#i couldn't find the gif without the whiskey line so here

[daydreamingleclerc]

gorgeous; lewis hamilton

y/n's boyfriend is arguably one of the worst men on the planet, so, she decides to hook up with a pretty boy she meets in a club.

includes; smut, oral (m, f), fingering, degradation, teasing, spanking, hair pulling, face fucking, sir!kink, dom!lewis, sub!reader, infidelity, unprotected sex, squirting. this hasn't been proofread.

this is part of my taylor swift masterlist which you can find here. thank you to @sainzcaleruega and @landopeaches for always hyping up my writing even when i think it sucks <33

he was arguably one of the most attractive people she'd ever seen. that was a fact. his skin glowed under the harsh lighting, somehow making him look ethereal in a sea of sweaty, aggressively lit men and women, and whenever he looked over in her direction her skin buzzed with a sense of anticipation she didn't find anywhere else. a sense of excitement she hadn't felt for what felt like a lifetime.

as stubborn as he was in these situations, he had to admit - she too, was one of the prettiest women he'd ever laid eyes upon. the way she looked so effortlessly, shamelessly gorgeous in a room full of women who'd tried a little too hard to impress drew him to her like a moth to a flame. she didn't have to try, not for him, anyway.

"can i buy you a drink?"

the line was cheesy, and half-expected when she waltzed up to the bar. he watched her every move, as she weaved her way in and out of the crowd with ease, as if it was a habit. her lips curled up into a half smile and she pondered on the origin of his accent.

"i've got a boyfriend," her eyes raked across the selection of flavoured liquor standing on the shelf, and she waited for his reaction to come. he waivered, only slightly. "but if you want to take me home with you i suggest you try a lot harder than buying me a drink."

the man smirked and stood in closer, only by a few millimeters. his hand draped over the small of her back, and in that moment she noticed his scent. he smelled divine, the scent of richness and old money that she'd scoured so hard to find; he smelt like a man who was familiar with the ins and outs of what he was doing and that was almost enough for her to cave.

"what are you drinking?" he questioned. his voice was soft yet firm, and even under the boom of heavy music, she could hear him crystal clear.

"surely you should be able to tell," she glanced over at him for the first time since he struck up a conversation, but soon faced the liquors again, "a man with your intelligence, expertise. you know what a woman wants, so figure it out."

he admired her nonchalant nature, and so he went ahead and ordered for her, "a whiskey on ice and a tequila sunrise," his eyes flickered over to her as he spoke and immediately flickered back to the barman.

"anything else?"

"two orgasms," the barman almost walked away until she spoke, he nodded, and she glanced over at the pretty man beside her, "i'd ask for a couple more, but that's just being selfish."

he leaned in closer again, his fingers brushing her hipbones and marking his territory to those around him. "it's rude to have no manners," his finger's ran up the side of her dress, feeling out the zip just underneath the armpit so he could toggle on it later, "but then again, you'll be using them later."

"you seem oddly confident," she rose to his game fiercely and feistily, her eyes still avoiding him, "it's almost a pity."

her cockiness was arousing to him. he loved it when women fell at his feet, but this game was so much more entertaining for him to play. he couldn't help but hide a smirk. "we'll see who's going to be pitied when you're desperate enough to beg."

the drinks were brought to the pair of them quickly, and he watched as she knocked back both orgasms without a singular hitch in her face - oh, if only she knew how the orgasms he provided would leave her reeling.

"aren't you going to ask me about my boyfriend, about why i'm here in a crowded club all alone?"

it was clear to him she'd played this game multiple times before, but now she'd just confirmed it. "no," he simply smiled, and when she startled, his face grew wider, "judging by the fact you're out, talking to me, allowing me to buy you drinks, means you don't want to talk about him," his finger circled the rim of his whiskey glass, "but it also tells me you've come here to do this before, time and time again, desperate for somebody to show you a good time. am i right?"

her mouth suddenly went dry.

she sucked the cocktail through the small straw, and he waited patiently for her response.

"you could say that's correct," it pissed her off to admit he was right; she didn't like doing that, "do you think you're up to the task?" her eyes looked right into his, and for the first time that night, she allowed herself to get lost in them, "because i don't think you've got what it takes."

their lips were so close in that moment, she could feel his breath fanning at her skin and it ignited a fire inside of her stomach. the tension could be sliced with a knife, and when he placed his finger on her lips to halt her movements, it drove her crazy.

"you couldn't be more wrong, sweetheart."

"prove it to me, then."

her lips puckered slightly so she could kiss the pad of his finger, but in his haste he allowed himself to divulge in the taste of her tongue. sparks flew inside of her stomach at the prospect of what was inevitably going to happen, and when his tongue slid along her bottom lip, she fought it. Y/N wasn't one for giving in that easily.

"i don't even know your name," the man muttered against her lips, pulling away for a short breath of air in the midst of all his hormones, "and i'd, at the very least, like to tell you mine so you know what name to type into your phone next time you go looking for a man to make you feel good."

"you're so cocky," she hummed, pulling away from him snappishly to fumble on the counter for her drink. she admired the lipstick stain smeared across his chin. "it's almost humbling."

"you're so eager," he retorted, allowing himself a moment of composure. her body language was buzzing, and her eagerness to allow him to have his way with her was radiating off of her skin and bouncing among the pair of them like energy. "you might as well just bend over and let me fuck you in here."

he watched as the glimmer in her eyes shone, and cottoned onto the notion that she loved the thought of that. she knew that he could sense it, too, and she cursed herself for allowing her eyes to be so distinctively emotional.

"your eyes say everything you don't, darling," he paused and leaned closer, and when she went in for another kiss, he laughed. "see, i'm already starting to pity you."

he watched as she knocked back her drink, and as much as he wanted to tease her some more and hang back in the club for an hour or so, this was his forte.

"i hope your boyfriends not expecting you back anytime soon," he grabbed at her hand as he pulled her through the crowd, the manner brash and needy, nothing like the way she waltzed through it last time. "my name's lewis, by the way. you're gonna need to remember that."

/

his hotel room wasn't that far of a journey, and Y/N thanked her lucky stars when her initial thoughts were right - he was rich, and she was going to make sure to be calling him again.

"you still haven't told me your name," he said, handing her a small glass filled with tequila soda.

she took a sip, "is that a bad thing?"

"i'd at least like to know your name before i fuck you, yeah," he took a sip of his and perched on the edge of the armchair opposite her. her legs looked deliciously long and slender from this angle, and the light bounced off of them and caused a sleek shine. "is that a bad thing?"

"i suppose not," she hummed, and leaned forward to place her drink on the table. her cleavage squeezed between her arms as she moved and lewis struggled to keep himself composed. "Y/N."

Y/N.

he felt at peace knowing he had a name to put to the face, and it was just as beautiful as he imagined. she leaned back in her chair and her eyes gazed over him, and he was in awe of how she did everything so effortlessly. he leaned over the coffee table and hovered over her, his hands resting on the arm of her chair.

now that they could see one another clearer, and the atmosphere was less intrusive, there was a self consciousness surrounding them, as if they didn't want to get it wrong or overstep their mark; even though they both knew what they were here to do.

when lewis leaned down to kiss her, she melted into him almost immediately, and any traces of the feisty, fiery lady she once was at the bar had subsided. she was his, ultimately and indefinitely his, for this night.

lewis' hands trailed down her arms and along the stitching of the dress in an attempt to find the zipper from earlier. "may i...?" he asked, although when she'd started to nod, he was already pulling it down.

the dress completely unzipped and when lewis sunk to his knees and helped her to shimmy out of it, she didn't stop him. his lips caressed her thighs, kissing at the hot, slightly sweaty skin just to tease her as his thumbs and forefingers massaged at her calves.

her impatience had begun to seep through and it was clear to him she was beginning to become desperate when he noticed the material of her lace underwear changing colour due to the damp patch. he couldn't help but smirk.

his lips trailed across her pubic bone, that was partially hidden by the flimsy excuse for underwear, and as he kissed along the hot skin, she jolted and shimmied in anticipation.

"waiting for something?"

Y/N bucked her hips, but lewis' hands flew to her thighs and stopped her before she could gain any friction from the contact. "i said," he repeated, "are you waiting for something?"

she grumbled, "if you're not gonna fucking do it, then i'll find someone else who will."

lewis' eyes darkened, and she soon realised she was probably going to regret saying those words. he yanked at the material of her underwear and pulled it off in one swift motion, tossing it over his shoulder. "legs up," he motioned for her to swing her legs onto the arms of the chair, and she obliged, swinging them up onto the arms despite the ache it brought to her thighs. "good girl, you do know how to listen."

he savored the moment, allowing his fingers to slide within her folds and touch her delicately, swirling the pad of his middle finger around her clit and pressing softly into her opening. she was mewling, soft little whimpers and hardly-there noise that screamed out so much.

lewis' tongue swirled around her clit and immediately her hands flew to his dreadlocks. his hands splayed across her thighs as he worked his tongue around her, his facial hair only adding to her sensations.

"you taste so fucking good," he pulled away for a minute, and she looked up to watch him conjuring up spit. "i could stay here all fucking night."

she moaned, tipping her head back and getting lost in the feeling of him. she'd never experienced head like this before, and she couldn't quite contain herself. his hands moved from her thighs down to her bum, where one massaged the flesh and the other trailed up to where she needed attention the most.

"are you sure you can handle this? hm?" he cooed, pulling his lips away from her clit and causing her to cry out, "i don't know if you're ready."

"i am," she pouted, "please, lewis."

he smirked, and with that he pressed two fingers inside of her, and immediately she began to clench. "see, i told you i'd have you begging."

his fingers inside of her felt surreal, the way they hit every ridge and curve so well and slid through her wetness. she was dripping down his hand, she knew it, and she showed no shame. his fingertips curled and when they tickled her g-spot she flinched, her legs shooting outwards with a mind of their own.

"god, fucking hell if you keep on doing that i'm gonna cum."

lewis kissed at the inside of her thigh as he continued to fuck her with his fingers, "what did i tell you earlier about your manners, darling? they really are atrocious."

"i-i'm sorry," she mumbled, "please can i...?"

"please can you what, Y/N?"

she frowned for a second but she was whipped into shape quickly when he slapped her thigh. "please can i cum?"

"see," lewis kissed her clit and made her jolt, "that really wasn't so hard, was it baby?"

she shook her head, and when lewis' movements sped up, she saw it as her sign to cum. her legs trembled and her back arched off of the armchair, and she came hard and fast all over his fingers. he looked up at her with hooded eyes as she came down from her orgasm, her arms were over her head tugging at the armchair cushion and her back was still arched. she looked fucked out already, and her heavy breathing made him hard as a rock.

he knew he needed her now, no more waiting. he had to be inside of her, he wanted to make everyone in the rooms surrounding him know he could pleasure a woman right.

she felt a buzz in her stomach at the manhandling. lewis had picked her up from her state on the armchair and pushed her onto all fours on the adjoining sofa.

"do you still believe that i don't have what it takes, sweetheart?"

she turned her face round to look at him, and when he pulled his shirt off to reveal a body full of tattoos, she almost died on the spot. he knew she was checking him out, and he couldn't help but flex a little as he weaved his belt out of his trousers, and when she shook her head with a smirk on her face, she knew she was in trouble.

"well i think you're a fucking liar." he grabbed at her neck and squeezed the flesh softly until she made an audible choking sound, and then he released her. she continued to admire him through hazy eyes, and when he stood completely naked behind her she almost felt her knees give way.

he lined himself up with her and pushed in all the way, leaving her almost screaming at the fullness. he left her no time to properly adjust to his size before he pulled out and slid back inside her again with ease.

"oh, fuck, lewis," she cried out, her head throwing back. he grabbed ahold of her hips and squeezed at the flesh of her bum, slapping and kneading it between his hands. "you're so fucking big."

he left a slap to her bum once more. he enjoyed the ego boost.

"so fucking tight," he grunted as he continued to thrust, each time getting deeper and deeper, "your boyfriend really doesn't fuck you right, does he baby? hm?"

"no," she whined, a yelp of pain drawn from her lips when he wrapped his hand around her hair and used it as leverage, too. "only you, lewis."

he slapped her bum again. "that's the right fucking answer, only i can fuck you this good," his hips were slamming against her bum now, and lewis watched the constant loop of recoils that took place in front of him. "isn't that right, baby? hm? you're never gonna go to anybody else, that pussy's all mine, isn't it?"

"n-no, sir," she choked out, and lewis audibly growled, "nobody else. yours."

he laughed at her garbled nonsense. "good girl, you sound so pretty now that there's not a thought left in that pretty little head."

Y/N knew she wasn't going to last much longer, and lewis could tell because of the wet sounds her pussy was making as he fucked her, and the way she clenched him like a vice every time he pulled back out.

"gonna cum for me, Y/N?" he left a slap to her bum and pulled her right up against his chest by her hair, until he managed to wrap an arm around her torso and lock her in with his strength. her arms wrapped around his neck and she tugged at his dreads. "come on, baby. i know you can."

his free hand reached around and strummed at her clit, leaving her no wiggling room. the overstimulation became too much, and as lewis' lips bit down on her earlobe, she squirted all around him, her pussy clenching and convulsing uncontrollably as she screamed and rode out her high.

it took everything in lewis not to cum inside of her then and there, but he knew he needed restraint. he needed to be careful.

he pulled out of her and she fell limp, but lewis manhandled her once again, "don't think you're finished yet, baby," he pushed the strands of sweaty hair from her face over to the side of her neck, "i wanna see my dick in your pretty mouth first."

she hummed, and took as much of him in her mouth as she could, and lewis couldn't help but thrust his hips. the contractions of her throat gagging around him made his groan, and he had to suck in deep breaths every time he pushed back into her mouth.

spit trickled down Y/N's chin and pooled at her knees on the floor as she sucked at him sloppily. the movements of her tongue combined with his thrusts down her throat meant he wasn't going to last long.

"hold still," lewis said, bunching her hair up into a ponytail with his hand and fucking her face, the noises falling from her mouth at the sensation enough to make him groan. "fu-uck, that's it. good girl."

one hand fell to her cheek and she looked up at him as his dick slipped in and out of her mouth, and he couldn't hold it in any longer. he pressed the base of his dick flush against her tongue, and admired her pretty face as beads of cum landed on her tongue, nose and cheeks.

she gathered it all up on her tongue and he watched as she let it drool from the tip and trickle down onto her chest, merging with her spit and sweat. he'd never been more ready for another round in his life.

Y/N sat back on her heels and when lewis held out a hand for her to get up, her legs wobbled and she had to wait several moments before they regained usage.

"thank you," she smiled, wiping her chin, "i've not had sex that good in a long time."

"ditto," lewis smiled. the pair of them sat back on the sofa in silence, enjoying the company of the other person. "if you want to stay, you can."

"thank you," she smiled again, a sincere, almost apologetic smile. "i'd love that, but i think i need to shower before i make my mind up."

he nodded, and rose to his feet with an outstretched arm, "come with me, i'll help you clean yourself up."

[son-of-anubis]

Pre-payment

Billy x Brothel Worker MALE reader

Warning: prostitution, reference to other consumers that are not so nice, panic at being outed, and panic at being murdered (?), oral (because I still haven't figured out how to write actual sex without sounding stupid), some talk of saliva

A/N: It felt like people appreciated the last one so I thought I could try to write another idea i had!

Sometimes I questioned why I even stayed here. The room was filled with old fuckers just wanting something warm to help get their rocks off.

Disgraces with a false gentlemen attitude and some money to spare. The occasional woman who wanted to be treated like a princess for once.

The brothel lighting hurt my eyes and I prayed that the whiskey-blur would take away my headache. Looking around at the lightly clad women I sighed. The young men like myself rarely mingled. We got introduced as barbacks mostly. With the opinion people held on woman visiting such places, and especially men being with men it was obviously that we were a 'special request' item. 

I could hear the doors swing open once more, loud voices demanding attention. A quick glance and I could see a blond man leading the pack. 

With quick strides towards the Madam he demanded 7 of her best whores, and he sure had the funds to back it up. 

The man made eye contact with me and I tried to look away as nonchalantly as possible.

"Hey, boy! You had your fun yet?" blondie shoutet in his direction. 

Had he? Mr. Redding had been in, he is always quite gentle, in his own way. Mrs. Bowen and her friend was also in for a visit. That went fine. In my mind I suddenly remembered that Mr. Archer had mentioned his plan to join me later that evening. 

The violent shudder was impossible to contain. If I could avoid Mr. Archer I would. The pain and fear was not worth the money if I could find time somewhere else.

I was fully aware they thought me just another patron. So I carefully said: "I ain't got the money for that."

"Aye, we got some for you, todays good deed, huh? Help ya pop your cherry!" the brunette next to blondie said, laughing.

I nodded in fake glee, maybe I could score some time with Lola, give her the night off to, I knew she worked to much since her kid got sick.

"Names Jessie." so not blondie, eh. 

"Most people call me Angel." It was for the best to say, no way I was giving out my name to some outlaws.

The buggy ride wasn't to bad. Me, Lola and Caroline was chatting. They took great amusement in me 'losing my cherry' this evening. I couldn't help the chuckle leaving my mouth. Yeah, it was pretty funny.

The 3 men up front started hollering, being met with equal enthusiasm somewhere in the near distance. 

As the wagon stopped, a group of maybe 12 men came into view, all dripping in machismo. Fucking losers if you asked me. 

My gaze stopped as ice blue eyes met mine. The shaggy brown hair under a worn and torn hat. He was absolutely beautiful....and probably would spend the night with one of the women. The reminder was not a fun one, but it was the way of life.

Caroline launched herself at the nearest outlaw and the others followed suit. I made my way at the back of the group, walking over to the open fire. 

I nodded at the people going into the cabin before departing, making sure they where okay with the current arrangement, but it was good money so I knew noone was actually going to protest.

The evening air was sticky and I grabbed the cup closes to me. Moonshine. That would do.

The giggling and moaning started soon after, but at this point in my life it was basically white noise.

They vague sound of footsteps approached, stopping next to me. As I cast a glace upwards I was met with blue. An involuntary shiver fell down my back. God he was gorgeous. 

"May I?" he asked, the drawl wasn't as worn in as most, he probably was not born in the west. 

I gestured to the rickedy chair next to me. 

"What's your name, sugar?" maybe the nickname was over the line, but half the excitement had always been toying between making men uncomfortable and getting beaten up.

The man lifted an eybrow but still answered.

"William Bonney, but you can call me Billy if you want." Billy tilted his head slightly, sizing me up, see if I was a threat. I really wasn't, and had never been, else I would never have gotten into this profession. "And what might yours be?"

The intense sensation of wanting to tell him my real name washed over me. Damn his hotness, I was always a sucker, metaphorically and literally, for charming people. 

"....people call me Angel." Oh shit, that hesitation could be heard a mile away. 

Billy looked at me, more like stared at me, for what felt like forever.

"You a.....worker?"

How the fuck did he spot that. Noone ever did, why the fuck did he? And why would he ask? I am dead. 

The panic in my chest hurt and I tried to keep my breathing even. 

Billy looked at me, expecting an answer and for some reason, I blame panic, I nodded. My eyes darted around wildly, I was going to die, and in the middle of nowhere. I was going to be murdered by Billy the fucking Kid. Oh fuck.

A hand lands on my shoulder and my eyes meet with Billys. He looked, concerned? Why?

"m'not telling anyone." he said, the cadence somthing you would use to calm a feral dog. 

He started rubbing my shoulder, and I found myself trying to match my breathing to his. 

The moments passed slowly, with me calming down at snail pace. The universe seemed aligned as we somehow gravitated towards each other, inching closer and closer until Billy had his arm around my shoulder. 

I looked up at him, sapphire piercing my soul. Time stopped as I leaned in, and with uncertainty and slight hesitance Billy did the same.

----------------------------------------

My back hit the cold wood of the shed as Billys tounges invaded my mouth. In our drunken stupor the saliva seemed abundant but neither of us minded the messiness. 

Billys hand found the back och my thigh, urging me to jump. He caught me effortlessly, wrapping my legs around his waist. As we pulled away for a breath a string of saliva briefly connected us.

"$10 for the hour, $25 for the night." i recited. I would be stupid to think this was anything other than a transactional affair, even if it without a doubt would be a hell of a lot better than Mr. Archer would have been.

Billy scoffed but dug out what looked like $50 from his pants.

He must have seen the confusion on my face as he flashed a quick grin.

"Pre payment, if you're good for it, 'cause next time I see you, I ain't keeping off ya."

My entire body heated up as Billy carried me over to some hay. He used his foot to kick some type of old fabric over it and unceromoniously threw me on it.

Quickly undressing without breaking eye contact and my eyes wandered the outlaws figure. He was lean and lanky, but also very obviously strong.

And as our clothing was completely gone my eyes traveled further down. Fuck. Ain't no way that beauty of a cock was fitting without some grease, and as far as I were aware, we had none. But never the less, the heat and spark of arousal fuled me even more.

When my eyes once again landed on his face it looked almost bashful, like he didn't know what to do with himself. It was a stark contrast to the overt confidence he had just minutes ago. 

I made the decision to initiate further and crawled my way over to him. Grabbing him softly, feeling him pulse in my hand, I gave his dick a experimentative lick from base to tip. I heard Billy draw in a sharp breath and as we locked eyes I put his tip in my mouth. 

I licked up the pre cum that landed on my tounge and swirled it around a bit. 

Hollowing my cheeks I plunged down, taking as much as possible of him. 

The bobbing started slow but quicked as we got comfortable. 

His hand slowly crept into my hair, giving an almost shy push, and I tried to take even more of his leangth. The gagging happened almost immediately.

"Ain't have to do it, ya know." Billy spoke in a gruff tone, sounding out of breath. 

I rolled my eyes before pulling out some, deep inhale, eyes closing, and finally slow dip. More, more, more. The gagging was easy enough to control. Before I knew it my nose hit a fuzzy patch. I looked up at Billy, tears streaming down my face, and was met with a man at the brink of insanity. 

Billys eyes held a haze that would disgust me if it was any other patron, but at this very moment I felt nothing but pride. I did that. If I could smile I would.

I felt the first small thrust and had to once again close my eyes to control the gag. But I still managed to give him a somewhat nod, consenting for further exploration. 

The thrusting started almost lazy, but quickly picked up. Billy using my hair as make shift reigns. The curses that left the mans mouth was foul but sounded oh so heavenly. In the mids of it all I heard "Angel" and tapped his thighs. Billy let me up with a shocked expression.

"Did I hurt ya? Didn't mean t......"

"Y/N." I interupted. The confusion grew on Billys face, still looking down on me on my knees, still with a hand in my hair. I pulled myself closer to his cock again, mouth open and ready as I expressed:

"My name, it's Y/N, call me that, please." 

I didn't care how desperate it sounded, I wanted him to praise my name the way it was supposed to be. Y/N the man, not Angel the whore.

Billy seemed taken aback for only a second before growling my name and pushing me back down on him. 

The pace seemed impossibly faster but the atmosphere was also much more intimate. I knew he was nearing the end and I started to periodically tighten my throat as much as I could. 

As I felt Billy start to pull away I buried my face in his pubic hair, clutching the back of his thighs. 

I felt his cum sliding down my throat, warm and smooth. Billy sinfully moaning above me. This was as perfect as a night could get, I was sure of it.

Pulling away, Billys knees buckled slightly, and I grinned up at him. 

He slowly sat down on the floor of the shed, coming down from his high. 

His hand made a vague gesture towards me and I shook my head.

"You're not gonna put that in me without any help," we shared a chuckle "but maybe you could put your mouth on mine again, cowboy?" 

Billy embraced me once again as we fell back onto the hay, but this time the kiss was much more controlled. 

"Once I'm ready for round 2, you're gonna forget everything that ain't my name, that good for you Y/N?" the teasingly cocky tone made me laugh, but I agreed anyway.

Definitely better than Mr. Archer.

[romanoffsbish]

Do I Know You?

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Request: lil anon.

Natasha loved you, that much she knew, but the closer your binding nuptials came the more she felt a need to run. So, that’s exactly what she does, but when she returns a year later nothing was the same. You were made to forget her, and in turn your once blooming love that she’s desperate to reignite.

Warnings: Alluded to Violence/Brainwashing. Heartbreak. Feigned Amnesia. (Happy Ending)

Alluded to Smut | 18+ | Minors DNI

"Another one?" Natasha nodded with a wince, she could already feel a headache drawing on from the excess amount of liquor she's downed thus far, but she deemed it her underwhelming punishment for what she did to you today.

For breaking your heart, time and time again she chose the life of superhero over you, even when she didn't need to. It's not like you didn't understand the mission here or there, you too were an Avenger who understood that duty calls, a few missed dates caused little harm.

There's got to be a line drawn though, and you expected that she knew your wedding was one of those times, but she practically begged Fury to let her onto a mission, in front of your face like your feelings didn't matter; she refused to believe you when you said it was the last straw.

——

So, she very well placated you, lying with too much ease about turning it back down after all, and for a few short days it was back to bliss. Natasha held you so close, cherishing you because she knew she'd have to fight to get you back when she returned, but she needed time.

It all went swimmingly until you were standing alone at the altar, all your mutual friends were sat in shock at the sight of a gap where your blushing bride should've been, but wasn't. 

So now she's drowning her sorrows in a bottle of whiskey in some foreign country because she  likely ruined the one good thing she's ever had.

——

Natasha's foot tapped against the bottom of the Quinjet anxiously, it'd been a year since she left, every time she pleaded with Fury to stop extending the mission it's like he doubled it.

She had a plan: take the three months to fix herself while doing what she's best at, then come home and make it all right with you.

However plans never seem to work out in her favor, and she is drowning in self deprecating thoughts as she ponders if you've forgiven her.

Did you meet someone else? Are they taking up the right side of the bed in your shared room?

Natasha bit her lip at the painful thought.

Will she be able to undo the pain she caused? Can she convince you to forgive her just this additional time, and promise it'll be different?

She will beg down on her knees if she has to.

Will she be different? Or will she just pretend until she can't anymore, and fall back into running away whenever she began to feel like she couldn't possibly live without you.

She's never needed anyone before, it terrifies her to need you, but she can't fight it anymore.

No, that much she knew was over. Because in the year she was forced to be without you it became rather apparent that she was correct. Living without you was a miserable experience; not hearing your giggles in the middle of the night when you should both be sleeping, or to not have you tucked into her, safe and sound.

Natasha realized that everything she was running from was everything she ever wanted. Loving you wasn't a burdening thing like her past tried to convince her it was, she was not about to be tied down and have her will taken. No, she was just signing up for a life with you by her side, and she realizes now that she has to fix this because now she can't imagine her life any other way then with you as her wife.

As soon as the jet landed she was racing off to find you, and once she reached the kitchen her search was over. There you stood with a mug in hand talking to Wanda in your Stitch pajamas. Natasha moved on impulse, her body needed to feel yours, so she catapulted into you without a second thought on as to if she was allowed to.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, please forgive me," she sobbed into your shirt, and you froze upon feeling her tears seep through to your chest.

"I'm sorry, but do I know you?" Natasha froze, entire body tensing as you spoke, because the tone you used was one of innocence, and not one full of malice or contempt. You were asking her an honest question, and it terrified her.

"I'm your fiancée?"

"Were," Wanda softly corrected with a glare fixated upon the absolute mess of a woman.

"I'm so confused..." you whispered, and the woman pulled away from your hold, the one you graciously allowed her to remain in with a deep frown, and eyes glistening with tears.

"You don't remember me?" Natasha shakily asked, her arms now wrapping around her body as she took tentative steps backwards.

"I know who you are," you admitted, "Just not how you're supposed to be important to me."

Natasha nodded, then before you could break her heart any further she was taking off to her old room so that she could be sick.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"I thought all your memories came back?"

"They did," you replied with a saddened smile, "But I don't know if I want to remember her."

—

After crying herself into a restless nap Natasha woke up with a start, hand flying out to grasp you to pull you close but she was reminded for the umpteenth time that you weren't there.

Nothing made sense before without you, but after seeing you it makes even less sense, and in order to get answers Natasha jumped up and ran to Fury for them, and as she drove closer to Shields headquarters she fears her continued mission extensions were intermixed with why.

"Agent Romanoff, welcome home," the stoic man greets without even looking up, he didn't need to with the way she slammed his door into the wall without a shred of remorse.

"What happened to Y/N?"

"And here I thought you were here with completed mission reports, and detailed ones at that since I heard you sustained an injury."

"Stop giving me the fucking run around Nick."

"You broke her heart, and that trickled into a long winded year of saving the poor girl."

"From what?"

"Hydra."

Natasha's knees gave out, causing her body to fall into the mans couch with a tightness in her chest. "Nick, what are you saying? I-I don't understand, what happened? If she was in danger why didn't anyone tell me? Is this why my fucking mission was pointlessly extended?"

"I haven't the time to offer you explanations, I'm needed elsewhere, but to make a long story short—yes, we didn't need you in the way in a fit of remorseful hysteria as we found her," the man revealed as he dropped a huge file on the table then looked her straight in the eye, "Not to mention she told everyone before she was ever taken captive that if you were to ask about her no one was ever allowed to indulge you."

Fury left as soon as the words left him, and the redhead shakily reached for the thick files. Knots formed in the pit of her stomach the more she read, the papers were thorough, not a single bit of information was spared. Starting with your failed nuptials that led to you going on the honeymoon alone and being kidnapped.

Natasha left you in a vulnerable headspace, costing you six months of your life, she basically led Hydra right to you, and she felt sick to her stomach at the notion. Love isn't mean to cause pain, and yet that's all she's done to you; therefore your lost memories of her love was her burden to carry going forward.

——

It'd been a week since Natasha had been back, nobody would even spare her a glance, so she hid out on the unused floor of the compound. Until one morning when she was informed by Friday that the team had left the compound. Something about an impromptu mission that she was to sit out of due to her recent injury.

The same injury you heard about through the grapevine, and you honestly felt responsible. Had they let her come home on time she would have avoided her last forced sparring session. Then her torn calf wouldn't be on your conscience, and you wouldn't be watching the poor woman struggle to make her sandwich.

"Need some help?"

Natasha jumped, making the pain in her leg worse as it shot through her body and sent her tumbling backwards, but fortunately you were there to catch her, "Falling for me are we?"

Mentally you slapped yourself for saying that, her lip wobbled ever so slightly, most people would've missed it, but you never could. No matter what happened, you'd always be in tune with the woman who still held your heart captive after all this time and the heartbreak.

"I'm okay, thanks though," she politely declined, then with as much strength as she could muster she stood upright again, and shifted to face the counter to hide her tears.

"Natasha, I know what happened, Wanda told me," you told a partial truth, it was the witch that restored your memories months ago, but you wouldn't be letting Natasha know yet, if you were ever going to trust her again, she needed to prove to you she was really sorry.

"Oh," she whispered, the knife clattering on the counter drowning her voice out, "I'm sorry."

The tone of her voice wasn't something you'd grown used to, even after three years together she had yet to ever be this vulnerable with you.

"Hey, it's okay Nat, I'm sure you had a reason."

Natasha stilled when your hand settled on her lower back, she didn't deserve your sympathy.

"Y/N, please, you don't have to forgive me, if it wasn't for my cowardice you wouldn't be in the mess that you're in," Natasha shakily stated, her inability to reel her emotions in truly did shock you, and it was clear to you how broken up over the entire situation she is—as she should be, but it also pains you to see how she blames herself for what happened to you, even if the team agreed, you never once blamed her.

You've had a long time to think the whole situation over, and if you could go back in time you would, in a heartbeat. You'd have slowed down, caught on to her fight or flight response slowly building up and gave her the space she needed, hell you would've even postponed the wedding if she would have only asked. It was the secrets and blatant lying that did you in.

"That's the thing Natasha, I already did," you whispered as you pulled her in for a hug, one that you craved just as much as she did, but the desperation was only visualized from her end. Natasha clung to you like you were still her lifeline, because deep down you always will be.

"I'm sorry," you spoke, and she pulled away with a deep frown full of defiance, "No, you've got nothing to apologize for Y/N, not at all!"

"It's my fault you're hurt Natasha, they told me they wouldn't let you come home," your voice wavered with a concern she didn't expect,  but nonetheless she appreciated, "and now that you're back you've being unfairly isolated."

"Hey, hey," Natasha cupped your cheeks when she saw you losing hold of your composure, an all too familiar intimacy that you leaned into within an instant, making the redheads heart flicker with a bit of hope, "They had every right to keep me away, and to keep their distance. I didn't just steal Thor's poptarts krasivaya, I broke your heart, and that's worthy of all this."

You chuckled, "Thor does love his poptarts."

"Yeah, and the team, me included, love you."

An awkward silence fell over the both of you as you remained connected in a loose embrace. Only to be broken when Natasha gazed at your lips with a hunger you recognized as futile. Though you wanted to kiss her just as bad, you couldn't let her back in just yet, so you gently let her go, and nudged her out of your way.

"Sit, I'll make you a proper lunch."

Natasha went to refute your offer, but the way you looked at her made her back down, and at the sound of her relieved sigh as she settled on the stool you smiled in triumph. Natasha never let you take care of her like this before, most of the time she'd glare at you for even insinuating she wasn't capable of doing so; she'd cook eggs on the stove while bleeding out just to prove a point. Literally, once Bruce had to stitch her up as she passive-aggressively fixed dinner.

This wasn't much, but it was a start, and you were hopeful this wasn't a temporary thing. That her injury isn't the reason she's allowing you in like this, and that it's who she became while she was away. It made you think, that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope for you.

—

The mission the team went on ended up turning into quite the doozy. What was meant to be an overnight became a three month long undercover mission. So in that time you were left to either your solitude or Nat's company.

For the first month she herself kept a bit of distance between the two of you. After she was so close to pouncing on you in the kitchen she felt it was the best option. It wasn't fair for her to look at you like you belonged to her, when you didn't even know who she was anymore outside of the rumors, and the harsh truths.

It wasn't until you purposefully set your alarm for four in the morning so you could corner her in the kitchen that she was given no choice but to spend time with you. Neither of you said much, you gently nodded to the mugs on the counter and she graciously accepted the offer.

"Thank you," she hummed, her distinct rasp you'd grown to love in the mornings much smoother as the warm drink coated her throat.

"Don't thank me yet, you have yet to try my omelette," You watched in amusement as the redhead's eyes widened and her head instinctively shook in the negatory. "Um, I'm not hungry, but thank you, really it's kind."

You deadpanned, "Your stomach growled."

Natasha sighed in defeat, begrudgingly she accepted the extended plate, tentatively she cut off an edge, then she moaned at the flavor.

"No fucking way, Y/N, that's delicious!"

"You seem shocked," you gasped with a hand on your chest in feigned offense.

"It's just, my Y/N couldn't even crack an egg."

It's true, Natasha used to do all the cooking after she rescued you from Hydra the first time, but in her absence you had to learn.

"Well consider me the superior Y/N then."

You watched regretfully as your words struck the redhead far deeper than you'd intended.

"Natasha, I—," she cut you off with a warm, albeit hurt smile, "I'm actually in a rush, I have physical therapy today, I'll catch you later."

As the redhead ran away, again, you found your heart was aching at the distance you just reaffirmed with your careless attempt to joke. It wasn't a lie, ever since your failed attempt to wed you were forced to become a more well rounded person, but that didn't need to be a new point of guilt for the redhead to bare.

You finished off her omelette, then retreated back to your room, you'd try again tomorrow.

—

The following day you saw Natasha on the couch, her injured leg was on an ottoman, while the other was curled beneath her as she read a book: Girl in Pieces, it was one you got her for her birthday when she mentioned she needed more to read, it was also your not so subtle way of trying to get her to see your pain.

It warmed your heart to see her actually read it, but really what caught your eye was the hoodie she wore as she flipped the pages. The light grey that swallowed the petite woman was one of yours, it was rather new actually, and even if you were meant to be upset that she stole from a Y/N who didn't know her, you just weren't.

Knowing that on some level she still needed you kept that burning hope that never died alive. Natasha always looked beautiful wearing your clothes, whether it be your hoodie with sweats or an oversized tee paired with her lacy panties. There was nothing she couldn't pull off, but in most scenarios you did, discarding the fabrics on your bedroom floor to feel her.

It was easy to admire her really, the way the sun filled the nearly empty room and reflected off of her was nothing short of angelic. She wore a pensive expression, brows furrowed with lips pursed, and eyes focused as if the words were inspiring her to think critically.

"So, why is it you're not on the mission?"

Natasha giggled when you jumped, of course she knew you were there, she slipped her bookmark between the crisp pages, then gave all of her attention to you with a soft smile.

"Um, I am not exactly cleared to go out yet," you quietly replied as you sat on the couch across from hers, "Not since I got powers."

Natasha's face fell when your hand raised to show the materialization of blue sparks, you were never supposed to be in this situation. Natasha remembers the day she saved you from the fate you eventually still endured.

You'd been so scared when she stumbled upon you in a high tech cage with glass for walls. Hydra had only had you for a few weeks, it was enough time to start their trials, but they only succeeded in altering your physical strength. Now though, they'd given you the powers you never wanted, and now she wanted to cry.

"Oh Y/N," she couldn't bare to see you like this, knowing it was her fault only made it worse. The guilt swimming behind her eyes made you frown just the same, "It's not your fault Nat."

"It kinda is," she replies instantly, "If I wasn't a coward, had I not ran, you would've never been alone for them to take. We'd be truly happy, but more importantly you would be safe."

"Why did you?" Natasha's frown only deepened as you asked the looming question, "Why run?"

"I-It wasn't exactly a choice," she starts, her hands reflexively clenched, before she tightly clasped them together, "It was fight or flight."

The vague answer she gave honestly upset you, you know she was scared, but for her to have such a fearful biological response to you hurt.

"What did I do wrong?"

Natasha shook her head, her brimming tears falling as she did, "Nothing, you were perfect."

"I don't understand."

Natasha's knuckles cracked as she reflexively tightened her grasp, the idea of being this honest scared her, but you also deserved to know, even if you weren't truly you anymore.

"I'm not a good person Y/N," now it was your turn to clench your fists, this undeserved self loathing mantra of hers always infuriated you.

"That's simply not true Natasha, we've all made choices we weren't proud of, I know you're not a bad person, my heart knows that much."

"I broke that heart, it should despise me."

"Well it doesn't, so stop willing it to."

"Why?" her voice cracked, she looked unsure of what she was asking, but she asked anyway.

"I'm destined to love you, I don't have it in me to hate you Natasha, trust me, I already tried."

A wave of clarity washed over her, there was a storm behind her green eyes, and the way you could see her heart breaking devastated you.

"Natasha—"

"I can't believe you lied to me like this..."

Even with an injured leg she was still able to evade your grasp, and escape on the elevator.

"You left me at the altar, but I'm the bad guy?" You huffed to yourself like a petulant child, and  stormed off to your room via the many stairs.

—

A loud knock on your door woke you up, you groaned, all you wanted to do after earlier's fight was sleep the rest of the day away, but it appears the redhead wasn't done berating you.

With a scowl to rival her expected one you opened the door, but all you found was a box with your name on it signed from Natasha.

"I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me for earlier's blow out, you've got every right not to, but I hope you do understand I felt blindsided. If you don't, I hold no grudges, and I promise I will leave the compound as soon as possible so you can be comfortable. But if you do, please meet me in the training room at 8."

With the note read you untied the ribbon, then you opened the box to find a customized suit, it was primarily black, but there were these gorgeous waves of varying shades of blue going down the sides of the breathable latex material.

A soft smile graced your face as you ran your hands over the piece, it made you feel special, but more importantly it gave you a feeling of belonging again. For months now they've been too afraid to utilize you in combat, they were worried about the unknown capabilities of course, but you also knew they just didn't want to put you in danger, but that wasn't exactly their choice to keep making. Nat understood.

After less than a minute deliberating you were slipping into the suit you know she spent the last few hours making in Tony's lab for you. Then you made your way down to the gym just in time to find her perching herself atop of a miniature board in a carnival-esque dunk tank.

"Natasha, what is all of this?"

"Well, I see that you are either hesitant to use your powers, or the team is benching you, and in either scenario I want to help you undo it."

"You're injured, are you sure this is safe?"

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Y/N, it is a tiny pool of water, what could you possibly do to me?"

"I could drown you."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," she winked and smirked at you in that dopey way that usually has you crumbling to your knees.

Now it was you rolling your eyes, "Romanoff, what am I even expected to do with this?"

"Whatever your heart desires Y/N: use the water beneath me to pull me in, freeze the water as it exits your hands and throw the ice blocks at the target, or use a water stream."

All was going well, before you began to dunk Natasha in the tank you focused more on your breathing, and the overall serenity one needs to feel to remain under control. Once you felt at peace, something you knew deep down came when Natasha smiled at you, and encouraged you with praises, you began to formulate tiny balls of water, then you upped the ante and focused on chilling them until you had ice.

However, after you dunked her for the tenth time you could see something was wrong, she stayed under the water longer than normal, and judging by the influx of bubbles you knew she was screaming in pain. Something she felt she needed to keep from you as she rose out of the water with a tight lipped smile as she reset the seat and clambered back on with a struggle.

“Timeout,” you shouted while running over to the redhead who was failing to hide her pain, which meant it was likely a drastic feeling.

"Oh come on Y/N, we were just getting warmed up," the redhead frowned, "Or cooled down?"

“Nat, I saw you screaming in pain,” you admit, but she shrugged, “What is life if not painful?”

“I’m fine,” she tried again, but the truth was she was the furthest thing from it, but she didn’t want to present as incapable, or or weak, and she just didn’t want to let you down again.

"Natasha, please just be honest with me," you sighed, hand falling over hers as it sits over her calf, "If we're going to fix us, you have to be."

Natasha met your worried gaze with a tearful one of her very own, "W-we can fix this?"

It shocked you to see her so unsure, telling you that she was helping you without expectations. Letting you train with her because she knew you better than anyone else, and she knew you were scared of what you have become. It was endearing, and reminded you of the Natasha that you fell in love with all those years ago.

"It won't be the way it was overnight Natasha, but if you're here, as in no more running when scared, and you're honest, we can get us back."

"Okay," she timidly whispered with a nod, followed up by a shaky exhale, "The therapist said I need surgery, but I'm terrified Y/N/N."

"Oh love," you lifted her hand up to your lips to deposit a gentle kiss, "I am so sorry it's not getting better on its own, I know you hate the hospital, and being put under even more so."

"I can't do it, I don't want to—I won't."

You gently lifted her off the platform of the dunk tank so you could hold her in your arms, "Yes you will baby, because you are one of the strongest people I've ever known, and if it'll help you, I'll be right there the whole time."

"Really?" her hands gripped you over the suit in an attempt to garner a semblance of reason, and you smiled at the way she used you to ground herself like this, "Of course, you're not ever going to be alone if you don't want to be."

"Never again," she whispered the promise, "This is where I want to be for the rest of time."

"Funny," you smirked down at her, your right hand cupped her cheek, "I was thinking the same thing," you pulled her in for a kiss, her parted lips swallowed your sudden giggle as she eagerly moved to deepen the reunion kiss.

"However, the bed might be more comfortable, what do you think?" Natasha whimpered hotly as you bit into her lower lip, "Please detka..."

—

“I told you it’d work,” Tony boasts, and the little witch rolls her eyes while filling her duffle bag up with a discernible quickness, “No, you said ‘why does it matter’ and ‘this isn’t my problem’ when Clint and I suggested this.”

“Well, initially, yeah, but I changed my tune.”

“Yeah, like five minutes ago when Natasha fell into the water with a cry and Y/N ran to her,” Steve bemoaned while starting up the jet so they could ‘return a month and a half early because they were just so incredibly efficient.’

———

4,572 Words

[youregunnabemine]

CHAPTER ONE; "Protection fee, really?"

{Y/N} sighed, cracking her knuckles. She had been working as a bartender at a particularly.. unkind place. It reeked of blood, gun powder, and unsurprisingly; booze. {Y/N} would be lying if she said she enjoyed any of it. Whenever she'd get an order, from a man, he'd usually slip in some lewd comment on her body, ask if she was free after her shift, something along those sort of lines. It sickened {Y/N} to her core. She wasn't strong enough for this, couldn't handle it the way most of her friends managed to, the way anyone did. Not that she was weak or something, she could hold her own in a fight if she truly needed to, and she certainly knew how to put someone in their place. A small smile tugged at {Y/N}'s lips as she saw Laurel, the blue haired girl striding over to her. "Hey, {Y/N]!" she greeted with a big grin. "Same as usual?" Without waiting for her answer, she had already begun to pour Laurels drink she always got. Whiskey, no ice. Simple, but Laurel would talk about it as if it'd bring you to heaven. Not that {Y/N} paid mind to her praise towards the drink. To be honest, she wasn't much of a drinker. Don't get her wrong, she'd drink sometimes, but wasn't too keen on being drunk, even if she wasn't alone. She had heard of her friends getting into nasty accidents, or having bad things happen under the influence of a stiff drink or two. She didn't want to become one of the women in an cautionary story.

"So, didya' hear they're gunna be putting in a protection fee?" Laurel suddenly asked, an annoyed expression on her pretty face. {Y/N} gasped, horror finding it's way onto her expression, "No!" Laurel laughed, nodding, "Yeah! Fuckin' stupid if you ask me," Her voice went quiet, her eyes darting around the room, "..Y'know, I think we should get outta here sometime. Just us." Laurel grinned again, chugging the rest of her Whiskey. A scoff escaped {Y/N} and she rolled her eyes "We both know neither of us make enough to do so, Laurel." She said in a matter-of-factly sort of tone, eliciting a groan from the blue haired woman, "Oh, c'mon, {Y/N}! Have some hope!" "Oh, yeah, like hope you'll pay your tab?" Laurel gasped at this, furrowing her eyes, "{Y/N}! Have faith in a gal! I always keep my word." {Y/N} merely snorted, shaking her head. A few small grumbles left Laurel before she set her glass down and stood, "Well, whateva'. I'm heading out." She paused, leaning forward with her eyebrows raised, "Mind givin' me some cash?" A light blush appeared on {Y/N}'s cheeks, and she scoffed, shaking her head, "Banks closed, Laurel." Laurel snapped her fingers, chuckling, "Worth a shot, toots. Chao!" With that, Laurel walked out, waving her hand to {Y/N}. Laurel always brightened {Y/N]'s mood. More than a lot of her friends.

[synamartia]

First day of a stay-cation and I am in a GOOD FUCKING MOOD. NOTHING CAN STOP ME HAHAHA god i gotta chill tf out

Part 2, here we go~! ❤

♡ For all his efforts, he hadn't actually noticed you. While he tended to stay at the back of the room, you were always further back, on the balcony, at the bar. He went about enjoying his nightlife wholly unaware someone was watching. Because of this, he did things that were considered quite dangerous for a woman.

Baby's gettin' better at tailinggg~ 🎵

♡ Many more nights you buried your face into your pillow and thought about his hands on you, his breath at your ear. His "Shhh." You couldn't replicate the feeling. No matter how you tried.

GIRL SAME.

♡ Leaning in, you rested your hand on the hand he set on your hip and whispered into his ear, "Touch me again without my permission," you lifted his tie, a flirtatious move to anyone watching, "And the next time you see this tacky tie, you'll be shitting it out." You patted his chest. "Excuse me, I'll be right back."

♡ "Hands off, move along." The stranger flashed his identification papers, making the offender leave quickly with his head down. "Miss you need to be careful out here. There's been people missing from this ward. Pretty thing like you should be home."

Okay FIRST OFF-- *points up* We can look after ourselves. Second-- the FOREBODING FEELING I WAS JUST HIT WITH-- oooofffff 😭 Should I be scared? Worried?? aroused???

♡ I don't want this.

The fucking snort I let out at this line 😂

♡ "I don't care for liars." Alastor was in front of you before you could even shout from shock. You looked around him to see a crumpled body on the ground and a black car.

okay look, the fight part of my fight or flight instincts would've kicked in so hard right here like i would have decked him the second "I" left his mouth

♡ A waxed canvas was lining the inside, "Clever." You hadn't meant to say it out loud. He hummed happily at the compliment and you sank your teeth into the reaction. Everyone wants something; power, money, sex, praise. Find the right combination and even the toughest hearts would swing open.

You know what, I've always preferred the receiving end of the praise kink, but this line here got me wondering what the give feels like. 🤔 I'mma save this for when I get back to writing, try to explore it a bit~

♡ "Perhaps I should eat you?" He leaned close.

♡ His tongue as soft as his hands rolled over your own, every time your mouths pulled away and drew back together was thinning your frontal cortex. Alastor could taste the faint metallic tinge of the man's blood on your mouth, and he found his sleeping libido shiver awake. Always a fan of kissing, he now found his mind wandering to other parts of your body, other acts of affection, as he felt you'd call them.

yeeeEEAAAHHH BUDDY let's go! I. Am. Ready.

♡ "That's why I like you," a wink. "Wear comfortable shoes tomorrow." He flashed a smile, pushing his glasses up. Before you could question him he hopped into the car and drove off out of the back of the side street.

EUGH. WHY. *collapses in defeat* I have such a love-hate relationship with the slow burn. 😭

♡ He always took his time, sensing out those who were good candidates. The abhorrent, the abusers, the cruel. There was something so satisfying, deep in his gut, to watch a person with power over others cower in fear. The same eyes that relished in the pain they gave to those under their thumb shaking in realization the were now the prey. Begging for mercy they didn't afford others. Alastor sighed. He remembered your pained sob in the park, frustration and disappointment at his lack of reaction. Eyes fluttering closed, if you had gotten in the car you'd not be disappointed in him now.

CALLED IT not really

♡ Truth was he had enjoyed a whiskey and your songs for several months now, always at the seat closest to the door, out of sight and out of mind. His favorite of your casual dive bar digs were the trousers you occasionally wore. You looked so sharp.

I keep forgetting this is taking place around the time of the Great Depression and women wearing pants was considered SCANDELOUS back then. Love that you peppered small bits like this in there to remind readers of the timeline~ 👌❤

♡ "You," he leaned against the bar, "owe me a drink. And alcohol always pairs well with dance."

Oh, we owe you more than just a drink, dear.

♡ "Then talk to me like a man." Your glass made a thud as it hit the table. Alastor's eyes widened as they always did when you said something wildly amusing to him.

Do. It. do it do it do it--

♡ Alastor smirked, "Autumn Hind is not your real name. That is clearly a stage name."

Wait did I miss something? I'm stupid, what's the pun here--

♡ Swirling your drink in its crystal, you smiled, "It's a good one though, you have to admit." His brow cocked, not understanding. "Hind, a doe. And what do does do in the fall?" Your own brows rose suggestively.

Oh. OH-- okay okay i get it now 🙃

♡ He looked down now, eyes meeting yours gain, "That was before I knew how entertaining you could be."

Give us the chance and we'll show you just how entertaining we can be *eyebrow wiggle*

♡ His grin widened. "And your precision. One cut and that brute was down. It was remarkable." The hand holding your waist began to tighten. It egged you on, whether he intended it to or not, "I can appreciate the way you carry yourself." Your freehand ran across his vest, suit jacket left at the table, "I wish I could see more."

Oh. Oh no. Hazel, what have you done. You've awakened something DASTARDLY in me. HAZEL WHAT DID YOU DO--

♡ Alastor pulled you both from the wall and turned you, pressing your body into the sink. You were staring at your reflection, Alastor's eyes meeting yours in the mirror, "I'm happy to do many things for you... just not exactly what you're asking for; not right now. Not in this tiny dance hall bathroom."

asdfkjwlkjwf-- I'm banging my head against the wall rn but I love the slow burn, the chase so much AHHHHHH--

♡ "Okay, okay, affection received." You patted his head, pushing him away by his forehead. "Don't need to end the night in a paddy wagon."

oh Hazel you TEASE!! D':

♡ You turned around, partly acting like you didn't know him at all and partly hiding the way your face twisted. Unsure what exactly you two were doing, you didn't want to create hassle for either of you. Alastor laughed, "The very same! Alastor, it's a pleasure to meet you." With your back turned you couldn't see the woman's face, but she made a barely audible squeak.

I've never been the jealous type, especially when it comes to fictional characters. But the combination of your little tease just now, the caffeine from 4 monsters, and the heavy metal I got going on in the background right now has me ready to throw hands at words. WORDS, HAZEL. i love it give me more

*sprints to part 3* I SHOULD HAVE DONE THIS AGES AGO.

A Doe in Fall (part 2)

I have a terrible case of the big bad sads so enjoy part 2 earlier than I planned

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦

Part 2 Liar

You not-stalk Alastor for weeks but don’t find anything blackmail worthy to grab ahold of. But luckily (?) for you, a chance encounter pulls you deeper into his hobbies and therefore his scope of fascination. Most importantly, do murderers go on dates?

「Warnings/Promises: Smut, HumanAlastor x FemBurlesquerReader, Alastor eats pussy like beignets (MESSY), dancing, shoe stress, murder, dead body, food metaphors, stalking, masturbation, Tommy is a bad dude, allusion to coerced prostitution, praise kink?, public sex acts, stage name is a fucking pun GOTCHU BITCHES, Gluttony」

minors dni please

The nights you didn’t work were spent casually looking for Alastor. Not stalking, just …. pursuing. 

You found over the course of several weeks what places he never attended, and a few that he did like clockwork. As much as you wanted to approach him, you knew you’d end up checkmated again. You just wanted to observe the man, surely you’d see something you could use against him, something tangible.

What was he doing? Knife carrying smooth talker who fingers ladies in the park? There was more to him than you anticipated. That addictive adrenaline rush was calling you to chase him. You’d catch him in the act of whatever men like him did, and—- well, you’d figure it out then. Was he a mugger, maybe? The knife would make sense. But he disposed of bodies so well, a month and no mention of a corpse anywhere. You didn’t want to even touch the thought bubbling up in the back of your skull. It was getting louder and louder, heavier than the other thoughts.

A repeat killer.

You decided, somewhat foolishly, if he was a killer it would be best to know that information. So you needed to continue even if the cards all read death. Right? 

Right.

For all his efforts, he hadn’t actually noticed you. While he tended to stay at the back of the room, you were always further back, on the balcony, at the bar. He went about enjoying his nightlife wholly unaware someone was watching. Because of this, he did things that were considered quite dangerous for a woman.

Many nights you found yourself alone in wooded areas. Well, “alone”. 

During your casual stalking you found him to be quite pretty, in a sense. He walked smoothly, always had pressed and tailored suits. Slender fingers, wide shoulders, small waist. Fingers.

Many more nights you buried your face into your pillow and thought about his hands on you, his breath at your ear. His “Shhh.” You couldn’t replicate the feeling. No matter how you tried.

If all else failed, no juicy blackmail available, maybe just endear yourself to him. Bed him. Get the conquest done and let him go on with his little crime spree or whatever it was he was doing when you weren’t watching. Because so far all you’ve seen is a man who loves to dance and enjoys whiskey. 

After another show done, body sore, you did your tour of the theatre. Tommy was snapping his fingers at you from the bar, his attempt to tell you to come over. Every day he seemed to become more and more brutish.

“What can I do for ya?” You tried to keep a bounce in your step, arches aching. 

“I want you to meet someone.” Tommy turned to a small man at the bar, hair thinning and combed forward. You guessed in his sixties. “Give Mr. Wilson a warm welcome. He’s one of your most generous benefactors.”

You nodded, smile slipping as you mind started to consider what was happening. You had heard some girls were taking dates, offering private shows, but you had been under the impression that was entirely of their own free will and desire. Had Tommy turned pimp? Your gaze flashed to Tommy, his stare cold, and then back to the man. “Well, thank you very much doll! Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wilson.” Tommy saw someone walk by and followed, leaving you with the older man. 

“Your dance was something else, sweetheart.” You nodded, his hand coming to rest on your hip. “I bet those hips do more than dancing.”

Leaning in, you rested your hand on the hand he set on your hip and whispered into his ear, “Touch me again without my permission,” you lifted his tie, a flirtatious move to anyone watching, “And the next time you see this tacky tie, you’ll be shitting it out.” You patted his chest. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

You pushed through the crowd and out of the front doors of the theatre. The air chillier tonight than past weeks. Looking around, you balled your fists. You wanted to hit something, break something.

Without any destination you tore off down the street, angrily huffing to yourself. You looked both ways to cross the intersection when you saw a familiar silhouette. A car honked, your hands coming up in apology as you finished crossing the street to follow Alastor.

Was your luck miraculous? Or malignant? You made it several blocks before a man stepped in front of you. You weren’t listening, trying to look past him to see where Smiles was headed.

“Will you fuck off?!” You pushed him out the way only to have him pull you back by the arm. Before you could let out your frustration, a stranger walked up to you both. 

“Hands off, move along.” The stranger flashed his identification papers, making the offender leave quickly with his head down. “Miss you need to be careful out here. There’s been people missing from this ward. Pretty thing like you should be home.” 

Your mouth formed various shapes, no words fitting.

“Detective Brady.” He handed you a card.

I don’t want this.

“Sure, thanks.” You snatched it with two fingers and practically jogged away. No sign of him, no indication where Alastor went. Were there any forested areas? He often took strolls in shady parks but you couldn’t remember any nearby. Turning around you realized how far you’d wandered from the fanfare and lights. The area was dark and deserted, not just Alastor but no one was around anymore. You stashed the card in your bra and rushed past an alley, giving up and deciding to just go home, when your ears caught the sound of dragging fabric on pavement.

Ice. Your blood chilled. Taking a few steps backwards, you turned to look into the darkened side street. You saw nothing, but heard a familiar wet sound.

Would it matter? Death?

You lifted your heels, walking on the balls of your feet to not make any sound as you approached the black shadow blanketing the majority of the side street.

A glimpse of brown leather shoes peeked into the light, soon your eyes adjusted as you too entered the inky darkness.

“I don’t care for liars.” Alastor was in front of you before you could even shout from shock. You looked around him to see a crumpled body on the ground and a black car.

“Is there a problem?” His eyes scanned your face, his usual smile no longer so inviting but instead manic and wide. You don’t know what possessed you, the adrenaline was flowing again and drowning out your more sensible thoughts. 

Your eyes were locked on his golden brown stare, “Only… if you’re quite attached to his wallet.”

He burst into laughter, wiping tears with the back of his bloodied glove. A small smear of blood was left behind on his cheek.

“I have no need for it.” He reached down and fished it out of the man’s pocket, “And neither does he!”

You caught it with both hands, “Well doesn’t that make me the lucky lady of the evening.”

“Don’t speak too soon. I’m quite cross with you.” He gestured at you with the knife, “We had a deal.”

In what could best be described as an out of body experience you watched yourself rush to his side and lift the man’s legs, “In the trunk?”

Alastor stared at you, teeth showing as his smile grew, “I’ve seen films less entertaining than you.” A stifled laugh as he lifted the man from under his arms and you both carried him to the car. You dropped the legs with a loud thud, Alastor gently setting the man down and opening the trunk.

A waxed canvas was lining the inside, “Clever.” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He hummed happily at the compliment and you sank your teeth into the reaction. Everyone wants something; power, money, sex, praise. Find the right combination and even the toughest hearts would swing open. 

After he tossed the man, the knife, and the gloves into the back, you reached for his hand. “Your wife is going to be miffed. Blood is so difficult to get out of cotton.” You scratched at the bit of blood that had stained his cuff. “Spit works really well. But lemon juice and baking soda before any store bought cleaners will help.”

Alastor took his hand back, adjusting his sleeve to hide the red spot, “Oh she has much bigger issues to deal with.”

Your mind raced. A chauvinist? Abuser? A weight settled into your stomach; disappointment. “Is that so?”

Giggling, he leaned against the bumper, one leg crossing in front of the other, “Considering she doesn’t exist, she’s quite terrible at laundry. And I haven’t eaten a meal in years.” A giggle devolving into a full chest laugh. 

A terrible joke, you smacked his chest, “Cruel! Unfunny!” 

“Perhaps I should eat you?” He leaned close. 

“I hear I’m quite sweet.” You smirked, heart pounding in your chest with such force you were rocking slightly with each pulse.

Alastor felt his blood pressure rising. He should kill you. Just to be safe. But—- oh, this was so fun. You hid any fear you were feeling perfectly. He could be forgiven to think he was staring into a mirror. If he met himself in an alley, well, he would feel quite safe. Perhaps you we’re of a similar inclination?

He watched your throat as you gulped. You licked your thumb and wiped at his cheek, “You always make a mess, hun.”

Alastor felt the world spin as you then dragged your blood stained thumb over your lips, red lipstick smearing with it. “Sweet eno-,” he swallowed your words, hand coming to your neck and pulling you into the kiss. No patience, his tongue swiped over your mouth and plunged in at the smallest parting. 

Your mind was screaming, finally, yes. 

His tongue as soft as his hands rolled over your own, every time your mouths pulled away and drew back together was thinning your frontal cortex. Alastor could taste the faint metallic tinge of the man’s blood on your mouth, and he found his sleeping libido shiver awake. Always a fan of kissing, he now found his mind wandering to other parts of your body, other acts of affection, as he felt you’d call them.

No time. He pulled away, “Against the wall.”

You practically threw yourself into the bricks. Alastor pulled a gas tin from the trunk and began dousing the street. You frowned, body relaxing.

“You’re taking the food metaphor too far. Fire? Really?” You took a second to realize there was no odor.

A laugh in threes, “Water, dear.” You watched the blood thin and begin snaking down to the gutter. He set the can in the trunk and closed the hatch. After opening the drivers door he turned to you, “Do you trust me to drive you home?”

“Honestly, no.”

“That’s why I like you,” a wink. “Wear comfortable shoes tomorrow.” He flashed a smile, pushing his glasses up. Before you could question him he  hopped into the car and drove off out of the back of the side street.

Alastor found himself singing a little louder as he drove home. A thrilling evening becoming somehow more exciting. He realized that always seemed to happen when you stumbled into his plans. Still annoyed you had followed him, his thoughts shifted to possibilities. A kindred spirit could make things easier. More fun. Safer. But who were you? Much like himself you wore a mask. He could see it clearly as it always began to slip in his presence. 

He pulled his car behind his home, backed up against a large greenhouse. Still in the idling vehicle, his fingers came to his lips. What a peculiar creature you were. Killing the lights and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he considered what to do. The possibilities kept coming in waves. But he stopped himself, never one to live in fantasy. Helping toss a dead man into a car wasn’t the same as killing. Yes, you showed no outward concerns, but he couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t turn tail the second things got more intense. 

He always took his time, sensing out those who were good candidates. The abhorrent, the abusers, the cruel. There was something so satisfying, deep in his gut, to watch a person with power over others cower in fear. The same eyes that relished in the pain they gave to those under their thumb shaking in realization the were now the prey. Begging for mercy they didn’t afford others. Alastor sighed. He remembered your pained sob in the park, frustration and disappointment at his lack of reaction. Eyes fluttering closed, if you had gotten in the car you’d not be disappointed in him now. 

A deeper sigh. But you didn’t. Which was wise. He thought better of you for it. Opening his eyes and leaving the car, he went to the trunk to begin his work.

You couldn’t sleep. Not because of the dead man, you were getting used to that. It was the lack of information. Comfortable shoes? For what? He didn’t give you a time or place to meet.

Tomorrow was Sunday, you realized. Ah, the bar. That was the only place that would make sense. 

Sundays were big nights for your theatre, but you weren’t needed unless a girl was sick. You simply weren’t at that level of fame for your little company and this was fine for you suddenly. You spent your Sunday pacing your small one room apartment and changing shoes.

What did Alastor have planned? With the little you knew about him it a could be a capital crime or a walk in the park. You genuinely couldn’t imagine and it was exciting. A normal man asking you—- was this a date? Was it presumptive to call it a date? You couldn’t quite see Alastor dating. You let the question go. Most men would take you for a movie and perhaps a chaste kiss at the door of a cab. With Alastor it could be literally anything. How do you dress for anything? 

Your friend teased you, arriving early to her bar and chewing on your lip. 

“So, either you suddenly wanna look nice for my dive, or you’re expecting someone.” She was wiping down the counter.

“I adore your customers, Betty.” You hopped from the seat, needing to reapply your lipstick.

Your singing voice was strained, nerves keeping you tense. Looking into the modest crowd you couldn’t find him. A cornflower yellow dress, a little too tight around your waist but you didn’t let that stop you. The collar a loose and folding slit from shoulder to shoulder, you were positively cute, he decided. Leaning at the bar he couldn’t see your face, but under the small lights you were glowing nonetheless. A little ball of pride rose in his gut, noticing you clearly had put more care into your appearance tonight than most Sundays. 

Truth was he had enjoyed a whiskey and your songs for several months now, always at the seat closest to the door, out of sight and out of mind. His favorite of your casual dive bar digs were the trousers you occasionally wore. You looked so sharp.

When your set was done, you tried to be gracious as you left the piano’s side. Alastor watched you from his seat, letting your face light up once again when you recognized him. He gave a noticeable look to your shoes. 

“Those will do.” 

“Do what?” 

“You,” he leaned against the bar, “owe me a drink. And alcohol always pairs well with dance.”

Maybe a date, you thought. You offered him your arm, “Lead the way.”

As you walked, arm in arm, you found yourself not needing to speak much. His arm was so solid in yours. You felt like everyone was looking, the handsome man and the pretty young thing. Did you two look sweet? Like the cleanest cut kids in the neighborhood? Did you look like the kind of people who sat in pews once a week and clasped hands over dinner?

Did you look like the sort to toss bodies in cars? No, decidedly not. And it made you feel powerful. What a perfect act. The feeling of looking nothing like what you were was akin to the addicting rush of your cat and mouse game with most men. 

“Do you like those group dances? Like the Big Apple?” Alastor asked as he opened the doors for you. 

“Not particularly…”

“Perfect, neither do I.” He laughed. 

A small table in a small nook of a booth lining the small dance floor. You clinked your glasses together, no toast necessary, and watched the couples swing around the room. As the 20’s were fading from the rear view, you all hoped dance would be less stigmatized. But part of the fun was how scandalous it was. 

“How was your day? Made it home safe and sound?” Alastor crossed his legs and leaned into the plush booth seat. 

Oh, this was going to be… normal? You choked a little on your drink, surprised. “Honestly?”

“Always.”

“I sat in my apartment changing my shoes repeatedly.”

Alastor’s laugh was loud and sharp, but you didn’t find it obnoxious. You liked it.

“That wasn’t my intention. I just didn’t want to risk you being unable to dance.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a slow sip with your gaze on the dancers, “Ya know how to avoid that? Tell me to wear shoes for dancing.”

A snicker, “Perhaps I’m not quite as skilled with talking to women as I like to think.”

“Then talk to me like a man.” Your glass made a thud as it hit the table. Alastor’s eyes widened as they always did when you said something wildly amusing to him.

“Hmm, I don’t talk much to men.” He thought, “Not for long conversations, that is.” Your mind conjured up the two dead men. “I never asked your name. Is it too late now?”

“You saw it on the posters. Autumn.”

Alastor smirked, “Autumn Hind is not your real name. That is clearly a stage name.”

Swirling your drink in its crystal, you smiled, “It’s a good one though, you have to admit.” His brow cocked, not understanding. “Hind, a doe. And what do does do in the fall?” Your own brows rose suggestively. 

Alastor hit the table, “A deer pun?! Oh darling, we’re going to be fast friends.” He offered you his glass for another wordless toast.

“I thought it was pretty funny, for a burlesque dancer no less. A horny little deer prancing on stage. Better than Allie Way and Frosti Winters.” You grinned into the glass, proud of yourself.

You could see Alastor physically relax beside you, dancers moving about in front of you both. 

“And yours? Your day, that is.”

He hummed, “I slept late, stayed up late. Took care of our newly penniless friend.” 

You wanted to ask more, what did you do with him? Can I come next time? Is there a pool of gators somewhere eating well today?

He leaned in to you, “May I have this dance?”

Your smile was uncontained, all desire to control your outward appearance was lost in the fun of dancing with your newest partner. Was there anyone else in the room with you anymore? Who knows. The music kept playing and that was all you needed. 

Alastor was a marvelous dancer,  you noticed other women glancing his way, eye lashes fluttering but ignored as he focused on the movements. This was how you managed to not-stalk him so well, he was completely unaware of the interested gazes of those around him.

While he didn’t notice the individual stares, Alastor could feel the attention on him and it made his chest puff. He loved it, how he could feed an image to the masses and be seen as he saw fit. It was something you both had in common, even if neither of you had strong enough egos to vocalize it yet.

When the music wound down, a slow number for the lovers, you hadn’t expected Alastor to stay on the dance floor. A slow dance, one arm on your hip, hand in hand. 

Now close, you felt you could speak without risk of others eavesdropping. 

“Why did you invite me out? I have a distinct memory of you saying you had very little affection or time.” You were shorter than him, your shoes not very tall, so you had to speak up and at his neck.

“A man who says he has no time is a man unwilling to make any.” Alastor led you in a small sway along the floor.

“Oh so you just didn’t see me worth the effort before.” You said it half teasingly, half seriously.

He looked down now, eyes meeting yours again, “That was before I knew how entertaining you could be.”

You pouted, entertaining was not the word you wanted to hear. Enthralling, Enchanting, Endearing. 

“There’s that face again. What ever could it mean.” Alastor’s head cocked to the side.

“I’m entertaining at work. You don’t need to take me out to enjoy my entertainment value.” 

He laughed again, making you glare, “Darling, being entertaining is high praise. And you’re not entertaining at work. You’re bewitching.” He pulled you a little closer, “The way you make those men act a fool. Truly a sight. You wield a power many women just dabble in.”

You shimmied a little against his chest, “Well if we’re giving out compliments…” you remembered the satisfying hum from last night, “The canvas was clever, but the water in the cans was brilliant. Nothing suspicious about a little petrol in the trunk.”

His grin widened. “And your precision. One cut and that brute was down. It was remarkable.” The hand holding your waist began to tighten. It egged you on, whether he intended it to or not, “I can appreciate the way you carry yourself.” Your freehand ran across his vest, suit jacket left at the table, “I wish I could see more.”

Your chest pressed against his, trapping your hand. “Ooh, you are observant, little one. Why did you agree to come out? Still chasing my,” his hips pressed against yours, hand sliding down slightly to hold you close, “affection?”

Fingers playing with his buttons, “Hmm, debilitating fascination and your affection. Do you have any to spare?” You smiled sweetly up at him.

Your mouths were on each other before the bathroom door closed behind you. Alastor locking it without looking, one hand staying on your neck. The small room was just a single toilet and a bathroom cabinet with a built in sink. Little tulip shaped light sconces above the mirror made the room brighter than the dance hall. Your nails lightly grazed his scalp, him humming in return. His body was pressing yours against the wall, despite his thin frame he had a power to him. Hands on your hips, holding you firmly in place. Your hips tried to roll against his anyway.

“Is it praise? I’ll sing your song until I’m blue in the face, until my lungs give out just tell me what you need.” You whined. 

His head shook softly, thumb pulling down on your chin to open your mouth. “It isn’t that simple. It’s not something you can say.” 

His tongue swiped over your own, neither in your mouths. He tasted like whiskey, bitter and fragrant. Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling his body against yours. You were vibrating; the way you always did when he was near you.

Kissing, tongues, body presses.  You were tangled together.

“This isn't… doing anything?” You asked, his lips coming to your neck. Sighing, your hand gripped his hair weakly. “That feels good.”

He shook his head into your skin, “I don’t see any desire to carry it further. But I enjoy it for what it is. And you seem to enjoy it. Is that enough for you?”

You wanted to scream, to argue, but as he pulled away and you stared up into his sharp honey brown eyes, you felt helpless to deny him anything. Did you need sex? Really? It’d been three months now without it and you were only recently clawing at the sheets with thoughts of Alastor. Being in his mouth was better than being strangers. Sliding fingers back into his hair and drawing him closer, your leg came up and hooked on his hip.

Alastor pulled you both from the wall and turned you, pressing your body into the sink. You were staring at your reflection, Alastor’s eyes meeting yours in the mirror, “I’m happy to do many things for you… just not exactly what you’re asking for; not right now. Not in this tiny dance hall bathroom.” 

His hand snaked up your chest and lightly held your neck, you fought back a moan.

“Well, if it’s good enough for your wife….” 

He laughed into your skin, other hand slipping down the front of your dress and cupping your crotch. “I’ve heard no complaints.” The way he anchored you, arms twisted and firm around such vital parts of you, made your whole body relax into his arms. A parachute safely secured around you as you fell. Mouth to your ear, hot and warm breath, “Turn around.”

Head spinning, you turned in his arms. Alastor lifted you up and onto the countertop of the sink, lips crashing back into yours.

The sound of music shook the thin walls of the room, heart erratic in your chest. His fingers slid up both thighs slowly, a familiar feeling for you now. His hands your favorite dance partner. 

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he dropped to his knees, your legs closing in embarrassment before he slid his hands between them. 

“Did you ask for more affection, dear?” He pushed your dress up around your waist, two fingers pulling the fabric of your panties to the side. You wanted to rip them off, damning your garters. You felt feverish as you watched him bury his face into your pussy. Your wetness was evident by how easily he glided through your folds. One hand gripped the counter, the other combing through his chestnut hair. Alastor kept his eyes on you, reading your face as he moved his tongue over your heat.

Mind racing for something clever to say, you opened your mouth but just gasped out his name as he sucked gently at your clit. One of your short heeled shoes you stressed over fell off as your knees came up around his head.

You were confident you made the right answer. With the music thumping along you didn’t feel any need to keep yourself quiet.

Your breathy moans and little hip rolls into his mouth made Alastor smile against your skin. He had learned many ways to keep people satiated. 

With a struggle, you opened your legs again allowing his tongue to drop down and into you. Nose rutting against your sensitive clit with every movement of his tongue in and out. 

A pounding on the door made you jump. 

“People are waiting!” Someone yelled.

Alastor pushed his tongue deeper, wriggling up and down against your twitching walls. Your head fell forward, “Alastor-,” you choked.

He buried his nose into your muff, eyes closing.

The door knob rattled, “Hello!”

“Alastor.”

So warm. Your body was so warm on his face. Your smell was making him feel feral. Gluttony. The way you were twitching and heaving under his tongue, groaning his name. Had he ever felt so powerful while on his knees? Had he ever enjoyed someone else’s body in such a bloodless way? No. Decidedly not.

“We’re gonna get the key!” The man at the door said.

“Okay, okay, affection received.” You patted his head, pushing him away by his forehead. “Don’t need to end the night in a paddy wagon.”

Alastor’s tongue was still out, eyes glossy as he looked up at you.

For the briefest second you considered wrapping your thighs back around his head and waiting for the key.

You hopped off, grabbing your shoe and leaning to get it back on. Crouching down you kissed Alastor’s nose and wiped his chin clean with your handkerchief before pushing it into his shirt pocket. “Up, up!” Hand in hand you barreled out of the door before the staff could see you and rushed to the furthest corner of the hall.

When you stopped and looked back you saw a staff member looking around annoyed, a man putting his hands up and entering the bathroom with a huff.

Before you could say anything, compliment or scolding, a woman was in front of Alastor. Your hand slid from his naturally. 

“I am so sorry. Are you the host of that jazz show?” The woman had her hands in front of her, nervously twisting the handle of her purse, “Sorry if you’re not! You just look like the description, tall… handsome… cute glasses.”

You turned around, partly acting like you didn’t know him at all and partly hiding the way your face twisted. Unsure what exactly you two were doing, you didn’t want to create hassle for either of you.  Alastor laughed, “The very same! Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” With your back turned you couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she made a barely audible squeak. 

While you were eavesdropping, a man offered you his arm. Your hand slipped to Alastor’s back, giving him a touch as you slid into the strangers arms for a dance.

He turned around to see you hit the floor and smiled, returning to the fan before him. After a few more compliments about his voice and his appearance, the woman shrunk a little, “Are you free tonight? I don’t have an escort home…”

A hum, soft smile, “Ah, I would love to see a fan safely home. But, alas, I am here with someone.”

What an easy excuse. It was nice to not need to lie.

“I see…. Oh, uh, your glasses… here, they’re a little smudged,” she offered him her handkerchief but he declined, pulling yours from his pocket.

“Danced too hard?” She chuckled, trying to elongate the conversation.

Alastor hummed, fogging the glasses before wiping them clear. “Eating, actually.”

“Oh you’re a messy eater, huh?”

“So I’ve been told.” He folded the square into a triangle and returned it to his pocket.

“What a… delicate handkerchief.” She looked at the soft yellow fabric and saw your yellow dress twirling behind him. “Ah. Well….It was a pleasure to meet you.” The woman sheepishly excused herself, letting him watch you dance around the floor with the stranger.

He’d never so explicitly told anyone his proclivities as he had done with you. Growing up he learned quickly his interests misaligned with other young men, but he didn’t really understand it well enough until he entered his early 20s and had to learn skills his peers didn’t. A man can only turn down so many offers for sex before people begin to question him. Certain rumors could be downright dangerous. 

Your eyes kept returning to him, your smile meeting you eyes as you twirled. 

While he had bed a number of partners, it was more often than not the result of physical reactions and what felt like necessity. The few times he genuinely felt he could enjoy in indulging in carnal pleasures he found himself utterly alone. He enjoyed dating, necking, kissing, but he could only keep some people so happy for so long. Quite a few women assumed marriage would solve the issue, and pushed him. Which made the inevitable break up easier. 

His reputation was that of a rake now. The popular host who rarely dates but often canoodles.

He laughed to himself, if rumors spread of his recent antics with you he’d be practically blacklisted from certain clubs. Alastor watched you graciously leave your dance partner and hop up to him. If he were any other man, you’d throw your arms around him and make him swoon for you. But he was Alastor. Your confusingly respectful killer. So you stopped yourself, instead offering him a smile.

“I wasn’t aware you were a radio host.”

“You never did ask my job.” You both walked back to the table where his jacket was lying in the booth seat.

“Honestly did not care. Which is unusual for me. Normally my first question to men is what they do for work.” You tried to avoid looking at the bathroom before settling back into your seat beside him.

He lifted his hand and gestured for another round, “Should I be flattered or insulted?”

“Oh definitely flattered. There were much more interesting aspects to you.” There was a little space between you, a foot or so of emptiness. 

You scooted closer, Alastor glancing to you before shifting his legs and closing the last few inches of distance. Thigh touching thigh, you sat silently while your drinks were poured and brought to your table. 

“To sinning,” you offered a real toast, Alastor laughing his signature laugh and raising his glass.

“To sinning!”

His hand came to rest on yours, both settled on your lap under the table. Your cheeks were hurting, desperately trying to keep your smile looking demure and not stupid-school-girl-in-love. His fingers folded into yours, and you entirely lost the plot, face melting into a lovesick grin.

Alastor leaned into you, “Are you alright? Liquor already gone to your head?”

You squeezed his hand, “Different kind of intoxication, doll.”

The evening was, in a word, divine. You danced with reckless abandon and enjoyed various degrees of affection. You were surprised to see Alastor so open, you had pegged him as less wanting to draw attention to himself. But no, he clearly relished in making heads turn.

He offered you a ride, and this time you took it. You didn’t live far, you just wanted a little more time. When he stopped the car, you jokingly turned around and looked into the trunk. 

“We’re very alone.” You mused. He hummed an agreement, getting out of the car and opening your door.  “Wow and a gentleman.”

“A testament to my mother. If you’re comfortable, give me a wave from the window when you get in.” He closed your door behind you. 

“I don’t mind if you know where I live, you’ll have easier opportunities to kill me, I’m sure of it.” Placing two hands on his chest, you leaned up, “Is a good night kiss too forward?”

Alastor stifled a laugh, “Quite! My image of you is shattered.” before leaning down to meet your lips.

When in the apartment you turned on a light and went straight to the window. Leaning against his car with both hands in his pockets, Alastor was smiling up at you. With a wave from you, he got back into his car and left.

To say you were on cloud nine would be an understatement. Clouds couldn’t carry the weight of your joy. You’d fall to the ground like lead, regardless of the cloud classification. And with that feeling you went to bed smiling, unaware of the dark catalyst barreling towards you.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows

ADIF @multifandomfanatic02 ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[nighttimeavastime]

But everybody knows that it is all about the things That get stuck inside of your head, Like the songs your roommate sings Or a vision of her body as she stretches out on your bed.

"If I didn't know any better I would have thought you moved out." It was a dramatic statement designed to evoke some feeling of guilt. But if there was any feeling consuming the girl who stood in the doorway it was exhaustion. Through the gathering color under her eyes to the lagged movement in each step it was becoming more apparent, but this was a time to save face. Accepting defeat was already such a degrading action, it didn't have to be made worse by recalling every event that lead up to this moment. But still the thoughts came in pulses like a bad headache. The failing grades in class, the distance from her father at home. Everything was coming down in waves and all the girl could do was inhale water and drown. This was meant to be the lonely hand sticking out of the water as a last sign of a struggle for help. It wasn't a white flag, it was a life preserver. And what made it even worse was that there was no way to dissociate from this situation at all. In between the crippling moments of her life being turned upside down there was only so much of a numb state to be achieved. By now Avarie was occupying her body without being fully aware. Hopefully this would all appear to be some faint dream, a recollection that couldn't be fully deciphered. Or at least, that was the wish as the door to the room closed shut behind her.

This gained the attention of the male who had been preoccupied with filling glasses with some unidentified liquid. Usually the door was only closed during personal moments; the nights that Avarie would come rushing into the room with tears in her eyes from her exboyfriend or being bullied at school. God, those were simpler times. If only it had been noticed that those small moments wouldn't even be the tip of the iceberg when it came to trying to single handedly ruin the psychic's life. After lifting the glass to his lips, a question was asked with a hint of curiosity. "What's on your mind?" It was lingering behind those hazel eyes, it was dripping from every pore from her body. This was the moment that she never wanted to come but trying to keep up with who would be stabbed in the back wasn't worth the sleepless nights. Perhaps it was being so deprived of sleep that was creating this bad judgment, but there was only one way to find out. Keeping a steady eye on the worn floorboards the girl walked about the room to avoid the gaze that was falling upon her. A lion eyeing his prey, and here she was, wounded without a way out. "I've just been thinking...about you." The sentence wasn't lined with a pretense but she could tell his interest had increased. "About us."

At a single crack in the wood the pacing finally stopped. She was only a foot or so away from him, but not face to face. There was still the illusion of being out of reach, of being the one thing he could never obtain. And that was a matter that she had originally taken pride in until this very moment. Instead of instantly questioning further the pair stood in silence as the whites of his eyes dilated into black. If he was looking for a motive behind this, he was going to come up short. This was real, despite how badly Avarie wanted this to be a dream. When he turned to face her the scent of whiskey engulfed her. Demons were always so greedy, and Micah was no exception to that. He wanted Avarie from the moment she stumbled into his apartment. Despite having a boyfriend and absolutely no interest in him romantically, the plotting never stopped. The torment started out small but now that everything had been ripped away from her grasp it proved that a mere mortal was no match for the relentless quest of a demon. Now that she had his full attention Avarie walked over to the same bed she had sat on so many nights before, perched on the edge with direct eye contact.

Don't look away, don't make it seem as if this was a pill to swallow. Her mind was fighting against her body's urges even as he walked towards her. She wanted to stand up and make a run for the door but this was her fate. She was a fly caught in the web and it was only a matter of time before the darkness ate her alive. As the weight shifted on the bed the next phrase rose in her throat. It was an explanation about how she had finally had enough of these games, about how she literally couldn't take it a minute longer. But it appeared that speaking of her demise would only ruin the illusion. As her lips parted to speak his finger reached out to touch her bottom lip, not to intentionally quiet her but it did distract from the thought at hand. She wondered what he was thinking. Was he reveling in this moment? A once beautiful and deceptive creature was now going to be crushed in the grasp of a heartless enemy. Even as his eyes scanned across her face one last time there was the knowledge that he was looking at her for how she originally was; this was the last time she would ever look this way. A knot constricted around her stomach as his hand reached out to touch her neck. His thumb rested on her pulse giving away a rapid heart beat at the fear of losing this war. Time stood still as the space between them disintegrated, his lips just barely hovering to the point they could share a breath. This was the moment that occupied so many of her nightmares, and yet here she was willingly allowing it to happen. Maybe her subconcious was trying to tell her to do this sooner but she wouldn't be denied for putting up a good fight. When their lips finally met her surprise registered as clear as day. Her skin wasn't on fire, the earth hadn't opened up to swallow her whole. If she didn't know any better it would have been viewed as innocent, but there was nothing innocent about him. With the strength in his hand applying pressure on the back of her neck their kiss grew deeper and the anxiety and fear was beginning to burn in her veins. This was what he wanted, this was what had to be done in order to get her life back. She was making a deal with the devil, and somehow her soul just wasn't a good enough bargaining chip.

In a moment of slow motion her body reclined on the bed, dragging his frame down with her in a single movement. The world shut out as she closed her eyes, trying to pretend this was any other person but Micah, but it was hard to ignore it. He was in her head, not to manipulate, but to make sure that this was happening. She couldn't escape the contrast of his lifeless flesh on top of her own. Even as his fingers slid up the fabric of her shirt the malicious intent was radiating off in waves. No amount of imagination could compare to this actual moment. His lips covered every exposed inch of her neck in a desperate fashion. No amount of her would ever be enough, he still wanted to have more, and at this point it was too late to turn back. But as his lips left her neck it was replaced with the grip of his hand cuffing around her throat. Her eyes dilated with confusion as a response was strangled in her throat. "You know I've wanted this moment for so long..." His voice registered in her ear, his breath causing strands of auburn hair to move at the end of each word. "But you've forgotten one little detail."

Slender legs flattened out against the bed in an effort to gain traction but the effort fell flat. Her fingers clawed at his grip on her neck as if she could really do any damage. Once again the color from his eyes drained to black, a smile appearing across his lips that really made Avarie wonder if he was going to take the life from her. "What happened to all of that fight in you Oberst? I don't mind the fire in your loins but I do miss it being in your gut." Heat rose to her cheeks at the insinuation that this was just another fling in her book. If he only knew the courage it took to get to this moment, if he knew the sleepless nights she spent wondering what point the torture would be too much. And here it was proven the fight had barely even begun. "You know exactly what I want to hear. So before my name falls from those pretty lips of yours, you need to say it." His hand expanded slightly in a form of generosity to allow Avarie to speak, but that was the issue. She couldn't muster the words. Here she was, willing to give up her body to a monster but he would never have her heart. "Come on Ava..." This time when his lips made contact with her neck he bit down slightly, as if the pain on her throat wasn't already enough. Something about being put in this position only to be denied the escape from his mind games reignited that spark that he claimed to desperately miss.

"I--I want you to get off of me right now." At first the sentence was soft but by the end her words were echoing so loud through the apartment she was sure the above levels could hear it. Would they come to help? Of course not, but she also knew that Micah hated having rumors whispered throughout his kingdom. "What's the matter baby, you don't want me anymore?" Now this had become just a moment of entertainment and in an instant her hands stopped clawing at his grip and swung at his face. It wiped the smirk clean off his face but it also caused those dark eyes to come back to life scorching with anger. Finally the air in her lungs was restored as he climbed off the bed, his hands tightening into fists. At least she knew there was one form of a fight that they would never have, at least she got that level of respect. When her feet finally touched the ground the anger of being so close to being released from this trap only to be denied her freedom caused Avarie to automatically lead the argument. "I thought this was what you wanted, I thought this would be good enough for you. It's never going to happen, okay? Never!" Her voice still carried through the paper thin walls of the apartment as she rushed to the door.

It was the embarrassment of proclaiming that he would never win that fueled the next comeback. "If I hadn't stopped you, you would still be writhing underneath me this very moment Ava, so I wouldn't be too sure about what will and will never happen." The door to his room lingered in her grasp as she waited for the right words to come, but the space to retaliate was narrowing down and without realizing it two ill fitted words escaped her lips. "Fuck you." The phrase seethed through the spaces between her teeth with malicious intent only to be responded with. "You just almost did." Without wanting to dig her grave any further the girl offered one last scorned look before slamming the door shut. On her way up the stairs one of the other tenants doors was cracked open to get a view of what started the fight a few levels below only for Avarie to completely ignore it. She wasn't safe here and she wasn't safe at home. For all she knew saying that she loved Micah would have been the easier route to end all of the suffering, but what would a war be without a few close battles? 

[amiablette]

⋆ ULTRAVIOLET KISS - PART ONE ⋆

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─ Some say I'll be better without you but they don't know you like I do; or at least the sides I thought I knew.

⋆ ULTRAVIOLET KISS - PART ONE ⋆

“I was thinking that I know him. I know his heart, and I know what he wouldn’t do to hurt me. But I didn’t realize that feeling so confident, feeling so great about myself then it would be completely shattered. By one thing. By something so stupid. But then you make me feel crazy, you make me feel like it’s my fault. I am in pain…”

Auburn orbs stayed fixated on the beginning of her journal entry, slender digits gripping onto the black ballpoint pen, inhaling a deep breath prior to her head nodding once.

‘Dear diary, I never thought that I would feel this way, I never thought that I would find someone that would make me feel everything at once, and I never thought that I would be smiling from ear to ear. That I would find something that made me genuinely happy. Something that Mallorie couldn't take from me—I was in love. I was falling faster than I ever expected, maybe it was because of the way he looked at me—maybe it was because he was damaged and allowed me to see his broken pieces—maybe it was because when he smiled. God, when he smiled. He looked so much like an angel. An angel that was all mine. Who would’ve thought? Not me. I never thought that someone would ever feel that way about me. Why? That was simply because I was the girl that looked twelve when she was really twenty. It was a sad life that I lived but it was the truth. The truth that I had been living with for years—especially when guys saw Mallorie, they just forgot all about me. I didn’t blame them. My sister was beyond gorgeous. And I was good at pretending that I was fine with being in the background but when it came to him. He only saw me. He didn’t see her. He saw me. That was something that I couldn’t wrap my brain around but I loved it, I loved every moment of our time together. I just loved being in his orbit. I loved him…’

Whiskey-tainted pools surveyed each word that the olive journal held on its alabaster page, sinking pearly whites into the plush of my bottom lip in order not to burst out into a fit of laughter, my head shakes slightly prior to placing my journal to the side. I couldn’t remember how I had felt in the past, I couldn’t remember who I was before the hurricane named Jamil walked into my life. Everything from now until September 20th, 2019 was a haze. Our past was hazy and I was fine with that; the less I knew about him the better. Why would I want to relive the past? I didn’t but spending my nights reading my journal entries from 2019 wasn’t helping anyone. It was only making matters worse. I was becoming the master of my own destruction and at this rate, I would end up losing everything. Even if Jamil came back, he wouldn’t recognize the girl I had become. I had lost myself so long ago and I didn’t care who knew.

A soft sigh elicited from her throat, and rustic hues stayed fixated on the white line that reflected in her orbs as she dipped her head downward; inhaling the alabaster substance as her nostrils flared up before whipping the remaining powder away.

“You know this isn’t you. What would your family think if they found out this is the person you have become? You really need to go back home, I’m sure many people miss you. What about Mallorie? She needs you.”

A soft melodic laugh resonated from her throat, tilting her head back slightly to look at Daniel with a wry smile.

“Daniel, did I ever tell you the story of how I got here? No. It’s your lucky day, I am about to tell you the story of a girl that thought love was the answer to all her problems, a story about a girl that hopped for paradise but stepped into a war zone instead. Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? This is Ultraviolet Kiss; starting Syrina Lucius and it is one that is a page-turner. Buckle your seatbelt, Daniel, things are about to take a turn for the worst. . .”

[maggicktouched]

"If only my actual mother had have felt the same." She snorted dryly. It didn't hurt to make jokes about it. She'd been doing it her whole life. It was the closest thing she had to a coping mechanism. Besides, her mother had been dead so long that she felt more like a fairy tale monster than a reality. Her scars were so deeply embedded that most of the time she didn't even realize the horror of them, didn't even know where they would pop up, better yet connect them to the beast that had inflicted them.

She climbed the few steps back up into the house and paused at the threshold. "Not sure you'll ever change the system from inside it."

Booze was a bad idea. It had a tendency to turn her into an airhead at best, and a sobbing, emotional wreck without her top on at the worst, but she felt like she couldn't breathe. She hadn't spent this many consecutive hours in a city since she dated Harper, and here there weren't any sound proof rooms or deprivation circles to rest in. Booze would have to numb the crawling, suffocating feeling that was filling her lungs like water. It would also help when she had to summon the courage to call her ex-girlfriend to ask to talk to a random man that she wasn't even sure was alive at this point.

The food might help too. Did people across universes have the same fridges? The same food in the fridge? How could something so inane cross the boundary of space and time but not your child? The contents in the door of the fridge rattled as she opened it. She scooped up the container and perched herself on the counter, choosing to eat it cold than bother with a microwave. Truth be told, she'd have gleefully starved before touching one. She had never trusted them.

The whiskey burned her throat, and she coughed after a healthy gulp, but it did relive some of the pressure. She popped another bite of food into her mouth, took another swig, and headed out to find Dana again.

"Tell him I need my bag." She insisted, leaving on the frame of the door and shutting her eyes as a car flashed by and the booze made her head spin a little. "And don't tell him anything else."

It was enough she trusted one person with her secrets. She didn't even talk about her jobs to other people in her same organization. That was how people got hurt: when other people were stupid enough to run their mouths and turn around not expecting to get a knife in their backs.

"The proof is gone." She muttered, shaking her head. She took another drink, winced, and sat the bottle down. "The wife is dead, the kids are gone. I'm the only loose end, and they don't have anything to hold me on other than a few flimsy eye witnesses. If you ask me you should call them in for a line up or whatever you call it. I'll do some of this-" She paused, wriggling her fingers and causing a ribbon of light to sparkle along their tips and then fade away. "To make sure they don't notice me. I walk on circumstantial evidence. We go to New York, and then I see if I can get you the hell home."

She let out a long, clearly intoxicated sigh. "Easy peezy lemon squeezy."

"And that's only scratching the surface," Dana replied with a wry smile, only half joking. "I won't deny my work has been hard," she admitted, her expression suddenly sombre. "And there are things I've experienced, seen, that I sometimes wish I hadn't, a darkness in the world that I've had to face that perhaps I would have been better if I'd been able to remain ignorant, if I still saw the world as simply as I once did..." She remembered the ease of being a pure sceptic, in those very early years in the X Files, when she was still able to see everything through the lens of accepted science without having to push the boundaries of what came next, of the science yet to be discovered. She might not have had the whole truth, but her world had been simpler. "But adopting you, being your mother? There's not a single moment of that I regret."

Sighing a little, Scully thought on the question, of the reason why she did what did, why no matter how long she was removed from it all, how often she stepped back and attempted to leave it all behind, that she always came back, that she was always drawn in to it all once again.

"Well, I trained as a medical doctor before deciding to join the FBI. I thought I could make a real difference there. And I believe I have," she admitted. "I've seen the people Mulder and I have helped, the evil we've managed to stop, the lies we've uncovered, the good I honestly believe we've managed to do." She looked at Beck sincerely. "Knowing all that, if I let the difficult things stop me, if I walk away...they win. The corruption wins. And," she added, "it wouldn't have made you any safer. As an FBI agent, working for the X files, all of it, I think it helped keep you safe. We were able to protect you." In ways this Beck clearly hadn't been. The cynicism, doubt and mistrust were strange things to see in her daughter, for her boldness to be replaced by cynical caution and suspicion, that in some ways it was almost as if they looked nothing alike. That their differences were so clear that even their physiology was changed by it.

"I wasn't planning to call an assassin," she told her frowning a little at the assumption, unsure whether Beck had been joking or not. "But I am going to call someone I trust, someone who will help with Mike Phillips." The best way for Beck to be free of suspicion would be for Agent Phillips to be discovered; difficult but not impossible. "No cigarettes," she added firmly as she got out her cell phone. "But there's leftover take-out in the kitchen, and there should be whiskey in the cupboard." She directed Beck back into the house as she began to dial. She only had to wait a few seconds before the other line picked up. "Mulder, it's me."

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john x reader (part 3 of ?)

gif by @michaelgreys but i cropped it cause god daMn 👀

read part one and two! | my masterlist

a/n: this one goes out to all my john bitches!! i know it's hard out here, we get no new content but this part is steamy as hell. its not over yet, though! i'm a sucker for happy endings, ok? i hope you all like it, i'm still working on requests as i go :) much love to @stxdyblr-2k for ghostwriting on this series, she has the most amazing ideas in the world 🖤

love, abi xxx

tagging: @datewithgianni

prompt: john's been ignoring you and you want to know why.

warnings: fluff, angst, nsfw!! smut, cocky john, just straight up porn at the end but can you blame me

John hadn't spoken a word in your direction for a week. Despite constantly seeing you glued to Ada's hip, he’d barely acknowledged you since the wedding. He didn’t even bother looking up. Instead his jaw tensed, taking longer inhales of smoke, constantly examining the pocket watch dangling from his right hip. You were the last person John wanted to see right now. He couldn’t get you out of his head, the flush of your cheeks as you had moaned for him imprinted in his memory. You were fucking picturesque writhing around in his lap, a mess for him, and only him. He’d never felt like this; never wanted someone so badly it hurt. Usually, he drowned what little emotions he had in the nearest bottle of whiskey. You, however, were igniting something inside him he’d never felt. Lust, yes, but it was more. A yearning, a need, to see you smile at his crap jokes for the rest of his fucking life. God, you were getting to him.

His coldness and distance towards you hadn't gone unnoticed. To John’s embarrassment, his brothers regularly referred to it as "a little tiff", usually when you were within earshot, as they loved embarrassing his brother. They were blissfully unaware of the full story, assuming his cockiness had put you off him. He sometimes wondered the same; even though you remained polite by greeting him despite the minimal nod he responded with, you seemed ashamed. John only hoped it wasn't because you were ashamed of him. The truth was, he couldn't get the intensity between the two of you off his mind. Whenever he so much as caught a glimpse of you, he remembered how pretty you looked begging for him, then the embarrassment of having to reject you out of family loyalty. You admitting you wanted to have sex with him, him getting fucked off at you because you were off your face, complicating everything. Yet, every night, he held your words close to him, trying to decipher them.

He knew his brothers wouldn't get it. They wouldn't understand how tragic it was; they'd think it was funny that Ada's best friend wanted to fuck him. Either way, John would always rather put himself in the firing line of his brother's jokes than risk your reputation being blemished. He just couldn't look at you without a wave of guilt and sexual attraction flowing through his veins, causing his jaw to clench and his shoulders to stiffen, his suit jacket expertly covering strain on the crotch of his trousers.

A full week had passed since the wedding, of a man Tommy had recruited in an assassination effort. It was embarrassing how his family used money to attempt to push the trauma they created under the carpet. He knew he didn't have room to talk, but fuckin’ hell, a wedding? Maybe Tommy should've just not hired him to blow the brains out of his own father. Well, it was one way to get rid of the police commissioner who got too nosey, John guessed.

He had hoped that you were a passing phase of infatuation. He’d had many before; he’d been notorious around Birmingham for his conquests. Sure, it was possible he had just gotten overly excited and intoxicated around a beautiful girl. Yet, in the quiet moments of his life, in between his kids and business, his mind was only on you. You, straddling him in that booth, the way you grinned at him as he approached you at the wedding party. Sometimes when he was driving home, his mind would drift off thinking of the feeling of your figure pressed against him, the feel of your lips, your laugh, the sound of your heaving breaths against his ear. You haunted him the most at night, visions of you with his name on your lips in his silk sheets. You were his forbidden fruit, dangling barely out of reach.

***

John was at his desk, paperwork long abandoned in favour of whiskey and a cigar, lost in his own thoughts. The loud tapping of rain and the wind of the storm outside shook the windows, yet John felt somewhat at peace; a temporary peace, but he could unwind. Just his desk, the moonlight, the gas lamp illuminating his empty glass and the heavy English rain for company. He found far more joy in the simplicity of life than his brothers, who reeked of new money. He liked his things the way they were, it all worked, but he had to admit he was a sucker for a good suit. The kids were long in bed, the nanny to comfort their nightmares. It made him feel like a shit father, and he didn't want to be like his useless dad. He had started resenting the life Thomas was forcing him to live; the booze, the partying, the Tokyo, the fighting. It was wearing on him. He needed a break from everyone in this town, he reckoned.

However, a certain unexpected guest was always welcome to him. You had just drifted across his mind when a firm knock at the door caught his attention. He straightened his tie, leaving his legs outstretched and crossed on the dark oak desk, calling for the visitor to enter.

There you were. Dripping from head to toe, but still as beautiful as ever to him, despite your damp hair and slightly smudged makeup. You had caught him off guard, and in his surprise, he couldn't suppress the cheeky grin which spread across his face.

"Got caught in the storm, eh? I'll put the fire on and pour you a drink yeah? Warm you up." He slurred slightly, springing into action, lighting the fire and going to fill two glasses with whiskey, which you politely refused.

"I'm not drinking tonight, Mr. Shelby."

He decides he won't either. He tried to ignore your piercing gaze, motioning you to sit across his desk from him, reaching to put the whiskey in his drawer. "That's not like you. Where you headed, love? That lecture with Ada?"

"I came to see you."

He noted your firm tone, the flirty smile, the coy eye contact.

"What's the occasion?"

"You've been avoiding me." You told him bluntly, his cheeks reddening, eye contact breaking momentarily.

"Yeah, I know." He took a draw from his cigar, rolling the smoke from between his lips on the exhale. "M’sorry."

You watched him for a moment and he met your eyes, suddenly softened from his usual icey blue inquisitive stare. To shame, he looked so vulnerable right now. You could feel yourself falling for him again. This is what you hung around for, the fleeting glimpses of the authentic John Shelby. The lad you'd first giggled about in the girl's bathroom at lunch, barely knowing what sex was. Barely understanding power and politics. Unaware of who you'd both end up as.

"You're fucking soaked to the bone. Come on, I'll put your clothes to dry by the fire. And don't give me that look, I'll give you my coat to save your modesty, lass." He teased. You ignored the way his muscles flexed as he reached for his woolen jacket, some outrageously expensive tailored affair from some London boutique, his large rough hands brushing your fingers. "I'll turn around."

You grasped the coat, heading to the fireplace and warming up for a moment, checking that you were far from his line of sight. This was a dangerous game for you both. You wished he'd grab you, take you on his desk and finish what he started, but the way he absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited indicated that he was restraining himself.

You'd rid yourself of your thin jacket, bought from the market stall last week, effortlessly trendy but an imitation of the pricey stuff Ada and the blinder wives and girlfriends you knew. You were jealous of their fur coats, they were always warm and glamorous looking even on the coldest winter night in Birmingham.

You glanced across the room to John. He was staring intently at the wall lost in thought, teeth gritted.

"John? Could you unzip me?" You asked, purposefully making your voice sound as neutral as possible, looking at him over your shoulder.

He paused, bringing his fingers to rub circles against his jaw. You caught a glimpse of white teeth and dimples as he glanced at you out the corner of his eye and you can't help but match his coy grin. He pushed himself off the desk and quickly closed the small distance towards you, his hand finding first your shoulder then the zip at the nape of your neck, your breath hitching as he pulled the zip to your waist. You could feel his eyes tracing the curvature of your spine and hips. You both hesitated for a moment, before John’s warm fingertips grazed your waist, lips pressing into your hair affectionately. His mouth found his way to your ear, cheekbone, jaw and then neck, encouraged by the way your left hand cradled his head as you pressed your body back into his and how your eyes drifted shut at his touch.

"Sweetheart, why did you come here?" He muttered into your ear, his words and casual affection causing your core to swell in response.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you. I've barely slept in a week, feel terrible. Then you've been ignoring me-"

"It isn't personal, Y/N. You know this isn’t how I want it to be." His hands found their way to your waist, gripping lightly at your hip bones, sending a shiver down your back.

"Well this is how it is, John. It's never going to be any different. So, what are you going to do about it?"

"What are you fucking on about, love?"

"I reckon that just once can't hurt, nobody would know but us. Then we can both move on with our lives..."

John hesitated, "What about Ada?" His head rested on your shoulder, the scent of your sweet perfume causing him to want you even more. Jesus, he was too far gone.

"We were so close the first night I got here and we didn't. No one caught on then, why would it be different now?"

He wanted to trust you so badly, it ached inside of him. He wanted to feel you around him, make you cum for him again and again, for you to be breathless and shaking under him. He wanted to give you everything he could, even if just once. But he couldn't.

"She's my sister. Family is everything; if I don't have them, I’ve got nothin’." He stated firmly, yet his palms lingered on your hips, the liquor destroying his perception of the distinction between friendly touching and actions that made you swallow deeply and pray for relief.

"You have me for tonight." You pulled away from him, ignoring the groan that escaped from his lips at the loss of contact. You locked your eyes with his blue ones and pushed the straps of your dress from your shoulders, allowing the damp material to pool around your feet, standing in front of the man you'd wanted for years. It was now or never.

He stayed silent, watching you, eyes not leaving yours, challenging you for a brief moment before his eyes flickered over your figure.

"Is it such a crime to want to fuck you?" You asked, the silk of your skimpy underwear forcing John to wipe the corner of his mouth absentmindedly as he drank you in, mumbling profanities under his breath. Yet, despite the glances and his sudden frustration, you could tell you had him. His eyes were feral and hungry, daring you to keep pushing him. His shoulders were squared, he was ready for action. The crackling firelight illuminated you beautifully; you were irresistible to him.

"It's not a crime. Where'd you get this backbone from?" He asked, reaching for you but you stepped away, teasing him.

"University up north does sommet to a woman."

"You can fuck off or fuck me with that attitude."

"The latter if you behave yourself, Mr Shelby."

He smirked at you, holding his hands up in mock surrender, before wrapping his coat around your shoulders, pulling you towards him by the back of the collar. "You've got a mouth on you, love. You gonna put it to good use?"

"I was told months ago that you'd sort me out, John-" Your speech was interrupted by a small squealing giggle as he tugged at your hair lightly for mocking his voice, his eyes bright and crinkled at the edges due to his grin. "I'm disappointed with these delays, especially from the Shelby Company."

"Well, as the boss, I'll sort it for you, personally and immediately. Let me make it up to you, lass," John crooned, his lips meeting yours once again, fingers pushing your thighs apart, still clad in your black stockings and garter belt. "This is where we got up to last time, yes?"

"Yes Mr. Shelby, I believe so."

He pressed his lips and teeth against where your jaw met your neck, tracing his index and middle fingers over the silk of your underwear which covered your slit. You couldn’t help but lean into him, a slight hiss escaping your teeth.

"You like that, huh? You're fuckin’ soaked for me already, love," John muttered against your neck, lifting your left leg to hook around his waist, easily lifting you onto his desk, scattering loose papers and heavy accounting books onto the floor in his urgency to feel your bare skin on his. "They teach you how to push a bloke over the edge at that fancy university?"

"No, I figured that out on my own actually."

"Always knew you were bright," He smirked, quickly ridding you of your flimsy panties, the pads of his fingertips hot against your thighs. "Always going for the ones smarter than me, Tommy reckons it's not difficult."

"Your brother's chatting shit, he's not the one ‘bout to fuck me on his desk, yeah?" You shot back, opening your thighs to encourage him, your cunt exposed, cutting off John’s laugh. He couldn’t help but stare, eyes glued to your dripping cunt. "You're my favourite brother, always have been. If you tell Finn, I'll kill you," You teased.

"Come off it," John grunted in reply, unable to restrain pressing kisses to your inner thighs, your head tilting back, fingers desperately clutching at his hair. “Need t’get a proper taste of you, yeah? Look so fuckin’ sweet for me.” His mouth reached your core, slowly dipping his tongue into you, causing your mouth to fall open in ecstasy. God, his lips were even softer than they looked. His movements switched from light and teasing to purposeful and focused, his fingers curled and pumping inside you, tongue and thumb attacking your clit. He'd gotten on his knees, your legs wrapped around his neck as he groaned into your cunt, causing you to buck your hips wildly at the sensation, moans falling out of your mouth.

“Fuckin’ christ, John,” You swore, feeling yourself pulsate and twitch around his nimble fingers, crying out into the empty office building. You were getting so close, your hips jerking independently, chest heaving as you gasped for air. You were quickly getting overstimulated, you were so close. Before you could finish, John raised his head back to yours, letting you taste yourself on his mouth, his hands moving from your cunt to your tits, finger tips tracing the outline of your nipples through your silk bra.

"If we get to do this once, I want to feel you finish on my cock, doll," John grunted in a hushed tone, pointedly moving his lips to your collarbone when you opened your mouth to argue back to him.

"Then I get to ride you." Your statement took him by surprise; most women he'd slept with seemed fairly passive in bed. Sure they enjoyed themselves, but they never took control. He could feel himself swell in response to your words. He'd never been put in this position; he was a stranger to it, but the idea was thrilling and wickedly seductive. Especially from someone who was the epitome of "girl-next-door" as they were growing up.

"Polly reckoned you'd be trouble since Ada told us you'd returned. Don't mind getting into trouble with you, though," He teased, his plump mouth dipping to your cleavage, unclasping your bra, tongue circling your hardening nipples.

"John, fuckin’ christ, need you to finish me off, yeah?" You begged, voice shaking, much to his amusement, his fingers re-entering you roughly. John pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck, soothing your body from the sharp sensation, the slight pain exacerbating the pleasure arising from his mouth and fingers.

"I've barely started with you, and already you're begging for me to fuck you." He muttered into your skin, as he watched you writhe and lift your hips, reacting beautifully to the feelings he was reawakening within you.

"John, m’not fucking about, yeah? I need you," You whined, hand resting on his inner thigh, fingers grazing the fastenings across his groin, gazing up at him from your seat on his desk. John hated waiting for relief, he had very little patience, and almost immediately he gave in and collapsed into his large armchair, pulling you on top of him, letting you pin his wrists to the chair and grind against him as your mouth found his, then his neck, removing his waistcoat, shirt and tie, revealing his muscular chest. The bruising kisses you pressed to his skin left him breathless and needing more, helping you unbuckle his belt and push his suit trousers down his legs. You couldn’t help but take him into your hand, moving it up and down his sensitive shaft.

“Christ, you’re too fuckin’ good at this,” John groaned as you spit on your palm to better move your hand up and down his cock, teasing the sensitive tip with your fingers and tongue. He couldn’t help but watch you, keeping eye contact as you toyed with him, blue eyes heavy with pleasure and lust for more.

You angled your hips above him and he adjusted himself, using his hand to better push himself inside you. You yelped lightly as you adjusted to his girth, his mouth distracting you by pressing kisses on your shoulder and tangling his hands through your hair, trying to control his breaths as you adjusted to him, soft moans falling from your mouth, your tight cunt gripping his cock.

“S’fuckin’ perfect, like your pussy was made for me,” he groaned, breath growing heavier with the sensation of you grinding against him. Pushing his hips up into you, he couldn’t help but grab at your hip bones, grip burning into your skin, bouncing you on his cock, mouth slightly slack, groaning as he grasped at your flesh. You’d imagined hundreds of times how fucking irresistible John would look underneath you, but it was nothing compared to the real thing.

The thrill of having John Shelby with his trousers down in his office, quickly dissolving into a moaning and grunting mess with every rotation or twist of your hips, in the midst of a stormy night while the thunder echoed around the empty streets below was almost too much to take. You should be home right now, curled up in that empty unheated flat, behaving yourself. Even on a date or fucking someone else. But instead you'd gone to him and now you were riding him. You wanted the moment to last forever, right now everything felt so right, you knew when it was over the guilt would hit. But you couldn't avoid it, you could feel your legs start to shake.

“Look so god damn pretty ridin’ me, love. Makin’ me wanna cum inside you.” John growled, panting, struggling to keep pace as you moaned on top of him. Your fingers found his jawline and guided him to look up at you, craving to see how his face looked when he finally came undone. He reached between your legs, torturing your clit with his fingers while he slammed into you a few extra times, using up the rest of his energy. The extra stimulation pushed you over the edge, crying out John’s name as you felt yourself release. Watching you whine his name was the last straw for him, spilling into you as your dripping cunt squeezed him, reveling in the image of you a mess for him.

***

You finally came back to your senses, catching your breath, John clutching you to his chest protectively for a minute or two, enjoying the tranquility and post-sex clarity. He checked his clock, sighing and lifting you from his lap to his desk, running a towel under the sink in the corner of his room and passing it to you to clean up between your legs with.

"Charming," You smirked, tired but satisfied. "No wonder the ladies always come back for more."

"Not you though, aye? One night only exclusive, this." He matched your playful tone, but his eyes were dull with exhaustion and he looked almost upset. He was probably just knackered after working all day and then going overtime just to please you.

"Make yourself useful and grab my clothes for me John-lad." You teased, thankfully changing the subject. He rolled his eyes in the waning firelight, locating the clothes the two of you had left scattered around the room. You quickly dressed, not caring how he watched you silently, as though trying to memorize the image of you. Your clothes were far drier than earlier, the last remaining remnants of damp clutching to the fibers and freezing you all over again. Yet before you could even comment, John's wool coat was wrapped back around your shoulders.

"Because you're cold, not because you look fuckable in it." He said pointedly, smirking slightly, the edges seeming artificial.

"Remind me not to fall madly in love with you. Won't be able to help myself if you keep talking like that, Mr. Shelby." You retorted sarcastically with a grin, earning a gentle dig to the ribs.

"It's Mr. Shelby if you're trying to fuck me. John is between friends and family, right?"

"Someone better inform Mr. Solomons of that distinction, then," You paused, "Mr. Shelby."

"Don't be a fucking cocktease." He scolded with a small grin, grabbing his car keys and hat from the door. "You want a lift then? Don't dick about being polite, Y/N, it's fucking midnight, just accept it."

"Since you asked so nicely."

"You know you've got worse since you've been at uni? Too fast for us lot now." He teased, half serious, as he led you to his car. He couldn't believe the beautiful woman in his passenger seat was the girl with pigtails who'd chase Ada around the canal with their girl gang for hours, the pretty teen who read for hours in his sister's bedroom, comparing notes together. No one was surprised you got a scholarship to university, despite your gender and class. You'd been incredibly lucky. Yet, you'd seen the world and had come back to Birmingham and picked him.

Shame you could only pick him once.

[cyphersuna]

1. HUMAN DOGS

pairing: isaac lahey x fem!reader!mikaelson (Slow burn), derek hale x ex-lover!reader, mcCall pack x platonic!reader, original family x sister!reader, stiles stilinski x platonic!reader (at the moment)

sypnosis; Y/N Mikaelson arrives in a small town with the hope of becoming independent and having a new life but a near accident will turn her plans around and risk them knowing who he is.

Has the war of Original Vampires and Wolves started?

The smallest of the Mikealsons, will she be with a wolf?

Will Isaac accept Y/N?

warnings; none

author’s note: hello baeess, welcome to a new #saturdayofyouaremikaelson!!! I only hope you enjoy this chapter because your emotion excites me and if your emotion excites me, I will be excited to do more chapters to excite you. see you next week 😺

Word count; 1.7k

ﾟ･ 🌌ރ ੈ♡‧₊˚🎲 *ૢ✧ ۪ ♟️ ° ｡

YOU WERE ENTERING Beacon Hills while looking at the forest around you which looked spooky, possibly because it was night or they were infested with those human dogs. Possibly both. You still remember the faces of Niklaus, Kol and Elijah knowing that you would live here. You think it was the best thing in the world, but you get it. That your sister, the youngest of the Mikaelson clan, decides to move alone, with no one from her family nearby and in a "city" full of dogs. You would also worry.

It began to be heard on the radio lurk from the neighborhood to which you began to hum it. This century was very different: 16-year-olds look like 18 or 19, their type of clothing... You did not complain, it is better than the clothes of before.

Six teens and two adults appeared out of nowhere to which you stopped. You got out of the car and they watched you from head to toe. One in particular made your blood run cold. Derek Hale...

You sighed and spoke.

"Forgiveness! Are you okay?" You asked, and the bearded one came up to you.

"What are you doing here?" He asks and you start to breathe. Human dogs have to hear it and feel it so they know that you are not something supernatural. Speaking of that title, it's the best series and more daddy Dean. You pulled myself out of your thoughts and looked from left to right to fix your gaze on the dark haired man.

"Me?" He nodded. "Sorry. Do I know you?"

"Don't act, Mikaelson," he snap at and Peter comes closer to both of you. The Good Peter, he was more your brother than the ones you have, well not so much like that but he was like a brother.

"I think you're wrong" you say to see him in the eyes. "My name is not like that" you say playing stupid, well! When you don't? Coming here you thought that Derek and Peter would leave and more because of what happened to his sister who did not doubt that Peter would kill her. But just in case you knew you would have to change your first and last name.

"It's not a name," says the older of the two raising an eyebrow. "What's your name?" He ask.

"Diane Jones" you say pretending to be a little scared. You saw how Derek would glare at you deadly and the teens stared at the scene in confusion. Wow! The redhead's shoes were fantastic.

"What brings you to Beacon Hills?" Asked Peter.

"I came to live here" you respond.

"Alone?" Said the one with black hair, super furious. He looked sexier like that. "Without your parents?"

"Excuse me, but I don't have to tell you anything" You walked back and Derek took your arm tightly and the children approached looking worried.

"You won't leave until you answer." Peter put his hand on Derek's shoulder with a "calm down" look

"And your parents?" He asks calmly.

"I do not have. I'm an orphan" you say looking at your feet. Seriously, you deserve an Oscar for best actress.

"How did you get here?" Peter still asked.

"My uncles sent me here to study and not cause problems" you say looking at Peter.

"Don't li-" Derek says to be interrupted.

"It's not her" said Peter. "Listen" as you said, breathing helps and more if it is accelerated when you feel threatened.

"Can I go?" You asked.

"Yes" Peter says. You walked to your car and your turned it on to continue on your way, when you saw that you were far away you start to laugh. Derek's faces and the wolf children, the banshee, and the humans were gold.

You arrived at your new home. You smiled when you saw that it was normal, not big and not too small. A normal house. It was supposed to be furnished since yesterday. You got out of your car and opened to see the living room, you closed the door and walked into the kitchen and up the stairs. You went into all the rooms and they were perfect and yours was much more.

It was big, being a Mikaelson it couldn't be small. You were already beginning to miss them. Well not all. Elijah and Rebekah's overproduction were suffocating. Also you will no longer be listening "little Klaus" or "little Kol" You're not like them, you just like to have fun. And you like being with them more. Kol and you, hunted and had fun at parties and flirting with people. Klaus gave you life lessons. You were amused by his stories and how could he be so... him. Of your seven siblings, you only loved Kol and Klaus, of course you had your differences: you were friends with Katherine and Klaus hates her, you love the Salvatore brothers with your life and they detest them, even more. You lay down on the bed and you smiled a smile that only bring problems.

Isaac Lahey Pov

"It was her," Derek says, somehow I felt concern and more to see how he reacted when he saw the girl as our age.

"Who is she?" Scott ask.

"Y/N Mikaelson" Peter said calmly.

"And she is...?" Stiles question them.

"She is one of the Originals and Derek's great love," Peter replies.

"Original of what?" Lydia ask.

"From the Original Vampires," Derek says angrily.

"They exist?" Almost all of us say at the same time.

"Yes. And between them the two hybrid of Vampire and werewolf" explains Peter.

"What is a hybrid?" Allison ask to which Stiles responds.

"Hybrids are a supernatural cross between two or more different species. The term is commonly used to describe a werewolf turned vampire, as they were the first type of hybrid introduced to the world. However, since the creation of the werewolf-vampire hybrids, there have been other hybrids of other races in the universe, such as siphons turned into witch-vampire hybrids, werewolf-witch hybrids, among others" he says to finish.

"How do you know that?" Asks Scott.

"I read it when I was trying to find out what you were, but I thought the vampire thing was a lie," Stiles responds.

"A hybrid is more lethal than any werewolf or vampire" Says Derek. "Nature does not tolerate such an imbalance of power. Thus, the warlocks, the servants of nature, saw to it that the wolfish side of Klaus and Y/N Mikaelson are asleep. But they are still a danger.

"Who are the Mikaelsons?" I ask.

"The Mikaelson family is a powerful family whose line goes back at least to the Kingdom of Norway in the late 10th century with Mikael and Esther, a wealthy landowner and a Viking warrior, and a housewife and a witch, respectively. In the early 11th century, the family was deadly until the loss of Esther and Mikael's seventh child, Henrik to a werewolf attack that spurred them to use Esther's magic to turn Mikael and the rest of their living children into the The world's first vampires, from whom all Vampires are descended from the original vampires, are known as the most powerful supernatural beings in the world, but the Mikaelson family is also known to have members who are also witches and hybrids. Among them are two hybrids: Klaus and Y/N. In total the Mikaelsons are eight; Mikael, the father, Esther, the mother, Freya, The first daughter which is only a witch and does not belong to the original lineage, Finn, The second son, Elijah, the third son, Klaus, the fourth son which is the hybrid and is not the son of Mikael but bears his last name, Kol, the fifth son, Rebekah, the sixth daughter, Y/N, the seventh daughter which is not the daughter of Mikael and the last, Henrik, the eighth son. Of these eight only are alive: Freya, Elijah, Klaus, Kol, Rebekah and Y/N" Derek answers.

''They wasted no time," Stiles says.

"Neither is Esther. Children of different parents" I say smiling. "But how did "first hybrids" happen?

"When Klaus and Y/N first killed after being turned into vampires, they triggered their werewolf gene, which finally reveals the truth of their true paternity to their family: Klaus and Y/N were not Mikael's children but the boss's children of her village werewolf clan, with whom Esther had an affair. Once Mikael learned of Esther's infidelity and realized that her lover's pack were the werewolves who killed Henrik, Mikael hunted down and killed Klaus and Y/N's father and his entire family, igniting a war. Between vampires and werewolves that still exists. Shortly after the Mikaelsons became vampires and learned of Klaus and Y/N werewolves' legacy, Esther was forced to curse Klaus and Y/N to make their werewolf natures lie dormant, so that they didn't bother yet. More to nature by possessing so much power. However, Klaus and Y/N felt betrayed by this punishment, and in retaliation, Klaus murdered his mother and framed Mikael for the act. Understood?" Peter asks and I nod.

"I'm more than sure it's her!" Derek exclaims.

"It has to be her, if you questioned her or just stopped...-Lydia says to be interrupted by Peter.

"It's her Doppelgänger..."

Y/N Mikaelson Pov

You got out of the tub while you were dripping to grab the towel and start drying off. Tomorrow would be your first day in high school, you had never attended one and according to Caroline and Stefan they are very good, also Rebekah go into one and she looks older than you. You wrapped the towel around your body and left the bathroom to go to your room. You dropped the towel while you felt the air all over your body, you took off your underwear from the wardrobe and then put on a loose shirt and some pajama shorts. You go down to the kitchen for some whiskey and you go back upstairs. You arranged your things for tomorrow and left them arranged so that you only had to go...

masterlist

˚༉🎠·₊✧ 🧺 ϟ₊˚🎻ミ༉‧🍫₊˚

previously in you are a mikaelson > next

Taglist

@blessednereid @itmejado @rottenstyx @chloe-skywalker

[katerix]

(How old is New Vegas? And it’s still my fav part! I feel like I need more Raul content even after all these years🥺)

Drink with the living dead

Characters: Raul Tejada x Reader Summary:  Courier and her companion returned to New Vegas after a long wandering to get a drink and gamble, but faced serious inhospitality. Six was not ready to leave her friend behind, so they changed their plans. Warnings: - Words: 2781

***

It was almost half past midday, when a dusty dirty road to New Vegas welcomed the wanderers with just another sandstorm without any declaration of war. Courier’s mirror aviator sunglasses could hardly stand that gusts of winds, so she decided to hide it in the pocket of her jacket until the better times. Six and her ghoul-companion were on foot for nearly five hours, and now the hightower of «Lucky 38» looked huge in contradiction from its look an hour ago.

It was not their first visit to New Vegas, but every time she saw a glowing and sparkling casino’s signs, she was bringing up the idea of going there and wasting an evening gambling and drinking. Just like everyone does. The fact that she spent here some time, passing all the entertaining places by, met with Mr. House and performed several missions for NCR ambassador, but still never took a break to try some of those things, these poor fellows from all Mojave wasteland were arriving for - was a crime by its definition.

Coddling this thought, Courier continued to trudge the nasty weather, until they walked up to the Northern gates of Freeside.

- What’s the plan when we reach Strip, boss? - asked Raul, shaking his dull-green jumpsuit down: it all was full of pervasive grains of sand, as well as the girl’s clothes.

- At first I wanna visit the «Lucky 38» apartment and change the outfit, then go to the bar and win big in the kazino!

- Perfect plan, chief, ironclad like my revolver. - the ghoul was sarcastic as usual, but didn’t evince any sight of disagreement.

When she turned around to continue movement, he added: “Wait, amigo, there's a tuft of straw stuck under your collar.” - and carefully extracted an annoying piece of flora, stuck to during the storm.

“Gracias!” - Six smiled widely and made a fast gesture of gratitude with her hand. Without wasting time, they passed heavy metallic gates.

Freeside met companions with a funky, stinking smell. She still couldn't get used to it. Dusty air seemed to mar the cityscape: it looked much pale and lighter than from the outside. Just fifteen minutes and they’ll reach the destination. The picture couldn’t be called unusual for this time of the day in this part of town: one or two shabby hobos against the dingy walls, kids in wrecked clothes playing a tag-game in the area of the «Mick & Ralph's», random citizens with roving glances, sneaking around, wasting their time in an idle attempts to figure out how to spend their life in this Dump. On the other hand, there are many places where people live even worse: take a look at Westside, for instance.

«What a hopeless sight, - thought the girl. - Hope the Followers are really able to do something about this in the future».

- Something on your mind, boss? - it felt like nothing could hide from Raul’s inquisitive look.

- Just thinking. I find this picture quite dismal, like there’s no tomorrow, and humanity is still doomed. Like there’s no chance to restore life, as it was before.

- When we are on the road again, I’ll tell you about the Football Cup in Mexico, if you like to hear another one “before the Bomb” story. - he obviously picked up on her mood and decided to cheer up the girl, carefully diverting the theme.

- I do. Have you attended it?

- Sure thing. That was a big day. We drove to the capital to see it with our own eyes.

- Sounds pretty good! Let’s not ruin the intrigue.

- You asked.

They passed a small cross-road, which didn't have to be called like that anymore, as it was just one of the ghosts of the past with it’s burned skeletons of cars, left here motionless as evidence of human lost ambitions. The air in this part of the town was stale, despite the fact that they were in the streets, the smell of some broiling meat and spoiled vegetables was sticky like an ant's nectar. Sudden wild cryings and shouts were heard from the nearest dead end. 

One glance was enough to understand that the Kings had cornered swashers, their prey, who were too fucked up and all-fired sure of themselves to attack the town’s main showrunners just a couple of minutes ago. And the Courier was not going to do anything about that: she herself was nearly butchered by one of them, shown up from nowhere. If it was not her loyal companion who dealt with it with one precise shot, she, probably, would be dead by now.

It took more than ten minutes to cover the distance between the East and Strip gates - right now there was no reason to hurry. As they got closer, the protectrons took up their positions immediately. One of them articulated “Move along” with a familiar metallic cold of lifeless voice of his, when companions were passing by.

“Never liked these guys. They are like slow mines: you never know what they do the next second.” - grunted out the Courier, as two of them found themselves on the first line of the Strip between “Lucky 38” and “Gomorrah”.

“Hey, so who is an old one here?” - the ghoul chuckled in response.

She went ahead, so he could never see how her lips slightly bended in a ready-to-laugh smile.

***

Presidential luxe met nomads with a deep, wrapping silence of a broad, gloomy space. This was definitely not the place a person could wish to stay in: walls with, once being gorgeous - now - greasy dark-wine wallpapers were giving an oppressive feeling. Six was happy that they didn’t have to stay here for long. Only to sleep or change the outfit maybe.

She got near to the wardrobe in her room, where the majority of things, accumulated during the long travels, were stored. Took out two dresses, went to the guest-room with a billiards. Raul was civilly waiting for her there.

- What you think? Which one?

He raised up his head, looked from under the sunglasses for several seconds, examining, and answered in a casual tone:

- It’s really up to you, boss. - made a pause, then added, like a little confused: - But I like the pink one. Might look graceful.

- Great! Exactly the one I wanted to pick.

The ghoul just gave her a hesitant nod, wondering if she noticed that detail. Courier went back to her sleeping-room and returned after some minutes, informing: “Ready to go! The next stop is “Ultra-Luxe”, yee-haw!”

***

After a while they were in the street again. All they needed was just to reach the second line of the Strip and pass a hundred meters to the “Ultra-Luxe”. Lots of NCR soldiers were hanging around, goofing off, as long as they had a chance, and indulging in lust in the nearest private clubs. Nothing unexpectable. When they passed by a small group of drunk, barely balancing on their feet big guys, Six suddenly heard a hushed voice from behind her back, addressing his teammates. “Do they let ghouls on the Strip now? Perfect, let’s make it a spooky ghost-town.”

“Yeah. That’s why civilization will start floating away again. Our attempts are meaningless.”

Only just Courier wanted to turn around and shout out something to those sons of a b or event take out a gun and shoot beneath their feet, Raul caught her arm:

- Hey, hey, calm down, that’s okay. NCRs are many here, you know, even for a dashing rider like you, boss. Even with me backing you up. From behind the farthest stone.

- But we can’t simply swallow that shit, Raul!

He just spreaded his hands:

- Fine, then go shoot them and be killed by protectrones because of two drunk idiots. Very helpful, chief. I’ll stay all alone, without my beloved companion but with a protected pride. Thank’s.

Six stood still for some seconds and nodded after that.

- Fine. Whatever.

Then merely continued walking in the direction of the cazino. The ghoul hesitated for a bit. He understood that she was acting out of good intentions and she just wanted to protect her partner, as she was the one who had a right of speech here. And that made his heart melt and he was silently praising her for that, because nobody seemed to do anything like that for him in a while. But picking a fight with these dummies, who fill the streets of Strip like water fills the canyon, was not wise.

“Sorry for that, Niña. I really appreciate what you do. I just don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. You don’t notice, but there are often lots of sidelong looks and hardly heard whisperings along the way. I'm used to it and don’t want it to affect you.” - he tried to lighten things up.

The girl turned her head a bit just for him to see her glance softening.

- Let’s just reach the bar and relax.

*** 

An unexpected trouble struck them further - black line has not ended yet. Courier already picked her place at the bar desk in the distant hall and ordered a glass of whiskey, when a bartendress leaned over and said in a low tone:

“I’m sorry, but here, in “Ultra-Luxe”, we serve only the citizens and guests of the Strip. I’m able to bring a drink only for you, ma’m.”

That was the last drop of her patience. The girl slowly raised her head at the bartendress, ready to blow up, and responded:

- Are you fucking kidding me?

- That’s the rule. I don’t need problems. You can ask any guard or another worker.

She bowed her head and gave a fast hidden glance at her ghoul-companion. He was sitting there next to her and looking straight at his arms crossed on the desk, like he had nothing to do with it. But he, of course, heard every word. His eyes weren't moving, just a finger was slightly knocking the air, producing a rhythm he alone knew. Six couldn’t even imagine what her friend might feel at the moments like that. An anger came upon her.

“Are you all that scumbags here? Keep your drinks for acceptable ones. Ma’m.” - the girl said, getting up from her barstool and heading towards the exit.

Raul stood up without a word and, as he always did, followed Courier. He had mixed emotions. On the one hand he was glad they left that place and that Six is such a kind and loyal partner, but on the other hand he felt a little guilty for himself. After all, it was him who was the reason for such inhospitality in some kind of place. Even now she couldn’t get what she wished for so hard. Her idea of “winning big” in the kazino seemed to be falling apart, as together they won’t be even let to the gambling table. And she, obviously, won’t leave him in the street and have fun on her own, and an old ghoul didn’t want to be a ball and chain.

- Boss? Are you sure we need to leave? Maybe you’d better stay there? And I’d wait for you somewhere else or go back to “Lucky 38”. Fresh air won’t do any harm for my old lungs.

- What are you even talking about? You know, even the best drink worth nothing, if there’s no one to share it with.

- You have a heart of gold, chiff. - these words came fast, in an undertone, as if he was embarrassed, - Well, I saw a small sign in Freeside. I believe we’ve never been in that part of the city before.

- Hope it’s not an «Atomic Wrangler».

- Nope.

- Great! You lead. They passed the ruins, generously spread all over the suburbs, while every their step sounded louder thanks to trash, small pieces of brick and other rubbish. The sun was already going down and the heat was getting less intense.

Finally they reached a small inconspicuous wooden door. Only a little sign next to it represented that place as a bar.

As they entered, nothing changed. There was not much to be changed. There were no crowds of gamblers, no fancy casino machines and no shiny-polished bar desk. Bartender was a man in old ragged clothes, probably in his late fifties. He was slowly wiping cut glasses with a gray dusty piece of fabric full of holes.

When the companions stepped in the room he just looked up at them without raising up his head and got back to his plain, simple activity. There were not many customers besides the two of them. A woman was sleeping on the table in the far corner - her head rested on her arms while her shoulders were calmly going up and down. Another guest settled down at the edge of the bar desk.

“Fancy,” - giggled the girl.

“Ah, let’s get down. Ladies first.” - Raul just waved his hand.

Six made a few steps in the direction of the bar desk and sat down, Raul followed her.

“Barman! Two beers, please”. - she laid some bottle caps in front of him.

The barkeeper took them and then put two opened bottles onto the surface.

“Bon appetit.”

Courier took her bottle up and clinked it loudly with Rauls one. His soft non-blinking sight of half closed eyes was locked on hers, while he made a sip. His heart always went pop when it felt like there were just two of them in the world, though he never showed that.

Raul looked around and suddenly his eyes stopped on a guitar lurked behind the racks.

“Hey, can I…?”

The barman followed ghoul’s gaze and shrugged his shoulders: “This piece of wood? Be my guest.”

In the next second he was on his feet. The courier raised her eyebrows as she almost forgot if she saw him that agile. Raul approached the metal shelves, put aside some garbage and waste paper, then carefully extracted the instrument and blew away the dust.

Six and the bartender were watching him closely. The ghoul got back to his chair, sat down crossing his legs to position the guitar more comfortably. Then pulled the first string to check out the tuning. It was no surprise that it was out of tune, so the next minute Raul spent trying to fix the instrument.

When everything, as he thought, was ready, he played a couple of notes in fingerstyle to flex some life back into his fingers. After nearly 200 years the skill was obviously weakened.

“I didn’t know that you could play the guitar.” - said the girl.

“Sure you didn’t. I never told about that.” - he looked back at her with a little smirk, - “What was the point if there were no music instruments left anyway?”

He laid his right arm down on the body of the guitar, fingers on the cracked wooden surface, and took a deep breath.

At first Courier could hardly hear or see the slightest movement of ghoul's fingers on strings, but soon the sound became more clear. She was sitting there with a bottle in her hand, unable to look away from her companion.

The sound of slow mexican melody floated across the room, filling every corner of the room with itself. The windows were closed with wooden boards from the outside, so the sunlight was trickling down through narrow gaps between them. Warm light was leaving gold-yellow lines on the walls, tables and the bardesk where the Courier and Raul were sitting. She could even see the tiniest specks of dust freeze in the air. The ghouls face was half hidden by a shadow and the sunbeams were highlighting one of his eyes which now looked like a beautiful transparent crystal and his hands all covered with veins and partially with thin skin.

The whole space imbued with peace and calm, even the impenetrable bartender set his glass aside and leaned his head on the hand, listening to the sensual music.

They travelled together for a while now, but never before had Six seen him the way she did now. Something new was arising in her soul.

“Hey chief,” - Raul closed his eyes and slightly threw back his head grinning a little, fingers still dancing over the strings. - ”You’re the best friend and partner one could ever wish for, you know. Thank you for always being on my side.”

“Raul, I’ll never leave my partner in crime behind!” - she chuckled as she felt like something pinned her heart.

The ghoul continued playing the tune without opening his eyes. A grin turned into a soft smile and the feeling of joy span all over him for the first time in a while.

“I’m following you to the world’s end, boss.”

Also, here’s a link to this fanfic on my AO3 (gif is mine \ use credits if repost)

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

The Word Of Your Body Duet (Roland x Rin Davies)

Andante, Andante

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: angst, bit of fluff mixed in with smut, one outdated word,

A/N: Everyone has their secrets, but sometimes we need someone to share them with. Roland just chooses his last night to let Rin in on his. This is a follow-up to Songbird

Roland sat on the edge of Rin's bed while she paced back and forth anxiously in front of him. Since he came over earlier in the evening, they only managed to kiss until their lips swelled. Rin had taken her gloves off, but refused to touch Roland anywhere with bare skin.

“I don't understand. You said I do nothing to ye?”

“You-you don't,” Rin stuttered. “At least not normally. This isn’t normal, Roland. We've known each other for over a year, and until yesterday neither of us have given any inkling that we are attracted to each other. I mean who wouldn't be attracted to you? Look at you, you're terribly handsome.”

Roland cocked an eyebrow, “Handsome in a terrible way. I'll admit t’the terrible part. I can be a bit..”

“Of a twat?”

“Much. It's the handsome part I don't know I’d agree with. There's not exactly a line around the block.”

“I just don't like surprises. I've had things happen.. To me. I can't take that again.”

Roland reached out and hooked his fingers in the belt loops of Rin’s jeans. He drew her down into his lap, his arms held her in place.

“First you’re giving me motion sickness watching all that back and forth. Second will ye just bloody touch me?! Anywhere, you'll see something I've never told anyone at this school. Not that I have friends besides you.”

Rin’s heart fell. That really couldn't be the truth? Roland wasn't all that bad, he was just a little.. blunt. Not that she had friends, present company aside. It was difficult for Rin to get close with anyone in case their true personalities showed through. She had a knack for telling people their feelings before they were even ready.

“What if I don't like what I see?”

“It's nothing that salacious. Just a wee bit I suppose,” there was a shrug in his shoulder. “If ye don't like it, ye never have t’see me again.”

“Why do you keep saying that like another semester won't roll around?”

“I'm moving to Perth,” he said matter of fact.

“AUSTRALIA?!” Rin was gobsmacked.

“Jupiter!” Roland gave a mock surprised face that teased the girl on his lap.

Rin shoved Roland somewhere between serious and playful. “Oh don't be a bastard!”

“I can't be one! My parents were married!” his brows furrowed in fake consternation. “As far as I know at least?” He stroked his chin in deep thought.

“Can you ever talk without sarcasm or snark?!”

“I'm like Tinkerbell, but I must be acerbic to live!”

Rin’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head. The banter was so natural between them. In that weird way you never notice how much you want or need someone until they won't be there tomorrow. She became instantly pained. Rin had never felt as at-ease with anyone, sharing her secrets and her songs as openly as she did with Roland.

Now her voice was soft and sad, “What's in Oz you can't find here?”

“They offered me a place at their sister conservancy. I've got family over there too. What's left of them.”

Roland nudged his nose against Rin’s. He nuzzled downwards and along her cheek. Taking a chance in kissing her once more where his nose had been. He let his lips linger on her skin, so she knew he would be an open book if she wanted. Even if it was just a day or so before he left her.

Rin draped her arms around Roland’s shoulders before kissing him again. There was a heat, that taste of smoke. Of trailers and RVs all parked together around campfires and music. Then a spice of peppers as his tongue overpowered hers. His kisses taste like Travellers, once called Gypsy.

Roland’s mouth was hungry for her as he awkwardly reached for the hem of her shirt. Desperate to feel Rin, she could tell. All of her. There was nothing sinister about his intentions. Just fiddles and drums and whiskey.

In a blur of laughter and limbs, Rin and Roland clambered to their feet to strip down to their underwear. She flattened her scarred hands on his chest. For someone who could see into someone's mind or emotions, how did Rin miss his olive skin? Those subtle differences that would've given him such grief if others knew.

Rin said it out loud in the sudden quiet. only Roland’s wild heartbeat under her fingers and heavy breath that builds. “You're a gypsy.”

Her eyes focused on his body. An ache between her thighs as she glanced down at the erection inside of his boxers. He wasn't embarrassed. In fact, he was quite confident for Roland at this moment.

Roland’s hands were in Rin’s hair. Entangled so that they tugged her head upwards with a pleasurable pain. She was forced to meet his eyes as he leaned down to mesh his mouth with hers again. His tongue darted in swiftly before she reciprocated. He let his hands stray down over her body to the hook of her bra where he fumbled but only briefly before it came free.

“Not anymore,” Roland’s voice thick.

“I'm sorry. Traveller?” Rin was apologetic.

Her hips involuntarily pushed into his as she lightly brushed her fingers down his body. They traced around his waist to the small of his back. That dip just above the band of his boxers.

“No, I mean I'm not a Traveller or a gypsy anymore. Best assimilate with the other gorja. Being “normal” has made everything easier.”

There was a sadness now in Roland's flesh. It flowed just underneath the surface as Rin embraced him. Her experience with tents and churches and people “speaking in tongues” as her parents forced her to perform “miracles” on blind faith punters bubbled over her surface and spread to Roland’s.

“Wren. It wasn't like that. I'm sad because I miss them. I'm ashamed of turning my back on the people who raised me. That's where I fell in love with music. C’mon you’re ruining our last night!”

Roland let go and laid on the bed with his back to the wall. He propped himself up on his elbow and tapped the bed a few times. “Let me take care of you?” An eyebrow arched suggestively.

“You know what you're doing?”

Still, Rin laid down beside Roland on her back. He bent forward with a hand on her neck and pecked her lips softly. Once. Twice, before she opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue. They mingled and danced with each other as Rin slipped her hand inside the fly of Roland’s boxers so she could trace her fingers along his erection.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Roland’s stomach contracted at her touch. Rin knew it was more of a delighted surprise as her hand now curled around the shaft and began to stroke back and forth. Her fingertips worked up a friction as he finally exhaled heavily into her. Then, with just a moment’s hesitation, palmed her between the legs.

Rin’s turn to gasp in pleasure as he rubbed swift circles on her underwear. Teased her until a wetness formed that he pushed the fabric aside to get to. His fingers easily slid in and out of her until they almost started to play. Hooked and curved like she was guitar strings. Rin clenched her eyes shut in ecstasy as she broke the kiss to bury her hand at a pillow. With their guard down, Roland began to play.

Rin got lost in the way his fingers moved inside of her. They searched and learned as they went. She felt Roland’s eyes on her as he darted in over her G-Spot, but Rin thought that to be accidental. Still he forged on; only stopping when her body started to jerk just slightly. He kept at it once he realized that was her clit.

Roland craned again to cover Rin’s mouth with a kiss. His hand never ended manipulating her as he opened a door to her gifts. She was at her most vulnerable, and welcomed him in.

Roland stood just outside the caravan his family spent their summers. He and his Dá had their rows over the enrollment at the conservancy. How had he saved that much money, and why had he disobeyed the rules of the family? Every penny earned went to them, the community. Not some gorja school in Cork.

Roland knew if he left he would be excommunicated from them. He couldn't return, they would make sure he wouldn't be able to find them. Still, with his kit and guitar he looked ahead and never back. He wouldn't always blend in; when he hit it big, Roland would pay them their respect.

By first year's end, gifted students like him were set up with mentors. Someone who had been around the program for a few years. She was pretty with soul piercing blue eyes and jet black hair. Roland was smitten.

Unused to outsiders who moved kind of slow compared to Traveller girls who weren't afforded time. They married by 17 or 18; his own mother was only 33 years old while Roland was 18. Yet in his culture, sex before marriage was unheard of. They dated in large chaperoned groups, and being alone with a woman was forbidden until marriage. His mentor took advantage of that. Of him.

It started the way some flings do, innocent flirting. Then one day as they sat side by side on the piano bench, she stopped playing and made a pattern of nothing on Roland’s thigh. She lightly scratched the denim material before passing over his crotch. Roland played faster to match his breathing as she started to tighten her grip on his noticeable erection. She unzipped his jeans, delved inside his boxers to take his naked cock in her hand. His improvised playing matched the way she began to jerk him off. Frenzied. Clandestine. Wanton. His music and the way he felt were both.. Perfect.

That's the way she did it. Told him it was more fun to keep it hidden. Just between them when it was their time in the practice suites. How powerful it made Roland feel to have a secret like that. How she went down on him some days. Or when they finally fucked (Roland was convinced it was more) on the piano bench. She rode him while he admitted he loved her. He always said he loved her. She would ignore him.

His scores faltered a bit, but his teachers agreed it was probably the adjustment to conservancy life. He was still better than nearly everyone, which made his head grow. Until one afternoon when they were in the room. A surprise.

Roland laid on top of Rin, her legs bent around him. He dug through the pockets of his jeans almost frantically. He was pressed hard into her thigh, but Rin urged him inside of her.

“What are you doing?”

“I forgot a condom.”

“Doesn't matter”

“Do ye really want t’have a baby with someone like me?”

“I can't have them,” Rin was matter of fact.

“Oh.. I'm sorry?” Roland pushed up on one arm to get a better look at her.

“I don't know if you should be. I'm not exactly chuffed with myself half days, imagine me as a mum. With my,” she held her hands aloft. Roland kissed them.

“Then you're meant for so much more.” It was a whisper as he sunk inside of his friend.

Rin’s breath caught in her throat for the hundredth time that evening. She held Roland as he moved in her the same way his fingers had. Her hands splayed along his shoulders as they found a cadence; silent except for their breathing. Roland’s heavy. Rin's airy as she realized a little more about him.

She was married. With a little girl about 7 or 8. Roland knew her husband as the head of the classical music department. Roland’s department. He listened as they talked about him like an art exhibit instead of a human. technique not passion.

But the husband found out, and Roland was placed in the folk music program. It just made him heart sick for Ireland and caravans and Sunday night cèilidh. How he couldn't go back, but she had stopped him from moving forward. Folk music, HIS music, required love and emotion and Roland had been told he was only good for the technical.

Then he did something he hadn't done since he was 3 or 4, Roland just stopped. He'd play something that was mechanical and cold and hard like he would become. Even if Rin had changed his view these past few months.

Rin loved Roland in that moment as he rocked harder and faster. And he loved her. It wasn't the romantic kind; that was ok too. Sometimes you just need a partner to play music with.

Tag list: @robertsheehanownsmyass @nightmonsters @super-unpredictable98 @sean-falco @magic-multicolored-miracle @forenschik @crisis-of-joy @slutforrobbiebro @firstpersonnarrator

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Nine: Letters, Lovers and Loyalties

A/N: This is the ninth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2185

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

Yet another letter dropped into the lap of Aria Dumbledore as she sat absentmindedly sketching. Dropping her quill back into the small pot of ink which balanced on the arm of her chair, a small sigh escaped her lips. She had been expecting another to arrive any day now.

Aria allowed herself a small glance in the direction of her desk where the ever growing pile of unopened letter sat gathering dust. Disregarding her drawing, Aria traveled to her desk, fingers fumbling with the edge of the envelope. Admittedly, Aria's mind had been focused on that small pile of letters the past few days, and consequently the man who sent them. She couldn't bring herself to reply to his constant inquiries, but she had considered there was no harm in opening a few of them. She longed to hear from him, though she had been in denial for so long now she wasn't sure what to expect from his most recent letters.

Waiting no longer she ripped the paper from its wax seal, her eyes quickly scanning every word on the page.

My dear Aria, Though I know you say you cannot reply to my letters, I write them all with the hope that you will find the time in your busy schedule to at least read them. As always things are quiet here without you. Too quiet. I miss your voice. I miss hearing you sing to yourself in the shower thinking no one can hear you, I miss hearing you hum as you wander aimlessly through the house, I miss watching you draw as I pose for you, but most importantly I miss holding you in my arms. I long for the end of the school year when we will be reunited and I will have nothing to miss except maybe writing these letters. I long for a response to my letters, my darling. I simply must know that you miss me as I miss you. In the mean time I will continue to write to you to keep myself distracted from everything terrible happening in the world, by simply thinking of you. All my love, S.

Aria couldn't help but feel a great pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach for ignoring the letters, but she couldn't bare the thought of reading them, while she was still coming to terms with how she felt when she decided to leave for Hogwarts. She knew immediately she would not be able to maintain a long distance relationship with him. Though he was the first man she had ever loved she had been too cowardly to confess her feelings for him in person, let alone on a piece of parchment. She knew she was a pathetic coward from the moment he told her he loved her and she could not find it in her to return the favour. Her cowardice was more than proven the day she left for Hogwarts. Aria had planned to break up with him, to avoid further heartbreak down the line. But she could not even find the courage to do that.

Instead she was living in denial. In her mind they had broken up, and refused to face up to whatever she was truly feeling until it was absolutely necessary. Her plan had been to distract herself as much as possible, suppress her feelings and just forget about the situation completely. And to be totally honest her plan had been working for her, with the exception of a few off days such as today. However when it came time to wake up and face the music she had no idea what her plan would be then.

Leaving the letter open on her desk she took a stroll around the grounds of Hogwarts to clear her mind. The time to figure out all of her problems was not now. She was still a young, carefree woman and she didn't want the burden of guilt stopping her from living her life however she so wished.

Arias walk led her to the village of Hogsmeade, and after working up a light sweat, the young professor opted to pop into the Three Broomsticks to quench her thirst.

Unsurprisingly for a late Tuesday evening the place was barren. Besides for a drunken wizard practically falling off his bar stood, a crazy witch whispering to herself and two well dressed men, sitting out of place in a side booth, the place was completely deserted. Planning to only stay for a pumpkin juice Aria took a seat at the bar and begun chatting to the same barmaid who had served her and Severus all those weeks ago.

"Busy night?" Aria joked, rolling her eyes at the drunk to her right.

The woman laughed in return, handing over a glass of pumpkin juice. "This is pretty much the standard, at this time." She shrugged, polishing off a perfectly clean glass, to keep herself busy. "That one over there doesn't even order anything, but its not worth the hassle kicking her out." She gestured to the old hag in the corner, her perfectly polished nails glistening in the dim bar light.

"I wish I could say I felt sorry for you, but a break away from the chaos that is Hogwarts is a slight relief." Aria sighed. She was still not used to being around so many people all the time having spent the past few years alone, besides her mother, she often needed time alone to breathe.

"Oh, then you must be new. I've had my fair share of lonely professors spend an evening behind my bar, and I usually remember who's spilled their whole life story to me. Though you do look familiar, what do you teach?" She finished up with her glasses, leaning her elbows on the bar to get a closer look at the younger woman, her breasts practically falling out her blouse.

"I'm just an apprentice for now. I'm the new Potions Mistress." Aria smiled, taking a small sip of her drink.

"Oh yes, now I remember. You came here with that Severus. He's not unfamiliar with our whiskey selection, if you know what I mean." Both women rolled their eyes in unison. "He doesn't seem to talk much though, I can't say I know anything about him. I must admit I was surprised to see him with a gorgeous young witch like yourself."

"You weren't the only one." Aria scoffed, finishing off her pumpkin juice.

"Well it makes a little bit more sense now." She laughed, a set of pristine pearly teeth emerging from her red glossy lips.

It seemed Aria was not the only one who had been admiring the woman's beauty, and almost right on cue the drunk decided to look a little bit more lively, demanding another pint. Reluctantly the barmaid obliged, shooting Aria an apologetic look.

Aria couldn't help but notice the gruff looking man practically throw himself over the bar in order to get a good gawk at the barmaids behind. The slightly older woman seemed unfazed by the mans actions, in-fact Aria wasn't entirely unsure she wasn't enjoying the attention. Choosing not to interrupt as neither party seemed to object to the altercation, Aria kept her mouth shut.

That was until the man's attention turned to her. The barmaid disappeared from view, presumably to refill the barrel the drunk had practically drowned himself in. "Haven't seen you around here before." He started harmlessly, though Aria did not miss the way his eyes seemed to scan the whole of her body.

"Just moved into Hogwarts, haven't seen much of Hogsmeade." Aria admitted, but made the conscious decision to turn away from him, hoping not to engage in any further conversation.

"You a friend of Ros'" He asked, intrigued, while downing a good half of his pint.

"Not really, no." Aria shrugged. "I didn't even know her name until just now."

"Rosalind Rookwood." He edged his seat closer to Arias. "Fantastic barmaid, though I wouldn't say it was her best profession." He winked.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Aria turned her nose up at the man, just praying he would leave her alone.

"Well, you know, bein' a barmaids fine an all, but it doesn't always pay the bills. Miss Rookwood's got her fair share of stories to tell, and not all of them her own." He laughed, the potent stench of his alcoholic breath suffocating Aria as he leaned in closer, wrapping a heavy arm around her shoulders. "If it turns out teaching isn't for you, just know you'll have a loyal customer in me." He hiccuped, his free arm, reaching down to stroke the woman's exposed thigh.

Instinctively Aria gripped onto his wrist, forcing it off of her. "What the hell do you think you are doing!?" Aria exclaimed, pushing the man away from her. "Don't you dare lay your hands on me again."

The drunk showed no sign of guilt or remorse, he simply chuckled to himself, revealing a shocking lack of teeth. Disgusted, Aria made to move but found herself cornered against the bar.

Fortunately the altercation had caused enough disruption to alert the two men having a casual evening drink. Instantly one rushed over to her aid, stupefying the old man. The second man followed suit and made it his business to remove the frozen figure from the bar.

"Are you alright?" The first man asked, his brow furrowing with worry.

"I'm fine, thank you for stepping in." Aria smiled, brushing herself down, as though she was riding herself from the drunks disgusting touch.

The man returned a boyish grin, his eyes bright blue and full of kindness. Aria had never seen anyone like him. His presence was almost cartoon like, with positivity radiating from him. Aria couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, her smile growing just by looking at him. His energy was contagious.

"Is... is there anything I can do to thank you?" She tried your shake herself back to reality though remained entranced by him.

"Nothing at all. I'm just glad I was here to help." He extended a hand, almost nervously, introducing himself. "Alexander Turner, pleasure to meet you."

"You too." Aria blushed, unable to break eye contact with the man, and was now incredibly aware of how dumbfounded she must look. "I'm Aria" She stuttered, the sound of his friend retuning sending her back to reality. "I apologise for staring, but I just can't seem to take my eyes off you, you have an enchanting aura about you. I'm sorry if I may seem a little strange."

"There's no need to apologise, I get it all the time." He laughed, though not arrogantly, it was sweet and innocent. "My mother's a Veela." He added, almost embarrassedly, upon noticing the slightly look of confusion appearing on Arias face.

The couple shared an awkward smile, both at a loss for words.

Alexander's friend passed by the pair silently, slapping him encouragingly on the shoulder before disappearing behind the bar, Rosalind following closely behind.

Aria noted the difference in both attitude and appearance in the two men, finally able to distinguish between the two. The friend was tall and broad shouldered, his hair messy though not long. He gave off a sort of American football, "bro", fratbroy vibe. In other words kind of arrogant and full of himself. Clearly he saw himself as the one in control. Alexander on the other hand was more slim, but not skinny. Tall but not lanky. Innocent but not naive. His clothes appeared similar to his friends but presented more neatly and well put together. She assumed he felt sorry for his friend, knowing his Veela parentage would gain him lots of female attention, and in return Alexander simply allowed himself to get pushed around to boost his friends ego.

With a roll of his eyes Alexander practically confirmed her theory and Aria couldn't stop herself from laughing once more.

Knowing that while Rosalind and 'Braydon'; as he turned out to be, would not be returning any time soon, Aria and Alexander chose to occupy one of the booths and get to know a little bit about each other, where Alex truly confirmed all of Aria's suspicions.

Upon Braydon's return, he flashed his rather large biceps, kissing each one in turn as he flexed them, before letting out a hearty growl, presumably this was a display of male dominance among his kind. His kind being; douchebags.

With another roll of her eyes Aria bid farewell to the men, thanking Alexander once more for his heroic rescue.

"How about a date?" Alex called nervously as Aria had just about reached the door.

"I'm sorry?" She replies, caught off guard.

"A date, here, with me. What do you say?" Aria shook her head unable to look away from that damn charming smile of his.

"I'll agree to a few drinks." She clarified. "Just send me an owl, you know where I'll be." And with that she disappeared once more down the path to Hogwarts, the grey sky above all the while threatening to rain down on her.

Taglist: @ayamenimthiriel @lizlil​

[koko-bopp]

Flirty Criminal — song mingi

criminal!song mingi X detective!male!reader

Part 3

word count – 4.5K

genre – Mature | Criminal/Cop!au

warning(s) – SMUT, a lil angsty, minor degrading, window sex, slight humiliation, passionate sex

Synopsis – “[Y/N] [L/N] is known famously around his police precinct as the detective that the infamous criminal Song Mingi has a crush on. The detective denies these claims, though Mingi gets into as much trouble as possible just to see him.”

"Fancy seeing you here, detective," Mingi chuckled, immediately noticing you from the colour of your hair.

He didn't expect you to be at his bar, let alone anywhere near his territory after your failed... Date? And it wasn't liked you lived anywhere near his bar, he was on the southside of the city, rich cops with rich lawyer husbands don't drop buy just for a drink.

You hadn't responded to him, and being ignored isn't exactly something Mingi appreciates, "Detective." He frowned, being close enough so you could see him from the corner of your eye. He stood beside you, putting his hands in his pockets of his expensive jeans before noticing something. "[Y/N]... Are you crying?"

Fuck if you knew, you'd been at Mingi's bar for almost an hour, ordered a whiskey but didn't even drink it because you knew what would happen if you did. You'd just been shedding tears, to the point where the bartender called Mingi to see if this was someone he knew.

He does.

"Hey, hey," Mingi repeated to catch your attention. You didn't respond, so he quickly looked over at the bartender, clicking his fingers to him then the door, giving an order for the man to leave.

He did, and now it was just the two of you in the he establishment, Mingi now sitting down at the stool next to yours, "Hey, what happened?"

And you just... You just kissed him.

It wasn't even a kiss, you moulded your lips on his like they were made for each other, pulling him by the necklace that sat neatly around his neck so you could bring him much closer. You parted your lips slightly just so you could get every part of Mingi that you wanted.

He stood up form his seat, turning you around so your back was now against the bench while you were still sitting down, Mingi in between your legs as he gently cupped your face with his hands. He didn't stop the kiss once, both your eyes closed as the moment was just something for the two of you to enjoy. Thousands of fireworks that you were once convinced were dormant now lit aflame.

God, Mingi wanted this for so long. He had a crush on you ever since you tried to arrest him for the first time; you were so dedicated and did your best to sympathize, only for you to threaten him when you couldn't deal with his flirty antics.

"[Y/N]–" He tried to interrupt, but you didn't stop immediately, so he pulled away, holding your cheeks, "–[Y/N], what happened?"

You sniffled, taking in a deep breath as more tears threatened to spill, "He... I–" It was fustrating you, bearly able to form words without crying, "I found him with my partner... In our bed. I was working the n-night shift and–"

Mingi lifted your chin up so you could look at him directly, soft eyes locked with your glossy ones, "Shhh, it's okay, I'll kill the bastard–"

You shook your head, "I never loved him, it won't do anything if you did... I just never though m-my partner would betray me like that..." You gripped onto Mingi's dress shirt, barely able to continue your sentences.

He'll kill the other bastard then.

Mingi took a deep breath, "It's okay. I've got you." He softly traced your skin with his thumb, praying that it would bring some kind of comfort. Watching the detective who was always so strong break down in front of him was worse than anything he'd been accused of. "Why you so far out here then? Don't you have friends you can lean onto back at the north?"

You shook your head, "I wanted to see you. I... I always wanted you, it's just, you know my job I'm supposed to hate you and it's midnight, I didn't want to see anyone else."

Mingi smiled. If that confession didn't provide his stomach with half a million butterflies, then it must be some other medical issue. He bought his thumb down to the bottom of your lip, dragging it down as he stared at his actions, "Do you want me as much as I want you, Detective?"

You nodded, not thinking twice. It was enough for Mingi to place his hand on your thigh and give it a firm squeeze. He watched you gasp underneath his touch, your muscle tensing in lust. "Yes, god, yes."

Mingi traced lines over the material of your jeans, his fingers moving to your inner thigh, "Detective, you're all mine tonight, understood?" The way you melted at his words were too much for him, he was so tempted just to ruin whatever nobility that badge you carried yourself with provided, you were falling in the grasp of Song Mingi, that should be punishment enough. He traced a line down from the centre of your v-line and over your crotch, watching you squirm at his touch was enough for his pants to tighten around him. "It's only my name you think of tonight. Understood?"

"Yes, sir~"

Fuck, that was it. He lifted you off the stool, his hands gripping your ass as you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a soft moan. His mouth latching onto yours as you two aggressively joined lips. Tongue on tongue, lips on lips, breathing inconsistent and your hands held the sides of Mingi's jaw while he carried you to the upstairs of his bar.

"Where... Where are we going?" You asked, eyes half lidded before kissing him back hard.

"Trust me." He pushed you against one of the doors, your bodies flush together with your legs wrapped around his hips as he grinded into you.

"Mingi," You moaned, throwing your head back against the door as you moaned his name. Your hips involuntarily bucked into him. He didn't waste any time to move down to kiss your neck, scraping teeth and a warm tongue across his fresh canvas, placing rough kisses across it as well. Hearing you moan and sigh and try to hold back your desperation was all he wanted. "Mingi... Please..."

"You should know best that anything you tell me will be used against you, Detective," he snickered lowly, feeling you arch your back when he bit down on the spot he was looking for, "I won't forget you begging and moaning my name like a pretty whore."

It earned a small smile on your face. Degrading, but he was also behaving just as loving as he was at the restaurant.

He opened the door, holding onto you tight so you didn't fall, but immediately dropped you on the huge bed by the window.

The light coming from outside reflecting onto you made you look so irresistible to the point he felt himself get hard. Your shirt was now wrinkled and messy and raised slightly to expose your torso, your neck had evident bite marks. You looked like a meal. And Mingi was a victim of famine.

You couldn't help but grow a little prideful at the way he was staring at you, hence why you raised your hands up to drag the shirt higher, stopping at the top buttons as you began to undo them, watching Mingi crawl over on the bed. "I'm all yours, " You whimpered.

Mingi gripped your wrist firmly at the fifth button, though, making you confused in the slightest. He spoke softly, like how a police officer would confront a victim; "I don't know how much I'll be able to back when you look like this," he said, licking his lips. He dragged his gaze all the way to your bulge before dragging it back up to your eyes, "But I want you to scream 'gun' if you ever need me to stop. Do you understand?"

He was definitely more in love with you than you assumed. He was being so considerate and genuinely had your safety as his top priority.

You nodded immediately, pulling him down and bucking your hips up, "I want you, Mingi. Please, you have me~"

Mingi chuckled, bringing his hand up to grip your jaw, "Such an impatient baby. Imagine someone finding out how submissive the honourable Detective is for the man he's trying to put away." He used his other hand to unbutton the remainder of your shirt, even popping the one on your jeans. He watched you close your thighs in embarrassment. Because he was right; you withered under his every touch, not something you're entirely used to. Mingi teasingly palmed your crotch, watching you whimper as he did, "Already hard now, Detective?"

He made you work for it, from taking his cock in your mouth to leaving red and purple hues along your neck, chest and thighs. The scratches you left on his back are bright red and will be a reminder of everything when they sting in the shower. The way he held you, the way he spoke and was both with selflessness and authority. His main emphasis was to make sure you were only focusing on him, not wanting you to have to worry about everything that occurred in the last eight hours.

But fuck, the way you would shiver and jerk every time he touched a sensitive spot, now knowing that your thighs will give in if he kisses them. The way you moan his name like a prayer, the way you practically scream it when you're so close to cumming. You would chuckle when he kisses your nose and upper lip, groan and grunt when he was deep inside you. Fuck, all this was worth the wait. He did his waiting, and now you wanted him too.

Though right now, he had you against the window, your chest against the cold glass as your hot breath was fogging a small part of it. Mingi was flush against your back, thrusting in and out at a simple pace; hearing you beg was beyond attractive, pleading with him to move faster as your hands were firm on the glass and your cock dripping with pre-cum. Hickeys littered literally everywhere on your body, Ming creating more with the way he was trailing kisses down your neck.

"Please, please, Mingi–!" You groaned as he bit down on your shoulder, accidentally jerking forward when he thrust forward particularity hard so his cock hit your prostate. "Please, I'm so close–"

"You already came twice, Detective," He snickered, "Such a needy slut."

He picked up his pace with his thrusts, gripping one of your hips and locking his fingers with yours on the glass with his other hand. He kissed the back of your neck when you couldn't stop your head from dropping from the sudden fast thrusts, "Ah–! Fuck, I'm gonna–" You moaned loudly, "Mingi-! I'm gonna cum–!"

Mingi didn't have time to respond, you released on the window and grinded back against him so he could as well. Your throat was dry from all the screaming and moaning, you could only whimper and whine as all the white leaked from your tip. Mingi slowed down his thrusts, knowing you're way too sensitive to overstimulate any further, "So impatient~"

He came not long after, groaning your name as he did before pulling out when he was done, removing the condom and disregarding it in the trash can. He smiled at you softly as you were lying on your back now on the bed, grinning back at him. "That... That was amazing."

You never actually thought you'd have sex with Song Mingi, let alone for three rounds in the one night.

He made sure you were comfortable and kept his word when he was making sure it was only him you were thinking about.

Mingi bent down to kiss your lips, softly, bringing the thin blanket over you just because he thought it was a good idea. You kissed him back, bringing your hand up to touch his cheek before pulling away gently.

He caressed the hand that was on his cheek, thinking about how thrilled he was that you're actually with him right now, "Do you... Do you want to spend the night? With me?"

You nodded, grinning brightly, "As long as we cuddle."

"What's going to happen in the morning? Will you continue your aim to throw me into jail, Detective?" Mingi asked, looking a little saddened.

"After all this?" You giggled, leaning up slightly to peck his lips. You frowned a little though, your smile disappearing, "You know... If they even think we're seeing each other, I can get into a lot of trouble."

Mingi continued to caress your hand, taking a moment to think, "I'll figure something out. Or maybe ill just get into more trouble so I can see you."

You laughed, shaking your head. He was something else. You pulled him down so you had your head buried in his neck, gently kissing the skin as you placed an arm over his torso. "Just.. Hold me for a bit. I just want you right now."

He did so with content. Holding you close, happy knowing that the feeling was mutual.

"Detective." The Chief had called you into the office. He was expecting something, from the way he crossed his arms and the fact that there was a clear case file sitting on his desk about the man you slept. "Anything you want to tell me?"

Wayne Haulting was a friend of yours, but when he's serious. He's serious. You nodded at him though, "He believes it. My husband is in Chicago well away from here, he doesn't exactly know about the plan, but Song Mingi believed it all."

"You slept with him?"

"Best sex of my life." You chuckled, crossing your arms, "However, I'm Sargent [Y/N], throwing criminals into jail is my job. Mingi thinks I'm in love with him, so it shouldn't be long before he trusts me enough to reveal a few things."

Haulting nodded in approval. "I guess I should congratulate you then. Is it safe to say you have Mingi wrapped around your finger?"

You nodded. You may like him, but the city needs Song Mingi in jail, and that's what you were going to do.

[blackdogdesignuk]

The Diner Dilemma

Written by Blackdogdesignuk

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/30510615

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Warnings: explicit, smutt, porn without plot, maybe a slight plot. Sub/Dom play, light bdsm, forced orgasms, hand free, sex toys, humiliation, exhibitionism, hint at kink shaming, restraints, Mr. not-much-dialogue Whiskey, no consent, clit slapping, girl on girl. girl on boy.

Summary:

You've never felt such conflicting feelings before, as Poppy meanly flicked your pert nipples you felt the embarrassment creep over your face but deep down a small stab of shameless pleasure inside was eating away at you. Neither of you were trained for this sort of torture.

Notes:

Self insert warnings: It's a female self insert, I think, she has a vagina anyway and I'm using she/her pronouns ...also she's blushing petal pink which suggests her skin tone as Caucasian, she's based on me, a pale ass white girl. Also she has a name, or a nickname anyhow. I've no idea what I'm doing.

2.4k words I believe of the most self indulgent thing I've ever written. To be honest it's the only thing I'd class as a fanfiction I've written. I write short poems not porn but this whole scene came to me whilst participating in the (solo) business of pleasure. That's when I thought, Jesus there is something wrong with me... Maybe other people will like this too? 😳😂

Also do I know how to use page breaks? .. 😒 no.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

"Well if this isn't the most interesting situation we've found ourselves In!"

Poppy exclaimed playfully. The setting sun was blinding you slightly through the big diner windows, bathing the whole bar area in a warm orange glow. Poppy Adams was pacing the retro diner floor in front of the table you were currently tied to. Shivering with adrenaline and maybe cold because you had been embarrassingly stripped down to your knickers and the very thin, very see through strappy top you wore under your work clothes. The ropes rubbing against your wrists behind your back were burning into you as you slienty struggled against your restraints.

"Now see here Miss" exclaimed Agent Whiskey "Your boarish robot hounds almost ripped my good hand clean off!"

"Quiet down please Jack" Miss Adams' sickly sweet baby voice disgusted you "I set a very clever honeytrap for one of those sneaky undercover agents who were following me and well.. here you are! Agent... Babydoll is it?" She nodded at you "yes you look like a Babydoll... Poor sweet girl fell for it hook, line and sinker... I didn't expect you to be with her" Poppy kicked Whiskey's boots "Intel suggested you were undercover in London with Kingsman. How wrong we were and I've managed catch not one but TWO Statesman agents in my sticky web! What a bounty eh?" Poppy Adams smiled whilst seating herself at the bar, swinging her legs playfully.

You glanced over at your partner hoping he had been formulating a plan to get you both out of this mess, however he looked just as confused as you were with his hands tied to the table legs behind his head and they had even secured him around his broad middle. Like a trussed up pig ready for slaughter, least he’d kept his jeans on you though jealously.

Poppy cleared her throat "Now we are going to play a little game my dears, we've all the time in the world whilst I wait from your bosses about my demands and I'm bored and feeling a little evil this morning"

Your heartbeat kicked up a notch as she clicks her fingers and one of her minions barged through the kitchen double doors, dragging some sort of dentist/barbers chair. He heaved it loudly across the floor until it was positioned in front of you.

As Poppy opened a box she'd pulled out from behind the bar, her henchman was busying himself with untying you from the table and man handling you into this very hard and very uncomfortable chair. It was as dated as the rest of this joint you thought, like something you'd find in a 1920's barbers, however this one had been modified clearly as it had big buckle straps on the arms where your wrists would go, metal stirrups and more straps where your legs would be resting on the small platform.

You watch confused as he quickly made himself scarce and you see Poppy had now armed herself a black leather handled flogger, it had gunmetal grey chains hanging down delicately from where she'd wrapped it around her wrist.

Oh shit.

Poppy Adams pushed you back forcefully into the chair until every soft part of you was exposed. You wouldn't be that embarrassed, it was an empty room, however you were hyper aware of the fact Agent Whiskey was tied up and eye level with your crotch a literal stone's throw away from you.

Smiling as she stung your thigh with a sharp bite of her cat o' nine tails Poppy then almost lovingly parted your legs and placed your feet into into the stirrups of the medical contraption. Completely.. completely vulnerable you thought as she buckled your wrists tight and pulled a small lever on the chair which made the metal stirrups spread your legs wide to keep you in place and exposed fully.

Sheepishy you glanced up to make eye contact with Agent Whiskey, trying to give him an apologetic look but to your suprise you found he was blushing severely and his eyes were darting around, looking at everything but you. Even his ears were slowly turning pinker by the second and you swear he had a small bead of sweat making its way down his temple.

You've never felt such conflicting feelings before, as Poppy meanly flicked your pert nipples you felt the embarrassment creep over your face but deep down a small stab of shameless pleasure inside was eating away at you. Neither of you were trained for this sort of torture.

What a bitch you thought.

"No Agent Whiskey" Poppy snapped as she walked over to him "give your colleague your full attention, she obviously wants it, the least you can do is look whilst I torture her in front of you"

Poppy grabbed Jack's face with it hand and directed it at you. "I think you'll like the show I'm going to give you? You may try look away in some sort of twisted respect agent but the tight bluge in your jeans is a dead give away that your enjoying this as much as I am."

"This is not right Ma'am....I can't.. p-pleeeasagggh" stuttered Whiskey helplessly as Poppy Adam's jumped off his lap and slapped your partner across the face, cutting short his pleas. Turning quickly around she walked to grab a big pink dildo from the case on the bar, it was about 10 inches long and the tasteful thickness of it suprised you. You felt sure you had the same one in your bedside drawer at home..

Walking up behind you Poppy leant over your shoulder, making bedroom eyes at Jack whilst the she nibbled your ear and slowly dragged the sex toy down your body, teasing your skin.. slowly...slowly.. until she came to the outside of your lacy knickers. Pressing a button on the side, it started vibrating at the tip which caused you to jump unexpectedly as the vibrations tickled your clit through the fabric of your underwear. She worked at you for a good few minutes. Pulling hot pants from your lips and giving you cold sweats whilst you tried to stop your eyes rolling in to the back of your head.

"Oh Honeybee, I'm going to make you cum for me now, right here in front of your colleagues and there isn't a thing you can do about it. I'm in control.." she whispered into your ear whilst squeezing your nipple with her other free hand. "..and there is nothing you can do about it, your body will betray you and I will get what I want" a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through your crotch as she caught your clit in just the perfect spot. You gasped surprising even your self at how thicky sexual it sounded.

Deciding the fabric was hindering her efforts, Poppy swiftly tugged them off and dragged them down your legs, catching them slightly on the metal parts of the chair. Abandoning you a moment she spat on her hand and slapped your clit which was now becoming more swollen by the minute, you mewled at the shock of the sting. Your nipples hard as bullets now as she slid the whole length slowly in to your aching pussy. The sound of it sliding in to your wet cunt was so obscene and Jack was just staring now, mouth slighty parted, the buttons on his jeans threatening to pop at any moment. This did nothing but spur you on despite the degrading act being forced upon you, deep down being the submissive was always a fantasy of yours. Did Poppy know this? Or did she not expect you to like this sort of kink torture? Maybe you were more fucked up than you originally thought.

Your face prickled with shame as a pink glow crept over your cheeks. Concious of your nose and chin as it always threatened to betray you when you were very aroused turning a rosy pink petal colour. Thinking back to the many nights you'd spent in hotel rooms during undercover missions with your partner. Thinking about when you came hard but silently, stifling a fist into your mouth, knowing Agent Whiskey was in the next room and secret wishing it was him who'd given you such a long, wet, sticky orgasm. Your face sold you out though, it was a dead give away when you answered the door to his frantic knocks and requests to get dressed, informing you about the change of plans from HQ. You suspected he did know...he's not dumb. Jack's eyes had shot from your crumpled up bed sheets back to your flushed cheeks and chin, lingering on your face a little longer than you'd expect..

That same flushed look you had then was painted over your face now and he knew it too as he seemingly couldn't now break eye contact with you.

As Poppy fucked you messily with the dildo, your body abandoned you getting more juicy and slippery by the minute. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife, and was only penetrated by the obscene sound of your gushing pussy and your uneven pants, trying to catch your breath and fight against the unwanted pleasure rocking thorough your body. Miss Adam's slowly removed the plastic member that she was fucking your cunt with and dipped two fingers deep into you, coating them in your slick.

Thankful for the breather you closed your eyes for a moment but when you opened them you watched horrified as she'd wandered over to Whiskey and smeared your creamy mess all over Jack's face, forcefully slipping a finger into his mouth so he could taste that sweet nectar. You bit your lip as Jack was clearly struggling against wanting to take control of the situation and enjoying this too much.

Did he like it? What is she doing now? She's touching his jeans.. oh Jesus, please... Don't...

Jealousy panged deep in your stomach. Poppy was now sliding his zipper down but she didn't really need to help him much more as the button popped it's self open. Quickly realising why as it was absolutely magnificent. Looking into his big brown eyes you couldn't tell if he was enjoying your pain or sympathising with it, but his now thick, beautiful, coffee coloured cock was standing to attention and jerking with each grunt he made in an attempt to clean his new creamy moustache off with his tounge.

Poppy just laughed staring at the sorry sight she'd created. "I've heard of men cumming hands free before but I've never witnessed it, let's see Babydoll do you think we could make it happen for him? It would be humiliating right? ESPECIALLY as I’d forgot to mention the live feed you have in that fancy cowboy hat you're wearing Whiskey, it's playing all this fun back to your HQ right?"

Fuck!

You gasped, hoping Ginger had enough respect for you both to turn off the audio and video feed but leaving the GPS tracking active so we could at least be rescued.

"Yes, yes, I know they can track you, in all honesty I wasn't expecting any ransom I just wanted to fuck with you both for shits and giggles to be honest" Poppy smirked.

You blinked, looking back at Jack for some sort of reaction to this horrifying news but he just had his eyes closed and was thrusting his hips into nothingness, beads of sticky precum were dripping from the tip of his dick on to his jeans. That big beautiful dick swaying and twitching in the air, it was mesmerising. Clearly Poppy was paying attention too as she drapped the chains of the whip over his throbbing cock causing Whiskey to cry out and jump in anticipation.

"You dirty boy Jack Daniels" she scoffed and pulled her flail back so fast it caught the tip of his penis sharply making him whimper in pain.

Paying her attention back to you, she took the vibrating member in her perfectly manicured hands and held it on your clit. It was too painfully long, stoking your fire relentlessly, not letting you have even a second to compose your self as you struggled to fight down the familiar sensation quite literally buzzing in your nerve endings.

For fuck sake, I don't want this! I can't give her the satisfaction of the screaming orgasm she's forcing out of me.

You writhed, swinging between pleasure and pain, it was too intense. Too sensitive. Your thighs were shaking with anticipation as you edged closer and closer to your climax. Agent Whiskey stared intensely at your body, his chest rising fast now, he looked like a man possessed. He was close, you could tell. His face contorted in to an almost painful state of bliss.

Glassy eyed, his rhythm faultered and his hips tensed as thick ropes of cum shot out of his spent cock and splattered on to his heaving stomach. Once, twice, three times he twitched releasing more and more hot creamy fluid. Jack gasped for air as his orgasm dribbled down slowly over his beautiful tanned skin making quite a mess of his public hair. His face shined with sweat whilst he stared at you, beautiful brown eyes apologising, shame painted across his expression.

"Oh d-darlin.." he managed to stutter.

Well, that was the final nail in your coffin. Tipping you over the edge, you let out the filthiest moan you had ever given anyone, inspired out of darkest depths of your depraved mind. Your orgasm gushed out of your swollen slippery pussy and slid down the shaft of the dildo she was using to finish you off. It pooled satisfyingly in a creamy mess just above your asshole, threatening to spoilt the leather chair you were strapped to.

''There you go Babydoll, we got there in the end didn't we... You both must have been sooo tightly wound. What... Was that a record 4 minutes until Whisky shot his load hmm?" She sneered with that stupid baby voice and then leaned in close to your face "..and you clearly have had a lot of practice havn't you? Look at that pretty pussy all messed up. I might even get him to crawl over here and clean you up huh? But that would be just what you want I now suspect..."

BOOM..

Poppy's sentence was interrupted by a huge explosion from the back of the Diner, as a dozen men ran in to the room.

You closed your eyes in relief. God damn it, Ginger. Took your time honey...

Notes:

I don't think forced orgasm and light bondage will have a huge audience but I would never forgive myself if I didn't make this into at least a paragraph or more.

I have also created a piece of art to go along side this story see my socials here to find it -https://linktr.ee/blackdogdesignuk also a video showing the 'making of' the sketch my tiktok - search Bettyblushes

Please excuse any grammatical errors mistakes, I truly tried to catch them all but it's been a hot decade since I studied at school. 😬

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

(Vol. XVIII)

It was a love story from the very beginning.

Offended (part II)

(6x03/6x06/6x07)

Hello my friends! This is another volume from my Destiel Chronicles. The second part of "Offended".

I want to give special thanks to my dearest friend @agusvedder , this time she couldn't make the gifs, but she helped me with the discussion! Thank you girl!

Ok, now... Let's go straight to the point.

Castiel in angel soldier mode

Coming back to episode 6x03, Dean is witness of Castiel's soldier mode behavior.

The angel moves fast appearing and disappearing (we need to recall this chapter was written by Edlund, and he loves to write angels as dynamic forces, and make Dean yelling FREAKING ANGELS! Everytime he is in the middle of this) So Cas was moving around, fighting with some angels, and being very risky with a kid, touching his soul for information. That was an alert alarm for Dean.

Sam is soulless, so, he can't understand the concern about hurting a kid, and he is more on line with Castiel's soldier mode behavior. In the middle is Dean that can't believe CAS is doing such a thing to a boy.

Cas is so accelerated that Dean needs to stop him somehow. The angel gave just a little of information to their friends.

CASTIEL: It is simple: Raphael and his followers, they want him to rule Heaven. I -- and many others -- the last thing we want is to let him take over. It would be catastrophic.

SAM: You're talking civil war.

CASTIEL: Technically, yes. Which is why we have to find Balthazar and his weapons before Raphael does. Whoever has the weapons wins the war.

So he didn't explain the details, but it was enough there...

Pointing here the fact that Dean is seeing Cas in his soldier mode, is a behavior he will have the whole season, and he will repeat I'M AT WAR a lot of times, as an excuse.

And I'm not forgetting this manner...

CASTIEL: If the angel we seek truly bought this boy's soul, when a claim is laid on a living soul, it leaves a mark, a brand.

Now... This topic had been analyzed a lot here, it would explain the handprint in Dean's shoulder and it also would explain why Sam was pulled out from Hell without a soul by Cas... He couldn't claim his soul (bc it was very difficult to do it by himself). Just a Destiel observation.

Let's jump now to the next episode.

Dean is mad at Castiel bc he doesn't pay attention to their problems

In episode 6x06 "You Can't Handle The Truth", we had just one scene with Castiel but with a huge intensity.

First of all... The episode begins with Bobby and Dean and this question...

BOBBY: Did you call Cas?

DEAN: 'Course I called Cas. He's not answering. Screw him. I can't wait anymore.

Dean is worried about Sam's behavior. He doesn't know what is going on with his brother and he just saw him how he waits for him to be turned into a vampire by a monster. So he had been calling Castiel. And Cas doesn't answer.

This is new for him, bc till now, Cas was there for them. And he was helping them. But since he returned to Heaven, things changed. And Dean felt he was let behind. And he can't understand why Castiel isn't there for him. Or why he isn't worried about Sam. He's so mad at Castiel bc of that. Bc he isn't there for him. Remember season 4? When they first met as I wrote in one of the first chronicles... Dean was pushing Castiel the whole time asking him for help, and he got mad when CAS didn't help him. And they just met! So this time is worst, bc they already are best friends, and Cas isn't there! So yes, Dean is mad at him.

And when Castiel finally appears... It shows...

DEAN (drains a glass of whiskey.) Castiel? Hello? Possible loose nuke down here, angelic weapon. Kinda your department. You hear that, Cas?

The way Dean is calling Cas is like if he wouldn't expect for the angel to show... But Castiel appeared... Bc Dean named an angelic weapon. Useful to the war.

CASTIEL appears. Hello, Dean.

DEAN: Are you kidding me? I have been on red alert about Sam, and you come for some stupid horn?!

CASTIEL: You asked me to be here, and I came.

DEAN: I -- I've been asking you to be here for days, you dick!

Look how mad is Dean. And Castiel's answer doesn't helps. The hunter feels like Cas is avoiding him about Sam's soul but, by the other hand, he mentions an angelic weapon and Cas is there. And Dean is calling Cas dick! He is very, very angry with him.

Now... It comes the excuse...

CASTIEL, abashed. I didn't come about Sam because I have nothing to offer about Sam.

DEAN: Well, that's great, because for all we know, he's just gift wrap for Lucifer.

Ok, we have one important matter here... Cas had pulled Sam out of hell... But the boys don't know that, so... Cas is avoiding this bc he is lying to them. (Yeah.. beautiful Gamble's plot... Transforming an ALWAYS HONEST CHARACTER into a LIAR ONE).

So... Now Cas is seeing how distressful Dean is about his brother's behavior and about him not paying attention to his prayers... And he decides do something to calm him down...

He refills Dean's glass with whiskey while he explains Dean's biggest fears about his brother being Lucifer is imposible.

And why am I so sure about this gesture was made with that intention? Because we will have the parallel in episode 6x09 "Clap your hands if you believe" (Edlund's) in which after being kidnapped, Dean returns to find his brother with a woman in the bed. So he was so mad at him, that Sam decides to give him a glass of whiskey.

The difference here is the huge sexual tension between Dean and Cas.

Dean misses HIS CAS

When Dean was more calm, he tries to talk with CAS...

DEAN: What happened to you, Cas? You used to be human, or at least like one.

CASTIEL: I'm at war. Certain... regrettable things are now required of me.

Is obvious Dean misses HIS CAS. The one that was there just for him.

And the excuse "I'm at war" is there again. And then... Castiel disappears again!

This made Dean get mad again...

But Cas appears again. And he sees Dean is mad at him. So he tries another strategy.

He promise he will help him.

This was a lovers fight, my friend, right in front of our eyes... Because you'll see... Dean is the husband that reclaims more attention from his husband and Cas is trying to please him with flowers and chocolates...

"Sorry babe, I know I wasn't at home these days, the work is demanding me more hours but I will take you for dinner next Sunday! It's a Promise!"

Is so hilarious but so accurate...

But it seems that Cas didn't take Dean for dinner and this is what we had in episode 6x07...

Dean bossy with Cas

In episode 6x07 "Family Matters" Cas is trying to make a diagnosis about Sam, and he discovers he's soulless...

But we will talk about the Destiel fight here...

Dean is being so bossy with Cas... Like if he was his servant or something. And Cas is being submissive, of course... because he didn't take Dean out for dinner... And Dean is mad again.

Not just this but... When they went to see Samuel, their grandfather, this scene...

SAMUEL: This Castiel? You're scrawnier than I pictured.

CASTIEL: This is a vessel. My true form is approximately the size of your Chrysler building.

DEAN: All right, all right, quit bragging. So, you were dead, and...

Dean is cutting Castiel out, and is hilarious... But after this... Castiel has to come back to Heaven, because "he's at war", and Dean gave him a last order... In a bad way...

Cas is being sarcastic here... And we have another parallel with Bobby in episode 6x04. Bobby scolded the boys because they put their problems first. And is exactly what Cas is saying here.

So... Another lovers fight. And Dean being a jiltter offended husband.

And I'm keeping the "taking off my belt while liking my lips and watching you SUGGESTIVELY" scene for another chronicle...

To conclude

Dean was mad at Cas because he was putting the war over his problems.

He misses HIS CAS, the one that was always there for him. And he is disappointed about the way Cas is behaving.

Castiel tries hard to be in two sides at the same time and to please Dean helping him when he can, but he's also aware about Dean's selfishness.

I hope you like this meta! C-u in the next one!

If you want to be tagged just let me know.

If you want to read the previous Chronicles, here's the links...

Vol. XV/Vol. XVI/Vol. XVII

Buenos Aires July 3rd 2019 10:31 PM

Tagging @metafest @magnificent-winged-beast

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