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[sunlightmurdock]

ain’t afraid of a little thunder | tyler owens

“now, sweetheart… I know you didn’t come crawling in here in the middle of the night,” his gaze flickers between your shadowed, sullen face and the way your sleep shirt ends at the middle of your thighs. “just because of a little thunder?”

warnings: minors dni, 18+. smut. unprotected pinv. oral (m+f). no physical descriptions of reader except some hair pulling mentioned.

…

Blinding white light flashes, spilling through and under the gaps in the curtains. The furniture is, at once, illuminated a ghastly white. The room remains still, aside from where you lay in your bed, tangled in sheets and breathing softly. 

What comes next isn’t the rolling kind of thunder that usually spills across these parts, there’s nothing slow or melodic about it. It comes as an almighty clap, shaking the old farmhouse down to its foundations. 

Seemingly spurred on by the sound, the wind joins the symphony by crashing into the window, slamming at the shutters and making the two panels swing wide open.

The storm howls now, spilling through these old walls and waking you with a start. You shoot upright in bed, eyes wide and heart thundering in your ears. Rain splatters on the worn floorboards as you look frantically around your childhood bedroom.

“Shit.” You huff out, hurling yourself out of the creaky, old metal-framed bed you had spent your teenage years in. You stumble towards the whirling wind and wrestle the window shut, snapping the latch shut once again.

You had been jolted so violently from your dreams that you aren’t even sure your eyes are open until you’re staring at streaks of lightning painting the dark sky. With a trembling hand, you reach for the edge of the curtain and pull it back across the window.

Even with your view gone, as you slip back into bed it’s impossible to pretend that the storm isn’t happening. It whips at the house, making the foundations creak and groan. Every few seconds, the sky will streak bright white and will roar with another clap of thunder. 

Eyes squeezed shut and the sheets pulled high isn’t cutting it. The weather rages just beyond these four walls, refusing to be ignored. Your heart thunders along with the bellowing horizon.

You toss onto your left side. Then your right. A frustrated sound slips your lips as you thrash onto your back. It’s like the storm is just getting worse. Closer. 

Each flash of lightning feels brighter. Each clap of thunder feels louder. You tremble under the confines of your comforter, lips pursed. You shoot a quick look toward the little digital alarm clock on your night stand. 1:55. 

Panic flares in your chest. You remember being small in this room, terrified of these same storms. The nights where you would tear out of bed and race down the hall to the safety of your parents’ bed.

You’re a little old for that now, and they chose this week of all to be vacationing at Niagara Falls. 

You pull the blankets tighter around yourself, momentarily blinded by the prospect of being alone in this big, rickety house all by yourself in the path of a storm — you’re miles away from help reaching you.

But you aren’t all alone. 

After a tough few days of field work, you had opened your doors — well, your parents’ doors — to a… colleague, of sorts. If that’s what you could call Tyler. You had a common goal, and he needed a place to stay while the two of you got some work done, that was all. It was easier than sending him to the motel an hour away.

He’s down the hall, probably sleeping like a baby, in the guest room.

You couldn’t possibly wake him. He would hold it over your head for the rest of your life. You would never live it down. Being a meteorologist who can’t sleep through a little—

Storm.

It’s that last, tremendous crash of thunder that sends you flying, once again, out of your childhood bed as it rattles the house. You’re cursing yourself under your breath already as you pad, barefoot down the hallway. 

Past pictures of yourself missing teeth and grinning, sporting pigtails and wearing overalls — all images of yourself that you would rather the famed ‘Tornado Wrangler’ himself hadn’t seen. 

The only thing that stops you is a brief moment in front of the door to the guest room, where you stand debating whether it would be better to knock or to just slip in and hope that he doesn’t even notice you.

You should knock. He could be naked. Shit. 

Swallowing both your pride and the lump of solid anxiety in your throat, you close your eyes and rap your knuckles softly against the door. Maybe he doesn’t hear you over the storm, or maybe he’s just a deep sleeper, but he doesn’t answer.

You should leave him alone.

But you can’t stand the thought of being by yourself through this. What if it’s something big? — You should have checked the radar.

You’re already twisting the doorknob, as slow as you can. It complies silently, the door slipping open without a peep. You would have gotten away with it, if you had thought about the light in the hall.

You get a glimpse of him while he’s still asleep. Sprawled out across the bed, laying on his back on the side closest to the door, his hair mussed and his face turned away from you. Curtains wide open, still. His clothes are thrown on the chair in the corner. The sheets are slung low on his waist. A flash of lightning illuminates the ridges through the golden skin of his abdomen. 

Then, that darned light from the hallway casts across his face and wakes him. He stirs, groaning in soft complaint as he lifts his head from the pillow and blinks angrily in your direction.

He says your name, his voice deep and growly from sleep. His tone vaguely suggests that he’s checking if it’s really you, but you’re too distracted to answer him.

Tyler twists his neck and looks around for a clock, pushing himself up just a little and letting the sheets fall to reveal the waistband of his navy boxers. “What time is it?”

“Late. Sorry,” You mumble out, still standing in his wide-open doorway like an idiot. “You should go back to sleep.”

His brows knit together as he turns his head to look at you again. Grumpy looks good on him. Especially when he’s laying in bed, his hair disheveled and his clothes on the floor. 

He presses the base of his palm into his eye socket, every bit as disgruntled as he looks as he rubs the sleep away with his big hands. 

“You gonna stand there and watch me all night if I do?” 

Your immediate reaction is to put your hackles up and get defensive at the accusation, like that’s not kind of exactly how the situation would appear to him.

“No, I just… I couldn’t sleep.” Your answer isn’t really an answer at all. Tyler reminds you of this by simply raising his eyebrows, as if to say ‘and what might that have to do with me?’. You shrug your shoulders. “I was just coming to see if— if you were up.”

“I am now.” Tyler offers. “What did you want?”

Desperately to go back to sleep. You’re exhausted. These past few days have been some of the hardest of your life — and here you are, unable to sleep, trying to find a bed to sleep in, like a child.

You stand there, debating for a moment if you’re going to come clean. It would be easy enough to just admit your irrational little fear and crawl into bed, and deal with the constant teasing from then on. 

Unfortunately, your body makes the decision for you. Thunder and lightning crash together, shaking the house once again. The rain whipping at the shutters does nothing to conceal the gasp-bordering-shriek that slips your lips as you jump and rush into the room.

Tyler’s eyes widen through the dark. His gaze is quizzical as he studies the abject panic on your face, then looks to his window. Then, he looks slowly back to you. 

His mouth twitches. Excitement flashes across his face with a burst of lightning as a grin twists at his mouth.

“Now, sweetheart… I know you didn’t come crawling in here in the middle of the night,” His gaze flickers between your shadowed, sullen face and the way your sleep shirt ends at the tops of your thighs. “Just because of a little thunder?”

“Don’t be a dick about it — I know it’s ridiculous, I just can’t sleep.” You rush out, folding your arms across your chest. As you do so, your shirt bunches and rides up just enough to prove that you are, in fact, not wearing any shorts. He’d been wondering about that.

As he studies your face for the next few moments, you can see that he considers being a dick — and decides against it.

He holds his palms up in surrender, and shrugs his shoulders as he peels back the other side of the covers. Amusement coats his words as he drawls a playful, “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Closing the door to the hallway, the room is plunged into darkness once again. You trudge around to the other side of the bed, begrudging every moment of this ridiculous night. You should have had him sleep in the barn like you had threatened to. But then you really would be all alone in this big old house.

His eyes follow your silhouette around the foot of the bed, as the sky flashes white once more he takes note of the way your cute graphic tee sits a little higher in the back, giving him just the smallest glimpse of where your thighs meet the swell of your ass.

He waits for you to reach the bed and set one knee on before he goes back to trying to rest. He lays down on his back and closes his eyes as the bed shifts slightly with your weight and the covers wriggle around with your movement.

Then, things settle.

The bed goes still, and so do the both of you as you lay side by side in it. It’s not an especially large double, but the two of you both seem to be choosing to ignore the way his warm shoulder is pressed right up against yours.

It’s just his shoulder. His bare shoulder, sure, but it’s not like you could ask him to put some clothes on — you’re the one who came crawling into his bed in your underwear. You’re just grateful that there’s just about enough room for the rest of you to not graze him at all.

You close your eyes, and inhale deeply. This whole house usually smells like lavender and vanilla, but not now. This room smells like spiced oak and pine, and the familiar smell of his cologne lingers on his clothes, his belongings— his bare skin.

His voice cuts through the dark. “So, you’re not like a bedwetter or anything, right? — D’your parents usually like give you a stuffed animal to get through this kind of thing, or—“

You reach out and smack him hard in his stomach. His hard, taught stomach. “Shut it, Owens.”

The bed rattles with his soft laughter.

“I just— I’m blindsided,” He admits, still laughing. He tucks an arm behind his head, meaning your shoulder now sits in the curve of his underarm. “You’re afraid of thunder.”

You throw yourself onto your side, turning swiftly away from him and tugging away his share of covers just out of spite. “No one will ever believe you. I’ll tell them you’re crazy.” 

He grins in the dark.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not gonna tattle on you — you have no idea how much I’m enjoying being the only person who knows that Little Miss ‘Do As I Say’ gets this rattled over a little rain.”

You roll your eyes, then close them. “Goodnight, Tyler.”

The bed shakes again with another bout of his quiet laughter. “Yeah, g’night, honey.”

The pet names are going to be put to an abrupt end first thing tomorrow morning. You’re going to give him hell before he even gets a chance to open his stupid, pretty mouth. Until then, you have to keep yourself from doing anything that might have you exiled back to your own room.

Once again, the room settles. The rain whips at the windows, soaking the soil outside. Thunder rumbles closer again, but the lightning flashes don’t seem quite so bright. 

You focus on the sound of him breathing. Deep, slow inhales. He’s calm as could be, his weight pressing into the mattress and his body heat radiating under the shared covers. Uncomfortable on your right side but not wanting to be facing him, you roll onto your back.

Unconsciously a few moments later, you roll back onto your right side. Maybe then your left side. After that, your back again. Then your front.  

As you sigh and twist, Tyler sucks in a sharp breath from beside you.

“God damn, will you sit still? — You’re gonna spin yourself out of this bed.” It’s not until he’s done complaining that you realize he’s now holding you. His arm is secured tight enough around your middle that you couldn’t roll over again, even if you wanted to. Facing away from him, your eyes stare at the painted wall.

He huffs, closing his eyes and flexing his arm around you as he drags you closer.

“Go to sleep.” He mumbles groggily, his breath tickling at the nape of your neck. 

Well, if you were struggling before, then the sentiment is entirely hopeless now. 

You lie awake, watching the sky crackle and glow with flashes of colour. Tyler lies with you, feeling you flinch at every boom that follows.

He shifts suddenly behind you, feeling you go rigid.

“This thing really has you spooked, doesn’t it?” His fingers sprawl across your covered stomach, his voice coated with a softness you weren’t expecting. You feel him lift his head and peer over your shoulder, trying to get a look at your face.

“No.” You bite back, trying to tug yourself free from his hold and shift closer to the edge of the bed. You’ll be hanging off of the side if you keep this up.

“Here, c’mere,” Tyler murmurs, catching your bicep and turning you back around. Your brows furrow and your face grows stormy, and he can just tell that you’re batting up to argue with him. 

He opens both of his arms and wraps them around you at once, giving you no choice but to squish against his chest. Your eyes squeeze open as he presses his lips to your hairline. “It’s alright, you’re alright.”

You stare at the freckle on his neck up close as his fingers stroke at the length of your trembling spine, frozen.

“Listen,” He mumbles against your hair as another clap of thunder tears across the sky. “Two, three, four, five — it’s already getting further away. Was just passing us by.”

“I know that.” You mumble begrudgingly against his chest, hating the way your fingers instinctively splay across his bare ribs.

Quiet falls between the two of you. You get it, he’s just trying to help — and frankly you are being a little ridiculous. He gets it, sometimes there’s no explaining fear. It’s just there.

His fingers stop at the base of your spine, disrupting the soft pattern he had going. Just for a moment, before he skims them all the way to the nape of your neck and curls them around the curve of your shoulder.

Once again, his mouth grazes your temple. Barely a kiss. Maybe even something platonic. He’s just trying to settle you. But then, there doesn’t feel like there’s much platonic about the way you’re wrapped together.

“It’s alright,” He murmurs. You can feel the rumble of his voice in your chest as he gives your nape a soft squeeze. “Breathe with me.”

Tyler takes long, deep breaths. Slow, and steady, but not patronizing. The kind that make you feel a dizzy kind of sleepy. You could fall asleep just like this, wrapped in his arms and copying his breaths, but you won’t let yourself. 

You dip your head forwards just a fraction, and press your lips to his bare shoulder. It’s small, and again barely a kiss, maybe even something platonic. Just like his was. He doesn’t say anything about it, and the quiet continues for a little longer.

His thumb strokes at the column of your throat as he leans in, turning his nose towards your hair. “That’s it.” 

You turn your head too, closing your lips softly around his collarbone. This one’s an inch less polite than the others, just a bit more daring, but still easy to misunderstand.

Opening up your palm, you trail your nails along his side, brushing softly from his ribs to his hips. Then, you stretch your neck and reach higher.

His fingers squeeze at your nape as your lips close against his throat. His free hand comes from its resting place against the sheets to curl around your thigh.

The tip of your nose bumps his chin in passing, he looks down while you look up until your eyes are locked together through the dark.

You would never live this down. Your work is too important to risk it all by— he’s kissing you before you’re done arguing with yourself, and your mind is made up.

His stubble scrubs at your cheek as he presses against you, capturing your mouth with his, kneading at his hold on your thigh. 

Your palm presses into the muscle of his back, firm and pulling him against you. You’re the one who hikes your thigh around his hip. He’s the one who twists the two of you and plants you firmly on your back between the pillows.

And then, you’re looking at each other again.

Lightning flashes across the sky, making his green eyes glow emerald for a moment. They search across your face while his hands take hold of your hips.

He looks at you in a way he never has before, all those days working together, his eyes hungry with lust. The intensity in those pretty, green eyes sends shocks of electricity up your spine.

“Just for tonight, and we never speak of this again.” You breathe, eyes wide as you stare up at him. Tyler’s lips twitch.

“You’re gonna regret those terms.” He promises, letting that cocky grin of his twist across his mouth, raising his brows in challenge. You swallow, narrowing your eyes back at him. “But, sure. Whatever you say.”

Right as you’re starting to think that maybe this isn’t worth its risk, he leans forwards and turns your head to the side, closing his mouth around your pulse point. 

His teeth graze against the spot, just sharp enough of a sting to make you gasp before he’s pressing against you harder, kissing harder, soothing his mark with his tongue. 

The tip of his angled nose bumps the curve of your jaw, his stubble scratching at your sensitive skin. You hike your leg higher around his waist, pressing your foot into his thigh. His tongue dips from between his lips, flicking across your jugular before he captures the spot with his mouth.

Your fingers curl around his neck, squeezing at his nape, holding his mouth against your throat. A moan slips your lips as his teeth graze over your skin. He sucks a firm kiss into the spot below your ear.

He hums as your fingers slide up into his hair, rewarding you with another open-mouthed kiss in a spot that makes you squirm. Your eyes close contentedly as his mouth works against the smooth skin there.

When the next crash of thunder shakes the foundations, you almost forget to flinch. 

Tyler twists his head sharply and with a sudden, mutual urgency, you crash together. He pulls you flush against him, sliding his tongue into your mouth and caressing it expertly against yours.

Then, his attention turns to the large, old local team jersey you had worn to bed. It was the first thing you had found in your closet. He doesn’t seem to care, bunching it around your middle and tugging you forwards to lift it over your head.

Lightning strikes as the jersey hits the floor. As his knees sit between your thighs, Tyler studies your body. He has thought about this before, what you might look like under all that office-wear. His imagination doesn’t compare.

He sits back on his knees, cupping his palm over the tent straining against his boxer-briefs. Your gaze flickers downward, eye-lids drooping with want as you watch him palm a hand over his cock.

“Don’t move.” He mumbles, reaching out to settle his other hand against the soft curve of your bare waist. It’s clear that he has a plan in his head, you can practically hear the gears turning as his darkened eyes study your body.

Stroking himself carelessly, he drops his hand to the inside of your thigh and pushes it back just a bit. Then, Tyler groans as he lowers his mouth to your chest. One of his warm, weathered hands comes up to caress your breast while his mouth cares for the other.

He kisses softly over the swell of skin, more gentle than you would have expected someone like him to be. He glances up at you as he purses his lips and blows softly, fanning cool air against your already half-hardened nipple.

Then, that talented tongue dips from his lips again, and traces the colour of your nipple, flicking back and forth across the bud before he finally closes his mouth around it. 

Your head sinks into the pillows as your chest arches eagerly toward his kisses. Moans spill from your lips, and you just know that you’ll be soaked by the time he finally touches you.

He doesn’t keep you waiting long. Amidst his parade of kisses, as he’s approaching your navel, his hand dips between your legs. You almost flinch at the contact, keening into his touch instead. 

His fingertips are featherlight, trailing the seams of your underwear where they sit between your thighs. His thumb presses firmer, experimentally sliding between your folds. 

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance down as he looks up at you. His mouth twists as your excitement spills through the lace against the pad of his thumb.

This is most definitely territory that neither one of you have business venturing into. It’s certainly going to make your next venture a little bit more tense than usual. The irony of it being your common venture that had led you here isn’t lost on either of you either.

Tyler makes it known that he has every intention of bringing his usual cockiness to this encounter, smirking as he presses his mouth to your hipbone, circling his thumb softly over your clit.

Bright, white lightning streaks again outside the window. It bathes the farm you grew up on in sudden, harsh light. The rumble of thunder doesn’t come until Tyler’s sucking a mark into the inside of your thigh— he was right, it is getting further away.

And he’s getting closer.

You gasp sharply as he opens his lips and dives forwards, mouthing at your soaked core through the flimsy constraints of your lace underwear. 

The next streak of lightning catches all of the shadows in the muscles of his back, working and flexing as he peels your underwear down your thighs. He kisses the length of your legs, nipping and biting as he goes, tossing the lace to some far corner of the room as soon as he’s done.

Your fingers shoot into his hair, squeezing firmly as he buries his face between your legs. Eager and animalistic, he sucks and licks, holding your thighs over his strong shoulders. You shudder. He groans as you tug at his sandy roots.

As you have found with everything else he does, Tyler’s ginormous ego seems to be well-founded. He has every bit the right to be so confident. 

Though, you’ll never admit that outside of these four walls.

He doesn’t need you to. The way your body thrashes and arches against his mouth tells him all he needs to know. 

You hum softly like you haven’t been moaning openly into the chilled room, tugging at his short locks once again. He groans into your excitement. At once, ring finger slides into you alongside his middle. He curls them both into you.

The sharp gasp it draws from you goes straight to his cock, eliciting another deep groan from his chest as he grinds himself against the patterned sheets.

All you can do is breathe, heels pressing into the mattress as you chase his mouth. Unhindered whimpers spilling from your lips as he works his fingers into you. It feels better than good. Incredible, even.

For the sake of your dignity, you’re grateful to lack the ability to tell him how good this feels. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Tyler takes a break to nip at your thighs and coax you towards the finish line you’re already desperate to cross. He looks up at you from between your legs. Your head is thrown back into the pillows, your muscles tensed and trembling. You’re fucking yourself on his fingers. “Take what you need. You gonna get yourself there?”

Then, he leans down and licks one stripe along your core, making you cry out. “Or you need me to do it for you?”

“God, you’re an asshole,” You rush out, brows furrowing in concentration as you desperately chase that high. He chuckles softly, leaving you hanging as he waits for your answer. “Yes! Alright? — I need you.”

Tyler takes that answer with delight, pinning your thigh back against your middle with sudden strength as his fingers twist into you. You shiver as his mouth takes charge once again.

It doesn’t take him long to blind you with your orgasm, your eyes balled shut so tight that you’re seeing stars. You’re trembling as he’s kissing across your stomach

He licks his lips, still grinning as you drag his glistening mouth back to yours. Meeting you with exactly the same fervor, rolling his hips into yours. You groan at the gentle scratch of his stubble, holding him close.

“Fuck me.” You mumble against his lips, trying to reach between your bodies to push down his boxer-briefs. Your fingertips graze his straining cock, stilling immediately. You glance down, eyes wide as you take note of his size.

“I don’t have a condom.” He mumbles back, kissing you hard before you have enough time to comment on what he’s been packing beneath that stupid, huge buckle this whole time.

“You— You don’t?” You pant, trailing your nails down his back as he sucks at your throat.

“Didn’t think I’d be needing one.” His hands skim up your middle and grab at your tits together, kneading them in his capable hands. He drops his head to suck at the tops of them, his stubbled cheeks scratching at the sensitive skin in the best way.

You almost growl in frustration, thighs trying to clamp together around his hips. You don’t want the night to end here.

“I’m on birth control. If you’re—“

“I’m responsible, we’re good.” Tyler swears, flicking his tongue across your pebbled nipple. “If that’s what you want, baby. You want me bare?”

Your core throbs at his deep voice, so close and so filthy.

“Yes.” You whisper, arching your chest into his mouth as he turns his head to pay equal attention to your other breast. “Fuck, yes.” 

He finally pays himself some attention, sitting back on his knees and dipping his hand into his boxers. Your lips part, watching through lust-hooded eyes as he fists at his cock from between your legs.

“Take them off.” You demand, more urgently than you’ve been before. Tyler’s lips twitch, but you’re not letting him have this one without playing first. “You’re not shy, are you?”

He rolls his shoulders back, giving a slow and certain shake of his head. No, of course he isn’t shy. Why would he be? 

Your mouth goes dry as he pushes the boxers down his thighs and kicks them off of the bed. His cock springs free, standing to attention against the trail of sandy brown hair that trails Tyler’s navel.

It’s impressive, and pink at the tip. Annoyingly as pretty as the rest of him is.

He looks carved from stone, kneeling between your legs with broad shoulders and a chiseled chest. Hair sprawling across his pecs neatly, and just down his sternum. The same kind of pretty light brown as his hair. Angled hipbones. He’s defined all over, with strong thighs to match.

“You have no fuckin’ clue how long I’ve been wanting to do this.” Tyler’s admission catches you by surprise, and the shock of it is just registering in your system as he leans down and covers your body with his. 

His weight leaning against you feels better than you’d like to admit, caging you in. The storm feels far, far away. 

The tip of his cock notches at your entrance and you forget all of the doubts you just had about what he had said.

“So, do it. Please,” You breathe out, turning your face towards his neck, kissing the vein that trails there. “I want it.”

Tyler revels in the desperate sound you make as he drags his cock between your folds, his lip between his teeth as he watches the tip sink into you. He really has been waiting a long time for this.

He had made the effort in the beginning, tested your boundaries and swung by your motel rooms every now and again. Every interaction you’ve had has been strictly professional, and he wasn’t going to keep chasing someone who didn’t want to be chased.

As your walls squeeze him tight and your mouth sucks at the column of his throat— fuck, he wishes he had chased a little harder.

You roll your hips into his eagerly, gasping as he pulls almost all the way out and drives back in. You trail your nails along his shoulders, squeezing your thighs around his hips. Thunder rumbles somewhere far away, deep and low like the sounds of Tyler’s groans.

“You feel like you’re fucking made for me.” He mutters, pressing his fingertips into the supple flesh of your ass as he hugs you as close as he possibly can. Buried in you as deeply as he possibly can be, he stills for a moment and pants hard.

You make an incoherent sound of vague agreement, nipping at the curve of his jaw as you rake your nails along his shoulder. He groans at the feeling, his hips stuttering.

Pulling out slowly one last time, Tyler glances down at where the two of you are joined. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he buries himself into you once again, hard this time. Then, he’s relentless, dragging against your walls as he bottoms out again and again.

The old bed creaks in complaint under the two of you, but it’s the furthest thing from your mind as your moans threaten to muffle the sound all together.

The sky rumbles again, another loud clap of thunder making your eyes snap open. Breathless, your head whips towards the window. You watch the streaks of lightning paint the sky shades of electric blue and white. 

Again, that irrational feeling starts to gnaw at you. 

Tyler’s fingers curl around your chin, turning you back to face him.

“Look at me,” He orders, giving a sharp snap of his hips and revelling in the way it makes your mouth fall open. “I’ve got you. Just keep looking at me.” 

Dumbly, you nod your head. Your fingertips skim the ridges of muscle in his arms. Warm and strong under your touch, his body surrounds yours. His green eyes are focused and unwavering, his hands anchoring your hips to the bed.

There’s no room left for that stupid, irrational feeling. It’s all him. Fucking into you, and staring down at you, weighing you down into the creaky mattress. 

You arch your back, pushing your chest up against his as he fills you up. Tyler’s hand abandons your hip to hook around the back of your shoulders, grabbing a firm fistful of your hair. 

His other hand shoves hard at the back of your thigh, bending it up and out of his way. Your ankle rests against his shoulder, your mind going blank as this new position allows him to angle himself deeper.

“Fuck— Tyler.” You whimper, eyes wide as you look up at him. 

His hand flexes around your roots, tugging hard and making you cry out. You muffle yourself in the crook of his neck, kissing at his salty skin. 

“I’m gonna come.” You breathe out. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs, lips grazing your ear as his thrusts grow deep and fast. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Make yourself come on me.”

You don’t need to be told twice, grabbing onto his shoulder for leverage with one hand as the other dips between your colliding bodies. 

His mouth is hot against your throat as you circle your clit, his deep and desperate groans filling your ears, the smell of his sweat and faint cologne making you want to bury closer to him.

It isn’t long before you’re spilling over that edge. You bite at his throat, moaning at the way he keens desperately into the feeling. Your thighs squeeze around him, trembling through the feeling. Your fingers scramble for purchase against his bicep. 

Tyler grunts hard as your body tenses all over, your walls squeezing him tight. His pace stutters just briefly, then picks up. Your brain feels like mush, your eyes rolling back as he fucks you hard.

His head falls forwards, resting against your collarbone as he cums hard. His fingers flex around both your thigh, and the nape of your next, his voice strained as he groans. His chest heaves with his next few breaths.

You sigh, contented as you turn your face towards his neck and close your eyes. He lingers there for a moment, covering you like a blanket, gently stroking the spots he had grabbed so tightly moments before.

Then, he pulls out of you with a sigh and turns to flop onto his back. You’re surprised as he drags you with him, eyes wide at the prospect of the famed ‘Tornado Wrangler’ being a cuddler of all things.

He turns your head toward him, wasting no time in capturing your mouth with his. “How are you feeling?”

You smile hazily, turning your face towards his bare shoulder for a moment. “Tired.”

He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The two of you lie there for a few moments, catching your breath and enjoying the comfortable silence. His fingers trail the length of your spine, swirling soft patterns into your skin.

You almost let yourself fall asleep like that. He makes room for you to get up and watches you walk away as you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

He’s silent, but there’s a smile on his face when you slide back into his bed instead of your own. 

When the sun-rises and pours through the window, it wakes you first. You would complain about the curtains being wide open and the lack of sleep you had managed to get through the night, but it’s hard to when you turn and admire your view.

Tyler is asleep on his back, one arm outstretched toward you. You had been sleeping on top of it. The sheets are strewn messily around his middle and there’s a distinct purple mark at the base of his throat, a reminder of where your mouth had been.

His chest rises and falls steadily, his face calm. His hair is still disheveled, another reminder from last night. He looks even more beautiful in the daylight. 

Then, you remember what you said. Never again. How he had promised you would regret those terms— and you already do, thinking of how you’d like to wake him and repeat last night.

Unprompted, Tyler stirs in his sleep. In doing so, he shifts his hips and announces his morning wood as it stands against the sheets. 

Given that you’re still in the same room, and it’s still technically the same day, this surely doesn’t count as a separate encounter. Your terms could still stand, you reason with yourself as you lean down and kiss his shoulder. 

He doesn’t flinch. In fact, he doesn’t stir at all as you kiss your way down his muscled chest. 

His brows knit together as he starts to come to. He blinks through the abrupt morning light, squinting at the brightness as he remembers where he is. He jolts at the feeling of you mouthing along the length of his cock, eyes going wide.

He takes note, then, of the shape under the covers that sits between his legs. He peels them back slowly, meeting your gaze as you kiss his tip.

“Good morning.” You greet him cheekily. 

Tyler quirks a brow, but smiles. He shifts his hips and tucks a flexing bicep behind his head, settling back down against the pillows.

“It is now.”

[sea-lanterns]

THE PURGE

synopsis: (slasher! AU) a group of purgers break into your home.

featuring: arlecchino, columbina, sandrone, signora

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, dom characters, mentions of blood, vague descriptions of murder, there is a body, mentions of weapons, home invasion, masked se.x, five.some, org.y, transfem! columbina (she has a di.ck), strap ons, oral (both reader and character receiving), face sitting, fing.ering, slight exhibitio.n, may be ooc, not proofread.

art credits: high rise invasion.

Unloading the last of your groceries from the car, you closed the trunk and began walking towards the front entrance of your house. It was a somewhat chilly, somewhat warm day, March 21st to be exact. While the weather was probably enjoyable to those outside of your country, today was going to be a day of misery to many. From March 21st to March 22nd, The Purge will take place; a twelve hour period in which all crime including murder was going to be legal. 

You weren’t exactly sure why your government decided to mandate such a brutal “holiday” but unfortunately as someone who didn’t participate in the Purge, this made your life a lot harder than usual. You had to take extra precaution throughout the year to not make any enemies in your life, even going as far as to shut yourself off from having any friends or close family. 

‘Just twelve hours…I’ve done it several times before, I can do it again.’ You told yourself, unlocking the door to your house. ‘I’ll have to set up the security system again. Only three hours until the Purge.’ 

“Hey neighbor!” You heard a familiar voice call, causing you to look over at your neighbor who was perched against his fence. “Three hours until the Purge, huh?” 

“Ahaha…yeah.” You were getting nervous. It was never a good idea to bring up the Purge with anyone. 

“Hope you’re prepared. Lots of psychos out there who have access to the most dangerous weapons available. I even saw a woman with a chainsaw last year. Had a leather mask and everything.”

“Yeah…” you smiled, but honestly you just really wanted to get in your house.Your neighbor –although seemingly friendly– always gave you the creeps and you tried your best to be on his good side no matter what. 

“Well…Hope for the best for you during this Purge!” He smiled unnervingly wide, making you shiver and fumble to open your door. “Yep! You too!” You called out quickly, shutting the door behind you as quickly as possible. You locked the door immediately and carried your groceries to the kitchen, where you proceeded to double check every exit of the house.

You went through the yearly ritual. Double checking the doors and barricading them with heavy furniture, locking every single window and drawing the blinds (you would activate the security systems later), as well as making your way down to the basement to make sure all your weaponry was secured. 

…And by weaponry, you really only meant the small handgun you kept in a safe down there. You weren’t a super strong person by any means, so a handgun was probably your best suited weapon when it came to defending yourself. However, the handgun was only used as a last resort, so luckily you’ve never had to use it before on any of the previous Purges. Hopefully this year you won’t have to use it still.

You grabbed the handgun and made sure it was loaded before making your way upstairs. Due to being a member of the upper class, you had managed to reinforce your home with a special security system used for keeping your home safe during the Purge. Though it was only three hours before the Purge started, you weren’t taking any chances and activated it now. 

You watched as every door and window in your house became protected beneath a large metal shutter, turning on your security cameras so you could watch whatever was happening outside from the safety of your home. You nestled into the cozy chair of your desk and mentally prepared yourself for another twelve hours of manslaughter you would have to endure. 

You watched from your phone as the infamous warning for the Purge began to play. The alarm never failed to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end, the long list of rules flying over your screen as you peeked through your security cameras. So far, the only things you could see were a bunch of hooligans setting fire to a trashcan in some random alleyway. Okay, not bad. You expected a few arsonists in your neighborhood anyway…

You grabbed a bag of chips from your snack stash and opened it, continuing to watch as you stuffed your face with food like you were binging your favorite TV show. Though the Purge was a very scary time, it never directly harmed you through all the years you survived…

At least, you thought. 

For the next two hours, you simply watched in the comfort of your own bedroom while people in your neighborhood were being slaughtered left and right. You winced when you watched a poor victim get a machete to the face by some woman in a hockey mask. Oof…that’s unfortunate. You heard another scream from afar as another victim got stabbed repeatedly with a kitchen knife by a woman wearing a ghost mask. Hm…why did they look familiar? You wonder if you’ve seen them before… 

You took a sip from your drink and laid back, before nearly jumping out of your skin upon spotting a group of Purgers on your porch. Despite being masked, you could tell from their figures that they appeared to be women, with four of them in total all staring at you through the security camera. 

‘Oh…shit.’ You felt your heart sink as you waited for them to say something, anything. You hadn’t expected any Purgers to actually bother you tonight, as the most that Purgers would do is knock over your trash cans and maybe graffiti your garage door. 

One of the Purgers —a woman wearing a dove-themed mask— stepped forward and smiled at the camera. She raised a delicate hand, before ringing the doorbell and speaking into the camera. 

“Hellooooo~ Is this (Reader)’s residence?” She sang beautifully, toying with the ends of her hair. You tried to figure out her appearance to see if she was familiar to anyone you knew or talked to, but you don’t recall ever meeting a woman with black hair and bright pink streaks. 

You stayed quiet, hoping that they would just assume you couldn’t hear them and move on. This however, didn’t work as the group of women were persistent.

“Hellooooo~ I know the cutie is in there…” The dove-masked women cooed, ringing your doorbell again before one of the other Purgers got impatient. A taller, blonde woman wearing a moth-themed mask grumbled and raised her weapon, “It’s no use. Let’s just find a weak spot and break in.” 

“Nooo! That’s so barbaric, we must treat a woman gently.” 

“We are quite literally, purging her home.” Another woman chimed in, this time a short woman with beige-colored hair wearing a doll mask. 

“Yes, but I would like her to respond before we break in.” The dove-mask pouts. 

“Enough.” Finally, the fourth woman spoke up, her posture and height intimidating as she stepped to the front. This time it was a woman wearing a harlequin mask, her gaze piercing through the camera. “We know you are listening, (Reader). It isn’t polite to keep your guests waiting.” 

She smirked at the camera, as if edging you to press the call button and respond. You felt as if your blood was being drained from your body, a morbid feeling of death looming over you like a cloud. You had no choice, if you didn’t respond they would just try and break in anyway, so perhaps it would be wise to try and convince them not to? 

You did not think that was plausible, but Purgers were still human. Maybe they will be human just for you… 

“C-Can I help you?” Fuckkkkk you did not mean to sound like a timid fast food worker working at the Drive Thru. You mentally cursed yourself as you watched the other four women smile at your compliance.

“There’s her cute voice!” The dove-mask exclaimed excitedly. “I was worried some other Purgers may have gotten to you already…” 

“Can I help you?” You stated again firmly, wanting them to leave as soon as possible. “If you’re looking to rob my house, I’m afraid I don’t have anything of value.” 

“Oh…sweetheart,” the harlequin-mask chuckled, sliding her hand across the handle of her bloody ax. “You’re in there.” 

Oh great. Yeah why bother spending the Purge robbing stuff that is actually useful to you, when you can murder people instead. Genius. 

“…Okay, I know what you are implying, but I beg of you not to kill me! I promise that after the Purge is over I will compensate for you all somehow. Whether it’d be money or anything else you’d like, I’ll do it!”

“Open those ears of yours, girl. We want you, not your house.” The moth-mask tsked, a bit of annoyance present on the edge of her voice. “We are coming in whether you like it or not. As long as you are inside, we will get in too.” 

“…No need to be so mean, Signora.” You heard the dove-mask huff, folding her arms. “Just hold tight, baby. We’re coming to find you~”

You let out a small, panicked squeak of terror and cut the mic, standing up from your seat and making your way to your drawer to check on the handgun you had stashed away. You couldn’t believe that this was the year you would have to use it, and your adrenaline was pulsing like crazy. 

‘All loaded’ you mentally prepared yourself for the worst, taking deep breaths and walking back to your computer monitors that displayed the cameras. You let out another panicked squeak when you saw that the Purgers had left your front porch, now scattered around your property doing god knows what. 

“Why this year of all years?” You whined, keeping your handgun close to you as you kept looking through the monitors. Okay, okay, they were just circling your house, no biggie. Their weapons appeared to be of class 1 only, so it would be next to impossible for them to break down your security systems. 

Really, though you were on edge, you should be relatively safe so long as the power doesn’t—

Almost as if your fate was being toyed at the hands of a God, your lights suddenly went out and the sound of your metal shutters started coming up. Oh…you were fucked now.

‘…I am dead.’ You wanted to scream, but knew better as it was time for survival. It was every woman for herself, no beating around the bush. Logistically you weren’t sure if you could take out four Purgers on your own, but if you were going to die tonight you were going to die fighting ugly. 

You heard one of your windows shatter and flinched when you heard footsteps now roaming the downstairs of your house. Okay, you got this. You technically have an advantage as you have a firearm and they don’t know where you are, you should play this safe. 

You held your breath and stealthily made your way downstairs, holding the gun. You saw the broken window in your living room, swallowing thickly before looking around to see if there was anyone around. Your eyes suddenly landed on a bloody trail that looked as if a body had been dragged through your house. Did they just kill someone? 

You suddenly heard a thud behind you and whirled around quickly, only to accidentally let out a gasp when you saw the dead body of your neighbor just lying there on your kitchen floor. You managed to hold in a scream, but it was no use when you felt strong arms hold you from behind, a yell escaping your throat as you felt one of the Purgers’ grip on you.

“Mm…not a screamer…quite the silent one, aren’t you?” You heard a rough, raspy voice as the woman behind you grabbed your gun and tore it away with ease. Just how strong was she?! Your breath hitched when you felt the sharp end of a knife press against your throat, her voice humming with pleasure. “I like quiet girls.”

From your peripheral vision you saw that it was the Purger with the harlequin mask, her hair mostly white with a few streaks of black, yet another person you were not familiar with. Footsteps then entered the kitchen from the thick fog of darkness, a giggle leaving another one of the Purgers. 

“You caught her! Heh, I guess you won this one, Arle~!” It was the Purger with the dove-mask, her cute and feminine voice not matching her appearance at all as her white dress was covered in blood. “I want to pet her!” 

“Wash your hands, Columbina.” Another voice came, this time it was the doll-masked Purger who came walking out of the darkness. “I don’t want you getting blood all over her. She’ll stink.” 

“A little blood won’t hurt her, Sandrone.” 

You whimpered when the woman named “Columbina” walked closer to you, her sadistic smile present as she ran her fingers across your cheek. You would flinch away if not for the harlequin mask —you believe she was called Arle?— holding you in place, her muscles tightening around you and preventing you from squirming. 

“Ah…how cute!” Columbina cooed. “I almost feel bad for scaring her, she looks like she’s about to cry.”

“She looks prettier that way.” Came a deeper, more mature voice, as the moth-masked woman —Signora, if you remembered correctly— came into view. You gulped when Signora strutted over to you and took your chin in her hand, admiring you from behind her mask and turning your face to look at all your angles. “Loosen your grip a bit, Arlecchino. The girl looks like she’s about to pass out from blood circulation.” 

Arlecchino let out a titular hum. “And why would I do that? If I let her go, she can run off.” 

“Not with us here. We all can catch her quite easily.” Sandrone said matter-of-factly. 

“I suppose that wouldn’t hurt.” Arlecchino leaned down and whispered gravely into your ear. “I don’t recommend running, little one. All four of us can hunt you down quite easily, and if you ran out into the open during the Purge, well…”

She chuckled and playfully blew on your ear. “Someone else might get to you before us.” 

Your body involuntarily shivered and you felt the back of your ear grow hot. Upon seeing how much of an impact she had on you, Arlecchino smirked and carefully let go of you. 

You should run. In fact, you weren’t sure why you were staying in place surrounded by these murderous women. Every instinct and sense of logic in your brain was telling you to make a run for it, but another part of you knew that it was fruitless to even make it out of your house. 

“You know, you should be thanking us.” Signora said coldly. “Without us here, you probably would’ve been murdered by that neighbor of yours.” 

“Wh-What?”

“Oh! She speaks…” Columbina giggled. “Believe it or not, we found him messing around with some circuit box in your yard. Looks like he was the one who knocked out the power to kill you himself.”

Your eyes landed on the body of your neighbor laying on the floor. His eyes still wide open like he was stuck in time, lips parted like was in the middle of screaming before meeting his bloody demise. “Of course…we took care of him for you! Wouldn’t want our pretty girl to get hurt.”

Columbina smiled and kicked his body away like it was nothing, looking up at you like they had just done a great thing. You kept looking between the Purgers and the dead body of your neighbor, unable to cope with the fact that this would be the first Purge where you might end up like another body bag. 

“…Is this where I get killed now?” You laughed weakly, cold sweat dripping down your face. “I…I’m not sure what else to do at this point, get on my knees and beg for my life?”

“Ooh. I like the kneeling and begging part.” Sandrone comments bluntly. Meanwhile, the other women chuckle at your pathetic display, with Arlecchino pulling you towards her and murmuring in your ear. 

“Oh, we aren’t interested in hurting you. At least not that much.” She suddenly slid her hands up your stomach and towards your breasts, a gasp leaving your lips when she fondled them through your shirt. ”…Soft.” 

“Easy now, Arlecchino. She hasn’t accepted yet.” Signora hums, gently pulling Arle’s eager hands away from your chest. Arlecchino slips out a small growl of dissatisfaction, but pulls away anyway to comply with Signora’s requests. Despite how refined Arlecchino seemed to be, you could tell she was a woman of a lot of restraint, and she had been itching to feel you up despite her calm demeanor. 

“If it wasn’t obvious by Arlecchino’s…desires,” Signora comments, stroking your face, “We want your body, but not in the way that you think.” 

“You’re just so pretty…especially when your bottom lip wobbles in fear,” Columbina whispers. “How could we not want you this way?”

Oh…oh.

Now you know why they haven’t killed you yet. 

“Look at her face, all dumb and bewildered.” Sandrone comments, the faintest of grins appearing on her face as she took in your confused expression. 

“What do you say, let us have some fun with you?” Arlecchino purrs from behind, making you shiver in anticipation and a little bit of curiosity. 

“…I suppose.” You said softly, a little hesitant to agree. 

“Oh my, what a promiscuous thing she is,” Signora comments, a sly smile making its way to her lips. “Wanting to take all four of us at the same time, what a whore.” 

“Easy now, Signora. She can’t help how curious she is.” Columbina smiles, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm. “Arle~ Be a dear and carry the poor lamb upstairs. The dead guy is killing the mood.”

“Of course.” Arlecchino grinned wolfishly and took you in her arms, throwing you over her shoulder like it was nothing while going up the stairs. You could only watch helplessly as the three other women followed after you, smiling at how utterly pathetic you looked while being carried by Arlecchino with one arm. 

…You weren’t sure how you got up to this point. One moment you were almost pissing your pants in fear, and the next you were suddenly thrown into your bed and surrounded by four Purgers. All of them stared down at you with a look of pure joy in their eyes, practically ravishing you on the bed with just their gaze alone. 

Surprisingly, it was Sandrone that made the first move. For as quiet as she was, the woman crawled on top of you and grabbed your face for herself, pulling you into a kiss. 

“Oh my! I didn’t expect Sandrone to be so eager…” Columbina giggled. Meanwhile, in the corner of your eye; you could see Arlecchino unzipping her pants and Signora taking off her gloves. 

You couldn’t watch them for long, however; as Sandrone forcefully pushed you back and shoved her tongue down your mouth, turning the kiss into a more seductive dance of tongues. The doll-masked woman moaned at the taste of you, pulling you in closer to her as she aggressively pushed her hands up your shirt. 

“Mm…what a sloppy kisser. I could tell you’ve never had another woman in your mouth before.” Sandrone pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your tongue with hers. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix that for you.” 

“Arle, no need to be so impatient. She’s still on the bed.” You heard Signora gently scold Arlecchino and looked over to see what she was doing. The harlequin woman was gritting her teeth and tugging her trousers off as fast as she could, the base of a harness and what looked to be a crimson-colored strap peeking through the gap of her zipper. 

Oh…they were prepared for this. 

“Hey. Don’t look at her, look at me.” Sandrone sounded annoyed and gripped your face to look at her again, pulling you in for a kiss. 

“Pfft. Sandrone is getting jealous.” You felt the bed space behind you dip, and in the midst of making out with Sandrone, you felt Columbina’s lithe and petite body encircle yours. “Let’s see how good you taste.” 

Columbina’s lips latched onto the back of your neck, sucking and nibbling on your skin hard enough to leave a few bruises. The choked whimpers you let out made the dove-mask and doll-mask moan with pleasure, Sandrone pulling you more against herself while Columbina grinded her hips from behind. 

As Sandrone’s hands fondled your breasts under your shirt, you felt something small yet hard growing under Columbina’s dress. It was clear the two women were getting heavily turned on, with how Sandrone was starting to tug off your shirt and Columbina grinding faster against you. 

“Let’s put that sloppy tongue to use.” Sandrone comments bluntly, lowering you down against the bed as she raises her dress to pull off her panties. Columbina takes her position between your legs, pulling your pants off and eagerly wanting to stuff her face in your cunt. “No teeth now. Try to be a good girl.” Sandrone slides her panties off and spreads her legs over your awaiting mouth, using her fingers to give you quite the show of her sweet pussy glistening with juices. The doll-masked woman didn’t wait for another second and took her place at her rightful seat, letting you taste the sweet tang of her cunt smothering your lips. 

Meanwhile, Columbina was eagerly pulling your own panties down with her hands, her tongue —which was freakishly long— swiped at her bottom lip the moment she saw your bare entrance. “Mm…Gotta make sure you’re wet enough to take Arle’s strap.” She whispered, parting your legs gently –though her nails were digging into your thighs– and licking a long stripe across your clit. 

“Nnnh–!” You moaned into Sandrone’s own clit, causing her to buck her hips needily. “Fuck…her tongue feels so good.” 

“I can only imagine,” Columbina coos, smothering her face deeper and darting her hot tongue out quickly. Her hands trailed down to her dress and began lightly jerking herself off while she ate you out, moaning into your thighs as she ravished your insides. You hadn’t expected to be double teamed so easily, but you didn’t mind, eating out Sandrone and tasting her folds more thoroughly while Columbina masturbated to the taste of you. 

“Are you– mmppgh…guys ready?” Sandrone moans out sweetly, riding your face harder as she looks back at Arlecchino and Signora. Both women had stripped out of their festive Purger outfits, with Arlecchino wearing nothing but a thick, girthy strapon and Signora dressed in the prettiest lingerie you had ever seen. “Oh come on Signora, that’s– fuck, overkill for the Purge, isn’t it?” 

“The girl likes it.” Signora tuts, casting you a smirk beneath her mask. “Is she wet enough, Columbina?” 

“Nope!” Columbina pulls her head away from between your thighs, her face smeared in all your juices while your thighs are left a trembling mess. 

“Liar.”

“She needs to be wetter! Let me eat her out more!”

“Columbina.” Arlecchino finally makes her presence known, crawling over to the bed and pulling her hair back, forcefully pulling her away from your cunt. Columbina whined and gave Arlecchino a glare, not quite finished with eating you out yet. “Arle, I said she needed to be wetter.”

You couldn’t believe you had four women in your bed, all fighting for you during the Purge. You would voice your concerns if not for Sandrone still whining and grinding on your face so roughly. Though the woman was a small, seemingly gentle woman, it was obvious she was one of the more desperate ones of the group. 

“Suck on her tits or something. I want her tight cunt swallowing my strap.” Arlecchino growled, possessively stroking your thigh while Columbina huffed. “Fine.” She gave your inner thigh one last bite, causing you to jolt and accidentally make Sandrone come from the sudden movement. 

“Oh– nnngh!” Sandrone’s little legs trembled greatly, her orgasm washing over her as she ground her hips more firmly. The sweet, succulent taste of her cum washed down your throat, making your eyes flutter shut in how good Sandrone tasted. “Was her tongue game that good, Sandrone?” Columbina purred, suddenly taking an interest in your mouth. “Yeah, her movements are amateaur at best, but somehow feel really good?” 

“Heh, good enough for me.” Columbina proceeded to shove Sandrone off and take her place, dangling her small, yet very eager cock in front of your lips. “Let’s get those pretty lips sucking me off, hm?” She smiled and caressed your cheek before slipping her tip inside, watching with satisfaction as you took all of her length so easily. Meanwhile, Arlecchino and Signora were more occupied on your raw pussy, which was twitching with need after being neglected for too long. Signora cooed and pressed a teasing kiss to your clit, lightly blowing on it before rising to focus on your breasts. 

“Poor baby is feeling neglected up here, huh?” She teased, the blonde woman leaning in to lick a long stripe across your tits before latching one nipple in her mouth. She took pleasure in the way your back arched off the bed, the Fair Lady’s tongue swirling around hungrily as her fingers swirled around your clit. “Give me some lube, Arle. I want to finger her for a bit before you start.” 

You heard the sound of growl before Arlecchino reluctantly obliged. “Make it quick, I want to fold her into the mattress myself.” She gave Signora a bottle of lube and you could only moan when you felt the Fair Lady’s cold fingers circle your entrance with a slimy substance coating them. When you moaned however, you choked on Columbina’s cock, causing her to groan and buck her hips. “Goodness her throat is…quite tight.”

Signora chuckled at that and pressed her fingers deeper into your entrance, watching with great pleasure as they sunk in with little to no resistance. “And quite wet. You did a good job of loosening her up, Columbina.” Signora proceeded to finger you to see just how far you could take her. Her fingers –which were very long and thin– stretching you out and brushing up against all your tender spots to see which ones would make you squirm. 

As this was happening, you felt Columbina’s tiny cock start twitching in your mouth, signaling that she was getting close. Unable to keep your moans to yourself, you stifled a small whine and traced the underside of her shaft with your tongue, watching as her face made all sorts of lewd expressions. “Oh f-fu– I’m gonna come…” she whimpered, riding your face faster before shooting a hot load down your throat and throwing her head back. 

“Oh? What a good girl, making two of us orgasm already.” Signora hummed, pulling her fingers out and licking them clean. “I guess it’s time to get to the main event now.” 

Columbina tiredly got off you and went to join Sandrone, who was lying blissfully on the bed and watching how you took the final two women. The taste of sex and cum lingered on the back of your tongue, yet you were now hooked. You gazed at Arlecchino who had been waiting impatiently at the foot of the bed, stroking her fat strap and making sure you saw. 

“Hold her down, Signora.” Arlecchino commanded, watching as you were manhandled to switch positions. No longer were you lying flat on your back, as you were now sat up against Signora with her chest against your back, bare breasts and stomach pressed against your skin and making you shiver. “Such a good girl, letting us manhandle you as we please…” Signora’s deep, husky voice whispered in your ear, her hands making their way down to your thighs and keeping them spread for Arlecchino. “Have fun with her, Arle.” 

Arlecchino didn’t need to be told twice. She crawled on top of you and angled her strap to brush against your entrance. Her eyes narrowed as she saw how needy your pussy was after going through three women, seeing how twitchy and puffy it was. “You three really did a number on her.” She mumbled, brushing the tip of her strap between your folds. When you trembled and let out a gasp at the feeling, both Arle and Signora smirked, with Signora trailing her hands down to pull your folds apart. 

“Do your worst. She wants it.” 

Arlecchino grinned and sandwiched you against Signora, slowly pushing her strap into you and watching as you were speared open on her faux cock. “Fuck– she’s tight still…” She grumbled, enjoying the way your pussy gripped the silicone so roughly. 

“Well you did buy a girthy one.” Sandrone says matter-of-factly. 

“I know, but she seems to enjoy it anyways.” Arlecchino laughed wolfishly and continued to spear you open while your cunt struggled to accommodate her girth. You had never felt so full before when taking a toy, letting out sweet whimpers as the smallest beads of tears formed at your lashes. 

“Oh, don’t cry…” Signora hummed behind you, licking your tears away. “It’ll feel so good soon~”

The harlequin let out a grunt as she pushed her hips further, watching as her strap finally nestled itself comfortably inside you. She could see the slightest bit of arousal pool at the base of her strap, and that only spurred her on more, starting to thrust at a shallow pace. You threw your head back against Signora’s shoulder, feeling her soft lips press kisses on your tear-dotted face. Arlecchino was just so deep, filling your insides on just her girth alone while she thrusted. 

“My…what a peculiar sight.” Arlecchino chuckled, her eyes filled with pure desire as she saw you trembling beneath her. Your legs pathetically squirming yet being held down, clearly overstimulated now that you had to go through the fourth Purger. 

“I haven’t even bottomed out yet.” She smiled wickedly, pinning you in place while she nearly folded you in half. If not for Signora sitting there behind you, you were sure she would have pushed you into a full on mating press into the mattress. “Hold her tighter, I’m going all in.” 

Every woman in the room watched with interest as Arlecchino took a deep breath and slowly inched herself deeper until your cunt hit her harness. With each inch, you felt a loud whine rip through you, the fat tip of Arle’s strap pushing against your walls and forming a slight belly bulge. “Oh my…” Signora’s eyes glazed over with lust, trailing her hand up to rest atop the bulge. “Look how deep you are in her, Arle.” 

“How cuteee!” Columbina cooed. “I wanna give her a belly bulge too!”

“Maybe another time. The poor girl looks as if she’ll pass out after this round.” 

All four women leered at you hungrily before Arlecchino pulled out and slammed back in. They took great pleasure in watching Arle ravage your insides, wet smacks filling the air as your expressions formed into even lewder ones. Signora looked the most ecstatic, her hand gently pushing down on the bulge each time Arle bottomed out and thrusted back into you. 

The extra force of Signora pushing down on your stomach and Arlecchino fucking you like an animal was almost too much to handle. Each punctuated thrust of Arlecchino’s hips made your poor body bounce rather weakly, your legs scrambling to pull away from Signora’s grip and latch around the harlequin’s waist. 

“She’s getting close. I can feel it…” Arlecchino growled, craving to see your cum form a ring around her base. “Come for me…I know you can do it.” 

She held onto your ankle and gave it a small kiss, looking down at you as you writhed around like a worm. The way your leg twitched and the tears trailed down your face was enough to make all the girls swoon over you harder. You were just too cute, they were glad they broke in to get you. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you felt your pussy tense up before cumming all over Arlecchino’s strap. The harlequin groaned at the sight and started thrusting even faster, going feral at the sight of your cum drenching her faux cock and helping you ride out your orgasm. The other woman in the room giggled at the sight of you reduced to a whining, babbling mess, Arlecchino finally pulling out and admiring how soaked you made her strap. 

“Goddamn…” she grunted, dropping your legs to the bed and watching as you collapsed against Signora, too tired to even keep your eyes open. 

“Look at her, barely able to stay awake.” Sandrone comments, gently massaging one of your thighs. “We really did a number on her.” 

“Awww, I really wanted to fuck her too.” Columbina pouts, tracing the hickies and bite marks the women left on your body.

“Maybe when she wakes up. For now, let’s let the poor girl rest.” Signora gently caressed your cheek and gave you a small kiss. “Close your eyes, little one. We will keep you safe throughout the rest of the Purge.” 

Arlecchino crawls up to join you by your side, pulling you against her while all the other women adjust to snuggle around you, essentially turning this into one big cuddle pile. “Rest well,” Arlecchino whispers huskily, your eyes growing heavier as you bask in the embrace of the four Purgers who broke into your home, yet showed you the best way to celebrate the gory holiday.

“Happy Purge.” 

[gutsby]

I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Pairing: Reader x Detective Dixon x Officer Grimes x Officer Walsh

Summary: Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Warnings: NSFW. Foursome! :-) Unprotected p-in-v, spitroast, double penetration, overstimulation, praise and degradation, bimbofication, throatfucking, painal, breeding kink, using c*m as lube, and a (consensual) strugglefuck. Elements of dubcon à la power imbalance and coercion. Age gap. Public indecency, evading arrest, assault on two cops, and general drunken stupidity.

“Goooooood morning, babycakes!”

Your best friend rolled the hem of her shirt over her chest and shimmied her shoulders at the big white semi truck about to pass under the bridge. The stranger at the wheel took one look at the woman’s tits and almost swerved across two lanes of traffic. The sight sent you and your drunken group howling with laughter, falling onto the ground as Maggie yanked her top back down.

It was five a.m. and freezing. The club where you’d been boozing all night had long since shuttered closed, and you and your closest friends from high school—home for the holidays and happily plastered—had gone wandering home in a daze. When one of the girls had stopped suddenly at the midsection of a bridge, you hadn’t been able to keep from sharing her smile the second she’d grinned and said, ‘For old time’s sake?’

In no time at all, you’d been lined up along the metal railing and ogling the unsuspecting drivers down below. The freeway was mostly empty at this hour, save for a couple tractor trailers and early morning commuters, but that didn’t matter.

Rosita was up next. You watched her eye an RV as it bumbled down the road and saw her take hold of her shirt just like Maggie had. Then, right when the camper got close enough, the brunette bent slightly at the waist, flipped her top up, and screamed at the top of her lungs:

“HEY BIG RED!”

A big, buff dude with a bright red handlebar mustache looked up from the passenger seat, as did the white-haired, bearded gentleman wearing a bucket hat beside him. The pair then watched your friend’s roadside spectacle with shared looks of wonder and awe, before passing under the bridge as slow as they possibly could. Rosita staggered off the ledge and reached for the flask in your hand, heedless of her breasts still hanging out.

“Your turn,” she chirped before taking a swig.

Your feet were already wobbling onto the concrete slab. From your vantage point, the outline of the sun was just then breaking out across the tops of the trees, casting the morning’s first rays across your bare skin. You stretched your arms out wide, Titanic-style, and basked in the warmth—likely looking drunk as all hell as you did.

“Ooo, this one, this one!” Maggie cut in presently.

You followed your friend’s gaze and caught sight of a sleek, glistening firetruck speeding down the road.

Perfect, you thought as your eyes soaked in the sight. You pictured the truck packed to the gills with hot and sweaty firemen inside, and your fingers itched at the bottom of your shirt. Curled under the fabric and ready to lift as soon as the time came. Even from a distance, you could make out a tiny cluster of uniformed men at the helm, each of their faces contorted with curiosity.

The truck sped up and drew closer. Maggie squeezed your hip, Rosita chewed her lip, and together, you all stared the firetruck down with bated breath until it was just about to go under the bridge.

In a blink, you flipped your shirt up and shook your tits back and forth for the men going by. Much to your surprise, the firefighter in the driver’s seat honked his horn a couple times, and another one, at the rear, stuck his grinning head out the window and waved.

You, Maggie, and Rosita waved right back, practically falling over each other in fits of laughter as you yelled,

“Call me, daddy!”

The three of you collapsed on the sidewalk in a heap of shitfaced hysterics. Rosita flung your flask to the side and smacked you playfully across your boobs—still out and proud and likely able to cut diamonds with how hard your nipples had gotten in the chilly morning air.

“Daddy?!” she wheezed, “You skank!”

You straightened up, partially splayed across Maggie’s lap, and wiggled your shoulders once more, feigning that high-pitched, ditzy voice you used whenever you were hammered,

“Daddy please fuck my titties, I’ve been such a bad girl!”

Then you gave the best porn star moan you could muster and started to pull your shirt the rest of the way off. Not thinking, you balled up the light pink fabric and threw it up in the air while Rosita cheered—‘Tits out for the girls!’—and Maggie almost pissed herself laughing. Really anything would’ve had your sides fit to split at this point, seeing how faded and adrenaline-drunk you were.

You reached up and waited for the top to fall back into your hand...until it didn’t. You cast a sweeping look across the three of you to see if your shirt had landed somewhere else, but the garment was nowhere in sight.

You turned and craned your neck to see over the railing.

“Shit!”

You scrambled to your feet and gripped the metal siding of the bridge, tits fully out and exposed to the world. You watched as an old Ford Ranger picked up speed and crushed the scrap of fabric under its tires, before the driver, in turn, gawked and honked his horn like a fool.

Just as you started to turn back to tell your friends the bad news—and beg them for a piece of spare clothing to cover you—a sound startled you all.

The short, sharp yelp of a siren straight ahead.

Your hands flew to cover your chest while Maggie and Rosita went floundering over each other trying to get up. A few yards away, a police cruiser had pulled up to the side of the bridge with its lights flashing bright red and blue.

Shit, again, seemed to be the resounding sentiment among you three as the car started inching closer.

“Stop right there!” a voice boomed over the PA system.

That only prompted your group to take off running.

You, cradling your tits in both hands, and Rosita and Maggie trying desperately not to trip over the curb, the wayside trash, or each other as they raced down the street.

Two car doors flew open. Then, the sound of that same voice, breaking out across the still morning air without the aid of the intercom and telling you to freeze right now, followed by the sound of footsteps. Boots thudded heavy on the ground below, moving fast and with purpose. Both pairs easily gained on your three retreating forms in a matter of seconds.

Maggie and Rosita were already leaps and bounds ahead of you. Too busy juggling your tits and struggling to breathe, you felt your heart sink.

Rosita shot a look over her shoulder and cried, ‘C’mon!’ as she eyed the cops coming closer.

I’m trying, you wanted to say, but couldn’t speak. Your chest was too tight, pupils blown wide with fear.

This was not the fucking time to be having a panic attack. But here you were.

Before you could stop yourself, you waved a frantic hand to your friends and somehow managed to scream, ‘Go!’

The girls slowed, tried to urge you forward, but, sensing that you weren’t keeping up and wanted them to go on without you, relented at last. They bounded off toward a side street and disappeared down an alley while you felt your legs start to falter beneath you.

“Freeze!” the voice bellowed again. Loud, gruff, and much closer to your ear than it had been before.

You did as he said, not because you wanted to, but because you had to, then, or your body would’ve given out. Still in the grips of terror and rampant intoxication, you stopped in your tracks, spun on your heels, and watched the two officers sprint toward you.

You started to raise your hands in surrender, but just when one of them approached—presumably to tackle you to the ground—your instincts took over. You scarcely knew what you were doing; you just felt your leg lift with the last bit of strength you had left, then, astonishingly, deliver a kick straight to the first man’s gut.

To the shock of you, the cop, and his partner, the man went tumbling backward. Fell straight on the pavement in almost comical fashion and grunted in pain.

“Rick!” the dark-haired one yelled reflexively.

His gaze darted back to you in an instant.

You knew you were capital F fucked. You didn’t bother trying to run and simply stared at the man left standing in a mixture of horror and dread as he charged straight at you.

Your flight response abandoned, you had only to fight. And, by the looks of your opponent, you sensed this motherfucker knew how to tussle.

Before you could even prime yourself for another kick, the cop had taken you down with one lunge. Pinned you flat on the asphalt and yelled right in your face,

“I said don’t move!”

You moved. You moved in his arms while he wrestled you to the sidewalk, snaked his hand around your front, pressed your back against his chest. You moved when he barked his orders once more, told you to get down now and stop resisting, and even wrapped his arm around your throat to force your compliance.

Chokehold’s illegal, asshole, you thought, fighting hard against his grasp. This cop played dirty, and appeared to give no fucks about who could see.

Just as his grip started to tighten around your neck, you heard the other officer back on his feet, talking sharply into his radio:

“Code 10-33. Requesting backup on Fayette Bridge.”

At the same time, the man above you was trying to shake his head, craning his neck to get his partner’s attention.

“Nah, nah, Rick, I got her!”

When ‘Rick’ didn’t seem to hear and kept shouting into the receiver, the burly cop turned his body to the side, squeezing your neck even tighter.

“Rick!” he called, “I got her right here, she’s— FUCK!”

Suddenly, the man’s voice broke off in a strangled yelp as you sank your teeth into the flesh of his arm. When he loosened his grip out of instinct, stinging with pain, you made a desperate attempt to slip from his grasp and get back on your hands and knees.

The freshly bitten cop just slammed you even harder on the ground, unleashing a string of expletives in your ear.

“Fuck you, pig!” you screamed back.

You weren’t sure what had come over you in the few short moments preceding this one—what had irked you so terribly to be inclined to kick one cop in the stomach and bite another on the arm like a feral cat—but there you went. Face down on the pavement with a set of handcuffs being clipped over your wrists.

You winced when you were jerked back onto your feet, the cop’s left hand on your shoulder and the other at your back. He shoved you to take your first steps forward, you instinctively told him to eat shit and die, and as a grim, unsavory unit, you walked toward the officer with his grip still fastened tight to his radio.

“You alright?” Rick asked, out of breath.

His gaze seared right through you to his partner—whose face, you could sense, was already beset with a scowl.

“Bitch bit me,” he spat.

You saw Rick’s expression change, watched his mouth move to speak again, when a sound crackled out of the receiver in his hand. A couple code words and street names you couldn’t make out.

“That’s— that’s alright, now, Officer Walsh has the subject restrained,” Rick returned hastily.

At present, Mr. Walsh had his thumb dug deep in your back, ostensibly holding tight to keep you subdued but more than likely just being an ass. He felt you flinch and gave you a fierce shake.

“Quit squirmin’, girl.”

“Quit pinchin’ me, pig!”

“You’d best watch that fuckin’ mouth’a yours.”

The voice above your ear had you easily outmatched in volume and tone, coarse as it was unkind.

You decided to try your luck anyway.

“Make me, pussy.”

The last thing you saw was the look of bewilderment leap to Rick’s face as Walsh thrust you forward, suddenly, and slammed you face-down on the hood of their car.

“What’d I say ‘bout that fuckin’ mouthin’ off?! Huh?”

“Shane—”

Rick grabbed this Shane’s shoulder in an effort to intervene. Tried prying him off before he could shove you down any harder, but his partner seemed adamant. Shane put his palm over the side of your head and knotted his fingers through your hair, quick to pull.

“Nah, man, I ain’t takin’ lip from some halfwit bimbo—”

“Hey!” you started, only to have your words muffled with your head forced back on the hood.

“Shane!” Rick snapped this time, taking a harder grip of his shirt and yanking him back. To your dismay, Shane kept a chunk of your hair clenched in his fist and probably dislodged a dozen or more strands when he was pulled away.

You let out a gentle groan as your head hit the car for a third time and the two officers broke off in a skirmish.

“You heard what Dixon said,” Rick hissed.

“Fuck what Dixon said!”

“You cain’t just— you got no right—”

“I got every right, man, lemme tell you sumn’—”

Before Shane could ‘tell you’ much of anything, though, the two were rendered silent by the sound of tires on pavement close by. A halt, a tense moment, a car door swinging open and closed, and a whisper passed quickly from Rick to Shane as the two exchanged a look,

“You fucked up.”

You tried tilting your head up toward the windshield to sneak a look in its reflection, maybe see who was coming. You couldn’t make out a thing.

Then, presently, the voice of a much more hushed, humbler Officer Walsh as he spoke,

“Detective Dixon, how’s it—”

“Six bucks.” Another man, presumably Dixon, cut in.

“Huh?”

“Six bucks fer this fuckin’ coffee. Tastes like dirt.”

Oh, uh, yeah, you could just sense Shane shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he searched for the right words to say, maybe scratched his head once or twice. Fortunately for him, Rick came to the rescue.

“Tried that new place on Main, huh?”

“Nic and Norman’s, yeah. Eggs were runny as shit an’ the waitress kept callin’ me ‘Dale’,” the man, now presumably Dixon but not Dale, said in a huff.

It was as if you weren’t lying flat on your tummy with your top off and your hands cuffed behind your back. You stupidly hoped the new man hadn’t noticed you.

“Well who’ve we got here?”

Shit.

You heard footsteps approach, but you didn’t turn your head. Your lungs expelled a small, shaky breath as this detective came by and stood inches from your bent form.

“She and her friends were flashing their tits to the cars passing under the bridge,” Shane declared, a touch too smug as he said it, “The others got away, but this one was sweet enough to grace us with her presence.”

“Kicked me in the stomach and knocked me on my ass,” Rick added.

“Bit me, too.”

You heard a low tsk-tsk as the detective clicked his tongue. Took another sip of his mud-flavored espresso and shook his head above you. Your skin burned with the imprint of his gaze.

“Spring break come a little late this year?” he teased.

“Fuck you,” you muttered.

The men let out a collective chuckle at your tart words. You could just picture the smirks and sly glances shared between them as they watched you writhe against the hood of the police cruiser and try not to give them the satisfaction of seeing your breasts splayed out underneath you.

You were ashamed, admittedly, unsure of how to proceed with three cops at your rear and few options at your disposal besides swearing up a storm. At last, you decided to shift your gaze in their direction and shoot them a glare—more of an empty threat than any real message, but you didn’t care.

You turned and immediately wished you hadn’t.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“Daryl?!”

This time, Rick and Shane were the only ones to laugh out loud, before quickly stifling the sounds when they realized their superior hadn’t shown a hint of amusement.

Daryl Dixon, the detective, and your brother’s best friend from college, stared down at you with a look of horror.

“Y/N,” he stammered, in shock.

It was clear he was trying with every fiber of his being not to look down at your tits, but his resolve was only so strong. Finally, he settled on looking away, fast, and staring off in the distance while you readjusted yourself.

“Been a minute,” he said, trying for a curt, awkward nod.

And a minute it had been. The last time you’d laid eyes on the man had been at a Christmas party hosted by your brother and his husband four years ago. You’d exchanged all of ten words in polite, drunken pleasantries, and he’d stumbled off at the end of the night with a gorgeous redhead dressed as Mrs. Clause. You hadn’t heard hide nor hair of him since.

For a moment, Rick’s eyes danced indeterminately between you two. Shane’s remained fixed on your face.

“You know this little hellion, Detective?”

Daryl cleared his throat.

“Yeah, uh, that’s— that’s Aaron’s little sister.”

“No shit?”

The words came out faster than Shane could think to stop them. Your hometown was no great metropolis, and even he knew of your brother through a friend-of-a-friend and several cousins’ babysitter’s grandma’s Aunt Carol, or some similar relation. He and Rick had probably partied at your lake house a couple times in college.

“Uncuff her.” Daryl’s voice had already lowered some, pacing away to give you privacy.

Shane obliged and freed you from the handcuffs. When you turned around, only the back of Daryl’s body was visible to you as he ducked inside the backseat of his car.

He returned a few moments later with a blanket. Tried his damndest not to let his vision stray an inch from your face as he handed it to you. Then he beckoned Rick over, and the two exchanged a few quiet words by his sedan.

“You got rabies or anything?” Shane was eyeing the tiny crescent of teeth marks on his forearm.

You rolled your eyes.

“Worse. I’m one of those walkers.”

Shane gave you a look that conveyed he was just as annoyed but didn’t say anything more, even when you made a face at him. He just crossed his arms, leaned back against the squad car, and gritted his teeth. Before you knew it, Daryl and Rick were walking back.

“I’ll take her to the station,” Daryl said.

“Alri—”

“What?” you cried, “For what?!”

You knew for damn what. You just couldn’t believe your brother’s best friend wasn’t planning on giving you a family friend freebie of some kind.

Officer Walsh supplied an answer for you nonetheless, “Let’s see, now: public intoxication, public indecency, open container, and aggravated assault on two police officers. That clear things up, sweet cheeks?”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“Disorderly conduct, too,” Rick chimed in. Trying not to smile as he said it.

The only ones still not amused by anything this situation had to offer were you and Daryl. The detective looked positively pissed and ready to chuck his cup of coffee over the bridge, while you wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ether. The two of you exchanged a brief, uneasy look and quickly looked the other way.

Rick and Shane were already retreating to their cruiser. You just watched them, almost forlorn, and pretended not to see Daryl signaling for you to follow him.

“C’mon now,” he murmured.

“Can’t you just let me off with a warning?”

Daryl was treading closer to you now, hand outstretched in an almost gentle sort of gesture. Like he wasn’t about to cart you off to the slammer.

“Y’know I can’t do tha’,” he replied, “With all the fuss ya caused, Captain would have my head.”

When you wrenched your arm away from his grasp, you saw him frown.

“Hey,” Daryl said, a little more sternly now, “Don’t make this harder than it needs ta be.”

You watched him reach for you again.

Your first instinct was to shrug him off. Your second was to flee.

You weren’t sure why you even tried it—it just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment, like they did in the movies, to take off sprinting down the street. You gave it a shot.

Unfortunately for you, your feet didn’t carry you far, and Daryl had you snagged in his arms in about five seconds flat. You glanced to the first cop car and saw that Rick and Shane hadn’t even stirred from their seats. Just grinning and laughing at your attempted escape.

Detective Dixon had you by the bicep now, leading you toward his car with a little more force in his step. You were cursing, writhing, fighting every effort of his to corral you into the backseat, but, without much trouble, he pushed you in.

Rear doors locking automatically, you had little more to do than sit and pout and feel every bit the brat as Daryl buckled himself in and started the car.

“C’mon, Dar, this isn’t a joke. I could lose my job ‘cause of this,” you whined, threading your fingers through the wired metal barricade that separated you.

Daryl watched and waited for the other cruiser to fall behind him. Then he started off.

“Shoulda thought about tha’ before ya decided to show yer tits off ta the world, no?”

“Like four people saw us.”

In the rearview mirror, you could’ve sworn you saw a ghost of a smile cross Daryl’s lips.

“I got a pretty colorful phone call from a man named Eugene saying he saw three girls danglin’ half nekkid from a bridge tryin’ ta flag down a firetruck...Don’t sound all that discreet to me.” Daryl shrugged, pretending not to see you slump back in your seat.

“We were drunk!” you cried.

You threw your hands up and let them fall at your side, while Daryl made a wide left turn.

“So?”

“You’ve done plenty of dumb shit when you were drunk, Dixon. Don’t even start.” You raised your hand like you were talking to your mother as an angsty teen. The man in the driver’s seat hardly seemed fazed.

“Oh?”

You paused a beat, then jolted back up as an old memory stirred in your mind.

“Like— like the time you got so shitfaced on senior night that you stumbled into my room thinking it was the bathroom,” you said, hastily, “Pissed all over my floor.”

Daryl’s eyes darted up to meet yours in the mirror, sharing in that vague and ugly recollection from his college days.

“That was yer room?” he winced.

“I was twelve and terrified,” you said, hovering as close as the metal wall would allow you, “Didn’t even know what being piss-drunk meant until you decided to relieve yourself all over my Barbie rug.”

“Ah shit...I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Let me out and we’ll call it even?” you ventured.

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl said, shaking his head, “Not how that works.”

You balled your hand in a fist and struck the wall between you, an exasperated sigh escaping your lips. Try as you might to fight it, you were still slightly buzzed and far more prone to anger than you normally would be. Daryl gave you a look.

“Pipe down, princess, ‘s’ain’t the end of the world.”

“And who the fuck are you to say?” you snapped, clenching your jaw.

Daryl pressed a bit harder on the brakes as he brought the car to a stop at a red light. Then he shot a look over his shoulder. His brow drew in just slightly.

“Yer a real brat, ya know that?”

“Really, pig?” you sneered.

“Yeah, slut.”

Your mouth fell open at the sound of Daryl’s first real insult. He’d been all placid smiles and gentle eyes, never lapsing in the civility of his rank or his respect for you, his close friend’s sister, until that point. You watched as his gaze visibly hardened and moved away from yours, foot hitting the gas when the light turned green.

“What did you just call me?”

“A fucking slut. ‘Cause tha’s what ya are,” Daryl answered, not missing a beat.

Had he lost his fucking mind? Who did he think he was? The man carried on, starting to increase the car’s speed,

“Nobody’s showin’ off a pair’a tits that damn pretty ‘less they’re a whore, ya know?”

You sat back in awe, hardly aware of the cruiser’s growing acceleration, or the fact that Daryl was just then starting to turn down a road you—and Rick and Shane—had never seen before. You were too offended. Flustered.

“Excuse m—”

“Yeah, I looked. You’ve got an incredible rack, really,” Daryl admitted as he cut you off, “Too bad it’s attached to such a worthless little slut.”

“Get fucked, Dixon,” you hissed, beating your fist against the divider once more.

“Oh, believe me, we will.”

Your blood likely would’ve run cold in your veins if you had the first clue what he was talking about. What did he mean by ‘we’? Why had he started smiling when he’d said that?

Presently, you looked out the window.

Where the everliving fuck had he taken you?

Instead of finding yourself parked outside the King County Sheriff’s Department, as expected, you cast a sidelong glance to the left and the right and saw nothing but trees. Wilderness. You were parked in a clearing, at what appeared to be a campground...in a quarry?

You turned back to Daryl, suddenly rigid with fear.

The driver’s side door was already slamming shut behind him. Instead of deigning so much as a glance at the back, he strode right past you and went over to the car that had just pulled up. Rick and Shane appeared just as confused as you were as they came to a stop.

You watched them, dumbstruck, pulse pounding in your ears as a hundred different thoughts danced in your mind and grew progressively darker the longer you stared. Were they going to torture you? Kill you? Cuff you to the car and kick the living shit out of you until you bled from the mouth and begged them for mercy?

There was no way the drunken fratboy of your youth, now a detective on the police force and your brother’s best friend, would do something so heinous, right?

You slinked back in your seat when you saw all three men turn and approach your car.

Now, more than ever, there was no place but the police car you wanted to be as Daryl flung the back door open and stuck his head inside.

“Hey,” he grinned, “Wanna talk?”

Before you knew it, your feet were planted on the rocky terrain directly in front of Daryl’s car, and your hands were clasped together. Not cuffed this time—just folded and trying to look as polite and unassuming as possible.

“We’ve got a proposition,” Daryl started, steady.

You watched him pace back and forth while the two other officers stood back in silence. Shane wore the faintest smirk.

“You don’t wanna go to jail, right?”

You shook your head no.

“Good, ‘cause we don’t really feel like bookin’ ya,” Daryl continued, “Too much paperwork an’ all tha’ bullshit.”

You nodded along, slowly. Relieved to hear you weren’t getting arrested but waiting to see what the ‘But…’ was.

“But, y’know— it wouldn’t be fair to let ya go that easy.”

You kept nodding. Now looking at Shane and Rick and finding both of them smiling.

“So I say we make ourselves a deal. That okay with you, sugar tits?” Daryl sneered.

You balked at the name but swallowed your pride and answered, ‘Uh huh’ in a small voice. Squeezed your hands even tighter together.

Daryl approached you for the first time. You stood there, trembling, still thinking there was a chance that the three of them might just beat the hell out of you right then and there—and you flinched when Daryl lifted his hand to your cheek.

He brushed a few loose hairs from your face.

“I think you need to start by saying sorry.” His voice was almost serene.

You blinked a couple times up at Daryl with wide, oblivious eyes, shaking your head when you didn’t understand what he meant.

“To Shane,” Daryl added.

Softly, he tilted your chin toward his friend, who was grinning even bigger now.

You struggled for a second, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before stammering:

“I-I’m sorry, Shane.”

Your voice barely reached them in a whisper. You were so confused.

And, just as you started to wonder if that was all they really wanted, or if there’d be some other catch, Daryl decided to supply you with a wordless answer before you could even ask. The “catch” caught you right on the backs of your legs as Daryl gave them a gentle kick, causing both to buckle underneath you. You fell to the ground on your hands and knees and straightened yourself up just in time to see Shane make his leisurely approach.

“I’m sorry, Shane,” you spluttered again, thinking he just wanted you to grovel there in front of him.

Daryl and Shane exchanged looks. Then they smirked at you.

“I think Shane would rather you show him how sorry you are,” Daryl said, suddenly leaning over to collect two handfuls of hair behind your head, “With your mouth.”

At any other time, such condescension dripping from a man’s tone would have turned you off—and pissed you off—immediately. With Daryl and Shane standing over you now, the former’s fingers slotting through your hair and the latter’s working to unzip his pants, you couldn’t imagine yourself being any more aroused.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, all at once.

They were there to fuck you, not fight you.

At least not in the way you’d imagined anyway. No doubt Shane was keen to get his fill, and might be a tad more aggressive than the others to get it, but Daryl would make sure he didn’t push too hard. He held your head in place while Shane pulled out his cock.

And, you hated to say it, but your mouth was salivating for a taste. You couldn’t be bothered to look up at either man now, just soaking in the sight of Shane’s thick, veiny member and feeling your face being moved closer to it. Not minding you were being manhandled as a gentle moan escaped your throat.

“Wanna show Shane how sorry ya are? Show him how good tha’ slutty little mouth’a yers can make him feel?” Daryl hummed.

“She’s droolin’, man,” Shane said, hardening at the sight.

You were. You couldn’t help it. You felt a thumb swipe at the spit that had just begun to trickle out of your mouth and sensed Rick at your side, enthralled as all the rest of them. Then that same finger drifted down to your tits, smearing the moisture all over one nipple before pinching the peak between two digits.

Your lips parted with another small whimper at the sensation, and Shane took that as his window to thrust his cock in your mouth. Caught off guard, you couldn’t help but gag when his tip hit the back of your throat, but Daryl steered your head back just in time so you weren’t choking on that first, single stroke.

“Easy, easy,” Daryl chided his friend as he watched your eyes water and your hand reach up to steady yourself against Shane’s thigh.

“You kiddin’? She fuckin’ loves it,” Shane grinned, “Don’t you, slut?”

You licked your lips and nodded. Didn’t bat an eye when Shane brought the head of his cock back down to your lips, and you quickly enveloped him in an open-mouthed kiss of sorts. Shane groaned at the sensation and couldn’t help but rut his hips.

“Such a fuckin’ whore,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Daryl helped move your head up and down his length while you stared up at Shane with the prettiest, most fucked-out expression you could manage, and you felt his length twitch in your mouth. Daryl pulled you off.

“Now what do we say for kicking Officer Grimes, hm?”

Before you could answer, your face was tilted to the left, and you were met with the sight of Rick stroking his length at your side. A string of saliva still connecting your mouth to Shane’s cock, you looked up at the friendlier of the two officers and gave him a smile.

“I’m sorry, Officer Grimes.”

This time, Daryl let Rick take the reins, for a moment, and move your mouth over his shaft. You happily accepted him between your lips and started bobbing almost instantly. You relished the pleasure that flooded those soft blue eyes, the way they winced just a little when you took him to the back of your throat. Like he wanted to fuck your face but felt too overcome with some feeling or fear to give it a try.

You decided it was cruel to make a man so polite wait a second longer than he needed to. Presently, you pulled off Rick’s length with a gentle ‘pop’ and turned your head back over to Daryl.

“Can you please tell Officer Grimes to fuck my throat?”

All three of them froze for a second, taken back by the filth that had just come out of your mouth, still spoken so sweetly. You stroked Rick’s cock and pretended to be oblivious of what you saw. Deep down, you knew by the glint in their eyes they were yearning, lusting, fucking you in their minds with every innocent blink you made. You felt Daryl’s grip tighten in your hair.

“You heard the lady,” Shane said, words directed to Rick but gaze never leaving you.

Out of habit, his hand came to wrap around his own cock as he watched you take Rick’s. You glanced between the two of them, placed a quick kiss on the tip—first on Rick’s and then, to the men’s surprise, on Shane’s—and parted your lips when you moved back to Rick.

Officer Grimes didn’t hesitate this time. He leveled himself with your mouth and pushed all the way in. You started to moan, but the sound was audibly cut short by a spasm in your throat. Rick reached the back of your warm, wet orifice with ease and, going further than Shane ever went, actually slid down that space. Exactly how you wanted him. You bobbed your head and hummed to show your appreciation.

Encouraged by how eagerly you swallowed him and how quick your whimpers were to reverberate down his length, Rick moved his hips. Watched you gag once or twice and blink through a couple tears, before Daryl wiped the moisture away as Rick had done for your spit. You were every bit the pampered and primped fuckdoll in their hands, bobbing and licking and sucking him dry.

“Good girl,” Daryl murmured, massaging your scalp when you gagged again.

“Takin’ me so well,” Rick groaned as he fed you another inch.

Shane continued pumping his cock, grunting out expletives, and watching you all the while.

You pulled off of Rick for a moment. Whether it would piss them off or turn them on, you didn’t really care—but you reached up to Shane and replaced his hand with yours, before dropping a kiss over the head of his cock.

All three men seemed to love it. Especially Daryl.

Though he hadn’t made a move to get his own dick wet just yet, you got the sense the man loved to watch. Loved to see your mouth sliding up and down and swallowing more cock every time, thinking to himself what a nasty, filthy little whore you were and just waiting for the moment it would be his turn to claim your throat and the rest of your holes as his own. In the meantime, you wanted to give him a good show.

You jerked both Rick and Shane in either hand and chanced a look over at Daryl.

Locking eyes with him, you moved down over Rick and sucked half his length in your mouth. Then, just as quick, you took Shane between your lips and gave the tip a wet, spongy kiss before taking him to the back of your throat. The mound in Daryl’s pants grew even more pronounced.

“Hey,” Rick said, grazing your cheek with his knuckles, “Ain’t you gonna say sorry to Detective Dixon, too?”

You moaned against Shane’s throbbing length and made sure Daryl saw your tongue swirl over the tip. Teasing him now.

Presently, Shane pulled out of your mouth and grabbed hold of your hair.

“Gonna make him feel real good with that slutty little mouth’a yours, huh?” he growled.

You nodded and smiled. Wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and started crawling over to Daryl as soon as Shane let you go.

You couldn’t believe he’d waited this long—couldn’t believe you’d been sucking his friends dry all this time and hadn’t gotten so much as a glimpse at him. Daryl watched you with a comfortable, lopsided sort of smirk as you made your way over to him, clearly enjoying this view of you on all fours.

Not even a guillotine could take away the head you were about to give this man.

When you finally reached his knees and straightened up enough to reach for the zip of his brown slacks, you felt a hand catch you around the wrist. To your surprise, Daryl held you back and yanked you onto your feet.

“I wan’ my apology someplace else.”

That ‘place,’ you would come to learn, was simply on top of his car. Splayed out on the hood of his cruiser with your pants dragged all the way down to your ankles and kicked off at your feet. Daryl carried you there and stripped you down to your panties, leaving you all but naked and ogling him with keen, hungry eyes. Rick and Shane were quick to follow suit and seemed just as eager as you were to watch this scene unfold.

You reached for his clothed erection once more but found your hand swatted away.

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl shook his head.

You raised an eyebrow in question. You opened your mouth to speak but found yourself moaning instead when Daryl slipped a finger past your panties and between your folds. Somehow finding your clit quicker than you could even dream, he circled that tiny bundle of nerves with his thumb and teased the seal of your entrance with his middle and ring fingers.

You clawed at his wrist.

“But Dar— I-I wanna taste you so bad,” you pleaded.

Daryl grinned and plunged his two fingers deep inside you, holding your hip to the car to keep you from squirming. He nodded to Rick, who took that as his cue to press down on your other side. Together, they had you pinned to the hood and helpless under their touch.

Daryl curled his fingers up and caused you to moan.

“How bad?” he asked.

“So—” your voice broke off in a gasp when the pads of his fingers stroked your G spot, “So bad, Daryl, please.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was savoring every second of this sight: you with your legs spread, begging and pathetic as he and Rick held you down. He probably would’ve liked to keep you there a little longer, maybe teased and fingerfucked you to the point of tears, but he got the sense that his friends weren’t possessed of quite the same patience. He’d just have to save the overstimulation for later.

Before you knew it, Daryl had given Rick another quick nod, released you from his hold, and pulled you off the car—before steadying you back on your feet, facing the vehicle.

Your hands flew out to catch yourself, but, before meeting metal, intercepted Daryl’s broad form instead. He took a seat on the front end of the car and caught you in both of his big, calloused palms.

“How ‘bout that taste, hm?” He was already starting to unbuckle his pants.

Finally. You promptly started to sink to your knees, when a light slap struck your cheek. You peeked up at its source and found Daryl shaking his head once more.

“Stay put,” he instructed as he started to pull his cock out of his boxers, “Rick’s gonna fuck tha’ slutty little cunt while ya suck me off, alright?”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a signal—and an effective one at that—to get Rick off his ass and hurrying to get behind yours. In the next second, you felt a set of warm, calloused hands on your hips and a tender grip tugging you back to meet someone’s crotch.

Your pussy twitched with the realization of your current predicament: bent over between the two men, with Daryl’s cock mere inches from your face and Rick’s member throbbing above your heat. Never once had an image like this materialized in your mind’s wildest fantasies, but now that you were here, stuck between these two with Shane just then drawing closer, you found yourself turned on to no end.

You parted your lips to allow Daryl entry when Rick teased the head of his cock up your slit. You took just the tip of Daryl, trying to stifle a moan, and the man behind you rubbed the length of himself up and down the seam of your cunt to collect all your juices. Another inch of Daryl in your mouth and you were whimpering with the feeblest look up at him, needing Rick inside you too.

Daryl held your gaze and ran a hand over your head.

“Little slut needs her pussy fucked, does she?”

You nodded, bobbing gently over Daryl’s member. You were just preparing to ease him in another inch or two when all of a sudden, the head of his cock jumped to the back of your throat as Rick thrusted into you.

It was far less gentle than you’d expected, sending you deep down Daryl’s length and causing you to gag. You hardly had time to adjust, or pull off of the man in front of you to catch your breath, when Rick started pounding you from behind. Rutting his hips, grunting in time with his thrusts, and slapping your ass in quick, ruthless hits. Daryl groaned above you as you had no choice but to deepthroat him again and again.

Shane, ever impatient, approached your free hand and guided it toward his erection. He wrapped your fingers around his cock and helped you stroke him quick, all while your mouth and pussy were presently occupied by Daryl and Rick’s sloppy thrusts.

“Ya like gettin’ spitroasted, huh? Like gettin’ fucked in two holes at once?” Shane sneered.

“Fuckin’ loves it,” Rick answered for you with a smirk, “Never seen a pussy this wet in my life.”

You imagined all of them could see and hear the arousal oozing from your freshly-fucked cunt, but you sensed no one liked it better than Daryl. The man was entranced with the sight of your form getting fucked from behind, sucking him deeper, looking up through your wet, tear-stained lashes as you let him fuck your face. That pure euphoric look in his eyes was almost like a drug—you wanted nothing more than to keep it there as long as you could.

Mere minutes later, Rick’s hips were stuttering against your own and his cum was spraying all over your insides. You didn’t stop sucking Daryl.

Shane gladly switched places with Rick and took a greedy handful of your hips before pumping his cock once or twice. You flattened your tongue against Daryl’s member and took him even further down your throat.

The man behind you was panting, right about to breach your folds when a sight below him held him in place.

Rick’s load was just then starting to dribble out of your pussy, leaving a long white trail of milky residue down your slit.

Shane clenched his jaw.

“Still hungry for more, slut?” he said through gritted teeth. To your surprise, you felt his fingertips trace the outline of your cunt and start moving up toward your other hole.

He was coating your asshole with Rick’s cum, grinning when you flinched.

“Think she’s ever been fucked in the ass before?” Shane asked the others. He slipped a digit inside your hole and watched you moan on Daryl’s dick.

Daryl pulled you off his cock and held you by your hair, your mouth saturated with strings of fresh saliva.

“Have you?”

You swallowed and shook your head. Daryl didn’t let his gaze linger on you another second. He signaled to Rick.

“Right there,” he pointed with his chin.

You hardly knew what was going on or where Rick had hastened off to. All you could comprehend was the gruff tone of Daryl’s voice telling you to get up, now, and the feel of Shane’s hands still holding you, guiding you back to your feet. When you didn’t move fast enough for his liking, Shane simply swept you up in his arms bridal-style and started carrying you himself.

Over his shoulder, you spied Daryl and Rick exchanging words and the latter placing the blanket you’d worn earlier on the ground. You almost felt tempted to ask Shane what they were planning to do, just starting to speak, when the man brought you over to the spot and set you right down.

The three of them had you circled in an instant.

Before the question could even form on your lips, you watched Daryl join you on the blanket. His smirk was evident.

He patted his lap for you to come straddle him.

When he started to lie down, your hands followed suit, eager to rest on either side of his chest, but another touch held you back. Behind you, Shane had grabbed hold of your hair and turned your head to face him.

“Spit,” he ordered, holding his hand under your chin.

You did as you were told and watched him rub your spit all over his shaft, before bringing his hand up to your face again and repeating his command.

At the same time, Daryl had lifted his hips and was guiding you closer to his cock. Your gaze moved down, then up, then over at Rick with a look of confusion, only to dart back to Daryl when you felt him split you open with a single thrust.

You had just been impaled on Daryl’s cock, mind reeling at the stretch and sensation, when you felt two fingers slip between your legs from behind. Daryl gripped your face and brought it down to his—wouldn’t let you look over your shoulder as the other man’s hand started to traverse the contour of your ass.

You were pulled in for a kiss as Daryl bottomed out inside you. Tongue hardly able to keep up with his as moans and whimpers went bubbling up in your throat, you just sat there, straddled him, and let him use your pussy any way he pleased. He snapped his hips and groaned your name between your lips, while the hand that was prodding you from behind finally reached its intended destination.

You yelped into Daryl’s mouth the second you felt a full, hefty finger slip inside your ass. Officer Walsh, no doubt.

The two men at your rear all but moaned as your tight little hole contracted around Shane’s finger and Daryl continued to pound you from below. It was odd, that sharp, disparate feeling of Daryl’s cock drilling your pussy while Shane’s digit pumped a much slower pace in your ass. Your senses had kicked into overdrive, and you couldn’t keep from showing your pleasure with every sound that you made.

Shane withdrew just long enough to add another finger, smearing a mixture of cum, spit, and your own juices all over your walls for lubrication. You sensed him moving closer, when Rick grabbed hold of his shoulder.

“Give her a minute,” he muttered.

Shane scoffed, shaking him off.

“Little whore looks plenty ready to me,” he retorted as he eyed your slick, sensitive hole.

Suddenly, your throat was clasped in Shane’s big hand and your head pulled tight against his chest. He had taken his cock in his other hand and was angling his length just right to press the head between your cheeks. Daryl had slowed almost completely.

“C’mere.” Daryl beckoned you closer with a tender look. When you leaned down to lay flat on his chest, he smiled, stroked your hair, “Jus’ hold on ta me, alright?”

Your walls were already squeezing his cock like a vice and your fingernails making white-hot crescents in his shoulders—you couldn’t hold him tighter if you tried—but you nodded. You let him kiss you again, felt a little more fit to take his tongue this time, and eased down along his shaft until you were filled to the brim with nothing but him.

That last part changed as soon as Shane thrust into your ass.

You jolted forward and instinctively tried to pull off his cock, but Daryl held you tight. Brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face and started peppering your skin with kisses the louder you whimpered.

“Doin’ so good for us, baby— takin’ our cocks so well,” he cooed in your ear.

You whined at the fierce burn between your legs as both Daryl and Shane pushed inside you. Rough fucking was one thing, but being penetrated in both holes simultaneously while sandwiched between two men just brought the sensations to entirely new heights. You clawed at Daryl’s shoulders and damn near sunk your teeth straight through your bottom lip.

“Good girl,” the man below you mumbled as he watched your face contort in a medley of pleasure and pain, “Tha’s my good girl.”

“Fuckin’ whore,” Shane spat, shoving his cock even deeper. Clearly not one for tender anal training.

Now it was Daryl going slow and sweet, just barely stirring his cock inside you while Shane slapped your ass and yanked your hips over his own. You saw Rick’s previously-deflated cock grow hard in his hands, and you proceeded to watch him watch you as he stroked himself a few feet away.

You needed another distraction. You caught Rick’s eye and simply licked your lips in silent invitation. He was filling your mouth in a matter of seconds.

With three cocks pumping in and out of you, you felt every bit the fucked-out brat you knew they’d wanted to claim. Your brain had all but melted to mush in their hands, your body manhandled and fucked every which way while your thoughts yielded, in turn, to pure anoesis.

There was something unusually freeing about being a living, breathing fuckdoll for these three King County cops. You couldn’t get enough.

Rick pulled his dick out of your mouth just long enough to slap you with it.

“This what ya needed?” he teased, tapping the head of his cock on your spit-painted cheeks, “A good fucking in all your holes to make you behave?”

You stuck out your tongue and tried to nod, your body still shaking with every thrust from Daryl and Shane. Instead of pushing back in, Rick simply rubbed his cock all over your face and shot you a look that was soaked to the core with condescension. Somewhere below, Daryl began toying with your clit.

You sucked in a breath between broken moans and clenched harder around both men inside you.

“Think she wants a switch,” Rick grinned.

In a minute, you felt yourself hoisted back up—Shane pulling out and Daryl rising swiftly to his feet. Two sets of hands helped maneuver your body to a position you’d never tried, never even seen before as your legs hooked over either one of Daryl’s arms and your ass was thrust back. Then, to your relief, it was Rick at your rear this time, rubbing his tip along your red and stretched out hole while your head came to rest on his shoulder.

You were pressed between the men once more and cradled comfortably in their arms. Daryl took care not to rut into you too hard while Rick was still coating your arousal across the hole Shane had just fucked raw.

“Shh, shh,” Rick’s lips dropped close to your ear while he pressed a wet finger inside, trying to relubricate the area.

You wiggled and squirmed, a bit too sensitive to keep still at this point, so Shane reached in and took you by the throat.

“Hold still,” he snapped. Stroking himself with his free hand.

You watched his eyes drift down to the spot where he’d just been, where Rick was trying to squeeze into, and felt the first real twinge of bliss when you felt the head of his cock tease your entrance. This was softer, even sweet. Paired with Daryl’s extra slow thrusts and the sounds all three were making as you spread your legs even wider, you first became aware of a knot in your tummy.

When the warmth of your ass enveloped just the tip of him, you felt it constrict even tighter.

Rick let out a groan and struggled to keep from thrusting too hard. Shane tightened his grip on your neck.

“C’mon now, sugar tits, don’t act like you ain’t just—”

“Shane,” Daryl growled.

Rick didn’t stop. You squeezed both cocks and moaned.

“I’m just sayin’ if the slut could fit my cock in and—”

“Fuck,” Rick hissed.

You were bouncing in between them now, head lolled back on Rick’s shoulder and hand pressed flush against Daryl’s chest. Steeped in pleasure as they stood and fucked you stupid.

Shane continued to tug his cock and stare you down with hungry, possessive eyes.

Daryl’s moans turned to shallow grunts while Rick’s breath fanned soft across your cheeks in ragged breaths. You writhed and you grinded between their two bodies, too lost in your own ascent to pleasure to sense anything else. Your skin was wet with a sheen of sweat and both holes all but soaked between the two men. Their cocks plunging in and out at a vicious pace until the coil in your stomach was nearly starting to ache.

“Feelin’ good?” Rick hummed in your ear.

“Gettin’ close?” Daryl joined.

Shane’s hand closed around your throat until your lungs could scarcely breathe and your vision blurred with stars. Making one last strangled moan, you rolled your hips and felt something taut and tight and blisteringly hot break loose across your abdomen—and not just the ropes of cum shooting deep inside you.

Alongside that tiny eruption came a blitz of pleasure unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Your body went haywire, every square inch of your skin alight with ecstasy and your mind going numb in a surge of bliss. You moaned and felt the walls of both holes spasm desperately over Daryl and Rick alike, and suddenly, something far beyond your control seemed ready to tear your body in two.

A beat of silence. Your consciousness gradually returned.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing to grace your sight was Daryl’s shining face, grinning ear to ear with the happiest expression.

You blinked and watched him closer.

As your vision adjusted and the world came clearer into view, you caught a glimpse of what seemed to have stretched Daryl’s smile so wide—and what had made his features so unusually luminous in this light.

Your eyes widened.

Daryl glanced to Rick, then Shane.

“Who knew she’d be a squirter?”

Presently, your juices were coating Daryl’s face and chest, having spurted straight from your cunt in the throes of climax and spraying all over his front.

Your pussy still clenched and convulsed as the cum from either man went seeping out of both holes.

Even Shane was left speechless, having just milked the last of his own release and watched you come undone in near-pornographic fashion. His chest was still heaving, blinking in disbelief and exchanging sly looks with Daryl and Rick every now and then. Rick pressed a kiss to your shoulder and smiled.

And, just when it seemed any one of you were liable to break that spell of silence with a laugh, the rattle of radio feedback startled you all.

Somewhere amidst the articles of clothing strewn around you, a walkie talkie clipped to one officer’s belt rang loud with the sound of a voice from a neighboring county’s dispatcher.

“All available units, high-speed pursuit in progress— Linden County units request local assistance. Highway 18 eastbound, GTA, ADW, 2-17, 2-4-3. Advise extreme caution.”

All three men stood to attention. Daryl and Rick lowered you quickly to the ground while Shane went scrambling for his clothes.

“Suspects are two male Caucasians. Be advised they have fired upon police officers. One Linden County officer is wounded.”

“Shit!” Rick hissed.

“Unit 1, unit 3, to eastbound Route 18. Two miles west of Interstate 85. Will patch in Linden County sheriff radio.”

“Is tha’—” Daryl started.

“We need to go,” Shane interrupted.

Another voice broke out over the line,

“Roger that. We’re five minutes south of the Route 18 intersection.”

Daryl tossed you what garments of yours he could find and snatched your arm in a breakneck haste. Before you could so much as slip your shirt over your head, though, you found yourself carted back over to his squad car and pushed toward an open door.

“What’s—”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

For reasons you couldn’t yet understand, you knew this call didn’t bode well for any of you. You took one last look at Officer Grimes and felt a twist in your stomach.

[imfromsixam]

Addons for The Sims 4 For Rent

Here's another list of add-ons Windenbro has put out, and I couldn't say no. Honestly, I like doing this kind of thing to get out of my routine, and I learn new things about CC that way.

Hope you like this!

List of items, almost everything requieres For Rent EP:

Window with closed shutter tall (3 sizes)

Wall-Mounted mailbox "Industrial Cluster Mailbox"

Wall-Mounted mailbox "Rural Cluster Mailbox"

Wall-Mounted mailbox "Lonely Cluster Mailbox"

Smaller Wall-Mounted AC

StrangerVille Old Industrial AC Debug

StrangerVille Decorative AC (Requieres StrangerVille GP)

White Lily Vanity Table (now with mirror functionality)

Tranquil Bathroom Cabinet (now with mirror functionality)

From window to arch "Stained Glass Tomarani Shutters - Open Wide" (2 sizes)

Separated clutter - Plant (BGC)

Separated clutter - Plates (BGC)

FREE DOWNLOAD HERE

[tddyhyck]

in the next room [ nct dream ]

pairings ⇢ dreamies x afab!reader

warnings ⇢ exhibitionism, semi-public/public sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, cum eating, hot tub sex, car sex, clothes sex, balcony sex, face fucking, fingering, squirting, grinding, belt as a restraint, bathroom sex, spanking, spitting, dom/sub undertones, use of (whore, slut, baby, good girl)

masterlist

the sink is cold when you grip it, holding yourself up as he slides into your abused hole swollen and puffy from the day's adventures. you weren’t sure if it was hormones or if jeno was more enticing than normal. you just couldn’t help yourself. “so wet for me already?” he whispered against your neck before he started moving behind you. one hand gripping your hip the other tightening on your jaw every time your head started to droop. lifting you to look at him through the mirror. his eyes darted between your reflection and where his cock was buried inside of you. “fuck” you mewled as he hit your sweet spot, but quickly shut your mouth remembering your friends in the next room. “shh unless you want them to hear how good i fuck you” he mumbled against your burning skin. the thought of your friends hearing him fuck you like a whore made you clench around him. he smirked at you through the mirror. you looked a mess, eyes hazy and lidded, mouth hanging open. you lifted a hand from the sink to dip between your legs circling your clit with a silent moan. “hey is everything okay?” someone called from the other side of the door. you whimpered, the knot in your belly tightening as your eyes went wide, staring at him knowing you can’t respond. “yeah just a bit under the weather.” jeno replied, still thrusting into you harshly. you could hear feet pattering away. “you think they heard your sloppy wet cunt?” that sent you over the edge shuttering in his hold head lolling back against his shoulder. he continued to use you for his own release “perfect fucking pussy” he moans into your neck as he cums. you feel his release as he emptied himself into you for the fourth time today. you whimper when he pulls out, and again when he shoves two fingers inside as a poor attempt to keep his cum from spilling out between your legs. it doesn’t help much and he pulls them out tugging your messy panties over your cunt to catch anything else. you turn around grabbing his wrist before slurping his fingers into your mouth lewdly licking your mixed cum off of his digits, before fixing your hair in the mirror and joining your friends again.

the car was muggy like a hot summer day but it was the middle of january, and snow covered the ground outside. but inside the car was filled with groans and moans and hot breaths on necks. you left open mouthed kisses down his collar bones as you sunk down onto his cock. he groaned into the car the music playing was too loud you wanted to hear him, hear the way he whimpered as you traced a hand under his shirt and over his nipples. “fuck” he groaned slamming his hand against the fogged window leaving a hand print on the glass. his hand slid down before gripping your ass again kneading the plush skin. he tugged you up and down before you leaned back offering space so he could see the way his cock filled you up. the new angle made you whine his cock brushing your sweet spot before pressing against your cervix. gravity achieving a new depth leaving you gripping his shirt. knuckles white as he fucked his hips up to meet yours. “shit shit” he pulled you to him as a car parked next to yours. he paused but you didn’t. you continued to grind against him swiveling your hips as you heard doors slam. his eyes rolled back as the person walked away. your cunt tightening around him as you circle your hips. “fuck what if they saw” he groaned face turning pink. “isn’t that the fun of it mark?” you smirked. lifting your hips to bounce over him again his head fell back “you’re crazy” he moaned. his hand gripping your waist slipped between you thumbing against your clit as you whimpered. the fast swirls heating up your insides as mark rearranged them. thrusting up into you with an irregular rhythm “you’re gonna make me cum” he whimpered. “that’s the point” you giggled. “shut up” he groaned. and you shut up when he sped up. skin slapping as he fucked into you, thumb and pointer finger pinching your swollen clit making your moan. mouth hanging open as you came and he quickly followed you, filling the condom. curses slipping from his lips as your cunt milked him. leaning down you kissed his neck sloppily. “fuck baby” he groaned when you lifted off of him. you rolled into the passenger seat legs spread swollen pussy on display. you brushed your fingers over yourself spreading your lips slick dripping still. “you’re filthy” he shook his head staring between your legs licking his lips.

his skin felt hot as you let your hand dance on his shoulder. fingers dragging water droplets around his skin. you let your hand go lower before fully submerging as you tapped against his skin. he stared up at you curiously a smirk dancing on his lips when you traced fingers down his chest and to his stomach. a light hand pressing over his swim trunks feeling a familiar hardness beneath the material. you smiled down at him gripping his member “you really want it?” renjun asked. you nodded tugging at the elastic “need you.” “you want everyone to look out of their rooms and see you getting fucked?” he questioned. you moaned in response letting go of his shorts to rub over your hardening clit. “little whore” he mumbled and it only made you go faster. you felt his hands gripping your ass kneading the plump skin. he grinded against you as you used your other hand to tug his shorts down. pulling his cock out your thumb sliding over the head making him sigh. he lifted you up while you tug your bottoms to the side quickly pressing the head against your hole. sighing with him as you sink down letting him fill you up. you groaned into his neck as he lifts you up and down on his cock. you planted your feet on the bench he sat on moving faster up and down. the jets pulsed around you covering the movement beneath the water; small splashes hitting the tile with every bounce. “can never have enough can you?” renjun groaned and his words made you whimper. you grabbed at his shoulders before your hands found the tile behind him, slippery and wet as you gripped it. “needy slut. you don’t care if they see you, you just want cock.” you shook your head bouncing harder on him moaning wantonly as his cock rubbed your sweet spot. “don’t care, want you” you whined. his fingers pressed against your clit smooth circles building your orgasm. “we should just come out here during the day let everyone watch you.” you moaned loudly as you came spasming around his cock. your bounces slowing but he still fucked into you as you shuttered over him. he kept his fingers circling your overly sensitive clit as he came biting your skin with a groan.

you kept your mouth tight, biting inside your lip to keep it shut. his fingers weren’t helping, sliding in slick between your legs. the movie flashed in front of you, your face lighting up with the screen. you glanced around the room full of your friends all focusing on the film, but you don’t even know the main characters name. jaemin’s hand had been down your shorts the entire time. you had lifted your hand to your mouth biting down into your palm to keep from moaning. every time he swirled his fingers over your swollen nub; thumb and pointer finger pinching down making your hips jolt. you could feel him smirking behind you as he dragged a finger down circling your hole. taping his finger, teasing the entrance and you could hear the wetness. it left you mortified slamming your face down against the couch. “don’t like the movie?” he asked, lips pressing against your ear. you shook your head feeling slick dribble out of you and down your thigh. you lifted your head up whimpering when he started moving his hand once more “gonna open you up. stretch your cunt so i can fuck you” he whispered. you wanted to whine, and cry, and kick your feet like a child, but your mind went blank when he finally pushed two fingers into you. your mouth formed an o shape as he plunged in, curling his digits into you. your legs shook around his hand making him frustrated. he pulled his fingers from you moving to wrap his arm around you. slithering between your legs not wasting time to fill you back up. you sobbed when he used his thumb on your clit working you closer to release. “you need to be quiet. do you want our friends to know you’re a whore?” your eyes shot open glancing around the room to see if their eyes were on you, but no one noticed you, or your legs spread open under the blanket, or heard the squelch of your wetness. “bet you want them to know” you whined into your hand. the knot in your stomach tightened your release imminent with each flick of his wrist. his other hand reaches to clamp down over your mouth as you cum shaking in his hold. he coos at you quietly continuing to milk your orgasm while you come down. limp in his arms he pulls out of you before lifting you to stand weakly. “y/n’s not feeling great we’re gonna go lay down,” jaemin announces before dragging you down the hall with a grin and sticky fingers.

his hands shook slightly as he tried to brush your hair from your face. you were too focused on grinding against him, panties sticky and wet on his sweats leaving a damp stain. his headset was still on mic moved from his mouth, but you could still hear his friends talking through the headphones. your hands brush from his shoulders to tug his sweatpants lower and peak at his hardening cock. trailing a finger over the head teasing his slit as you watch a bead of precum pump out. he sighs leaning back against his chair “baby” jisung murmurs. gripping your hips to slow you down. “can you see how bad i need you” you whine. fingers pressing to your damp panties covering your sticky cunt. “don’t want them to hear you” he says nodding his head to the mic. “just let me ride you i’ll be good” you murmur trying to move your hips again. “you have to be quiet” he whispers. one hand releasing from your hips to touch the damp material for himself holding back a groan. when you grind against his fingers you smile contentedly moving your hips against his hardening cock. the friction of the damp fabric and heat of his cock was enough for you, but jisung wanted more. he lifted your hips before tugging his pants lower letting you settle back down on his uncovered cock. he hissed when you humped against him staring down at your panties dragging against his pulsing member. “so good” you whined, gripping his shoulders to stay upright. he held your hips with one hand helping you drag against him. his other hand snaked between you tugging your panties to the side. your glistening clit peaking out sliding wetly as your slick dripped onto him coating his cock with each movement. his head rested against his chair, lips between his teeth blush painting his cheeks. you loved him like this and it was all because of you. your tummy tightened when you felt his cock twitch against you. “wanna cum” you mumbled. he took that as a challenge, gripping you tighter moving your hips over him swiftly. he angled his hips to offer more pressure to you, and it had you sobbing. your head lolling to his shoulder hips shuttering as you came with a whimper. you silently hoped the mic above you picked it up. he kept you moving against him as he stuttered praises in your ear before releasing on your pussy thick white ropes. you kissed his cheek leaning back looking at your soiled panties.

warm lips pressed against your shoulder blade, tongue sliding over your skin. you whined when teeth nibbled slightly. you reached behind yourself gripping his member making him hiss on your skin. pushing your hips back rubbing the tip between your legs over your cunt. “fuck me” you mumbled. he bit down on your shoulder as he pushed into you filling you up in an instant. “fuck” he groaned into your skin pulling your hips back to meet his own. you gripped the cool railing looking over the balcony at the busy city. thoughts racing around the idea of someone glancing up and seeing your dripping cunt being pounded. it had you clenching around him. “shit baby.” you fucked yourself back harder skin slapping rhythmically. you wear moaning unabashedly with every brush of his cock against your sweet spot. “gonna have the neighbors filing a noise complaint” haechan mumbled into your neck. you smirked as his hand slithered over your chest to grip your breast thumbing your nipple. “i’ll just blame you” your voice was rough and breathy. knees jiggly and weak legs shaking as he filled you over and over. his hand that was on your hip moved to press against your lower back making you arch beautifully. his eyes focused on the curve of your spine down to your ass and where he was buried inside of you. he brought his hand slapping against your ass making you moan loudly. you heard haechan chuckle behind you “you’re literally dripping” he smirked. he leaned back as he stared at the ground beneath you. your slick puddled on the floor beneath you. glancing down before bringing your hands between your legs collecting the sticky wetness on your fingers. swirling your hand over your cunt with a whine from both of you. your fingers splitting to a v shape around his cock. “such a messy cunt just begging for someone to watch you.” you whimpered clenching around him belly hot and full of fire. “you’d like it right? maybe i’ll invite someone over so they can see you whore out.” you moaned at his words as his thrusts were getting sloppy. both of you close to the edge, his cock fucking into you erratically nudging your sweet spot. your legs were shaking as you came, crying out as liquid spilled out of you. he kept fucking you until he came. cum dripping out of you to join the mess you had made on the tile.

you’d spent the whole day trying to rile him up and it seemed like he wasn’t having any of it. in a way it pissed you off but in another way it made you more determined. you hoped that flirting with someone at this club would make him show you who you belonged to. but he didn’t seem to care about you giggling at some lame jokes this guy was making. glancing across the bar at him, but he sat running a finger on his glass. you huffed walking back to your private table in the corner tugging the curtain closed behind you. you wanted to sulk but you didn’t have time. before you could sit down he was closing the curtain behind himself staring at you as he sat his glass down. “you’ve been a little brat all day.” you pouted lifting an eyebrow at him. “i was going to give in when we got home but your little flirting game changed my mind.” he walked towards you, backing you up until your knees hit the couch making you sit abruptly. staring up at him his fingers grazed your chin gripping your jaw to squish your cheeks until your mouth opened. watching him intently as he brought his face to yours before spitting into your open mouth. he kept it open watching the saliva slide down your throat before releasing your chin. “you’re going to be good for me now aren’t you?” chenle asked. you nodded quickly watching as his hands unbuckled his belt, sliding the leather out of the loops before squatting down in front of you. he held out his hand and you placed your hands in his palm; he massaged them before looping the belt snuggly around your wrists. “good girl,” he mumbled kissing your forehead. he stood back up unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down slightly. watching you as he took his cock out. it made your mouth water as your eyes followed his fist as it pumped over his member. he gripped your hair in one hand tapping the tip against your cheek with the other. your lips were already open and waiting as he slapped his cock against your face. he didn’t pause, plunging it down your throat your eyes immediately pooled. you pulled yourself to the edge of the seat to follow your head as he fucked into your warm mouth. he groaned and fingers tangling in your hair “such a whore.” he smirked down at you loving the way you gagged around him with each tug on your hair. “want me to go get that guy? let him see how good you are with your dirty mouth?” you whined vibrating around him making him moan. “you think this flimsy little curtain will keep everyone from knowing what a slutty brat you are?” he fucked into you harshly you felt your cheeks dampen as your legs pressed together. your cunt pulsed with need every word, every thrust into you made you want him more. “getting wet just thinking about it?” chenle asked, pulling out of your mouth with a squelch. spit dripped down your chin and onto your dress as you caught your breath. you kept your eyes on his, full of admiration. “let me see?” he pressed your shoulders back and you spread your legs showing your barely covered cunt. he tugged your panties down leaving them gripped in one hand as his other pumped his cock. you knew he was close and you hoped he would let you have it before he let go. he came closer pressing the tip into you as he groaned, and you whined feeling hot white shoot into you. you wiggled your hips for something for anything but he didn’t give it, pulling out of you he reached for you panties shoving the material in your messy cunt and you moaned up at him. he stood over you tucking himself back into his pants. he leaned down releasing your wrists and putting his belt back on. “keep it in until we’re home you understand?” you nod dumbly as he stands you up walking you out.

© tddyhyck

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 19

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18

Steve makes a noise of pain, and Eddie pulls back like he’d been burned. With how hot his face feels, he might have been. Eddie holds his fingers up to his own mouth. His lips hurt enough when he touches them that Eddie’s sure it’ll go down in history as the worst kiss in Steve Harrington’s life.

“Um,” Steve says, voice high and wobbly like he’s going to cry.

Eddie’d almost rather die than have Steve see him right now, but he needs to see the look on Steve’s face to ascertain how the hell he can fix this. So, he reaches up, fumbling blindly until the van’s interior light clicks on.

He blinks, momentarily blinded by the spots sparking in his eyes with the sudden light. When he finally blinks them away and catches sight of Steve, his breath catches.

Steve’s pressed hard enough into the van’s door that it looks like he’s trying to become one with it, and his eyes are wide and panicked, fingers clenching the fabric of his jeans over his raised knees. There’s a speck of blood on his mouth and all Eddie can do is hope that it’s his own.

“I am so sorry,” Eddie rushes out, shuffling forward in his seat, hand outstretched to wipe off the blood, but when Steve flinches away, smacking his head against the window, Eddie flings himself back, palms raised in supplication. “I shouldn’t have done that!”

It’s only as something shutters beneath Steve’s wide eyes that Eddie realizes how many wrong ways Steve could be taking what he’s saying. “Not like that!” Eddie continues, words tumbling over each other in his rush to get them out. “It’s just you were saying all that shit like I don’t want to be here? And I panicked, and just sort of…did that?”

Steve doesn’t say anything in response. He just sits, frozen, eyes unfocused. Eddie really wishes he’d say something, if only so Eddie can stem the stream of bullshit flowing from his mouth.

“Only, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and you’re supposed to ask first, right?” he rambles, still panicking. “Oh my god, I just like, attacked you? I’ll take you home if you want, oh my god, why did I—”

“You want to be here?” Steve blessedly interrupts. Eddie takes gasping breaths, eyes laser focused on the little furrow between Steve’s brows. “Wait, that was your first kiss?”

Eddie feels whatever blood had drained from his face rush back as Steve squints across at him. He’s not crowded into the door, but Eddie’s not sure the way he’s leaning toward Eddie with disarming focus is actually much better.

“I mean—well, you see—I’ve just never—” Steve’s still staring at him unerringly so Eddie takes a shuddering breath and finally spits it out. “I’ve never been on a date, kissed anyone, any of that stuff.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers, a look Eddie can’t read dawning across his face.

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie replies, chuckling weakly when Steve just keeps staring. Eddie looks away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze. “Sorry I blew it like that. I just sort of panicked, you know?”

“Oh,” Steve says again, a different intonation this time, still just as indecipherable to Eddie.

“Yeah, oh,” he mutters again, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, unable to look at Steve.

It’s silent again—Eddie wishes it was dark, too. He wants to go home, drag his comforter back into his room and hide beneath it until he forgets any of this ever happened. He might be under there for a long, long time.

But then there’s cool fingers against his chin, and when he jerks his gaze toward him, Steve’s golden brown eyes are very, very close to his own, his lips even closer with the way his breaths are puffing against Eddie’s open mouth.

“Can I?” Steve asks, making it clear what he means as he looks down at Eddie’s lips.

Eddie gasps, body aflame with the power of his blush. “You—you want to?” he stutters out. When Steve nods, still holding Eddie’s chin, he responds, “okay, yeah, yeah, okay—” his affirmations only being cut off by the soft press of Steve’s lips.

It’s soft and dry, pressed chastely against Eddie’s own. Eddie shudders, mimicking the minute movements of Steve’s lips against his own. It’s a revelation to feel Steve’s lips on him, even more so when he feels Steve’s mouth quirk up against his own, like he’s happy to be kissing the bumbling fool Eddie’s become.

Eddie laughs, just a little against Steve’s mouth. It turns into a groan halfway up his throat as Steve threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair, using his grip on the back of his head to pull Eddie closer to himself. As Eddie gasps, Steve brushes his tongue into Eddie’s open mouth, barely delving in before pulling it back and sucking Eddie’s bottom lip.

Steve leaves his lips wet as he pulls back. Eddie tries to chase his mouth, drunk off the feeling of it, but Steve’s fingers fist in the back of his hair, holding him in place. The feeling zings through Eddie from his scalp to his palms, that gentle pull hitting him like electrocution as he gasps back to life.

When he opens his eyes, Steve’s still close, smiling smugly at Eddie. It’s all King Steve without the bite. He wants more, hopes Steve keeps him around long enough that he can see it all.

“You said stargazing?” Steve asks, eyes twinkling brighter than any star in the sky.

Eddie laughs, something bright and bubbling filling his chest as he watches Steve laugh along with him, eyes crinkling almost shut, hand still clutched in Eddie’s hair.

He hopes, ardently, desperately, that a second date is on the table, no matter how disastrously this one has gone because right now, in this moment with Steve’s buoyant laughter echoing in his skull? Eddie’s obsessed with him.

“Yeah, big boy, let’s go.”

***

Steve leans against the cold metal of Eddie’s van and watches as Eddie bounces around in the light of the van’s headlights, helplessly endeared as Eddie fusses with the edges of his blanket until it finally lays wrinkle-free in an empty spot in the clearing. He rushes back to the van a few times, holding snacks and drinks behind his back like Steve won’t see them the moment he drops them to one side of the blanket.

He fusses with it all, too, making sure everything’s lined up just so. It’s so unlike Eddie that Steve might think he’s stalling if he wasn’t beaming the entire time. To finish it off, he grabs a smaller folded blanket and lays it perfectly parallel with all the snacks. Only then does he turn back to Steve.

“My lady,” he says, bowing low and gesturing down to the blanket at his feet. “Your chariot awaits.”

Steve laughs and follows his directions to the middle of the blanket, feeling absurdly guilty about his shoes on it. He drops, crossing his legs beneath him. Once he’s rushed over to the van to turn his headlights off, Eddie follows his lead, sitting close enough that their knees just barely overlap.

Steve blinks away the spots in his vision from the change in light before looking up at the sky. It’s bursting with stars, and the moon’s full enough to illuminate their clearing so that Steve can see the shadows of Eddie’s dimples as he smiles at him.

“So, I was thinking we could smoke a little?” Eddie says, pulling a joint out of the pocket of his vest with a raised brow. “But if you don’t want to, we can just relax.”

Steve grabs the joint from Eddie’s hand, letting his fingers brush against Eddie’s before plucking it free and putting it in his own mouth. Eddie stares, mouth parted, hand still held out despite now being empty.

“Well? Got a light?” Steve asks around the blunt, leaning a bit toward Eddie as he comes back to life and fumbles in his vest pocket like he’s on some sort of time crunch.

Eddie flicks his lighter and watches avidly as Steve sucks in until the cherry catches and burns. He inhales, trying for cocksure and suave, but it’s been a long time and instead he coughs a cloud of smoke right in Eddie’s face.

Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” he says around each little, sputtering cough.

“Sorry,” Eddie replies, but he’s still laughing as he plucks the joint from Steve’s fingers and takes a much smoother drag, using his free hand to pat Steve on the back like he’s burping a baby. “Been a while, Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes are streaming, but he feels light enough that he could float away on the smoke as Eddie smiles across at him, joint still in his mouth.

“A bit,” Steve replies, cheeks heating as Eddie’s fingers brush against his lips as he puts the joint back into Steve’s own mouth, tip now wet with Eddie’s spit.

“Nice and easy, now,” Eddie says. Steve follows his instructions, taking a small, shallow breath in, fighting against the spasming of his lungs as he lets the smoke leave his mouth and float up into the night’s sky. He’s rewarded with Eddie’s quiet murmur of, “good boy.”

Then the asshole takes the joint back, raising his eyebrows tauntingly as Steve shudders.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters, no heat behind the words as he flops back on the blanket and looks up at the stars. “Now show me some constellations, Munson.”

Eddie laughs, dropping down so their sides are pressed together, heads close enough that Eddie’s hair tickles Steve’s neck. Eddie takes one more drag before offering it back to Steve. Steve’s enough of a lightweight now, that the few hits he took have him floating a few feet above his body, so he shakes his head. Eddie reaches over to stub it out in the grass without complaint.

“Okay, see those three stars?” Eddie asks, pointing up into the sky. Steve squints, nodding when he finally locates three stars that seem brighter than the ones around them, forming a wonky sort of triangle. “Well, that constellation’s called, How The Fuck Should I Know?”

A barking laugh bursts out of Steve as he turns to stare at Eddie, incredulous. “You planned a stargazing date and don’t know anything about stars?”

“Well, I thought it would be romantic!” Eddie cries, gesturing wildly enough that one of his hands smacks into Steve’s chest lightly.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t even know anything about stars,” he repeats teasingly.

“Well!” Eddie sputters, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders and shaking him around on the blanket as he laughs. “Wayne thought it was a good idea.”

Steve stops laughing, unease curdling in his gut as he asks, “you told your uncle about me?”

Eddie sits up, wriggling his arm from beneath Steve suddenly enough that he flops bonelessly onto the blanket as Eddie peers down at him, eyes wide and manic beneath the moonlight. He latches both hands onto Steve’s shoulders like he’s trying to keep Steve stationary.

“I didn’t mean to!” he blurts out before biting his lip. “It’s just, I tell him everything, and he knew I was upset, and asked what was wrong, and it just spilled out!” One of Eddie’s hands lets go of Steve’s shoulder so he can gesture wildly, like they’re playing charades and he’s depicting a clown pulling a ribbon from his sleeve. “And then he told me that he thought I was gay, can you believe that?”

And honestly? Steve can. But Eddie looks riled enough, and Steve just wants to go back to the calm intimacy of minutes before, so he grabs the hand still propping Eddie up with his own shoulder and yanks it out from under him.

Eddie goes sprawling, landing half on Steve’s chest where he wriggles around like a worm until Steve wraps his arms around him and holds Eddie tight to his own chest. Eddie shutters, then slumps, tucking his head beneath Steve’s chin with a groan.

“First Chrissy, then Jeff, and Robin, now your uncle?” Steve mutters, tightening his hold on Eddie when his words start him squirming again. “Who’s next, the pope?”

“Robin knows?” Eddie asks, breaths puffing against Steve’s sensitive neck. “That explains so much.”

“Hey, Rob’s great,” Steve defends, unsure what Eddie’s weird tone means. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Eddie snorts, but burrows his face further into Steve’s neck, planting a little kiss on the skin there. “You’re so weird.”

“Coming from you?”

“Oh, baby, you had me beat like three deranged decisions ago,” Eddie teases, but Steve barely hears him, too busy replaying baby, baby, baby, over and over again in his head like a cheap record.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters.

Eddie fights against Steve’s restricting arms until he’s propped up, smirking down at him, his curly hair curtained around them. “I’m serious! First, you write secret letters? And to me of all people?” Eddie crows. Steve wishes desperately that he could think of a way to shut him up before this gets even more embarrassing. “And the Chrissy of it all, Stevie, what the hell were you—mph!”

Eddie goes blessedly silent as Steve plants one on him, opening his mouth just enough to hear Eddie make that delightful groaning noise again. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling Eddie down until his full weight is atop Steve, anchoring his stoned brain back into his body.

Steve bites at Eddie’s lip, once, twice, before soothing it with his tongue and pulling back, high again off the pitiful groan Eddie lets out.

“I finally found a way to shut you up,” he says softly, but he’s smiling and running his hands up and down Eddie’s back as he pants.

Eddie groans, flopping off Steve, body still pressed up against his side. “You’re evil Harrington,” he mutters, reaching out to take Steve’s hand and squeeze.

Steve reaches for Eddie’s chin again, this time pointing it back up to the sky.

“You see those stars there?” he asks, pointing up and to the left of them. “It looks sort of like a weird rectangle with legs and a swirly neck?”

Eddie squints up, gaze unerringly facing the way Steve’s pointing. Steve watches close enough that he sees the moment recognition lights up his eyes. “That’s Leo.”

At that, Eddie whips his head around to stare at Steve suddenly enough that he breaks Steve’s hold on his chin. “Are you kidding?” Eddie demands, but he’s grinning now. “You gave me all that shit, and you ‘know the stars?’” He throws quotations around his words, making it clear that he’s mocking Steve.

For his part, Steve shrugs, still lying down and grinning right back as he replies, “I learned all the star signs to impress girls. And boys, now.”

As Steve reaches out to tuck a dangling lock behind Eddie’s ear, Eddie stares back at him, no longer grinning. “I’m a Leo.”

“I know.”

Eddie whines, “you’re going to kill me,” and drops back to the blanket, curling into Steve’s side.

“Nah,” Steve replies, uprooting Eddie just enough to reach over and grab the folded blanket to drape over the pair of them, cutting the chill in the air by halves. After all, they’ve got a high to wear off before Eddie can drive him home like the gentleman he promised to be. “What fun would that be?”

***

Steve’s asleep—Eddie can tell by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath Eddie’s head and the way his breath whistles out of his nose. Eddie doesn’t wake him up. This moment feels too precious, this feeling bubbling up in his chest too new to disturb it, especially after the disaster that was the beginning of the night.

It’s just, Eddie’s never been on a date before, and he hadn’t accounted for the way the popcorn would make his hand too slippery with butter to even imagine reaching across the distance between them. And Steve had been very clear: he wanted to hold hands. And it’d all spiraled out of control from there.

He’s never buying popcorn again.

But, now he’s resting against Steve’s side, head propped up on Steve’s chest, hand clutched in his even though it leaves his arm at an awkward angle. And he’s contending with feelings he’s never experienced before.

It’s like there’s moths attacking his heart and lungs before fluttering down into his stomach, tickling his insides, making his whole being damn-near squirm with the foreign feeling.

He feels almost sick with it—is this what everyone means by lovesick? It’s awful, it’s spectacular. He wants to wake Steve up and tell him about the moths and their fluttering, see if he feels it, too.

But, Steve sighs, and even in his sleep, his arms reflexively pull Eddie tighter against himself, and Eddie lets himself bask in the warmth of his embrace until he falls asleep.

He wakes, his entire body cold and shivering convulsively.

It takes another shake to his shoulder to remember where he is and who he’s with. He opens his eyes to Steve’s face hovering over him, his hand shaking Eddie’s shoulder.

“Wha’s it?” Eddie murmurs, reaching up to rub clumsily at his eyes.

“We fell asleep,” Steve replies, voice gravely in a way that hits Eddie right in the gut. “Come on, man. It’s freezing out here.”

Eddie groans, but dutifully drops his hand from his face to grab Steve’s, letting the other boy pull him upright. It takes him a minute to reorient himself with the concept of standing upright.

By the time he’s upright, Steve’s stacked the uneaten snacks back into the bag Eddie’d brought them in, and is halfway through folding up Eddie’s blanket.

“Is it morning?” Eddie asks, squinting up at the sky accusingly as dawn’s light filters through the trees.

Steve laughs. “You’re cute when you first wake up.” Eddie stands there, brain now fully offline, cheeks heating even in the cold. “Now, come on! It’s cold as hell out here.”

The sound of his van’s passenger door slamming as Steve climbs inside sends him running; he climbs into his freezing van and turns the key in the ignition.

“The, uh, heat’s on the fritz,” Eddie mutters, embarrassed, as the van sputters to life. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve replies, and when Eddie glances at him, he’s smiling over at Eddie even as he wraps his arms around himself.

It’s a quiet drive, more out of sleepiness this time rather than the awkward journey of the night before. Steve reaches out to play whatever’s in the tape deck—Metallica this time, and he bops his head along to the beat while Eddie taps the steering wheel.

He pulls into the Harrington’s driveway, and puts the van in park and lets the engine idle.

“Well, I had fun,” Steve says, smiling as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.”

Steve’s already out of the car and walking up to his front door by the time Eddie’s tired brain catches up. He’s out of the van in a shot, forcing his cold legs to move fast as he calls, “wait!”

Steve pauses, hand still on the doorknob, halfway through the door. But he turns around, and waits as Eddie rushes up to him, already breathless from his short dash.

“A gentleman always walks his date to the door,” Eddie says quietly, conscious of listening ears, even this early in the morning.

Steve beams, clearly ready to play along as he curtsies like one of the fine ladies in the movies and replies, “well, you’ve done your gentlemanly duty.”

Eddie shuffles his feet, anxious now about all the other things that usually follow the end of a date. “Uhh—well—can I—?”

Steve waits indulgently while Eddie sputters over all the things he wants, all the things he can’t figure out how to say. It’s okay, Eddie planned for this, so he reaches into his vest’s pocket, and pulls out a folded piece of paper, passing it to Steve like they’re in class.

Steve looks down at it, smile growing as he asks, “what’s this?”

“Open it,” Eddie replies, but he already is, smile only growing as he reads what’s on it.

   Second Date? Yes ☐ No ☐

   First Kiss? Yes ☐ No ☐

“I, uh, didn’t think we’d have already done the whole first kiss thing?” Eddie rambles, the longer Steve spends just staring down at it. “But, it’s customary at the end of a first date, right? I mean not that I have any experience. But, in the movies—”

“I probably have morning breath,” Steve graciously interrupts, holding a hand over his mouth like he’ll be able to contain the stench. But he’s smiling down at the note, Eddie can see the edges of his upturned lips between the gaps in his fingers.

And that’s decidedly not a no, so Eddie crowds Steve until he stumbles through his open front door. Eddie takes a precious moment to close the door to obscure them from view before he cups Steve’s cheeks in the palms of his hands.

“I can’t tell you how much I don’t give a shit about that, Harrington,” Eddie murmurs right before he presses his lips against Steve’s, gently this time because say what you want about Eddie, but he can learn from his mistakes.

It’s slow this time, languid. They’re both tired, and cold, and this date has gone on hours longer than it was ever supposed to. But it’s just as good as their second first kiss. Eddie’s mind goes blank—there’s nothing past the heat of Steve’s lips, and the way those foreign moths squirm within him as arms wrap around his waist. 

Eddie pulls away first this time, pecking Steve’s lips once, twice, thrice, when he groans a complaint. “Now, now, I’m trying to be a gentleman,” Eddie replies, hoping Steve doesn’t notice how breathless he sounds.

Steve pouts, but pulls back, Eddie’s note still clutched in his hand. Eddie stares at it, gut churning much more unpleasantly as he asks, “uh, and the other question?”

“Hold that thought,” Steve replies, and then he just—walks away.

Eddie stands at the threshold of the Harrington’s big, empty house as Steve disappears from view. Luckily for the health of Eddie’s heart, he reappears a few moments later, the cap of a pen in his mouth as he scribbles quickly on the page before handing it back to Eddie.

Eddie looks down at it, smile blooming as he sees the little X’s Steve had written in next to the Yes’s of both questions.

“But it’s my turn to plan the next one,” Steve mutters, and when Eddie tears his gaze away from the note, Steve’s cheeks are dusted with a light pink blush that Eddie has to resist the urge to lick.

“I can live with that,” he replies, damn-near buzzing with excitement.

“I’m going to knock your date out of the park, Munson, just you wait.” Steve’s got a cocky eyebrow raised like he’s challenging Eddie to a competition and knows he’s going to win.

He’s such a bitch; Eddie’s obsessed with him.

“Good luck, Harrington. We both know I knocked this one out of the park.” Steve laughs as Eddie mimes hitting a baseball with a bat with the best form he can manage, trying to appeal to Steve’s jock sensibilities.

“You brought it back around,” Steve concedes.

“But, hey,” Eddie starts, finally breaking eye contact with Steve so he can slip the ring off his finger and hold it out to Steve. “It’s no letterman jacket, but something to remind you of me until our next date?”

Steve’s eyes are wide as he looks down at the ring cradled in Eddie’s palm, and his fingers tremble slightly as he scoops it up. Still, he doesn’t hesitate in trying out fingers until he finds one that fits—the blue gem shines brighter affixed to Steve’s thumb than it ever did on Eddie’s hand.

Steve’s cheeks are darker now; Eddie wants to reach out and see if he can feel the heat through his skin.

Steve swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looks down at the ring on his finger with what looks like wonder. “Thank you,” he murmurs quietly before finally looking up and meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Good luck getting my letterman back from Chrissy, though. She’s obsessed with it. I swear I even saw Jeff wearing it the other day.”

“I’ll fight her for it,” Eddie replies, mostly joking as he throws a couple half-hearted punches just to make Steve laugh again.

“You do that,” Steve says, still smiling as he leans forward to peck Eddie’s lips one more time before ushering him out the door. Eddie’s lips tingle the whole drive home.

When he walks through the trailer, Wayne’s on the couch, watching a game of sportsball on the TV, a mug of coffee clutched in his hand. He looks up when Eddie enters, smirking as he catches sight of whatever look is on Eddie’s face.

“Still straight, Ed?” Wayne asks, before taking a sip of his coffee like the meddlesome bastard he is.

“Shut up, old man,” Eddie replies, walking past his laughing uncle to fall into his bed for a few more hours of much-needed sleep.

PART 20

[lordcrumps]

The Sims 2 For Rent - CC EXPANSION PACK

Sul Sul!

~ More photos under the under the cut ~

Last week the Sims 4 got a new pack, this week Sims 2 players get that same pack! In a collaboration with @platinumaspiration and @tvickiesims and a HUGE assist from @episims, we bring you "The Sims 2 For Rent CC Expansion Pack!"

This is a large set, and advisable that it does not get merged even further than it already is! - I ran into some issues when trying to do this!

When you explore this pack, please take a look at the marble ring rug, it has some surprisingly cute rug swatches! I put a swatch in it to remove the marbles themselves, so you have a cute small rug! - I only mention this as I was going to bin the rug off once uploaded, but then I found it had some lovely swatches!

FUNCTIONALITY

So most of the items will function as they should and intended as. Its just not just deco items.

There is two collection files included, separated into build buy! Please note that fences and stairs and spandrels cant be but into a collection!

The squatty toilet that took me over 12 hours to make, yeah they squat, animation can be a bit bouncy but such is life. This toilet also can be flushed, get dirty and is cleanable!

Outdoor plants are seasonal!

Counters are animated with insides built, there is no drawer on the counter, I did not want to change the shape of the unit, and saw EA did the same - ignore the fact they grab something from a non existent drawer

Wardrobes have interiors elements, and have working doors!

Each Kettle have two versions, choose only one, one for the colour traits mod / one 'normal'. They function as Tea makers! Huazzah!

Spandrels in build mode are classified as fences. I made a variant with fence / no fence.

Several of the larger deco pieces such as the Arch Gate, or umbrella are actually lights!

Radiators act like radiators!

The Aircon Unit is completely functional, doesn't lower bills, but it does lower sims temperatures!

"Water Heaters" act like solar panels, they get money off your bills!

The Electrical Fuse box has 2 versions, I kept them both in, one wall deco and one functions as a burglar alarm - I wanted more alarms.

Most Sofas / Chairs have morphs!

Slots added to the Vanity and Bathroom Cabinet!

FENCES / SPANDRELS / STAIRS OH MY!

I have included swatch images of each of the spandrels, fences and stairs and labelled them to match, this is so that you can go in and take out any of the swatches you do not want. This is because there are lot of new fences and the menu can feel cluttered with them in for some people.

DOWNLOAD

ALT - SFS

~ Credits / Thanks / List of items not converted under the cut ~

MORE PHOTOS

CREDITS

Mini fridge is cloned from Targa over at MTS - so now it works just like a regular fridge barring a few animations (get baby bottle and juggle)

Kettles were cloned from @pforestsims's kettle, link here.

@jacky93sims for the base of the squat toilet! Epi for the code edits!

THANKS

@tvickiesims, @platinumaspiration thank you soo much for helping with the objects, really couldn't do it myself!! Your amazing, awesome, and some of the best creators out there! Thank you again!

@episims - YOU ARE DA BOMB! Thank you for all your help in getting those toilets working with me, and everything else you do when you answer my little annoying questions! Appreciated like you wouldn't believe!

LIST OF ITEMS NOT CONVERTED - @sims4t2bb

Due to the sizing / functionality of these objects, they will not be included in this pack!

All Yer Fixins Untenable Food Stand

Mali's Moonlight Market Craft Stall

Vegan Vittles Night Market

Late Night Snack Dessert Stall

Rice to Meet You Night Market

The Unrestroom

Fisherman's Slats Window - Tall

The Secret Maze Window - Very Tall

The Secret Maze Window - Super Duper Tall

Stained Glass Tomarani Shutters - Tall

Stained Glass Tomarani Shutters - Tall and Open Wide

The Save Us From Ruin Tallest Cinched Wall Curtain

The How Many Times Do We Need To Tell You It's Not Silk Taller Wall Curtain

The We Are Going To Jail< Tallest Wall Curtain So You Know the Truth Curtain

[bxlladxnnabxtch]

To Lose a Lifetime

Rhysand x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: After erasing every trace of yourself, you make a home for yourself in a small log cabin. But after leaving Velaris without so much as a goodbye, you should have guessed that trouble would come knocking sooner or later.

Read pt. 1 to To Lose a Lifetime - HERE

Read Pt. 3 - HERE

Warnings: Profanity, angst.

The Inner Circle hadn’t seen you for weeks. And despite their best efforts, they couldn’t find you.

At some point, you had tuned out Rhys’ continuous pleading down the bond. Completely blocked him off from any of your feelings or thoughts. The bond had gone cold. Dead.

You had made sure to erase every trace of your existence since you had left. Paying in cash- not even so much as touching your account, staying in different inns every couple of nights, giving different names to passersby. You were determined to not let them find you, you didn’t want them to find you.

But as the days turned into weeks, the time slowly creeping by to almost a month, you idly wondered what their plan was to find where you had gone.

Rhys putting out a ten-thousand-dollar reward for your whereabouts was not on your list of guesses.

You clutched the paper in your hand, and a silent curse left your mouth as you pulled your hood further over your face. This fucking prick. Of course he would do something like this. You debated whether it was worth it to go around town removing the ads plastered around like you were some wanted criminal. But your survival instincts ultimately won out when you turned your head to find a few people already glancing your way. Soon enough your feet were picking up down the path of the town you were in, eager to steer clear of anyone hopeful to get their hands on that reward.

You ducked into the tree line, quickly steering off the path to avoid any more unwanted encounters. You needed to get back to where you were staying, before more people realized the hefty sum their High Lord was willing to dish out for the missing link of his Inner Circle.

You were able to make it back to your cabin without issue. Luckily, your already wealthy friend- and owner of the cabin- wasn’t particularly swayed by the bribe.

It seemed safe- felt safe. Your fuzzy pajama pants along with the fireplace had warmed you up from the autumn chill that had befallen the Night Court.  Your form curled up on the couch, knees tucked to your chest with a book in your lap. You were invested, eyes intently tracing the words on the page like a prayer, wings hanging over the arm of the couch. It couldn’t get much better than this.

You were so relaxed, and before you knew it the words on the page began to blur together as you fought to keep your eyes open against the sleep that had begun to plague you. You were so out of it you weren’t expecting to hear the sharp pounding that almost rattled the house.

You jumped, snapping upright on the couch as the book tumbled from your lap and your power flew out to slam the shutters shut on the windows. You bristled as another knock sounded on the door; this time less intense but just as startling. You groaned, running your hand through your hair as you stepped over your now discarded book, bare feet pattering on the wooden floor as you trekked towards the door. You knew Niliana was supposed to come by later for some tea and a chat- but her pounding on your door like this was completely uncalled for.

Your hand gripped the doorknob, metal cold against your warmed skin as you pulled it open, a yawn breaking from you as you rubbed your eyes groggily. “I was just about to fall asleep Nilliana what the-“

You stopped dead in your tracks as you looked up to see Rhys looking down at you, seeming very, very unimpressed.

You were suddenly wide awake as you stared at the High Lord, expression morphing into one of distaste. You assumed he would have found you sooner or later, but showing up on the doorstep of your cabin looking like this was all your fault made you want to slap him so hard you sent him flying back to Velaris.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, not bothering to hide the disappointment in your tone. Rhys frowned, his wings shifting behind him as he scanned you. “I’m here to bring you back.” He stated plainly. You looked at him in disbelief, the statement forcing a humorless laugh from you. “And what makes you think I would do anything you say after your insane proposal?” You quip, folding your arms as you leaned against the doorway, the fall chill beginning to set into your bones. Despite the shivers that had begun to rack through you, you had no intention of taking this conversation inside.

“I get you’re upset, but that doesn’t give you the right to walk out on your family.” He said matter-of-factly.

“You seem to have forgotten we’ve already done that.” You replied back cooly. His eyes hardened, and you felt a tremor shoot through the cabin as he lost the tether on his power for a split second. “Don’t bring Amarantha into this.”

“And why not?” You asked, head cocking to the side quizzically. “We both knew what going to that party meant for us. It didn’t stop us from leaving. Yet here you are willing to throw away half a century of suffering to rescue a damsel that can’t seem to get her shit together.” He wrung his hands, jaw clenching as he looked at the ground. “She’s suffering. I did the exact same for you and I would do it again.” He said, locking eyes with you. He looked desperate, like he was willing to drop to his knees and grovel to get you back. His words shot pure, unfiltered rage through you. Releasing a sharp, ragged breath through your nose, you shot him a threatening glare as you stepped towards him the slightest bit.

“No- nonono- I am completely different. I begged. I starved. I fought my way through that damn forest. I crawled my way through foreign courts I knew nothing about on the brink of death- pleading to anyone that may have offered a glimmer of sympathy or help. I fought my way up here. Through blood and tears. So, when you ask me to have sympathy for someone who has the power to destroy Prythian in her finger- just because she’s having a hard time, maybe you’ll begin to understand the reason I tell you to go fuck yourself.” You snarled, wings shuddering under the strength of your rage.

Rhys seemed to lean back the tiniest bit, but still remained steadfast. “I made a bargain-“ He was cut of by your growl, your mind shot back to those nights sleeping in The Middle, fighting creatures older than Prythian itself. “No, you signed our potential death certificate.” You could tell your anger had burned its way down the bond from the way he flinched at your words. Your expression twisted into one of grief as you got caught up in the memories that flooded into your head, the starving, the sweat, the smell of death, of your family lying slaughtered in the middle of the village.

“It may be your court, Rhys. But it’s my home. One I chose to make with you, but one I could’ve and will make without you.”

You barely had time to realize your mental shields had gone crumbling down before you felt him in your head. You felt your memories being consumed by him as your face paled, eyes widening. You jerked as more memories were pulled from you, of the cold, the trek from the Winter Court, frostbite nipping your fingertips. The feel of the pathetic little dagger in your hand as you took your first life. The feel of your dry lips as you crossed the border into the Dawn Court, stumbling and delirious. The feel of your ribs as you put on a stolen shirt you had nabbed from a street vendor. The scream that was ripped from you as a knife shredded through your wings like paper-

You shoved him, hard and unyielding, mental shields slamming up as you forced him out of your head. “LEAVE.” You shouted so loud an echo could be heard from the forest, your power unintentionally carrying your voice as you saw flocks of birds being roused from the trees. You felt the adrenaline coursing through you and how it burned through your veins, searing your nerves and numbing you out as you trembled. Your power flowed through you, begging to be unleashed, slamming against the bars of its cage like a rabid animal.

You breathed heavy, tightening your tether on your power in an attempt to keep it leashed as Rhys looked at you like your memories had broken him. “GO!” You screamed, your voice cracking with the word. Rhys seemed to flinch, and a flash of understanding seemed to grace his features. Nonetheless, he obliged, backing up into the small clearing in front of your cabin. He glanced at you one last time, his expression mirroring one of guilt before you sent a rush of wind towards him in warning. His lips pursed, but his wings unfurled as they finally caught the wind, propelling him off the ground and into the air.

Just like that he was gone, leaving you breathing heavily. Sharp tremors still plagued you, and you clasped your shaky hands together in an effort to stop their incessant wrath. You stood there for a minute, out on the porch, listening to the wind whistle through the trees and the scurry of animals and no doubt other creatures that lurked in the forest. For the first time since you arrived at the cabin, you held a certain gratitude for the cold that bit at you, the temperature doing more to aid you in your attempts to ground yourself than much else.

You jumped when you felt a silky mist brush up against your arm, your form flinching as you turned around. You braced yourself, mentally preparing yourself to go toe to toe with a creature that inhabited the forest around you. But what you didn’t expect was to see another pair of wings and an entourage of shadows shrouding a man leaning against the doorway.

You were still shaking as you regarded him, you swallowed thickly, throat feeling like sandpaper. “How long have you been here?” You asked, voice trembling. You mentally cursed yourself, hand coming to rake through your hair. “A while.” He replied, his shadows still seemed to reach out to you, brushing up against you like they sensed your unease beyond your visible shakiness. Your eyes flickered to them for the briefest of moments before they trailed back to him.

“You knew where I was the whole time.” You said, the remark more of a statement than a question. He inclined his head towards you in a motion which told you that you were correct. “I think deep down we all know that he’s changed since Under the Mountain- you both have.” His arms were folded, sleeves rolled up to display the black ink that cascaded down his arms. Your wings folded in again, the action caught his eye, and he let out a sigh as his figure seemed to sag as he noticed how stand-offish you seemed.

You looked at your hands, the shaking seemed to have subsided the slightest bit as you ran your thumb over your palm. “Is he bringing her back?” You asked. You didn’t want to seem too eager to know the answer to the question, but you knew Azriel would rather you be upfront than try to bring it up later- especially not knowing when you were going to go back to Velaris.

Azriel looked at you for a long while, and you remained. You felt the worn-down wood of the cabin porch beneath your feet, the slight breeze that pushed your hair into your face, and the silence that rung between the two of you. Perhaps you knew the answer before he said it, perhaps you knew it before you had even asked the question, but it didn’t make it any less world shattering as he spoke.

“Yes.”

That one word, three letters that seemed to rip apart any hope you had left of Rhys seeing what it would do to his court, to Prythian, to you. Fifty years of suffering- the disregard of what Amarantha did to you- of what you went through in the Winter Court. You didn’t have it in yourself to be angry anymore, you felt your rage be ripped from you, violently and mercilessly. You felt the emotion rip out what was left in your chest until you were just... numb. You had given up, the dull throbbing echoing the hole in your chest like an agonizing melody. You hadn’t even been able to begin to feel the warm tears slide down your cheeks, gave no reaction, just asked in a wobbly, barely-there voice.

“To Velaris?”

Azriel’s jaw clenched.

“Yes.”

You didn’t say anything, let the silence linger in the doorway, you didn’t have anything to fill it with. Azriel pushed off the door, taking a step towards you like he was going to say something- try to say anything that could make this a little more bearable for you. But it was clear- you both knew it; Rhys had made his choice.

So you brushed past him, didn’t look at him- didn’t have to in order to know that he was reaching out to you, much like his shadows as they clung onto you like phantoms. But you ignored them, passing the threshold into the now cold cabin- the fire having gone out long ago.

And you closed the door.

[jillsandwhichs]

RE Character x Reader Smutshot Collection , Chap 3 , Crazy girl, even crazier husband

Masterlist

Pairing: Fem!reader x Leon Kennedy

Summary: Your husband and you go to the movie theatre to watch a new horror movie but this man just can't keep his hands off of you

Status of your guy's relationship in this oneshot: Married

WC: 6.1k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Zoowee mama there are so many, Making out, Fingering, Tongue licking, P in V, Sorta public sex ?? , No protection, Biting, He fucks you hard in an employee storage room so enjoy :p

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Window's rolled down, music on low, his hand on your thick thigh, your husband was driving you two to the move theatre in town. They were hosting some new random horror movie and the both of you thought it looked interesting, the idea to go on a date and watch it together randomly came up in a conversation last night. He's often times working so going out like this is rare, but whenever it happens, you absolutely cherish it, and so does he.

You could feel his fingers playing with the end of your skirt, occasionally gripping your thigh, his hand even leaving a mark. This is what he'd always do whenever he was driving and you were with him, he'd get you all riled up, all soaked up, and it's tortuous. The way his hand would slide up beneath your skirt was so painful, not literally, but he never even touched you, that made it painful. And half of the time, he doesn't even end up fucking you til way later or he doesn't at all. Such a man sometimes.

He wouldn't even acknowledge how horny you are either, he just knows, he loves making you feel all good inside just you leave you with nothing.

"We're almost there, by the way." You said softly, gazing out the window at the scenery outside. "Good to know, baby, thank you." Leon responded, his fingers trailing up her skirt again, just to simply not do shit. "Jesus Christ." You whispered underneath your breath, praying he wouldn't hear over the music. He was playing some song by Seether, it's all he ever listens to. You swear you know every song and every lyric by heart. Same with Hinder. This man and his early 2000s rock music, you swear.

The view on the way there was pleasant though. Mostly stores and other useless buildings but aside from that, you could spot tall & wide mountains in the distance. They're all able to be hiked too, you and Leon have done it before but in the summer heat, hell no. Luckily, it's autumn, no need to worry about that. Other than the mountains, the sky was gorgeous. That deep orange tint on the horizon was beautiful, it suited the night perfectly.

"What is this movie called again?" "It's called Smile, I don't know, looked creepy as hell." You spoke. "Yeah, yeah, the trailer was fucked." Leon snickered, one hand on the wheel still. "How much cash did you bring?" "Well, I brought my card, so a shit ton." Leon chuckled, "Using me for my money still, I see how it is." "What? You think there was another reason I married you?" You bit your lip, clearly, you were joking. He dug his nails into your thigh, causing your breath shutter. "Be quiet." He hummed, his teasing tone was deadly.

You couldn't help but let out a small giggle, he never fails to make you laugh. His humor is great, that's something you two bonded over immediately when you first met. You reminisce on that day often. Ever since, your life has been ultimately changed for the better. Leon was genuinely the light at the end of the tunnel for you, hopefully he feels the same way about you.

Just up a few more blocks was the movie theatre. This one is rather large, it was built more recently too. Only four years ago and it's held up well. When it was first built, you and Leon were still dating, now you're married, time flies by so quickly. The both of you have also been there a couple times before, about four times, each time was so nice. Leon really knows how to treat you. Every single date he takes you out on is special in it's on way. He's a miracle worker.

"Just up here." You whispered out, putting your phone in your little white purse that of course, Leon bought for you. He wasn't a poor man, rather wealthy. You don't know all too much about his job, he'd rather save the details, but from what you do know, he's a federal agent whose under the President, now that's saying something. And it all works out amazingly considering his love language is to spoil you with gifts, dates, travels, etc.. He truly never lets up on spending money on you.

"I know sweetheart." He leered, holding your thigh much more lightly now, his grip more gentle. "I'm praying they have sour patch kids." You snickered, Leon hummed at your comment. He's well aware it's your favorite candy... He's definitely spent hundreds on it. "Figured you'd say that." He snorted, pulling into the theatre parking lot. Surprisingly, it wasn't too packed. To your mental math, there was only ten or eleven vehicles, then again, it was a work night.

"Here we go." Leon grunted at he parked, taking the keys out of the ignition. "Grab my wallet for me, will ya doll?" "Yes babe." You replied, grabbing his wallet as you opened your car side door. Leon got out directly after, walking over to you. "Come here." He held his hand out. You handed him his wallet then grabbed a hold of his hand, squeezing it as you walked beside him. He was extremely tall, much taller than you. You were under 5'7, he was 6'2, you rather enjoyed the difference.

That instant hit of popcorn was glorious, it smelt like you'd just entered heaven. There was no one else in the lobby besides you and him, and obviously the workers. Not only did it smell so good, the decor was so retro, you loved the style of it. "I always forget how nice this place looks." You said in awe, loving the late '80s feel. "It is pretty." Leon huffed out before pulling his wallet out, "Go pick out whatever you'd like while I get out tickets." Your husband said deeply, pulling his card out.

You smirked at his words. You grabbed his arm and stood up your tippy toes to get to his ear, "Ask for popcorn please." You were sort of shy, you didn't wanna ask the employee yourself, plus you don't even have money to buy it, so. "I will, go on now." Leon chuckled as he then began to speak to the worker. You nodded, letting go of him and walking on over to the candy stand, they had a lot. But of course, your heart desired the sour patch kids the most, you grabbed them with haste.

You know Leon loves peanut M&Ms, he's always snacking on them, you grabbed a single pack of them for him as well. There was also some warheads in singular packaging, you grabbed ten, five for you and five for him, sour candy is your all time fav. You turned around, gazing over at Leon as he paid for you guy's tickets and the popcorn, you were excited for it. You were a foodie at heart, you could eat, and eat, and eat and never ever get tired of it. That's most likely why 80% of the dates you two go on are dinner dates.

Ambling back to your husband, you handed him the candy, your eyes locking on his. "Good, thank you." He smiled down at you, placing the sweets on the counter. "Good girl for getting my M&Ms." He whispered in your heart, his deep voice making your insides twist up like a pretzel, which was ironic due to the fact there were some in the hot food bar. "Heheh." You giggled, locking your arm with his, waiting on the popcorn.

"Your total is 16.20$." The woman behind the counter stated. Leon swiped his card through the machine, signing his signature too to verify the purchase. You grabbed the popcorn and Leon took your guy's candy, sliding the tickets into his back pocket. "Make it quick doll." Leon said from behind you as you began to butter it up. You loved the salty & savory popcorn, you'd drench it in that tangy yellow butter, but there is a point where it's too much.

Leon set his hands on your waist from behind you, his rough thumbs caressing the little sliver of skin showing from your shirt. You were wearing a tight shirt paired with your skirt, it had been awhile since the two of you went out so you thought it was cute. Despite only little bits of your hips showing, he still showed you he loved it. His nails lightly tickled at your midriff, watching you as you fixed up the food for the two of you. "All done?" "Done." You mumbled, turning around, his hands not moving though.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead gently before he then simply pressed his forehead against yours, "You're my everything." He hushly spoke. You were honestly caught of guard but maybe he was just in a lovey dovey mood...? "Love you too." You leered, kissing his lips swiftly, not wanting the employees to feel awkward. "C'mon baby, you know that ain't no kiss." He then gripped your chin, his lips settling upon yours for what felt like an eternity. You felt his tounge briskly swipe against your glossy lips, he could definitely taste the cherry.

He didn't go any further than that, pulling away after a few more seconds, "Let's go." He snickered, slipping his hand down your back as he lead you to the room. "You're so fucking crazy." You smacked his abs through his shirt. "Sorry, I just love you, is that so bad?" He acted sort of oblivious. Once again, he's such a man. "It's sooo bad." You dragged out your wording in a sarcastic manner, earning a titter from him. Making Leon laugh isn't too much of an accomplishment, he'll laugh at cat videos on the web.

"Just through here." Leon pushed the door open. The lights were still on too, proving the movie hasn't begun yet, luckily. There was only a couple other people in there, about five, they were all at the front. "Let's get in the back." Leon stated, gripping your hand firmly, "Why?" "Because I said so, be good and listen." He teased. You felt arousal stream over you when he said that, gosh, he's so good. You climbed up the stairs behind him, your hand still interlocked with his as you did so.

You two sat just a couple rows away from the very back, wanting to at least have a decent view of the massive screen. Leon sat down, then you did. "Here baby." You murmured, pulling the two ice cold water bottles from your purse. "Smooth criminal." He joked, taking his and placing it in it's holder. "Their drinks are more than their popcorn, it's ridiculous." You spat out, setting the popcorn in his lap. "Always making me hold it." "Mhm." You giggled. He glared at you, making your heart beat fast. You knew he was playing around but for odd enough reasons, it turns you the hell on.

You took the sour patch kids bag, ripping it out and setting it on the side of your leg, having it tucked between you and the seat. You'd save your warheads for later. "You gonna eat your candy?" "Maybe later, the popcorn is just fine for now." Leon assured you, taking a couple pieces in his mouth. Understandable. You ate a few pieces of your candy, the taste of them was immaculate, it could never get old.

-

After ten minutes or so of previews, trailers and commercials, the movie finally began. The lights went dark, setting the mood immensely. You could hardly see Leon's attractive face. "Finally." You uttered beneath your breath, taking some popcorn from his lap and eating it. The buttery, salty taste was too good, you practically moaned while eating it. The title card came on screen, the eerie noise playing in the background really suited the film from what you've seen.

At first, Leon wasn't paying too much attention to you, his eyes glued to the screen, he seemed to be into the movie so far. You tried to be, but that desirable burning feeling deep inside you wasn't doing you any justice. You could feel yourself pulsing, the mere thought of him had your panties soaked. He hasn't even done anything to crazy either, that's how good he is. He's such a dick sometimes. You can't even think about it, it makes you want him more. He can a man be so alluring?

As you snacked on your candy, you nearly lost your breath as you felt his hand slither onto your thigh, just as it was in the car earlier. Each one of his fingers caused an electric wave to course through you. The way they'd slightly lift off of your skin as they squeezed it, it was too much. You could feel as his pinky glided underneath your skirt, seemingly getting closer with his entire hand. "Movie is good so far, yeah?" Leon whispered to you, his hand going fully beneath your skirt now. Curse this man.

You didn't even reply, your body just simply reacted to his advances. You spread your legs open as much as you could in the tight chair, which wasn't too much but Leon definitely liked what you did considering he tightly gripped it, gaining a soft whimper out of you. "Look at how you responsive you are..." He murmured, not even glancing at you, making himself seem like he was just casually watching the film. At this point, you could care less about the fucking movie. You wanted his cock inside you. But maybe... His fingers would have to suffice.

"Finger me." You panted, looking at him, desperation plastered on your beautiful face. Leon didn't listen to your pleas, his pinky finger rubbing over your wet panties. That wasn't good enough, it never would be. You wanted him inside you, you wanted him to feel how wet you were for him. "Look how wet I am baby." You muttered. "Mmm, I can feel princess." He grunted, his entire hand planting itself onto your cunt through your undergarments, you whimpered quietly, needing to keep the act up.

"Please..." You gripped his arm. Leon sighed heavily, his eyes leaving the screen, his eyes locking on yours as he gandered down your body, taking the sight in. "So needy." He teased you. "You gonna stay quiet?" "Yes, I promise, please." You begged of your husband, your eyes never leaving his. "Don't make a single noise." He huffed out deeply, his voice husky. He pulled your dripping panties to the side, his index finger gliding through your wetness, causing you to sigh softly, not making a noise though. "Mmm." You murmured, resting your head against his fit arm.

His index finger continues to pick up your wetness, you could hear him sigh once more, "Fuck." He muttered, the sound of your sopping cunt was so fucking good to him. His fingers made their way to your nub, beginning to rub it with ease, a surge of pleasure bursting in your tummy as he did this. He made small yet fast circles on your clit, earning some subtle noises out of you ; Luckily, he didn't hear, the movie was starting to up itself in volume, good for you two.

"Does that feel good?" Leon purred out to you, his eyes shooting over to gaze at you, his eyes in a trance as he watched your face contort just by his touch. "Mhm." You moaned out hushly, your arms wrapped around his fit arm. "Good girl." He whispered, his fingers slapping your clit as they then went back down your slit, your wetness was practically dripping down your ass and onto the seat, sorry to the worker who'll have to clean your mess up...

His finger went all the way down before he then stuck it inside of you, your tightness grasping around it. Leon chuckled at how tight you were, you never fail to amaze him. He pumped his finger in & out of you, so moderately. "Gotta stay silent, remember that." Leon teased you, his thumb going to your clit, now fingering & rubbing you. This two in one deal was going to be the end of you. "Jesus..." You whimpered, your teeth sinking into his arm, causing him to only thrust his finger into you faster.

Your wetness was louder now, each time his finger went back into you, it sounded like a lemon being squeezed. You love biting Leon, he loves it too. One thing Leon especially loves is when he's fucking you, he's right on top of you, making you lose your sense of reality then you just bite down on his bulk shoulder. Gosh, he loves when you do that to him. His entire finger was drenched in your fluids, it was shining due to the bright lights emitting from the ginormous screen projector.

"Keep it quiet sweetheart." He whispered, a light snicker playing off his tongue. He was such an ass. He knows you can't be silent for much longer. He's bringing you closer and closer and closer to the edge. You fear if he keeps going at this rate, you'll cum and scream his name, like always. "It's so- so hard." You stuttered, your nails digging into his forearm fiercely. "Oh, you can do it." Leon praised you, he knows you can't.

As his singular finger continued it's work, you clenched around him even more as he slid another one in, this time curling each finger with every pump. No one in the theatre had noticed, surprisingly. All of them were mindless souls indulged in the film. You also really wanted to watch the movie, but fuck this was so much more needed than to watch some stupid horror flick. His thumb continued to rub your nub, the most sensitive nerve causing your brain to lose track of itself and your stomach to do flips like it's a gymnast.

"Leon... Baby..." You panted out, your hair getting messy from how much you've been tossing and turning your head. He didn't reply. His face was staring directly in front of him, acting all innocent, no one would suspect a thing... Yet he was finger fucking you, making your pussy clench around his fingers more tightly than ever before. His thumb was stroking your clit with pace, he was relentless on it. It was as if he was trying to gain a rise out of you and knowing him, he definitely was.

"Seriously." You whined, pressing your forehead against his upper arm. This man was going to be the fucking death of you.

"What is it?" He calmly said, still not looking at you whatsoever. "Fingers aren't enough, fuck me, I don't care about the stupid movie anymore." You said with an seductive tone. "Fingers aren't enough, huh?" He chortled as he began to finger fuck you at light speed. You instantly closed your legs, stopping all of his movements. "Don't." You squeaked, removing his hand from between your legs. Leon giggled, his hand gripping ahold of your cheeks sternly as he forced you to look up at him.

"You need me to fuck you?" "Yes baby, please." You mooched off your husband. You needed him and you need him at this current moment in time. "Well, where do you want to be fucked? In here? Where anyone could possibly see? In the restroom? In the car-?" "Let's find somewhere, please." You stated loud and clear, fixing your panties and skirt. Leon get go of your face. "Mmm, lead the way gorgeous." He held your hand, following behind you now. It felt powerful to take charge, to tell him this is what you want.

You both jogged down the stairs but acted as normal as possible, acting as if Leon wasn't just feeding into your dirty needs. Pushing open the wooden doors, you looked around and only saw a bathroom and other doors leading to another theatre area. Leon gripped your hand tighter, trying to indicate something to you. You spun around, looking back at the door behind you. "That's an employees only room!" "I doubt anyone is in here, c'mon." Leon laughed quietly.

He wrapped his hand around the knob, twisting it and pushing the door open. All that was in there was a table, some random movie posters and a counter, probably a type of break room. "Dammit, come here." Leon expired, grabbing your waist and pulling you against him. He lessened the space between the two of you as he smashed his needy lips against yours, his moving against yours in a passionate make-out.

Your arms went to his shoulders, holding onto them with care as you set your entire body against his. There was absolutely no stopping between kisses, it was constant. Heavy breathing and kisses were all that could be heard. Leon's hands went from your hips and down to your ass, gripping it hard as he licked your bottom lip, so badly wanting entry. You, of course, granted him exactly that. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed your ass, slapping it too, he tried to keep it down though. This is technically illegal, so...

As you two made out sexually, he pushed you up against the wall, his hands still beneath your skirt, going from playing with your rear and pussy repeatedly. You'd randomly feel his fingers against your clit for short periods of time. Your nails scratched into his shoulders, you were so into this. Your sense of relief was this. He knew what to do and how to do it to you. Leon's tongue swiped against yours, his practically engulfing yours. He loves doing this.

You slightly stuck your tongue out mid kiss, Leon immediately jumped at the opportunity. He swiped his tounge along yours so deliberately, the sensual texture of it causing your pussy to literally drip more than it was before. Leon then grabbed your chin, tilting it to get a better angle. His entire tongue licked yours, then he wrapped his lips around it, suckling. Your moved your hands from his face and down to his waist, holding onto his shirt for what felt like dear life.

After sucking on your tounge for a few seconds, he pulled away swiftly, pecking you once more and now kissing down your precise jawline. You tipped your head back, allowing him to gain more access. His kisses were so slow and gentle, he really took his time. His heavy breathing was so sexy, it showed how much he needed you. He truly yearned for your presence, your touch, your everything. "You smell amazing." Leon breathed in, giving the end of your jawline a quick nibble. You giggled, kissing his cheek before going back to the same position as before.

Leon smooched down your throat, relishing in your perfume and it's enticing smell. "Mmm, what scent babygirl?" "Honestly..." You began, "I don't fucking know." You chuckled, earning a snicker from him. He licked from the top of your neck and all the way down, leaving a strip of saliva just there. He kissed all along the strip, you couldn't help but whimper, each kiss and every lick was to die for. You couldn't get enough of him. Leon groaned, his hands holding your ass - He couldn't get enough of you.

Making his way down to the middle of your neck, his hot breath sat on that same spot for a few moments before you felt that painfully pleasing feeling of his teeth lightly sinking into your skin. "Fuck." You moaned, your nails sunk into his slim waist. You felt his tongue going erratic on your neck as he continued to bite you. "Leon..." You soughed out, tilting your head to the side even further, wanting him to leave more love bites on you.

Heading you call his name, he pulled away from your neck, he gave you a fast peck before pressing his forehead against yours. "What's wrong sweetheart?" Leon panted, his right hand on the side of your neck where he was just feasting upon you seconds ago. "You make me feel so good." "Yeah?" "Make me feel even better." You whispered, your arms now encasing around his neck, embracing him closely. "Oh babygirl." Leon sighed out, caressing your neck carefully. "I'll make you feel just fine."

Your husband turned around, scanning the room. "Lay down on that table." He snickered, stepping away from you. "Okay..." You giggled, walking over to it. You pulled yourself up onto it, sitting with your feet dangling off. "Lay back baby." Leon hummed out to you, his voice soft. You obliged, laying all the way on your back, your legs bent upwards on the table. You angled your head so you'd be able to watch him. He unbuttoned his black pants, allowing them to drop along with his underwear, revealing his hard cock.

You bit your lip with a giggle. You get so giddy seeing him this way, he's so sexy. "Don't look at me like that." Leon chuckled, placing both of his hands on each one of your knees. "I'll look at you however I'd like." "Oh? Is that so?" "Mhm." You cockily mumbled, placing your feet on his chest. Leon's large hands wrapped around your ankles, rubbing them lovingly as he stared you down. His eyes were lustful, darkness bursting in his iris's. "Look at you." Leon whispered, taking both of your socks off, setting them to the side. "What?" You sighed deeply, your cunt pulsing at his cooing tone.

Bringing one of your feet up to his face, he placed a kiss on the side of it, then on the other one. You weren't into all that feet stuff, neither was he, but Leon will and does kiss you absolutely everywhere. He set your feet back down. Leon's hands went towards your waist, holding onto it firmly as he quickly pulled you down the table, earning a surprised gasp from you. "A warning next time?" You scoffed. "No." Leon responded sternly, being playful with you, per usual.

His fingers trailed up to your panties, locking them into the waistband of them. "I'm so wet." "I know honey, so wet for me, hm?" Leon whispered seductively, never breaking eye contact with you as he pulled your cute white panties all the way off, taking them off of your ankles afterwards. You spread your legs widely for him, the entire view of your core at his service. It was like he was trying to make it not look obvious, but it was so clear he was gazing at you down there. "So beautiful." Leon complimented you, you were his wife after all.

Grabbing his erection, Leon jerked it a couple times, maintaining eye contact with you, only breaking it for a tiny bit to look down at himself. "You have me fucking pulsing." Leon grunted, wasting no time as he swiped his dick through your wetness. You moaned, staring up at him, his tip would stroke over your clit and make your center have an even bigger heartbeat, that's how it felt at least. "I love how I make you get." Leon continued. "All wet, needy, clingy... You're so pretty." Leon shared, kissing your knee again.

You nodded in reply, he was right, he does manage to make you feel all of those ways. "Yeah..." You muttered out.

Without zero warning, you felt him plunge into you with haste, his entire length being grasped around your warm heat. You felt your stomach twist and turn when he did this, it gained a whimper from you, a rowdy one. "Holy shit." You panted out, like a dog on a hot summer day. "Can't wait any longer." Leon cackled, his hands on your hips as he started his movements. Each thrust was life altering. It felt like you were in Heaven with what he was doing. His mouth was sort of open, you could hear his quiet gasps, you were making him feel a type of way too.

You held onto his wrists for stability as he fucked you, his thrusts were causing the entire table to shake, you didn't want it to break or something. "What if a worker hears us? Sees us?" "Well, they'll see a woman being fucked real good by her husband." Leon replied. Could he ever not be snarky? You rolled your eyes, looking to the side, your face contorting as you felt his member reach deeper inside of you. "Don't roll your eyes at me, doll." Leon stated, his hands still on your midriff.

You never looked back at him, your eyes were stained on the other side of the room. Not that you didn't wanna look at him, you just know it'll make you cum sooner, and even make him as well, and you really want to draw this out. His cock moved in and out of you repeatedly, he switched up the pace every other second. One moment he was fast & rough and the other he took it slow & deep. Both ways made your heart beat faster and faster each time.

"Why aren't you looking at me?" Leon groaned out, his left hand groping your tit through your shirt, squeezing it. You didn't answer, you couldn't, you knew if you tried speaking your speech would only be slurred. "Look at me." You didn't listen. You just held onto his arms with more strength, indicating you were going to lose yourself sooner or later.

Although, next thing you know, he stopped thrusting into you. This ticked you off but before you could get a damn word out, you felt the hand that was once on your breast, now pulling your face to face him. "I suggest you start listening." Leon brought himself down closer to you, his body over yours. You nodded your head leisurely, licking your lip, then biting it. His demands were music to your ears. His movements picked up again, but he forced you to look at him. Something about staring down at you as he made you feel certain ways was so convincing.

After a minute, he let go of your face, trusting you'll listen to him now. His hands rested on either side of your head, his dick still surging into your pretty pussy. You felt like there was an imaginary percentage bar of how long it'll take before your orgasm implodes on you, and with each pump, it fills that bar slowly yet surely. "Fucking hell you're so beautiful." Leon moaned, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, his breath could be felt there. "You're so handsome." You added, your hand going up to his hair, playing with it.

You had a feeling he was going to do it, but once he did, it made your core tighten even more than before. His teeth once again made their way into your neck, he bit down on it. "Leon..." You grunted out, your fingers flowing through his soft hair. His thrusts were more slow & deep now, as if he was getting tired or something. It was either that or he was trying savour this special time together. "I'm gonna cum soon." You admitted, your arms going around his head, holding him close to your body.

Leon didn't say a word, he just nibbled on your throat, kissing & licking it every so often. That sharp sting of his teeth was erotic, it made your stomach get closer and closer to granting you that ultimate pleasure - your climax. "Baby... Harder..." You begged, letting go of him and instead grasping the white table underneath you. Once more, hit nibbled your neck, then your slender shoulders, before his face pulled back, going to stare at you again. "Harder?" Leon questioned, his moments all the same. "Yes, please." You tittered, your body so heated up.

Your husband did what he does best - please you. He began to fuck you, it wasn't anything vanilla, no, this was hard. Each thrust was rougher and rougher. Your eyes looked up into his, you could feel that they were watery, you looked innocent, like a doe in front of headlights. Leon looked back at you, his eyes much different. They are loving, yes, but also sexual desire was all behind them, his eyebrows also added onto the darkness of his face. "Don't look at me like that." The man grunted, closing his eyes as he pumped into your tight center.

"No, no, look at me, Leon." You reached up, holding onto his face. Now it was his turn. Leon slowly opened his eyes again, much more coherent than you were earlier. "Yeah..." You murmured, your hands caressing his scruffy cheeks.

Coming onto you was your orgasm, your initial release. You could feel how close you were, each thrust only brought you more and more to the edge. With his dick twitching inside you, you knew he was close to cumming as well. Your stomach was providing you with that all familiar feeling - The feeling of ultimate pleasure. Each time he fucked into you, your breasts would bounce, now that he was going much harder, they didn't get a break. Both of Leon's hands held onto your tits, he continuously squeezed them, he was like a teenage boy with how he was about boobs.

Leon gandered back up from your breasts and back at you, he never realized you were still staring at him. This, oh, it sent him over the edge. Your water colored eyes were like a death trap for him ; In this case, a sexual trap. "Fuck, why do you do this to me..." He grunted as he pumped only a couple more times into your cunt, his seed filling you, you felt the warm liquid shoot inside. "Why would you look at me like that?" Leon moaned, moving into you with short, fast thrusts, wanting to get you finished too.

You didn't reply, instead you just pulled his face down to yours, pressing your lips to his. Leon breathed out against your face, kissing you back passionately. You held the back of his head & neck, relishing in this moment. "Oh I love you." You moaned. "I love you too babygirl." He grunted, his cock still deep inside of you. "Cum for me princess." Leon began, "Have your pussy tighten around me." He stated, his voice husk.

Your breath shuttered when he spoke like that. He was so hot, every word he spoke made you feel all sorts of ways. You couldn't help it, even though you wanted to. You kept your lips against his, your tongue intertwined with his as you suctioned his length inside of you. Your orgasm withdrew you from the real world, your eyes practically rolling in the back of your head, surprised you couldn't see your own damn brain. "That's what I like to see." Leon paused his movements, just admiring his wife as she came all around him.

Both of you just sat there, your body felt super limp, you could feel his cock was soft inside of you. Everytime you guy's finish making love, it's like this. It's like the two of you are at a loss for words. You were still wet, you definitely needed to clean yourself up. You looked around the room, analyzing it. There was a paper towel dispenser by the sink on the other side of the room. "Could you please grab me some of that." You asked your husband. "Sure thing." He sighed gently, pulling out of you and heading over there.

Leon snatched up a few pieces of the towel, bringing it over to you. He didn't hand you them, instead he cleaned you up himself. You just watched him, heaving softly whilst doing so. He was a great husband. "Thank you baby." "Course doll." Leon replied kissing your inner thigh before helping you get back on your feet. "I'm not wearing these." You giggled, setting your panties aside. "Give them to me." He held his hand out. You rolled your eyes playfully, giving him your soaked underwear.

Your eyes widened as he sniffed them, the scent wearing off of them drove him crazy. As he pulled his own pants back up, he tucked your panties into his pocket. "Don't move around to much, I don't need your ass or pussy being flashed to the world." Leon chuckled, adjusting your shirt, you nodded in reply. He was right. "Let's go finish whatever time we have left of the movie." Leon whispered to you, his hand on your cheek firmly as he kissed you once more before the both of you made way back.

[cassafrassie]

the nerve - (also on ao3) length: 2,535 words rating: T (teenaged kissing)

This is the last time, the last time! Pacifica thinks as she's jumping into the passenger side of Dipper's beat-up old pickup. Next to her, Dipper slams his own door and quickly smacks the lock button, eyes scanning the forest beyond the wide windshield. 

"I think we're clear," he says, before spinning to Pacifica excitedly. “Did you get a load of the size of that guy?!” 

“I didn’t see much as I was a little busy running for my life!” Pacifica gasps, clutching her chest.

Dipper picks up his camera. “Oh man. This was a good one. I think I got some good shots,” he continues, flipping through the display.

“Dipper! He nearly killed us!”

“Oh Paz, we were fine,” he replies confidently, still looking at his pictures. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He looks up, reaches over and bops her on the nose, smearing more mud on her already dirty face.

The nerve.

Pacifica glares at him. He always gets like this after monster hunts. Dipper has a cocky streak that usually lies pretty dormant, but something about the shot of the adrenaline that he gets after narrow escapes makes it rise to the surface. At least that’s her theory. The worst part is that can’t pretend she totally hates it, even if it’s currently raising her hackles.

“I’m beginning to regret giving you that thing,” she says, gesturing to the camera.

“No you don’t.” He spins to her and points the lens in her direction. “Who else would take all those pictures of you for “the gram”?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice. He clicks the shutter and Pacifica is blinded by the quick flash.

She rolls her eyes and pushes the camera away, but lets a small smile play on her lips. That photo won’t see the light of day. She’ll make sure of that. Both she and Dipper are absolutely covered in forest filth, and she makes a mental note to swipe the memory card before he drops her off at home later.

Dipper grins, thinking he’s won this round, and reaches behind his truck’s bench seat to place the camera in the rear of the cab. Twisting back, he fiddles with his keys and the ignition until the old clunker finally turns over.

Pacifica lets her mind wander as he navigates them out of the clearing he parked in and back to the main road. Picking leaves from her hair while she watches the trees pass by her window, she wonders why it is that he only lets this side of him come out when they’re alone. Dipper has come a long way from the insecure prepubescent boy she met five years ago, but he’s still pretty reserved and serious in mixed company. When it’s just the two of them, or the two of them and Mabel, it’s like he lights up. He’s sillier, more relaxed, more outspoken, more… is heroic the right word?

And it does things to her, to say the least. And they’re going to have to talk about it soon, because she strongly suspects he’s been feeling… things… too.

She started noticing it when their afternoon monster hunts began turning into twilight strolls around the lake, the two teen’s fingers brushing up against one another as they circled it. When hugs of relief after narrowly escaping death for the umpteenth time began to linger just a little too long. When he grabbed her hand while helping her down a steep rock face, and then held it the whole way home.

She knows a confession is imminent. That he’ll address the shift, the obvious destination they have been barreling toward with increasing velocity.

And sometimes she lets herself fantasize— because why not? She’s a seventeen-year-old girl, isn’t she? She’s allowed to have her little daydreams. She indulges in visions of confessions in a meadow of shimmering flowers. Maybe she’s wearing a long gown that fluttered in the wind. Maybe he brings roses and rides up on a white stallion and sweeps her up and into his lap as the orchestra swells and the credits run and…

Okay yes, she’s getting carried away. So sue her.

She chances a glance at him now. His eyes are trained on the road, hands responsibly placed at ten and two on the steering wheel, easy smile playing on his lips. He must sense her watching him though, because his eyes suddenly dart over to meet hers.

She meets his gaze, gives him a small, reckless smile that clearly carries a secret meaning that they just haven’t put words to just yet. She expects to receive the same smile from him, just as she has so many times before—and especially recently—but instead he just studies her seriously, and she can see the gears spinning in his mind. 

His mouth straightens into a determined line as his eyes snap back to the road. Without warning he twists the steering wheel to the right and Pacifica shrieks as he haphazardly directs the truck to a turnout overlooking the valley below. The truck bounces to a rough stop, and Pacifica snaps her head to look at him.

“What are you doing?” she gasps, more confused than angry.

He kills the engine, quickly unbuckles both their seatbelts and twists fully to face her. His cheeks are flushed, eyes focused. He honestly looks a little manic, Pacifica thinks.

Dipper takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opens his them, he reaches a grime covered palm toward her equally dirty cheek. He smiles sweetly, and his palm cups her face, one thumb lightly tracing a path across her cheekbone.

“Paz,” he starts, smile broadening as he says her name. “There’s something I wanna tell you.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. He was not seriously doing this right now! Not like this! Not covered in mud and leaves and god knows what else, crammed in the front seat of his dilapidated old truck on the side of the road, heartbeat just beginning to return to normal after escaping whatever grumpy cryptid that was that they had woken early from hibernation.

Is he freaking kidding me?!

She watches her hopes of horseback rides into the sunset dissolve in front of her eyes. Disintegrated by the sweat, foliage and mud coating them both.

“Dipper! Now?? I look terrible!”

“I think you look great!” he says and the worst, most terrible part is that she can tell he is being completely sincere.

“I’m covered in mud, Dipper.“

“Maybe I like it,” he smirks, a move that Pacifica knows he thinks is charming.

“You’re a freak,” she deadpans.

Dipper leans in closer, looks her right in the eyes.

“Your freak?” He smiles, hopefully.

Oh my god seriously? He’s such a sap.

Pacifica groans and rolls her eyes, but she also has to fight to keep the corners of her lips from tugging into a smile. She can feel for cheeks warming, and she knows he knows.

“I’m sorry, that doesn’t qualify as a response. You’ll have to use English,” he teases.

“Fine,” she drawls.

“Fine what?”

She is going to murder him. MURDER HIM.

“Oh you know what!”

“I really don’t Paz, did you have something important you wanted to tell me?”

She wants to slap that stupid grin off his face. Or kiss it.

“Dipper!” she whines.

“Hey I’m just trying to get clarity here!”

“Dipper if this is your way of asking a girl out then it’s no wonder you’ve never had a girlfriend before. You’re impossible,” she says crossing her arms and straightening her back.

“Okay okay,” he laughs, settling down. “I’m sorry.” He turns to her, smile sweeter, more earnest. “Let me start over.”

He untangles her crossed arms, grasping her hands with his free one. She feels a shiver at the way his one hand can hold both of hers. When did that happen? She stifles the distraction as she refocuses on what he’s saying.

“Pacifica. You’re one of my best friends,” he continues. “You’re smart, self-assured, funny, a huge dork”— Pacifica opens her mouth to protest but he puts a finger to her lips—“you are, and it’s one of my favorite things about you.”

She scoffs, but lets him continue, cheeks growing warmer.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on, but that’s just the icing on the cake. Because the way I feel about you comes from so much more than that.” He takes a breath, rubs his thumb on her cheek once, and she melts a little. “Pacifica, I...“

Here it comes, she thinks. She gives him a small, encouraging smile, waiting to hear him say the words she’s been imagining in her daydreams, for him to confess that his “like” of her has turned into the special kind. The “like like” kind.

Pacifica figures maybe it’s okay that this is the way it happened. It’s more them. But still, she would have appreciated flowers maybe. She doesn't presume that his feelings for her run deep enough as to justify red roses, but pink maybe... 

“…I’m in love with you.”

Wait. What?

Pacifica's brain struggles to rewind and playback, and she ends up just blinking at him for a moment.

“You’re in love with me?” she asks, and her voice sounds so terribly soft to her ears.

“Yeah,” Dipper confirms, face bright red beneath the dirt.

“You love me?” she repeats.

“Yes,” he says again, laughing a little, nervously. But he nevertheless moves his hand from her cheek down to circle the side of her throat, pushing his fingers into her hair.

“No one has ever loved me before,” she says, matter of fact.

“Oh Paz, your parents love you. I know they’re tough on you but I’m sure—“

“No. No I mean like the different kind of love. Like, the voluntary kind. When you don’t have to love someone, you just do. When it’s not because of blood, or because you want their life, or clothes, or ponies. When you just like them. No one has loved me like that.”

He studies her a beat.

“I do,” he says, finally, firmly, not breaking the eye contact. Not taking his hands from her.

Her head feels light, and she’s vaguely aware of that he cheeks are wet. But then she surges forward, and crashes her lips to his, because she can’t not. There’s a magnetic force pulling her in a way she can’t control.

Dipper’s lips are chapped and crusted in dirt, but they’re warm and his she immediately thinks that kissing him is about to be one of her favorite pastimes, and why did they wait so long to do this again?? Dipper responds to her kiss instantly, opening his mouth and seeking entry to hers, which she grants without hesitation. The hand in her hair ventures up to grasp at the back of her head, pushing their lips closer still, as his other wraps around her lower back and tugs her closer to him on the bench seat. Her own needy hands run up his chest to grab the lapels of his flannel, holding him to her as she shifts forward and up on to her knees, eventually ending up straddling his lap. Dipper moans into her mouth and his hands move to grasp her hips, but then he stops, pulls back slightly and takes in a sharp inhale of air, letting it out slowly in what appears to be a practiced attempt to calm himself down.

“You don’t know what you do to me, Paz,” he chuckles, finally, leaning his forehead on hers.

“I could do more,” she says softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“I wouldn’t say no to that.” He leans back in his seat, arms loosen around her waist but not letting go. A smug smile plays on his lips. “I’m winning the romance game now, anyway. You gotta catch up.”

She senses a challenge here, which she knows he knows will always pique her interest. She arches an eyebrow.

“How so?”

“Well, I’m the one who said something first. In my book that means I’m leading you in romantic gestures.” He gives her a pointed look. “And confessions, too, actually. I might remind you.”

She laughs. “Okay, dork. I love you too. Even?”

“I mean technically I said I was in love with you. So, I still win.”

“Well I’m in love with you too, then!”

“No copy catting,” he says, grinning as his hands raise to her neck and he leans in.

Her giggles are muffled by his lips once again and she lets him push her back in the seat, tipping her backward until she pivots and is laying down with him hovering over her. He peppers her face with sloppy kisses and works his way down her neck, still a little grimy and sweaty, and Pacifica grins as she thinks that white stallions in springtime meadows might be overrated.

------

Later that night, Pacifica finds herself freshly showered and wearing some spare sweatpants of Mabel’s that she swiped while the latter is out at the movies with Candy and Grenda. She’s cuddled on the couch in the Mystery Shack’s living room, brand new boyfriend— also clean and smelling of mint and evergreen—next to her with a lazy arm stretched around her. She tugs up the blanket they share to her chin and tucks her face into the crook of his neck, kissing it lightly as Dipper begins stroking her hair.

“You know, the reason I’ve never had a girlfriend isn’t because I would suck at asking them out,” he says, after a while. “I happen to think I did pretty darn good here.”

“Settle down, Casanova, you got lucky this one time,” she mumbles, smiling into his neck.

He ignores this, persists in his point.

“You know the reason I haven’t had a girlfriend.” He says, turning so his lips brush the top of her head.

She does, but she wants him to say it. She looks up at him through her eyelashes. “Mmm?”

“Because I’ve only had eyes for one girl since I was fourteen.”

“And who was that?”

“Well I think you know her…”

“Oh?”

“Mhm… gorgeous, witty, bit of a brat…”

“She sounds great.”

“Yeah, she sure thinks so.”

“What stopped you from asking her out?”

“Well I wasn’t sure how she felt for a long time.”

“I bet she was crazy about you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, she probably liked your courage, your heart, your smile, your cute floppy hair—“

A loud groan carries into the living room from the kitchen, and Stan strides into the room, making a beeline for the front door.

“Okay, you two have officially crossed over from sweet to gross. Let me know when the honeymoon phase is over, til then I’ll be somewhere where the air doesn’t cause my blood sugar to spike.”

The two teens freeze, then burst into laughter as soon as the door slams behind the old man.

Dipper turns Pacifica in his arms to face him.

“Well would you look at that. Now we have the house to ourselves,” he smirks.

“Look at that,” Pacifica agrees, grinning.

[tropes-and-tales]

The Coolness of the Shade

(Oberyn Martell x F!Reader)

CW:  Fluff, non-smutty smooching, references to past smutty times, language, mention of pregnancy, a mention of Ellaria. 18+ to be safe.

Word Count:  1312

AN:  This was originally requested from a "gentle prompt list" ("lazy kisses that don't even count as kisses but you could live in that moment forever because LOVE") by @elegantmusicdragon!

Tales of Prince Oberyn Martell precede him through Westeros, into Essos, and likely beyond.  You wonder sometimes if there’s some giant in his cave in the Frostfangs, swaddled in fur and coated in a rime of ice that has heard of the Red Viper and his prodigious appetites in love.

If that’s so, the giant would likely miss the hidden truth of your prince and lover:  that yes, of course many of the stories are true because Oberyn is without shame and without prejudice in who he loves…but that his outsized love extends beyond the salacious moments in the bedchamber or brothel. 

To put it crudely (which Oberyn would love, because he so loves to hear the filthiest words falling from your ladylike mouth):  the Red Viper’s cock may be large, but his heart is larger.

To put it more delicately (which your dearly departed septa would love, because she toiled so tirelessly to mold your wild person into a semblance of a lady):  Oberyn may love a person with his body, but the love he grants them from his heart is a far more precious thing.

-----

It is the custom of the Dornish to retire during the noon hour, when the sun is at its peak and the heat shimmers across the city and desert.  They laze by fountains or in the shade of the lemon or olive groves, they drowse in their beds with the curtains drawn.  They take a small meal, then relax behind the thick stone walls of their homes, the shutters fast across their windows to keep the sun and heat from penetrating.

You and Oberyn retire too; his rooms at Sunspear are cool, and even the balcony that overlooks the royal garden is deep and shaded.  The two of you lie across a wide divan heaped with silken pillows on his balcony, and a nearby table holds an ewer of water infused with lemon and mint.  There are little bowls of snacks—dates, berries, almonds dusted with ginger—but you work at a ruby-red pomegranate, separating the juicy arils from the bitter white flesh.

“You look like someone out of a myth,” Oberyn says from where he’s sprawled against the divan.  “Some temptress with her fruit, ready to cause an innocent boy to sin.”

You laugh lightly.  “I’m less a temptress and more the tempted.”

“Is that so?”

“I seem to recall a certain feast in Honeyholt.  A certain celebration of a Beesbury daughter’s betrothal to a Karstark.  There was wine, jousting, mummers—”

“Sounds festive.”

You nod, and you free another aril to pop it in your mouth, the tart juice bursting on your tongue as you bite down.  “I also seem to recall a certain man, temptation himself, slipping between the silk panels of the Beesbury daughter’s tent, slipping past her dozing septa, and offering her a glimpse of what her married life might hold.”

“Temptation himself,” Oberyn muses.  “Sounds wicked.”

Another nod.  “Oh, he was.  Wicked with his tongue and his fingers and then finally his cock.  Before the sun rose over Honeyholt the next morning, both the Beesbury daughter and Temptation were long gone, leaving only a broken betrothal and a furious father behind.”

Oberyn hums at that, and he reaches out and grasps your wrist lightly, tugs you down to where he lays. 

“And a shattered reputation,” he adds.  “And more pleasure and love than the Beesbury daughter could have ever received from dour old Karstark.”  He pauses, then adds, “and I love it when you say cock, my love.  Such a blunt word in such a pretty mouth.”

You dip your head and kiss him gently.  “I think, on the balance, the Beesbury daughter is quite happy with her choice.”

“And Temptation is glad to hear it, because he is quite happy with her choice too.”  He waits until you start to draw away from him, then tugs you back, kisses you again.  He opens your mouth with his, but his tongue slips against yours lazily, like he’s tasting you but happy to do little else.

“Come, my disgraced Lady Beesbury.  Lie down with me.”  He pulls you down, helps you stretch alongside him, but he doesn’t press his advantage in the heavy noon heat.  In the coolness of the shade of his balcony, he only kisses you:  gentle presses of his lips on yours, the sweet, slow slide of his mouth on your jaw, your neck. 

You kiss him back:  the crown of his head, his forehead, the slope of his nose.  His temples, the rough stubble on his cheeks.  You don’t press your advantage either; you still are not used to the heat of Dorne, the necessity of pausing a productive workday.  In Honeyholt, your noon hour was when the commoners would petition your Lord Father, when Cook began preparing for the evening meal, when the servants hung wet linen to dry in the breeze.  You often took strolls through the gardens, the heavy buzzing of the hives an accompanying melody.

This is different, but it’s not unwelcome.  A daily moment to spend time with Oberyn, to relish each other’s company, to wrap yourself in each other’s arms and exchange kisses without heat but with plenty of love.

Oberyn kisses you again on your mouth, then breaks away.  He lays a gentle palm on the back of your head and guides you to lie against his chest.  He’s in a light linen robe, but it’s open, and your cheek brushes against the smattering of hair there.  You can hear his heart, strong and steady, under your ear. 

The two of you lay in silence for a long moment.  There’s little sound other than a breeze stirring the leaves in the lemon trees below, a bird chirruping nearby. 

“I may have been Temptation,” Oberyn finally says, his voice a low rumble.  “But who could resist you?  The sweetest flower about to be torn out at the root and taken to the cold North.  You would have never flourished there.”

You feel the tiniest stab of loyalty for your would-be husband, now dead since the past year.  “Lord Karstark was a kind enough man.  Only gruff.”

“Northern men never treat their women well.  Little more than broodmares to continue their paltry bloodlines.”

You laugh, turn your head enough to press a kiss to his bare chest.  “Ah, so says Prince Oberyn, father to…how many is it, now?”

“Eight.  Eight daughters.”   His arm that holds you tightens around your shoulders, but his free hand reaches up and cups your breast lightly, then slides lower, under the edge of your gown.  He lays his palm gently against your belly that has only begun to round with his child.  “And perhaps a ninth daughter.”

You smile.  It is too early, but you imagine the child turning towards Oberyn’s hand, sensing him, feeling the love the Red Viper already has for this unknown child—the same love he bears all his children.

“Or perhaps a son,” you reply.

“And then afterwards, perhaps a tenth child…and an eleventh…”  His palm caresses you.  You know he loves the making of his children, but he also loves watching them grow in their mothers.  Ellaria had warned you with a knowing smile, but you had not quite believed her until you experienced it for yourself.  The moment you told Oberyn that you had missed your monthly courses, he was insatiable:  keeping you abed for days, as if he hadn’t already planted his seed, as if more love-making could somehow fix the growing babe firmer into you.

But he doesn’t press his luck now.  He only holds you in the cool shade, drowses with you, kisses you from time to time.  Just you, the Beesbury daughter and your tempting prince, and the child you made together…all three resting in the noon hour in Dorne.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Run Away To Me (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, intentional harm (in the recent past), blood, angst, protective Johnny, hurt/comfort, pining, speedy relationship, etc.

A/N: Johnny sweaty and working the forge...that is all.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You groggily awoke to the steady sound of a hammer meeting metal and the scent of eggs. Warm bread makes your mouth water. Eyelids peeling back, your lashes flutter in even intervals as you groan in the back of your throat, content and unbothered in this soft bed of fur and cotton. For a moment you had forgotten everything that had transpired—the run and the rain slamming into your scalp.

Had it all been some dark dream? A trick? 

“Ow!” You hiss, hand darting out from the plush covers as a sharp pain darts through it. Your eyes blink on the bloody bandages, white now completely bled through with fresh crimson. 

Everything comes rushing back in a lightning-strike moment of realization. 

Quickly sitting up, your face moves all over the sun-lit room, rays of light leaking in through the opened shutters; past the glass of the windows, the nearly violent green of the near forest line meets your wide gaze. A small sound exits your throat, fingers sliding through the bear fur that had been once pulled up to your ears as you gather your senses. 

Johnny. The blacksmith.

Your eyes lock onto the small table across the room. 

As the hammering outside continues to ring in your eardrums, you tilt your head at the items sitting atop—slipping off the bed you go to tidy the fur but pause in your curiosity. A patch of blood from your wound stains the sheets and you slow at the sight, the air leaving your lungs.

“Oh,” you swallow down your slight nervousness, heart jumping for a moment as you bite your lip. 

You would have to tell Mr. MacTavsish—your brows furrow. 

Not Mr. MacTavish, he asked me to call him Johnny. A strange thing, now that you thought about it as you slowly back away and go to the table, gut rumbling at the sight of fresh eggs on bread. There was also a parcel covered in cloth sitting on the chair. 

Carefully tiptoeing, you grab the plate with a delicate hand, picking it up as you lick your lips. Had the man…made you breakfast? 

“What reality have I slipped into?” Your lips whisper, Johnny’s clothes hanging off of you heavily. Not only food but milk had been poured into a carved cup as well, and utensils placed on the table with care. Fork and knife on the right, spoon on the left; all forged and tempered. 

It was sweet, perhaps. Kind. 

You eat standing, bare feet taking you around the homestead as you listen to the blacksmith work outside. Your hands take up carved knick-knacks of animals, twirling them in a hand as you lick your lips before placing them back with all the care of a priceless possession. Chuckling at the poorly wooden face of a deer, you bring the last bits of food to your lips as you pass the window. 

Sucking in a swift breath, your body freezes. 

Perhaps it was the sudden freedom of your situation or even the want of true, honest, companionship, but you had suddenly never seen someone look as good as kind Johnny MacTavish as he worked his forge. 

The earth was still layered in dew and mist, the distance between the main home and the small hut that was holding anvil, tongs, the flame of the furnace itself, and a great number of hammers. One of which was being wielded with firm efficiency by the sweat-stained hands of Johnny—being brought down again and again to the molten form of what would be a fine sword. 

Clothed in a rolled-back white tunic, like the one from yesterday, and brown breaches, there was a leather apron tied ‘round his waist cinched tight. Lips parting, you watch with a guilty conscious for the frailness of your resolve; gaping at the sight. 

Johnny works like the dead might rise, not faltering or slowing in the abuse of the metal—twisting the rough shape of the blade and flipping it with one hand while the other hammers. How he doesn’t overheat you’d never know; letting out a slow breath as the sweat slips down his strong jaw and drips from his chin, mouth open with a far-off pant of air. 

Electricity of the same breed as last night sizzles down your spine like a finger caressing the knobs of bone, hairs standing on end as you quickly clear your throat against the burn of your face. You shift your body away, fearfully aware of the scent of Johnny’s clothes and the very bed you had slept in last night. 

“My parents will never allow me back into their home,” you utter, picking at your bandages. “I shall never even be seen in the very air near them.” 

But the true question was whether or not that was a good thing. While this freedom of yours was what you wanted, you were a woman of relative standing—having no family, no husband, and no money to your name was not ideal. In fact, it could very well be the death of you. 

You stand and lightly lick your fingers of crumbs. “At the very least,” the wood under your feet is warm from an only recently dead hearth, “this Blacksmith is quite good with meals. Such a peculiar man, hm?”

Smiling to yourself, you chuckle and push back the heat in your blood; this odd attraction to a working man. So different from Lord Wilkin. 

Not wanting to sink back into that hole quite yet, you remember Johnny’s hands slipping over yours as you take a final glance back out the window before heading back over to the table. Cobalt eyes meet yours in an instant of wide shyness through the glass. 

Staring at each other, the Blacksmith's legs shift from where they dig into the packed ground, large biceps tight as they hold the hammer and the dulling metal. 

Blinking quickly, you feel your heart skip beats at the soft contact. 

Smiling awkwardly, you raise the empty plate in display, chuckling as a wide, pleased, grin builds on Johnny’s face. He mocks a small bow, hammer going across his abdomen as his dirty cheeks peel back at his glee—you see his chest move with a deep laugh. Like the scent of lavender in your nose, you can call the sound of it to your ears as if he was in the house all this time. 

Quickly skittering away, you feel giddy, placing down your plate and taking a sip of milk before looking at the parcel. While your mind may be mingling with the blacksmith and the sweat of his body, curiosity was getting to you. And, mayhaps, a shyness at being caught.

It was covered in dark cloth, and when you touch it, the fabric immediately reminds you of a cloak—an expensive and finely spun wool dyed green. Lips parting, your hands pick it up and place it on the table; turning it over as you pull at the twine tie. 

Your heart seems to grow like a flower, the pedals opening and the stem becoming strong with a rush of admiration. 

“When did you do this, Blacksmith?” Your voice hits off the walls in a breathy gasp as the hammering picks back up outside. 

Smiling delicately, you pick up the fine linen of a chemise and the paired kirtle dyed deep blue. It wasn’t the most extravagant thing you’d worn by a long shot but as you step back and size it to your body, you decide that it was the most meaningful. 

When had he gotten up to ride into town and buy this for you? How much did it cost? 

How could this blacksmith be as chivalrous as a Knight? Not wanting you to be forced to wear his own clothes in a way unflattering to your status even if you didn’t truly care about all of that.

You had no answer, body vibrating with warmth as you slipped out of Johnny’s sleep clothes and slid the gifted items over your skin. They were slightly oversized for ease of the man’s mind, not knowing your measurements. With a small bronze clip, you situate the cloak before the boots at the door add to the already bursting emotions in your veins. 

Tears burned the back of your eyes, putting your fingers to your lips to hide the shaky inhale. All of this care after such horror was nearly unthinkable; by a complete stranger no less. 

Your own family had never been so generous. 

Taking up your now empty cup, you look to the water basin and let your ears twitch to the sound of physical labor; thinking, wanting to give even just a sliver of thanks back for this debt. As you lace your new boots, leather, you keep the memory of his calloused hands in the front of your skull with honied sanctity. 

You fill the cup and that’s that.

Cheeks heating, you bring the water with you as you exit the home, breathing down the scent of rain and pulling your cloak tighter to your neck at the slight chill. Closing the door, you make your way to Johnny who continues to work away, now a small distance from the anvil and setting the iron back into the fire to heat. 

His large back flexes and rolls with the movement.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the cup stays steady in your two hands as you see Johnny’s muscles momentarily tense, blue eyes turning to look over his shoulders. There’s a moment where something swirls in his eyes as he stares down at your new clothes, standing up to his full height quickly. You blink. “...I’m sorry, but besides an offer of fresh water I’m unable to repay you for the gifts.”

“Ah,” Johnny clears his throat, looking back to his forge before turning back to you with a bashful look. “Please, none of that. I needed to go off and grab more grain for my horse, see.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad they fit, Dearie, was a bit worried I’d asked the wrong size.” 

“They’re perfect,” you shake your head. “It was…far more than I deserve.” 

Brows furrow. For such a presence, he slips the cup out of your hands with more care than your husband-to-be had ever thought to handle you, nodding a deep thank you.

“Now why would you say something like that?” Your head tilts, lips thinning. You suppose it was right to make good on the deal you’d struck last night. 

Johnny takes a sip from the cup, waiting for your answer as one hand hangs from the neck of his apron, fast lungs steadily slowing. As you frown and gather your thoughts, you don’t notice his eyes narrowing, concerned. 

“Well, anyways,” he clears his throat, itching at his stubble to change the subject as you startle back to reality before you can form a sentence. “I suppose I’d better take a look at that cut of yours, then, eh? Wouldn’t want it to get infected, do we?” 

“That’s not…” He has already darted to a small chest in the corner of the open hut, cup placed on the anvil top before he opens the thing with a scratch of rusty hinges. “...necessary.” 

The blacksmith laughs, taking out fresh badges. 

“I don’t think gettin’ bedridden is in your plans, now is it? C’mon…I’ll be gentle.” Johnny winks with a smirk and your pulse flares; stuttering as he grasps your elbow—leading you out of the forge and to a small break in the trees. 

A stump and a dead firepit take form, and you’re plopped down to the wood with a small huff, a stiff look sent to the man who only smiles and raises an eyebrow. 

“Is my kindness wearin’ ya down, Little Lady?” 

“You’ll make me lose my head and I’ve only known you for, at most,” you emphasize as he kneels down and takes your bloody hand, “half a day.”

“Being generous,” Johnny hums, unwrapping your hand and once again looking you over. Bloody, but still alright. His fingers move to pick up dew from the grass and wipe away some of the crimson pigment as if an artist. “When one goes and nearly makes a man’s house crumble from the force of ‘er fists, it’s only customary for him to respect her.” Blue eyes gaze up to you and twinkle. “I’m just savin’ my own hide.” 

“How honorable,” you shake your head and turn to hide the full-face grin, moments later laughs slip your tongue. “They weren’t that loud,” your vise insists, “...were they?”

“Thought the world was ending,” Johnny says it was a fake expression of seriousness, re-wrapping your hand in clean cloth. “Damn near got to my knees and prayed.” 

You find great amusement in that, placing a hand over your mouth as your spine shakes with loud laughs. The scene is similar to the one from last night—the blacksmith offering jokes and merriment to get you to laugh. It's as if every time he succeeds he smiles just a smidge wider. Realizing this, you feel your lips twitch and you look away, embarrassed.

“...I promised you answers, did I not?” You decide to ask, deciding that getting this over soon was the best course of action; also the more courteous one. After so much giving, you had to share at least the reason for all of this. “I’m sorry.” Johnny frowns at you, tying another loose knot atop your palm before sitting back on the ground. 

On his bent knee, he rests his arm, hanging off loosely, while the other hand rests behind his back as a way to keep him upward. With all of this, with him, you'd entirely forgotten to mention the stained sheets. 

“There’s no need to apologize to me, Dearie, I won’t do anythin’. I promised you,” he smiles, “remember?” You blink softly at his strong face, those eyes studying you as your hands rest in your lap; curled over each other. 

“There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.” 

Johnny huffs a chuckle, shaking his head. “Take your time, eh? I won’t be needin’ to travel back into town again until late evening.” Your hands curl slightly tighter, touched. 

The blacksmith watches you as you gather your thoughts, your face going stiff and new boots shuffling over the grass. Blue slides to your hand and his lips turn down. 

He’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d been up most of the night and working before the sun had risen—mind occupied by the woman that had been in his bed and the little information he had. Obviously, Lord Wilkin was looking for you; adamantly. 

Relentlessly. 

When he’d been in town there had been guards everywhere, checking every shop and house like beasts of metal and sharp words. You were the Lord’s bride, of course. As the tailor had asked him, a bit dejected, if he’d taken a wife as he’d bought you your chemise and kirtle, the woman had mentioned the wedding. 

“Little thing darted off during the Handfasting ceremony, I ‘erd. The Lord had only just put the knife to her palm before she yelled and fled. Oh, ya should have seen it, Mr. MacTavish. Like a bat from Hell, Lord help me. He’ll not stop till he’s found ‘er.”

Johnny’s stomach rolls, abdomen tightening as he shifts to release tension. Along the ground, his hand momentarily clenches. You hum under your breath, whispering out an easy, “Are we sure we should be outside for this?”

The man blinks in confusion. 

“Well, would…you prefer being inside?” You look nervous, fingers flinching over themselves and Johnny sits up straighter, letting his large hand carefully grasp your knee. Your innocently wide eyes lock with his own. He offers a comforting look. “It’s no difference to me—you decide. Whichever’s easier, eh?”

“It’s just,” you begin, the skin below your kirtle burning you in the best possible way. What was happening to you? “Well…My family rarely let me out.” Johnny’s body stills to a near stone carving. “Said I was to stay inside. I suppose I’m not overly used to it, you see.” 

It’s not impossible to understand the role that was placed on you. Arranged marriage, sold off to be a housewife for a large dowry paid up by the Lord. You’d been brought up to be tossed away at a moment's notice. The blacksmith’s jaw tightens, bone sharp through the flesh. 

“...Well,” his voice is a bit ragged—scratchy. You listen with nervousness in your chest, a slow infection of unease. “I’m not your family, am I? It’ll be good to get some sun, I think—let’s stay here for a little longer and then we can go back in when you’re ready. There’s no rush to things.” 

Letting you calm down, his thumb rubs a small circle before he pulls it away, perhaps realizing what he was doing before clearing his throat, cheeks alight. 

A small breeze pushes through the pines, a wind filled with the scent of fire and earth—dirt and dew. It was peaceful here, among the old spirits and the hidden trails. So different in the light than it was in the pouring rain. 

“I imagine you knew about the wedding?” You sigh, staring at your lap. “Lord Wilkin?” 

“Aye,” Johnny nods, speaking quietly. He doesn’t want to force you. “I did.”

“I was placed into the marriage two months ago by my parents, an agreement of land and money was traded for my hand.” Watching, the man’s eyes go sad, lids tilting. He stops the grunt in the back of his throat as you continue. “I had resigned myself to it, truly. Being of enough standing all I was needed for was marriage—”

“That’s utter shite.” Johnny growls, angry at the sentence. “They would just toss you away like that? To a bastard ten times your age?” 

You stare, brows tight. “I…I’m a daughter, am I not?” 

Johnny’s jaw goes slack, eyes sharp with horror as his gaze looks deeply into your vision, biceps tense with cooling sweat and dirt. Such a sight it was, two beings as different as a mountain and a valley; so near but starkly contrasted in the harsh strength of rock and the gentle sway of grassy low-land. Bears and deer, barn swallows that sit on rafters and golden eagles that soar tempests. 

The dark-haired man could never imagine raising a girl for nothing else than to be a man’s property—to sell as if a good and nothing more. Johnny turns his head away before he snaps at nothing, a low sound trapped in his chest. You never had a single choice.

Confused by his approach to this, you watch the side of his face as the man’s expression of anger slowly shifts back to a hidden seriousness. Eyes dark and his hand tightened into a fist. 

“I’m sorry, Dearie. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Johnny blinks, shaking his head. “Hope I didn’t scare ya.”

“No,” you motion a hand. “No, not at all.” 

“Good.” He sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. “Ah, please, keep going. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise.” You smile tinily. 

“At the wedding, when it was near the end, they brought out the cloth and the knife for the Handfasting ceremony,” Johnny leans forward, and you look down at him on the ground. He lent a sort of silent vigor, you think to yourself. A comfort. “He dragged it along my skin and then he gripped my hand and forced the base of my palm harder into it.” 

Your words get smaller and hushed, flexing your damaged hand. “...I think…that he wanted it to leave a scar. I bolted off before they could tie the cloth.” 

Johnny stands and brings you into a hug, a hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your skull gently to his chest. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He breathes, and you slowly wind your own hands around his waist; melting into him without even knowing it. Johnny’s scent encompasses you like a blanket, and your very bones seem to sprout flowers from the marrow as your eyes get watery, held in such a way that most people only dream about. 

When the first silent tears fall he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—only holds you more firm and sighs into your scalp. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, honest and truthful. Could you run? Go to another fiefdom? How far would you even be able to make it? No food, no horse, no supplies. 

You’d be found out in no time. 

Johnny moves back, tilting his head down to you and grasping your face with a single hand. “We’ll figure it out, Little Lady. By my word, I’ll do what I can to make sure you’ll never go back to that bastard of a Lord again.” A hard thumb pushes back your tears and blue eyes soften on you. “Can you trust me?” 

Can and not do. 

Even the simple alleviation of pressure from a word makes you care for this man even more than you should. The simmering attraction to not only his appearance but his steadfast heart; indomitable morals. 

“You, Johnny?” You sniffle, a grin twitching your lips up as the blacksmith’s face goes hot. “Yes, I can trust you.” Actions enough from last night had proven that. 

Johnny huffs and lets the blush on his face spread along his neck, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes for too long before he has to clear his throat and gaze to the side. Not knowing what overtakes you, you lightly press your lips to his cheek—feeling the heat and the slight gasp that escapes his lips. 

You giggle as he grunts a thanks, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as you both continue to hold one another. His grip travels down to your back as he raises a brow, trying to push past his beginning stutter as he speaks. “I’d tell ya that if you do that again, I might just have a fainting spell, Miss.”

“A fainting spell,” you tease, “from a kiss, Blacksmith?” 

“Aye—especially if it’s from such a Bonnie woman like you, see.” You both laugh, faces burning up, as serious topics and tears fade into the past. 

As you had said, where any other man would have been different, Johnny Mactavish had proven himself to be right and true. Even if you’d been impossibly tired last night, the small sliver of fear had still remained that something might happen to you here; in the presence of one man in the middle of the woods. No such fear remains. 

Like a great Lord of old, Johnny had offered sanctuary from a man of cruel and horrible intentions. But perhaps he’d offered far more than that, with how he’s staring at you. 

Your laughs steadily die down to a pulsing silence, hands around one another and faces only a few inches away. It’s bizarre how fast this had happened—these feelings brimming in the cup of your heart. A bowl overflowing with care and affection; of something else that cannot be named for fear it’s only a simple infatuation. A twin flame of red-hot fire that could rival Johnny’s forge. 

“I…don’t want to overstep,” the man says, and your eyes are drawn to his lips as they move—a small scar you’d yet to notice living on his chin, a stain of lighter flesh. You swallow stiffly and dart your gaze back to his as you feel his heart pounding in his ribcage. It wasn’t a mystery to wonder if your own is doing the same. “Y’should tell me to stop, Dearie.”

“To stop what,” you pull the words from the depths of your throat. “What are you planning on doing, Johnny?” He shivers as you say his name as if put under a spell. 

“Are you sure you’re not a witch, now?” You stifle a confused laugh, furrowing your brows with amusement.

“What?” 

“One half-day is all it took for you to chain me to your will,” he grasps the bottom of your chin and angles your head up; you go willingly. His eyes search yours for any hesitation or flighty emotions. All he finds is wide awe. “Most would call that witchery, Little Lady.”

“Then it seems your will is easily broken, Blacksmith.”

“Perhaps it is,” Johnny smirks, his breath puffing out along your parted lips. Your body vibrates with anticipation of what was to come, hearing his voice lower to a deep rasp. “Haven’t ya heard…? Blacksmiths have a weakness for runaway brides.” 

“Is that so? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” 

“Suppose I’ll just have to show you.” His lips are firm and his body runs hot. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you sigh into him as his hands dig into your gifted cloak, meeting him with every pass. Low purrs of satisfaction echo from his chest and make you shiver, nose pressing into his lower cheek. Playfully, his teeth nip at your flesh and you gasp; eyes pulling back to stare half-lidded as blue sparks with mischief. 

You should stop this—but you were starved for honest affection. Companionship, even. Johnny by far wasn’t the worst to throw your lott in with and he might just be the best possible to fill that role. Life in this era is fast and harsh; it’s unfair. You had to make quick decisions without thinking of the possible consequences. 

So as you blink up at the man who watches you closely, you place your fingers on the side of his face and tilt his lips back to yours with a small smile. His hand at the curve of your spine twitches, sliding along the cloak in minute increments as Johnny’s heart hammers like his tools. 

It’s as if the forge was still around the two of you—air hot and the feeling sticking to your skin like a brand of sin and forbidden magnetism. He shouldn’t have kissed you, but the hypnosis of the hammer was in his head; its rhythm and striking slam. You drew him in as the anvil does the iron. 

In this moment of contentment, there is a fast sound of something in the air, something that rattles the two of you out of your tender embrace to gaze with contorted faces through the thin line of trees. Panting and open.

Through the foliage back to the homestead is the rapid movement of hooves and the baying of hounds. 

It strikes you like a knife, eyelids moving far back as Johnny’s head snaps to the noise with something growing in the back of his expression. Calls; shouts. You know who it is, who’s found you out. You’d never heard it until it was too late.

“Johnny,” your voice says, fearful with wild eyes. 

“Stay behind me,” he says, monotone with red lips. Shadows of horses and guards are near the house. You stare up at him in shock. A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Nothin’ll happen to you.” His eyes dig past layers. 

There was no running from this. 

“Okay,” you whisper.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[thesightstoshowyou]

No Questions Asked

Ledger!Joker x F Reader

- Chapter One -

Summary: A house call puts you in the path of Gotham’s newest menace.

Warnings: Gunshot wounds, blood, descriptions of medical procedures and medical “torture,” reader is described as having longer hair because I was gripped with insanity and had to write that scene, swearing.

[A/N: This is a bit different than what I usually write! Stepping out of my comfort zone, I guess. Let me know how I did!]

The sidewalk simmers, heat rising off pavement. A weak breeze billows through the street, bringing with it the stench of refuse and exhaust. Gotham in the summer smells like literal hot garbage.

Paradise.

Your nose wrinkles and you tug your hat further down on your forehead to shield your eyes from the sun. Towering buildings offer shade, but thousands of windows reflect the glare of that accursed star at just the right angle to blind unsuspecting passerby. Even the skyscrapers here mean harm.

You weave through the crowd, calves burning with your quick, deliberate steps. The strap of your bag digs into your shoulder and sweat gathers beneath it until your shirt adheres to your skin. The relative cool of the alley you enter would be a relief if you weren’t already so sticky.

The door is unassuming; metal, distressed, a little rusted at the corners like all the others nearby save for the rectangular peep hole at eye level. You knock twice, two sharp raps in quick succession. Almost immediately, the shutter over the peep hole slides open with a clang.

You raise your chin in greeting to the pair of eyes that inspect you through the opening. Slam goes the shutter. The muted click of locks opening reaches your ears before the hinges squeal as the door is tossed open.

You don’t wait for permission from the burly man behind the door. Instead, you cross the threshold and descend the worn stairs two at a time. An annoyed sigh leaves your lips when the stuffy basement air presses into your already overheated skin. You’d think these rich assholes could at least afford some a/c.

Rossi meets you in the doorway. His uneasy expression immediately sets you on edge and you worry the urgency of the situation had not been properly conveyed over the phone. He gives you a look before you step into the room, a glance that says, ‘Don’t ask questions.’

He must think you’re an idiot. You could not have made it in this job for as long as you have by allowing your curiosity to speak for you.

It immediately becomes apparent what Rossi meant when you enter. The low ceiling is dotted here and there with aging, incandescent bulbs that bathe the room in sickly yellow. At the center of the room is a round, makeshift “conference” table littered with bloody paper towels and rags.

A few goons you don’t recognize hover uselessly around another slumped in a fold out chair, the reason you’d been called here on such short notice. He’s vaguely familiar, a distant relative of Maroni’s—Ronny Something. He’s clammy and pale, his scarlet coated fingers pressed limply to the wound in his shoulder.

However, what draws your attention and raises your hackles is the man seated in the corner atop an overturned box. His legs are spread wide and he hunches over them, elbows resting on his knees, fingers clad in purple leather and absently fiddling with a pocket knife. Dark green hair hangs like oily curtains next to a grease-painted face. Stained mostly white with blacked out eyes and a curling red grin, it’s apparently supposed to be a crude imitation of a clown. Above him, the light bulb flickers, throwing him in and out of shadow, but you can still make out the sharp eyes trained directly on you.

You don’t ask. Never do. That rule had been made abundantly clear. Instead you stride across the room and shoo the henchmen aside. Bending at the waist, you pull Ronny’s hand away from his shoulder and click your tongue as blood gushes from two distinct bullet holes.

“I was told these were grazes,” you start as you straighten to shoot a glare at Rossi. “There’s at least two slugs still in there. I’m gonna have to call the doc. He needs anesthetic and blood and other shit to keep him from going into shock. I don’t have the tools—

“Do it,” dares a sing-song voice. Startled, you turn to face the man in the corner. He’s smiling now, yellow teeth peeking between red, his upturned cheeks pockmarked and twisted. You realize the paint covers thick scars that stretch away from his lips like a macabre extension of his grin. The intensity in his gaze is difficult to hold so you don’t, instead glancing at Rossi, the unspoken question of, ‘Who the fuck does this weirdo think he is?’ written all over your face.

“No, no, no, no don’t look at him. Look at me.” Even with the weird, warbled inflection of his voice, there’s authority in his tone and an unspoken threat should you disobey. Brows knitting into a frown, you do as you’re told, and your head twists back to meet the eyes of the clown in the corner. The air in the room is thick and heavy and it’s no longer because of the heat. You can barely even hear the other men breathe.

“I’m a nurse. I don’t have the expertise necessary to perform surgery.” Not entirely accurate these days, but he doesn’t need to know that. “He could die, and then my head would wind up on a plate.”

“I like your head…where it’s at.” His own head shakes a little with his words and a pink tongue darts out to swipe across painted lips. Finally, he stands. Pinching the knife between thumb and forefinger, he slips the blade into an inside pocket. Gripping the lapels of his purple jacket, he gives them an exaggerated shake. His movements are erratic and cartoonish and you can’t stop your nervous little backwards half-step.

‘Who the hell are you?’ The question sits poised on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t let it free. Instead, you grit your teeth as the…man saunters over to Ronny and claps a hand on his uninjured shoulder. The movement jars Ronny enough to pull a pained cry from his mouth.

“Little, uh-“ the clown snaps his fingers like he’s trying to remember something, then makes a grabbing motion like he’s pulling the information out of the air, “Ronny here has faith in your skills. Don’t you, Ronny?”

Weak, but hasty, Ronny nods as though he’s trying to placate the other man. In response, the clown spreads his arms, palm up, eyebrows raised as if to say, ‘See? Told ya’ so.’ Voice a deep growl, he sweeps one arm in front of him and says, “The floor is yours.”

None of the men speak up. There’s no protest, not even a scoff. The only sounds are the flickering bulb and Ronny’s haggard gasps.

You don’t glance over your shoulder at Rossi. It is clear to you now that there has been some sort of shift in power and this clown…this man is in now in charge. And questioning orders is definitely not in your job description.

“Well, that’s fuckin’ great,” you sigh. The man chuckles, high and airy. “Get him on the table,” you snap at the two goons hovering nearby. After a second of hesitation, they quickly comply and hoist a blubbering Ronny onto the dirty tabletop until he’s flat on his back, his legs dangling.

Heart rate pulsing in your ears, you whip off your ball cap and toss it away. Hurriedly, you gather your locks into a messy bun before tossing your bag onto the table next to poor Ronny’s shivering form. The zipper is so loud in the tense silence, the rustle of bandages and the clink of instruments a cacophony. Unfortunately, there’s no sink to be found, so you settle for hand sanitizer.

“You’re gonna be okay, Ronny,” you tell the man staring up at you as you snap on a pair of gloves. Fear and pain twist his expression and you can tell he wants to protest, but won’t dare. It makes you wonder what the man in the makeup is capable of to inspire such fear in hardened criminals.

Scissors make short work of the bloodied shirt. With gauze and sterile water, you clean away dried gore so you can properly inspect the wounds. You note one graze along the bicep, a bullet buried in the deltoid, and another lodged just under the clavicle.

“If there’s any nerve or artery or organ or bone damage, I won’t be able to repair it. He needs actual surgery.” You shoot a withering look at the clown who makes a show of sucking in air through his teeth as though he’s concerned. You don’t miss the grin tugging at his scarred lips. “I can get the bullets out and do my best to stop the bleeding. You two,” you nod at the unnamed henchmen, “Will have to hold him.”

Ronny whimpers, the sweat pouring off his brow mirroring your own. You want to complain about just how not sterile this space is, how Ronny is probably going to die of an infection even if you get him stabilized, but you bite your tongue and focus on the task at hand.

You watch the process as though you are suspended just outside your body: Insert IV, start fluid, give what little pain meds you have on hand, sterilize the forceps, clean the injuries, bodily hold down a thrashing, screaming Ronny while you dig out the slugs, slap him awake and tell him to man up, hold pressure, stop the bleeding, suture the wounds closed.

“Keep this,” you shove the bag of normal saline into the hands of Goon Number One, “Above his head.” You turn to a stone-faced Rossi and solemnly tell him, “Doc needs to see him.” You fill a syringe with antibiotics, amazed by how steady your hands are. Ronny barely flinches when you jam the needle in the meat of his hip.

Snapping off your gloves, you release an exhale that trembles on its way out. On autopilot, you turn back to your bag and reach for the blood pressure cuff when, without warning, leather-clad fingers wrap around your wrist. Jolting, you stumble back into the table to put an arm’s length between you and the clown—where the fuck had he come from—but he closes the distance with one, bouncy step.

Just like that, you’re snapped back to reality. Now firmly seated in your body, you are startlingly aware of how hot everything is: The air, your sweaty palms, his chest against yours, his breath on your lips, your blazing cheeks, the stares of the other men burning into the sides of your head.

“Don’t—

“Shhh, shh, shh, c’mere,” the clown murmurs as he grips you by the back of the neck. You stiffen and push back against his hand in a subconscious effort to put distance between you, but fall still when his opposite hand comes to rest on your neck. His expression is unreadable, the look in his eyes a mixture of amusement and something a bit more menacing. You don’t want to search too hard, but fear of what will happen should you look away keeps your gaze on his.

White paint cracks along the creases in his forehead when his brows raise. “You’ve just got a little….” He presses a thumb to the corner of your mouth and drags it upward. You feel the slickness smearing across your dewy skin, too thick to be spit or sweat. Blood, you wager. Judging by the satisfied smile that spreads across his face and the contented hum he emits, you guess there’s a red half-grin now curling away from your mouth.

An imitation of his own.

You barely manage to contain the flinch when the clown raises his hand to your crown. Fingers dip into your hair and feel around for the hair tie keeping it piled atop your head. Three quick tugs sees your locks cascading around your shoulders. Both of his hands then come up to ruffle and shake until it’s all a wild, frizzy mess.

You don’t know whether to be afraid or baffled, and you realize this is entirely the point. Keep others guessing and unable to predict your next move. There’s fear in uncertainty.

The intensity of the moment, the frantic fluttering of your heart, the stifling heat of the room has you seconds away from begging for mercy, something you’ve never done before. Even the slouch of his shoulders—the way he almost curls over you—seems designed to make you panic. You swallow thickly and open your mouth to break the awkward, terrible silence when he interrupts:

“Why don’t you…run along, hm?” He offers you your ball cap and, tentatively, you take it. The clown shuffles back the tiniest inch and you suck in a gasping breath, your heart like some kind of trapped bird ricocheting against your ribs as you hastily whirl around to pack up your instruments. Fuck Ronny’s blood pressure. Doc can handle it. You must get out of here.

You don’t look over your shoulder as you quickly stride from the room, but lilting words reach you in the hallway and stop you dead in your tracks. A chill races up your spine.

“See you soon!”

The clown’s parting sentiment.

You’re up the stairs and out the door before Rossi can catch up. “Who the fuck was that?” you snarl, whipping around so fast your bag smacks against your sweaty back.

“Are you livin’ under a rock?” he shoots back, but any bite there might have been in his words has been shaken from him. He’s pale, you notice, obviously disturbed by what you had to do to Ronny.

“Yes!” you exclaim, throwing your arms up in the air. “Yes I am! I keep my head so far down, I’m underground.”

Rossi shakes his head and huffs a humorless laugh. “Turn on the news, then. That oughta answer your questions.”

**

Begrudgingly, you do as you’re told.

It doesn’t take long to put a moniker to the painted face splashed all over your television screen:

The Joker.

Maybe it’s time to pay more attention to current events.

[crxshed-skxlls]

Hiiii I'm being anon since I've never done a request before and I'm mildly embarrassed about it KJHFUIOG

do you think you could do something with eyeless jack? either just nsfw hcs or even a fic! i guess to add any suggestions for a fic maybe ej breaking into the reader's home? Could also have dub-con and breeding elements to it if you'd like! Though you can do whatever! ^^ (also gn reader if that's ok!)

OVERALL THOUGH I've been enjoying reading your content n stuff so far and ty for reading this even if you don't do the idea! :D

Word count:

Ooo very intriguing request. Don't worry Anon, your sins are my command 🙏 (my apologies if this isn't the best; it's my first time writing with a gn!reader)

— ❝ Home Invasion

Eyeless Jack x Gn!reader

Word count: 2k+

Plot: You were having an ordinary night, slowly slipping into your bed to a sweet slumber. Little did you know, an unwelcoming visitor gives you a sinful surprise.

NSFW tags: Dubcon, breeding, mating press, knife play, primal elements, bloodplay, biting, implied voyuerism, praise, Masochism elements

Credits for MDNI divider

It was a dark, brisk night. The cold air of the night tickles for body as you lay in your bed. You lay peacefully bliss to your surroundings as you slip into a slumber, your breathing slow as you sigh. You had a long day, and you were ready to get some shut-eye. However, you had been tossing and turning from the uncomfortable chill of the room. You feel a subtle presence in your room, like prying eyes watched you, but you thought it was your anxieties about the dark night. It took a little while, but you finally slip out of consciousness, eyes fluttering shut as you slip away. 

Though, your gut told you right. A dark figure lurked out your window, careful not to draw attention to him. His features muted except for his cobalt blue mask with signature black eye holes. He watches you toss and turn, only for you to lose consciousness. He licked his lips as he prowls, silently opening your window you so obliviously forgot to lock. He lifts the frame with a click sound, quietly stepping into your room. You flinch in your sleep as you hear the subtle shift of your window closing, turning to where your back pressed into your mattress. 

Jack looks around, silently slipping to your bed. He looks down at you, his soulless sockets peering onto your sleeping form. He grabs the corner of your plush blanket, slipping the cloth off of your form. You mumble something in your slumber, shifting in your sleep. Jack has watched you many times before, knowing how much of a heavy sleeper you are. The noirette continued his prowl, getting on top of you gently. He straddles your hips, looking down at your figure with a small grunt. He licks the dried blood from his stained teeth as he slips your shirt up slightly, revealing your abdomen with ease.

You shutter under the taller being, humming as his hand traces your stomach. Jack soon takes out his knife, examining the thin blade made for incisions. Jack groans quietly as his stomach fills with a familiar warmth, the uncomfortable fabric sticking to his growing member. The uttered thought of watching you so vulnerable made his head reel with sinful thoughts. It wasn't long before your eyes start to flutter, which made Jack tense. Your eyes open quickly as you see the unwanted stranger, though there was a sharp feeling to your neck before you dare utter a word. Jack keeps his knife to your throat, leaning in to your face slightly. Your adrenaline made you wide awake as he traces the blade faintly on your skin, making tears prick your terrified eyes. 

Jack smirks at your body's reactions, his head tilting to the side. You watch as his soulless eyes prey upon your form. You shiver, closing your eyes. He let's out a small a chuckle, tracing the blade down to your chest. You don't dare utter a word, the silence filling up the air. It wasn't long until his grim voice spoke, his voice in a rough tone. 

" You're pretty for prey, don't you know? "

He breathes, letting the blade snag at your shirt. He watches as some of the cloth rips under the blade, making you shiver under his grasp. You feel your body become a little flush under the compliment, his rough voice melting at your scared thoughts. You want to shake him off, tell him to stop, but this was something you had been anticipating for a while. It was a weird fantasy of yours that not a lot of people understood, but you thought it was arousing with the unexpectedness that lingered around the thought of a break in. Jack interrupts your thoughts as you hear a tear sound, noticing the blade tear halfway down your shirt. It revealed your collarbones and part of your chest, making the man bite his lip under his mask.

" You're body structure is in great proportions, you know? Great for me to take in.. "

" Why are you doing this? "

You say in a hushed whisper, your soft voice ringing in his ears. It wasn't long until you realized the surprise in Jack's pants however, feeling it throb against his clothing. He pauses his movements, looking at your face. It wasn't long before he lifts a part of his mask with a dark chuckle. Your eyes widen at the inhuman features, his sharp teeth visible in his grin. His grayish features shimmered in the moonlight, dried blood visible on his face. Your hands ball into fists as he leans into your neck.

" Simple. You caught my eye from a greater distance, love. Ever since, it's been hard not to think about how lovely you would look tainted in your own blood. "

His soft tone as he explains to you was both frightening and arousing. The way his words coaxed you in an uncomfortable arousal left you to whimper under him. You never knew such an intruder that had a soft side to his words. You gasp as you feel his tongue lap at your neck, pressing in all the right places.

" Be good for me.. And you might walk off with your organs in tact. Understood? "

" M- mhm.. "

You nod and stiffen under his words, letting out a hushed moan as his tongue traces your collarbones. Jack grunts as he gets between your legs, hungrily nipping at your neck with his teeth. You moan out as you feel his erection press against your sensitive crotch, making him smile on your neck. You yelp suddenly as you feel a sharp pain signal down your spine. Your hands instinctively tug at Jack's back, feeling his sharp teeth bite harshly into your soft skin. He moans at your cries, listening curiously as they turn into moans. As his teeth release from your neck, he laps out the thick blood that spilled out.

It wasn't deep enough to hit an artery or anything, but it definitely was deep. You moan at the twinges of pain, gripping the figure's Hoodie. Jack moans as well, pulling up slightly. Your tear glazed eyes were able to make out the messy blood on Jack's lips, making your face flush a little red. Jack grins at your figure, licking his lips. You shiver tenderly as you watch him lick the blood off his lips.

" I didn't realize you were a such a masochist now.. After all, there's only so much I can see from your windows. "

You gulp as tears spill from your face, panting from the twinges of want and need. You knew this was crazy, the back of your mind berated you for wanting such a monster. However your body clouded any sane thought your brain could come up with. The way he teased and admitted to watching you made you squirm slightly, feeling a little more nervous if anything. You soon get snapped into reality as Jack takes off your pants, along with your undergarments. You squirm more, your hands shifting to Jack's chest as you slightly push. Jack let's out a guttural growl, his eyes piercing into your gaze. You gulp as you watch his blade come up to your neck again, making you whimper out as your hands fall down onto your mattress.

" What happened to being good, huh? "

Jack comments, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. You shiver with uncertainty, but as soon as Jack makes a small incision on your chest makes you moan out in surprise. You hiss from the twinge of pain, but Jack just chuckles at you. He licks at the small cut, making you moan out again in a more pleasurable tone. You soon hear an unzipping sound, making you tremble slightly under Jack. You knew what was coming, and there was no point for your aching body to fight back. You feel as Jack sighs in a somewhat relief, letting his member spring from his denim jeans. You audibly gasp as his cock hits your abdomen teasingly, looking at the sheer size made you flush a deep red. 

" Awwh, like what you see darling? "

Jack snickers at your actions as you watch his cock twitch. He soon positions himself to your hole, pressing the tip to your ass. You look up at Jack with a doe eyed expression, earning a groan from the man. You soon yelp out as you feel Jack slam into you with one strong push, causing twinges of pain and pleasure to fill your body. Jack growls as you clench to his length, using one of his hands to stabilize himself. You feel him slowly pull about halfway out of you, just for him to thrust back into you. You both moan out as he sets a rough pace.

" F- fuck- "

" Yeeah, tha- hah- that's right. Take it. "

You hear Jack mutter out loud as you feel his  dick press into all your sweet areas, causing you to shamelessly moan. He growls almost animalistically as he slams into you, moving to your neck to bite into the same mark he left on your skin. You yell out with breathy moans and pleas for more, but Jack continues to lick and suck at the blood that taints your tender skin. You tremble under him as you feel your body reaching a climax, whimpering out as he thrusts into you. You hitch your breath as Jack hooks your shaky legs to his shoulders, borrowing his dick deep inside of you. You let out moans and mewls as he aims for all your sweet spots, your back arching as you press against him. It wasn't long before you end up coming onto him, choking out more moans. Jack groans as your body tenses around him, earning you a stifled laugh from him.

" Awwh f- uck– you really think were- ngh- done yet? "

Jack grins into your skin as he slams into you, hearing your sultry moans and slapping sounds from his movements. You shake under him as he keeps going, holding you in this mating press as he growls and bites at your skin. You feel as if your ascending as your stomach bubbles and prepares for another climax. You give him choked out pleas, begs but none were answered. You hear Jack muttering in your ears about all the things he could do to you, possessive statements ringing through your body.

" Sh- shit– get ready doll.. I'll make sure you'll– haah– be mine. "

He hisses in your ears as he chases his climax. You let your arms fly up to grasp at his Hoodie again, whimpering as you both chase your orgasms. Jack groans as he slams his dick all the way in your poor hole, his hips sputtering as he splashes white ropes inside of you. You tremble from your final orgasm, spasming as his hips sputter for a final time. The room once filled with slapping and moaning sounds is now filled with pants and breathy moans. Your legs tremble against Jack before he peacefully rests your legs back down to your bed. Jack bites his lip as he pulls out of you, watching as some of his semen dribble out of your cute hole. 

You pant as you feel a sudden tiredness flood over you from all the midnight activity. Jack pulls you in for a bittersweet kiss, making you taste a mixture of himself and your blood. You whimper in his mouth as you feel his sharp teeth as he explores your mouth. He soon breaks the wet kiss with a smirk, a beaded mixture of your salivas connected together. The string breaks as he pulls himself up, getting out from between your legs as you weakly watch. He gets off your bed, watching your limp body as its covered in bodily fluids. Soon, in a timid manner almost, Jack pulls up the covers for you. 

He tucks you in, giving you a warm sensation as your eyes droop in and out of your tired focus. He kisses your forehead, slipping his mask into place as he stands beside your bed. You look at the figure shining in the moonlight, his blue features vibrant. He has a soft gaze on you as you tiredly close your eyes, slipping into your polite slumber again.

" You did so well, angel… Sweet dreams. "

The last mumbles of praise leaves his soft lips as you hear him faintly walk to your window. As he opens the window, you quickly fade into the nonchalant darkness of your subconscious. Your mind echoed his soft words with endearment rather than unsettlment, peacefully passing your subconscious in your sweet dreams. You look at this night in endearment, hoping to see that familiar face again one day..

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Anhedonia 2/2

Word count: 5,5 k (part 1) and 4,4 k (part 2)

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader Tags: SMUT 🔞🔞🔞 Literally just unadulterated, deranged filth, plot is there for decoration. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Mutual pining, sexual tension (duh), blood & injury, p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), mutual masturbation, cum all over the place, light humiliation, dirty talk, some praise, swearing, mask stays on, fluffy/reconciliatory ending. Summary: Reader is a Task Force 141 operator and a terrible brat (and suffers the consequences of it later). Enemies to lovers/toxic relationship that takes a healthy turn in the end. Read PART 1 here

"Wha' a good girl you are now…"

His first words hit you like a moan-inducing massage, but you stay silent and steady in your resolve.

"Good soldier, too. We just need to get you to follow orders so that you don't get hurt," he speaks gently.

There it is, finally – a good girl and a good soldier. You have to mentally bind your hands behind your back and place an imaginary gag in your mouth not to chirp and bounce up from joy. It's pathetic, but it's also harrowing: Ghost never meant to fuck with your head; he only wanted to keep you safe. But then he causes another riot in your brain with the next thing he says.

"Such a beautiful sight… You'd make a fine pet."

- - - - - - - - -

You go to offer your apology the next day after sleeping on it.

You feel like you're the most horrible person in the world. And yet, when you knock on his door and call yourself in when only a silence answers, the scalding gaze that locks into you like the sights of a gun remind you why you said what you said.

It's like the man has struck a knife in you, and twists it just to see you squirm. And you do: it's a telltale sign that you've been claimed when you kneel in the middle of his office while he sits behind the same desk he rutted you on less than 20 hours ago.

He says nothing. You wait, equally as quiet, like you're waiting for a pardon from Caesar.

The atmosphere is mellow: his shutters are closed but one window is creaked open, allowing birdsong and summer wind on trees to pass through to his otherwise stale office. It stirs the softest, small smile on your lips as you look at him, adamant and all locked up.

Your knees hurt, but he eventually breaks first: something you hadn't even calculated might happen. The brimstone of his eyes steal a breather to the side, then come back to you with a tinge of confusion in them.

Then he lifts his chin, lifts a hand, a command for you to approach.

Your smile only softens as you go around his desk, and he pushes the chair away with one foot, turns to meet you as you fall on your knees again, then on all fours before starting a slow crawl to him.

His eyes go wide, his head draws back as if you approaching him like a housecat is the most threatening situation he has ever been in.

You have planned this through, and he has the instincts, the sixth sense of a seasoned hunter as he opens his legs wide to make space for you.

He certainly doesn't stop you as you free his erection from the sturdy cargo pants and offer your apology by taking him in your mouth.

He knows what's coming but still gasps and grabs the arms of his chair with white knuckles. You're on your knees, seemingly domesticated, but he's the one begging for mercy before you have even begun. He's heavy in your mouth, but you welcome the weight with greed and a hot tongue.

His thighs travel wide and far, just like yours did last night. The first moan is divine. He eases into the chair while the muscles on his stomach and thighs twitch and shudder.

A pair of boots echo in the hallway behind the door, the sound soon disappearing into the distance. Anyone could walk in at any given moment, and the notion makes your head feel dizzy.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't disclose in any way that he is considering forgiveness.

But eventually, he starts to melt upon your tongue like a snow-covered mountain ridge basking in the sun. Something in the way with which you work him slowly and with gusto makes him send a hand on your head. It strokes your hair softly.

"Wha' a good girl you are now…"

His first words hit you like a moan-inducing massage, but you stay silent and steady in your resolve.

"Good soldier, too. We just need to get you to follow orders so that you don't get hurt," he speaks gently.

There it is, finally – a good girl and a good soldier. You have to mentally bind your hands behind your back and place an imaginary gag in your mouth not to chirp and bounce up from joy. It's pathetic, but it's also harrowing: Ghost never meant to fuck with your head; he only wanted to keep you safe. But then he causes another riot in your brain with the next thing he says.

"Such a beautiful sight… You'd make a fine pet."

You give him some teeth for that. Just the lightest scrape as you arrive near the base of his cock. He hisses, then laughs.

"Careful, love."

It's the first time ever you've heard him properly laugh. The sound implements itself into your core, your spine, your DNA. It's genuine and hearty, and the summer brushes past the open window to your face in a reviving breeze. Combined with the dark musk of his laughter, it makes your heart flip, and a small, tickling giggle bubbles inside you too. It arrives muted against his cock, but it's a magnificent moment – you two laughing together, even if for a second, even if yours is just a huff of an exhale against his pelvis.

"You don't like the idea?" He asks you a question as if you didn't have your mouth full of him.

His offer is alluring – of course you'd like him to take you as his pet. You could get good food and caresses, get to curl next to him when he goes to sleep. He could show you off like a domesticated animal if he wanted to. He could parade you down the street on a leash, and you would only purr as you go.

But while the proposition is enticing, you leave him with no answer, knowing it will only intrigue him if you don't say yes.

"I would be good to you," he starts to slip, and you up the pace a little. Open your jaw as far as it can go to accommodate him as much as you can, the soft hood of his cock meeting the back of your throat.

"So good– nh..." You can almost hear how his head rolls back, and you catch yourself worrying if he might hurt his neck because the chair has no headrest.

You do it again, and again, almost choking while trying to show him how good you are, how well you can take him and what your tongue can do too. You nearly stumble while you're at it, so lost in him, and you have to reach for support to prevent yourself from falling.

Your hand finds his leg, clutches the khaki that hugs a broad thigh. You flinch when a hard, heavy palm descends on top of yours. It brushes a thumb over the back of your hand as his sighs travel through the stagnant air, rampant and unchallenged through the fabric of his mask.

"Be my pet, sweetheart," he prays, growing weaker by the second. It's like a charm that transforms you into a priestess, a Babalon whore, a scarlet woman who adores men before sending them off to war.

His hips buck, he starts to clutch your hand like you're a rope that's going to save him from drowning. The other hand is more gentle in grip, but mercenary in demand as he grabs a fistful of hair to guide you along his length. Your gag reflex almost shoots him out of your mouth, but he is relentless.

He knows you can take it.

"That's it–that's it, luv," he rasps, and every other noise gets shut out of your brain as you go deaf to the sonic world. You can feel his thighs bunch and tremble around your head, the earthquake under your fingers pressed against hard, lifeless textile when they should be scraping his skin instead. He opens like a woman, massive legs spread hungry and wide as he shoots a load in your mouth. Ample, abundant, even if he just filled you to the brim not too long ago.

You drink him dutifully, greedy for the praise of a job well done, but such a thing never comes. He just breathes heavy over you, sounding happy, the happiest man on earth. You lick him clean, although there's really nothing to clean except your own saliva. The cock glistens, jolts happily one last time after you're done.

"I can make you scream on that desk," he offers while his hands release their death grip on you. Your hair gets tucked behind your ear, he even squeezes your hand briefly like you're his most trusted companion. His cock is flaccid, so you assume he's offering his fingers, perhaps even his mouth to you.

You'd like nothing more than to know if he has a stubble under that balaclava. To see if he would kneel on the floor too to shove his face between your legs while you're splayed over that desk. If he would forget about the door too, making it possible for anyone to catch him with his nose up your cunt. For Soap or Gaz or even Price to see how the broody commanding officer is just a thirsty hound dog on a bowl.

But then again, you just worked yourself up to a shattering orgasm. Two times, actually – deliberately, before you came here. The taste of his cum on your tongue will have to suffice; hell, it's almost better than him finally fucking or licking you into a deranged bliss.

You sense another opening, can't just help yourself…

"Thank you, sir. But that won't be necessary."

- - - - - - - - -

You begin to fear that you're the narcissist here. The way you make him twist and turn like a corkscrew, the way it makes you feel to see how he spirals deeper into madness. Even your eyes are too much for Ghost, who avoids your stare on missions but hunts you down at the base.

"What does it take?"

He ruts you whenever and wherever he can, in the toilets if need be, too busy to haul you into his room after a mission. You just so happened to pass him by, and it was the nearest space with a lock on the door.

"What the fuck does it take?"

The static hum of the bright, unyielding light and the smell of chlorite oozing out of tile seams is everything but a romantic setting as he drives into you from behind and watches you through the mirror on top of a small sink – watches how you give him nothing.

You're trying to take support from the white porcelain even though he's holding you firm against his chest with that inked arm wrapped around your middle. You want to spread your legs for him but can't, since he barely had time to rip your pants down before getting himself out as well to fuck you, so you settle for admiring how vulnerable he looks while he tries his all to please you.

"Do I have to take the mask off? That it?" He's far from a calm and collected lieutenant as he sweats black paint and despair. "Ya want my mouth? Just say it. Promise I'll make you cry."

You laugh at him through the mirror. It's an involuntary, spontaneous action, and you can't really help it. The man is absolutely adorable… And here you have been, fearing him for weeks without realizing he's just another lonely soul.

He doesn't know your strategy. He doesn't know that it's just you and your hand that are his worst enemy.

"What're ya laughin' at?"

You bite your lip, allow him to see mischief and a quivering smile, wet, adoring eyes paired with simple silence. He could force and command and bully you, but he doesn't do it.

Who's the pet now?

"Obviously, you like my cock," he grunts. "Always wet 'n' ready to go, like a fuckin'–"

It ends in a huff before a potential slur comes out.

Truly a gentleman…

"You let everyone 'ere have a go at you?"

He ticks like a time bomb inside you.

"I'm the last to get to fuck you? Huh? I get the fuckin' scraps, is that it?"

He doesn't need slurs to tear you down, but on the other hand, Ghost only reveals more of himself with the insults and assumptions he hurls at you.

He's desperate, crying for it, longing to be the one who makes you cry and scream and purr. Be your one and only.

"No," you hum. "I'm all yours, Lt."

He blinks a few times, exhausted lids fall to cover most of his eyes, and the stare tells you he has entered a dreamworld.

"I'm–," he groans with a broken voice. "I'm… Fuck–"

You shiver with ecstasy – his orgasm is a better reward than anything else he could ever give you. He collapses again, even more humiliated than the day before, or the day before that. He doesn't seem to care anymore. His hips press you against the cold sink, and you fear the porcelain is going to break under your combined weight. He doesn't slip out. Instead, Ghost tucks his mask on top of his nose to catch breath.

He has a shadow of a stubble, a stern jaw, and the notion makes your walls pulse. Thin lips part to gasp for air, his blazing chest heaves behind your back, threatens to topple you all over the sink and against the mirror already misty from your mingled heat.

And the mask was lifted for a whole other reason than to catch some precious air.

He presses his lips against your bare neck, breathes you in with mouth slightly open. Pants, like a tormented beast.

"You almost got killed," he whispers on your skin. Your heart leaps, and he still doesn't slip out…

"Took that blast and those bullets f' me."

Your heart flutters; it competes in rapidness with the blinks of your lashes. He's gentleman enough not to raise his head as you swallow some panic.

"Why did you do that?"

You can't tell him it wasn't even that heroic. That the ultimate reason was just to get his attention. To get him to proudly acknowledge what a good, talented little soldier you are. His girl.

The thick, softening heat inside you is too much. It shouldn't be this close, he shouldn't be this close. Tears are not allowed; they would be the end of you. The end of the fucking world. Your doom.

Claustrophobia makes it a shaky business to tiptoe him out of you, to slither and struggle out of his embrace and yank your pants up, fight your way through the cramped space and out of the door.

- - - - - - - - -

He suspects something.

And of course he does: the man is not a clandestine operations expert for nothing.

You usually do this in the morning, knowing you won't get another chance before he steals a moment with you. But this morning, you slept in and know that you're in the biggest danger ever. If he catches you before you're satisfied and immune, you're dead.

Everything's been fucked up ever since you met him. He's like a sickness, and you've fallen ill. You're practically bedridden because of him.

You have to use a toy because your hand is not enough anymore, and you fear that one of these days you will climax while he's inside you.

The funny thing is, you forgot to lock the door.

Maybe it's a subconscious wish – to end this sickness and receive some healing.

And the perfect healer walks in like he owns the place. Owns you.

Your heart shoots up your throat at the sound of a door opening to your most sacred space while you're most relaxed, spread naked on the bed, nipples perked up and pointing to the sky.

You forgot to lock the door…

The chant arises right before he emerges like a dark mountain after opening that weak, thin piece of plywood that separates you from civility and prudence.

You forgot to lock the door you forgot to lock the door–

He freezes the exact moment his eyes hit on you. He's a northern slope that never catches sunlight while you're at your weakest, most vulnerable, leaking around a toy made out of plastic, trembling naked and full of goosebumps from the sudden cold he emits.

"You fuckin' little…"

His chest rises and falls, then he slams the door shut, locks it without ever taking his eyes off you.

He understands the mystery to the full. It unravels before him clear-cut like the steps of a mission he knows by heart before even entering the field. You can't move, can't speak, but you clench around the lifeless substitute of him, far smaller and a thousand times more tame than what he has on offer for you. The throb is simply a reaction to how he looks at you while he realizes the entirety of the childish trick you've managed to pull, a game – some stupid little antics of a stubborn, lovesick girl and nothing more.

"Alright then. Let's hear it."

"Mhm-"

He takes a step, chest puffed up and shoulders wide, eyes burning under the chalked white skull.

"Go on then. Get on wit' it."

You obey like never before. He watches how you push the lavender-colored toy fully inside, up to the hilt, and let out a shy, sad whimper. The first of many cries to come.

Ten soldiers in one man approach your bed, stand tall all around you as you gaze up at him like he's a god. He's panting by the time he gets himself out of his jeans. His eyes scourge you as he takes his cock in hand and starts to pump in sync with you.

He makes more noise than you do at first. You make him falter by changing the speed from slow and languid to shallow and quick. He tries to keep up with you like it's a race, eyes darting from your quivering mouth and wet stare to your soaked pussy.

You sigh and moan, fuck yourself sloppy, dirty, and he looks like he's about to lose his mind and burst.

"Good girl," he says with a charred voice, a soft rasp that hits you with a delicious heat. "Such a good fuckin' girl."

You swallow tears and love, give him moans and sighs, even a high-pitched mewl or two.

Somewhere along the way, you notice you're following his cue and rhythm instead of your own, and the way the angry bulge of his tip disappears into and reappears from his fist dries your mouth right up, makes your eyelids heavy. You're breathless and incoherent, far too close to the mountaintop — already were before the actual mountain even walked through that door.

You have to slow down to brace yourself for the pleasure that swells.

"Oh– oh my god…"

Your sigh is a final admission: how he is a literal god to you. His hand claps against his balls as he pleasures himself, angry as fuck and as relieved as anyone could be when they find out that their heartthrob is just a delightful little minx instead of a cruel, heartless woman.

Everything shakes and quakes and shifts, your insides shudder, your walls grip lavender when they want to grip a man. The skull tilts, the man who compels you is like an avatar of death, but his eyes are hazel longing.

The scream is celestial, wreathed in needy pain, and his shoulders sigh and shake as he watches you come for him.

"Yeah… That's it, fuck that's sweet." He doesn't slow down, quite the opposite: he beats his flesh like a maniac as you slowly but surely come down, squirm on the bed, still clutching the toy as your pussy throbs around it. If it was his cock, you fear the grip would never release him.

"Here comes," he gives an announcement, weak and breathless, rough and mean. Ropes of cum hit your breasts, neck and face, and his eyes are those of a fallen angel. Your chest rises and falls in shock and adoration as he works himself to the last of it, drips of heat dropping on the sheets, the last spurts not powerful enough to reach you from where he is standing.

When he's done, he raises his hand, like the strings of hot lust are some sort of an art piece you're supposed to gawk at.

"There ya go luv," he wipes his hand clean with you, on you. The sticky semen coats you from face to navel, and you half expect him to smear it all over you.

But he doesn't.

He forces the heavy, teary cock back inside the confine of his pants like he's mad at himself and not you.

Then he drops down like a shadow, making you quail again – one hand sinks with a fist on the pillow next to your head, the other sweeps all gentle across your belly and down over your mound. He takes hold of your hand, uses it to ease the toy slowly out while leaning over you, keeping you as a prisoner with his hawklike stare. He pulls more than just the small, harmless toy out of you: a moan or two, a final confession, but he's not pleased. You two are far from even, and he knows it, and he's fucking done. You can see it in his eyes that he's ready to quit.

He leaves you empty and barren, with just a toy to keep you company, heads for the door like a storm cloud.

"Simon…"

He walks away, much slower, but still. Leaves a memory of your shared hate and love on the doorknob as he turns it, as you start to panic.

"Don't leave," you wheeze.

Don't leave me.

Tears prick and burn your eyes as the room turns into a dismal, empty space at the very thought of living without him from this day forward.

"Please."

He opens the door a crack. Probably to let the ghosts out, because after opening it and hearing your heart-wrenching, helpless sob, he closes it.

By the time he turns and walks back to the bed, you're crying like a baby. Finally crying for him, utterly exposed. It's not the way either of you had meant for things to go, it's not the sobbing and wailing he wants.

Still, you expect him to feast on your tears as well, watch with glee how you curl into a fetal position while covered in his cum. You don't want to see it, so you close your eyes before he rapes you with his stare.

"Sweetheart."

But his voice shatters a heart. So tender that it washes over you in waves as you repeat it inside your head like a lullaby.

"Sweetest…" he trails off into somewhere, some obsidian space that stretches out before you, between you, until you cross that space with no effort at all. Meet him in the middle.

"Yes, love..?" Your own shaky voice is a mirror of his compassion as you pledge yourself to him. A warm hand brushes your cheek not seconds after, dries a tear away, adds to the heat that pangs on your face.

You open your eyes to dare a peek up. He has the same wet look in his eyes as he did when he found you in the rubble, bleeding for him.

"You did well today," he says, voice laced with love. You don't know if he means you did well at work or on this bed just now. What makes the praise scary is that it's authentic, the way he adores you with both word and touch. It breaks you into smaller pieces still, and your voice comes out as a needy whimper.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

You hope he would take you in his arms, just the way he did weeks ago. You still remember how it felt to succumb to his warmth and the soft tang of gun oil and smoke that always surrounds him. Now you're only shrouded by the scent of tears and salt.

"Must be due to a good leader," you whisper.

He cocks his head, the hand halts, hovers over you, a last suspicion.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Your hands are crossed over your chest, palms on opposite shoulders, shielding you from him. But you open them as he lays down and settles beside you, takes you in his arms, and presses your head to rest on his heart, underneath his chin. The massive palm covers half of your head, but the predatorial weight is gone. He only feels like home.

"Look at you, ya silly little thing… Always gettin' yourself into trouble." He brushes your beef off with a few words and an imply that you're just a blameless, stubborn little thing who he can't be mad at even if he wanted to. And it feels like the sickness finally starts to pass, that it was just an odd inflammation, a passing fever that made you so delirious. You anchor in, slither an arm under his to take support of the bedrock of his back.

He caresses you, makes you sob in his shirt from the sudden overdose of gentleness. His cum dries somewhere between your skin and his clothes as he swallows, then asks you about the mission that went wrong.

"Why did you do it?"

He's not an idiot. Surely he knows why by now. He only wants to hear it because he's stubborn like you, but also in desperate need of love and affection.

"I think you know why." You're exhausted, only able to breathe through your mouth, but the bitterness from your tone is gone. Lost, somewhere in his shirt that smells of ferrous solitude. You wonder what your combined scent, your togetherness, will smell like. It must be something sweet. Promising, like a refreshing summer rain.

"Yeah."

He caresses you slowly now, until his hand comes to rest on top of your head, making sure you won't escape his sanctuary.

"Never do it again," he commands, so soft, voice only a smoked whisper. "Love. I need you to promise me."

"Mh."

"Promise me."

You're feeling sleepy and spent, and he's to blame for it – he simply feels too good. You decide that your first kiss can wait just a little while longer. It's only wonderful; to have something lovely and pure to wait for.

"I promise…"

You drift off to sleep, cradled by the safe slopes of his mountain.