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almostempty · 2 months ago

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he knows (lucien x f!reader)

(lucien x f!reader) | wc: 3.2k | other fics | pic from here

UH HEY! I’m just gonna drop this here and scurry away to finish the other lucien one shot that i also started today, ….and then i’ll return to finishing divorced dad rock joel, and responding to all of the lovely people on here–but, like, i really just need this guy in the most emotionally unavailable and fuckable way, i hope one of y'all gets me

tags/warnings/thots: 18+/explicit, smut, toxic ex/fuckboy lucien, sex instead of communicating or processing emotions, angst but we fuckin’ and that’s the whole plot, we hit raw in my fics bc of my imaginary latex aversion or something, crying, biting, dom lucien vibes (? i never know when that’s the right tag), big dash of pls sexy man fuck the feelings away, tell me if there’s something i should add

– no editing, no thinking, wrote this in a fever dream while staring at one of the new gifs all afternoon, idk his character! I haven’t watched anything! i just saw the chains and the face and let the horny devil in charge of my sole brain cell take the lead, aka he's my barbie, i was trying to challenge myself to just do something short like 1k- but, uhhhh it’s only 3!

seeking feedback though (as always) so i can improve!! tell me all ur thots pls!

“I know,” Lucien argues, “but I never meant to hurt you.”

“I don’t care anymore.” You speak plainly. Small and quiet. Without conviction. Apathetic. Honest.

“Anymore?”

“Baby, please.” He looks at you with those stupid round eyes. He’s effortlessly put together like the wrinkles in his silk shirt were approved by a team of stylists to give him a hint of carelessness. Your incessant attraction to an emotionally unavailable man, it pulls you toward him like a bitter fate. Your therapist, Angie, says you need to learn how to find healthy attachment attractive, but if you shudder with disgust at the thought then what’s the point?

“Just listen to me,” he continues, talking in circles. Apologizing without taking accountability. Explaining away everything. His behaviors, words, decisions. Apparently, he floats through life at the whim of others. Like one of those ugly deep sea creatures, he tempts you like a glowing lure in the dark. Your eyes glaze over, everything shifting out of focus as you dissociate in your living room. No matter how numb you are, he calls to you.

You aren’t listening to the words. They don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if his tone is sincere or if it’s thick with flattery and empty promises. It’s more basic than that. Simple. The timbre of his voice. Unique to him. Imprinted in the chambers of your heart. A sharp ache spears through you, and something cracks. A fat, hot, tear escapes. With your shoulders drooping, staring at the ground, the tear falls, splashing on the floor.

When you look up, meeting his eyes, it’s over. Lucien pulls you close, wrapping his heavy arms around your frame, bracing for the crescendo, keeping you steady. Tears stream endlessly, flooding down your cheeks, sticking to your face and his neck as you bury your face into his warm skin. He’s still trying to placate you, speaking nonsense, thinking he can comfort you. Thinking he knows why you’re upset. Thinking he understands you.

When your therapist asked you to define love you had described it as being understood. Being seen. Being known. Being considered and prioritized.

Lucien thinks he knows you. Thinks he understands you. Does he think he loves you?

Following this line of thought hurts. Splitting you open, a raw beating heart, glistening, thumping, full of life, or a meal fresh and hot for a carnivore to tear into with its sharp fangs. Plump muscle, rich and dark, bleeding out, helpless. Snapping back into reality you shake, a violent sob racking your diaphragm as the pads of his fingers massage the back of your neck. Soothing. Coaxing.

You want it sharper. Rough. Violent. Distracting. Painful. Anything. With wet lashes, swollen eyes, and ragged breath you become fixated. Licking the salty tears from the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, you can feel his muscles and tendons beneath the flesh. So human and alive. He strokes his hand down your spine, attempting to pacify you, but it sparks something lurid and ravenous, instead.

You graze your teeth along his neck. “What are you doing?” he mutters the question over the top of your head. Maybe he does know you. “What do you need?” He growls, lowly, the hand he traces your spine with trails lower this time. He’s gluttonous and torrid. A hair-trigger to shift from his concern for your pain and the hole in your heart to a sordid desire to mollify you with his fingers and his cock.

Maybe it’s a perversion, the tangled experience of despair and desire, the duet of anger and arousal, the sick escape using sex to skip over the emotional suffering. But it’s exactly what you want. It’s the root of the fucked up toxicity. Of everything wrong between you. He does know. He does understand. The same heat that flickers in your core sparks in his.

Voracious and brash. You bite down, sinking your teeth into his neck, igniting a wildfire. An untamable beast. Again and again and again. Biting, sucking, kissing. His skin tender and raw, your lips wet and swollen. You run a hand along the back of his neck, tugging into his hair, anchoring your grip, and pulling a husky groan from his throat.

“What do you need?” Lucien repeats, this time with a sharper edge. He detaches you from the safety of the crook of his neck. His two hands. Unnecessarily large, warm, and steady brace either side of your jaw, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He holds you in front of his face. Vulnerable. Messy. Heat radiates from your cheeks. You release a shaky breath.

“Don’t make me say it.” It’s a whisper. Pleading and demanding at the same time.

The cocky smirk that spreads on his face is sickening. It makes you want to slap him, to hear the crack of your palm against his cheek. It makes you want to surrender. Soft and pliable, ready to please and earn praise. It makes you want to scream. To bite him so hard you draw blood. To fuck him until he can’t talk.

You tell him all of it. Exactly what you need, what you want, what you refuse to say. You tell him all through your kiss. The hunger in your lips as you press them to his, the violence on your tongue, the desperate and vulnerable need to be cared for in the soft moans that rise from your chest, from your heart, from the blood in your veins. He chases all of it. The punishment and pleasure.

He backs you into the kitchen, caging you against the counter like a scene from a movie. Impervious to whatever protest you make as he clears space, blindly sweeping his arm over the counter before lifting you onto it. The edge of the counter digs into your soft thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re ready to drown in the vanilla musk and bourbon-spiced scent of him. The bass in his voice that makes your eyes fall shut and your head tip back against the cupboard behind you. The bruising pressure of his grip that he knows you crave.

“Baby,” he croons. His words are soft and gentle. As if he propped you on the counter to tend to your wounds. But his hands show no mercy. Roughly ridding you of your clothes. Dropping them into a pile on the floor. He’s ruthless with you. In ways you can’t be with yourself. In ways other lovers could never master. Harsh without being cruel. Deliberate without a plan.

He lets you tug his shirt over his head. Skin to skin the intensity is primal. “Fuck,” is all you can manage to say. The heat is overwhelming, prickling your nerves and sharpening every sensation. Lucien toys with you like it’s his favorite game. Alternating.

First, palming reverently at the flesh, sweeping his tongue over your hard nipples, and teasing the wet skin with his hot breath.

You let him make the decisions. Take the lead. You’re done arguing, done thinking, done with the guilt of letting him in the door, done with acting like you’re any better than him. You brace yourself, one palm flat on the counter, the other resting on his shoulder. Taking whatever he gives.

He switches up. Everything becomes pointed and precise. He sucks marks into your skin on the underside of your breasts. He pinches and flicks the pert bud of your straining nipples. The contact of his fingers, tongue, and teeth sends white-hot jolts of electricity straight to your cunt. He bites down hard enough to make you choke on a moan. Your whine fills the room, twisted with pain and pleasure.

“You poor thing,” he purrs. Your face is still wet from your tears. But now they’re tears of frustration. “Just a mess.” You reach for his belt, impatient, but he stops you. He’s not done looking. He lifts one of your legs, propping your foot onto the counter and posing you obscenely in front of him. His gaze makes your pussy throb.

He’s torn.

Studying your face. Everything unsaid in your eyes. The anguish and rage. The acerbic disdain. The nearly imperceptible longing.

Admiring your sex, spread open for him. Shining with your arousal. Swollen, slick lips so sensitive for him. Your core, fluttering with anticipation, achingly empty without him.

He holds your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger. His eyes swirl with lust and something you can’t quite place. “You have no idea,” he rasps. “No idea how much it fucking kills me to see you like this. And knowing I’m the reason why.”

You don’t know if he means it breaks his heart to see the way you suffer or if he means the sight of you dripping on the counter has him so hard it hurts. You don’t know which you’d believe anyway. He’s not hard up to find someone else to torment or to fuck. That thought makes your throat dry.

“I can’t stay away from you,” he traces his fingers down your soft inner thigh, closer and closer to where you need him. “How could I?” You tip your head to the side, your limbs and head feel heavy, drunk on a cocktail of everything you love and hate about him all at once.

“Then don’t.”

Your reply makes him smile again. He’s so handsome when he smiles it’s infuriating. “You could scream at me, kick me out, hate me–but you still let me touch you, you need me to touch you. Why do I love that so much?”

“You like feeling important.” You let your snarky comment out without thinking. His question was definitely rhetorical. A few emotions flicker across his face before, a dark little smirk curls the corner of his mouth.

He feeds off of your challenge. “There she is.”

“I never left,” you snap, frustration spilling over. He laughs, loose and easy.

“Listen to me,” Lucien says, low and velvety. Subduing you with the tension and proximity. “I know. You want me to use you. Like you’re my toy. Until you can’t keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Yes.”

“I know.” He echoes. Then he closes the gap, kissing you with affection. Holding himself back, but you aren’t reserved. You’re greedy; you want it harder. He just said he’d ruin you, why is he being so gentle? He pulls back with something sincere in his eyes. A whimper falls from your lips, pouty and baffled.

“Gonna fuck you like I’m trying to ruin you, baby.”

You narrow your eyes at him. Sometime soon, hopefully? You don’t snap again, answering with another yes.

He leans in, breath fanning hot over your ear. “But, we both know that tonight you’re the one using me. Ruining me. I’m your toy.”

Your breath hitches at that. You mouth I know in response, not even able to whisper it. He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He nips your ear lobe and you loose a surprised cry before gasping out his name.

He’s swift now. Purposeful. Undoing his belt, shoving his pants down and revealing his cock. Reflexively your hips tense and shift. Just looking makes you salivate. He runs his thumb over the bead of precome, drawing it along his length.

He knows how you want it. His fingers can coax you to an orgasm in no time, but you don’t want that. You want the resistance, the stretch, the dull ache, and intensity as your muscles work to let him in deeper. Nobody makes you feel the way he does. Full. Complete. Mindless.

It could be pornographic, vulgar, raunchy. The way he pushes your inner thigh further open with one hand while he uses the other to languidly stroke himself. The way he grips himself so tightly like he’s punishing himself. The way his jaw hangs slack and he mutters under his breath about how badly you need him.

To you, however, it’s a profound admission. A candid confession. The more he goads you the more it solidifies that he’s the one that needs you. That it flows so easily from him because he’s really talking about himself.

“You say you don’t care anymore, but look at you now, baby.” He shifts closer, at counter height you’re aligned perfectly. He glides the head of his cock up and down the folds of your soaked cunt. You shudder and moan, mesmerized by the sight.

“It’s almost sad how much you need me, like you can’t breathe without this,” he keeps talking.

He demands that you watch, as if there was a chance you could stop, as he lines up and sinks into you. You groan in unison. You’re so tight, he draws back out. Repeating the same motion, feeding his cock into you deeper and deeper each time. Your hot, plush walls pulse around him, adjusting. When he finally meets the end of you, he hums, pleased. “You feel that?”

You bob your head, nodding, agreeing. “Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “Perfect.” You grind against him as if you could take him any deeper, begging him to move with your needy display. It’s wholly overwhelming as is, every nerve within you alight as his cock kicks within you, tensing with the same craving to move.

He takes your hand in his, nestling your fingers around him. Somehow he feels even larger than he looks, like he shouldn’t be able to fit inside of you, but here you are feeling it and seeing it for yourself. Slowly, Lucien tilts his hips, almost pulling out of you completely before plunging in with force. He keeps up the tantalizing pace, guiding you to touch yourself. He watches your fingers with rapt attention, bracing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he drives into you with another snap of his hips that edges you closer.

He gradually speeds up, a master at tempering his desire. Your hip flexor aches as you hold yourself in place but it doesn’t matter. You find your rhythm as he holds steady at a pace that has him landing brutal thrusts that force the words out of your lungs. Soft oh’s and fuck’s pour out of you, under your breath, adding fuel to the fire blazing between you.

Lucien savors your chanting and the image of you fixed in place, taking him eagerly. Your fingers move with urgency, chasing the release that looms closer and closer. Your mind is blissfully blank, reduced to something animalistic, removed from the burden of your history. “Don’t stop,” you plead, “I’m so close.”

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you at the same pace, all the way through it. As you contract around him, when everything pulls taut and snaps within you, crying out his name, when it’s too sensitive and you whip your hand away, and as you shudder and breathe deeper and deeper. As the ache in your legs from being spread wide open returns and your ass feels numb where the edge of the counter digs into your flesh. Another tear spills from the corner of your eye, but you can’t say what it’s from anymore.

When you fidget, he stops moving, letting you readjust. A sheen of sweat glistens all over your chest and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how loud the slick noises between you are. How easy it is to get lost in Lucien's hot and heavy magnetism. You know you were falling apart before he propped you up on the counter, but you’re sure you’re a complete wreck now.

Lucien pulls out but then leans against you, pinning the length of his cock between you, hot, slick, and messy against your sweat-damp skin. He floods your senses, all you can see, hear, and smell. Caging you in his hand find a possessive hold on you, one wrapped around the back of your neck, one wrapped tight around your thigh as you hitch it around his hip.

“You feel good?” he asks. You hum in agreement. You do feel good. You know he’s not done yet, and smile wide, still hungry for more. “How good?” he asks and you know there’s something coming next.

“So good.” You trail a hand between you, drawing a line down his chest and back up to cradle his cheek in your palm. Something about the prickle of his facial hair along your palm feels so natural, domestic, and sweet. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, nuzzle against his ear, and ask him to take you to bed. But you can’t. You’ll never have that. Instead, you bait him. “I think you’re holding back though, I know you can fuck me harder than that.”

He scoffs, unamused, blowing a hot puff of air between you. His fingers dig deeper into your thigh, applying the kind of pressure that stirs arousal low in your belly.

The dark glint in his eye gives you butterflies. “I will, Baby,” his rumbling voice is innately sensual, but the condescension in his tone makes you tingly. You’re so close to him that you can feel his heart beating in his chest, you can feel the same pulse thrumming in his cock, still flush against you as he slants his lower half along yours. He’s all things heavy and firm, strong and sculpted, yet fitting so naturally against you. You need more, wriggling and squirming against him, you can’t contain the restlessness.

“You know,” he says slowly, drawing your eyes back to his. “You can keep trying to move on, but no one else will ever know you like this. No one else will ever ruin you the way I do. You can tell me you don’t care anymore, but you’ll never let anyone else in the way you let me. They won’t touch that part of you, the one that’s mine—because it’ll always be mine.”

It trickles through you slowly until your blood feels like it’s boiling. They’re tears of anger now. It’s like a sick double entendre.

“I know,” your words are steeped in every emotion cascading through you.

You don’t know if it’s worse that he’s right. That there’s a Lucien-shaped mark imprinted on your heart that will never fade. Or if it’s worse that he doesn’t even know it applies to him just the same. That he always comes back because he’s trying to fill the same void.

Maybe he does know. Maybe he does know and this is all he can do to make it up to you.

Maybe that’s why he leads you to your bedroom and lives up to his word.

Why he fucks you so hard you see stars. Why he doesn’t stop even after he comes deep inside of you with a possessive always gonna be mine. Why he litters your skin with more false promises and confessions. Why he gives you so many orgasms you lose track.

Maybe that’s why he’s still there when the sun starts to peek through your window. Why he fucks you slowly when you’re too tender and exhausted to take him any harder until you’re floating in limbo between a dream and reality. Why he stays there, just cradling your back into his chest and listening to the rhythm of your breath.

Maybe he does know.

PLEASE COME YELL WITH ME ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL GUY BC I NEED HIM IN A SUPER NORMAL WAY or tell me if my writing was incoherent or if you can't relate to the toxic ex that is still the best fuck of your life (cruel and twisted fr)

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

tags for the babes that let me annoy them with my thots <3

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin

#lucien de leon x f!reader #pedro pascal character smut #lucien de leon x reader #lucien de leon x you #pedro pascal #ppcu fanfic #pwp fic #the uninvited #lucien flores #but not #lucien x f!reader

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lxvebun · 9 months ago

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challenge accepted!♡

synopsis: you're surprised when you find out he has not had his first kiss yet, you're even more surprised when he lets you be the one to change that aka your first kiss with Satoru<3

content: Gojo Satoru x gender neutral reader. Fluff!. Written with the highschool arc/satosugu friendship in mind so you'd be in the same grade together, but you can read it however you wish♡ Detailed descriptions of kissing. Around 650 words. Eng is not my first language. Not entirely proofread, lmk if there are any annoying mistakes♡

Suguru version

He's the strongest around, the Gojo Satoru! He has everything he could want and he doesn't have to prove anything to anyone. He doesn't have to but he does enjoy doing so.

So when you and Suguru teamed up against him, giggling oh so cruelly because here he was spouting out dating advice, saying that Geto will turn into a "grumpy old man" if he continues to reject people's advances, when he hasn't even had his first kiss yet, he knew he had to fix that♡

⁎⁺˳✧༚໒꒱.*

"You don't have much of a say seeing as you haven't kissed, let alone dated anyone yet, Satoru.~" Suguru replies, voice still as gentle as always even when he's dealing with his best friend's nonsense.

You're not entirely sure why your heart skipped a beat at the revelation. Sure it's unexpected given Gojo's flirty nature and good looks, but it's igniting a feeling of something almost hopeful in your heart....you don't like him that, not at all, right? So why is the image of him pulling you in by your waist and dipping down to lock his lips against yours fogging over your mind?

You've gone quiet for a bit as you hoped to make sense of what you're feeling, not unperceived by your friends sitting next to you

"Y/n?" They speak at the same time. You miss the shared glance of concern

You're glad you can blame the afternoon sun for the sudden spark of warmth surging through your body.

"Sorry, yeah, I'm here" you reply a bit clumsily as you make the mistake of looking back at him and the words almost get stuck in your throat. he looks ridiculously handsome with the way his head is slightly tilted, enough to look at you over his glasses, blue eyes shining even brighter in the sunlight, and something as simple as that really shouldn't be as attractive as it is.

Just for a split second you see his eyes soften as he lets his gaze trace of your features before he nudges his glasses back in place and continues-

"You're supposed to back me up, you know?? Tell him!"

"There's nothing wrong with not having had your first kiss yet, Suguru" you say sweetly. Gojo visibly relaxes and that stupid infamous smirk forms on his lips as he nods along with your words. you stifle back a laugh as you continue, "Unless you're Gojo Satoru"

The flail of his arms is entirely dramatic and entirely in character. It's not helping that you can hear the snickering of Suguru beside him too.

He's quiet for a moment as he regains his composure, one of his arms now draped behind you along the bench. He takes his glasses off and hangs them on the collar of his shirt.

"Alright"

.....

"Alright?"

Your body registers it before your brain does, heart fluttering in your chest, a hitch in your breath as he leans in. He's close, but he doesn't close the gap just yet. You can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks and his intoxicatingly good, probably extremely expensive cologne envelops the rest of your senses, makes you a little dizzy as all you see, hear, and feel is him but he allows you enough space to back away if this is not what you desire.

Perhaps your heart already knew what you're mind was just trying to catch up to. You have fallen in love. Fallen in love with Satoru of all people.

You're sure that at least a minute has passed since he leaned in but he doesn't falter and patiently waits until you do finally give him the smallest of nods and then it's over for you, you've fallen too deep now and you cannot and do not want to come back from this, from him.

the kiss is sweet, almost too sweet if you didn't have a sweet tooth that could battle Satoru's. And for a first kiss it's quite heavy, a little deeper and longer than you expected and it continues to linger warmly on your lips when he finally pulls away, face a little flushed, eyes bright, and smirking like he just won the lottery

"Now, listen, Suguru" he begins but you tune it out. Too focused on trying to calm the racing of your heart, too enamoured with the memory of his lips on yours

Gojo doesn't remove his arm from around your shoulder but his other hand has intertwined with yours as he draws heart shapes on the back of your hand with his thumb, silently letting you know this was more than him just trying to prove something, silently letting you know, he'd be yours if you'll have him♡

Thank you for reading, angels!<3

I haven't written for jjk in such a long time😩 but I started season 2 and I want them to be HAPPY

#gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jjk fic #jjk fluff

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theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter · 4 months ago

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More then enough 🦽

Mapi León x reader x Ingrid Engen

warning : disability 🕶🦻

Summary :

Being a wheelchair user, you're afraid your girlfriends will love you less.

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the pitch. The girls had just finished their training session, and Mapi and Ingrid stood by the sidelines, both laughing and chatting as they packed up their gear. The atmosphere around them was warm and light, hearted, despite the hard work they’d put in. But their eyes constantly flickered over to the stands, where you sat, watching with your usual gentle smile.

You had been in their life for a while now, ever since you met Mapi at a charity event she attended a few months ago. You were disabled, using a wheelchair after a car accident left you unable to walk, but that never stopped you from living fully, embracing every moment with joy and a sense of adventure. Mapi had been drawn to that strength in you, the way you approached life with so much heart despite everything you'd gone through.

The three of you had clicked almost immediately. Mapi's fierce energy, Ingrid's calm, soothing nature, and your own witty humor and zest for life had created the perfect dynamic. Mapi was fiery and protective, always making sure you felt included and cared for, while Ingrid’s gentleness brought a comforting peace, like a calming wave that soothed all your worries.

Today, as you waited for them to finish their session, you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. Though you tried not to let your disability affect your confidence, there were days when you wondered if you were enough for them. Two incredible athletes, constantly moving and living in ways you could no longer do.

As you looked down at your hands, lost in thought, Mapi’s voice pulled you from your reverie.

- Holà, cariño, what are you thinking about?

You glanced up, finding both Mapi and Ingrid now standing in front of you, their eyes full of concern. Mapi knelt down to be at your eye level, while Ingrid took her place beside you, gently resting a hand on your shoulder. You hesitated before answering, biting your lip.

- Just… wondering if you guys ever feel like you’re missing out, being with me. You’re always on the go, always so active, and I—well, I can’t do the things you do.

Mapi's brows furrowed, and her hands found yours, gripping them tightly.

- Don’t say that. You’re never a burden, cariño. We don’t want you to be anyone else. We love you exactly as you are.

Ingrid nodded, her voice soft but firm.

- It’s true. We’ve never thought about what we’re missing because you’re everything we need. You bring so much light into our lives.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, laughing softly.

- You two are too much. I don’t deserve you.

Mapi shook her head, a playful smirk on her lips.

- Nonsense. You deserve everything. And you’ve got us, so you must be doing something right.

Ingrid smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple.

- We’re a team, remember? We’re in this together.

You let out a breath, the weight on your chest lifting slightly. With them by your side, things always seemed brighter, and you never felt alone. You didn’t need to be anyone else but yourself, they loved you for who you were.

As the three of you sat there, the cool breeze brushing against your skin, Mapi suddenly jumped to her feet with a mischievous grin.

- Alright, enough of this sappy stuff. How about a game?

You looked at her, confused.

- A game? What kind of game?

She pointed to a nearby soccer ball.

- We’re gonna play a little football.

Your eyes widened.

- I can’t play football, Mapi.

- Why not?

She challenged, already grabbing the ball.

- We’ll modify the rules. You will be a goalie so you can stay in your chair, and Ingrid and I will try to score. First one to five wins.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her stubbornness. You rolled your eyes playfully.

- You are impossible.

Mapi kicked the ball gently toward you.

- Come on, love, show us what you’ve got.

And so, the three of you played. It wasn’t about skill or competition. It was about fun, about laughter, about being together. You quickly realized that it didn’t matter that you were in a wheelchair. Mapi and Ingrid didn’t care about what you couldn’t do. They only cared about spending time with you, making memories, and showing you just how much they adored you.

As the sun set, and the last goal was scored (you might have let Ingrid win, just for the look of joy on her face), the three of you collapsed onto the grass, breathless from laughter and exertion. Mapi lay beside you, her arm slung across your lap, while Ingrid rested her head on your shoulder.

- See?

Mapi said between breaths.

- Told you you could play.

You smiled, looking down at her. As the night settled around you, you realized that in their love, there was no place for doubt. With them, you were whole. You were perfect. And most importantly, you were loved just as you were.

#barca femeni #barca femini x reader #barca x reader #fc barcelona #woso x reader #mapi leon #mapi leon x reader #maria leon #barcelona femeni #fc barca #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #maria leon x reader #mapi leon x reader x ingrid engen #ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader #mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen x reader x mapi leon #ingrid x reader x mapi #mapi x reader x ingrid

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pluckyredhead · 5 months ago

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“I have larger thoughts about how DC has kind of written themselves into a hole with Jason and now he's stuck in this limbo that's unsatisfying to everyone which is why so many Jason fans are mad all the time, but that's for another ask.”

🤓 Do tell…

Okay, let's see if I can do this in less than a thousand words!

So Jason, at his core, represents a challenge to Bruce's ideology, right? Bruce's #1 rule is No Killing, and Jason's basic idea is: "That doesn't work. Some villains are bad enough that they have to be killed for the greater good." (There's something very funny about Jason, famously undead, thinking killing stops ANYONE in the DCU, but we'll leave that aside for now.) This is a really interesting ethical quandary to throw Bruce's way, and by having it voiced by his beloved son, his greatest failure, his second most profound tragedy, it becomes a deeply thorny emotional problem as well as an ethical problem. That's all great.

The problem is, DC can't allow Jason to be right, for two reasons:

Batman must always be right and must always win.

...I mean, come on. They can't actually publish a story advocating for a traumatized 19-year-old with assault weapons to be the arbiter of who lives and who dies, that's nonsense. I love Jason but really.

The problem with that is, Jason is a major recurring character.

UTRH works great in a vacuum. But if Jason is showing up in a comic every month, or even just a few times a year, this central conflict has to be addressed, and the options for doing that are limited:

Bruce and Jason fight and Jason wins. DC will never let this happen. (And what would "Jason wins" even look like, honestly? He's not going to kill Bruce.)

Bruce and Jason fight and Bruce wins. They've done this a bunch (sometimes with Dick in place of Bruce), but Jason fans don't want to see him repeatedly getting his ass kicked while being lectured, and frankly it doesn't make Bruce look great either.

Bruce allows Jason to kill people. This can't happen either; it would be wildly out of character for Bruce, not to mention literally everyone in the Batfamily. They are all canonically pretty opposed to murder.

Jason continues to operate however he wants, but outside of Bruce's reach/jurisdiction. As wretched as RHATO was, I actually think it was a smart decision to keep most of the action outside of Gotham, because then we can pretend Bruce doesn't know what Jason's up to, just like we pretend Clark couldn't super-hear everything in Gotham and save Bruce's ass every single night without breaking a sweat. The problem here is that it means Jason is unavailable for the kinds of casual team-ups and crossovers that fans of all stripes crave - plus, every time he comes back to Gotham, he and Bruce have to relitigate their entire relationship AGAIN.

Jason compromises and agrees to follow Bruce's rules in order to have a relationship with the Batfamily. This is basically where DC has landed, and I understand why they did, because it's the option that allows them to publish the most comics with Jason in them, which they want to do because he is an immensely popular character who makes them money. However, it leaves him in this awkward position where instead of being a tragic villain/badass antihero, he's just...the sassiest member of the family, while simultaneously always being available to be treated like shit because he's Bad. He gets punished without even the fun of doing the crime anymore.

So what's the solution? I don't know. Theoretically, DC could try to do what Marvel does with the Punisher. People always get mad when I say Jason is DC's Punisher, but he kills pretty much indiscriminately in UTRH and RHATO, for pretty much the same reasons. ("Dudebros think it looks cool.") And Marvel heroes inexplicably let Frank just kill however many people he wants unless they're appearing in a Punisher comic, at which point they go "Frank, you naughty boy, I shall stop you!" and then Frank kicks their ass and makes them look like an idiot. DC is never going to let Jason do that to Bruce, plus it would put a real damper on the Wayne family Thanksgiving dinner.

Alternately, they could make him a Nightwing villain. Dick has spent 40 years fighting inconclusively with Deathstroke; he's much better suited to go endless rounds with Jason without either of them Always Triumphantly Winning than Bruce is. I don't personally want this option because I just don't care that much about Dick, but it could be really interesting, though it would limit Jason to fewer appearances and primarily in Dick's book. (Jason would have made a superb Red Robin villain 15 years ago for similar reasons.)

My vote, I think, would be for a really good (god, if only), really thoughtful Jason series where he has reason to seriously reevaluate his philosophy towards crime - something that reshapes him into a character who can still challenge Bruce's entrenched ideas without being so diametrically opposed to them as to make him a villain. He needs to be close enough to Bruce's rules to appear in crossovers, but far enough and specific enough that he's not just Meaner Nightwing. Jason is a passionate character; DC needs to find a new way to let his passion work for him, because right now he doesn't have anything driving him, and it's satisfying no one.

(900 words, BOOM!)

#jason todd #red hood #meta

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vitalverstappen · 21 days ago

Text

Bigger Isn't Always Better - P. Gasly

summary: getting a Christmas tree was supposed to be simple, but luckily both you and Pierre's minds are stuck in the gutter

pairing: Pierre Gasly x girlfriend!reader

warnings: a lot of innuendos guys, like a lot. i was listening to a nonsense christmas while writing this

word count: 2.1k

masterlist

Getting the tree had been a fiasco in itself. You had driven an hour to the tree farm, spent hours walking around, trying to pick the best one, chopped it down, drove it back home, and lugged it up a flight of stairs, only for it to be too tall.

As you stood in the living room, staring up at the tree that now loomed over you like some kind of giant, it felt like every single step had led to this moment of inevitable defeat. The tree was so tall that it nearly brushed the ceiling.

“Well, this is great” you muttered, pacing around the tree and eyeing the absurdly high branches. “We really outdid ourselves this time, didn’t we?”

Pierre, who had been standing by the door watching you fume, grinned, clearly taking pleasure in your frustration. “Hey, at least we tried to get the perfect tree,” he said with a shrug, as if the effort was worth something.

You spun around to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Tried? It’s looking like you in the mornings. ‘Tried’ is not the word I’d use.”

Pierre took a slow step toward the tree, examining it as if it were some kind of puzzle to solve. “I mean, it’s still a good tree. We can just… trim the top a little. It’s not the end of the world.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Trim the top? You want me to cut the top off the tree after we spent all day getting it here? That’s gonna look ridiculous.”

He let out a soft laugh, enjoying pushing your buttons. “It’s just a little trimming. It’ll make it fit. Plus, you know what they say - bigger isn’t always better.” He smirked at you as if he had just won the argument.

You felt your eye twitch at his smugness. “I don’t care what they say,” you shot back. “We’re not getting rid of the classic tree shape.”

“Yeah, you always liked it a little bushy.” He joked, the smirk still plastered on his face.

If looks could kill, Pierre would be dead with the one you gave him in response.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, no cutting the top. But we could… cut the trunk? It’ll still keep the tree shape.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly as the suggestion settled in. “Are you gonna do it?”

Pierre paused, his smile now long gone as he considered your question. “I mean… I could.” He walked closer to the tree, inspecting the trunk like a lumberjack sizing up his next challenge. “It’s just a matter of cutting a few inches off the bottom. The tree will still be straight, I promise.”

You folded your arms, eyeing him skeptically. “I don’t know, Pierre. Last time you ‘fixed’ something like this, we ended up with half a bookshelf.”

He gave you an exaggerated pout. “That was one time. And it worked out and became a gorgeous nightstand, didn’t it?” His grin returned, more mischievous than ever.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Fine, but if this tree ends up crooked or falling over by Christmas morning, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal. But I’m confident it’ll be fine. I’ve got this under control.” He said before turning back to you. “But could you help me get this back outside?”

You blinked, unsure you’d heard him correctly. “What?”

Pierre gave you a shrug, clearly enjoying your confusion. “Well, if I’m cutting the trunk, it might be easier to do it outside. Less mess, you know?”

“You realize this is a two-person job, right?” you sighed, already moving toward the tree. “Because I am not carrying this thing by myself.”

Pierre’s eyes sparkled with the challenge. “Exactly. We’ll make it a team effort. Besides, how hard can it be?”

Famous last words, but you grabbed the end of the tree’s base anyway. Pierre started on the other side, his face set with a grin of determination. Together, you carefully maneuvered the tree through the living room, sidestepping furniture and trying not to bash the branches against the walls.

The thought of bringing it through the garage crossed your mind, but it was hard enough getting it up the stairs of the garage, you couldn’t imagine trying to get it down them.

But by the time you reached the front door, sweat was starting to bead on your forehead, and the tree was definitely looking like it might be more trouble than it was worth. Still, there was no turning back now. You’d made it this far.

You pushed the door open, and Pierre started pulling the tree through, only for it to get stuck in the door halfway through.

“I knew it,” you muttered. “It’s too big.”

Pierre, undeterred, pulled harder. “Come on, it’s just a little tight.”

“Just how you like it, huh?” you quipped back as you continued to shove the tree.

With one final push, the tree finally slipped free, the branches brushing against the outside of the house as it tumbled down the steps. You both stared down at it for a moment, panting from the effort, before Pierre turned to you with a knowing smirk.

“See? Piece of cake.”

“Yeah, if you call nearly killing us with a Christmas tree ‘a piece of cake,’” you said, wiping your brow.

“Oh come on, we’ve had rougher times” Pierre said, patting your bum as he walked to the garage to grab the saw.

As he walked back to the tree, you followed reluctantly. The enormous thing was now resting awkwardly on the front lawn, its branches splayed out in all directions. The tree, which had seemed so majestic inside, now looked comically large next to the house. It was impossible to ignore how ridiculous the situation had become.

“So,” you began, eyeing the trunk again, “how exactly are you planning on cutting this thing?”

Pierre didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the towering tree. “Simple, it’ll just lose a few inches on the bottom,” he said, walking over to the trunk with the saw in hand.

“As long as you’re not the one losing a few inches” you remarked, your eyes scanning your boyfriend’s body.

Pierre chuckled, shaking his head as he got into position. “Let’s just get this done, and we can move onto the good stuff.”

With a deep breath, Pierre set the saw against the tree’s trunk and started to cut. The sound of the teeth grinding through the wood made you cringe a bit, but it was too late to stop now.

Minutes later, the trunk was a few inches shorter, and the tree now stood a little less… intimidating. You both stepped back to survey the results.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Pierre said, wiping his hands on his pants. “Though you’re usually the one with sticky stuff on your hands.”

Your hand playfully slapped his bicep as a smile formed on your lips. “Shut up, Gasly,” you took a deep breath. “But I admit, it looks better. But if this thing falls over in the middle of the night, I’m never letting you live it down.”

Pierre smiled, brushing off the warning. “I’ve got it under control. This thing’s not going anywhere.”

As you made your way back inside, dragging the tree carefully behind you, you realized the adventure wasn’t over yet. There were still lights to hang, the ornaments to place, and the inevitable arguments about where to put each decoration.

Once the tree was nestled in its stand, and looking less like it was going to put a hole in your ceiling, you and Pierre carried down the boxes of tree decorations from the attic.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Pierre said, placing the last box down in the living room.

“I don’t think this disaster movie can get any worse,” you muttered, rubbing your temples

He opened the first box, revealing the lights, which were tangled in a mess. The smile on his face faltered for a second before reappearing. “I swear these were in perfect condition last year,” he muttered, trying to untangle them while attempting to look entirely unbothered.

“Yeah, instead they look like how we were last night.” You laughed as you walked into the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

Pierre’s eyes twinkled as he glanced up at you. “Okay, but you loved that mess. At least, that’s how you sounded.” He pulled the lights apart with exaggerated care, his smirk only growing.

It took a few more minutes of Pierre wrestling with the lights to get them completely untangled. Once he did, the two of you worked in tandem wrapping the tree with the incandescent glow. As you did though, your boyfriend somehow managed to get the entire string tangled around himself. You couldn’t help but laugh as he stood there, looking like a Christmas decoration in his own right, with the lights wrapped around his ankles, arms, and one around his neck.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said, struggling to stifle your laughter. “It’s like looking in a mirror.”

“I mean I was gonna use the garland to be festive, but if you’d prefer the lights, I guess I can make that work,” he winked

You shook your head as you helped unravel Pierre. “I think we should just stick with tape.”

Pierre’s smirk never wavered as you untangled him from the lights, and after a few minutes of carefully removing the mess, you both returned to your task. The tree was quickly adorned with lights, and the vision was finally coming to life.

The two of you slowly worked through the box of ornaments, placing each one carefully on the branches. If you were with any other person in the world, the moment would have been almost peaceful. But you were with Pierre, and anything that man did was far from peaceful.

The sound of glass and plastic hitting the carpet filled your ears as your back was facing Pierre. You took a deep breath before you turned around to look at your boyfriend, and two ornament balls on the ground. Thankfully, they were still in one piece, but Pierre’s eyes widened as he looked up at you.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen…” he began, a sheepish grin on his face.

A chuckle escaped you as you sighed, thankful that the ornaments were still intact. “I just can’t believe that your balls finally dropped.”

Pierre stared at you for a moment, his grin slowly shifting into mock offense. “Oh, you did not just go there.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you crossed your arms. “Oh, I did”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head. “I should’ve known.” He bent down to pick up the ornaments, carefully placing them back on the tree.

“Just be careful,” you said, watching him with amusement. “If you break one of my favorite ornaments, I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

Pierre gave you a sincere smile. “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.”

You gave him a knowing look in response. “We both know that’s a load of shit.”

You both continued decorating, the teasing somehow making the moment more enjoyable than you could’ve imagined. As you added the final touches, Pierre took a step back to survey the tree.

“Mon cheri, I have to admit, it looks pretty good,” he said, a satisfied grin on his face.

“I know you do,” you replied, a smirk dancing on your lips as you took the spot next to him.

Pierre pulled you in, his lips brushing against yours in a light, teasing kiss. As you leaned in again, he pulled away, a smirk on his face.

“So,” he began, his arm getting tighter around your waist. “You think you’ve been naughty or nice this year?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Nice, obviously,” you teased, leaning into him.

Pierre leaned closer to you as well, his mouth only centimeters from your ear as he spoke, his voice slightly raspier than before. “Are you sure about that, mon amour?”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his breath tickled your ear, the playful tension between you growing. You pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes, and smirked.

“Why don’t you decide then?” you teased, a flicker of mischief in your eyes.

Pierre’s grin widened at the challenge, his eyes darkening with amusement. Without a word, he threw his shirt off and scooped you up in his arms, purposefully resting one hand on your ass as he carried you. You knew exactly where this was going, and you had been anticipating it all day. A laugh escaped you as your body pressed against his chest, feeling the warmth radiate from him.

“You’re unbelievable” you said, but the words were more playful than reproachable. You leaned into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart under his bare skin.

Pierre chuckled as he made his way into the bedroom, “Oh, you have no idea.”

Maybe you didn’t have a clue, but you did know you were ready to be his Vixen.

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charliemwrites · 11 months ago

Text

A little request from the discord server about Castle “Daddy” Alistair and No Nut November.

CW: free use spice; everything is enthusiastically consensual and part of an established dynamic.

It’s all Keegan’s fault.

Looking back on all the devastation, every fault line to this disaster can be traced back to Keegan fucking Russ and his stupid cocky mouth.

It started like this: the team was playing cards and sharing drinks, the dinner Nova prepared long since enjoyed. They were discussing silly internet trends and challenges, trying to explain to an unimpressed Nikto what the point of it all was.

Castle was listening with mild amusement, shaking his head at the nonsense of it all. The fact that these arbitrary tasks were considered difficult was a mystery to him and he said so. Then Keegan tapped his finger on the table, a glint in his eye.

“Ya know… November is coming up…” he mused.

“What about it?” Castle asked.

Nova to perked up, eyebrows arched. No way would Keegan actually suggest—

“There’s this one challenge I think you’d struggle with Cap. It happens that month.”

Castle snorted softly, tossed a couple cards down. Let the moment draw out just to fuck with his partner, even though they all knew he’d humor him in the end.

“Yeah? What is it?” he asked, taking a swig of his beer.

“It’s called No Nut November. Pretty much what it says on the tin. You don’t cum for the whole month,” Keegan explained. He sat back and crossed his arms, looking smug. “Tell me you wouldn’t fold, Cap.”

Castle leveled him a steady, smoldering look. “I wouldn’t fold.”

Nova shifted, face flushing when Castle focused on her, eyebrows arched in silent invitation. She debated all of three seconds before throwing caution to the wind; Keegan could use a bit of backup against a man so formidable. And besides, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about what would happen.

“I’m not saying you couldn’t,” she mused, “I’m just saying that given your usual libido, I don’t think it would be a walk in the park.”

He snorted, seeing right through her half-hearted attempt at diplomacy. “Is that right? And what do you think, Nikto?”

A pause as he considered, then spoke low and measured. “The sergeants are getting too cocky.”

Castle smirked. “I agree.”

A week into the “challenge” Keegan had nearly forgotten. The team was busy, not much opportunity for more than cuddles and stolen kisses.

Two weeks in and he was enjoying himself immensely. Teasing Castle with wandering hands, climbing under his desk and getting him right to the edge, only to be stopped by a firm hand in his hair and a low warning that he wasn’t as sly as he thought. It wasn’t like Keegan (or anyone else on the team) was taking on the challenge. They were getting to indulge themselves as often as time and energy would allow - usually with their Daddy right there, talking them through it, organizing them as efficiently as he would in the field. Taking care of them with his mouth and hands to stave off some of his own frustration.

But week three… week three he started to worry. It wasn’t that Castle was struggling. It wasn’t that he was snappish or pent up or frustrated. It was that he seemed perfectly fine. A quick adjustment of his pants here or there, idly stroking himself while he watched his partners together. But he was like fucking iron for himself, and Keegan’s normal admiration was taking on a frightened edge.

And then week four began the silent, unknown countdown. Keegan felt it on the back of his neck like a sniper scope. A little, private smirk on his captain’s face, or a slightly rougher than usual sigh. An unusual flex in his jaw or twitch in his steady hands.

On November 30th, the team was lounging in their private rec room, idly watching a tv show together. Nikto was curled up with Nova in one of the big arm chairs, her head settled on his shoulder. Keegan and Castle were sharing the couch, the latter with an arm thrown over the back around his sergeant’s shoulders.

Halfway through, he glanced casually at his watch. Stood up to take his empty glass to the sink. Sidled back around to his spot.

Then snatched Keegan by the shirt and threw him to the ground.

“What the—”

His sweats were yanked down to midthigh, but his underwear didn’t survive, split right down the seam by brutal hands.

“Did you have fun?” Castle asked, dangerously low and even.

Keegan started to push himself up, but a big hand on the back of his neck stopped him. And then a heavy body followed, pinning him prone to the floor. He shuddered as he felt the thick, hot, rocking fucking hard cock sliding between his asscheeks.

“S-sir…“

A thrust hard enough to rock his entire body, dragging his quickly-filling dick across the carpet. He choked out a noise as reality began to set in. Christ, he almost wished that didn’t feel so good.

“Daddy, I—”

“Asked you a question, didn’t I?” Castle rumbled, voice deceptively casual. “Did you have fun?”

Keegan shuddered, any defiance or self-preservation draining when he felt the pierced head of his daddy’s cock catching at his rim. His well-stretched, well-used, still-wet rim. Because Castle had spent an hour before dinner getting him off on his thick fingers.

“Yeah…”

“What was that? A bit louder, kid.”

“Yes, Daddy, I had fun.”

Castle chuckled, so deep and low and rough that Keegan could feel it in his own chest, all the way down into the pit of squirming stomach.

“Good,” he cooed, “I hope it was worth it. Because now it’s my turn.”

Keegan was a stupid, drooling mess when midnight struck. Stuffed full of his captain’s cock and shuddering on oversensitivity. Would forever deny the high-pitched whine that escaped when he felt the absolute flood of cum being fucked into him. There was so much, it leaked out around Castle’s still-hard cock and dripped down Keegan’s reddened thighs.

“Happy December 1st,” Castle chuckled, pulling out.

Keegan shuddered as he stood, could hear the audibly pop as he cracked his neck.

“Nikto, take care of Keegan. I’m not done with him yet.”

“Yes, sir.”

A heavy, tense pause.

“You know what’s next, don’t you, babygirl?”

“Daddy, I’m not the one that—”

“If you run, I’m fucking you wherever I catch you,” he warned, taking a languid step towards her.

Nikto silently slipped out of the way to kneel down by a dazed Keegan. Nova despaired. “So make your next choice very carefully.”

He had them both twice over that night, leaving them whimpering and sobbing in his bed. They only got a break when Nikto took one for the team, kneeling down to suck Castle off so his partners could get a rest.

The next ten days were a lustful sort of hell. At any moment, without warning, Castle would grab a teammate and press them against the nearest surface - his desk, a wall, a chair, even the counter at gun range - and pound the daylights out of them. Sometimes even going out of his way to sneak up, appearing like a shadow and dragging one of them into a supply closet to ruin them.

On a normal routine, Castle had an almost improbable level of stamina and lust. But after a month without getting off, with satisfying himself on his partners’ pleasure and indulging their teasing? He was utterly insatiable. Keegan made a comment about him being so horny that Castle would override biology and get him pregnant. One day, he’d learn to keep the thoughts inside. Blame it on his brain being ruined by astronomical levels of cock.

The compensation fucking finally began to taper off halfway into December, Castle seeming to level out back to his normal libido. Still high, but not anytime-anywhere-anyone levels anymore. He did chuckle at his jumpy teammates in the aftermath though, watching their pupils blow out whenever he looked at them a certain way.

The next time they played cards (everyone but Castle sitting gingerly in their chairs) he smirked at Keegan around his beer bottle.

“So, you wanna try your luck next year?”

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #cod oc #my oc #castle ‘daddy’ alistair #captain daddy #keegan p russ #nova cod #cod nikto

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thelibrarian1895 · 3 months ago

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Brotherly bonding

I'm first going to make a statement.

Duke Thomas and Tim Drake are the best among the bats at riddles, puzzles, and similar quandaries.

Yes Bruce is good too, but Tim and Duke are better.

Whenever the Riddler is out, Tim and Duke are the ones absolutely on top of that before any of the other Bats register anything.

Duke and Tim generally do this together because while they both enjoy the mental stimulation from dealing with Riddler's stuff, Duke still has some trauma associated with Riddler from his early time and it is an unacknowledged, unspoken, unconsciously known thing that Tim is the emotional support Bat. Duke also likes Tim being there because Tim was his Robin and he gets a small thrill out of being teamed up with his childhood hero. Tim enjoys the mental stimulation and spending time with a sibling who has not tried to kill him and has not betrayed him in some severely emotionally scarring fashion.

When the Riddler isn't out and about, Tim and Duke can and will challenge one another with riddles and puzzles and whatnot. This is to keep sharp, to engage in friendly competition (because all the Bats are competitive as heck) and to generally have fun. When they want an ego boost they might invite one of the other Bats to join in the increasingly convoluted riddle scenarios they've devised.

Tim and Duke might also be planning a road trip to go to every Escape Room along the East Cast and set records for fastest escape time. They are debating whether or not to invite any of the siblings or their various super powered friends. So far they've agreed Cassandra can join if she's in the country.

(There was one Escape Room in Gotham, it went out of business very quickly, before Tim and Duke even got a chance to go through it. Gothamites felt they got enough of that nonsense in day to day life, they didn't need to pay for it)

#batman #tim drake #batfamily #gotham #duke thomas #red robin #signal dc #dc riddler #batfam #cassandra wayne #they are brothers your honor #bruce wayne

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msschemmenti · 22 days ago

Text

fun police - 5

The next week came, but as soon as Emily arrived, someone in her office was waiting to meet with her. Then that meeting ran into another meeting somewhere else in the building. And another meeting turned into another– so many meetings that she hadn’t even been in her office for more than 10 minutes. So when Y/n found the sticky note pressed against her office door asking to reschedule for later that evening she was pleasantly surprised. It seemed their last session may have had a more positive influence than she had anticipated. Not only was the older woman taking the initiative to reschedule but she was also willing to meet outside of the typical office job hours. Now if Emily was finally coming around, this was going to make her job a lot easier.

So when evening struck Y/n found herself knocking at Emily’s open doorway with a smile. “Boy, you’re one hard woman to catch.” she teased as she came to a stop in front of Emily’s desk. The older woman ran a hand through her hair and leveled Y/n with an unamused glare. “Oof, tough crowd.” Y/n winced as she watched the older woman carefully.

Emily rolled her eyes and moved to shut down her computer with a sigh, “Thank you for agreeing to meet later, I know it’s not the most convenient but I appreciate it.”

“Of course, I’m just glad you still wanted to meet today. I figured you’d take the opportunity to skip and run with it.” Y/n shrugged. “But either way with the way I imagine your day going, it might be good to have someone help you unwind before heading home for the night.”

Emily scoffs and looks at the case files piled in her inbox, “That’s if I make it home,” she mumbled before looking back to the younger woman wistfully. “But, yes. Yes, that would be very helpful.”

Y/n tsked almost instantly at Emily’s words and circled the desk. “Well that just won’t do.” Emily watched as the woman confidently reached around her body to sift through the files on her desk. “All of these can definitely wait till tomorrow. It’s not like the budget for the next five years is going to implode if you don’t finish it tonight.”

Emily swatted at the younger woman’s hands as she tried to pull the file closer to herself, “That’s confidential.” The older woman pushed the files further up her desk and turned her chair to face Y/n directly. The proximity of their bodies dawned on Emily a little too late. And as quickly as she registered it, it’s all she could think about. Still sitting in her desk chair, her eyes were level with the wellness counselor’s hips and she fought hard to move her eyes to a more appropriate place. But the further her eyes rose, the more distracted she became. Her mouth dried and the heat seemed to kick in and her hands subconsciously pulled her collar away from her neck. Y/n’s hands came down in Emily’s peripheral and settled on her hips. And if Emily was looking at her face, she’s positive she could see the attitude working it’s way across her forehead. After three sessions, observing the younger woman around the office, and all she’d heard from the team– she knew a witty quip was coming her way. With that in mind, she finally settled her eyes on Y/n’s face. Furrowed eyebrows and quirked lips. She kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes and gazed down at Emily.

“Bold of you to assume that would have any effect on me. So what if I see a bunch of nonsensical numbers, what would I even do with that?”

“Well it should,” Emily grumbled. “This is the FBI after all.”

“It’s not like you’d turn me in.” Y/n challenged bending at the waist to bring her eyes level with Emily’s. “You won’t admit it, but you like me far too much to do that.”

“Well that’s absurd. And bold of you to believe.”

“Well, yes. Bold and correct.”

Emily glared and moved to respond but her desk phone ringing had her clamping her mouth shut. She held a finger up and answered the call and she could see Y/n heading to sit on the couch with her arms crossed. As soon as the receiver was back on the hook Y/n was reprimanding.

“See this is your problem— why are you answering your phone after hours? Who could possibly want something from you right now?”

Emily’s cheeks blazed under the scrutiny but she rolled her shoulders back and tried to speak confidently, “That was Gary from the lobby. I figured the least I could do after holding you hostage tonight would be to buy you dinner.”

“Huh,” Y/n sounded, resting on her knees thoughtfully.“How kind of you Agent Prentiss.” The younger woman replied fighting down the urge to giggle nervously as her cheeks reddened.

“Well thank you for dinner, that was very sweet of you.” Y/n smiled at Emily as they walked through the parking garage. Emily nodded and rubbed at the nape of her neck self-consciously. This session had definitely been different from her others and as they came to a halt in front of a car Emily couldn’t ignore how romantic the night was feeling.

“Of course, it’s the least I could do after keeping you here well past your typical hours.”

“Well I appreciate it,” Y/n said, sweeping her eyes over the older woman to assess her. “And despite the bickering in the beginning, I feel like this session was a successful one for us.”

Emily scoffed, “And how’d you get that?”

“Well I got you out of the door for the night, didn’t I? Keep this up and you might even get to move to bi-weekly meetings or maybe even monthly!” y/n smirked triumphantly.

“Yeah yeah yeah, you got lucky.” Emily rebuffed with a roll of her eyes. She fought the frown that started to take form at the mention of less sessions. Had she really changed enough that Y/n thought she didn’t need the weekly session?

“Well maybe I should go buy a lottery ticket then,” Y/n teased Emily, frowning all the same. She leaned closer, placing her hand on the outside of Emily’s arm. She squeezed at her bicep softly and let her hand trail her arm before stepping toward her car. “Alright, I’ll leave you be. Thank you again and Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Emily watched as the younger woman disappeared behind the wheel of her car and then turned to climb into her own vehicle. Her arm was tingling beneath her coat and her eyes were trained on the car across the lot. And as the car left she still sat. And suddenly the urge to be bad at wellness seemed oddly appealing.

#emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss #fun police #msschemmenti

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the-badger-mole · 1 month ago

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How would you write Azula’s story after the war?

Oooo! I actually have written an outline for Azula's post canon arc a few years ago, but because Tumblr would rather spend time and money on stupid failure projects like that Live nonsense instead of something actually helpful like making the archive less annoying to use, I can't be bothered to find it. So, I'll write it here again. It'll probably be a bit different because I think I may have changed my mind on a few things since the first version of this. If anyone finds the original, leave a note, so it'll show up in my activity feed. Also, disclaimer, this is only one version of an Azula redemption that I've thought up, and this is how I see this particular circumstance going. I have other ideas.

So, after the war, Azula goes to the mental health hospital for her breakdown. She hates it, and she hates being there, and the hates all the people trying to change her because there is noting wrong with her. In the end, the doctors agree. There is nothing wrong with her that they can help with, so they let Zuko know that she is fit to stand whatever trial he wants to have for her.

That leaves Zuko in a tough spot. Azula really hasn't changed at all, and she makes it clear that she thinks it should be her on the throne instead of her brother. He can't let her go, because there are such extreme reactions to her. On the one hand the general public hates her. To them, she represents the same things Ozai did; a greed for power at whatever cost to the people she deems expendable. On the other hand, she has a decent amount of support among Ozai loyalists for the same reason (Ozai is probably dead by now, btw. Executed by an international tribunal. Aang was pissed. It was a whole thing). He can't keep her in the palace because there is a very real possibility that she will try to assassinate him, or challenge him to another Agni Kai, and Zuko would actually have to kill her this time. So, he exiles her. It was either that, or prison.

Azula end up on one of the smaller, more remote islands in the Fire Nation archipelago. There is a very small community there of locals. Azula is appointed a modest, but comfortable home, and a team of servants who are there to both make her comfortable and make sure she doesn't get up to anything. It pisses Azula off more than if Zuko had just put her in prison. There is no way off the island. No one has anything larger than a fishing boat, and ships only come a few times a year to deliver supplies. The locals are far enough removed from the Fire Nation capital that the fact that Azula is nobility is a curiosity more than anything. There are no loyal subjects among them, though, to Azula's disgust, they think Zuko's doing an alright job (the other Fire Lords either ignored them, or made their lives miserable. Zuko actually seems to be...trying to get to know them?).

There is no one who cares enough to join up with Azula to take him down. No one awe inspired enough to make her their de facto ruler. And despite the fact that Azula is the most powerful firebender on the island, by far, she is out numbered. A fact that was made clear after she attacked and killed one of her guards (who was a local son), and the entire town converged wanting to kill her. She was only spared because her guards from the capital held the line long enough for the governor of the island to be notified and pull up with reinforcements. Azula can't go any farther than the garden behind her house for almost two years for her own protection.

Eventually, when Azula is allowed to move more freely (though still heavily guarded), she treats the locals like they are beneath her, which does her no favors. The more she puts on airs, the less people respect her, including her own prison guards servants. This is a problem for Azula. She's used to manipulating either by fear, or by playing to people's egos. No one fears her on that island, and no one's ego is touched by what she offers. She's a tiger that's been defanged and declawed. Alone.

Sometime around her fifth year in exile, she is assigned a new maid after she ran off a four of them. This new maid is a middle aged war vet with a smoking habit and a limp. She has no respect for titles and airs, and while she does her job well, she also will not put up with Azula's attitude for long. She will go barb for barb against Azula, and when Azula snaps and starts throwing things and firebending at her, the maid makes fun of her for having a tantrum. Azula tries to fire her several times, but each time, the maid reminds her that she works for Zuko, which only pisses Azula off more. Eventually, Azula realizes that she can't scare this maid off, and she grudgingly accepts her presence. They don't become friends right away, but Azula does come to respect the way the maid doesn't back down from her. Any time Azula snaps at her, the maid snaps right back. After a while, their relationship does grow into something like what Zuko had with Iroh, and the maid gets Azula into gardening.

On the island is the ne'er-do-well youngest son of a lesser noble who is in something like exile himself. He didn't hurt anyone, but he had several substance abuse issues that caused his family a lot of embarrassment. His parents sent him to the island to either clean up, or drink himself to death. He'd been on the island for several years before Azula was sent, but they don't meet until several years after she arrived. He is what Mai probably would've been if Azula hadn't become friends with her as children. He's snarky, lazy, and a bit eccentric. He is annoyed with his parents for sending him to this island, but he also acknowledges that he probably wouldn't be doing much if he hadn't been. Only, there would be more parties. He and Azula have something like a friendship, and they do help each other grow. Not much. He drinks a bit less with her, and she becomes less aggressively power hungry, but they are united in hating the island and the people who sent them there. I haven't decided if this turns into a romance or not, but they do become close.

Between him and the maid, Azula has the opportunity to vent like she hasn't had before. Eventually, she does come to realize that she no longer wants power like she did before. She finally admits what she never dared before and tells her new friends that she hated Ozai towards the end. She complains about her mother, too, but on getting more details, the maid realizes that Ursa was a good mother doing her best with a child who didn't respect her. That shakes Azula, and even though it takes a long time, she does come to peace with her mother's memory.

Zuko visits the island at least once a year. That's when he gets to know the people on the island and what they need from him as a ruler. He becomes pretty well liked among them, which helps smooth some of the rougher feelings towards Azula over time. Especially since he often brings his wife, with her healing hands and informal, downright manners, with him. Azula refuses to see him for the first few years (almost a decade). Zuko respects that, though he does try to visit whenever he's on the island. Then one year, she does agree to have tea with him. They sit together in silence for an hour before Azula unceremoniously ends the visit. Zuko begins writing to her after that. Just short letters about the weather, and startlingly, his children. That's how she finds out she's an aunt of four, with one more on the way. She finds out through gossip that her brother married the Avatar's waterbender, and the maid laughs at her for not knowing. It was big news when they started dating, over a decade ago. Bigger news when their engagement was announced, the entire country was holding it's breath when they had their first child, and the parents refused to tell anyone if the kid was a firebender or not for the first three years of their life. Azula missed it all. The next time Zuko visits, they have tea again, and this time they talk for an hour before Azula ends the visit.

Azula is surprised to find that she doesn't hate her brother anymore. She did for a long time. Especially after their Agni Kai. She doesn't feel much of anything towards him anymore. Not hate. Not affection. Just a bit of curiosity to see how he's turned out, and what kind of ruler he is. She knows that the people on her little island are beginning to like him a lot. More than they like any politician, anyway (though that bar is pretty low). A few of them even love Katara (mostly the very young ones). Their teas when he visits gradually get longer. Zuko still clearly cares about Azula, and they do build up something of a friendly relationship. Zuko never brings his family, and Azula never asks to see them. It works for them that way.

In the meantime, Azula loosens up to the people on the island, and by the time she's approaching 40, she's become one of them. She and her other exile friend are something of oddities among the locals, but they like her well enough now. A few of them have even had the honor of being welcomed into her home, or of being gifted herbs from her garden. Some of the local children even come by to hear stories of her days in the palace and of her brother, the Fire Lord who saved the nation. She tells them very embarrassing stories of Zuko's childhood. One day, Azula realizes, with no small amount of surprise, that she likes her life, and the people in it. Even loves a few of them. Her maid is elderly by now, but she hasn't been replaced, even though Azula serves her more often than not. Azula and her fellow exile, if they are not actually in love, are at least platonic life mates. She doesn't have children- doesn't want children- but she cares about some of the local ones -the braver ones- like her own. They would never call her auntie (too her face), but they love her, too.

This is the quiet redemption arc for Azula. Now that I type it out, I realize, it kind of reminds me of a mix of Hester Prynne and Mary Lennox

#atla #azula #azula's redemption #i think her maid is my favorite

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yuurei20 · 2 months ago

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Lilia Facts Part 26: Lilia and Floyd

Lilia vetoes Trey and Vil as potential younger brothers for being too low-maintenance, to the point of being boring: “I doubt they'd do anything too nonsensical. That makes them predictable, and where's the fun in that? Wouldn't you rather have someone who defies your expectations?”

Lilia ultimately chooses Floyd.

Ortho points out that, based on that logic, Jade may also fit his criteria, but Lilia says that Jade likes being subtle and indirect whereas Floyd is quick to challenge those whose strength he recognizes, and he appreciates that straightforwardness.

Lilia says, “With (Floyd), I'd have no trouble engaging in the kind of communication done most effectively through brawling.”

Lilia approaches Floyd about teaming up during the Stitch event, saying, “You impressed me yesterday with that campfire you built and the music you played. I suspect we'd have much fun together.”

Floyd agrees to join him but Azul and Riddle forbid it despite Lilia assuring them that they don’t have to envy his and Floyd’s friendship: “I belong to everyone!”

During Beanfest Floyd pretends to be a team player in for a shot at confronting Lilia, saying that Lilia has “gotta be the most fun to squeeze outta anybody."

Floyd ultimately gets his wish, successfully capturing Lilia.

Lilia observes, “There's no greater time for caution than in one's moment of triumph,” in a sentiment that its repeated in Book 7.

Floyd says he noticed Lilia was completely unsurprised by Epel’s sudden attack (“Haven't you ever heard that actin' surprised is good manners?”) and Lilia says he can hardly believe that someone as young as Floyd had the patience to wait for just the right moment.

Though Floyd was able to catch Lilia by surprise during Beanfest and Lilia has a long track record of surprising other people, it is possible that we have never seen Lilia surprise Floyd.

At Lilia’s farewell party Floyd says that they’ve barely said to words to each other outside of school events, but he had been hoping they’d be able to have “an epic throwdown someday” based on Silver telling him how strong Lilia is.

Lilia says he is also disappointed he “couldn't put a cheeky underclassman in his place” and Floyd lets the comment slide, as Lilia is his senpai and it is his last day at the school.

#twstlilia #Liliafacts #Lilia Vanrouge #twstfacts #twisted wonderland

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joelalorian · 7 months ago

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Fevered Flame

Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Summary: When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Theresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

This fic is my contribution to @iamasaddie's Little Lady Kinky May writing challenge. Prompts were Marcus Pike and Temperature. This is my first time writing Marcus Pike and I hope I did him justice. I learned a few things about myself during this process, the most important being that I am incapable of writing porn without plot, or a romantic angle, apparently. This story turned out waaaaay different than intended because of that. I apologize now for the plot heaviness between sexy bits.

WC: 10.4k – I’m sorry, I have no idea where all these words came from

Warnings: Explicit 18+, too much plot, heat making people cray cray, sexy sweatiness, lots of cursing (I’m from New Jersey, I can’t help it), nonsensical crime stuff, a plot that came straight outta left field, protected and unprotected sex (p in v), pussy eating and cock sucking, inappropriate use of an ice cube and hot springs. No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname and boobs, otherwise, I tried to keep her a blank slate. Some terms of endearment. IDK, there’s probably more but I can’t think right now.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this utter ridiculousness. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Moodboard by me.

Masterlist

Still reeling from the aftermath of Theresa Lisbon choosing that pontificating windbag Patrick Jane over him nearly a year ago, Marcus Pike buried himself in work. The transition from Texas to DC and adapting to leading a whole new team took his mind of his misery. However, the lonely nights in his new home, the one purchased with hopes of building a life with Theresa in mind, were untenable and he took on more fieldwork than someone at the director level typically would. Hence why Marcus found himself driving through the desert to some quirky small town in New Mexico called Truth or Consequences.

What the fuck kind of name was that for a town, he wondered idly as his right hand pumped the rental car’s AC to full blast. Having already stripped off his suit jacket and tie, Marcus sweat clear through his lavender dress shirt within minutes. The heat was ungodly. Surely it couldn’t be normal. How could people live like that?

Eyes scanning the dashboard display of the mid-size SUV the agency rented for him, they nearly bugged out of his head at the temperature reading. Lit up in glaring red, the numbers 121°F taunted him as sweat dripped down his temples.

Jesus Christ. Death Valley had nothing on this place.

Marcus steered the vehicle toward his hotel, opting to change into something a little more suitable for the local climate before checking in with the agent representing the local field office. The FBI put him up in a supposedly nice hotel, though he didn’t have high expectations of what that meant in a town like this. As long as the AC worked, he’d survive.

Thirty minutes later, Marcus took his second shower of the day, this one much colder than the last, and jumped back into the SUV in an outfit more typical of a golf outing than an FBI investigation. It was the best he could do with what he packed. The local agent texted him the address of an art gallery, the first in a series of apparent crime scenes, and he plugged the address into the GPS.

Normally, you didn’t mind the heat, preferring that to cold winters, but this current heatwave was beyond ridiculous. You sweat just by simply existing. You never experienced anything like it in the five years you’d been stationed in Albuquerque, and you suddenly found yourself longing for the bone-deep cold of a northeastern winter as you waited for the DC agent to arrive.

The chilling sea breeze of a New Jersey winter sounded like heaven right now.

A sleek silver SUV pulled up next to your government-issued sedan and you watched with an assessing gaze from the driver’s seat as Director Marcus Pike exited the vehicle clad in khaki shorts and a turquoise polo, trendy aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes from the glare of the desert sun. His dark brown hair was short and styled back off his forehead, and a neatly trimmed scruff lined his top lip and jaw.

You knew from a quick glance at his FBI profile that he was a decorated agent, but his government photo did not do him justice. The man was fucking gorgeous in person. Exiting your own vehicle before he caught you staring, you introduced yourself.

He flashed you a smile full of boyish charm when you gave him your name, causing your heart to thump double time. “You can just call me Jersey, everyone else does,” you finished, holding your hand out to shake his.

“Marcus Pike, Director of the Art Crimes Squad in DC,” he replied, his larger hand engulfing yours in a firm, yet not overbearing, shake. “Just call me Marcus.”

The two of you gazed at each other, the sun beating down on you both like laser beams. Holy fuck, Marcus was even hotter up close. Yeah, his FBI file photo did not do him any justice at all. Not wanting to make things uncomfortable by staring too long, you gestured toward the door to the gallery.

“Shall we?”

Marcus cleared his throat and nodded, following behind you as you strolled casually through the entrance. “Wanna give me a rundown of what we know so far?”

“Sure,” you replied. “We’ve had paintings stolen from several galleries in town. Despite its odd name and small-town status, Truth or Consequences has a rather robust art scene. Lots of expensive art showcased in these galleries.”

Marcus nodded as you gave him some background. He likely read most of this in the file on his flight out here, but you could appreciate the necessity of running over it again verbally. Repetition was the mother of… whatever the fuck that saying was. Your brain was already too fried from the heat.

“The thefts started almost a week ago, not too long after the start of the extreme heatwave this area is currently experiencing. There has been one painting taken every other day so far, always at the peak heat of the day when the townsfolk are too overheated and tired to pay much attention. No eyewitnesses and the thief artfully avoided any surveillance or security cameras so far.”

You watched Marcus jot down some notes, tapping the end of his pen against the small notepad as he reviewed the information.

“So, three paintings taken so far, and it’s still early in the day. I’m guessing we can expect another theft today?” You nodded and Marcus tapped the pen against his bottom lip this time, causing you to avert your gaze before he caught you ogling the plump flesh.

“Have there been any patterns identified?”

You could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Just in the types of paintings taken so far. They all depict scenes of cool, serene landscapes.”

Dark brown eyes held your gaze. “So, the exact opposite of the current weather situation.”

Again, you nodded. “That’s the only pattern so far. We haven’t been able to determine any order to the galleries hit and, unfortunately, this town doesn’t have the law enforcement manpower to guard all of the galleries and still attend to their normal duties. We do have unis posted at the galleries that haven’t been hit yet, just in case. That’s the best the townies could do though.”

Humming in thought, Marcus walked around the gallery, causing you to scramble to keep up. It was fascinating watching his mind work, his big, brown eyes taking in every minute detail around him. When he stopped in front of the empty spot marking the first stolen painting’s former home, you paused next to him, debating on sharing the only other piece of information you had so far.

“There’s, uh, something strange that may or may not be related to this case.” That got Marcus’ attention and his eyes shot to you once again, brow arched curiously.

“Do tell,” he replied with an encouraging smile. You blinked slowly, trying in vain to maintain your concentration in front of such a handsome man.

“I will on the way to the other galleries. Just… just promise to hold judgment until I finish telling you everything. It’s a little… unorthodox compared to what we’re used, I’d say.” You led the way back to your car, gesturing for Marcus to get in on the passenger side. It made more sense to ride together. Thankfully, you left it running while inside the gallery, making the interior still nice and cool.

Once seated, his head cocked to the side endearingly, the tilt of his lips bordering on an indulgent smile. “Ok, I promise.” The cadence and depth of his soft-spoken voice set you aflame and you had to practically shake yourself to not fall to your knees in praise of this man.

Jesus Christ, Jersey, have a modicum of professionalism and self-respect, will ya, your inner monologue chided. Your libido hyperfixated on the veritable stud before you whether you wanted it to or not. It’d been too long since your last tumble in the sheets, apparently. Recentering your focus, you pulled out onto the main road heading to the next crime scene.

“Good,” you croaked. Feeling the heat creep up your already overheated flesh, you cleared your throat. “I’m sure you can tell, the weather here is ungodly hot – hard to miss it. This is not entirely normal, from what I understand. It’s tempting to chalk it up to climate change, except for one strange thing. Drive twenty or thirty minutes outside of town and the temps are far lower, though still hot by some standards. The temps within the surrounding towns are in line with the more normal averages.”

Brows furrowed, Marcus’ dark eyes searched your face, clearly looking for more context clues. “The heat certainly seemed excessive on the ride over from the municipal airport. I had to stop at the hotel and change or I would have melted to the pavement in my suit.”

You chuckled. “I know the feeling. The average temperature here is supposed to be in the low 90s this time of year, not thirty degrees higher. And the usually cooler desert nights haven’t existed for the past couple of weeks. It’s very strange.”

“And it’s just this town, you say?”

Pulling to a stop in front of the next gallery, you nodded. “Strange, right?”

“Very,” Marcus replied, deep in thought as he followed you inside.

It carried on like that the rest of the afternoon until the heat became just too much after checking out the last crime scene. Like everyone else in town, you sought refuge in the coolest place you could find, which happened to be a hole-in-the-wall pub just off the main street.

Just when Marcus thought things couldn’t get weirder with this town, you led him into a dark and dingy little pub, settling right up to the aged bar. If you weren’t a certified agency employee, he would be terrified that you were luring him to his untimely death.

As it was, the scraggly old barkeep gave him the creeps when he shuffled over, eyeing the pair of you with the same attention he would three-headed aliens. “Coldest beer in town. Two pints?” The man’s voice as rough as he looked, he didn’t wait for an answer.

Marcus shot you a look, eyes wide and uncertain, but you merely shrugged in return. He didn’t normally drink on the job, but between the heat and the early start for traveling, Marcus decided his day was finished. He chugged at the frosty draft when the barkeep placed it in front of him. The old man was right, the pint glass was frozen and small chunks of ice floated in the foamy beer.

“Damn, that’s good,” he nearly moaned, feeling refreshed.

“I know, right?” you replied, nearly half done with your own pint. “I don’t normally like beer, but I could drink it all day long when it’s ice cold like this. Especially in this heat, you know?”

The first round went down easily, and quickly, and the old barkeep, whose name turned out to be Harry, placed another round down before Marcus even thought to ask. The pair of you settled into easy conversation, getting to know each other outside of the job. The more you drank, the more your Jersey accent started to peak through. He found it cute and kept asking you questions just to keep hearing you talk.

Soon enough, any thought left in his mind about Theresa evaporated. How could he still think about his ex-fiancé when a hot, smart, sweet little thing like you sat before him, chatting, and flirting away the evening. Theresa had nothing on you.

It took exactly a fraction of a second to be struck by your beauty that morning. Confident and intelligent, not mention damn good at your job, he quickly realized your natural beauty served as icing on the cake. You were the entire package, and he was trying his damnedest to not charge ahead trying to get you into bed.

Turned out you both had similar relationship history, married too young and divorced, no kids, longed for a dog if only your job didn’t call you away so often. You were practically the female version of him, Marcus thought. It made him all the more curious about you.

Before long, you both ordered some bar grub and went back to talking about the case. Neither of you could make sense of what you had so far. There were vital pieces of the puzzle missing, that much was apparent.

Harry unceremoniously dropped plates full of burgers and fries in front of you, not even trying to hide the fact that he eavesdropped on your conversation.

“You think your case has something to do with the heat?” the old man questioned, leaning heavily on the bar top.

You and Marcus shared a look before you nodded.

“There’s some local lore you might find interesting, then,” Harry said, pausing for dramatic effect and you gestured for him to continue. “Well, as the legends go, the Flame of Quetzalcoatl was hidden somewhere in town centuries ago. They say it was a gem gifted by the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl himself, but who the recipient was no one knows. The gem is said to hold the power of the sun and the wielder of it has the ability to control heat.”

You and Marcus sat there in silence, absorbing the tale Harry just shared. After a few minutes, Marcus glanced at you, doubt clear in his expression.

“This town just gets fuckin’ weirder by the minute, I swear,” he said, sipping at his pint once again. “I might actually believe that little story if I was a few more beers in.”

You laughed, but your face didn’t hold the same doubt as his. “I don’t know, Marcus. If living out here for the past few years has taught me anything, it’s that these Aztec legends are often too close to the truth to blow off.”

Harry harrumphed. “I’d say so, little lady.”

“Besides, it’s the best we’ve got right now,” you said, nudging Marcus’ shoulder with yours. “Couldn’t hurt to play that angle until a better lead pops up.”

Marcus found himself agreeing, much to his surprise.

Over the next few days, you and Marcus researched as much as possible about local lore related to Aztecs, searching for any hint of what Harry told you. In that time, three more paintings were stolen. The thief started leaving little clues as if to goad law enforcement.

The first cryptic clue further convinced you of the potential voracity of the Aztec legend. Written in drip red paint in the spot where the fourth painting had been located, Marcus suspected the thief meant it to look like blood.

When the feathered serpent sheds its skin, the heat will rise.

“Holy shit,” you gasped when you first read it. Turning to Marcus, you declared, “Quetzalcoatl was known as the Feathered Serpent.”

His dark brown eyes widened, meeting yours in shock. “No way.”

You nodded, flipping through your notepad to find your most recent notes on the case. “Yes way. That book we borrowed from the Historical Society talked about it. Remember?”

Marcus nodded slowly as the information came back to him, his eyes searching yours, trying to make sense of this completely bizarre case. “Didn’t the book say something about Quetzalcoatl being a signal of transformation? Think the clue has something to do with that?”

“Yeah, could be.”

The pattern continued the next day with another clue left behind.

Where the earth boils and the water steams, the gem of the sun awaits.

The pair of you debated the meaning of the second clue over cold beer at Harry’s pub. As the case evolved, so did the connection between you and Marcus. You both flirted unashamedly when you weren’t talking about the case. It turned out the agency put you both up at the same hotel – your rooms on the same floor even. You were beginning to hope that he would make a move, yet completely terrified of that happening at the same time.

Despite your best efforts, the thief remained one step ahead of law enforcement, somehow managing to steal from galleries you had actively guarded. How in the world was this guy doing it?

Things were slowly coming together once a third clue was discovered.

Seek the place where fire and water dance, and there you will find the sun’s heart.

Without a local FBI office to work out of – the Albuquerque one you worked out of was over two hours away – you’d decided to setup camp in a quiet booth at Harry’s. He kept you full on pub grub and refreshments – soda and water during work hours, of course – and chipped in with his local knowledge whenever he thought it needed.

In fact, it was Harry who guided you toward understanding the latest clues.

“Have you two heard about the hot springs? This town is famous for them.” The old man dropped the nugget of knowledge along with a plate of fries and shuffled away, leaving the two of you to stare after him.

Marcus turned to you; his lips pursed in thought. You ached to nibble on the plump flesh of his bottom lip, to feel the gentle scratch of his facial hair against your soft skin as you did so.

“Where the earth boils and the water streams,” Marcus recalled the second clue in that delicious, soft-spoken voice of his, sending a wave of gooseflesh over your skin. “Seek the place where fire and water dance.”

Shaking your head free of naughty thoughts, you focused on the clues and the knowledge bomb Harry dropped, picking right up on Marcus’ thought process. “Fire, heat, and water... The hot springs!”

Marcus beamed at you; eyes sparkling as he came to the same realization. “It has to be. Makes sense, right?”

“Sure does,” you agreed, grinning back at him. “But there must be a ton of them. How would we ever find the right one?”

Sitting back in his seat, Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll have to keep digging. Do you still have that book from the Historical Society? Maybe there’s something else in there to help us.”

“It’s back in my room,” you reply. “Fancy ordering room service at the hotel while we go over the clues again?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What was he thinking, agreeing to go back to your room to continue working on the case.

An unwitting temptress already, how was he supposed to control himself when you invited him into your room for dinner, drinks, and after-hours casework?

In the already excessive desert heat, Marcus was sweating bullets as he followed you into your room, conveniently located only a few doors down from his own.

“I have a bottle of cab, is that good?” you questioned, kicking off your shoes with a sigh before reaching for the screw cap bottle.

Audibly gulping, Marcus squeaked out an assent and wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts. He glanced around the room to distract himself, noting happily that you were a tidy traveler, much like himself.

“I have bottled water as well. Would you like one?” Marcus nodded. With an indulgent smile, you held out the small ice bucket. “I like mine over ice. Would you mind?”

Eager for a moment to clear his head, Marcus grabbed the bucket. “No problem.” The echo of your chuckle followed him as he rushed out the door.

“What is wrong with you, dude?” he whispered to himself as he strolled down the hall to the ice machine. “You don’t even know if this woman wants anything more than just reviewing the case. Calm the fuck down.”

Feeling a little calmer and more under control after his private pep talk, Marcus knocked on your door with the full ice bucket in hand. You let him in with a broad smile that nearly made his heart stop.

“Perfect.” Plucking the bucket from his hands, you returned to the makeshift kitchenette area to fill two cups with ice and water. Two glasses of cabernet were already sitting on the tiny table in the small designated sitting area of the hotel room.

Marcus joined you on the couch, case file in hand, seated close due to the limited space. You dove right in to discussing the case, easing his nerves. The pair of you compared the facts of the case, debating theories and potential connections. Without any physical evidence, you still didn’t have any viable suspects, which was incredibly frustrating for both of you.

“I’ve never had a case like this,” Marcus said. “It’s hard to believe that this could all relate to a myth about an ancient god. It feels weird even saying that aloud.”

“I know. It’s giving me Twilight Zone vibes.”

With the lack of viable suspects serving as a brick wall in furthering the investigation, conversation switched to other topics.

“You’re from New Jersey?” Marcus asked. “What brought you out here?”

“Yep, born and raised at the Jersey Shore,” you replied, that northeastern accent peeking through as you drank more wine. “Classic reason for relocating – I followed a guy, the one I told you a little about. We got married young and one day he woke up and decided he wanted a change of scenery. I followed along without argument, and we wound up out here. Biggest mistake of my life.”

“Ahh,” he said with a nod. “That asshole.”

“Yeah, that asshole.”

From what you told Marcus about your ex-husband, he knew the guy was a real piece of work. Classic narcissist who beat you down emotionally the entire time you were together. Marcus was happy that you kicked the guy to the curb two years ago and the divorce finalized last year. No one deserved to be treated like that, especially you.

“Are you going to stick around here now that’s all over with?” He found himself curious about your future plans.

Shaking your head, you laughed. “Hell no. I put in for a transfer already, for anywhere on the east coast closer to home. I’m no picky.”

Marcus perked up at that. The DC headquarters always had openings. He’d get to see you again if you were transferred there. “I could put in a good word for you, if you’d like. You’re a great agent from what I’ve seen so far.”

Ducking your head bashfully, you peeked at him through your lashes. “That’s pretty high praise coming from a director,” you deflected.

“I mean it, Jersey.” He kept his voice low, using your nickname for the first time, and watched in delight as you shuddered.

The air in the room shifted, sexual tension thick and nearly overpowering. Marcus watched as your pupils dilated, lust overtaking the previous sparkle. He gulped when your tongue darted out to lick your lips tantalizingly.

Shifting ever so closer, your scent washed over him. You smelled fucking delicious, hints of cocoa butter and salty sweat, reminding him of the beach. His shorts suddenly became tighter, his cock twitching to life. He wanted to devour you.

The next thing Marcus knew, your lips were pressed to his as you basically ripped the clothes from each other’s bodies, the now empty bottle of wine knocked from the table to the carpeted floor in the process. Despite the cool air pumping from the air conditioning, your skin felt hot to his touch.

Licking into your mouth, savoring the taste of you mixed with the bite of wine on your tongue, Marcus steered you backwards until your hamstrings bumped against the mattress. He eased you down onto the bed, detaching his lips from yours to take in the electrifying sight of your naked body splayed before him.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his fingertips tracing down your smooth skin slowly, teasingly from your neck to your toes.

Your eyes, blown wide with need, burned into his before dipping down to take in his naked body with a gasp. His cock bobbed eagerly as you stared.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Marcus said, his soft voice filled with awe, matching the wonder in his eyes.

“Me either,” you replied, “but I’m happy it is. You are so fucking gorgeous, Marcus.”

Marcus couldn’t help the blush that pinkened his cheeks. Reaching behind him to the bucket, he plucked a large ice cube from the slowly melting pile. His eyes remained locked on yours as he popped the frozen cube into his mouth, sucking lightly before his tongue pushed forward and his lips puckered as a portion of the ice cube stuck out.

The breath left you when he dipped his head down to run the cube along your clavicle and down across your breasts. Your nipples pebbled beneath the chilly wetness as Marcus directed the ice cube back and forth a few times. He watched delightedly as goosebumps peppered your skin when he moved the cube down your belly in a zigzag pattern.

“Oh, fuck.” Your chest heaved and fingers tightened their grip on the bedsheets when Marcus dipped further down, running the quickly melting cube over your mound and through your slit. The cold nearly shocking to the overwhelming heat of your labia.

Using his tongue to increase the pressure, Marcus circled the ice cube over your clit until you cried out, one hand loosening its grip on the sheets to tangle your fingers in his thick hair. He shifted, plunging the cube into your entrance, pushing as far as his tongue would extend, then leant back to watch your pussy suck the cube further until in melted into mere dribbles of water.

You laid there panting, eyes hooded and wanting, as Marcus dove back in, using his tongue to continue the work he started with the ice cube. He lapped and sucked at your clit, two thick fingers slipping inside you, until you became a blubbering mess, blurting out unintelligible words and moans, finally falling apart beneath his ministrations.

Marcus slurped at the evidence of your long overdue release, savoring the sweet, tangy taste of you. His hips thrust against the mattress of their own accord, his body seeking any sort of friction against his aching cock it could find.

“Your mouth is a lethal weapon, Marcus,” you said breathlessly, hands reaching under his shoulders to drag him up your body. “Now let’s see what you can do with your cock.”

His hair flopped forward over his forehead from your fingers tangling in it and he grinned in satisfaction at your comment. His boyish charm proved too much to handle, and you yanked his face down to yours, tongues tangling in a scorching kiss. You nibbled on his plump bottom lip between fervent kisses, savoring the plushness between your teeth.

Whining when he pulled away suddenly, your fingers grasping for purchase to pull him back, Marcus winked at you when he slid off the bed. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m coming right back.”

Digging in his shorts to find his wallet, Marcus pulled out a long-forgotten condom from the tri-fold leather and checked the date on the foil packaging to make sure it hadn’t expired. Content with the remaining half-life, he ripped the package open with his teeth and slid the latex material over his cock.

You beamed at him when he climbed back onto the bed. “I knew you were a smart man.”

Marcus slid up beside your body, turning you so your back pressed snug against his chest. “Safety first, baby. Wrap it before you tap it, right?”

Your laughter became strangled when he slid inside you, splitting you open on his cock. “Oh my god. You feel so good!” you cried when he began to move inside you after a long pause to let you adjust to the sheer size of him.

Marcus started at a slow pace, getting a feel for the way your walls tightened around him. Gripping the bed covers with your right hand, you reached your left hand up and around to tangle in his hair behind you. He picked up the pace as you tugged gently on his locks, his lips peppering your neck with soft, wet kisses.

When, at last, Marcus began pounding into you, you reached between your legs with your right hand to rub your clit. Despite the cool air blowing over your bodies, the heat between you had your skin glistening with sweat. You cried as Marcus hit a particularly pleasurable spot deep within you, his own moans morphing into grunts as you clamped down on him.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight around me. I can feel you clench every time I hit this spot.” His words were murmured into your ear, barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin. Marcus plunged forward to hit your g-spot, proving his point when you clenched tightly around him once again. “Yeah, just like that.”

You plunged clear over the precipice then, crying out his name and any number of praises as an orgasm overtook you. Marcus talked you through it, his voice like sugary syrup, while he never once let up on his thrusts. Minutes, hours later, he followed you into the overwhelming bliss with a shout of your name followed by a string of curses.

“That was amazing.” Marcus nuzzled your neck as his hips slowed, the last shots of his cum dribbling into the condom. “You are amazing.”

Lost for words, you just hummed in agreement. Knackered from the excessive heat, long day of investigative work, the alcohol, and the mind-blowing sex, you hovered on the edge of sleep while Marcus got up to dispose of the condom. He returned with a wet cloth and cleaned you up with tender dedication. Tossing the cloth aside, he paused, standing naked and uncertain next to the bed.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” you replied sleepily, tossing the covers down so you could both slide under them. “I hope you like to cuddle, Mister.”

Grinning at you, Marcus wrapped his arm around you, curving his body around yours. “You bet your ass I do.”

You both fell into an exhausted sleep feeling hopeful and satiated for the first time in a long time.

Waking up in Director Pike’s arms was not something you expected would happen on this case. You fantasized. You hoped. Sure, all of that. But you never, ever expected it would actually happen. But it did and it felt fucking incredible.

You already knew he was damn good at his job. It was impressive to see that his single-minded focus and massive talent carried over to his skills in the bedroom as well. You replayed the night before in your head as you showered, remembering with fondness all the ways Marcus surprised you, how cherished he made you feel, the sheer pleasure he brought you.

How were you supposed to focus on the case now when your mind was completely overcome with thoughts of Marcus. You were almost relieved when he slipped out of the room after sharing a cup of hotel room coffee with you. You weren’t sure you could keep your hands to yourself if he stayed much longer, the rumbled, sleepy look proving almost too adorable to resist.

Marcus met you in the hotel lobby, two large cups of iced coffee and a brown paper bag clutched in his hands an hour after waking up together. “Good morning, Jersey girl,” he greeted you with a wink, dark brown eyes sparkling in the soft morning light filtering through the windows.

You chuckled at the variation of your nickname, already knowing that would become his signature endearment for you. “Good morning, handsome. Long time, no see.”

His grin grew wider. “Come on. Let’s ride together. No sense in taking two cars anymore.” He handed you one of the iced coffees and the paper bag, pulling the keys to his SUV out of his pocket.

Clad in gray cargo shorts, blush polo shirt, and a pair of boat shoes, Marcus looked ready for a day spent on the water rather than investigating art theft. The sight made your mouth water and you gulped at the iced coffee. As he drove, you both munched on the bagels he picked up along with the coffees while waiting for you.

“I figured we’d start taking a look at some of these hot springs to get a feel for them and see if anything else in the clues pops out at us,” Marcus explained between bites. He always chewed with his mouth closed and waited until after he swallowed to speak. You loved a man with impeccably manners.

“Great idea. I put a list of them in the file.”

“I know,” he beamed at you. “I saw it last night, before… It’s what gave me the idea. Thought we’d start with La Paloma and work our way down the list. What do you think?”

You nodded, sitting back in the passenger seat contentedly. Much to your surprise, there wasn’t an ounce of awkwardness between you two after last night’s surprising turn of events. Everything felt natural, like it was meant to turn out this way and you basked in the effortless interactions between you and Marcus.

Marcus spoke to the manager upon your arrival at La Paloma Hot Springs & Spa and the gentleman gave you a quick tour of the facility before allowing the two of you to investigate on your own. You split up to cover more ground, the scent of mineral-rich water tickling your nose as you worked your way through the facility.

Searching the private soaking tubs, you ran your hands along the edges looking for evidence of hidden compartments that might contain the artifact. Still uncertain if that was what you were actually looking for, it didn’t hurt to search. When you found nothing, your focus shifted to the vintage décor including the old photographs hanging on the walls, looking for any signs or symbols that might be a clue.

An hour later, you and Marcus reconvened at the front desk, disappointed that you both came up empty, yet undeterred in your drive to figure out this case.

You visited a number of other hot springs, conducting the same kind of searches yet never finding additional clues or evidence.

“It’s like we’re missing something,” Marcus said as you both climbed into the SUV, burnt out and sweaty, after your latest search came up empty. You’d spent the entire day running from hot spring to hot spring across the small town to no avail.

“Yeah, but what could it be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not just any old hot spring? We need more to go on.”

Just then, your phone buzzed with an incoming call from the TCPD. Another painting stolen right under their noses – or rather, right behind the officer’s back as he turned around while patrolling one of the galleries. The thief had lightning-fast reflexes, apparently.

“Alright, thanks Chief. We’ll head over there now.” You ended the call and relayed the information to Marcus.

“This guy sure is brazen. I’ll give him that,” he lamented, carefully spinning the SUV around to head toward the latest crime scene.

“He’s got some balls, nicking a painting while an officer is standing right there. It’s like he’s begging to be caught.”

“That or he’s just a fucking lunatic.” Marcus met your gaze for a long moment after parking the vehicle. “Is it wrong that part of me hopes we don’t catch him too soon?”

Your heart thumped in your chest, lips quirking upwards into a shy smile. “No, not after last night…” you admitted. “We could always stay a few days after solving the case and explore this.” You gestured between the two of you.

Shutting off the car, Marcus bobbed his head. His previously styled hair fell across his forehead, the heat having worn away the product he used this morning. “I’d really like that.”

The TCPD officer met you at the door and led the way to the scene of the latest theft, his shoulders hunched in shame. “I never saw him; he was there and gone in seconds. Managed to leave this behind though, taped where the painting had been.”

Marcus accepted the paper, holding it up so you could read it.

Where the serpent bathes in earth’s warm embrace, beneath the soothing waters, the heart of the sun lies hidden.

“This message is different. Different, but the same. I mean… I don’t know what I mean,” you sighed frustratedly.

Marcus patted your shoulder in a manner appropriate for a professional audience. “No. I get what you mean. It’s tying the clues together in a different way. Giving us more hints at once.”

Heaving a sigh of your own, you nodded. What a great relief to feel understood. “Exactly.”

Conferring with the forensics team first, you and Marcus departed when they confirmed the thief left no trace evidence behind. No fibers, fingerprints, or hair. Nothing to clue you in on who the thief could be. Nothing, not even on the adhesive used to tape the clue to the wall or the paper itself. The perp was either lucky or extremely tidy.

Seated once again in the corner booth at Harry’s dingy pub, Marcus devoured his burger while you daintily nibbled at your fries. The extremely high temperature ruined your appetite. The case file sat open on the table as you placed sticky notes on a photocopy of the latest clue.

“’Where the serpent bathes’… that has to refer to the hot springs, right? And the serpent would symbolize this Quintessential guy?”

“Quetzalcoatl. The god’s name is Quetzalcoatl, for Christ’s sake,” Harry chimed in as he dropped off a fresh round of cold draft beers.

“Yeah, that guy,” you said, pointing a fry at Harry in thanks. Marcus laughed at your adorable ridiculousness. You made investigating this mind-boggling case fun.

“Right. And ‘in the earth’s warm embrace’ refers to the warm waters of the hot springs as well. That’s caused by geothermal activity, is that correct, Harry?” Marcus questioned.

The grizzled old barkeep lingered by your table, too caught up in his own curiosity to return to his duties. “Mmhmm, that’s what they say. I’m no rock scientist, mind.”

“You mean a geologist?” you chirped, a shit-eating grin gracing your pretty face.

“Yes, you mouthy little shit. Don’t sass me or I won’t help solve this case,” Harry grumbled. For a moment, Marcus worried you would be offended by the old man, but your tinkling laughter convinced him otherwise.

Marcus stifled a laugh when you rolled your eyes playfully and re-focused his attention on the clue. “That could be the earth’s warm embrace part, then. And ‘beneath the soothing waters’ refers again to the hot springs.”

“Uh huh,” Harry chimed in again, pulling the case file closer to him, aged eyes squinting to read your notes. Neither of you would normally let a civilian get so involved in a case, but Harry proved himself integral to solving this particularly challenging and unusual case. Pointing an arthritic finger to the final line of today’s clue, beneath the soothing waters, he added, “It refers to the artifact being hidden there, beneath one of the hot springs.”

Harry slipped into the booth on your side, and you flashed Marcus a smile. The old man was fully invested now. Thankfully the bar was empty but for a few regulars who could help themselves as far as Harry was concerned.

“Ok, so to summarize, we know the hot springs are involved,” you stated, processing the facts aloud as well as in your head. “And we know that the artifact is hidden beneath one of them. The question we’ve been chasing all day is which one, right? So, do any of the known hot springs have a serpent symbol or painting or something along those lines associated with it?”

Marcus shook his head as you flipped through pages of notes. “Definitely didn’t see any in the ones we checked out today.”

“Oh, for the love of all that is holy, you two idiots will be my age by the time you figure this out,” Harry stood from the booth, his voice gruff with annoyance, though whether that was from dealing with the two of you or the effort it took to stand with aged, arthritic bones was anyone’s guess. “You’ll want to check out Riverbend Hot Springs in the morning. You’re welcome.”

Mouths agape, you both watched the cantankerous old man shuffle back to the bar, grumbling to himself the whole way.

“Did he just solve the case for us?” Marcus asked when his gaze shifted back to you.

“I think so,” you laughed. “Thank fucking goodness. My eyes were starting to cross from looking at this file so much.”

Looking it up on his phone, Marcus confirmed that the Riverbend Hot Springs were closed until morning. Knowing their work was done for the day, he flashed you a heated look. “Want to go back to my room? Maybe cool off in the shower?”

Marcus had a nicer room than yours, the walk-in shower encased in glass and large enough to fit a few people. The perks of being a director, you guessed.

You barely glimpsed at the room before Marcus backed you against the already deadbolted door. His mouth pressed against yours, tongue dancing along the seam of your lips, begging for entry. You let him in eagerly, tongues tangling and teeth clashing with urgency. His hands were everywhere, stripping away your clothes and sliding against already bare skin in turn.

Once you both gave into the spark, stoking the fire into flames last night, the want turned into a blazing inferno that neither of you could extinguish. Not that you wanted to, anyway. No, you were content to burn to a crisp as the fire raged.

Marcus had you stripped naked within minutes, his mouth having never left your own in the process. Eager to return the favor from last night, you sunk to your knees, undoing his belt and shorts as you stared up at him. Marcus tore off his shirt while you shoved his shorts and boxer briefs down his slim hips to pool at his feet.

“Oh, fuck,” Marcus moaned as you wrapped your hand around his hardened length, testing the girth and weight of it in your grip. You tugged playfully a few times, getting to know the feel of him. Still staring into his lust blown eyes, you slowly leaned forward to glide the head of his cock around your plump lips before slipping him inside your mouth. A delicious whine fell from his lips when your tongue lapped at the little droplet of precum without breaking eye contact.

Not wanting to torture him unnecessarily, you began to move, taking more of his cock into your mouth until he bumped the back of your throat. Bobbing your head, you soaked his cock with your saliva, sucking every now and then to increase the sensation. Your left hand tugged the base of him where your mouth couldn’t quite reach, twisting with each upward stroke to further enhance his pleasure, as your right hand massaged his balls.

Panting heavily above you, Marcus slapped his palms against the door to support himself as you continued sucking his cock. Experimenting with how far you could take him, you hollowed your cheeks, easing farther down his length and breathed through your nose.

“Jersey girl… ungh. Please, I’m gonna come down that pretty little throat if you don’t stop.” You could feel his thigh muscles flex and twitch with the effort of not blowing his load down your throat as he stuttered out the words.

Taking pity on the man, you eased back until his cock audibly popped out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you until Marcus severed the link by stepping backwards on shaky legs.

“You are too good at that, my little minx. Come here.” Marcus helped you up, leading you into the shower once you regained your balance. He kissed you deeply as the cool water from the shower head cascaded over you both.

The water felt good on your overheated skin and Marcus pressed you backwards against the sturdy glass. Hiking a leg up around his waist with one hand, he gently cradled the side of your face in the other. Your gazes locked as he reached around your thigh and teased your clit.

“So wet for me, my Jersey girl.” Already on edge from sucking his cock, you were drenched and ready for him. “Did sucking my cock turn you on that much, my Jersey girl?” You mewled and, with the slightest shift of his hips, Marcus notched his cock at your entrance, feeding you inch by inch until your walls gripped his entire length tightly. “Fuck, you feel like heaven.”

Droplets of water rained down your bodies as he thrusted into you, your lips pressed open-mouthed against each other, noses bumping, exchanging breaths and moans without actually kissing. The stretch was intense but pleasurable, and you could feel every ridge of him inside you.

You suddenly realized why that was.

“Shit, we forgot a condom,” you said in between moans, your hands grasping his plump ass to make certain he didn’t stop.

Marcus showed no signs of stopping, his hips almost seemed to pick up the pace. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Fuck no!” you gasped; eyes fluttering shut as he nudged that spot inside you just right. “Please don’t ever fucking stop.”

“Ok,” he breathed against your lips. “I’m clean and it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.”

“Same,” you replied. “And I’m on birth control, so please, come inside me.”

Marcus groaned deeply at that, his head shifting so he could nip at your neck, soothing the sting with little kitten licks of his tongue. Pulling back, he murmured, “Turn around.”

You did so, whining as he slipped out of you. With a gentle hand, Marcus pushed your upper body against the glass and pulled your hips closer to him so your back arched perfectly. Your tits were pressed up against the glass wall of the shower and, just beyond it, you could see your reflections in the mirror. Only a slight mist of steam swirled in the air from the temperature of the water, and it didn’t hinder your view at all as Marcus closed in behind you, slipping his cock back where it belonged.

You watched your reflections, mesmerized, as he fucked into you, his wet hair flopping over his forehead when he bent forward to kiss along your shoulders and neck. Your hands came up on either side of your head to brace yourself against the glass, hoping that the strength of his thrusts wouldn’t cause it to shatter.

Marcus reached a hand around your thigh, slipping between your legs to pluck at your clit as you fucked you. Every single cell in your body felt aflame, ready to burst at the pleasure racing through you. It didn’t take long for you to explode, eyes squinted shut as you keened.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. Come on my cock, my little Jersey girl. I can feel your cum gushing around me. Fuck, baby.” Once again, Marcus talked you through it in the soft voice of his. He continued thrusting as your walls trembled around him, driving him right over the edge after you, rope and rope of cum splashed your walls as he made the loveliest sex sounds in your ear.

You stayed like that, pressed up against the glass with the weight of Marcus leaning against you, chests heaving, until you both came back down from the high. Taking a few minutes to actually wash the day off each other, you settled on the bed wrapped in towels afterwards.

The two of you talked long into the night and, unable to keep your hands or mouths off each other, you had sex twice more before falling asleep.

Unable to come to an agreement on whether backup would be necessary at this point, you and Marcus finally decided to bring one officer to investigate the Riverbend Hot Springs with you. An extra pair of eyes could be useful, on that you both agreed.

Known for its scenic outdoor pools on the banks of the Rio Grande, visitors usually flocked to Riverbend. The facility not only had the hot springs, but hotel rooms and spaces for recreational vehicles as well. The manager was less than pleased when Marcus informed him that any guests present would have to stay in their rooms and out of both the common and private pools during the search. The last thing the investigation needed was public interference or contaminated evidence.

Searching the private pools first to appease the guests and resort manager, Marcus swiped his hand over his sweaty face when you found nothing.

“Let’s check the common pools now,” he sighed, wondering if it would be another fruitless adventure.

Another two hours of searching – lifting stones, moving decorative displays, going inside the pools themselves, even going so far as to request a shovel from the grounds crew to poke around in the landscaping – turned up nothing.

“At least there’s only one pool to go,” you said, trying to stay positive about finding something. “This has gotta be the one, right?”

“Let’s hope,” Marcus replied. Drenched in a mixed of sweat and mineral water, he wanted nothing more than to slip between cool sheets with you and an ice-cold drink. This case sucked.

Located at the far end of the property, overlooking the Rio Grande, a rock wall encased the final pool for support given the topography on the side along the river dipped lower. Marcus directed the officer to start at one end while he joined you in working your way up from the riverbank. Thorough in your search, you left literally left no stone unturned. One particular large slab placed in the landscaping next to the pool like a decorative display required your and Marcus’ strength combined to lift, and you gasped when you saw what sat in hiding beneath it.

“Is that a fucking trap door?” Marcus asked with a grunt as he glanced down and pushed the rock slab to the side.

“Yeah, it fucking is.” Bending down to open it, Marcus stopped you.

“Wait a second, Jersey girl. We don’t want to just go rushing down there.” He called the officer over for a quick chat, asking him to find the manager and see if anyone knew anything about where the trapdoor led.

Minutes later, the manager and resort engineer joined the group. No one knew a damn thing about what they found. It wasn’t depicted on the as-built drawings or any other schematics the engineer had on file. That did not bode well. Turning to the officer, you asked him to call for back up.

“We’ll head down to scope it out. Come down once backup gets here. In the meantime, please keep the guests away from this area,” Marcus directed the officer and manager before turning to you. “Ready, Jersey girl?”

Pulling your service weapon from its holster, you nodded confidently. “With you at my side, I’m ready for anything.”

Marcus flashed that boyish grin before wrenching the trapdoor open. As suspected, narrow steps carved into the stone descended down into darkness. Before Marcus could ask for one, the facility engineer handed him a flashlight.

Stepping carefully down the steps with the flashlight held high in one hand and his service weapon in the other, Marcus descended into the dark unknown with you right on his heels. At the bottom, a pathway led through more rock, dim light visible in the distance. You reach out while walking along the pathway to find the rock is surprisingly warm.

“I expected it to be cool to the touch,” you murmured, not wanting to make too much noise in case someone or something waited in the shadows.

“Hmm?”

“The walls,” you pointed when Marcus turned around. “They’re warm.”

Directing the beam of light in the direction you pointed, Marcus touched the back of his hand to the wall and looked back at you with a questioning brow. “How?”

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrugged.

“Latent heat from the surface?” he took a guess.

“Your guess is as good as mine. We’re below ground deep enough that it shouldn’t be this warm.”

Marcus continued on down the path, the rock walls growing warmer the farther you progressed. Finally, you turned a corner into a dimly lit chamber, the air filled with oppressive heat making it hard to breathe. You both scanned the room for threats, finding none. The chamber was oddly free of spider webs or bugs or people, aside from the two of you, but a pool of water bubbled inside a ring in the stone floor. Above the pool, an abnormally large, fiery opal appeared to float in the air, the glow from it the only source of light in the chamber aside from the flashlight in Marcus’ hand.

“What the fuck?” you questioned, confused as all hell why the gem just floated in air. “I’m getting some real X-Files type vibes and I DO NOT like it.”

Marcus couldn’t help the twitch of his lips even though he was just as confused as you. “This must be the Flame of Quetzalcoatl.”

“Ya think?” Your nerves made you snarky, a trait Marcus found profoundly adorable and endearing.

Stepping closer to the artifact, Marcus shielded his eyes from the fiery glow. He reached out with one long finger, nearly touching the object when the grinding sound of rock against rock reverberated through the chamber. Jerking back instinctually, both you and Marcus drew your pistols on the sudden intruder.

“Who the fuck are you?” you blurted at the man, your nerves shot to shit, your FBI training the only thing holding you together at that point.

Wild-haired, with oddly composed attire, the man practically vibrated with energy, a glint of insanity in his eerily green eyes. Under one arm, he carried another landscape painting, likely just stolen from another gallery. As if by magic or something equally befitting the utterly odd nature of this entire case, the other stolen paintings appeared, strategically placed along the rock walls rounding the chamber.

“I really don’t like this, Marcus,” you said through gritted teeth. His concerned gaze met yours briefly. “Me either, Jersey.”

It happened, as these things tend to do, suddenly and unexpectedly. The man lunged forward, dropping the painting without thought, and reached a trembling, emaciated hand toward the artifact. Marcus matched the man’s movement, reaching for him rather than the floating, glowing gem. In the process, a glass pedestal you didn’t even know was there, nearly invisible but surely the reason the artifact appeared to be floating in air, toppled over, sending the artifact flying.

You watched, awestruck and frozen in shock, as Marcus tackled the crazy man to the hard ground and the artifact shattered against the rock wall, simultaneously. Almost immediately, the temperature plunged until a damp coolness filled the formerly stuffy chamber, and the man shrieked in despair.

“No! No! No! You’ve ruined everything!” The man continued screeching. Moments later, TCPD officers rushed into the stone room, a few assisting Marcus with securing the thief in cuffs.

Among the backup that just arrived, the police chief stepped up to your side as you gave Marcus a hand in getting back on his feet. “Strangest thing,” the thick-bearded, squat man in uniform said, “the temperature dropped at least twenty-five degrees out of nowhere, just as we started making our way down here. Am I to believe it had something to do with whatever happened down here?”

You and Marcus shared a look before shrugging at the police chief. “I have no clue what even happened down here,” Marcus admitted. Tilting his chin in the crazy man’s direction, he added, “Your boys will bring him in for questioning? We’d like a shot at him, too.”

“Of course. We’ll get him processed. Come by the station whenever you’re finished up here.” The chief followed the officers escorting the man from the chamber, leaving behind a forensics team to gather evidence.

Standing above the shattered artifact, you sighed. “How the hell do I write this up in a report?”

“Very carefully and creatively,” Marcus replied with a smirk.

The interrogation didn’t take long, the man caving like a deck of cards in the wind. His name was Edmund Fawkes, a local starving artist driven mad by the excessive heat. Already obsessed with ancient mythology and local lore, he discovered the hidden chamber containing Quetzalcoatl’s Flame and, seeking the power and prosperity described in the legends, decided to take possession of it by appeasing the ancient god with landscape paintings.

It didn’t work, clearly, but Edmund was relentless in his insanity, continuing his thievery until you and Marcus caught him.

None of it made sense and there were so many things that could be attributed to entirely coincidental circumstances that you didn’t really care how the pieces fit together. The thief had been caught, the paintings returned to the appropriate galleries largely undamaged, and the town was no longer in the clutches of a deadly heat wave. That was all that really mattered.

On your way out of the police station, the case solved as far as the bureau was concerned, you turned to Marcus. “How long are you sticking around?”

Gazing at you with those chocolate puppy eyes, his lips twitched into a grin. “I have several weeks of PTO saved up. Figured I’d use some of that. Maybe all of it if I have a reason to.”

You grinned back at him. “I’m sure we could find a reason for that.”

An hour later, the sun dipping past the desert horizon, you found yourselves naked and neck deep in the soothing mineral water of a private hot springs pool. Given that business was completed, you checked out of the hotel the bureau set you both up in and reserved a room at the best resort in town for a couple days of relaxation.

“I’m going to miss this odd little town, especially Harry and his dingy pub,” Marcus said, pulling you closed to his side as you soaked in the soothing water.

“Me, too. I’m going to miss you most, though. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, both professionally and otherwise,” you admitted, leaning your head against his bare shoulder.

Marcus stilled for a moment before tightening his hold on you. “Why don’t you come back to DC with me?”

“What?” Your head tilted back to meet his eyes.

“You said you put in for a transfer back to the east coast, right?” You nodded and he continued. “Well, come back with me and we’ll have that transfer fast tracked. I’m certain there’s a position for you in DC. We won’t be on the same team, but that’s probably a good thing.”

You giggled at the boyish grin he flashed you. “If you’re sure, I’m game. I just don’t want you to feel like we’re rushing into anything.”

“Pssh, rushing, smushing. I’ve waited long enough to find someone like you. Now that I have, I’m not letting you go,” Marcus insisted. Gesturing between you, he added, “I mean it. There’s something amazing here, I know it. We can leave in a few days, spend a week or two exploring the city and each other before getting back to work.”

At a loss for a worthy response, you pressed your lips against his. The soft kiss quickly turned heated as you spun, straddling his lap, with your hands gripping the stone edge of the pool. Marcus ran his fingertips down the slick skin of your bare back as you squirmed into place, his cock swelling to life at the feel of you above, against, around him.

“I haven’t gotten a chance to ride you yet,” you murmured against his lips, grinding your bare pussy down on him.

“Now’s your chance, Jersey girl,” Marcus gasped through a moan. “Take me and use me, baby.”

Overheated despite the contrasting bite of cool air on your damp skin and warm water engulfing half your body, you eased yourself down onto his cock. You’d never get used to the exquisite stretch as he split you open. Drawing out the anticipation, you slid down his length with agonizing slowness, eliciting delicious whines from Marcus.

“Don’t torture me, baby. Please,” he begged to no avail. Peppering his handsome face with kisses, you kept the pace slow and torturous until he writhed beneath you.

At last, you took his full length inside you and started to move, bouncing eagerly on his cock with your head thrown back in pleasure. Marcus’ eyes stared at your breasts, bobbing along the water line and glistening from splashes of the mineral water as you moved on him. Mesmerized, he could look nowhere else, and his fingers shifted to pluck at the hardened peaks of your nipples.

The air temperature continued to drop as night set in, steam rising up from the warm water of the pool, dancing along your skin in beautiful swirls of water vapor. The clear, starry sky the perfect backdrop to your love making – for that’s what it was now, so much more than sex this time as you gave your whole self over to this wonderful, unexpected man who changed your life in a matter of days.

Overwhelmed with feelings, you keened as his cock nudged at all the right placing, your clit stimulated by grinding on his lap. “Fuck, Marcus. I’m gonna cum.”

Marcus thrust his hips upward at that statement, eager to drive you straight over the cliff into that beautiful abyss. “Do it, baby. Come all over my cock, my beautiful Jersey girl.”

Always good at following instructions, you did just that. Your eyelids slipped closed as you spasmed around him, head thrown back in ecstasy, his name falling like a prayer from your lips.

“That’s it, just like that,” Marcus crooned, pressing soothing kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. “You’re strangling my cock, baby. Gonna make me come too, sexy girl.”

A few more erratic thrusts upward and Marcus came with a fury, cock pulsing with rope after rope of his spend deep inside you. Breathless and exhausted, you clung to each other until shivers settled in from the plunging temperature.

“Let’s get inside, my Jersey girl. We’ll clean up, climb under the covers, and cuddle while we make plans for the future.”

fin

#little lady kinky may #writing challenge 3.0 #iamasaddie game #marcus pike #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fluff #mystery #aztec myth #nonsensical plot

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lesbiannnsstuff · 5 days ago

Text

i know what you want

warnings: alpha!shauna x alpha!reader, top!shauna x bottom!reader, afab reader, dub con, porn with plot, power dynamics, cunnilingus, fingering, biting, swearing

7k words

If life was a gamble, being born as an alpha would be considered winning the lottery. Physically submitting betas, easily attracting omegas with your scent, and commanding a room just by stepping in one, if so desired. It couldn't get better than that, really.

Even so, you were never one to get too cocky about it. Choosing to protect instead of attack. Just like when you used to fight to save your betas and omegas friends in middle school, against alphas bullies. You promised yourself your strength was a steady rock to rely on and not a pedestal from which you couldn't allow yourself to fall. You refused to lean into the overwhelmingly aggressive nature expected of you.

Some of your alpha friends thought it was nonsense, wasting your high rank, but every time some weaker leaned on you, it made it all worth it. And you were proud of that because the survival of the fittest didn’t mean standing above those with lower rank, but standing beside them and helping them thrive as well.

Your principles followed, you anywhere, and the same thing happened once you joined your school’s soccer team in your senior year.

“C'mon, girls! We need to score only one more to get to the nationals!” you yelled to your teammates as you saw how the numbers on the timer were getting closer to zero. It all happened so fast and before you knew it Jackie was heading the ball and scoring the much-needed point. You're going to the nationals.

The locker room felt like a party. Everyone was singing or laughing. You were the state champions, after all. Considering it had been long since Wiskayok High School had won a significant tournament, it was a big deal. And taking into consideration that the only other team in school was the boys from baseball, well, the responsibility was on your back after all. You were the last to get out of the locker room, closing your locker and throwing your bag over your shoulder.

“You’re still here,” you quickly turned towards that familiar voice, a little unsettled by the interruption of your thoughts.

“Shauna? I thought you went home with Jackie,” she glanced at you briefly, before walking to her locker.

“Forgot something,” she murmured, her voice low and smooth. You stood there momentarily before nodding, even though she didn’t look at you anymore, her gaze fixated on the notebook she grabbed from the locker, tucked in her bag.

Her movements are deliberate. No rush, she never rushed. Ironic for the fastest player you’ve ever met. She also didn't seem to feel pressured by your presence, completely unbothered by the idea of having to interact with you. But, again, you doubted Shauna felt pressured to do anything. You thought that maybe for being the only other alphas in the team, she would either befriend you or challenge you for dominance or influence. Still, she didn't seem compelled to do either, leaving to Jackie, her beta best friend, and you, the caring alpha, to lead the way as captain and co-captain.

But, in the end, Shauna always had this thing about her, this quiet confidence, moving calmly as if the world rotated around her. For her, it was unsettling, in a way, how composed she seemed all the time. Most girls thought that her apparent indifference and intimidating posture were all there was about her, but not you. You thought there was something so much more intense and wild about her, and you never knew what it was.

“You played well today. That assist? Perfect timing.” you began, filling the silence. She paused, glancing at you. Her brown eyes were deep and charged with something you couldn’t quite place like she was sizing you. Her gaze lingered a second too long before she looked away. “Thanks”

You couldn't fathom her cold answers, this is the first time in ages since you’ve been alone with her and you don't know exactly what but there's something about Shauna Shipman that is way too magnetic just to let her go like this. There's something about her that every time you brush shoulders, or when you catch her staring whenever you're changing after a game that makes you incredibly anxious. Like you're anticipating, waiting for something you don't know why. “Are you going to that party before nationals?” You leaned against your locker, watching her, trying to seem as unbothered as her.

Shauna sighed, almost imperceptibly. “Jackie didn't give me a choice.” She closed her locker ready to go. “Are you guys together?” You regretted your question the moment it came out of your mouth. Shauna's gaze sharpened in a matter of seconds.

“I don't think that's any of your business” The sharpness in her tone sent a jolt through you, leaving you breathless, her words cutting through the air like a knife. You knew you’d overstepped, but something about the way she looked at you now, ferocious, unflinching, and ardent with quiet fervor, made it impossible to regret the question entirely.

“Yeah, fair,” you replied, crossing your arms and forcing a casual shrug even as you could barely feel your knees.

Shauna didn’t move for a moment, her eyes boring into yours with a potency you never felt before. You hated the heavy silence but you didn’t dare to say anything, scared of how weak your voice would sound. Then, slowly, she stepped closer, her movements deliberate.

“You always ask questions you don’t want answers to?” she said finally, her glare locked onto you. Her voice is quieter now, but no less sharp. There was a challenge in her tone, a dare.

You felt the blow hitting you intensely. You hesitated, caught off guard, but you wouldn't let her see it, so you just scoffed, rolling your eyes in a weak attempt at nonchalance. “Maybe I just like to get to know my teammates.”

At that, Shauna let out a smooth, humorless chuckle that made your whole body buzz. “You want to understand me?” She asked seriously now, tone low and steady, each word weighing heavy on your ears. “You wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag, trying to hold onto something. “Maybe I’d start with how you're always behind the scenes,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “So controlled... you never even tried to come up to me once. You never challenged me or tried to assert your dominance.”

Her eyes were unreadable, as she stepped even closer. She moved so confidently, every step more precise and sure than the last one. As if the space between you was hers to take. You didn’t realize your back hit the lockers.

“Dominance isn’t something you show off,” she murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “It’s something you make people feel.” Her words sank into you, pressing against your chest with unmeasurable force.

“Is that what Jackie feels?” You were trying to redirect the tension, to shift the focus off of yourself and let you breathe for even as long as a second, but the question only seemed to deepen the intensity in her gaze.

“Jackie?” Shauna repeated, her eyebrow shot up almost imperceptibly and her lips curving into the smallest hint of a smile that didn’t even reach her eyes. “Jackie’s safe with me. because I want her to be, that’s all there is to it.”

The message behind her words was impossible to miss. “So... people are only safe if you decide they should be?” you asked, slightly annoyed at her calm arrogance. She leaned in just slightly, her scent suddenly overwhelming with something unmistakably alpha. An aggressive scent that seemed to fill the entire room.

Her voice dropped to a near murmur. “Do you think anyone’s safe when I don’t want them to be?”

The words made your breath hitch, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. Her eyes were too much but you couldn't dare to look away either. You forced yourself to say, though your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be. “Am I safe?”

Shauna chuckled again, brief and so low you could feel it vibrating on your chest. “You're an alpha too, you tell me,” she said, sizing you up, but something in her eyes made you realize she wasn't so impressed. You couldn't hold back how that pissed you off.

“You don’t have to be so intense all the time,” you spoke as steadily as you could, gathering all the fight you still had.

Shauna’s eyes narrowed, and she took another step closer, chests barely touching. “And you don’t have to act like you’re not affected by it,” she said, her tone final. And just like that, all the left fight was gone.

Your heart pounded, your throat dry as sand as you struggled to find a response, a witty comeback, or anything to close the gap between your positions. But before you could say anything, Shauna turned toward the door. Then she delivered her final blow.

“And by the way, I never tried to assert my dominance over you for a simple reason”

She stopped at the door, her head tilting slightly as she looked back at you. “Because the way you look at me… it’s submission enough.”

The door closed behind her, leaving you standing there, stunned and breathless. You let yourself slide to the floor. Her voice still echoed in your mind.

The way you look at me, it’s submission enough

You’re an alpha. Submission and you were like oil and water. Or, at least, they were supposed to be. Then why does Shauna seem so certain? And why you’re feeling so exposed like you've just been caught? Then it hit you.

You were not only intrigued by Shauna or her ways. You were drawn by it.

You were attracted to the same alpha characteristics that made her an alpha, just like you.

No, not like you. She was something else, something more. And, as much as you hated to admit it, you were being pulled to her because of it.

You saw Shauna at the party as you confidently sipped your drink. You couldn’t help but notice Randy chugging his beer in some sort of drinking game and dedicating it to her. You scoffed and she rolled her eyes. Like Shauna would be interested in him, yeah, sure, Randall.

“Look, I don't know if you realized, but this is a party. You should be having fun and not sizing up the competition” Van elbowed your torso playfully, and you turned to her wide-eyed. Were you so obvious? Could she possibly have noticed your disdain for Randy? Or, even worse, your attraction to Shauna?

"Randy? Please, like he even stands a chance with Shauna. She's way out of his league," you said, sipping your drink trying to seem nonchalant.

Van raised an eyebrow, her smile widening amused. “You know I wasn't talking about Shauna, right? But it was interesting that it was your conclusion. Interesting,” the redhead laughed loudly, looking at you like you just told her the best joke she’d ever heard.

“What the fuck were you even talking about?” You asked with a scowl trying to cover your embarrassment. “I meant the drinking game. Thought you’d take him on since you’re so good at it.” You almost lost Van's explanation as the girl couldn't stop laughing.

Van began to recompose herself, slapping your back as if to break the awkward tension. “Relax. I won't tell anyone that you dig alphas too” You thank Van, forcing a small smile, but your mind is already spinning.

Then the night took a turn.

It started with a heated argument between Shauna and Taissa, voices cutting through the music before the other girls joined in the mess. Jackie was trying to part the fight unsuccessfully. Shauna's scent had begun to make its presence in the air, the rich and smooth smell growing overwhelmingly. You observed how a few omegas nearby began to shrink back in discomfort.

Before you knew it, you were standing beside her. “Shauna, come here for a second,” you said firmly, your hand gripping hers as you led her toward a more empty corner.

Shauna didn’t resist, though her anger could still be seen coming out in waves, her sharp fangs threatening to make their appearance. Once you were far enough away from the chaos, you let go of her hand, she leaned against a tree, exhaling slowly.

“What the fuck was that?” You asked pissed off, clenching your fists in annoyance.

“Your savior complex is incredibly annoying, you know that right?” she said, her voice tight.

“Your scent was all over the place!” you replied, your voice heightening a couple of tones, standing a few feet away, arms crossed. “Some of the others couldn’t handle it. It was too much for them. They were scared”

Her eyes locked onto yours, stepping closer. “And what about you? Can you handle me?” she asked, her voice smooth, the challenge unmistakable.

You swallowed hard, refusing to step back. “You know I’m not like the others.”

Her lips curved into a slow, teasing smirk. “No, you’re not.” She took another step, grabbing your jacket and pulling you close enough now that her scent was all you could breathe in. Her gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes.

Your pulse quickened loudly in your ears as you tried to hold your ground. “I didn’t bring you out here to fight,” you managed to say, though your voice was shakier than you intended.

“Are you sure that’s not what you want? Trying to be the alpha of the team, huh?” Shauna leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. "Or maybe," she murmured, her voice dropping dangerously, "you just wanted me all to yourself."

Your stomach flipped and you pushed her away. You felt like you were teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t name, and Shauna was right there, daring you to jump. You just didn’t know if she’d catch you or let you fall. "Don’t flatter yourself," you shot back, almost in a growl. Her smirk widened, her fingers still gripping your jacket.

"Oh, I don’t need to," she replied smoothly. "I can smell it on you."

"Don’t play games with me, Shipman," you warned, your voice sharper and steadier than you were feeling.

Her expression didn’t falter, but her eyes shone with something untamed, something that was enjoying the situation. Like she was amused to see you so worked up. Her eyes were predatory, like a beast who toys with its prey. "Who said I’m playing? You think you’re so above it all, don’t you?" Her tone was mocking. "Such a noble alpha. But deep down... you’re just like the rest of us. Driven by instinct. Waiting for a moment where you can bare your teeth.”

Shauna smiled. “But it's a tragedy though,” the alpha continued slowly. “Maybe you could go fucking crazy if it wasn’t for me. Because as long as I'm here you'll never be able to bite, only bark”

“You are drunk” you replied trying to prevent yourself from lashing out.

“And you are pretending” Shauna tilted her head. “Like you’re unshaken, my equal, a threat. You're acting tough, trying to press everyone else but I don't buy it for a second. I can see what you are.” Her smile widened in defiance.

“You better watch your mouth, Shipman.” Your scent became stronger, lingering in the air.

“A big puppy who likes to growl but wants to be tamed by someone who knows how” That was it. When you began to lunge towards Shauna. She bent her knees waiting for the impact.

“What the fuck is going on here?” A high-pitched voice stopped both of you. You both look at the same time to that familiar scent. “Jackie…”

“I thought you brought here for some air and not to fight,” Jackie said visibly annoyed and she walked towards you and pointed her finger to your chest. She was right. You lost your composure, you let your anger lead you instead of your thoughts.

“It was my fault,” Shauna said, fixing her hair. “I had way too much to drink and didn't think straight. They were actually trying to make me behave” She continued with a knowing smirk.

“It’s fine, just, let's get you out of here. We're almost past our curfew anyways” Jackie grabbed Shauna's hand and began to pull her out of there. “And, thank you, really, for earlier” Jackie turned to you momentarily. You only nodded back.

You clenched your jaw, watching Jackie pull her away. Running a hand through your hair you realize that Shauna had you exactly where she wanted you, and who knows what would happen if Jackie didn't get there in time. You were sure that there wouldn't be the last time Shauna would test or the last time you’d rise to meet her. You just didn’t know that the next time that would happen, Jackie would be there to stop here.

It's been months since you have been in the wilderness. If you knew that that party would be one of your last moments of normalcy, you'd enjoy it to the fullest, maybe even play against Randy in that disgusting drinking game until you passed out. Or, even talk more with Shauna. Even if just fighting like the last time. It's been such a long time since she had a proper conversation with someone. Taissa being the one gets closer to doing so. Although you can still notice her staring at you from across the room.

All of you just fell into this system. Everyone has their chores and works together to make survival minimally bearable. After Shauna lost Jackie and later the baby she became feral, disrupting the fragile society you have built together. You weren't at the house at the time hell broke loose. When you came back you only saw Lottie on the ground, beaten up and bloody. You yelled at Shauna that day, throwing insults at one another as the fine line connecting you both snapped. After that day you barely talked with each other anymore.

Over time, it fractured into two groups, those who followed Shauna, driven by her ruthless determination to survive at any cost, and those who sided with you, clinging to a semblance of empathy and humanity amidst the chaos. The divide was subtle at first, but it grew into something much more pronounced.

The girls made sure that you wouldn't be in the same room alone and your chorus were never in the same place or at the same time. The wilderness was dangerous enough as it was and none of you really needed two enraged suppressants-lacking bloodlust alphas growling at each other and stinking the forest with musky pheromones. And that worked. For weeks. Until it didn’t.

It was like any other day, boring and repetitive, as you finished your daily chores. After putting aside the makeshift cleaning tools you just wanted to allow yourself to be lazy for the day. Stretching your sore limbs.

“You're not in charge anymore”. That voice. After hearing the sound, you quickly went straight to the window trying to catch a glimpse of the commotion outside.

Shauna stood tall and imposing over Nat, smirking sinisterly at the omega. The blonde was shaking, clearly distressed by Shauna's overwhelming scent. You didn’t need to be a genius to know what was going on. Shauna was again threatening the group's fragile hierarchy. You were aware Shauna wasn’t happy with Natalie as the antler queen, but you didn't realize she’d question her authority in front of everybody.

“What the fuck is going on here?” you yelled, stomping out of the cabin, your voice cutting through the silence of the crowd.

“She’s weak,” Shauna said unbothered, her tone dripping with disdain. “She isn't a leader. You know that.”

Nat gave you a desperate glance, her bottom lip quivering. She wanted to say something but couldn’t defend herself in this situation.

“You’re out of line, Shauna,” you replied, stepping between them. “The wilderness had chosen because she earned it.”

“It was a mistake,” she replied matter-of-fact, crossing her arms.

“You aren't the one to decide it” You stepped in front of Nat, eyes boring into the challenging Shauna.

“Look around. I'm not the only one” She opened her arms confidently, inviting you to observe everyone's faces, and you realized that Shauna was right. All were staring at you with cold glares, demanding change, even those you thought would be against this pseudo-coup. Van, Taissa… God, even damn Travis Martinez. But you didn’t care, you may not be the most fervent wilderness worshipper, but if it decides their antler queen, you'd make your job to protect her.

“If you want to challenge her, you’ll have to go through me.” You growled, making sure to show your growing fangs.

“I’ll give you a chance to take that back.” Shauna scowled, releasing pheromones so heavy you felt like gravity doubled its force, but you didn't back down, releasing your own pheromones.

Murmurs spread through the group. Mari, standing beside Shauna, grinned like she’d been waiting for this moment.

“Why don’t we settle this the way alphas should?” Mari offered, her voice beaming with dark enthusiasm. “A fight. You and Shauna. The winner takes charge. Let’s see who really deserves to lead.”

You clenched your fists, your blood-boiling anger at Shauna for starting this mess, anger at the group for not saying anything about it, and anger at yourself for not being able to handle this situation any better. You didn’t want to give Shauna the satisfaction of a fight, but deep down, you knew this wasn’t any other way. The pack needed stability, and Shauna’s challenge threatened to tear down what little unity remained within you.

“Fine. Not in front of everyone. I don’t want anyone possibly hurt or overwhelmed”

Shauna’s smirk widened. “Of course not. We’ll take it to the forest. Just us.”

The sun had set, and the moon shone beautifully in the sky. “You don't have to do this for me,” Nat said as she cupped your cheek. “It's not only for you, Nat. The whole pack is in danger if Shauna actually takes over.” Nat smiled, closing her eyes and connecting your foreheads. “May the wilderness be with you”

Shauna cleared her throat, visibly annoyed. “It’s time,” she said, putting her knife on the belt. You had a small knife with you as well.

“The rules are simple. You'll walk to different points in the forest and will have to find the other. Whoever gets the other to submit wins. As the tradition says.” Mari said after clapping her hands to call everyone's attention.

“Remembering no one is supposed to get seriously hurt.” Taissa stepped up, her voice firm and commanding as she observed Mari's enthusiasm with narrowed eyes.

With one last look to the cabin, you and Shauna began to walk to the forest, on opposite sides. You knew things would never be the same after this, but whatever the consequences would be, you were prepared to face it.

The forest seemed quieter that noon like it was holding its breath in anticipation. Its oppressive silence pressed against your limbs like a suffocating weight. Your steps on the soil and dry leaves were the only sounds in the middle of that vast forest, but every crack of a twig underfoot was stifled by your racing heartbeat in your ears. It's been about ten minutes you haven’t heard of Shauna. You tried to steady your breathing, but the idea that Shauna could be watching you, lurking you, made it impossible as your skin crawled. At some point, you just wished she would appear at any moment to free you from this building anxiety making your knees shake.

Your sweaty palms clutched the hilt of the knife in your hand with great force, a solace in this ocean of uncertainty. The oppressive silence of the forest drove your senses heightened to the point of exhaustion. You were here because you wanted to protect everything at risk. The ones who didn’t agree with Shauna, the society you’ve built throughout the months, peace. But a question lingered insistently in the back of your mind: aren't you at risk as well?

You tried to steady your breathing, tried to cling to the reason that had brought you here, but that was hard to think about when you knew that Shauna was out there, somewhere.

The woods seemed endless, each tree seemingly the same as the last one, blending into the next in a maze. Suddenly, you hear the faint rustle of leaves behind you, you turn immediately, but you can’t see anything suspicious. No movement, no sound. Maybe this whole situation is driving you crazy, making your anxious brain play tricks on you.

Or that you thought.

“You don’t seem very well,” a low chuckle broke the silence, and your stomach dropped. You spun around, your eyes scanning the shadows. “Poor baby. Seems so scared” Shauna’s voice echoed through the woods mockingly.

Your grip tightened around the knife as you scanned your surroundings, forcing yourself to stand tall even though your legs felt like jelly. “Are you so scared you can't show yourself?” you yelled, trying so hard to sound firm, but still wavering slightly.

Another sinister chuckle broke, slightly closer this time. “No, it's just so much more fun watching you scared.”

Then, she appeared. Right behind you.

“I'm so sorry, I know it isn’t right to play with my food”. She whispered in your ear., making your skin crawl. Your legs felt glued to the ground. Her scent hit you like a freight train, unrailed. You wanted to look back, your instincts screamed at you to turn to her and use that knife you brought with you. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

“Look at you,” she murmured, her voice dripping with mockery as she buried her nose in the crook of your neck. “Trying so hard to look brave, but I can smell it on you, you know? The fear.” Her front pressed against your back firmly, and one hand on your waist pulled you closer, as the other slid down your thigh. “Your legs are shaking…” Your eyes widened in horror.

Move, move, move goddamnit.

In a moment of bravery, you elbowed her torso, and turned back, creating some distance between you. “I’m not afraid of you!” You pointed the knife at her threateningly, daring her to step closer. And she did.

“I bet you think you look so intimidating right now,” Her steps were firm against the leaves, creating a rhythmic sound as she stepped closer. “Stay where you are, Shipman!” You began to back away slowly, she smiled at your motions. “I bet you think you look so big and strong… but let me tell you something…” you kept moving back, trying to create some distance. “I'm not kidding!” your hand clutching the knife was trembling, you barely could stand your arm straight.

“The truth is, you look exactly what you are” Your back hit a tree, ceasing your steps. She stopped walking when the tip of your shaky knife rested on her stomach. “Like a cornered little rat.” In a hasty move, she grabbed your knife and threw it somewhere you couldn't bother looking. “Did you even know how to use that thing?” she asked, visibly amused, her smirk beaming in arrogance and someone else, something you were scared to find out.

“We don't have to do this, Shauna. We can just talk and solve this”. You offered, voice cracking midst sentence. She tilted her head, in a slow, deliberate motion, her smile widening as her fingers brushed against your cheek, feather-light.

“You know something that always intrigued me about you?” her fingers trailed from your cheek to your jawline, contouring your bone. “You always act so righteous, so put together and proud of not being like the other alphas,” her eyes burned into yours, a predatory gaze staring into your raw soul.

“But you're so attracted to the wild, to bare instinct… to primal rage” You swing yours first, targeting her face, but she was faster and pinned your wrist to the tree, squeezing it so hard it made you wince. “Is this why you like to put yourself in danger? Because you want this adrenaline, to hear your heart racing?” her fingers began to glaze on your side, Shauna seemed entranced by the movements of her own hand.

You took it as an opportunity to strike again, your knee moved into the direction of her torso, but once more Shauna was too fast, and defended herself. A hand grabbed your jaw forcefully, “I'm trying to go easy on you don't make regret on that” She let remnants of her alpha voice escape in that sentence. And you froze for what seemed like the 100th time that noon.

Menacing fangs made their presence as she pressed her body flush against yours, soft but firm flesh. Her lips ghosted against yours, close enough to make them tingle in anticipation. The hand on your jaw slid slowly to your nape and then your hair, pulling it roughly exposing your neck to her.

“Shauna…” your voice sounded so weak you almost didn't recognize it. Soft lips brushed on the surface of your throat, sharp teeth grazing it just slightly, enough to make you shiver. “Tell me,” She said, breathing hot on your skin, “What are you most afraid of? That I’m gonna hurt you? Or that you'll like it?” She kissed your skin, open-mouthed and warm. Too softly considering your current situation.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, before letting out a gasp once you felt Shauna biting down. “Shh,” Shauna pressed her body even further on yours. “Just let me do this. I know you want it too” You let yourself melt, little by little. The alpha in front of you smirked against your jaw.

You weren’t about to give in without a fight. Once you felt Shauna lowering her guard you summoned every ounce of courage you had left, you twisted your body, wrenching your wrist free from her grip and pushing her shoulders. Shauna growled at your defiance but didn't back away. You swing your arm at her, punching as hard as you can. She dodged your strike and grabbed your arm mid-swing, using your momentum against you, she spun you around and slammed you into the ground.

With a grunt, you twisted beneath her, trying to buck her off, trying to shift her weight. But Shauna was too strong, too determined. When you tried to turn to your side in a failed attempt to spin her, she was the one to spin you around once more, landing you on your face this time. You swung your elbow, this time aiming for her side, but Shauna caught it way too easily, twisting it painfully and pressing it on your back. Before you could react, she had you helpless, her weight pressing against your back, her breath hot on your nape.

“You're still fighting,” Shauna muttered, voice covered with annoyance and amusement. “But I can see you're liking this… I've always known you liked this” She licked a long stripe on your neck. “You always looked at me with those big puppy eyes when you thought I didn’t see it” Her hips rolled forward, beginning to grind against the back of your thigh.

You froze. “Shauna, what the-”

“So composed” She interrupted you, breathing hot on your face. “Playing the knight in shiny armor, trying to hide how much you just wanted to be broken, tamed… devoured”

You felt your blood rushing to your cheeks and a way too familiar sensation on your clit, asking for something you didn’t want to acknowledge. “You’re so stubborn. But I like that about you. You wouldn’t be so fucking sexy if you weren’t” She wrapped her hand around your throat and used her thumb to turn your chin towards her, making you look at her.

Her other hand slid under your shirt, roaming down your side, her fingers grazing over your ribs. “Together, we would be unmatchable. Have you ever thought about that?” she murmured, her lips brushing against your temple. “We are stronger, more powerful, better… We shouldn’t take orders, we should give them. Like we were born to do” She gave a last bite of your earlobe before turning you to her completely.

She cleaned the remains of dirt from your cheek. “Think about it,” She began to lift her shirt, and your eyes widened, scanning her every move. “You by my side. Ruling together. No one would challenge us. Not Nat, not Lottie, not anyone”

“You want me as your slave with benefits?” You said, eyes still fixated on the soft and toned muscles of her abs. “I wouldn’t say, my slave, more like my right-hand man” She began to tug on the hem of your shirt, and when you thought she would lift it too, she used her other hand to rip it open. “But I wouldn't say you won't have benefits”

“Are you craz-” Shauna connected your mouths before you could finish your protest, she harshly bit down your bottom lip, making you groan. You tried to push her away by instinct, but she didn’t budge, only bit it harder. Trying to get away from the pain you swung a punch to her ribs. You thought she would be pissed off and would lash at you, but Shauna only pulled smiling sinisterly at you, with remains of your blood on her teeth. You couldn’t escape the shiver running down your spine.

“There it is…” She closed the distance between you again, but this time she truly kissed you. The kiss was feral, uncontrolled… Shauna. Her skin pressed against yours, enveloping you in this primal heat that made your skin tingle. Her tongue shoved in your mouth, you didn't have time to assimilate completely that wet sensation, when her thigh pressed between your legs, drawing a gasp from you. God, you hated how you pulsed under her touch.

Shauna slyly took her hand to toy with your bra clasp. Her bloody sleep traveled down to your jawline, biting it hard. Your hand shot up to grab her wrist, nails digging in as you tried to push her away. She winced, before chuckling darkly unclapsing your underwear anyway, before throwing it somewhere.

Your first reaction was to cover yourself, but she was fast. “Don't you dare” With a growl, she pinned your wrists down, nails digging into your forearm. Her gaze burned on your chest. You felt exposed, but with Shauna's like full weight in pressing you against the dirt, you couldn’t move. You just lay there, like a prey playing dead not to startled the predator. You couldn't stop yourself from sneakily rutting against Shauna's thigh pressed on you.

She looked hypnotized, in a trance as she moved closer and without any warning caught your nipple in her mouth. Shauna moaned on your chest, her soft plump lips sucking on it eagerly. Her tongue flicked at the bud inside her mouth. With a last bite on your nipple, she captured the other chest. You felt your body buzzing, your back arching towards against your command.

“Don’t move your hands” She let go of your wrist and moved her fingers to unzip your shorts. Her mouth began to liss its way down your body, until your lower stomach, where she licked and bit it. “Stop… Shauna…” You tried to push her shoulders, but she ignored you, pulling your shorts off you and spreading your legs wide.

“You're fucking insane…” You said it with gritted teeth, cheeks burning as you watched her gaze fixating on your panties. “And you're wet,” she said lowly, and as if to prove her point Shauna used her thumb to rub on your clothed pussy. She was right, you could feel the fabric sticking to your slippery, warm folds. A moan broke out before you could stop.

That seemed to turn something in Shauna's mind. Seeing you struggling, squirming under like a small rabbit trying to run from a big bad wolf. It was the hottest thing she'd ever seen. She leaned down, her breath hot against the soaked fabric, she pressed her nose on it, your smell driving her absolutely crazy.

She pushed your panties to the side and looked up at you, hungry eyes expecting you to say something, to fight her. “Tell me no, tell me to stop” Her mouth was so close now, hot kisses on your inner thigh, fangs gripping into your flesh, tonguing darting out and tasting your skin. No one ever looked at you like this before, you were supposed to be the hunter, the alpha. But now you were questioning everything, clenching and unclenching your hands over your stomach trying to say something.

But Shauna wasn't waiting.

Her tongue darted out, dragging a long, deliberate line along your folds. The shock of the sensation sent your hips jerking upward involuntarily, and she chuckled darkly, the vibration against your skin making you bite back a moan, you could feel her smile against you.

Her fingers gripped your thighs tightly, keeping you spread open for her as her mouth worked passionately. Each flick, nip, and slurp was messy but not careless. She knew how to break you, to draw out sounds you couldn't contain no matter how hard you tried. "You taste like you've been waiting for this," she said against you, her voice smug,

The sheer audacity of her words lit up a fire of indignation within you, and you reached down, grabbing a fistful of her hair to yank her back. But instead of being unmotivated, Shauna groaned, her eyes rolling back slightly as if the roughness only turned her on even more. She just dived into you with more passion. She was moaning, and groaning against you, like she tasting her last meal.

As if that wasn't enough for her, Shauna slid her finger in you, relishing in the way your gummy walls clenched around her. Her breath hitched. "That's it," she muttered, almost to herself, her voice raw. "You can fight all you want, but this…" she curled her finger inside you, hitting a spot that made you arch uncontrollably, "...this doesn't lie.”

Her nails were so purposefully deep on your thigh, scratching your skin. Every action was possessive, unrelenting as if she was claiming you with every touch. She adds another finger, her pace brutal and unforgiving. Her other hand pinned down your hips from fucking yourself against her hand like she selfishly wanted to be the one giving you pleasure. Her thumb found your clit, circling it with a precision that made your vision blurred.

Shauna leaned up, her face hovering just inches from yours, her breath hot and heavy. "Every time you look at me, every time you challenge me... I've wanted this. Wanted you.” The wilderness swallowed your sounds, Shauna and the trees being the only ones to hear your desperation, the pleasure the alpha was giving you. “Come on, bunny. Lost all the fight in you?”

Your teeth clenched, your body trembling in want. You're close, and Shauna knew that, and Shauna would take advantage of that. “I could keep you like this all night, edging you, leaving you…” you shot what you thought to be a threatening glare at her, but clearly it wasn’t threatening enough since it only caused Shauna’s smile.

"Say you're mine. Say you love this, that you love me fucking you like this." You shook your head, your pride clashing with the raw pleasure. "Never," you hissed, though your voice wavered. Shauna's grin turned sinister, and without warning, she withdrew her fingers from you, leaving you empty. “Oh, you will," she said, her tone dripping with dark amusement. "Because if you don't, I won't let you come."

Your jaw clenched, your body shaking with the effort of holding back. But Shauna wouldn't make it easy for you, her fingers still resting on you, rubbing you teasingly, driving you closer and closer to the edge without ever letting you fall completely. You could take just as much. Finally, the tension snapped. Your voice broke, and came out as a desperate moan. “Fine!" you yelled, "I want this, I want you!"

Shauna's laughter was satisfied, her fingers immediately entering back into you, her thumb circling your clit once more. "Good bunny," she purred, her voice dripping with victory. "Was that so hard?"

The intensity of her movements made your head spin, and she leaned down, her lips capturing yours in an intense kiss. "You're mine now,”. A cry tore from your throat, and a wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

Shauna didn't stop, drawing out every last tremor and drip from your body until you were a trembling mess beneath her. She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. "I told you, bunny... you were made to be mine.”

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