tears as the lock of your collar snapped shut. Joel had insisted on a shower after your nap and now after the brief reprieve the feel of the metal against your neck felt suffocating. Normally you wouldn’t hold back, you’d let the tears flow but you were trying so hard not to ruin the goodwill you had built with him over the last few hours.

He dressed in silence while you sat on the bed hugging your knees watching him, unable to think of anything to say despite your earlier intimacy. When he finished buttoning his flannel he came over to you, tipping your head back with a finger under your chin and planting a kiss on your forehead. You hated how much that one simple action made you melt for him.

“You’ve been a real good girl f’me baby, Uncle Tommy will be in soon, I know you’ll be good for him too.”

Your heart sank at his words. A small piece of you had hoped that once you’d surrendered yourself to Joel that he’d claim you completely, that you wouldn’t have to repeat the same painful process with his brother. You should have known better.

He stared at you intently, waiting for a response so you just swallowed and give a jerky nod. With a smirk he leant in to give you another kiss, on the cheek this time, before making his way over to the door. As he shrugged on his coat you plucked up the courage to repeat your question from earlier, “Daddy, what will happen to me when you don’t want me anymore?”

He finished buttoning his coat before responding.

“You just keep being my good girl and you’ll never have to find out.”

______________________________________________________________

Tommy smirked as Joel exited the cabin and stalked over to him.

“I take it from the way I heard her screamin’ earlier that she was a good girl for you?” he asked as a weary Joel draped himself over the fence of the pig pen, a satisfied grin painting his face.

“She was a real good girl, fucked me within an inch of my life.”

Tommy’s cock twitched in his pants as he imagined you doing the same for him. He almost told Joel to take care of the rest of the chores on his own, aching to be inside you again, to feel you come around his cock. He’d missed it so fucking much.

“She’s a bit sore so might have to take it easy for a little while.”

Tommy’s face fell in disappointment before a grin spread across his face. “That mean I can start trainin’ her throat?”

“Go for it brother,” Joel huffed a laugh, “just go easy on her to start with. Been a big day, don’t want to ruin all our progress.”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll behave, promise.” Joel raised his eyebrows at him, disbelief written clear all over his face.

Tommy heaved an exasperated sigh. He knew Joel’s doubt was not entirely unfounded, Tommy had not been known for his restraint even before the outbreak. But he planned to take it nice and slow with your training. He wanted you to love sucking his cock, wanted you drooling from both ends for him. He knew that would be hard to achieve if he traumatised you on the first attempt.

“Look, scouts honour ok. I’m gona do this properly, you’ll see, by the time you get your first go she’ll be givin’ the best damn blow jobs you’ve ever had.”

“Interestin’. You seem awful cocky, care to make a bet?”

“What are the terms?”

“Winner gets her to themselves. Full 24 hours.”

“How do I know you’ll play fair? Could just say it wasn’t the best and take her for yourself for the day.”

“Tommy, if I’m able to think clearly enough to hide how much I’m enjoyin’ it, it won’t be the best blowjob of my life. If it is, she’ll suck all the deceitful thoughts right out through my cock, keep me honest.”

Tommy mulled it over for a second, “ok, you’re on. But I get to decide when she’s ready,” he agreed as they shook on it. “Now, tell me all about how it went down in there earlier, I need something to think about while I finish my jobs.”

Joel gave Tommy an edited highlight of your afternoon romp. He left out the part where you squirted on him. If Tommy put in enough effort he’d find out you could do it for himself but part of Joel hoped he would never make that discovery, that it would stay a little secret between the two of you. He didn’t think he had to worry about you spilling the beans to his brother. He’d had to explain to you what had happened when you’d awoken from your nap, still covered in your dried release. The sight of your confused face scrunched up in embarrassment made his possessiveness flare. He loved how innocent you were despite all he’d done to corrupt your body.

He did tell Tommy about how he’d eaten you out in the shower after he’d washed you, about how red and swollen your pussy was after keeping him inside for so long. He left out the part where once you’d come on his tongue he forced you to your knees and told you to hold your tongue out for him to frantically jerk his cum onto. Because although he’d promised Tommy that his cock would be the first in your mouth, he’d been very careful not to promise that Tommy’s cum would be the first you’d taste.

By the time Joel finished Tommy was rock hard, his dick pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans. Joel took pity on him, waving him away from his latest task of splitting logs for the fire.

“Go on inside, you’ve done most of the work today, s’only fair.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, she’s waitin’ on you anyway.”

Gleefully Tommy handed over the axe and scurried towards the cabin, already working on his belt. Once inside he wasted no time stripping off his coat boots and jeans. You were sat hugging your knees again as he stalked over to the bed, wearing only his flannel and boxers. He flopped down on the bed next to you, gently stroking your shin.

“Lay down next to me princess, c’mon,” he sighed, coaxing you onto you side so you were facing him. He gently brushed your hair out of your face before cupping your cheek in his big hand.

“I know todays been a lot princess but you’ve been such a good girl. Your Daddy told me that you and him had a chat and got some things cleared up. You feelin’ better about everythin’ now?”

“A little bit.”

“Been a hard few weeks for you I know princess. Been hard for me too, you know that?”

You wanted to laugh in his face, unsure what suffering he’d had to endure while still getting to use your body to get his rocks off. Usually several times a day. But your self-preservation instinct had kicked in strong and Joel’s thinly veiled threat from earlier was still ringing in your ears. They wanted a good girl and all out of other options at this point you had no choice but to be that for them. So instead you simply shook your head asked, “why?”

He pulled you in closer to him with his arm wrapped around your back so your head was nestled in the crook of his neck.

“Well because I couldn’t hold my princess like this, couldn’t cover her in smooches an’ tell her what a good girl she is, how proud I am of her. Couldn’t make her come, and I wanted to so, so bad.” He gently pushed you away from him and dipped his head to catch your eye.

“Will you let me make it up to you now princess?”

You wondered what he’d do if you said no. If he would skulk back outside and leave you be. Doubtful. Your poor pussy was aching from earlier but you knew it would only make things worse if you didn’t comply. So you nodded and rolled onto your back, spreading your legs wide for him.

“Oh princess, such a good girl.” He knelt between your knees and pouted as he looked down at your spread cunt. “Oh honey she’s all red and puffy.”

“I’m a bit sore,” you told him honestly.

“Yeah darlin’ I bet. But don’ worry I’m not gona fuck you.”

“You’re not?” you asked gently, genuinely confused as to what was happening.

“No princess, you’re hurtin’ and I wouldn’t be makin’ it up to you if I make it worse. Your Daddy told me he tried kissin’ it better earlier, did you like that?”

You honestly didn’t know how to answer that. When Joel had put his mouth on you down there you’d been slightly disgusted. You still were a little. But you had to admit that it had felt nice so you settled on an honest, “it made me come,” which Tommy took as a yes.

“Ok princess, you just lie back and enjoy yourself then, I’m gona make you feel so good.”

To your surprise he didn’t dive straight for your pussy, instead he leaned over you and latched his mouth over your left nipple, teasing the bud with his tongue until it hardened for him, while gently squeezing your other breast in his large hand. After everything you had been deprived of the last few weeks the soft touches felt incredible, you couldn’t stop the small moans that escaped as pangs of arousal radiated through you.

“Mmmmm such beautiful tits,” he murmured as he trailed kisses across your chest, making his way over to your other nipple. “Gona fuck these titties one day princess,” he told you. You had no idea what he meant by that but before the confusion could fully take hold he sucked the peak of your right nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing it ever so slightly. Your mind emptied and your hips bucked towards him, your clit throbbing and begging for friction, overriding the ache in your pussy.

He chuckled into your chest. “Yeah that’s it honey, feelin’ good now ain’t ya?” He chuckled again when he saw you nod your head. He detached himself from your breast and blazed a path of open mouthed kisses down over your belly and hips until he reached your mound. He inhaled deeply making you squirm in embarrassment underneath him. You felt so exposed with his face so close to your pussy but Tommy seemed completely oblivious to your discomfort.

“Mmmmmm you smell so fuckin’ good princess, bet you taste just as sweet,” he groaned as he gently spread your lips with his thumbs.

“Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he said, almost to himself before leaning forward and licking a thick stripe from your hole to your throbbing clit. Your moans reverberate around the room, hands fisting in the sheets as he repeated the action several times.

You cry out and your hips jolt upwards as he wraps his lips around your clit and gently sucks. You’re still sensitive from all the attention you received from Joel and as Tommy’s tongue starts circling and flicking your clit you feel the tension build within you. You don’t hold back the moans that fall from you, you’re lost in the sensations being lavished upon you. Just as you feel the pressure is about to boil over he pulls away, licking and kissing his way down your seam.

“NOOO!” you cry out as tears start to fall. You cannot do this again, the endless torture of denied rapture and you start to sob and chant “no, no, no.”

“Shhhh princess, it’s ok,” he tells your pussy, lightly teasing your entrance with his tongue, entranced by the look, smell and taste of you. “Don’t worry honey, I’ve got you, just need to enjoy you like this for a little bit longer.” With that he gently pushes his tongue inside of you, edging the hot muscle around your walls before withdrawing and doing it again and again.

You moan and choke through your sobs, distraught and desperate, too strung out to hear and comprehend his reassurances. Recognising he may have pushed you too far Tommy changes tack, working to get you off as quickly as he can, his tongue fucking into you with abandon as his thumb settles on your clit rubbing fast circles into the engorged bud.

Your hips grind into his face with a mind of their own, your body chasing its high independent of your mind which is still lost in a sea of panic and despair. He growls into your aching cunt as you rut against him, his cock throbbing and leaking in his boxers.

You come with a cry, your back arching off the bed as the waves wash over you. Tommy keeps tight hold of your hips, working you through your high with his tongue. As you come back to yourself you wriggle and squirm away from him, curling yourself into a tight ball and sobbing your heart out, more distressed than you’ve been since those first few days after they took you. Tommy tries to coax you into looking at him whilst babbling apologies.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?” Joel booms from the doorway, not bothering to take off his jacket or boots before storming over to the bed and scooping you into his arms. You’re shaking in his lap as your hands fist in his jacket and you bury your face into his chest, mewling a soft “Daddy,” through your tears.

“Did you hurt her?” he spits at Tommy, his fury evident on his face.

“No, of course not,” Tommy rushes to defend himself, “I edged her. I didn’t mean to, I just… she tasted so fucking good and I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t think.”

“Jesus Christ Tommy. After she’s been so good this is what you do to her?”

Tommy could kick himself for being so stupid. He should be balls deep in your mouth right now, not getting a telling off from his brother. He hadn’t thought about the impact these last few weeks would really have on you, too wrapped up in his own annoyance at not being able to feel you come around his cock. He needs to make this right. His dreams of you delighting in choking on his cock and riding him into oblivion are at stake.

And though he’d never admit it, looking at the way you cling to Joel he feels the first pangs of jealousy clawing at his chest. You were a shared resource. You weren’t supposed to favour one over the other. But through his own stupidity he’d driven you straight into his brothers waiting arms. Desperate to redeem himself, he starts grovelling, hoping that now you have calmed down somewhat he can salvage something from the wreckage.

“Princess please look at me, let me apologise properly,” he coos, crouching down so he’s level with you.

Joel coaxes your face out from his chest, “I think you should hear him out baby, I think he’s really sorry.”

You look at Joel for a moment before turning your head to Tommy without responding. Tommy heaves a relieved sigh before launching into his apology.

“I’m so, so, sorry princess. I wasn’t thinkin’ clearly. I was supposed to be making it up to you and I got selfish. I promise it won’t happen again, please forgive me.”

You look at him, bleary eyed and exhausted, chewing on your bottom lip. He looks and sounds sincere in his apology, regret and remorse splashed across his features. Something you had not expected. You also had to give him credit that once he had realised you were upset he had worked to correct it and give you the release you needed at that moment. You realised with surprise that you believed him. This wasn’t another manipulation, another way to punish you, it was a mistake made in the heat of the moment.

“I forgive you.” You ignored the voice in your head that told you it didn't matter either way.

Tommy sighed in relief, plopping himself down on the bed next to Joel, stretching out his arms.

“Come give me a cuddle princess.”

You look up at Joel, not really wanting to leave the comfortable seat of his lap but he leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead before tapping your thigh to get you to stand up and patting your backside in his brother’s direction. You go without a fight and Tommy pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you as Joel heads back outside.

As you get comfortable you think about Tommy’s seemingly genuine apology and the way Joel had rushed to you when he thought you were hurt. Perhaps you could be more than just their fuck toy. It seemed like there may be some genuine care in their actions. The thought sent a comforting warmth through your body as you relaxed into Tommy’s chest.

“I really am sorry princess, what can I do to make it up to you?”

“No more today, please Uncle Tommy!” you begged.

“No, no princess, that ain’t what I meant. No more of that today I promise. What can I do to show you how sorry I am?” he asked, choosing to ignore the way his cock twitched as you called him Uncle Tommy for the first time.

You thought about it for a minute before mumbling into his neck, “could you get me a book?”

“A book?”

“Yeah. It gets a bit boring waiting around for you to finish your chores.”

“Yeah princess I can get you a book,” he promises, the green eyed monster within him retreating to its cave as you snuggle into him, “I’ll get you a whole goddamn library.”

______________________________________________________________

I've added some people who showed an interest to the tag list, please let me know if you want to be removed.

@aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @oldloganslittleslut @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @axshadows @justajoelsreader @ahintofkiwistrawberry @guelyury @rosebuds-and-moonlight @koshkaj-blog @shivispunk @ivoryandflame @tammythr @magpiepills

[just-some-random-blogger]

HAPPY NEW YEAR IN MID JANUARY! I HOPE EVEYTHING HAS BEEN AMAZING WITH YOUUU AND WILL CONTINUE TO BE <3

i bet the wedding was amazing but also a relief to be over now <3 slayed. also you telling me you peaked, as if this was an exam HAHHAHAH. PEAK TO YOUR HEARTS CONTENT 😋 i dont believe in spoilers. you do you boo <3

What will it take for my poor girl to not have to beg for someone to love her and be considerate to her.

😬 death prolly

im gonna be honest with you, when i was writing the scene with her and caraxes, i wasnt trying to make it look like she wanted to kill herself... in all honesty, i dont think she was. i think she was mostly like 'if i cant have daemon, ill have caraxes' and then at some point she was like lmao this is a dragon 😆 i could get killed HAHAHAH

also HAHAA DAEMON ACCUSING HER OF INCEST HAHAHH NO CUZ WHY IS THAT SO FUNNY. tbf i think daemons just irrationally jealous of everyone. if she ever gets pregnant i dont think his first thought would be 'ah yes you fucked your twin brother' it would be like 'ah yes you fucked someone else because ive been pulling out' yknow

LAUGHING AT ARRYK IS REAL BUT ALSO FOULLLLLL. he loves herrr 🥺 dont be meannnnn

MEDIEVAL DNA TEST HAHAHAHAH. bestie i dont think daemon is smart enough to put one and one together

Oh my god Arryk stop tattling on my boy Caraxes like that. He was just trying to show some affection and protectiveness!!! It's not his fault that years of bonding with daemon also turned him a little dense and emotionally constipated like his master

;KAGHSFLHA'LSFHL'HASFHSA I LOVE HOW IVE HAD PEOPLE GO AFTER ARRYK FOR TATTLING HAHAHHAHHAHAHAH. HE WAS A WOUNDED PUPPP. also the insinuation caraxes is emotionally constipated because daemon is 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 YOURE SO BIG BRAINED FOR THAT!!!!!!!! I kinda hate that for caraxes though. i 10000000% will be diving into caraxes and yn relationshippp ))))):

The way I 100% believe that the foundation of the brothers' relationship is that daemon will ALWAYS do the exact opposite of viserys tells him so the fact that he told daemon to return to his lady wife, it will lead him to run as far away from her as possible (aka stepstones)

💯 no notes

[...] WHAT THEY COULDVE BEEN IF DAEMON WASNT SO DENSE AND THICK AND STUPID AND UGHHHHHHH

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED THIS FUCKER TO RECEIVE THERAPY FROM BRAAVOS OR WHATEVER BECAUSE HIS UNRESOLVED CHILDHOOD TRAUMA AND THE LACK OF PARENTAL LOVE HE RECEIVED IS GOING TO DESTROY THE MC AND I CANNOT STAND FOR IT I WILL DIE

and you're so right

FUCK YOU FUCK THE WHOLE TSRGARYEN DYNASTY YOU FILTHY LYING WHORE OF A DRAGON RIDER GO FUCK MYSARIA IN A WIG AND CALL OUT YOUR WIFES NAME AND TELL HER YOU WANT HER BECAUSE YOURE TOO SCARED TO SAY IT TO YOUR WIFE AND GO TO THE SHITTY STEPSTONES SURROUNDED BY NOTHING BUT UGLY LOOKING PIRATES FOR THREE WHOLE YEARS WITH SHITTY FOOD AND SHITTY WINE KJHGRRYVHBEBN LTLV

I LOVE THE FACT IT HURT COS IT HURT ME FR WHEN I WROTE THIS I WAS CRYING TOO HAHAHHHAH. IF I DONT CRY WRITING IT, I DONT THINK ITS ANGSTY ENOUGH BESTIE. YOU PROLLY CRIED COS OUR BRAINS ARE LIKE THIS 🤞🤞🤞

UGH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I LOVE HOW YOU GET ME AND MY PARALELLS AND MY ANGST AND UGHHHHHHHHHHHH KISS YOU SO MUCHHH

Tormented Spirit | 10

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN T_T blah blah canon stuff/high valyrian inaccurate blah. please please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon does not come home to you that night. When you awaken, you feel sick to your stomach. The thought of food repulsive though, so you spend the morning looking for your husband, until your body betrays you and feels sick because of not having eaten. You realize that your state is not borne simply from worrying about the prince, but probably also because of this supposed life you carried within you.

You try to deny it though, chalking it up to your mind playing tricks on you. After all, it's laughable that you suddenly experienced these symptoms just after all the fuss of learning you were with child.

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

You'd never been so happy to see the blood wyrm.

"Daemon?" you call out, searching for him.

Caraxes is busy feasting on meat and Arryk is busy watching him, body tense and senses on high alert.

The dragon keeper comes to you, shaking his head, "se dārilaros iksis daor kesīr dombo." The prince is not here anymore.

You understood nothing, save dārilaros, which you knew meant prince, and figure he's probably telling you he is not here, which you could gather from simple observation.

You turn to Caraxes and point, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.

The man brightens, as he understands, "Caraxes."

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head and hands.

You clench your jaw and turn to Caraxes, nodding your head in understanding.

The dragon keeper relaxes.

He mistakes you.

"Arryk," you turn to your ward, "can you come here please?"

Arryk's eyes linger on the dragon a moment before turning to you. You settle him in front of the dragon keeper, and while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

The dragon notices you immediately and watches you near. He lifts his head and sniffs the air, and only then do the two men realize what's happening.

"PRINCESS!" Arryk shouts, sprinting towards you before coming to an abrupt stop.

Enraged, Caraxes cranes his long neck, roaring at Arryk, making him topple back on his bum.

The dragon keeper screams a command and raises his hands.

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

The red creature screeches as snaps his teeth at the two men, causing his keeper to step back and Arryk to crawl back with him.

Caraxes then averts his attention, shaking his head as he circles around you, effectively blocking the two from seeing anything other than his massive, scaly body.

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Your face contorts at the bleating sound it makes. He lowers his head slightly inhaling and exhaling deeply. He makes another noise and you swear to yourself, the creature looks like he's fidgeting.

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

Caraxes screams loudly again when he spots two other dragon keepers come to you from the other side. He threatens them with a snap of his teeth.

"Daor!" they scream in unison. No.

Caraxes seethes and screeches, as if saying, 'do not tell me what to do'.

He circles around you again, and this time, he shoves you forward with his wing. You yelp as you are knocked to the ground with a thud. You manage to brace yourself, grazing your hands as you did, but your chest still hurts at the impact.

The keepers scream in horror because of this, fearing that you would soon be eaten.

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

You whine as you roll on your side. Caraxes growls as he bites your arm. The fear finally sets in as he does this, and his powerful maw pulls you up to sitting position.

The dragon keeper, who ran to retrieve you, shrieks out upon witnessing this.

You gasp when Caraxes roars back, and you squeal when his wing comes over you. The strangest thing occurs to you in that moment, and your heart finally begins to race— not because it sinks in how much danger you were in, but because, suddenly, you knew you were not.

You come to a stand, and with no regard for your safety, you reach out for the dragon's skin, somehow shocked by how warm and hard it is. "Caraxes."

He hears you, though you barely raised your voice. He is sensitive to the sound of his name. Caraxes moves back, pulling away enough to be able to coil his neck and look at you.

The dragon keepers, who were so on edge, altogether fall silent when they see you in the midst of the blood wrym.

Arryk nearly broke into a other sprint upon finally seeing you, but he manages to hold back and lowers his sword, unwilling to sheathe it.

Caraxes produces a sound you think is akin to a mewl, as much as a mewl a ten foot beast could make. You huff and feel your breath hitch. You close your eyes and reach out to him, ready to accept whichever fate awaits you, companionship or death.

You gasp, eyes instantly opening when you feel the wetness on your hands. Caraxes presses his snout to your palms, and you squeak, quickly pulling back at the heat of his huff.

He lifts his head and begins to pace around again. You are certain now that the beast was, in fact, restless.

"Paez ilagon!" you exclaim, raising your hands at him.

Caraxes huffs, debating if he should heed your command.

"Paez ilagon," slow down, you repeat as the dragon fully faces you.

You, and everyone else who witnesses it, are shocked that Caraxes listens. He quits his pacing and slowly comes to a halt, looming over you.

Your lips wobble, humbled by the idea such a fearsome creature would obey the commands of such a pathetic being. You begin to weep, as Caraxes lowers his head, sniffing you. Your hands dart out to him when he gets too close. You slightly topple when he nudges you with his snout. You feel the warmth of his breath seeping through your dress as he brushes against you. You can tell he is trying his best to be gentle, but even then he is too strong that you have to repel him. He makes the faintest of sounds.

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

Caraxes remains pressed against you a moment longer.

You sniffle and momentarily fantasize about the child growing within you. You lean into him in defeat, "you silly thing."

His throat emits a low rumble.

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

Caraxes slowly lowers his head until he is laid on the floor. You remain leaned on him for a moment, and then you pull away with a sigh. You look upon the dragon, thinking he is so much like his rider, and stroke his cheek one last time before pulling away.

You walk towards the dragon keeper you had blindsided and lower your head in shame, speaking the word you had learned for Daemon, "usōvegon." Apologies.

He stares at you for a moment, taking in your now messy hair and dirtied face, and replies with something you do not understand.

You nod at him without meeting his eyes then hurriedly walk off. Arryk is quick to follow after you, and his skidding makes Caraxes screech at him. He flinches at the sound, looking behind him warily. You do not.

When Arryk finally catches up to you, he takes your arm and calls out your name. He is alarmed by the red smeared down your philtrum and cheek.

"Forgive me," you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. You do not stop walking, "I- I was overcome... I did not think of anything but myself. I did not mean to cause anyone such immense distress."

"What were you trying to do?" Arryk quips, taking in your dirtied face. He did not know if it would be appropriate to wipe it with his cloak.

You shake your head, still unable to look at him.

"Princess," Arryk speaks like a plea, "did you know Caraxes would not hurt you?"

You gulp, quickening you pace.

Arryk huffs in frustration, calling out your name.

He forces you to stop by dashing forward, coming in front of you. You look up at him, eyes teary and mouth parted.

"I beg you," he clenches his fists, before succumbing to his urges. He grabs his cloak and wipes your face, brushing the dirt and blood as neatly as he can, "please tell me you did not knowingly put yourself in danger."

The tears running down your face help him clean you off. You honestly say, "I don't know if I should tell you."

Arryk is heart broken. He clenches his jaw tightly and releases his hold on you. He steps aside and you begin walking again.

You feel awful as you look at him. He is sullen as he walks beside you. You wipe your nose on your sleeve, "apologies, Arryk."

He shakes his head and opens his mouth. His jaw hangs for a moment, but then he closes his mouth, saying nothing.

You turn to your side when you hear your name called.

Alicent, who was making her way to the king's quarters, runs up you, eyes widening at the blood on your face. The red had spread as it mixed with your tears. She quickly pulls out her handkerchief, "your nose is bleeding!"

Your eyes widen, as you did not know this, but you quickly take her wrist and slowly pull away, "it is nothing."

"What happened to her, ser?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk is eager to tattle, "she was at the dragon pit and-"

"I fell," you cut him off, blocking your sister's gaze upon your ward, "I-"

"You fell in the dragon pit?!" she bristles further. Your feigning backfired. "What did Daemon do?!"

"The prince is nowhere to be seen," Arryk scoffs.

"I was- am looking for him!" you blurt

"Caraxes nearly attacked her," Arryk adds.

"Arryk!" you whip your head to him then back to your sister, "he did not!"

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Alicent calls your name as you call Arryk's.

Your sister takes your shoulders, eyes immediately watering, "did you want to get hurt, sister?"

Your jaw slacks, "I- I-"

"Does Daemon posses you to do such things?" your baby sister begins to cry.

You shake your head rapidly, "no! No. I swear to you, this has nothing to do with him."

"Then what?" Alicent asks with a broken voice.

You gasp for air and feel a shiver run down your spine. You cannot tell her the truth, so you explain instead, "my nose already bled yesterday, which is why it's bleeding now."

"What?!"

"I already fainted yesterday and fell quite hard, which is why my nose is bleeding again."

"Mother, please," Alicent whispers.

"Alicent, I swear to you, you need not-"

"How could you let this happen to her twice?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk lowers his head, "I have failed-"

"I snuck behind him," you blurt, "do not fault him for my impulsiveness."

Alicent's heart is crush as she watches you wipe your face.

"It is not Arryk's fault that my nose is bloody. It is neither Caraxes fault for shoving me. It is mine. My body is weak and I have spent all day looking for my husband, against the behest of my maester."

Alicent clenches her jaw. It is Daemon's fault.

"I will go to the maesters' ward and submit to whatever is prescribed to me," you place a hand on her shoulder. You sniffle, "do not speak to father of this."

"Make sure to go to the maester's then," you sister warns.

Dejected, you look away and walk off.

Alicent takes in a breath before grabbing her skirts, marching over to the king's quarters.

Viserys is in the middle of gluing his diorama of King's Landing when he hears a knock on the door, "come in."

Alicent enters, sighing deeply before pulling a smile.

"Alicent," his blank expression slightly lightens.

She curtsies, "your highness," and walks over to him. She turns her attention to whatever it was the king was building.

Viserys shows raises a block, "a new tower."

Alicent smiles softly, "pretty."

The king raises a brow upon noticing the stiffness to her demeanor, "is everything alright?"

Alicent betrays herself on purpose by nodding her head too quickly.

Viserys puts the tower down. He reaches for her arm, "what's wrong, my girl."

She takes a sharp breath, "my sister—"

He furrows his brows.

"—she... she has a bloody nose from falling."

"She fell?"

"Twice," Alicent fidgets with her hands, honest agitation for her sister taking over her, "because she's been looking for Daemon."

His reaction to the name is instant. Viserys' jaw clenches and his fists ball in anger, "Daemon."

Daemon struts down the great hall, making his way towards the Iron Throne. The night was now deep and the few candles lit in the room only increased the tension between the brothers.

The prince looks up at the king. The king and two kingsguard stationed on either side of the throne look down at him. Viserys clenches his sword, "and where have you been?"

Daemon scoffs, aimlessly looking around, "have you summoned me to nag?" He clasps his hand in front of him, leaning on one foot, "I already have a wife for that."

His brother laughs, hard. It echoes across the hall, but it is by no means genuine, "I would not have ever known with all the time you waste in brothels."

Daemon grinds his teeth, face contorting, "so you've summoned me to reb-"

"Did you say it?" Viserys snaps.

"... what?"

"An heir for a day— did you say it?!"

"..."

The king's nostrils flare.

"... we must all mourn in our own way, your grace."

Viserys sighs, lowering his head in defeat for a second, then erupts, "MY FAMILY HAS BEEN DESTROYED!" He seethes, "and instead of staying at mine, or Rhaenyra's side you celebrate your own rise with your whores and your lickspittles!

"And wife," he scoffs, "your poor wife... do you even know that your mount has injured her?"

Daemon stiffens.

"She came to the pit looking for you and the beast caused her a bloody nose."

"What?"

"You chose her Daemon. And in choosing her you prove time and time again, I bend to your desires only to be repaid with disrespect. You have no other allies in court but me, yet-"

"You do nothing but distance me from court! From the City Watch, even with- with her... you do nothing but heed the whispers of that leaching old man."

"Leaching old man?" Viserys raises his brows.

Daemon nearly vibrates in anger.

"You mean Otto Hightower?" the king's lips curl, "the man who begged me—"

He laughs dryly.

"—over and back to spare her sickly daughter from enduring a lifetime with a the likes of you!"

Daemon is wounded, "I am your brother."

"Then why do you cut me so deep?"

"I see that man for what he is."

Viserys huffs, "a loyal and faithful-"

"A cunt!"

The king leans back. His kingsguard are ready to draw their steel. Viserys realizes there is no getting through to him. He looks away then turns back to glare at him, "jiōragon hen ñuha laehurlion." Get out of my face.

"Lēkia," Daemon steps forward, muttering the word that meant older brother.

The kingsguards step forward, showing a glimmer of their swords as a warning.

"I hear it is the first time your Hightower bride has been separated from her twin. It would do her health good to visit Oldtown."

He clenches his fists tightly.

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

Daemon does not wait to be apprehended and storms out of the room. He is bristling as he gets out.

"Mazeman bona ziry gōntan daor jikagon sȳrī." I take that it did not go well.

Daemon turns and sees Corlys standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him.

"I wanted to speak to you of something important earlier today. I hope your mood is not too bad foul-"

"Ȳdragon se sagon gaomagon lēda bisa jenigon," Daemon snaps. Speak and be done with this bother.

Corlys straightens his back and motions with hand, "it is regarding the Stepstones, your grace."

Daemon furrows his brows, vaguely recalling this topic being broached during one of the council meetings. The two of them discuss this as they walk down the hall. By the time the prince reaches your shared quarters, he's agreed to help the Seasnake with his concern.

You leap from your bed when the door opens. Daemon freezes as you scurry to the door, hastily running to him without even putting on your slippers. You stand before him barefoot, heaving as you clutch your nightgown. He stares at you, hands clenching into fists.

"Usōvegon," your lips tremble.

Daemon's face falls a fraction as he watches your eyes water.

"Usōvegon," apologies, you repeat. "Please..." you slowly reach for him.

He watches your palms press against his chest. He makes no attempt to move.

"Do not be cross with me any longer."

A deep breath flares through his nostrils. He realizes then that he is exhausted and shuts his eyes. He leans his forehead on yours and takes your wrists. He huffs at your feel, "you are freezing."

"I-"

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

You don't know what he says, so you make sure to tell him what wants to hear— what you think he wants to hear, "I will not defy you ever again."

He does not care about that. He pulls back and looks at you. He wipes the tears off your face and a line forms between his brows, "Caraxes attacked you?"

One of your hands instinctively comes to your philtrum, "no. I-" you shake your head, "I fell."

You don't know why you think Daemon would be satisfied with your answer. He presses, "tell me exactly what happened."

You huff, "I was... yesterday, I fainted—"

"Fainted?"

"—then I fell."

He shakes his head, "this happened in the dragon pit?"

"... no. When... when I was chasing after you."

Daemon brushes your hair back.

You cannot hold his gaze, "I went to the pit, hoping you'd be there and-" you realize you cannot tell him what happened. You cannot tell him you walked to his mount and his mount did not attack you because he could smell part of him in you. You huff, "-and Caraxes got close and knocked me over."

"Did he try to bite you?"

You debate for a second before shaking your head.

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

Your throat tightens. Goosebumps form on your arm when Daemon traces your nose with his thumb.

"And your nose bled?"

You do not want to answer.

He sighs, "I will reintroduce you to him, so that he does not act so-"

"It's not his fault!" you blurt, "not really."

He knits his brows.

"When I fainted and fell, my nose already bled, so..." you motion with a finger, "Caraxes simply... set off a previous injury."

He says absolutely nothing.

"My body is weak," you mumble, hoping to explain it better, "I've had worse injuries."

"Do you tell me this so that I will not bring you to Caraxes?"

"No," you shake your head, "no. Just... so you do not..." worry, you almost say, but then the idea feels presumptuous.

"Not fault my beast for acting like one?" Daemon asks, as he heads for his cabinet.

You look at him for a moment then follow. You decide to hum and proceed to help him get undressed.

Your husband examines your face. The moonlight mixed with candlelight makes your skin glow. He is loathe to think your tears add to it, but it's unfortunately true. Your being glistens because of all these things. He interrupts your unbuttoning by taking your cheeks and slowly wiping off the tears on your lashes.

You blink at him, "better?"

"Gevie," he says, brushing your throat with his thumbs.

You nod, though you still did not know what that meant. You push his doublet past his shoulders and once his dress shirt remained, he is quick to remove his shoes as you bring his clothes to the hamper. When you walk back to him, he is picking out clothes from his closet. You are deeply confused when he hands you a stack of shirts.

Daemon moves to his other cabinet and says, "pack those in my trunk for me."

You freeze and blink rapidly, "I-" you turn to his truck, which was atop his closet. Your heart races, "I cannot reach it."

Daemon pulls out more clothing before looking at you. You watch him closely as he stands and reaches for the trunk. He places it on the floor and opens it.

You slowly kneel on the floor beside it, doing your best to keep calm in this moment. Are you leaving? You nearly ask him, but you don't because he clearly is. You begin to fold his clothes, but you cannot hold your peace, "where are you going?"

Daemon stuffs his clothes into his trunk and sighs before crouching down to fix them, "the Stepstones."

"W-what?"

"The Seasnake needs help with the Crabfeeder, so I will help him."

"Why?" you blurt all too quickly.

Daemon straightens up. He looks down at you as you shake your head and quickly finish folding his clothes.

"Why must it be you?"

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

He is taken aback by how you chuck his clothes into his trunk rather aggressively. His face begins to harden with anger but then you make a noise and lean into the trunk, heaving deeply in and out.

"Wha-"

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

Whatever choler was building in him quickly dissipates and morphs into... fear, or rather, worry. He calls out your name, reaching for your head.

"You cannot leave me," you shudder, gripping his calves for dear life. You look up at him, face wholly distraught but not teary. You find yourself too tired to shed a tear.

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

Your hands remain gripping the sides of his shirt as you stare at him. You take in his stoic expression as you gather the nerve to repeat, "you cannot leave m-"

"And why can't I?" he quips as his insecurity gets ahead of himself.

You hear it in his voice. You hear how he thinks you're challenging him. You shake your head and correct yourself, "n-no," you shudder, "no, Daemon, no. I- I want you to stay." You brush your palms up his chest.

He can feel the tremble of your hands as they come to his cheeks. He knit his brows at your confession. He has to ask, "why?"

You could tell him many reasons. The one possibly most relevant to him is that of the fact you were carrying his unborn child. A shiver runs down your spine; you are not foolish enough to believe this would be something that would make him want to stay. You could always tell him you needed him, your health needed him, because it was true. As much as he clawed your fragile heart, he made it soar in ways you've never experienced. But there was a rather simpler truth to that need, though attached to a very complicated feeling, "because I love you."

Daemon's expression falls. Though his lips barely part, you can tell that he is gobsmacked. You release a shaky breath as you swipe his chin and jaw with the pads of your thumbs.

Should he be so shocked? Love in a marriage is not so uncommon, even if it is arranged, even if it felt opposite in the beginning.

So, what?

What was your love to him? It would wax and wane like his brother's— and his brother, his fucking brother. He could not grant him the satisfaction. Daemon takes you by the wrists and slowly pries you off, "you are mistaken."

You take a deep breath at his words. You are perfectly still.

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

Daemon was not one to lie, convinced such an act was beneath him, reserved for incapable, lesser men; half-wits, and yellow-bellies. The only reason he could say this was because the cup in which you held your love for him was far deeper than the one he had for you, and he was aware of it. He loved himself far more than he could ever bring himself to love anyone; he would always be first.

Still, he was not an incapable, lesser man, nor was he a half-witted yellow-belly. He knew of the cup he held, which oft overflowed. The mere thought of you triggered a smell in the air, and at the mention of your name, his bones ignited. You were his, and you held his regard, his affection, his lust, and, yes, his love.

All of this, he was about to explain, but then your reaction blind-sided him.

You nod, "I know."

How terrible it was to hear it. He knew his words where callous. He knew wuch an admission is a gash from a jagged blade— to not be loved by who you loved. Yet your casual resignation to this information stung, nay, scorched his heart.

Is it cold? Is his love so dry you cannot even feel it?

His grip on you falters.

You bring your hands to his shoulders. You rub his bicep and smile softly in reassurance, "I do not mind."

"What?"

Your smile widens a fraction, "I know you enjoy the... delicateness of my body, both intimately and-" you motion to yourself, "-regarding my affliction."

He knits his brows.

"It is wholly contrary to yours, and it is mirthful to you," you nod again, "I understand."

"Do you?" he raises his furrowed brows.

You slowly loosen your hold on him. You pull away to fidget with your fingers, "do I not?"

"No," he scoffs under his breath, chest tightening far too much he has to move past you, "I don't think you do."

You are quick to grab him but it slips, "then make me understand."

Daemon stops in his tracks, turning back to you as his breathing picks up.

Your own does the same, but your gasps get shorter and shorter, so much so, you feel yourself get lightheaded. Your husband has to grab you to keep you upright, but you want to show him you have the will to overcome this, that you aren't dead weight, so push him away and mutter, "I- I can do it, Daemon."

He misinterprets you. You scorch him again. He squeezes your arms, "you don't want my help now?"

"No," you say as try to catch your breath, "I- I just-" you cannot continue.

Daemon has to sit you down to help calm you down. He tried to keep you upright, but then he realizes you were consciously trying to lean into his chest, so he lets you. You press your cheek against his warm muscles and sigh at the beat of his heart. You wrap your arms around him, "I want this."

He stares at your brown hair for a moment.

"I want all of this," you sigh, "which is why I want to be what you want me to be."

He finally lets himself embrace you, but just then, you pull away to look at him.

"I can do it," you nod as you take a final deep breath, "I can be a dutiful wife— I will be a dutiful wife. I will not defy you. I will do as you please. I will not expect more than I ought."

"You cannot do everything for me," Daemon says with slight contempt, a line between his brows.

"I-" you shake your head, "... I know," you shake your head faster, taking his hands, "but can I make you stay?"

He looks at how you hold him. He feels sick.

"What can I do to ma-"

"You do not understand," he pulls his hand away, "my brother wants me to leave. He is sick of me and prays for my riddance."

You watch as Daemon stands and paces around.

"He told me to bring you to your twin in Oldtown, and I would sooner eat Caraxes' shit than be tossed aside to the fucking Reach."

You shake your head, "why does he want you to leave?"

"He is weepy over the drunken words I spoke."

"Well, what did you-"

"Does it matter?!" he snaps, raising his hands, "I must leave!"

He is clearly upset. You nod your head and come to a stand, "then I will speak to the k-"

"No!" he shouts, "I will not have my wife act on my behalf, as though I rolled my belly."

"You are not rolling your belly, I am."

"You think there is a fucking difference?!" he quips, marching in front of you, "no! I am to leave in the dawn, so pack my fucking things, woman!"

You grit your teeth in an attempt to steel yourself away. It does not prevent the tears from running down your cheeks.

Daemon's nostrils flare as you go back to his trunk and sort out his clothes. He hears your soft whimpers and slowly begins to deflate. He wipes his face, slowly turning to you. He watches tears drop onto his garbs, "have you nothing to say?"

You sniffle and shake your head rapidly.

"No?!" his expression pinches.

You stand and grab the rest of this clothes. You sniffle with difficulty then sigh deeply. Your voice is shaky, "I want only to please you."

Daemon chuckles dryly, aimlessly looking around, "you think this pleases me?"

"Then tell me what will!" you whip your head around, clutching his clothes tightly in your arms, "I implore you." You step forward and haphazardly drop everything to his trunk, "I cannot please you if you refuse to tell me what you want."

"I want to go to the fucking Stepstones!" he points to nowhere.

You are shattered. How terrible of him to make it so painfully clear that what he wants does not even involve you. He does not want you, or even if he did, you cannot be enough. You lower your gaze.

"I want you to beg me to stay."

You look up at him. You chuckle dryly under your breath when you realize he's being serious. Your sorrow is not enough, it seems, now he wants even your shame.

Daemon tenses when you get on your knees.

You grip the fabric of his trousers as tightly as possible in an attempt to steel yourself, but it does not prevent your tears from falling. You shudder, "please."

"..."

"Stay. I beg you."

Your prince gazes upon your bitterness. He brushes your cheek and feels the coldness of your tears. He sighs because this does not affect him the way he had hoped.

It is not enough.

Dawn breaks, and Caraxes is restless. Daemon's things were being secured on his dragon, but that is not why so many dragon keepers had to keep him in check.

There, by the entrance, you stood with your hands clasped together and your head hung low. Both your wards behind you, eyeing your prince, who was doing his best to calm his ride as the last of his things were readied. Daemon did not know Caraxes was acting this way because of your distress, but the keepers slowly began to realize this was the case.

One of the keepers call out, "ñuha dārilaros, aōha ābrazȳrys." My prince, your wife.

"Rȳbagon, Caraxes!" Daemon snaps at his dragon to listen. Caraxes shakes his head and the prince spares the dragon keeper a glance, "skoros hen zirȳla?" What of her?

"Aōha zaldrīzes kostagon yknagon zirȳla boter." Your dragon can smell her suffering.

The prince turns to you, back to Caraxes, "iksis ziry zirȳla, Caraxes?" Is it her, Caraxes.

You lift your gaze when you hear Daemon call for you. He beckons you over and before you can move, Arryk grabs your arm and whispers, "I do not think this wise."

You slightly turn to him, "he will not harm me. You saw how Caraxes acted yesterday."

"It is not the dragon I worry about."

You look at the man, seeing how his jaw is clenched. You place a hand on his shoulder plate before walking towards your husband.

Rather immediately, there is a shift in Caraxes's demeanor. He huffs and screeches, neck coiling so his head could come near you. Daemon barks out multiple commands and his mount finally obeys.

The prince knits his brows then turns to you, reaching out a hand. You take it and find yourself pulled into your husband's arms. Your skin pricks with goosebumps when he whispers in your ear, "he wants you."

You sigh and close your eyes, resigning yourself to Daemon. He links his fingers into yours and places it atop his dragon's snout.

Caraxes sighs and slightly leans in.

Daemon is astounded by this, "I did not know he could possibly care for someone more than his rider."

You slowly open your eyes and look at the creatures ruby scales. "He does not," you mutter, rubbing one hand on your belly.

He does not hear this. When he turns you around, he catches you rubbing your stomach. He sighs and takes your hand, "do not weep so bitterly."

You cannot do anything but the opposite. Tears stream down your cheeks, "do not be so cruel then."

Daemon watches how your lips wobble. A line forms between his brows, "do not make this harder than it should."

You pull away from him and lower your gaze, "then just leave me now, and spare me the slow torture."

He tenses at your words. His expression hardens, "I did not ask you to see me off."

"Shall I leave then?" you snap, eyes red as you look back at him.

"Yes!"

You grab your skirt and walk towards the twins.

Daemon is stunned. He turns around and watches as you storm off. He calls your name, once, twice, and then he is sobered by the scream of Caraxes. You do not even stop by the entrance anymore, and walk past your kingsguards, who are quick to follow after you.

Here you were doing his bidding, following his wishes, yet there was no satisfaction. All there was... was less of you, less of your strength, your light, your fire.

Daemon turns to Caraxes, who was restless again. He pushes past the dragon keepers and saddles up. He orders Caraxes to start walking, so he does. The blood wrym begins to crawl towards you and the prince has to reel him back, barking out orders of obedience far too loudly.

Caraxes gives a loud screech before following the order. He huffs so deeply that the wind it produces makes you topple.

Your knights are quick to keep you upright, and though you so badly want to turn around, you remind yourself that your husband has done nothing but all he wants since you've wed. If he wanted you to stay, he would have told you.

You wouldn't know then that Daemon made Caraxes stop in his tracks. You wouldn't know that as he watched you walk off, he was mumbling under his breath that you turn around. You just kept walking yet he still waited for you to turn back, even after your figure had disappeared.

He would also never know that you headed down to the docks near the Keep, just to watch Caraxes fly away one last time. He would never know how your skin pricked with gooseflesh at the sight of the red winged beast soaring above. He would never know how hard it became for you to breathe.

"Gods, please," you mumble as your eyes endlessly watered, "swiftly return him to me."

Arryk and Erryk, stood on either side of you, glared at the sky as they heard your broken voice. They were on high alert as the docks were busy at this hour, and yet, it was necessary to convey their contempt, even if the person it was meant for could not see.

"Give me back my husband," you look at your reflection in the water, "or take me to my mother."

Before your words even register to either of the twins, you've already jumped into the water. Erryk nearly jumps in with you before realizing his armor would surely make him sink. "PRINCESS!" he screams as he undoes his armor.

"THE PRINCESS!" Arryk screams to the fisherman, "SHE'S FALLEN INTO THE WATER!"

The commotion is great. It is loud and frantic, yet as your body plunges and slowly begins to float, you care little. You feel someone fish you out of the water by the arm, and you want nothing more than to break free and swim towards your demise. But then, you hear your wards calling out your name, and you realize you cannot.

You say nothing once you are on land.

Both Cargylls has a hand on your arm, and each of them are worriedly questioning you, "are you alrigh- what happe- what were you thinki- are you faint- my princess-"

"I need to see him," you say.

Arryk and Erryk freeze. The look at each other, not knowing what to say. Arryk offers, "my princess. I fear you cannot see Dae-"

"Not him," you look between them as you gather your skirts. It is arduous, as it is soaking wet.

Otto was on his way back from the scrolls room when hears the shout from across the hall. He tenses like a rock at the recognition of his daughter's voice.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until you saw him. Your knees immediately buckle and you fall to the floor as you call out, "papa!"

The Lord Hand dashes to you, dropping the scrolls he had along the way. He gets on his knees and picks you up. He is aghast by your dripping state, and his anger is soon turned on your incompetent guards, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GIRL?"

"Papa," you mutter once you are in his arms.

Otto cradles you, looking down at your sorry form. A deep line is between his brows.

"He left me," you whisper, tears wetting your already wet cheeks.

Daemon. Lord Hightower clenches his jaw. It's always fucking him. "Come, my girl," he mutters, trying to bring you to your feet, "let's get you-"

Your voice is soft, yet it still cuts him off, "you must not leave me."

Otto is frozen. Arryk and Erryk are frozen too.

"If you leave me too, I do not think I will survive."

[luxcuriousao3]

Part 2 of Alpha!ghost?? 🥺🥺

Please?

-🍒Anon

I've been sitting on this because I've been asking myself, "Will I write a full part two?" But the answer is probably not 😅 BUT I have part of a second chapter written, and I figure I can share a little bit of it. Think of it as an alternative ending I guess? It's not... happy, per say, but it does make Fevered Mistakes SIGNIFICANTLY less angsty lol. I guess you could call it a hopeful/open ending. And hey, I suppose if people want to see the other bits I've written for chapter two, I'll publish them, I just wouldn't call it canon.

Also I've never had emoji anons before, but I will happily accept you as 🍒 anon! I love cherries.

warnings: a/b/o, mentions of past rape, vageuly suicidal thoughts

When Simon woke up, he was alone.

He was cuffed to a hospital bed, and both his team and the omega were gone. Simon’s heart lurched in his chest. His omega. He’d claimed her. He’d raped her. He’d killed her.

Simon was not a good man. He hadn't been a good man in a long time. He’d done horrible, horrible things. Some he regretted, many he didn’t. He bore them all and kept going. But this…

He didn’t think he could live with this.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Johnny entered, clutching a cup of coffee. He looked haggard—face unshaved, hair unwashed, clothes rumpled and stained. There were heavy bags beneath dull blue eyes, but when he saw that Simon was awake, he perked up, rushing over.

“Thank fuck yer awake,” he said, slumping into the chair next to Simon’s bed and grasping his hand tightly. “Cannae take anymore o’ this waitin’ ‘round.”

“They gonna discharge me?” Simon asked, looking away. Looking at his hands, the ones that had killed that poor girl. My omega. He closed his eyes, unable to stand the sight of them.

“By the end of the day, m’guessin,” Johnny answered, and Simon let out a deep breath. He knew he deserved it, but he was surprised the military was moving so quickly. Usually this kind of thing took months of wading through red tape and bureaucratic bullshit. “Price is gettin’ the paperwork taegether now.”

Simon felt like he’d been punched in the gut. His own Captain...

“He recommend me for a dishonorable?”

“Wha—” Johnny started, brows furrowed in confusion before realization donned on him and his eyes widened. “I meant from the feckin’ hospital, ye numpty!”

“But— the omega,” Simon replied hoarsley, stumbling over his words in a way that was entirely uncharacteristic for him. He blamed it on the sucking, pulsating void in his chest, the guilt and the self hatred and the desire to take a long fucking walk off a short fucking pier and let the ocean claim him and tear him apart. Just like he’d done to her.

“Aye,” Johnny said, face growing solemn, his scent—eucalyptus, chocolate, and a clean, cool aftershave, a combination that shouldn’t have gone well together but was the most delicious thing Simon had ever smelled—grew bitter with sadness. “The omega... she’s alive, Si. In rough shape, but the docs think she’s gonna make it.”

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong “Thanos” - Touches.

Warning : reader smokes, drug use

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “thanos with a reader who's love language is physical touch??? Like, he always prefers to at least touch their fingers together sometimes, whether for self-comfort (maybe during the game) or just to show his affection.” - anon

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : bold is in English // saw in some headcanons that he puts cologne to hide that he doesn’t shower. I prefer to think that if he smells, it’s because he has shit ass tastes in perfumes/colognes lol.

He knew early on you were a touchy guy. Even when you were just friends, you were always touching him or other people in some ways.

It never bothered him because he likes touching as well.

While you put a hand on his shoulder as you speak to someone else, his hand is on your back, between your shoulder blades, rhythmically tapping.

Or when you tried to show your inexistant rap skills.

His hand in your hair, keeping from turning away as your head moves up and down slightly while you try to rap. Focused on finding your next words.

He laughs his ass off at you, so much he nearly coughs up a lung, holding on to you as you’re now trying to ignore him, pushing him away.

“Why are you laughing at me ? You asked me to show you, I’m only delivering.”

He has trouble responding, laughing too much it ends up making you smile.

“I never said I was a rapper.” You sighed walking away, crossing your arms. “It’s your job dude.”

“Wa- wait wait wait !” He goes after you, still laughing, grabbing your shoulders to make you face him. “Do it again, pl-ease ! My boy, come on !”

“No way.” You laughed pushing him away.

“Do you know how to beatbox then ?”

“Do I look like I know how to ?” You placed your hands on his shoulders, suddenly serious. “Bro, seriously, stop speaking nonsense. You’re worrying me.”

He cackled at your response, holding your arms.

“I’ll teach you.” He winked.

“Oh my god, you will ?! Really ?” You said, shaking him, squealing, faking excitement, before walking away again. “Fuck off dude.” You raised your middle finger at him.

“Whatever.” He chuckled, following you. “My offer will forever stand.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows, expecting you to change your mind.

You hummed in response, rolling your eyes.

There’s also moments when you’ll sit behind him, leaning against a wall as you smoke, while he’s on his phone, music loudly playing, using your legs as a backrest.

This position evolved the closer you got.

Right before dating, he’d be between your legs, elbows on your knees and then as it turned into a relationship, Thanos was directly leaning on you, his back against your chest, your chin resting on top of his head.

“Babe.” He said calmly, hands frozen in the air. He had paused his music.

“Mh.” You raised an eyebrow and took a drag of your rollie, keeping the smoke in.

“You’re putting ash in my hair.”

You looked down at his hair, exhaling all the smoke before replying.

“No, I’m not.” You lightly tapped your cigarette with your index, ashes flying away. “There’s nothing.”

“You-” He turned around. “It’s not a reason to spit your smoke in my hair instead ! My god, babe ! Seriously…” He complained, brushing them quickly with his hands to get rid of the ashes that still weren't in them.

You snorted, letting out a ‘sorry’ before putting your chin on his head once more and taking another drag.

“I’m serious, don’t do it again.” He clicked his tongue. “Don’t wanna fucking smell like tobacco.”

“Aw.” You grimaced, rubbing your cheek against him as you squeezed him. “But that smell is so much better than your recent cologne.”

“What ?! Are the nerves in your nose rotten ? Are you crazy ?” He turned around once more, a hand dramatically on his heart.

You laughed.

“Perhaps. But whatever you’re using, it’s soooo bad.” You grimaced, closing your eyes in disgust. “Price doesn’t mean good.”

He sighed, putting his music back on before resting once more against you. He had decided to ignore you.

“Rotten nose.” He muttered.

“Smelly bitch.” You whispered back.

He grabbed your rollie, crushing it on the ground as you gasped, quickly trying to stop him. But it was too late.

“Boom !” He threw his hands in the air.

“Asshole !” You gave the back of his head a light slap as you groaned. “It was my last rolling sheet too…” You let out a displeased sigh. Crossing your arms to put some distance between his back and you.

He just shrugged, rolling his eyes but happy you were no longer ‘putting’ ashes in his hair as he styled some strands carefully.

“Stink bug.” You whispered, resting your head against the wall behind you, your feet tapping the ground.

Sometimes you’re the one laying against Thanos, resting between his legs.

A lot of times he will ask you to not lay on him so he can use your back as if it was a paper to write on with his fingers.

His phone is in his other hand, lyrics being written in the note app or directly sending them to you. He has the autocorrect on yet he still writes certain words on your back.

You try to guess the words and spell them for him, though he doesn’t always touch your back completely or touch too lightly for you to feel it properly.

“Alright, I’m done.” He says, pushing his phone in his pocket as you lay against his chest.

But you know he’s not done, although it’s silent and your eyes are closed, you know he’s still thinking about making the perfect bars. You know because you can feel his arms move around you, hands flying, you could also hear a few breathed out words every now and then.

You raise your hands up, blindly reaching for his, when you feel them with your fingers you stop, just touching his wrists or palms is enough. Your fingers are wiggling, tapping lightly against his skin occasionally.

After a few seconds he lowers his hands so your fingers could fit in his palms fully, hands holding yours and waving them around as he continues to mentally rap.

There are times where it’s more subtle, sitting next to each other but only your feet are touching, mainly in public when there’s a lot of people. Or when you two visit his dad.

Which doesn’t happen a lot, quite rarely to be honest. And you understand why.

Each time you saw him, the man was drunk.

He doesn’t even know you two are a thing because Thanos knows he won’t react well to the news.

There’s almost always an awkward silence as you sit next to him, your shoe against his as you both listen to his dad rant angrily about something, beer in hand. A couple times Thanos couldn’t help but clash against him, almost getting into a fist fight that you had to interrupt.

You’re not sure who would win between the two and don’t wanna find out despite Thanos telling you he would obviously win.

But he’s not like this at your parents’ place. Where it’s more peaceful and open than at his dad’s. They know you’re in a relationship with Thanos though they don’t know about his addiction or debts, only finding him a bit eccentric.

His arms wrapped around you, or your hand on his thigh as you sit next to each other or he is directly laying on you when you’re resting on the couch.

“Stink bug.” You whispered to not disturb your parents watching TV on the second couch.

Thanos said nothing in return, refusing to acknowledge the nickname. He just focused harder on falling asleep to not hear your annoying voice.

“Stink bug.” You called again, a bit louder. “Your stench is suffocating me.”

He scoffed.

“Stop breathing then.” He quietly replied, eyes still closed.

“But I’ll die.”

“Not my problem. I won’t come to your funeral, annoying brat.”

“Aww. I’m hurt.”

He didn’t reply, no longer wanting to engage with you.

“No but seriously, you stink.”

He’s had enough, getting up to nap in your old room. He knew you were joking though you didn’t really like his cologne.

“Your cat appreciates my smell.” He said quietly, before walking away, flipping you off behind your parents’ back, sticking his tongue out.

“It’s because you smell like fish.” You replied, getting up and following him.

As he reaches the first door frame behind the couches he turns around, stopping you.

“Why are you following me ?”

“Because, my love.” You dramatically placed a hand on his shoulder. “Although you smell like fish, my heart still beats for you.” You said, making a heart with your fingers.

“Get lost.” He said, pointing behind you after pushing your hand away from his shoulder.

“But baby.” You tried to look sad, though you couldn’t get rid of your smile.

“Fuck. Off.” His hands went on you make you turn around, but you fought back, trying to push him aside so you could walk with him to your room. You did this for a good minute, struggling while trying to remain silent to not attract your parents’ attention.

But alas it didn’t work.

“[Name], did you clean the table ?”

“He didn’t clean it ?” Your mom asked.

“No, I don’t think so.” Your father replied.

You sighed, pulling away from Thanos who smiled, flipping you off again with both hands. You did the same before pointing at him menacingly.

“You. Lucky ass bastard bitch.” You whispered.

He just shrugged before going up the stairs, almost dancing. Finally, away from you !

“Stink bug !”

“I’ll lock the door !”

“No !” You rushed up the stairs to stop him as he quickly ran to your room, closing behind himself.

“[Name] ?!” Your dad called and you quickly got back downstairs to clean the table.

He honestly adores your touch, don’t get him wrong, but there are times where it isn’t welcomed. Mostly when he’s too focused on something.

You never really know when your touch will become too much when he’s thinking or working. He can like it like he can find it annoying. Stopping him from thinking, losing his ideas, forgetting his words.

So you try to not touch him or only very lightly when he’s working but he’s the one taking his laptop and sitting right against you. Yet he’s gonna glare at you when your arm rubs against his as you go to grab something.

But most of the time he’s vocal about it, telling you to stop touching him. He’s a bit rude about it and the first few times were a bit surprising.

“Stop it.” He muttered, raising a hand up to stop you from resting your head on his shoulder.

You stared at him, confused.

“Huh ?” You raised an eyebrow.

He doesn’t look away from his screen as his hand closed into a fist, only leaving his index up. ‘Shut up.’ ?

You raised another eyebrow, getting more confused and slightly annoyed.

Then he pointed at his screen, quickly, before continuing typing again. You leaned closer to watch what he was writing.

Lyrics. Oh !

You quickly understood he needed space to work.

You hummed a ‘sorry’ quietly, pulling away a bit to lay on one of the pillows instead.

Though he doesn’t want you to touch him doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you around.

It also happens when he takes his colorful pills, getting sometimes overstimulated by them.

It had always been like that, even when you were friends, so you knew about it.

When you landed on that island with him, your guts quickly made you worry about him.

Your guts were proven right. That girl died and Thanos took one of his pills, getting high and rather unpredictable making it harder for you to find a way to de-stress in between games. Each death, and there were a lot of them, made you more queasy, trying to reach out to him.

Unsuccessfully.

Though he could be with you, sitting next to you, a hand on your knee, as time went on he’s too out of it to notice you’re drifting away from each other. Zoning out or too energetic to stay in place and remain with you. Sometimes leaving you on your own.

You didn’t know what to do, whether you wanted out or not, voting O or X. You no longer knew if you were on the same wavelength or if he would accept you voting X.

He really loves you and your touch, finding it grounding and a constant reminder that you’re with him. But that island made his greediness come out more than ever, seeing himself invincible and lucky enough to survive all games.

He has to repay his debts or he’ll die trying. Whatever happens.

[aziraphales-library]

Back to bug you again! Randomly thought about "there was only one bed" and then immediately randomly thought "lol there was only one body" as in for some reason I was secretly starving for possession fics? Not a lost fic ask. Just a "got any for me?"

Read a great one, Tether by Gingercat a while back.

But it is a crime that "there was only one body" does not seem to be a tag.

Basically I mean I'm ISO fics with any unfortunate events that cause either Az or Crowley to have to possess the other's body. And most likely it devolves pretty quickly from there.

There is not a 'there was only one body' tag, but there IS a sharing a body tag. Here is a selection for you...

Possession by spunknbite (E)

“So my idea, and please don’t dismiss it offhand - ” Aziraphale settles back against the pillows, “I think you should possess me.” “That’s a terrible idea,” Crowley says flatly.

And I Would Hide My Face In You by amerande (E)

It had been six thousand years, more or less, since Aziraphale had last been without a corporation. He'd forgotten how different some things were. OR: The one where they share a body.

Bonded by Guanin (T)

Aziraphale had almost died, almost fucking died, and now he was sharing Crowley's body, his spirit surrounding Crowley, a loving, pulsing presence right in the very heart of him. He had never been this close to Aziraphale before, had never dreamed that it would be possible. He was sorely glad that he didn’t need to breathe, for he wouldn’t be able to manage it with Aziraphale’s presence making him feel drunk and mellow. It was a miracle that he could drive at all. Aziraphale had grafted himself onto Crowley’s soul, the border between them permeable and merging at the edges a little more with every second that passed by.

I've Got You Under My Skin by redundant_angel (E)

Crowley must possess Aziraphale in order to prove to Hell that he's worthy of keeping his demonic powers. Aziraphale agrees to help. ------ “Regulation demands that you must prove to us that you are worthy of your demonic status by possessing another being and having them bend to Satan’s will.” “Oh, is that all?" said Crowley.

Meanwhile… by TheTalkingPeanut (M)

My alternative take of these scenes/the near-ending of the 6th episode (and that one from the 5th). I got a 'what if' in my head after I heard these lines: "I just need to find a receptive body. It's harder than you think. I just need to find a body...pity I can't inhabit yours." To which MY mind added his response: "Why not? Who said you can't? I'm right here, Aziraphale. Take me."

A bit snug by fenrislorsrai (T)

“I do need a body. Pity I can’t inhabit yours. Angel, demon...probably explode…” --- And there was only one bed body. They can't be made to fight if they're both in the same body. It's the surest way to cancel each other out and make sure they won't have to face each other at Armageddon if they can't stop the end. They may not explode, but there's definitely other consequences. Not least of which is getting to know the parts of each other they hid from each other or were too afraid to admit to. What can they learn from each other's experiences? What ARE bodies? After all this time, they're finding their ideas of such were perhaps too limited by what they'd been told. What is Self and what part of it is defined by other's perception of you? and what if that Other is now with you? Can you still deny you are worthy of love when you must direct some of it back at yourself to love another who’s currently part of you. Which is all very serious but also they bicker a lot, flirt with someone in same body (awkward), have Opinions about how to take their tea, make a demonic pact, and confuse Gabriel with math.

And the one you mentioned...

Tether by Ginger_Cat (E)

Aziraphale, Supreme Archangel of the Heavenly Host, is just minding his own business. Really. It's not like he's trying to get summoned to Earth during highly important archangelic duties. And Crowley's not trying to summon him, he swears, but somehow it still keeps happening... Now, if they could only figure out why?

- Mod D

[k0nanharv3y]

Alfred who came down after hearing so much noise: What's going on here, Mr. Bruce, Mr. Tim?

And Tim's face turned to Alfred like a rubber band. Bruce's face took a little longer, but he also looked at the old man in pain, seeking comfort or advice from his father

Alfred looked between Tim's heartbroken face and Bruce's wounded face: I don't know what's going on here, but I would advise you both to change and take your conversation upstairs

And Tim only saw red

Tim: This is- I'm so done!, I'm so fucking done, with you!

He pointed aggressively at Bruce

Tim: You!

Damian, who had stood on the sidelines and now seemed personally offended

Tim: And you! And everyone else in this fucking family!

Finally he pointed at Alfred even more aggressively

Alfred, shocked by the open display of hatred towards him, he felt his heart heavy: Mr. Tim- I-

For the first time in perhaps ever, Alfred hesitated

Damian: Hey! You have nothing to yell at Pennyworth for!

He defended

Tim: Shut up Damian, this isn't about you!

He silenced him and turned to both adults now

Tim: It's about you, and what you did to me

Both adults looked at each other and remained silent

Tim: You, you were an abuser and I didn't deserve that, any of this, I've always tried to please you, to live up to what you wanted! And you?! You left him, Alfred, and I wish I didn't hate you like Dick and Jason do, but all I see when I come into this house is an abuser and the person who let him! Don't play dumb, Alfred, you- You're just as bad as Bruce! And even if Bruce was the problem, you never made me feel welcome! Never-! I had to walk home a hundred times with bruised ribs, ribs that you bandaged up and then pretended didn't exist!

His throat was now raw and his voice had become cracked and squeaky. And both adults, when they saw Tim, didn't see the 17-year-old running a multi-million dollar company, they just saw the 12-year-old excited to be Robin and looking for any kind of validation they could give him

And this was what they gave him, a house where he didn't feel safe or welcome, a family he avoided like fire avoids water, thousands of reasons not to return and they robbed him of any kind of childhood he could've had

And the two adults remained silent, unable to deny or say anything, because they had nothing to say. Tim had said enough for them

Tim: You say you loved all the children in this mansion, but guess what, Alfred, I was once a child myself, and the only thing I ever got from here, never came from you. When I came here to become Robin, I thought... I thought I might get something like Jason and Dick got, too, but it seems the only thing I'll get from you is an inscription on my grave. What will you put this time, Alfred? "A good soldier," "A good son"?

Silence was his response

Tim: Fuck you all

He pulled off his cape and threw it on the ground

Tim: Fuck you all. I'm tired of this, tired of-! Of everyone wanting something from me! I quit

He ripped off his tool belt and threw it at Bruce

Tim: I quit your stupid last name, I quit your stupid company, I quit being Red Robin, I quit everything

When he had nothing left to tear off, he kicked things off the floor

Tim: I'm done! And if you ever- And if you ever care even a little, don't look for me! I don't want anything to do with this family, all of you-!

He looked at the people in the cave and seemed about to cry

Tim: I hope you-! Fuck you all, I never deserved this! Fuck you, I hope you all fuck off and-!

His voice broke and his crying intensified

Tim: I hope you die

His voice trailed off as he tried to wipe away the tears that kept running down his cheeks

Tim: I hope you suffer at least a fraction of what you did to me and...! And... And why can't I hate you...? Why can't I hate you...?

His voice sounded so tired

Tim: All I ever wanted was to be... to be enough, for you to love me... and I want to hate you but- but you're my father, and they're my brothers and... and I'm so tired, I want to go home, I want to feel safe and I want to hate you! Why can't hate you?!

He collapsed on the ground, like all his other things, like a pathetic spectacle of a pathetic child. He felt miserable in the eyes of the people who hurt him, he felt vulnerable and naked and... and he didn't care anymore, the weight he had been carrying for so long finally lifted from his shoulders and he felt satisfaction at the heartbroken look on Bruce's face and the pain on Alfred's face, and Tim simply didn't care about being on the ground anymore

He didn't care about anything anymore, just like he didn't matter

///

Part 1 Jumpscare!!!

That awkward conversation I had!!

///

And no one gets any comfort because god knows I don't know how to write about comfort, Tim deserved that breakdown and Bruce and Alfred deserved to have someone point out to their faces that they were, in fact, abusive and ruined a child's life

I would do this with Dick, Jason, Damian and Barb too, but I haven't read many comics about them, fanfics? sure, but I don't know how much of it is canon and what their real personalities are

Bruce ruined his children's futures, but canonically he also saved them. Dick was saved from becoming GraySon, Jason was rescued from the streets, Damian was saved from the League of Assassins, and Barb... Barb made choices

But Dick was also condemned to the superhero life and all the harm that entails, Jason was condemned to die, Damian went from an abusive mother to a neglectful father, and Barb... well, she's now permanently in a wheelchair

There's just too much to unpack there!!!! And my psychology books are begging to be opened again, but Tim is my favorite and that means everything I think of will be about or referring to him