#i just feel deadly butterflies

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Makes me want to suck on his adam's apple

[seattlesellie]

e. williams — moonflower.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

synopsis: it’s ellie’s birthday, and you have three gifts for her. a moonflower bouquet, the latest savage starlight, and a pin from joel. maybe, you even have a fourth one.

warnings: smut (mdni), established relationship, dom!ellie, sub!reader, inexperienced reader, loss of virginity (r!), first time everything, loads of praise, loads of romance, cute little slaps, and as weird as it is to include this in these warnings; mentions of joel and ellie’s complicated relationship.

an: finally finished it. this is very very fluffy, as smutty as it may be. if you love flowers this one’s for you <3 i truly could have made this longer but i was super self conscious so i might post a little blurb instead!! constructive criticism and all comments n discussions are very much appreciated. thank you for being patient and sweet i love u 💗

enveloped up in a baby blue ribbon, it sits pretty on top of your duvet. the latest edition of “savage starlight” — ellie’s favorite comics series, and a bouquet of flowers. when you picked them out just for her— forehead glistening under the radiant june sun, you noticed a singular flower that set itself apart from the others. blinding white, trumpet shaped— it’s lemon fragrance wafted through the thick air. it's petals were curled up, but you decided to keep it nevertheless. you’ve never seen one quite like it. when you brought it to your house, along with the fresh daisies and the garden roses, you noticed something bizarre, and oh so beautiful.

the odd flower bloomed underneath the moonlight that snuck itself inside the big window of your room. as the white petals unfurled, there you stood— awestruck.

⋆˙⟡♡

you decided to bring it over to louisa, the frail old lady who ran the jackson community garden.

“s’quite beautiful, isn’t it?” you told proudly, taking a whiff of the flowers creamy white petals. louisa ran her fingertips delicately over the flowers green stem, and just like you— louisa was awestruck.

“oh dear, it certainly is. how did you… manage to find it?” louisa probed, and your heart skipped a beat. your relationship with ellie was new, and fresh as a daisy. your face flushed, but you told louisa— your precious confidant, nevertheless. “ellie’s birthday’s coming up soon… so i, was picking up some flowers for her. s’not much, i know… but,” you scratched your arm, feeling extra timid. “i think ellie will like them. i… hope”

louisa smiled soft heartedly, the aged skin around the sides of her eyes folding itself and forming three little lines. somehow, it felt like the old lady knew more about you two than you did. “she’d be a fool not to”, she assured, and pressed tightly on your shoulder.

“i would have asked you if you were in love… but, no need to.”

“how come?”

“it simply shows, pumpkin’”

louisa sighed deeply, and began guiding you towards the humble old basement, where she stored all of her gardening books.

ipomoea alba, the tropical white morning-glory, jimsonweed, or for those of us who are a tad scatterbrained— moonflower. the moonflower, is the most romantic flower of all. it is dreamy, and mysterious, and it yearns for the warm embrace of the sun, but it also requires a cold caress of shade. it slumbers amidst the daylight, closing and hiding its delicate petals up, but during the night— it blooms, and it’s magnificent. as wispy and precious as the moonflower may be, the bloom may also be deadly.

it reminded you of her.

⋆˙⟡♡

ellie and you had numerous conversations about things that were… hypothetical. if you were a planet, which planet would you be?, if you were an animal, which one suits you best, would you say?, make it more specific, even— if you were a bug, what bug would you be? ellie told you were a butterfly, and that she would be a spider.

“don’t… spiders eat butterflies?” you probed, your head resting on top of her shoulder. it was a quiet, chilly night in jackson, and for some reason, being around ellie made you feel scorching. ellie huffed and chuckled, “yeah, think they do”

“well… that sucks” you noted, as a loose strand of ellie’s auburn hair tickled your cheek. ellie thought for a while, and then chuckled again. she did it quite a lot, chuckle to herself without saying a word. “i wouldn’t… eat you though. i’d… build a little web around you. protect you from the other spiders. you could be my personal butterfly… pet, thing”

you hummed, being caged in ellie’s spider web didn’t actually seem all that bad. in fact, it had a certain charm to it. but, wait… “wouldn’t being around me make you hungry?”

ellie’s breath caged in her throat.

it already does.

“guess i’d have to fight against my urges” she rasped, and you nodded.

if you were a butterfly, ellie would be the brave spider who protects you.

if you were a lily; who blooms during the daylight, the resurrection of spring, the goddess oestre, enlightened and wise, ellie was your missing piece. the moon to your sun, and the darkness to your light. the universe thrives because of it’s harmonious balance, and so do you.

⋆˙⟡♡

sugar, flour, cocoa powder, salt, two fresh eggs, a cup of milk, and one cane of sweet vanilla. the chocolate cake was damn near perfect. writing her name on the cake with a thick layer of vanilla icing was extremely precious and necessary to you. woefully, the can was nearing on empty, so— the cake read; “happy birth, el”

you impishly giggled to yourself. sounds like ellie’s going to give birth. with one more dip of your finger inside the rich ganache, you came to a firm and final conclusion— it was heavenly, the perfect balance of sweet and chochlaty bitterness. the secret ingredient that must have made it as amazing as it was, was the espresso powder you traded for a bargain. or maybe, maybe it was love.

“ugh, quit it. cheesy” you silently mumbled to yourself.

⋆˙⟡♡

the weather was hot, and the air felt thick. you always deemed it funny, ellie being a june baby and hating the heat. the town bustled with noise of chatter on a busy monday mornin’, and maria stood with her arms crossed against her chest in the corner. she seemed to be in the midst of scolding a guilty looking tommy, and next to them, were a handful of children giggling in the background.

balancing the chocolate cake, alongside with the gifts sitting inside the brown paper bag (with the pretty blue ribbon you clasped onto it), and the flower bouquet was hard. waddling around the town, on your way to ellie’s house, no wonder you nearly dropped it all on the floor when you bumped into a large man, that hit your front like a stone.

“oh— uh, easy there, kiddo”

you could recognize that rasp and that texas twang everywhere, even when your eyes were squinted, avoiding the rays of the sun.

joel.

you hastily managed to balance it all together again, apologizing profusely to the middle aged man— whomst you almost smashed the entire cake onto. he wore a black button up, it seemed… festive. huh. “headin’ to see ellie, i assume?” joel rasped.

you nodded and smiled politely. you’ve never been completely alone with joel, and most importantly, you’ve never talked to him about ellie. things between them were… complicated. you didn’t know why, and sometimes— you were too afraid to even ask. it all seemed too sensitive. ellie would nearly wince when his name was mentioned, and her eyes would fill with something that seemed like sorrow, or regret, or anger. usually, all of those emotions— all at once.

“that her gift?” he pointed towards the brown paper bag.

“mhm! savage starlight. s’the latest edition… i think”

joel smiled softly, and hummed in response. his eyes too, were filled with something that seemed to hold a droplet of sorrow and regret, but no anger though. different than ellie’s.

“she’s still into it, huh?”

“she’s obsessed” you giggled. truthfully, she had a good reason to be. savage stralight was fucking awesome, you grew to realize. it was even more awesome when she read it to you in the dark, cuddled up in her squeaky bed, holding a flashlight to illuminate the written words. when you dozed off, she’d continue reading out loud, maybe to herself, or maybe for your subconscious to absorb.

“i have… this, thing, uh—“ he shifted awkwardly, and began searching for something in his pockets. joel took it out, and showed it to you while holding it in his palm. the thing he mentioned, was a golden, diamond studded pin of the fallen apollo 1. it was beautiful, highly detailed, it’s unmistakable shine reflecting the rays of the sun.

“found it last week while i was patrollin’”

“it’s… woah” you marveled, running a delicate finger over the polished metal.

“is she… still into the space thing?” the stony man asked with a slightly shaky voice. something in you had to physically fight the urge to pull him into a warm hug.

“yeah… we… well, we went to look at the stars the other day”

joel placed the pin in your hand, and wrapped your fingers around it. “could you give it to her? don’ gotta say it’s from me. tell her you found it”

you nearly choked up.

“joel… you should come with me”

joel sighed, and smiled softly again. joel wasn’t into smiling, but you made ellie smile, and that made joel smile.

“maybe next birthday, kid”

joel, just like louisa, knew ellie loved you before she did. and joel, saw his girl turn from a sulky, sullen teenager, to someone who looked like she had something, someone, to live for.

⋆˙⟡♡

12:00pm, and exactly three knocks on ellie’s wooden door. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t filled with anxiousness. being anxious around ellie wasn’t a strange new feeling. you had butterflies swarming around your belly when she looked at you, had butterflies when she talked to you, especially when she used that one tone, when she got out of the shower with only a small towel wrapped around her glistening body, you had butterflies, or better yet— a painfully lage bee colony growing in your tummy. when she kissed you softly, the bees calmed down and were a little more subtle, you could imagine them having black oogly heart eyes— but when she kissed you roughly, forcefully against the wall (or against the concrete floor that one time), the bees buzzed uncontrollably, and somehow flew down to a lower part of your body. when she grabbed your waist and gave it a squeeze, as she ravished your mouth with her wet tongue, they went even lower and…

well, anyways— ellie made you nervous. handing her her gifts made you nervous and having her first birthday with you made you even more nervous. you were a fuzzy ball of nervousness and anticipation, and now ellie opened the door and you nearly dropped the cake on the ground.

again.

usually, ellie would greet you with a shy “hey”. exactly a week ago, she added a “babe” to it. (the belly bee colony buzzed and they were tremendously loud, you thought ellie could possibly hear them — so you had to hold on to your tummy) today, ellie greeted you with blown out eyes and a gasp. “oh…”

“happy birthday” you mumbled adorably as if it was a hushed little secret, too shy to look her in the eyes. ellie was too shy too, a coy smile painted on her lips, rosy cheeked, with her hands clamped in two fists inside her oversized grey sweater (it’s june, she would not let that hoodie go). her pupils were glued to the “happy birth, el” written in white icing.

when she felt bold enough to look you in the eyes after not speaking (just staring) for one whole minute, as soon as she caught your gaze— your orbs began dancing around everything you saw, purely avoiding her look but with a huge grin plastered on your sweet, overly excited face.

would it be stupid for ellie to tell you that she loved you right now? because it was getting incredibly hard not to.

instead of a (perhaps) misplaced i love you, ellie decided a pure “thank you” would be have to suffice. she held the door for you, and you shyly tiptoed in. when you placed the chocolate cake on top of the oakwood counter along with the paper bag, you felt ellie’s hands shyly creeping up to your waist, pulling you in a tight hug. “you really… really, shouldn’t have” she whispered. her voice was still groggy, lazy, raspy.

it was her morning voice.

funnily enough, this was your first time hearing it. you never stayed over past 2am— the night was dangerous in your eyes. the night meant going to sleep, it meant staying in her bed, and it meant sleeping with her inside of it. the idea of a night with ellie felt as if the bee colony in your stomach was about to erupt and explode and splatter everywhere.

“you know i don’t… celebrate these things” ellie rasped again, breaking you off from your idle thoughts. you placed your hand over hers, and giggled. “s’not a thing, el… it’s your birthday”, ellie hummed in agreement, and you continued. “besides, it’s an—“ she planted a soft, chaste kiss on your neck. it made you shudder and it made your voice break. “an… excuse to eat some cake”

“just cake?”, ellie sighed, her raspy voice tickling your cheek.

“mhm” you nodded, distracted as ever.

“whats in that paper bag then, huh?”

the flower only blooms during the night, and savage starlight was meant to be consumed with the help of a trusty ol’ flashlight, under a thick blanket. the sun was still out, so the moonflower slept. for the comics, you wouldn’t need a flashlight, and that would simply demolish all of the fun.

the sun was still out so unfortunately, ellie will have to sit and patiently wait.

you pull yourself out of her hug, and waltz away slowly. “well… paper bags for later”, you tilt your head, drawing out your words just to tease her and then some. “so, not gonna show you what’s in there”

ellie raises a brow, a slight half smirk creeping up on her face. saying ellie was a patient girl, would be similar to saying a cat doesn't walk on four. technically, it could… be biped, but— well, wouldn’t quite work. so similarly, patient and ellie couldn’t quite work either.

“you gonna say no to me on my birthday?” she jests, pulling her arms and crossing them over her grey hoodie ridden chest.

“oohh…” you nod twice, “so now you do celebrate these things?” you teasingly raise an eyebrow, mirroring her stance. ellie chuckles and it comes out from deep within her throat. she squints her eyes, “you’re such a tease”

she must not know one of the bee’s just stung the insides of your own stomach and dropped dead. or maybe it’s not dead yet, because you can still feel it’s erratic buzzing and the venom makes you feel as if you’re about to pass out.

“mhm… it’s okay, i’ll wait, babe” — there’s that babe again, and the little bee is definitely dead by now.

“can we eat the cake outside? s’nice, warm… we could do a picnic!” you chirp, each and every single one of your words laced with that syrupy sweetness that makes ellie melt.

ellie smiles and feels a little blush creeping up on the apples of her cheeks. “could do… whatever you want, it’s your cake” she states, and you roll your eyes at her sweet humility. “s’not my cake, it’s yours” you mutter serenely as you point towards the vanilla icing. “see? has your name on it and all”

ellie tries plunging a slender finger into the icing, a foolish attempt to taste it, but you slap it away, a faux pout forming on her face.

“can’t taste my own cake?”

“nope. outside” you speak, popping the p’.

“yes ma’am”

⋆˙⟡♡

you take a sip of the freshly squeezed lemonade, a droplet of sour and sweetness flowing down from the corner of your lips. ellie— propped up by her elbow, brings her thumb and wipes it away. “so messy” she jives playfully, putting the pad of her thumb in her mouth and joyfully sucks on it. she’s squinting her eyes, attempting to avoid the rays of the sun, and you giggle impishly. “can i finally taste my cake now?” she drawls.

impatient as ever, ellie doesn’t even bother pulling out the white plastic fork. instead, she shoves her hand into the cake and takes a big bite. her eyes shut as she devours it, humming at the taste. with her mouth full, she utters “happy birth, el, huh?”.

you breathlessly laugh and nudge her arm away so she almost falls on the checkered, red and white picnic blanket. “sounds like… mmh, fuck, this is good”, she licks her finger — “sounds like m’giving birth”

“i didn’t have any more icing left!” you raise your tone brightly. ellie looks you in the eyes and swallows a sly smirk. this time, it’s your turn to wipe some residue off the corner of her lips. you taste it, and god damn was she right— it’s finger lickin’ good.

“i think that like, when we have babies, you’d be the one to give birth… not my thing. don’t want some… little intruder in my stomach”

before you have time to answer, ellie bites the insides of her cheeks and feels like slapping herself in the face or burying herself 7 feet in the ground. she’s talking about having babies with you?!

she’d smack herself so hard right now if she could.

for you, however, it’s becoming insufferably hard not to start jumping up and down and ripping your hair off in excitement.

“let me get this straight…” you begin, and ellie’s convinced you’re about to tell her that she’s too much and leave. “an intruder, as you put it, can live inside my belly for nine whole months, but not inside yours?”

ellie has to stop herself from breathing a sigh of relief. “it’ll suit you, is all i’m sayin’”

ellie manages to eat half of the creamy chocolate cake all by herself. she was never one to have a big appetite, did you sneak something inside of the batter, perhaps?

maybe it’s love, ellie wonders. she scolds herself internally, quit being such a sap. it’s definitely the espresso powder her taste buds managed to pick up on.

laying face to face with her eyes closed, you manage to count some of her splattered freckles. one… two… fifteen…, some of them grew darker, tanner. ellie’s chest rises up and down, and you almost think she must have dozed off like a little kid having a post—dessert nap, until;

“hey” she whispers.

“hi” you whisper back.

ellie opens her eyes, a soft, lazy half smile adorning her face. she bites her bottom lip, “can i open my present now?”

impatient.

you shake your head softly. “nuh uh, sun’s still out. sorry, els”

she wants to scoff but she loves it when you call her by that little nickname. “but…” you look down shyly, reaching out for your pocket. “i ran into… joel, on my way here” you speak quietly, afraid of saying the wrong thing. ellie blinks twice, and clears her throat. taking it out of your pocket, you place the little precious pin in between ellie and you. ellie only looks at it, doesn’t touch. you can’t quite describe the expression on her face. surprised? dreadful?… doubtful, maybe, and a tad curious perhaps. “he wanted me to give you this… s’the fallen apollo eleven, i think”

ellie let’s out a quiet chuckle.

“apollo one”

she lifts herself up, taking the pin in her hand. her green eyes begin examining it, brushing her fingers on the golden metal. you sit quietly for a while, allowing ellie to be one with her thoughts. she doesn’t know what to think, what to feel, really. sorrow? regret? tears threaten to fill the brim of her eyes, so with her back to you, she sighs deeply and swallows them up. you bring your hand to lay a small caress on the small of her back, and ellie gazes to the side. she grabs your hand, and plants a small kiss on to your fingers. “ellie…” you silently whisper, and ellie sniffles.

“it’s alright, m’okay” she assures, and lays herself on top of the blanket again. her hand still holds your fingers, and you bring them around her thumb and squeeze. “thank you” she voices. before telling her that you’re not the one she should thank, a small tear flows down her cheek. you’d wipe it away, but ellie grabs your other hand and interlocks her fingers with yours. “sometimes it… fuck—“ she laughs, it occurss to both of you you’ve never quite seen her cry. “it’s okay” you comfort. keep going, you got her. ellie deeply sighs, “feels like i don’t deserve any of this”. the tear is hanging from her chin now, then flows down to her neck. you don’t ask her why, because now is not the time, but you’ll ask her one day. for now, all you do is assure her that she does. and for once in her life, she actually might start to believe it.

⋆˙⟡♡

apparently, chocolate cake, raspberry jam and some bubbly champagne (that you stole borrowed from the tipsy bison) can really get you two going. after hours of aimless giggling, tummies hurting from all of the fine delicacies, it’s time for your favourite past time— ellie and yours hypotheticals corner. naturally, with your head laying on top of her firm chest, you’re the one who starts. “okay, so… plants”, you gush. “mhm, so plants” ellie repeats, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your half covered shoulder. “which plant would i be?”

ellie thinks for a while— you two really take this seriously. she hums before responding, puffing some air from her nose. “chocolate plant, for sure”

interesting. you thought she’d say a certain flower, a delicate one, a soft one, one that blooms in the day. chocolate plant. “intersting… why chocolate? — ellie doesn’t quite know either. perhaps it’s because she loves chocolate and she loves you, and the champagne is making her feel giddy and silly and you’re her little chocolate bean, plant thing.

“cause it’s tasty” she responds, and you almost settle on that except… you seem to have an important anecdote you have a blinding urge to point out.

“well, it makes zero sense. you’ve never even tasted me”

that she hasn’t. yet.

ellie’s breath hitches inside her throat and she nearly chokes on her spit. do you know… what you’re doing? you muttered that sentence so innocently, so absentmindedly, and of course she hasn’t tasted you, but did that thought occur in your mind like it did in hers? you’re still smiling, patiently waiting for her response, and ellie can’t help but feel so… well, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what she was feeling. her cheeks however— light up in a shade of dusty pink.

“imagine if you like, ate me! i’d probably taste so…”

sweet? intoxicating?

“gross!” you exclaim, exaggerating and blowing your eyes out. ellie’s cheeks calm down a little, the pretty pink diminishing slowly. “thank god you’re not a cannibal…”

nah, she thinks she might be something worse.

slowly, ellie pushes her body closer to yours. you feel her faint breaths on the tip of your nose. “tickles…” you murmur, and ellie huffs out and smiles. it’s that smile she gives you before saying something. the way her eyes dart from your lips to your eyes… it makes you feel vulnerable, coy, and it’s as if she’s studying you, taking in your features one by one. perhaps, she loves seeing the way your eyelashes flutter like small butterfly wings when you feel her gaze on you.

“i have tasted you though” she rasps, her voice low and husky. her eyes are focused on your lips now, as hers slightly part, and then close up again. “you have?” you mumble, shy under her gaze. she hums, bringing the pad of her thumb to your lips again and pulling on your bottom one slightly. this time, you don’t have lemonade juice running down your chin. this time— the gesture is truly just for her. those lips… she thinks.

“you taste… good. and sweet, like…”, your lips curl up to a smile. “chocolate?” you complete. ellie hums again, her palm cupping your cheek. you feel warm, how are you always so warm? — even when you’re shivering cold, warmth is all she can feel.

“and vanilla… and coconut” she caresses your cheek with her thumb. you giggle, “you’ve never even had coconut”

“nah, but i can imagine…” — and oh, imagine she can. is this the champagne talking? it must be it, because that fizzling bubbly voice in her head would not let her go. funny, she doesn’t even feel drunk. “you taste sweet too” you state, nearly purring into her hand as she keeps delicately caressing your skin. she chuckles, “no i don’t” — and she’s right. she doesn’t taste sweet, in fact, she tastes minty and earthy and it makes you feel dizzy each time.

slowly, ellie gets her face even closer to yours. she sees your eyes twinkling, and she swears they shine brighter than every star she’s ever seen. back in the old times, nasa would have a field trip exploring your orbs. they might even find new galaxies in there, and ellie wishes she could explore each one. she really should have been an astronaut.

“ellie?” you quietly whisper. ellie nearly gets lost in the way you say her name, but responds to you nevertheless. “yeah babe?”

“can i taste you? to prove how… sweet you are?” — she knows you mean her lips, regardless, that dusty pink turns a deeper shade of crimson. she thinks it’s absolutely adorable, how you still feel the need to ask. however, she forgets that she asks you that question each time as well. can she… kiss you here? right below your ear? that feel good?

she doesn’t respond with words, but with actions. she cups your cheek harder now and with fervour, and she knows she needs to be romantic but she’s famished, so as soon as she feels your lips part— she plunges her tongue deep inside and you surrender to her domination. almost like a waltz, your tongues dance together, swirling around each other and tasting— and she still doesn’t taste all that sweet, but you do, and it makes her brain feel like mush. you whimper into her mouth and it almost sounds like your “els”, and she knows she needs to come out for air soon and break off the kiss but how can she? how can she when you’re so damn sweet?

her hand dips lower, placing itself on your throat, and she gives you that little squeeze (that she realised must have made you feel good, because you always had chills when she did and she could feel them), and this time— you really did whimper out her name. ellie groans, but you abruptly break the kiss, holding on to your stomach. she pants slightly, before releasing your throat from her grasp. “did i do something?“ she asks quietly.

thing is, she truly didn’t. in fact, it was that damn bee colony that did. she must have heard them buzzing and flying into each other and bumping into your stomachs walls and dip even lower and— “can you hear them?” you question— and you’re panicking slightly, she can tell.

“hear who?”, ellie looks around, but nobody’s there. intruders? clickers? you must have drank too much, but you really hadn’t so…

“it’s so fuckin’ stupid…” you whine, lowering your head and hiding your face in the crook of her neck. ellie still thinks you must have heard something for real— and by all means, it is real, just not… like that. “hey” she encourages, placing her hand on the back of your neck. if she dares to even move it to the front of it, you’d panic again and be totally screwed. ellie notices you’re holding on to your lower stomach, “does it hurt?” she questions, worrisome.

“no… no, s’not that…” you voice, an octave higher than a whisper. “just when… when you kiss me? like, when you kiss me like that, you know?”, you hide your face again, and ellie’s worried sick— oh god, you hate it. you hate it when she kisses you.

you take a moment to gather your thoughts, you can explain this.

you breathe deeply, and ellie still holds the back of your head. “you know how people say… that you have… butterflies, when you’re around someone you like?”

“uh huh” ellie sighs. she gets it now. you don’t have those butterflies. you get sick when she kisses you, it makes your stomach hurt and you hate it and hate her and she knew you were too good for her and fuck.

“well, mine feel more like… well, they feel violent. it feels like i’m going to explode. i call them my bees, my bee colony, it’s so fucking stupid and i feel like they’re everywhere—“

oh.

ellie laughs (finally), breathlessly so, and she giggles and squeezes your body closer to hers and you continue to ramble, your voice slightly muffled by the fabric of her hoodie. she’s going to squeeze you so hard you might die, and you start banging your hands on her chest and you’re embarrassed, mortified at your little confession and the bees are so mad! they're calling for a conference call and you nearly explode.

“babe, babe—“ ellie calls out, forcing your head out of her neck and nearly begging you to look at her. you don’t though, you shut your eyes tight as she looks at you and thank god you do because she looks so amused but so enamoured she nearly doesn’t even want you to look.

“you wanna know what i have?” she probes, and you finally open one eye to take a peak. “no!”, and immediately— you shut it again. “i don’t have butterflies either” she calmly states, playfully pressing on your nose so you can huff out and look at her. when you do, you expect to see a smile— but instead, you’re faced with a serious expression, ellies eyebrows furrowing.

“i have wasps”

“wasps?” you doubt her quietly.

“mhm…” her lips part and she licks her bottom one before she speaks. “more like… tigers, or like, lions. way worse than yours. i mean, i’m in terrible condition”— she chuckles, and she just might be.

her words don’t comfort you, in fact, they make you buzz even louder.

doe eyed, you look up at her. “lions?”

“mhm” she nods. lions that might just tear you apart on the grass if you keep on looking at her like that.

this time, when she kisses you again— you don’t hold on to your stomach, you place your hand on hers. as the bees grow even louder, crashing into each other and ruining your slippery insides, you swear you can nearly hear her own lions roar alongside with your buzzing. she grabs your neck and squeezes it again, you nearly shriek, and ellie groans into your mouth and she’s the one to stop, but for an entirely different reason now. “inside?” she murmurs, staring at your glistening, kiss swollen lips and at the drool that runs on one corner. “please…” you whine, and ellie’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head. please…? she repeats in her mind— and oh fuck.

⋆˙⟡♡

so she takes you inside, your hand in hers.

with the chocolate cake and the bottle of champagne and it’s glasses far forgotten, the sweet raspberry jam slowly melting away, the chocolate cake growing into a chocolate… pudding, the ants are sure to come. how pitiful, that bees will always triumph over them, and the wasps— or the lions, well, they triumph over everything.

what ellie wants to do right now, is take you up to her bedroom and ravish you in all your glory, but you’re no forgetful fool. with everything else washed away, how dare you forget her presents?, her moonflowers?

“ellie!” you exclaim, squeezing on her hand. “it’s nighttime! your birthday presents…” you wiggle out your eyebrows.

shit— she nearly forgot, she’s pretty sure that if someone placed an actual living and breathing dinosaur in her living room she wouldn’t even notice because you keep on rendering her a distracted mess.

besides, its your own fault, because how do you do that? how do you go from driving her crazy and making her want to eat you on the grass, to making her heart flutter and burst inside of her chest the moment after? you’re a magician, a witch, what the fuck are you? not a fairy— that’s for sure, fairies are scary.

“so… you wanna open them up or not?”

she wants to open you up. no, no! bad ellie! that’s definitely the champagne still talking (it’s long gone.)

“fuck yeah”

you grab the paper bags (with the little blue ribbon), and drag her upstairs. you physically drag her, because for some reason, opening her presents is making her incredibly nervous. you expected her to be more eager, to snap the bag out of your hand as soon as you allowed her, but instead— she sits on the bed and just waits. she’s waiting for you to hand them out to her.

the nervousness seems to eat you up as well, tummy aching (still the bees, but also some normal excitement)— and as you hand her the bag, a few questions start to arise.

what if she hates it? what if she hates flowers? what if she’s allergic to the ipomea alba, what if she starts sneezing and coughing and dying?! or what if she already managed to get over savage starlight? (in a matter of two days…) what if the cake sucked and she was lying all along and you’d disappoint her and she dumps you and—

“HOLY FUCKIN’ SHIT!!!!!!!!!” — she yelps, you didn’t even notice she opened the damn bag!

“this is…..” her eyes are bright and she smiles so big it nearly damn hurts the apples of her cheeks. “savage fucking star— fuck! s’the latest fucking one! how did you even manage to, fuck— gotta fuckin’ kiss you right now or i’d die”

ellie practically pounces on you, kissing you all over your face. cheeks— two kisses on each one, your nose, your forehead, your chin, both of your earlobes, “close your eyes, gotta kiss ‘em too”, your jaw, your neck…

“are you into me or something? cause it looks like you’re super into me, giving me this fuckin’ gift… dude. if you have feelings for me…”, she places her pointer and her middle finger on your chin and makes you look up at her. you stifle a giggle, “you gotta just tell me, might be into you too” she pecks your lip slowly and you instantly melt.

“we have to read it today… but only eight pages! gotta save it up”

she nearly buries her entire face in the comic book pages. she sniffs, “shit… even smells new” — a layer of fine dust adorns it, so you know it doesn’t.

“rented it from the library!” you chirp, the concept of libraries being one you merely only read about.

“there’s… something else in there too…” you begin. for some reason, giving her those flowers you picked makes you even more nervous. she curiously looks up at you. “there's more?”

you bend down to grab the paper bag off of the wooden floor. the moonflowers’ petals opened up, and there you were— awestruck again. “you can’t give me more things… it’s too much i don’t…” deserve it? you know she thinks so. regardless, she looks up at you adoringly, as your hand tremors and you lift the flowers out of the brown paper bag. you look at them, trying to decide if maybe you were just being delusional, maybe they’re not nearly as pretty as you thought they were when you came across them for the first time. perhaps they’re…

“woah…” ellie gazes at them, wide eyed. she doesn’t even know the meaning of them but yet she is nothing but mesmerised. “wh… what flower is this?” she asks, running her fingers on their dark green stems. when she reaches their creamy white petals, she moves her fingers even more delicately. caressing it, her knee nudges yours.

“moonflower” you reply silently, watching ellie’s digits adoring the bloom. “it’s… it’s really pretty”

you take a deep breath. “i picked it up cause… it reminds me of you”, you exhale, fiddling with your fingers. when she notices, she puts her hand, the one with the flowers in it— on top of yours. the room is quiet, except for ellie’s shallow breaths.

“it um… well… first of all, it’s beautiful, like you”, you flush, and ellie flushes as well. she swallows deeply, and involuntarily, a small “fuck” escapes from her throat.

“and… they’re not supposed to grow in jackson. it was purely by accident, so they’re special… like you, and uh… well, they only bloom during the night, which is why i waited. they’re strong, and they’re deadly, i mean— the venom is… so don’t… eat it, i guess.” you chuckle, and you barely even notice two fat tears streaming down your cheeks. “they remind me of you because they’re the prettiest flowers ive ever seen, and when i saw them… i was kinda of like… woah, just like what happened when i saw you for the first time, remember?” — ellie sniffles, and ellie’s crying. “so… you’re my moonflower”

ellie doesn’t know what to do. she looks up, covering her face with her hands. she wipes away a stupid tear, and then wipes away your precious one.

one whole minute passes.

“if i ever…” she begins, swallowing hard. “if i ever lose you? i think i might die” — because the moonflower needs sun to live, and you’re her sun, her lifeline.

you take her face in between your shaky palms. ellie’s lips hold a slight tremor, and then she laughs.

“i’m in love with you”

you don’t have to say it back. you really don’t, because again — actions speak louder than words. your soft lips meet her slightly chapped ones, and ellie hums into the kiss. different than the one before, this one is gentle, dim, the lust hasn’t disappeared— it’s still there, but it has something more to it, not diminishing it, just hovering above. could you guess what it is?

“i love y…” you whisper out, attempting to break the kiss, just if you could simply say this one thing, but ellie knows, she knows. she pulls you by the back of your neck more forcefully now, deepening the kiss. because you couldn’t finish your sentence, you pout— but ellie suckles on your bottom lip and wipes your silly pout away. her hand goes lower, from the back of your head to hold on to your waist, and she squeezes the covered flesh. you moan into the kiss, tasting her spit and her tongue, and oh god— the bees. you think you might have just another precious gift for her. one she’s been waiting for, one she’s been fantasising about, one that you’ve been fantasising about. when you moan into the kiss, ellie breaks it. she’s staring you down, panting again. “think i… have… one more gift” you whisper, and ellie— her lips parted, nods once. “one more?” she rasps, squeezing your waist again and pulling you up to straddle her. “mhm”, you hiccup as you feel yourself snugly pressed up against her.

she places one hand on your thigh, simply caressing it back and forth. the more up she goes, the more your breaths become uneven and so do her’s. it’s not entirely an unfamiliar territory— you've been seated on her lap a few times before (seven, but whos counting? she is), but this is… different. “whats your gift, huh?” she teases. you? are you going to be her gift? you always have been…

you whine when she traces small circles with her slender fingers on your clothed inner thighs. you whine and it makes ellie throb— you’ve never quite made that noise before, and she yearns to pull every single noise you could possibly make out of you. a whimper, a moan, god— a scream. she feels like she’s about to explode and christ, you’re still fully clothed.

like a hunter examining it’s prey, ellie moves her face forwards, and then downwards, towards your neck. she places a few chaste kisses, “ah! tickles…” ellie chuckles darkly, yearning to “tickle” you once more. she plants two more delicate, tickling kisses before suckling on the flesh. at first, her tongue meets your skin and she laps up at it. then, her teeth bite into it, and you nearly jump. “sorry… that hurt?” she asks, and really, she’s not sorry at all. “feels…” ellie cuts you off and sucks again. this time, she’s determined to leave a mark. “oh… feels…” you continue, shuddering in her arms like glass. she hasn’t even touched you, not really, and yet everything feels damp. your face, from your tears and from her tears and from spit, to the flesh of your neck that’s being sucked on and played with, down to the small wet patch inside your panties that you’d be mortified if she noticed.

when she finishes the assault on your neck, she moves up to your lips again and grunts when she sees how your lips were already parted, just for her. the kiss is slow, wet, her tongue kitten licking your own. it’s nasty, really, wet smacking and sucking noises filling the air. almost involuntarily, your hips start moving and grinding up against her thigh. ellie moans deeply. “mmph… yeah?” she teases, or at least tries to, because her voice is shaky and turned on to the max. she helps you move slightly, and my god she needs to take your pants off and feel your naked heat against her like this. when she thinks about what it must be like for you— she imagines your fat pussy lips squished up inside your panties, grinding on her thigh and she nearly loses it. she wants to help you grind harder… could she make you cum just from that? cum inside your pants whilst using her thigh? “fuuuck”, ellie groans and lifts her hand up, nearly smacking your ass but it ends up just landing on her own leg.

“s’not fair… what you’re doing…” she murmurs in your ear, “what did… what did i do?” you respond back, your voice high and needy. ellie doesn’t even know what she meant to say. all she knows is that it’s not fair. it’s not fair how you make her react and feel like this, the way your eyes glisten isn’t fair, the way you grind up on her thigh and make those sounds isn’t fair, the way you make her feel sticky and mushy and wet — without even taking your clothes off, isn’t fair.

still moving with fervour on top of her legs, her hand is dangerously close to where you need her the most. she nearly cups it, flips you over and ravishes you whole, but she stops herself. “can i please… take your fuckin’…” she rasps, running her short fingernails on your sides. she’s not scratching, but it’s not an entirely gentle movement either. she doesn’t know where to start, should she ask you to take your top off? your pants? — maybe she should just ask you to go completely naked. she settles on the little top, however.

you lift the fabric up slowly, but you do it out of nerves. as much as ellie wants it off, she lets you take it slow. you peel it off, exposing your skin inch by inch— do you even know how bad you’re teasing her right now? “ah, fuck” ellie groans out. when the shirt meets the top of your head, it gets stuck there for a second. you giggle nervously, your lacey bra on full display, and ellie considers just leaving you there to struggle by yourself. if your eyes are covered by the material, maybe you won’t notice how hard she’s staring. “need some help there, babe?” she teases as she leans back on her elbows. your laugh is muffled, and ellie chuckles. how are you so goddamn sexy and adorable at the same time? after ten whole seconds of struggling, ellie lifts it up for you. “there, good girl… wasn’t that hard, right? just needed my help?” she teases, and god is she mean— that little twinkle in her now much darker green eyes making you feel like your ears are about to melt off.

swiftly, ellie begins planting soft kisses all over your collarbones. her hand isn’t touching your breasts quite yet, but it’s hovering on top of them, and then you realize— she’s waiting for your approval, for your yes. you put your hands around her neck and push her forward, which makes her hands land on top of your breasts. ellie moans as soon as she feels them, and even though they’re covered by fabric — the lace is thin and she can feel your hardening nipples. she runs her thumb over the swollen buds and you shiver. “knew you’d be sensitive…” she murmurs to herself against your skin. “what did… uh, what did you say?”, you stutter, and then she looks up at you. “said…” she flicks it and you buck your hips. “fuck… knew you’d be sensitive”

she knew… you’d be? “you’ve, uh… thought about this before?” — and ellie chuckles, fully laughs nearly. if you only knew how many times she’s thought about this you’d probably crumble like a danish biscuit. “too many times” ellie confesses, and she almost gets too embarrassed to admit, but she swears she can feel a little wet patch on her jeans so she knows you must have thought about this as well, perhaps more than she has — but not likely. “i have too” you murmur shyly, and there it is.

“oh, really?” she asks, kissing right in between of your tits and making you jolt. if her lips feel this good on your chest… your eyes roll back to the top of your head. “so you’re just as filthy, huh?”, her right hand lands on your ass with the smallest smack, she knows she could make it hurt if she wanted to (and she does), but not yet. you jump and squeal, and in a random burst of confidence — “m’filthier…” you whisper.

with that, ellie grunts and takes your tits in her palms, she kneads the swollen flesh, pushing both of your breasts together and kisses right between the formed cleavage. “bet you’re filthier…” she whispers, opens her mouth so her tongue can stick out and lick between your cleavage line. when she does so, she brings her hand to your back and unclasps your bra with just her two fingers. she lets it cascade down, and she notices how shy you get, trying to bring your hands to cover yourself up. ellie is faster than you, and grabs both of your wrists so you can’t. you’re fully exposed, and ellie’s all pants and heavy breaths. when you try to wiggle yourself out of her grip, your tits move and bounce in the slightest, and ellie’s in trance. “you’re so… fuckin’ pretty” she takes your hard nipple in her mouth and you wince as soon as you feel her pink muscles wetness. “that feel good huh?” she takes your other breast in her hand and toys with it, palms it and making it shake.

with hungry kisses, she lays you down on her bed. you buck your hips forward, and ellie parts your legs with her own. she runs her hands all over your body, and before kissing you again, she stops. “els?” you ask, but ellie ignores you. ellie takes her top off, and fuck you’re nearly drooling. she wasn’t even wearing a bra, and her pretty pink nipples are just as hard as yours. you’re staring, and it’s ellie’s turn to go shy. “you like… ‘em?” she giggles, “shit, nevermind”

you don’t expect it, but ellie grabs the brown paper bag and pulls the moonflower bouquet out of it. “wh… what are you doing?”

“don’t worry about it” — she places the flowers on your chest. for some reason, your ears start to burn. “hold ‘em like that for me?” she asks, and you do. with ellie straddling you, it almost looks like she’s about to pull out a camera and take a picture. “perfect…” she murmurs, “feels like i marked you. s’over for you, you’re mine, y’know that?”

you think you’ve always known. “yours” you whisper coyly, giving her that toothy grin that makes her melt into a puddle. she leans forward, kissing the tip of your nose. “yours who?” she kisses your cheek, and then below it, and then on your jaw. “yours… ellie” — and she must be smiling, because you can feel her lips curl up on your skin.

she kisses you everywhere, on every scar, every blemish, sometimes she bites, but then soothes it with her tongue. you’re growing impatient, the pressure down your panties becoming insufferable. before she unbuttons your pants, she unbuttons her’s. she pulls them down, to sit right below her boxers covered ass. she comes up again, kissing on your tummy, and then — she puts her ear to it. “m’hearing them…” she murmurs. “they're… talking to me, the bees are begging me to fuc—“

“ellie!” you call out, embarrassed. you try and muffle your giggles with your hand but it’s all for nothing, because when she pulls your pants down you gasp. she takes a moment to stare, she could just stare at you forever, she thinks. ellie toys with the waistband of your panties, running her pointer finger on the line. she’s breathing heavy, and you’re nearly wheezing. she bends down to kiss your sopping covered cunt, “oh fu— wait!” you call out.

“i’m… i feel, i’m too shy i can’t…”, ellie smiles and kisses it again. she knows you are. “feels like i might—“ you cry out, feels like you might what?

“explode!”

“you might… but i got you, yeah?” ellie coos, and this time, she doesn’t kiss it, she runs her tongue along the wet patch. she wiggles it from side to side and fuck, she can taste you already and she thinks she might be addicted. your thighs tense and they involuntarily wrap around ellie’s head. she chuckles, and parts them apart. to soothe you, she runs her fingers on your inner thighs and caresses you gently. she kisses your clothed clit and she swears she just felt it pump. “awh… yeah?” she coos again, and it feel like she’s talking to your pussy and not to you. you whimper and drop your head back, and she sucks on it. she’s making the fabric grow nearly sheer with her tongue, and when she sees the outline of your pussy lips she moans deeply. “so wet…” she murmurs to herself, “this all for me, huh? did i do something?” she looks up at you, and your eyes are tightly shut, not even in a place where you feel like you can talk.

you’re fuzzy everywhere.

“can you answer me?” she warns, but chuckles when she sees your back arching as soon as she pulls your soaking wet panties to the side. you hum, “all f— for you”, but ellie doesn’t even hear it, because she’s faced with the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

your glistening folds, the tiny swollen button on top, and your hole practically clenching in and out over nothing and she thinks she might just die. she spits on it with a small “ptu”, watches as her warm saliva cascades down from your clit to your inviting hole. when you clench, your hole absorbs some of her spit and she groans deeply. “fuck that’s cute”

you’re panting, a sweet harmony of “please, ellie!” escaping your lips, and when you accidentally muttered a pathetic, squeaky “puhleaseee!” ellie scratched the idea of slowly, butterfly kissing your cunt till you’re begging and began placing an open mouthed kiss on it.

as her tongue meets your clit for the first time, you clutch your thighs around her head. it happens twice before she forces them open, “quit that, gotta see you” — she warns, and you listen because you just do. “look at me” she instructs, her voice muffled by your sweet pussy in her mouth. her tongue laps up the wetness from your hole, brings it to the top of your clit and sucks. ellie hums, she was right — you really are fuckin’ sweet. “so good…” she murmurs, “doin’ such a good job”, truly, you aren’t even doing anything, just squirming and whimpering under her touch. she moves her tongue around and you swear you just felt her spell something with it, “ellie!” you cry, and ellie’s breath hitches down her throat so she comes out for air and spits on your cunt again. she rubs the wetness with her fingers, then separates your pussy lips with her thumbs so she can see all of you.

you’re just like a flower, she thinks. slowly, she places her tongue on your clit again, but with her fingers on it still, she begins toying with your tight hole. she merely teases it, probing your entrance with her ring finger. “gonna put it inside, that okay?” she asks, but you’re unresponsive, a blabbering mess who doesn’t even remember her own name. ellie chuckles, she could probably do anything she wanted. she slips it inside, feeling your gummy walls squeezing her in, and she moans right when you do. “oh… gosh, ellie!”

“so fuckin’ tight” she whispers, returning her mouth on your clit and suckles deeply. she adds a second finger and now you’re gone, fully consumed by this filthy, pleasure filled monster. “i think m’gonna!” you cry and ellie whimpers out, nearly going cross eyed when she notices you’re toying with your nipples just like she did. “explode?” she breathlessly says. “c… cum!”

“good fuckin’…” she wants to complete that sentence, but instead her tongue dips lower and her hands push your thighs so your knees are pushed up against your chest. it goes even lower, licking your tightest entrance, the one that’s never been explored, not even by your own hands, and when she flicks her tongue upon it and then immediately goes back to your swollen clit you’re—

“cum’… m’cumming! m’cumming!” and yeah you are, ellie thinks, and slaps one of your thighs. you're jolting when you do, her name leaving your mouth like a prayer, and pray as much as you want but heaven will not be the one that accepts you, perhaps it’ll be purgatory, but with her in it it’s more than perfect. “uh huh… cum for me”

when you do, you see stars, and ellie sees moonflowers.

she laps up your saccharine juices, sucking them off her fingers one by one. you’re feeling faint, buzzing everywhere, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. ellie looks up at you, eyelids half shut. when you see the index finger that was deep inside of you just a moment ago, go inside her mouth, her pouty pink lips around them and she’s lapping it up and she’s greedy— you cringe a little. she’s tasting and tasting and humming, “told you… you’re sweet”

[shy-writer-999]

OP Headcanons: Monster Trio on the Phone

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

A/N: Descriptions of how the monster trio would act during a (spicy) session on the phone. (+ what they’d say to afab reader)

Zoro: The Pretender

Zoro looks at your nudes so much that he gets worked up and needs help. He’ll call you late at night. In the privacy of his own cabin, he can groan as loud as he likes. When Zoro calls you, he’s sitting on his bed, propped up on the wall, fisting his cock at the thought of you riding him. He’s shirtless and his black boxer briefs are pulled down so he has enough access to touch himself. Zoro imagines how wet and hot your cunt is when it’s wrapped around his shaft and thinks about how your tits bounce in his face when you’re straddling him.

Zoro just pretends you’re having sex, and he will say the exact same things on the phone that he says when he fucks you… but instead of fucking you, he fucks his fist. He adjusts his grip slightly and plays with his tip so it feels just right. What gets Zoro going the most is to hear your soft moans and whines through the phone, to think of the fact that you’re getting off at the thought of him, too. He thinks it’s hot that you’ll drop everything for him when he calls you in the late hours of the night. Zoro’s voice is dripping with desire, coated in desperation already, trying to retain some of his dignity when he needily says he’s touching himself and wants you to do the same.

When Zoro’s worked up and having phone sex, these are the things he says between his deep grunts and groans:

“Want to hear your voice so bad… Will you touch yourself for me?” “’M hard already, wanna hear you say my name” “Fuck, need your pussy so bad” “Does my cock feel good?” (this is when he starts gets carried away by fantasy) “Fucckkkk, take it all for me” “Bounce on my cock just like that” “Your pussy feels amazing” “Feels so good on my cock baby” “Wanna cum in you”

After he’s done pretending like he just railed you, he gets a bit sheepish because he was so carried away. He cleans his cum off his hands and lower abdomen. Zoro loves that you humor him. The next time he sees you, he’s extra lovey-dovey. He’ll give you a tight hug and a forehead kiss and whisper “thanks babe” sweetly in your ear.

Sanji: The Dirty Talker

Sanji calls you first; some nights he just can’t get you out of his mind and if you’re not on the ship, he has to do something about it. When he calls you, Sanji is laying down on his bed, naked and hard already, with his thighs spread wide. One hand trails up his abs and across his chest (he’s imagining that it’s your hand) and the other leisurely strokes his cock as he says filthy things to you. Sanji’s goal is to get you just as horny as he is—and he usually succeeds. He imagines you teasing your own clit and folds, getting wet and vulnerable for him. Sanji wants to know that you want him too. Often, Sanji prioritizes how you’re feeling over his own pleasure. He thinks it’s special that you’re comfortable enough with him to do this, and his heart does a flip every time he hears even the most muted puff of breath or soft mewl through the phone.

 Sanji likes it when you describe what you’re doing and what you’re feeling. He eats it up every time you say, “feels good, Sanji” or “I want your cock so bad, Sanji.” Similarly, he likes telling you what to do, but in the event that you take the reins, he all but loses his mind. He’s partial to telling you to “put one finger in, my darling,” and also will use those lovely pet names to say the filthiest things, like “fuck yourself with your fingers, sweetie,” or “do you want my cock inside of you, my love?” When you moan Sanji’s name sweetly, he thinks he’ll pass out from the deadly combination of pleasure and butterflies. He likes to take his time while he strokes himself, milking as much precum from his cock as he can. Sanji doesn’t want to cum until after you have, and then when he gets close to climax he’ll start whimpering and whining.

This is what Sanji says when he's getting nasty on the phone:

“My love, I’m thinking about you…” “I want you to rub your clit just for me, get all wet and sloppy” “Touching yourself for me over the phone, baby, so fucking hot” “I want to hear you, my love” “Doing such a good job, sweetheart” “Does it feel good?” “Wish I could fuck you right now” “Want you to cream on my cock” “Feels fucking amazing” “I like to hear you moan, angel”

It’s Sanji’s guilty pleasure to cum on his own stomach and imagine you licking off every last drop. His heart is full afterwards and he can’t wait to see you. Before he hangs up the phone, he says thank you. He reminds you of how much he loves you, reminds again, calls you “my love,” and “my dear,” and then he refuses to hang up first. He can’t get enough of you.

Luffy: Utterly Clueless

*First time writing for Luffy – not sure if I did him any justice. I took a different direction for this one, it's a bit nasty... and longer than the others. Includes some dumb p0rn logic lol

You call Luffy first, already worked up, holding your thighs together in an attempt to stop your core from throbbing. Luffy is initially clueless, as he’s never done phone sex before, but he gets so turned on when finally realizes what’s happening—and then he goes all in. Luffy is laying on his bed, fully clothed, on his back with his head hanging off the foot of the bed. When he answers the phone, his voice is chipper and friendly, like usual.

“Luffy,” you whine. “I’m feeling warm between my legs…”

“Oh, are you okay?” Luffy is unfazed, wondering why you called him about it.

“I think so, but I want it to stop.” You sound distressed. “What should I do?”

“Have you, uh… tried checking out what’s going on down there?” He’s confused.

You pause and answer with a whimper. “Yeah, it’s all wet and tingly.”

Luffy responds in all sincerity. “Oh… Why don’t you touch it? Maybe that will help.” His mental gears start turning.

“O-okay… I will…” Your hands sneak down into your underwear. When your fingers hit your wet folds, you let out a barely audible moan. “Lufffyyy, it’s hot and sticky.”

Luffy can feel himself starting to get hard—the idea of you with your fingers in your panties letting out needy sounds is starting to get him off. His heartbeat quickens and he runs a palm over his growing erection. He isn’t quite sure why it’s turning him on this much, but he can’t stop because it feels so good.

“Is it helping?” His voice is starting to sound gruff.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed out. “I’m rubbing my fingers on it, feels good.” Luffy’s heart skips a beat, and he grinds his palm down harder.

“Well, if it’s helping then you better not stop,” he responds, his muscles tensing up as his cock becomes rock hard. It’s starting to form a tent in his shorts, he increases the pressure of his palm and the friction makes him feel like he’s on fire.

“Okay, I won’t stop…” your voice trails off and he can hear you pant as you pass your fingers up and down your wet folds, brushing your sensitive spot and toying with your own slit. You slip a finger in and out, increasing the speed.

A few moments of silence go by. Luffy keeps rubbing himself. “Are you still there, Y/N?”

You answer him with a moan that turns into a “Mmmhmm—fuuucckkkkkk.”

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He rasps, voice deepening—he thinks he knows the answer. His cock is throbbing and you’ve slipped in a second finger.

“I-I’m pushing my fingers in and out, Luffy,” you keen, breathless. His mouth goes dry. You moan again, your tone increasing in desperation. “Wish it was you instead.”

He feels his heart stop for a moment. Luffy is so turned on that he pushes his shorts down and brings his cock out, precum already beading on his tip. He starts tugging on his length, letting out a soft grunt. You were fingering yourself right now and he could hear it. He feels like he is going feral. Something about you always makes him feel weird inside. He gets aroused whenever you’re around—it’s never happened to him with anybody else. He catches himself staring at your ass and tits whenever he can. He can’t get you out of his mind.

Luffy starts to stroke his cock harder. Pleasure is rippling down his shaft and into his core, and he’s starting to let out his own sounds of need. “Y/N,” he grunts your name out. “Keep telling me w-what you’re doing.”

“I-I, Luffyyy, my fingers feel so good, so wet” you moan, toes curling in pleasure as your fingers curl inside of yourself. You pull them out and plunge them in with increasing speed and Luffy’s speed increases, too. “Want your cock so bad, Luffy. Need you inside.”

His hand squeezes tighter and tighter, jerking his cock up and down, hips bucking up into his fist. He feels like he’s going crazy, his speed becomes frantic, frenzied. When he hears you moan his name again, he groans. “Nnnnggghhhhhh, Y/N, I feel—Feel like I’m c-cumming, fuuuuccckkk.”

With one last, shuddering thrust upward into his own fist, Luffy proceeds to cum all over himself. You finish almost immediately after. The next time you see him, he’s blushing and says that he wants to do it again.

(o˘◡˘o) (っ˘ω˘ς )

Thanks for reading!! I hope u liked it :3

PART 2 UP NOW! Ft. Law The Instructor and Ace The Sweet Talker!

and here's my masterlist if ur interested

[sweetheartbitesb4ck]

part one || this is part two || part three || part four

Simon wakes up late, rubbing his eyes and groaning. Usually- because of his big, strong build- he would get away without getting hungover, but today felt different.

His eyes widen as he remembers the antics of the night before, peering down at the inside of his wrist and the smudged scrawl of numbers. "Fuck..." Ghost gulps, standing up from his messy bed and pulling open the blinds to the mid-day sunshine. Thank goodness it was the weekend.

After a moment of just standing idly, recounting the evening as well as questioning life choices, Simon glances at his phone, turning it on only to see the bombardment of texts and notifications. Most texts were from Soap and Gaz, begging for a follow up on the 'window lassie' but also multiple from his other mates (who Soap had obviously blabbed too about the encounter) pretty much pleading for information and context.

"Shit," He moans, grabbing on a T-shirt and fumbling the blurry number into his contacts. He didn't even know your name, let alone why he was quite so smitten with you. The soldier takes a while typing out and deleting messages, almost feeling panicky over what to send. Christ this girl is making me soft. He thinks, frowning slightly as he hovers over the send button.

'hi'

It had taken him four whole minutes to pluck up the courage just to send two letters. 'hi'.

What the fuck.

You look over at your phone as it buzzes, peering at the notification from an unknown number. You assumed it was the man in the mask- Simon- from the previous night.

'who is this?' you respond, clicking send without a second thought. You raise your eyebrows a little at the immediate response.

'Simon' You read his text out loud, laughing at how eager he must have been to reply so quickly. After adding him to your contacts under the name 'mask man (Simon)' you return to your conversation with the man. You giggle again as you see Ghost typing on and off for at least five minutes, spluttering as he finally sends 'U ok' three letters. No punctuation. Damn.

Simon perches on the end of his mattress, phone clutched firmly in his large hands. He was still texting you, freaking out a bit as he sees the three dots appear. He had that weird feeling in his stomach again... That unfamiliar (unfamiliar to Simon, at least) feeling that must be what other people describe as 'butterflies'. He stares into space, whole body jumping up as the phone pings.

'I'm good thanks'

'You?'

Ghost grins widely as he reads it, palming his face as if to switch back to a grumpy exterior. He couldn't fathom why he was getting so giddy over this girl and was even more surprised that he was this giddy without even drinking anything. (Not counting the night before, of course.)

'good'

You smile at his answer. You felt as if you knew this man you'd never even spoken to properly. Heck, you'd never even seen his face, but still found yourself blushing at the thought of him.

Taking a deep breath, Simon sends another text. Goodness knows how long it took him to write those three deadly words- 'are you free today?' He turns his phone off, tossing it onto the bed and pacing around the room for a minute. It was very cliché and comical, but very unironic.

When the mobile vibrates again, he throws himself across to the phone, heart beating quickly and face red with nerves.

'yeah. wanna get coffee or something?'

Ghost's reaction is the text book definition of a jaw drop, his eyes widening and pulse thumping in his ears. He jolts up again and starts rummaging through his chest of draws for any clothes that were somewhat decent. "I need new clothes, what the fuck is this shit..." He mutters, grimacing at the tatty old jeans and tops with weird and out of date slogans.

Unbeknownst to Simon, you were doing the exact same thing, grabbing out dresses and jeans and T-shirts and jackets, squinting at the old stuff you'd probably had since you were a teenager. You return to your phone, realising you hadn't proposed a time or place for meeting up.

'is 3ish good? The coffee shop along West Street?'

You can't help but feel a buzz of excitement as Simon replies with a thumbs up emoji, your whole face lighting up as you rush back to picking out a nice outfit.

All this for a man I barely know? You think, raising your eyebrows absent-mindedly. Sure. Why the fuck not.

At three, you stand outside the suggested café feeling way more anxious then you had expected to. You glance at your phone every so often, fidgeting with the hem of your jacket and gazing around at passers by trying to pick out your date from the crowds. Date? You thought it was a date, at least.

Simon rushes down the road, stuffing his wallet and phone into the pockets of the cleanest jeans he could find. He tugs on a jacket as he speed walks, also hosting a plain black T-shirt and the same skull printed balaclava as before. He figured he should probably explain the mask... just to ensure you didn't think he was a robber, or something sketchy.

Yet again, his heart starts to pound as he catches sight of you, his cheeks burning beneath the mask. He approaches you with a slower pace, trying to seem nonchalant. "Hi," He gasps, doubling over to catch his breath. Simon was usually a very fit man, what with his work, but the anticipation seemed to make him weaker.

"Hello," You respond, smiling warmly at the man. Still in that mask, huh? You think, raising your eyebrows and looking down as he gasps for air. "Are... you okay?" Stuttering slightly, you reach out, hand hovering over Simon's back unsure weather to pat it or hold him up or at least help him in some way.

"Sorry-" He grunts, standing back up and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I ran," He gushes, trying to justify his panting.

"Oh..?" You nod, a bit confused. "Should we go in?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. Ghost smiles with his eyes and nods, tentatively placing a large hand on your back as you walk inside together.

here's the part two, hope you enjoyed it!

I'll do part three if you guys want! (I'll probs do it anyways bc what can I say, I'm kinda invested)

@scaleniusrm

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

✧Night Moths

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Arthur has a simple task to do, searching for any lead possible at the Mayor's party. Only problem? You also have a job of your own. Based on “The Gilded Cage” ✦ Warnings/tags: guns, strangers to…sinners?, SMUT 18+, reader is part of a St Denis gang, cover names used at first, smoking, Arthur is extremely horny and a little rough with you (you pushed his limits), cursing, outdoor sex, fingering, tits play, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v ✦ Words: 9,8k ✦ a/n: YES. I KNOW. This is super long. I have absolutely zero excuse. I feel like this is my best piece yet, but I'm so nervous about posting it! Once again, a big thank you to the incredible @zae-heeyyy, my jedi master, my confidence-booster and patience Queen, who beta-read this big baby and helped me so much with so many things, as always. (Go check her blog I'm begging you)

Glasses are twinkling and clinking all around you. Words are spoken, laughs are let out, champagne drank.

You're leaning against one of the stoned garden walls, fancy decor of the Mayor's house, the perfectly cut bushes looking just as fresh and neat as every guest at this party. You can hear the distinguished music coming from a quartet playing under a gazebo a few meters away from you, and smell the fresh air of the night blending with aromas of flowers, expensive alcohol, hint of vanilla and sweet scents hiding a stronger note of sweat and cologne. Around you, all the richest, wealthiest, and noteworthiest of people in St Denis. You can hear them talk; their conversation as dull and superficial as an empty chrysalid, an abandoned cocoon emptied from all substance, from all interest and life.

You hated those kinds of discussions. Hated those kinds of people, the ones that have the easiest and simplest life one could ever have; being fed, being cared for, even being told what to think and do. You almost envied them in a way, they didn't have to worry about a single thing apart from losing their power. It seemed comfortable somehow, worry-free. The exact opposite of what you had always known.

And yet, you had to bear with them. A very specific task had been assigned to you by your gang. A simple job, one you were often sent off to as you had grown by the years into a great thief and a terribly efficient shapeshifter; blending into any type of party, or gathering, always making a good impression, putting people at ease. You were now an expert at this little game, especially with rich men. They were all the same, always wanting more, demanding the same thing from you. You had learned how to play with their greediness and lust to turn it into your advantage, saloons becoming your jungle as you sneaked easily between your prey to rob them, a deadly and redoubtable leopard in a world of apes.

You needed to steal some important documents from the mayor's office. The main informer of your gang had specified it was a pretty strong lead, and that you could gain a lot from it; something to do with Leviticus Cornwall's dirty deeds with the mayor, a blackmail opportunity. 

Your boss had decided to send you, knowing you would easily integrate the party, and even more easily steal the documents. So here you were, feline eyes looking all around you, scanning, observing, evaluating. You couldn't just come, steal the papers, and go; it would have been too suspicious. All the contrary, you needed to be seen and leave a good impression like you always did, maybe stay for a couple of hours, and then smoothly retrieve your goal before disappearing in the secrecy of the dark night. A flamboyant, harmless butterfly… on the surface.

You sighed, trying to pay attention to what was being said to you. Right in front of you, a middle-aged man was talking, explaining something about how he had acquired his incredible wealth. His speech was sadly boring, his eyes glum, his clothes basic, his face awfully bland.

The empty chrysalis in all its gloomy glory.

You forced yourself to nod and give the man a charming smile. This was your job. You had to at least do it properly. Why was tonight a lot harder than the others? Were you frightened to be right under the Mayor's nose, fooling him into his own home? Were you tired, or sick? 

In a way, you were. Sick of this life, of this constant pretending, of being here listening to the literal hollow vessel bragging about himself, sick of needing to appear actually interested, charmed even. 

Suddenly, the music coming from the quartet is too loud, sharp violin blending with his words, making you even less focused. You were here for too long already, you needed a break and to finish your mission.

You politely interrupted the stranger, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, a gesture that you had noticed was prompt to soften most men. Along with your most charming smile, you excused yourself from him and quickly walked to a less crowded area, praying that no one would interrupt you.

You made your way up to the exterior stairs of the luxurious mansion just before the patio door and windows, and stopped on top of them, placing your hands on the central low wall, between two Greek columns. Another fancy facade, the house itself was just an imitation from another culture. Did any of these fools have any personal identity at all?

From here, you had a good view of the whole party. Countless fake smiles, masks, a literal scene of a play that could have its place at the Théâtre Râleur. A play of pale phantom shells.

You reached for your purse, taking a cigarette out, mindlessly putting it between your lips. Maybe smoking would help. You searched for a match, silently cursing realizing you hadn't any left.

"Ya need some fire, Ma’am?"

A deep voice said behind you, making you turn, surprised. It was unusual for people to startle you, your ears had been trained to notice the faintest of footsteps in order to survive.

You got even more surprised considering who had talked. A man was standing before you. He was taller, and largely wider than you, his black suit struggling to contain what looked like a well-built body; which made you wonder how could he have been so quiet. His shoulders especially looked way broader than the men you had the habit of running into at those sorts of gatherings. A very classical white bow looked like it was strangling him. His black tailcoat and white jacket looked larger too, making you wonder how much did he had to pay for the tailor to sew them custom-made.

His hair had a soft indescribable color, somewhere between a light brown and a sandy blond. His face, the work of a brutal draftsman, rough edges and strong squared jaw gratified with some scars. One on his chin, another on his nose, nose that seemed broken now that you were thinking about it. It looked like the artist that had drawn this man had sharpened his pencils too much and traced lines in a hurry, piercing through the canvas, his features ending up rugged and scared, some trace of graphite shrapnel that would have damaged the portrait.

What disturbed you the most were his eyes. They looked out of place considering how robust his features were. One could have expected them to be dark, black even. But they were the exact opposite, their bright and soft indigo color leaving you disarmed, two sapphires locked on your own pupils.

He was handing you a match, and you slowly took it, your fingers slightly discovering how his palm felt under them. Firm, calloused.  Another stone-like feature of him.

He looked like those Greek statues carved by artists. His beauty so singular and yet enticing. So different.

"Why, thank you, kind sir." You showed your gratitude to him with a grin, lighting the match by simply rubbing it against the cold stone of the fence, a little flame appearing instantly. You brought it to your mouth, the cigarette finally catching fire, and you breathed in.

"Ya don't smoke much?" He questioned, voice deep. You hadn't noticed how deep it was the first time, nor how pronounced his accent was, dragging and drawling every word, a slow melody of his own.

"Not too often, indeed." You informed him. It was the truth, you were basically just smoking during jobs to blend in more easily, most people doing it. It was an easy way to start a conversation with anyone. Just like he had done with you, you noted.

"Needed a break from high society?" He inquired, a sarcastic tone in his voice.

"I guess you could say that." You answered, exhaling a long drag of smoke. 

You were now completely turned to face him, your cigarette making back and forth from your mouth to the air where you tossed the burned ashes with a little movement from your thumb to the cigarette’s end. Your motions were elegant, distinguished but looked natural. It caught his interest.

"What's your name, sir?" You spoke again, curious about this uncommon newcomer.

"Tacitus Kilgore. What is yours, Ma'am?" He asked you back before placing himself on your left, both of you leaning on the low fence of the patio. 

You contained a chuckle. There was no way in the World this man was named like this. You knew something was odd about him. The scars, his knuckles redden and subtly wounded as if had fought recently.  His strong stature, miles away from a lazy bourgeois being served, his wild hair longer than the actual trendy haircut, his stubble fitting more a countryman than an actual St Denis gentleman. 

Years of playing with people and observing them had made your eyes alert and expert, and you could see when someone was pretending.

When someone was playing a role just like you were, not belonging into this World.

"Rose Schultz." Of course, it wasn't your real name either. You had to be a really poor thief to give him your actual one. He didn't react to it though, his face impassible just like the start of your whole conversation.

Apart from this vague feeling you had about him not being a rich gentleman, you found trouble in reading his emotions. His facial features were closed, impenetrable, mysterious. This also disturbed you as you had the habits of figuring men out right away; he on the other hand was a whole challenge by himself, his intentions hidden behind an emotionless face. This man probably was a champion at poker.

"Nice t' meet ya, Missus Schultz. Are you, erm, hidin' from someone here? Or jus' judgin' everyone from your perch?" He went on with a more amused voice.

"Just know that I'm not the type to hide from someone, Mister." You replied, a little grin curling up your lips.

"Yeah, you sure don't look like it..."

"You wanna know what I think you look like, Mister?"

"Go ahead."

"A wild horse who's trapped, and can't wait to be freed again."

Silence. His eyes stared deeply into yours, stabbing you in sharp blue flashes of Apatite, as keen as the blade of a knife. After just a few seconds, you finally see his mouth moving, his cold expression changing as a slight grin made his way between the stillness of his features.

"You sort of a witch or somethin' ?" He asked you, amused once again. His little smile is even more evident in his eyes, his lower eyelids crinkling slightly in amusement.

"Maybe." You answered cockily, feeling more at ease with him now that he was slightly more open. 

Still, there was something that was making you feel weak in the knees; maybe it was his tall stature, his strong build, or the palpable tension you could feel beaming out from him, as if he was ready to jump on someone who would have crossed him at any second.

In a way, you liked it. It was almost exciting.

"I better not mess wi’chu then. Don't wanna end up cursed or somethin'." He joked, features relaxing, body leaning slightly more against the low wall in a more comfortable position.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare. You also look like the type of man you don't wanna mess with..."

"I'm surprised how well you already know me, darlin'." He admitted, internally enjoying your conversation more and more.

Your heart swelled at the surname. It felt so good in your ears, it sounded better than from any person who ever said it to you. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to hear him say it just to you.

"I'm kinda talented at figuring people out." You simply replied, before taking another drag at your cigarette.

"I too. And I also think you're not here to jus' play nice with everyone and enjoy yourself." He suddenly confessed to you with a knowing gaze, eyebrows raising as if he was trying to make you understand something.

He knew too. You both knew you weren't from this world, like two predators from the same species, recognizing themselves, circling, judging, from one individual to another. Your breath stopped for a very short time, nobody could have noticed it, but somehow you were sure he did.

"Don't ya worry little "rose", I won't tell no one..." 

You didn't miss how he was playing with your false name. On top of being astonishingly handsome, he had some spirit…

He's still looking intensely into your eyes. "In return, I expect you to do the same...", he added in a low voice, his tone firmer and even more resonant than earlier.

A threat. His presence only intimidates you, and it's working so well that you're almost sure he must be an expert in terrorizing too. He must be one hell of a weapon all by himself.

You slowly nodded your head, trying to swallow as naturally as possible to look unphased. 

"Guess we have a deal here, "Tacitus"." You emphasized his name, making it clear you're more than doubtful about it being real too.

It made him laugh, and you almost lost it at the sound of it. It was as deep, raw, and genuine as his entire being seemed to be. You loved it. You loved it too much.

Exhaling some smoke, you noticed he had pulled out a cigarette too and had joined your smoking, holding it between his thumb and index finger. You had mixed feelings for this man. He was just as intimidating as he was enticing, and you let your curiosity win the best of you as you carried on your conversation with him.

"I hate it here." You suddenly confessed.

 There was no point in playing anymore, and even if you didn’t really know why you had told him that, a part of you felt like maybe, just maybe, he could have understood you.

"Yeah, I get what ya mean. Sometimes I think that those people are jus'… reptiles in fancy clothin'."

You had seen right. Your chest felt light, as if he had lifted a weight in you with just those simple words.

"I just want to be anywhere else but here. Somewhere nicer, more authentic. Like in Big Valley..." You went on with your regrets.

"You too know about this place uh? Yeah, I can picture ya picking flowers in Lil’ Creek..."

This time it was your turn to chuckle, your laugh creating a little puff of smoke in the air. Was he being serious or just teasing you? You didn’t really care. Now, you felt like something special was linking you both as you knew exactly where this spot was, a happy memory brought back in your mind thanks to his words. The wild and fresh river, the meadows covered in thousands of violet flowers, the snowy mountains in the background.

Your cristal-clear laugh made him smile back at you.

"So... What does a woman like you is actually doing here, then?" He asked you, his eyes roaming all along your body while he did. 

You were glad you had put on the prettiest dress you had, its dark burgundy color matching perfectly the tone of your skin, and its generous cleavage showing a delicious amount of your chest, underlined by a black translucent shawl covering your shoulders and twirling around your arms. You were offering a tempting sight for every man. You knew he had looked at it, his eyes lingering there had almost burned your skin, sent a warm feeling between your tights, and made your hand hold your cigarette tighter.

"You really thought it would be that easy, Mister?" You answered with another cheeky grin, looking at him with a sensual gaze, your words let out in a languorous whisper, knowing damn well he was trying to gain information, probably to probe if he could get something out of it for himself. "You really thought I would just confess everything to you about myself and what I'm doing here, just because you've got a firm tone and pretty face?"

He let out a dry single chuckle, his cigarette hanging in the air, smirking some more. This damn smirk, it was making you have more and more inappropriate thoughts about this man. The wildness, the dangerousness he was emitting should have made every girl flee, but you, all the contrary, were attracted by it like a moth to a flame.

Or maybe he was the Moth. Maybe he was the beautiful, singular, and ephemeral Moth in the world of chrysalides you were searching for all along.

"Oh trust me, I could make you spit out everythin' I want, Miss." He replied to your taunting words with the serious threatening tone he had used before. "Could make this pretty mouth behave..." He added, looking right into your soul, bending slightly towards you.

You felt like the tension was about to make your whole body burst. There was something between you two, you were sure he could feel it too. A sinuous, dark creature swimming and circling incessantly under the surface of a frozen lake; waiting, craving to be unleashed, to break the thin layer of ice that was keeping it caged.

He was inviting you to measure yourself to him. Bent towards you, wanting you to close the other half of the space between you both. A challenge, or a mark of respect, the case you didn’t want to venture into this territory.

But truth was, you wanted to. You wanted to break the ice yourself, you wanted to just kiss him, right here, right now.

Of course, it was a bad idea. And you were a professional, on a mission.

Instead, you put your hand on his bicep and brought your head inches away from his, not closing the space between your mouths. You’re accepting this silent fight, excited to show him what you’re capable of. You’re enveloped by his strong scent; your lips so close to his. You can see by his widening smirk how delighted he is you didn’t change your mind nor lost your guts. Responding to your bold move, he slowly snaked an arm around your waist. His hand landed on your lower back, just on the verge of being offensive.

Both of you stayed like this for a moment, your breath mixing, merging in a dangerous and exciting cocktail, but neither of you actually crossing the limit.

He could sense just how close he was to though, his muscles were tensed under your fingers, his forehead almost resting on yours with a light frown on it. You could see in his impassive handsome face a whole new emotion. 

Pure, raw lust.

"You're such a temptatious, thorny rose..." He mumbled in a hot whisper against your lips, the warmth between your legs now burning like a wildfire. Your pussy was aching for him, and you couldn't hold it anymore.

You felt his body twitching as he was going to finally do it, finally break the ice of the frozen lake, finally let his impulses and needs break free, his unholy, deep, atrociously torturous desires-

"Ah, Arthur !" A relieved voice interrupted both of you and he immediately let go of you, his head snapping to look at the man who had talked, eyes widening.

A tall gentleman with a perfectly cut mustache as black as his long curly hair and hat was looking at your companion with a contained,  amused smile.

"Will you excuse us, Miss?" He said unctuously to you, his voice polite and charming.

It was more of a statement than a question. He quickly took one of your hands and put a polite kiss on it before bending slightly towards you, as a gentleman would, and looked at your opponent with an insistent gaze.

Arthur was fulminating. He wasn't actually showing it, his face had come back to its usual cold, emotionless expression. But you could feel from where you were the unbearable tension and frustration that was dripping from his body language, almost as a halo of warmth you could physically touch with your hands. He took a last look at you, eyes expressing a mix of regret and bitterness.

"Goodnight, Miss." He coldly greeted you, walking next to you to follow his friend and go down the stairs, his shoulder brushing against yours while doing it.

"Goodnight, Arthur..." You answered him emphasizing his name once again, making it really clear that you remembered it was not the one he had given you and that you were pretty proud you had seen right. A playful, teasing grin on your face, you look one last time at him before he vanished in the ocean of guests.

Your Butterfly had disappeared just as quickly as he had materialized; leaving you alone with the empty cocoons once more. It was more than time for you to do your job and get out of here. Your cigarette finished, now feeling cold between your fingers, you tossed it away and headed into the mansion, feeling just as frustrated as so-called Arthur.

Arthur was pissed. He had never felt so frustrated in ages, and it was making his thoughts even less easy to discipline. His cigarette was on the verge of being smoked all at once from how intense he was getting and how heavy his breath had turned, the end of it constantly burning in a red shining little point as he was walking. 

This whole year he had felt like he didn't have any control over anything anymore and he hated it.

He was already feeling embittered in his everyday life, Dutch listening less and less to his opinion, Micah sneaking around him more and more, Mary coming back to him just to ask him to help her goddamn father who had always treated him like shit. 

On top of that, Dutch had made him look like an idiot using his actual name in front of you, making him wonder what was even the whole point of having a cover if he wasn't capable of sticking to it; which he had bitterly pointed out to him, but his superior had shrugged it off, seemingly happy to be here amongst the important people, looking as careless as ever.

Yes, Arthur was feeling frustrated, frustrated and tired of this. Tonight, instead of giving of himself, he wanted to take, for once. He needed to, even. He was about to before being interrupted, and this thought was gnawing at him from the inside. 

He was barely paying attention to what Dutch was saying to him and the others once Hosea and Bill had joined them. All he could see was your insanely beautiful face, your inviting lips, the perfect outline of your breasts from your cleavage, like engraved into his pupils.

The way you were talking, charming and teasing, the way you were smoking, all of this dreadfully turning him on during all your conversation. He had made an enormous amount of effort in order not to just kiss you.

He had joked about you being a witch, but it was the only explanation: you had bewitched him, threw your darkest, most sinful curse on him. Never in his life he had felt so attracted to someone after having talked with them for only such a short amount of time. What an insane fool he was.

On top of it, he was raging about the fact he probably wouldn't have the occasion to see you ever again. He had understood you clearly weren't just another rich man's wife, and he was certain you had given him a false name. His cock was throbbing terribly hurtfully in his pants, making his jaw clench, his brows frowning even more than usual. It was begging to be buried in you, between your legs, in your mouth, or your hands, even your breasts or your ass, anything but the cold feeling of nothingness he was feeling right now around it.

The sudden explosive sound and colorful lighting of fireworks had pulled him out of his blasphemous thoughts. 

He understood Dutch was ordering him something about following one of the Mayor's domestic, and gladly obliged, relieved to have another thing to focus on. Something about Cornwall sending an important letter to Lemieux, which he had to steal. Nothing difficult, he had done those sorts of things countless times. 

Nothing new. 

Nothing puzzling, like you had been.

As he followed the man, eyes locked on his white suit from afar, he quickly took a glance at the patio to see if you were still there. You weren't. His dick ached as he let out a deep exhale. Damn it.

Arthur rapidly found himself inside the Mayor's house. His servant had entered what looked like an office. He waited a few seconds after the room had felt silent, behind the corner of the walls, just to be sure, and entered it.

The room was indeed an office, a little desk with an armchair on his left, bookcases covering every wall, simply illuminated by a flickering orange lamp. Everything looked normal, except for the dark figure of a person in the middle of the place.

You.

He recognized your sensual dress immediately and witnessed you shoving some papers in what looked like a leathered little pocket held around your right thigh by leathered straps, just like a holster would be. His mind raced, a million reflections flying under his eyes. 

You were some sort of professional thief. And he didn’t have to be a genius to understand you had just taken the precise thing he was there for.

"That's why you were here, lil' rose?!" He asked you almost in disbelief, closing the door behind him.

You looked at him with a bold grin, looking almost amused by the situation. He, on the other hand, felt nothing but amusement. Anger, to have been fooled so easily, and that you had got ahead of him, losing the quiet game that had been played out between you. Envy, as you were now possessing two things he wanted to take away from you. Arousal, as his eyes were glued to the thigh that was now visible to his greedy eyes as you had pulled up your dress to put the sheets in your hidden pocket. Need, as his member felt hard again just by the sight of you doing it.

"Yeah, and you can only dream for me to give them to you if those papers were your target too, Arthur."

Damn, that teasing, cheeky mouth of yours. His fantasies came back in full force, and his gaze darkened. As temptatious as you were, he needed those documents. And he would do anything he had to to have them back.

"Give ‘em to me." He lowly ordered you, voice so severe you could have melted right into the carpeted floor of this damn office. But you didn't.

"Hell no."

"Give ‘em t’me, woman. I won't ask nicely a third time."

"If you want them, you'll have to catch me, pretty boy."

Lord, why was everyone so prompt to call him this way lately? He almost grunted at the way you had said it, and he would have lied if this time he didn't like it when it fell from your lips. He wanted to reply with something witty and even more threatening, but in a flash, you had opened the window, and easily jumped outside.

This Goddamn woman. What was she exactly? Some sort of feline? Yeah, probably a panther, agile, impressive, dangerous like one.

He instantly ran after you, jumping through the window too, landing in a loud thud. He quickly spotted your dress running away, escaping by the entry’s portal, then in the nearest street, disappearing behind St Denis's myriad of flashing lights. 

How could he had missed it? His mind was filled with images of it.

He had the common decency of grabbing back his gun from the butler at the party's entry, making him almost fall on the ground as he hadn't slowed but had grabbed them while running, the poor man wondering what the Hell made both of these people in such a hurry.

He was now flying at full speed around the luxurious streets, following the faint glimpse of your dress's color at the corner of every turn. He felt like he could follow your scent like a hunting dog, your sweet and peachy perfume confirming him you had passed there before.

He had enough, feeling his restrain and manners crackling more and more into little pieces. You were making him feel like a damn animal, reducing his whole being to primal needs and functions. He should have been disgusted with himself for that. But all he could do right now was thinking about the damn documents hidden against your damn alluring thigh.

"Stop now, you Goddamn... Evil woman!" He tried to call you out, but you just wouldn't stop. He started firing at you, getting angrier and more fed up by the second, a bullet exploding a piece of the bricked wall right next to your head, some splinters cutting slightly the top of your ear.

You bent over to dodge his bullets one more time and you heard him cursing again loudly behind you. On top of being big, strong and clever, he was fast. In a quick movement of your feet, shaking them, you removed your shoes, unable to run at your fastest speed with heels. You continued your frenzied course, way more at ease.

Arthur rushed in where you were just mere seconds after you, noticing the shoes abandoned on the floor. What the Hell was even this woman, he asked himself for the second time this evening. Some sort of temptatious, dark retelling of Cinderella?

He almost made himself laugh at the thought, understanding your move because his own polished shoes were frankly a pain to run with, making him slip with every shift as if he was walking on soap and regret his good old boots, before acknowledging he had lost your trace.

Shit!

He looked all around him, his eyes scanning every inch, his breath rapid and sharp, his forehead and neck a pool of sweat. No signs of you, unless... 

Something fell right on his face, but gently, as a caress from a fresh breeze. Your perfume filled up his nostrils and lungs and it made his heart race. He took it in his hands, the sensations pleasant under his fingerprints. 

It was your black shawl.

Tilting his head up, he found you.

You were making your way up to the roof of the town by climbing on a thin ladder.

Arthur exhaled deeply through his nose like a buffalo. He was used to this kind of high-speed chase, but this was a whole new thing, which made him regret his lasso too, his hand searching for it on his belt out of habit but closing on nothing. 

Damned party, damned suit, damned you. 

He climbed after you, refusing to give up, enraged like a wild beast. 

He would catch you, dead or alive.

In a way, this was making him even more aroused than any work-girl show he had ever seen.

"I'm going to kill ya, that's a promise!"

You could hear just how furious his voice was now, and you were starting to pray you would flee successfully from him, cause you knew he would eat you alive if he could get his hands on you.

Arriving on top of the building, you caught your breath for a microsecond, before searching for a way out, gaze frantic, heart beating out of your chest. You were considering climbing to another roof, but the deep, breathless sounds of your pursuer prevented you from doing more thinking.

Arthur had reached the top of the roof too, and was already aiming his gun at you. This time he didn't even bother to say anything, shooting at you again while getting up. He was so seething you wouldn’t have been surprised to see saliva bubbling from his mouth.

By divine intervention, you dodged again, and without any thinking, you ran all the way to the edge of the roof, and jumped.

You stayed in the air for a few seconds.

You felt like time had stopped, the air brushing against your skin, your heart hanging somewhere between the sky and the total void.

You landed on a fancy and illuminated balcony a few meters away. You hurt your feet and legs with the shock, but smiled proudly to yourself. You were out of reach, he was way bigger and way heavier than you, there was no way he coul-

A gigantic mass fell on you, as Arthur had proved you wrong and jumped from the roof you had just left and was crashing directly into you. 

Both of you fell on the ground and struggled for a few seconds; you tried to resist him but it was a fight already lost, this literal force of nature easily handling you like he wanted. 

You ended up lying on your back, Arthur sitting on you, towering over you with all his might, quickly grabbing your wrists to prevent you from fighting, his legs parted around your hips stopping you from escaping. You were trapped.

"You're a pain in the ass girl, you know that?!" He shouted at you, breathless, raging mad. You were both panting, sweating heavily. His face was entirely red, and your cheeks even more crimson.

You both looked at each other, eyes locked, and you stayed silent. The dark creature prowling under the thin floe had returned and it was getting bigger, stronger, out of control with each passing second. There was something extremely erotic in the way he was almost lying on top of you, both of you out of breath, sweaty, and burning red, both your hearts beating at full speed in the same erratic rhythm.

Just like before at the reception, you knew he could feel it too. You knew it from the dark gaze he was looking at you with, the shady swirls of the murky leviathan reflecting in the depths of his pupils, from the deepest well of his urges, forbidden territory to which no man ever had access.

A simple touch of his hand, that's all it took.

He put both of your hands into a single one of his, using his other one to pull up your dress, fingers roaming on your thigh.

You couldn't hold it anymore, you bent toward him and slammed your lips against his in the most powerful and decadent kiss you had ever shared with someone, almost biting him.

The moment you did, Arthur's mind exploded, and every poor drop of restrain he had evaporated as quickly as if it was on the Sun's surface. The beast had won, finally shattering the weak layer of ice into a million pieces; your two souls blending in what could have felt like a fevered dream.

The grunt he let out onto your kiss was animalistic, and the tension in his body just as powerful as a waterfall with a brutal, unstoppable current. The hand that was holding your wrist let go of it and slipped under your head, fingers in your hair, as his tongue licked against your lips, searching for a way in. You let him in, eagerly, wondering if he would have forced the way if you didn’t. 

He tasted strong, as if to match his whole being, a powerful flavor of tobacco, merged with a faint trace of sweetness and bitterness from the champagne he had drank. Like if you were smoking the finest and strongest of cigars. It made you love it even more.

Abandoning all your restraints too, your hands wrapped around his neck and your hips started pushing up against his, even if you couldn't move much, his two muscular thighs keeping you grounded to the balcony's paved floor. It felt so cold against your back, contrasting with the heat Arthur was burning with, consuming, devastating, raging.

He growled again when he felt your movement under him. He needed more of you, right now. This whole seduction game, the adrenaline rose by the chase, your bold charming attitude, your insanely insolent beauty, it was making him insane. He roughly ripped off his bowtie with one hand, needing some air; it felt like you two were under the desert’s scorching sun, stifling, dazing. 

The right hand he had on your thigh traveled even higher under your dress, devouring every inch of flesh it could, and his appetite was only getting worse the more he discovered you. He smoothly moved his legs from around yours to put himself between them, and you instantly, almost from instinct, hooked them around his hips.

The sudden contact of your blazing core against his equally hot bulge made you sigh in pleasure, and he loved it. Breaking your kiss for the first time since you had initiated it, he pulled back to look at you, his deep gaze devouring you, undressing you just by its stare. 

“What’s your real name?” He asked you, voice hoarser than ever, demanding it from you.

You told him your name, limbs feeling like mush under his intense eyes. He repeated it quietly, like a prayer he would recite on his own. You felt less and less like the panther you thought you were, and more and more like he was the predator alone. In a shaking tone, you questioned back to know his full, real name, needing to know what words you’d have to whisper in gratitude when he would finally take what he wanted from you. To whisper, or shout to the Heavens.

“Arthur Morgan.” He let out, his lips quickly returning to their current addiction, your skin. The way they were attacking your neck didn’t have an ounce of control now, his mouth opening widely to almost take a whole bite of your flesh there, letting kisses everywhere it could.

“Tell me if you don’t want this.” He added against your skin, between two greedy open-mouth kisses.

A way to escape. The predator stilling, letting a way out. But you didn't wanted it. Not at all. Not now that he had surrendered to you, trusting you with the intimacy of his real name, that would be stuck in your mind for God knows how long.

“I want it.” You asserted, voice almost cracking with the weight of your need.

He moaned a relieved sound in answer, his nose exhaling some air that tickled your neck.

You weren’t even sure he could stop himself if you had said no. He was consuming you, and he felt completely drunk, as if you were coated with a powerful whiskey. Strong alcohol that his tongue was now licking all the way from your shoulder, up to your ear.

You moaned, the feeling of his hungriness so good and perfect on you.

"Gonna take care of ya now." He growled in a rumbling whisper, making your legs feel weak. Another one of his promises, but this one was going to give you salvation, and you were thanking him for keeping it. 

The bold hand he had under your dress took another step towards insanity by landing on your undergarments, his thick fingers searching for a way in. You were trembling with anticipation. You couldn't even register the fact that you were really doing this, right now, with a complete stranger you had met only a few hours ago, and who wanted to kill you minutes before, on the balcony of what looked like a habited place.

The obscenity, the depravation, the boldness of it was only matched by his relentless thirst for you.

His fingers had finally pulled your underwear to the side, and you sighed seeing him on top of you, eyes drawn to your bare pussy, carnal features empathized by the obscurity of the night. The tip of his fingers traveled amongst your folds, wolves into the forest, a territory they were now claiming as theirs.

You almost begged for him, for the wolves to eat you up all and let nothing behind them, please Arthur, and he offered you this damnation, the desperate call of his name igniting another fire in his already infernal mind. A single, calloused finger pushed into your folds, making you spread your legs even more to grant it better access. It was stretching you pleasantly, his skin rough and firm inside. You started letting out sweet, quiet moans, showing him just how much you were enjoying this.

Your two hands now gripping his back, holding on for something, anything, his dark jacket suddenly feeling way too smooth to grab onto; you were wondering how touching his naked back could feel.

Arthur was doing everything in his power not to burst once more, grunting in response to your loving sound. Slowly, he pushed another one, thriving in how wet and hot your cunt felt around his fingers, craving for the moment he would finally be able to feel this downright perfection around his cock. He felt like he was ruining you, throwing you to these wolves, and you were thanking him for it.

For now, he focused on you, blue eyes glued on your face when he started curling his digits inside of you, searching for this so special, so delightful spot within your walls. He was observant, noticing every sound you were making, every muscle tensing, to know if it was the place you liked that he was brushing right now. Wanting it to be the place you liked most.

By adding his thumb on your clit and pushing a little deeper his index and middle finger in your desperate pussy, he realized he finally had found the Graill as your back arched against the ground, your own hands gripping harder on him, eyes shutting in pure pleasure.

"Oh, God! Yes, right there..." You rewarded him, voice high-pitched and filled with delight, a tingling sensation spreading on your legs and shoulders.

He exhaled deeply, your words making his own member gorging, pressing against the fabric of his suit that felt too small to contain him. He started pushing in and out, pulling a whine out of your throat with every movement, as the thick tip of his fingers rubbed against your sweet spot every time, wolves once again in a world of sweetness and honey, lapping your delight, feasting on your pleasure.

“Told ya I would make this pretty mouth behave…” He said cockily after one of your moans. He was enjoying this all too much, finally feeling in control again, being the one and only responsible for your ecstasy. 

The distance between his mouth and you seemed to be unacceptable for him as he had succumbed once more to his needs, his lips finding your skin again, tongue tasting, teasing your chest this time, everywhere he could on the cleavage he had desired since the first time he had laid eyes on you tonight. Bent over to you, looking like a curved beast feasting on its prey.

You were feeling your pleasure building, Arthur’s face hungrily searching for one of your nipples under the neckline of your dress, and sucking it once he had finally found it. His teeth and nose had pulled your dress, freeing your entire left breast, bare, defenseless in front of him. 

Maybe he was the wolf himself. He sure looked like it, his face a maw fed by your soft flesh.

Every nerve of your pussy screamed for deliverance, this familiar sensation taking form in your lower stomach. Your moans were becoming even more high-pitched, breathless, almost obscene, much to the outlaw's delight.

You had thought of him before being a terribly efficient and multi-functional weapon. You couldn’t have known just how right you had been, your hardening nipple still chewed by his mouth while his right hand was sending you to your edge, thumb skillfully circling on your clit faster and faster, the two other fingers tearing apart your sweet spot, in and out, in and out, again and again, until…

“A-Arthur, don’t stop, please!” Your voice slit the night open, tone pleading as if you were begging for your life.

“I won’t girl, it’s all okay… Give it t’me…” He encouraged you, even his breath feeling rough against the skin of your chest before he sucked hard on the skin of one of your breasts, accompanying you to your salvation.

It was enough to send you over your limit, your pussy clenching, throbbing, entirely consumed. You moaned so loudly it could have turned into a scream, hips jerking against his palm, his other hand quickly grabbing your hip to steady you and carry you through it as his fingers were dragging every last drop of your pleasure out of you. 

“Yeahhh, that’s it gorgeous, just like that…”

He was frowning, the sinful sensations of your wet cunt coating his fingers in a warm slick and tensing around them making his eyebrow and jaw just as tensed, his face just a hint of how fucking riled up he was because of it.

Your head was still spinning and your breath uneven when he finally pulled his digits out of your walls, the fresh air replacing them. Lost in your haze, you weren't capable of doing anything else but looking at him through lidded, heavy eyes.

He was absolutely beautiful, even more than at the start of the night. His true nature out at last, his white fancy shirt disheveled now that he had removed his bowtie and soaked from efforts. Cheeks and throat as red as a sanguine sunset. Pearls of sweat sparkling on his burning skin with the Ocean of street lights of St Denis, reminding you of a night sky, making his sandy hair stick to his forehead in the hottest way possible. 

You didn't knew how could all this had escalated so quickly, but at that moment, you felt like this man before you was your whole universe, his deep ultramarine eyes completing the stellar work of art he was, shining, shimmering, more than any star in the sky, as if the Gods had capture the entire Milky Way and imprisoned it in his being.

Arthur had ultimately pulled his cock out of his black suit pants, only piece of flesh out of his clothes, and your thoughts were immediately contradicted; there was no way any virtuous God could have made a man so depraved. He was the work of the Other Side, Lust and Temptation personified. King of the wolves, he could have had all the Hounds of Hell kneeling before him.

He pumped himself a few times, unable to resist the call his member had been screaming for hours, reinforced by the way his fingers had tasted your wet cavern. Some precum had already leaked from his big pinkish head when he was fingering you and was now glistening in the night, making you think about the stars again. Your breath got caught at this sight and you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a praise.

"Perfect..." You simply stated in a whisper, eyes glued to his throbbing, veiny member, relieved he had already pulled an orgasm out of you because there was no way he could have fit in you otherwise. Your eyes followed the dark path of his hair, from the glimpse you had on his chest between the open collar of his shirt, all the way down to his pelvis and at the base of his shaft. 

You could only imagine what it looked like without any clothes on, and you were dying to know.

"Trust me, you're the perfect one, darlin'." He asserted, firm tone leaving little to contradiction. 

He positioned himself in front of your entrance.

You weren't even completely back from the world your first relief had brought you to, and he was already at your door again. But this time, Arthur couldn’t stop himself.

He had given once again, just like always. Now he wanted to take. He needed to take. The starving, depraved wolf. Slowly pushing, teasing himself, making his cock’s head sink into your dripping territory, creating wet and soggy sounds, a hardened spear into honey. 

He couldn't hold back a baritone moan, the feeling was even better than what he remembered. He hadn't taken the time or allowed himself to lay with a woman in ages, and God, what a return to this primal bliss.

He slowly moved some more, his hands spreading your legs a bit wider from around his waist to allow him to penetrate you more easily. Once you had entirely enveloped him, his tip deep inside, he let out another deep throaty grunt, the feeling making it hard for him to keep his thoughts clear. 

"Ahh... Shit, darlin’... So tight…"

Considering how his length was stretching you, you bet he felt your pussy tight. The first word that came into your mind was “complete”. So complete with his huge cock inside of you; you felt like you could have died happily like this. One of your hands slipped from the top of his back to the lower part of it, just above his ass, pressing there, showing him just how much you wanted him to move, to let go. 

Arthur didn't need much more as he pulled back slowly only to snap his hips back against yours, his cock pushing again all the way through your cunt in one hard single time, giving you another wave of pleasure as you both moaned together, unable to resist the intense sensation he was creating for both of you.

Hearing you whine, finally feeling your perfectly tight and warm pussy around him, it was making him lose all sense of restraint, and as your other hand ran through his hair, your angelic voice whispering his name as if he was your Lord and savior, he lost it. 

He started to pull in and out of you faster, harder, your bodies colliding in a delicious way, obscene noises echoing through the silence of the darkness. His increase in pace made your body scream in pleasure and you buried your face into the crook of his neck under the collar of his shirt, biting his skin there.

It made him grunt loudly, and one of his hands roamed from your hips to your rear, grabbing a fistful of your ass in an instinctive response. His other hand was on the ground next to you, keeping him from crushing you against it. It made your head blank with pleasure.

"Shit, Arthur! M-more!" You begged, feeling like you could die if he stopped, your voice turning into high squeals.

"Anhh- God... More? Don’t worry girl, I'll g-give you more...-Mmh!" 

His voice was heavy with pleasure, words cut off by moans and grunts you were delighted to hear, the most unholy and arousing music you had ever had the honor to listen to.

True to his words, he obliged, hips thrusting endlessly, member empaling you with each move. You could feel the flesh of his pelvis against yours with how deep he dived into you, and around it the stiffness of his suit, rubbing again the breast he had pulled out of your dress before, nipple sensitive after his previous treatment. 

If what was between you was once a frozen lake, it had now turned into an Ocean of lava, magma exploding, engulfing both of you in the most burning and devastating passion you'd ever experienced, a volcanic explosion of desires.

The hand he had on your asscheek reluctantly let go of it, but you ended up thanking him for it, cause he was now using it to put your left leg above his shoulder, grabbing under your knee, allowing him to fuck you in an even better angle than before. He was ruining you once again, but this time felt like the pack of starving enraged wolves had taken him with you to consume him entirely.

You leaned against the floor, back of your head feeling the paved coldness, only hint that everything was actually real. Arthur's eyes locked with yours as he kept on fucking you hard and fast, this intimate contact making his member twitch.

You felt so goddamn good around him, and looked so goddamn gorgeous like this, your cheeky grin long gone, replaced by a delightful frown of pleasure, mouth open in a quiet scream. Arthur felt his peak coming dangerously close, but his pace hadn't slowed, his fat cock thrusting in and out of you. In and out, like a furious, sacred metronome. In an out, like a blessed psalm you'd both be reciting together.

“Come on girl, I know you have another, -Damn it!-, another one in ya. Give it to me, come on, jus’ for me…”

Words and voice drowned in a flood of pleasure and curses, of deep grunts and growls, his possessiveness sending you over the edge once again, your inside closing its trap around him, squeezing just how he needed to.

His eyes shut close, eyebrows furrowing in utter pleasure as he sank so hard and deeply you could have felt him splitting your guts in half, his dick throbbing and harder than ever. It reached a spot so deep and good inside of you, burning it, your pleasure bursting as you felt your orgasm coming for the second time.

"A-Arthur!" You cried out as you came around him, creaming him, walls clenching in a delicious sensation that made him reach the stars.

"God, damn it!" He shouted, voice deeper and rougher on the curse word before quickly removing himself from you in a flash of lucidity, finishing messily, cum spilling from his red sensitive member in white spurts that ended up right on your belly as a feral, powerful growl escaped his chest and his head tilted backward, letting you see his throat covered in sweat and veins.

For a moment, both of you had turned into beasts, shattered all the limits, broke all the shackles, diminishing you into your more primitive instincts. The Wolves of Lust had devoured your being into the very last delicious bone.

And that’s how you felt. Boneless.

Now, stillness. A cold breeze enveloped the pair of you, the only sounds now being the distant agitation of the city and your pantless breaths. He slowly brought his chin back down and opened his eyes, mesmerized by the sight of you returning from the realm of pure pleasure he had provided for you for the second time.

He felt powerful. He felt good. Better than he had for months, finally satisfied. Like a God, a King. King of all the Wolves, Cerberus, the only guardian of your unholy realm.

He wanted to do this again with you, as soon as possible.

He carefully put his softening dick back in its clothed cage, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his pants as he felt completely spent, his hands shaking slightly. He wanted to help you get cleaned up, but you had already brushed what you could of his release off your dress. 

It would probably leave stains on your clothing nevertheless. 

A twisted, dark part of him, the part that came from the same pit as the dark creature and the Wolves, felt almost aroused and proud at the thought you would keep an imprint of him on it. This part was relishing noticing the big ruby mark it had left on your breast as you were putting it back under your neckline; he grinned to himself knowing it would make your memories of him more difficult to forget. 

He didn't want you to forget.

He slowly got up, offering you his hand to help you stand. You quickly put back your dress in its usual state, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. A silence settled between you two, thousands of questions floating in the air, but none of you ready to ask them out loud yet.

Finally, as you started shivering, only realizing now how cold this night was without Arthur's burning hot body on top of you, he spoke, voice even hoarser from having pushed on it too much, accent making every world sound heavy when they fell from his mouth.

"When can I see you again?" More than a demand, a promise. An order even. Cerberus needs his territory.

You already knew he kept them; his promises. Except for the one he had made to kill you. But in a way, he did, because you felt like you wouldn’t be able to ever feel so alive again without him. 

Like a condemnation.

"You won't." 

Certainty in your voice. But he didn't mind it. He had already broken you before.

"Oh, but I think I will, darlin'." Was all he said before stepping over the fence of the balcony, ready to jump off it. Before doing it, he pulled something out of his jacket and waved it at you.

The fucking papers.

A lightning of understanding and panic struck you; what you had thought was a lustful touch on your thigh, the one that had set everything on fire between the both of you, that had unleashed the Wolves, was in reality his sneaky hand retrieving the document from your hidden pocket.

Shit!

He gave you his cocky grin, blue gaze sparkling with mischief, greeting you with a two finger’s salute then jumped, disappearing in the night, away from you once again. You could have gone after him, as much as your weak and spent body would have allowed you to, but somehow, after all that he had done to you tonight, you felt like he had well deserved those damned letters.

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries credits: Arthur's pic is not mine, belongs to fv8tt on Pinterest. Dividers and little moths doodle by me.

I reall hope you liked this one! I'm thinking about writing another part where the reader could confront Arthur again... Tell me if you'd like that! -Pine 🌱

[chocostrwberry]

Sentimaggedon!!

Sentimonster designs I came up with bc I was thinking about Argos’s debut in my AU! Bc I’m dumb and I haven’t thought too deep about him as a character to the story yet-

They were originally suppose to all be based on the seven deadly sins, especially Gasumptious (gluttony) and Elvy (envy). But I also wanted to branch into maybe Felix’s other hidden emotions, like his deep love for Kagami and his fear of being replaced by Adrien (Bride and Athazagora).

Argos becomes an official enemy when Dragonbug tells him they need to be destroyed. He defends them, saying they’re just “infants” and can learn how to behave properly with time. But a frustrated and exhausted Dragonbug she tells him they aren’t like humans and are created for one purpose: to serve and destroy. This hits home with Argos, and he develops a fear and hatred for Ladybug and swears his loyalty to Madame Morphisa afterwards in order to take her down and prove just how monstrous he can be.

I’m still kinda trying to find a way to make this concept work in my au. He promised to serve her in exchange for the peacock miraculous, and she wants him to use it to take Ladybug’s miraculous. In a novice attempt, he might have just starting creating multiple sentimonsters that he thought were harmless enough (something she did NOT expect), but they quickly spiraled out of control. It’s much easier to make sentimonsters based on others emotions, because you can predict which one you will create it off of. But instead, he chose his own, which makes it more difficult to tell how the sentimonster will act. I think it would show the aspect that these creatures do have a mind of their own, compared to previous Mayura sentimonsters who were easily controlled by their akumas!!

Red Moon

Red Moon is obviously already canon, but her power is instead hypnosis. If you get caught in her light, you stop whatever you are doing to stare at her. The streets of Paris become like a statue exhibit: countless of unlucky citizens are bathing in her glow, staring at the beauty of the red moon.

Gasumptious

As he devours, Gasumptious grows bigger and bigger. He’ll eat anything, so beware! After finishing most of the city, Gasumptious sits atop the Eiffel Tower and gnaws on its metal posts.

Elvy

Elvy lives in the sewers. She can control water and uses it to drain you of happy memories, which she keeps in floating green orbs and guards for herself.

It’s so silly to me how the manifestation of Felix’s jealousy of Adrien is fought and defeated by Chat Noir, who is Adrien ehehehheeh.

She also sounds like a Pokémon!! Probably like a Lapras, or the one that trills really pretty

Athazagora

A timid creature, Athazagora took over the catacombs, and hides in the shadows. You can hear the creaking and rattling of its wooden limbs in the dark as it stalk you. If you can’t escape, it envelops you in its cloak of darkness, never to be seen again.

Bride

The supposed advisor of Argos. She never leaves his side, and is always whispering something in his ear. To protect Argos, she showcases her ability to turn her arm into a long spear/sword, incredible strength and mobility, and that her body is made of an indestructible crystal.

Plus, he can make multiple sentimonsters bc he’s a sentihuman himself (Other people can’t. You can only make one, kind of like how the Butterfly miraculous can only Akumatize one person at a time, unless they share an object. Current excuse I’m going with that makes semi-sense HEHEHE) . So Lila totally wants to use that to her own advantage!

Ofc he fails, but she’s impressed with his resolve (and the lengths he was willing to go, albeit unintentionally), especially after sharing her goal of destroying Ladybug. Lila was feeling the effects of unification and now has a willing minion to do her bidding whenever she pleases.

If I decide to go with this plot, Lila has to end up forgetting Felix because of the curse. But she doesn’t care: all she really needs is Argos. I might need to retcon her revenge against Felix because of this but idm! It wasn’t very important to the plot anyways!

I was considering having Dragonbug in this episode, since she could use Perfection to snipe Red Moon out of the sky! The lucky charm would be like a wand that creates a sticky translucent web to keep the sentimonsters secure so they can go find their amoks.

And a sentimonster I never ended up including, Ava. I just didn’t have a reason to put her in there but I liked the yin and yang style of her design!!

[messylustt]

hii since u said you’d do something for stilinski can i request a fic where the alpha twins were just introduced and stiles and reader (best friends) like each other (everyone in the pack knows but them) and reader thinks stiles doesn’t like her so they start hanging out with the twins more and stiles gets jealous and it’s like a angry love confession and maybe smut?

++ thank u so much for taking the time to read & write this!! your writing is actually making me happy as sappy as that sounds💗💗

you’re my friend, not theirs — stiles stilinski + reader ( teen wolf ) : stiles getting jealous over the blooming friendship between you and the twins.

contents : jealous!stiles. kissing. sorry no actual p in v. i need to watch teen wolf again — that shit was gooood, and thank you so much ur actually so sweettt

"I want one." Lydia said, eyes focused behind you and Allison.

You both turn in your chairs to see the two new twins talking by a bookshelf. "Which one?" Allison asked, turning back. You kept your gaze on the twins, mainly for the fact that they were said—by your strange friend group—to be alphas.

Why they chose to go to school you could only guess. Most likely not to actually enjoy classes, but to keep an eye on said strange friend group.

"The straight one." You answered for Lydia. "I'd hope." You turn back in your chair to see Lydia narrowing her eyes.

You smile, just as Stiles slumps in the free chair beside you. Scott taking one beside Lydia. You glance back around at the twins, tilting your head in a slight observation.

Then you feel a poke on your arm. You turn your head to face Stiles, who is eyeing you with furrowed brows. "What are you looking at?"

"Our new classmates." You say, gazing back.

"You know they're alphas, right?" Stiles asks, making you nod. "Like, deadly...scary alphas?" He re-asks narrowing his eyes, as you chuckle.

"I heard they can shift into...like...one big werewolf." You say, in slight awe.

Stiles scoffs. "It's not that impressive."

"It kind of is." You mutter. Then you hear your seat scraping against the floor as Stiles jolts you around to face away from the twins.

"Do you know the distinction between friends and enemies?" Stiles asks, making you scoff. "Scott, did you know that y/n's rather stupid?" He asks Scott, making you elbow his arm.

"Yeah. She thinks the twins are cool." He continues, as you try to shut him up with your hand.

"I'm not the only one." You say defensively, before gesturing to Lydia, who is still eyeing up the straight twin.

"Well that's...Lydia." Stiles grabs your wrist, removing your hand from his mouth.

"Wow, your reasoning is impeccable, Stiles."

Stiles tilts his head at your sarcasm, the edges of his lips curving up a fraction. You get your wrist out of his grip before looking at Lydia—Allison and Scott caught up in conversation. "It's called having taste, Stiles."

Stiles raises his brows. "Taste?" He nearly exclaims. "Did you get hit in the head?"

"Alright...I'm gonna head to science." You say, ignoring stiles, standing, as the others spare you 'goodbyes'.

Stiles calls to your leaving form. "You have zero taste, y/n. Nada!"

You chuckle as you walk out into the hall. Stiles has been your best friend for almost forever. You enjoyed his jokes and even his incessant sarcasm. But you hated the fact that whenever he smiled butterflies would swarm your stomach. Whenever he would look at you a certain way your cheeks would pinken.

You had to brush it all way, knowing he wouldn't feel the same. And ruining such a long friendship would be horrible. Your mind is caught as you nearly collide with someone.

"Shit— sorry." You say looking up, holding a tighter grip on your notes.

One of the alpha twins stares back at you, a small smirk edging his lips. You quickly take in his appearance and the way he holds himself. "And I'd take it your the...straight one?"

He chuckles before beginning to nod. "Aiden." He introduces.

You nod. "Nice to meet you."

He raises his brows awaiting your own introduction. You go to speak, opening your mouth, but pause, seeming to remember exactly who Aiden is. "Will I be in danger if you know my name?" You whisper ask.

Aiden leans down to whisper back. "You might be safe."

"I might?" You ask, raising your brows.

Aiden smirks. "A pretty face usually makes it far."

Your mouth partly opens in slight shock. "Ha. So, you are a flirt." You straighten up. "Lydia's gonna love you."

"Mm, and what about you?" He asks, brushing a strand of hair away from your shoulder.

You chuckle. "Again—Lydia's gonna love you." You then step around him, walking into your class.

Stiles had seen one of the alpha twins follow you out. And of course, with a narrowed gaze—he followed him. He stopped upon seeing the twin speaking to you. Stiles' grip on the doorway was tight as he watched. A scowl formed as he saw the twin brush your hair over your shoulder, you chuckling about something.

What the hell were you talking about?—Stiles wondered, wishing he had scott's hearing. His stomach had tightened the moment he saw you with him. Hating seeing you smile at the enemy. But it wasn't just for the sake that it was the twin you were talking to. Stiles would feel like it no matter what dude it was. He wanted you to smile at him like that. Not someone else.

When you passed the twin for your class Stiles saw the way he eyed your form before leaving for his own class. Stiles scoffed to himself, glaring holes into the back of the alpha's head. No way was that beast getting you.

A few days had passed and through the halls you had caught yourself talking to the twins. It started off brief, just passing nods and a few hello's. But then you started picking up conversations where you'd left off the next time you'd pass eachother.

Stiles saw as you would wave at them or smile, them cracking a joke or a compliment. On the occasion that he would walk with you, Stiles' expression couldn't be more gloomy. You'd bump his shoulder making a comment on the "glare" he'd mastered, but Stiles' couldn't laugh, only hearing Aiden's compliments on your outfit or hair.

At first he didn't want to acknowledge that he was jealous. Because then he'd have to remember his large crush on you. He had had to push it away, knowing you wouldn't feel the same. You were freinds, and Stiles hid behind that concept, forcing himself to reason his glares to him just being a good friend, not wanting you to date someone like Aiden.

But once the days drew out, you and the twins seeming to grow closer, Stiles finally accepted his jealousy. You were his friend not there's. So, when he saw you smile and blush at a compliment Aiden gave you, he couldn't help himself but grab your wrist and pull you somewhere secluded.

You swiftly turned to face Stiles as you stared at him in confusion. You both are in the boys locker room, it being empty—the laccrosse team not practicing today. "What the hell-"

"What the hell is that?" Stiles cuts you off angrily. You stare at him, brows furrowing.

"What?"

"That." Stiles gestured to the now closed door. "Them. The twins."

"Aiden and Ethan?" You ask.

Stiles scoffs at the first name basis. "Yeah, Aiden and Ethan."

"What about them?" You slowly ask, never really having seen Stiles so mad.

Stiles clenches his jaw, all the past days annoyance bubbling up. "What about them? Really, y/n?"

Your still displaying confusion, as Stiles steps closer. "Why the fuck are you talking to them?"

"You're mad at me becasue I've said hi?"

"Oh, you've said more than hi." Stiles scoffs. "You keep talking with them in the halls as if your the closest of friends."

"Look Stiles, I know you don't like them. And I know they aren't particually saints. But if you spoke to them you'd realise how not in control they are. Deucalion—"

"I don't care for their sobstory, y/n. And you shouldn't either. You barely know them." Stiles has progressively gotten closer, before he's backing away, running his hands through his hair in annoyance. "God." He mutters.

"Stiles." You say, making him meet your gaze. "What is this?" Your tone has stayed calm, not wanting to start an arguement with Stiles of all people. "Are you okay?"

"No, y/n. I'm not." He finally says, fully stepping closer. You slightly stumble back at how swift his movement was. "Why do you want to talk to them?"

"Stiles, they...they're nice. They make me feel good, strangely enough."

"They make you feel good?" Stiles asks, eyeing you.

"They make me laugh. They are quite funny." You mutter, seeing how close Stiles is getting.

"Oh." Stiles chuckles, though the humour is lost. "Aren't they just amazing. Making you laugh and smile. You even blush around Aiden."

Your cheeks begin to redden on embarrassment as you cough. "No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do. And it's really annoying." Stiles says. "You know what else is annoying?" You meet his gaze, pressing your lips together. "The fact that you're blushing for him right now."

You scoff. "I'm not."

You can feel Stiles' breath hit your face. "I really hope that's true."

"Stiles, why are you so angry about this?"

And he cracks. "Because I don't want you to like some rabid wolf, I want you to like me!"

Stiles freezes, processing what he just revealed. Fuck. You stare at him, mouth beginning to open.

"What..." You drift off, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

"I-" Stiles begins, stepping back, shocked and incredibly nervous at his own words. "I didn't-"

"You...like me?" You slowly ask.

Stiles goes to shake his head for fear of your rejection, but then he thinks of Aiden, and switches to a small nod.

Now your shocked, confirmation that his first confession wasn't a slip up. Silence has engulfed the locker room and Stiles can't bear it. "Say something...please."

"I didn't know...you liked me like that." You mutter, your life long crush's words having taken a toll on you.

He couldn't let you date Aiden and now you knew why. But your moments of silence were crushing his heart. He began to step farther away, thinking he just ruined your friendship, when you quickly grabbed his cheeks, and kissed him.

Stiles eyes widened, before they became hooded, the feel of your soft lips making his stomach do somersaults. But then your pulling away far too soon, eyes wide, your own shock at what you just did easily visible.

But Stiles doesn't waste another moment, smashing his lips back to yours. You slightly stumbled back at the force as Stiles began to lick and eat at your lips. He groaned into your mouth when he was able to finally push himself against you, your back hitting a locker.

"Oh, god." Stiles muttered against your lips. "This means you like me back...right?" He asks as he began to kiss your cheek and jaw, leading all the way to your neck, as his hand slipt around your waist.

"No, Stiles." You sarcastically say, making him chuckle against your skin. You grab his face, bringing him back to your face. "Kissing you doesn't mean I like you." You kiss him, your tongues eagerly meeting.

"I'm glad you've picked up my sacrasm." He says, continusously kissing you. "Otherwise that would hurt."

You smile into the kiss, your head buzzing with this reality. You had begun to unbutton his jeans, making his breath hitch, but he quickly grabs your hand, making you meet his gaze in question. "I didn't like hearing that the twins make you feel good." Stiles says, putting your hands over his shoulders, as he lead one of his hands back down.

He unbuttoned your jeans, slipping his hand inside making you grip his shirt. "I want to make you feel good." Stiles kisses you, as he reaches your panties, pushing them aside as he finds your wetness. You jolt when his fingers find your clit. "Much better than them." He whispered as he began to rub your pussy, circling around.

"Christ." You whispered into his neck, before your head hit back against the locker.

Stiles trailed one finger to your hole, pushing inside, making you whimper. "At first I was hurt, because you were my friend not theirs." Stiles said as he pushed another finger inside you making your hips stutter. "But now that doesn't matter, because you can be their freind all you like." Stiles littered kisses along you collerbone and neck. "As long as I can kiss and touch you like this." He grinned against your skin as you moaned, his pace quickening.

"Oh, god— please." You breathe, finding your hand in his hair. You kiss him, letting your lips bruise as he laps at your tongue. Stiles then kisses your cheeks. "You look so cute when you blush."

Your cheeks had heated due to the actions given by Stiles. "I thought you got annoyed when I b-blushed."

Stiles chuckles, curling his fingers inside you. You pant, sweat forming across your forehead. "That's only because you were blushing for Aiden. But now your blushing for me." Stiles smiles. “All for me."

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms

[steddietogo]

Eddie can’t sleep with all the snoring. He should’ve taken Steve’s guest room when he had the chance but Eddie apparently is an affectionate drunk. He didn’t protest when Steve and Robin lead him to Steve’s bedroom and the three had just collapsed onto the bed together.

Now Steve is snoring like a fucking chainsaw. How can he be expected to sleep in these conditions? Hey, at least Eddie’s found one thing he finds undesirable in Steve. It was beginning to be too much— the constant barrage of butterflies in his stomach whenever Steve did completely normal, swoon worthy things. But Steve snoring like a faulty boat motor? No butterflies. Problem solved.

But Eddie’s still mad that he can’t sleep. He flops around angrily to glare at Steve’s slumbering form and— the dude is on his back, wide awake and blinking up at the ceiling. Now Steve’s back to being stupid perfect and that just makes Eddie more mad.

“What the fuck,” he whisper-shouts in the dark. Steve, fucking glowing in the eerie blue-tinted light spilling in through the window, just turns to him and shrugs.

Eddie props himself up on his elbows and peers over him at Robin— who is twisted up in a blanket, dead to the world and making enough noise to scare away a wild demogorgan probably.

“Does this happen often?” He asks Steve.

“Only when she’s drunk, and you don’t need to whisper, no way you can wake her up now,”

“Oh,” Eddie flops back down on his stomach making a mournful noise. “Goodbye sleep, you will be missed,” Steve turns to Eddie, curling up onto his side until his face was so close to Eddie’s that their noses almost touch.

“I can think of other ways to pass time,” Steve practically purrs. Eddie barely hears him past the blood roaring in his ears.

“L-like what?” He tries and fails to keep his own voice steady. If Steve making eyes at him from a distance are dangerous then those eyes in this proximity are deadly. Eddie discreetly pinches himself to keep him from doing something stupid. Like closing the gap between their lips.

“Like—” Steve pulls himself up and, holyfuckingshit, plants a knee on either side of Eddie’s hips. Eddie doesn’t have an exact number for the times his dream had started exactly like this. Steve on his hands and knees, hovering over Eddie.

This is happening. Is this happening? With Robin right there beside them? Actually Eddie doesn’t care about that part but is it happening?

Then Steve moves again, gets off Eddie and slides off the bed like he didn’t nearly just send the man into cardiac arrest. “We could go watch a movie?” The fucker smirks at him like he knows exactly what he just did to Eddie. Get it together, Munson.

Eddie ends up following Steve downstairs like a love sick puppy anyways. Even lets him pick a cheesy musical to watch. When Eddie finally starts to drift off to slumberland, he feels a strong pair of arms pulling him into a warm chest. And the last thing Eddie thinks of before fully succumbing to sleep is that maybe he might have a chance with Steve after all.

[crookedteethed]

ᡣ𐭩 the good girl . • ° 　 .　 *　:.　the proposition and the firecracker (3)

synopsis -- Rafe Cameron manipulates both his secretary and her fiancé Pope with a tempting business offer: a month in Morocco and a six-figure bonus that could change their lives—or destroy them.

warnings -- 18+- mdni, cursing, angst, rafe being rafe *sigh*, sexual advances, manipulation

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | word count: 4k

The following morning arrived with a weight of dread you couldn't shake. Your hands trembled slightly as you arranged your desk supplies, trying to ignore the ghost of Rafe's kiss that still burned on your lips. The office felt different now – every shadow held a memory of Rafe's darkness, every corner echoed with unspoken threats.

Then his shadow fell across your desk, and your heart stopped. Rafe loomed over you, his cerulean eyes gleaming with something that looked too much like triumph.

He'd dressed carefully today – crisp navy suit that matched his office walls, the ones he'd chosen because you'd once mentioned liking the color on him. Every detail calculated, every move choreographed.

"You're coming with me to fix the properties in Morocco," he announced, his voice soft but leaving no room for discussion. "I don't want to hear a no."

Before you could process the implications – before you could think about Pope, about the words Rafe had whispered to you at Roots, about that forbidden kiss that still burned on your lips, about all the professional lines you'd already crossed – Rafe turned on his heel and strode into his office.

The command in his posture was clear: follow.

And like a moth drawn to deadly flame, you did.

Your heels clicked against the floor as you trailed behind him, each step feeling like another thread in his web. He settled into his desk chair with the satisfaction of a predator who knew its prey would come when called.

The door clicked shut behind you with a finality that felt like fate.

"But Sir--"

"I thought I told you to call me Rafe?" His voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade.

"But Rafe--"

"Good girl." The praise rolled off his tongue like honey laced with poison, sending forbidden butterflies dancing through your stomach.

You watch as Rafe rises from his desk, coming straight towards you with that condescending stare that makes your stomach flip. Each deliberate step closes the distance between you, until there's nowhere left to retreat.

"Rafe, I--you're going to be in Morocco for the entire month of July." Your voice sounds small even to your own ears.

"Yes?" His cerulean eyes track your every movement, predatory and patient, as he effectively traps you between his imposing frame and the solid wood of his desk. The single word carries the weight of both question and threat.

"I can't do that, sir--Rafe," you stumbled over the name, watching his jaw clench at your slip.

"Well, why not?" The question dripped with dangerous calm.

"It's my engagement," you burst out, words tumbling faster as his expression darkened. "The $2,000 bonus I was given was just enough to afford rings--we're eloping in July!" The happiness in your voice felt suddenly wrong, like bringing a match to gasoline.

Rafe's face transformed as your words sank in. The bonus he'd authorized – his attempt at marking you with money – had instead funded Pope Hayward's claim on you. The irony of it twisted his features into something terrible.

His fist clenched at his side, knuckles bleaching white with barely contained rage.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. You watched as Rafe's knuckles whitened, as that muscle in his jaw worked overtime.

This wasn't just anger – this was something far more dangerous.

"We plan on just going down to the courthouse," you whisper, each word making Rafe's expression darken further. "The date's already set, and everyone's already RSVP'd--" Your voice trails off as Rafe's expression suddenly transforms into something that makes your blood run cold – a smile that's all teeth and no warmth, sharp and cruel and mocking.

In a moment of misguided politeness that you regret instantly, you stammer: "Of course, you're invited, sir--Rafe." The correction of his title feels like another mistake, another piece of ammunition you've just handed him.

The invitation itself hits Rafe like a physical blow.

His cerulean eyes flash with something dangerous as his mind processes the image: sitting in that courthouse, watching as some judge hands his girl over to Pope fucking Hayward.

The thought alone makes his vision blur red at the edges. A Cameron doesn't sit quietly and watch what belongs to them be claimed by someone else – especially not by a Pogue playing at success.

The way he's looking at you now makes your blood run cold.

But, a courthouse wedding...

How perfectly Pogue of Pope Hayward, Rafe thinks.

His cerulean eyes glitter with something dangerous as he processes this new information. No church, no reception, no grand celebration – just a simple ceremony for what belongs to him. The thought seems to offend him on a molecular level.

"But what about your job?" Rafe's voice softened to that dangerous velvet tone he used when he wanted something. "What about me?" he whispered, the words slipping out before he could catch them, betraying more vulnerability than he'd intended.

His smile flickered, a perfect performance of hurt that made your heart ache despite your better judgment.

"Do you realize how much of a bonus we can get from doing this deal in Morocco?" The question hung in the air between you, equal parts promise and threat, as his cerulean eyes searched your face for any sign of wavering.

He stepped closer, close enough that you could smell his expensive cologne mixing with Rafe's last night's lingering sins.

His cerulean eyes held yours, swimming with what looked like genuine pain – but with Rafe Cameron, what was genuine and what was tactical often blurred into the same dangerous thing.

"All that stuff I said in the bathroom at Roots?" His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, raw with something that sounded like truth. "About you being the only one who sees me? That wasn't the vodka talking." His fingers found your wrist, not gripping, just resting there like a promise – or a threat. "You're the only person who's ever looked at me and seen past the Cameron name, past all the money and the mess, and seen me. You're my best secretary yet."

The words hang between you, heavy with implication. His touch burns against your skin, and you can't tell if this is masterful performance or if you're witnessing one of those rare, unguarded moments when Rafe Cameron lets his masks slip.

The most dangerous part isn't the uncertainty – it's how easily you find yourself being drawn back into his gravity, like a planet that knows its sun might burn it to ash but can't help orbiting anyway.

A heavy silence fills the space between you, stretching like taffy as you stare down at his hands now gripping your waist. Rafe's cerulean eyes never leave your face, drinking in every micro-expression, every subtle reaction.

His fingers flex slightly against the fabric of your blouse, memorizing the feeling of having you this close, of finally holding what he considers his.

The possessive triumph in his eyes makes your breath catch – this isn't just about Morocco anymore. This is about ownership.

"But Mr. Cameron, Sir, this is my Wedding," your voice cracked on the word, desperation seeping through as you pull away from his inappropriate grip on your waist, trying to create distance between your bodies. The movement feels like trying to escape quicksand – the more you struggle, the deeper you sink.

"My fiancé and I have been waiting long enough as it is to get married--" You start, and Rafe's cerulean eyes darken at your careful avoidance of Pope's name. He notices it, savors it – how you can't bring yourself to say "Pope" in his presence, as if speaking his rival's name might shatter whatever dangerous thing hangs between you.

As if some part of you knows exactly what saying that name would do to Rafe's carefully maintained control.

"And what's wrong with waiting another month?" Rafe's voice drops to that same dangerous velvet tone, the one that makes promises and threats in equal measure. He moves closer, again, until you're trapped between his desk and his body, the heat of him making it hard to think straight.

His presence surrounds you like a cage made of expensive cologne and dark intentions, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize he's positioned himself deliberately – ensuring you have nowhere to run.

"One month with me in Morocco," he continues, each word carefully chosen like a weapon. "The bonus alone could buy you a real wedding, the kind of wedding a girl like you deserves not some courthouse ceremony." His fingers brush your arm, feather-light but burning. "Unless, of course, there's a reason you're rushing to tie yourself to Pope Hayward before you have time to… reconsider your options."

The implication hangs heavy in the air between you.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" you challenge, pushing back against his desk to create space between you again, trying to ignore how even that small contact sends electricity through your body.

"What does what mean?" Rafe's feigned innocence doesn't match the dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Please don't play dumb, Mr. Cameron. 'Reconsider my options'?" Your voice gains strength with indignation, spine straightening as you finally push back. "If you're implying something's wrong with my relationship, you're deeply mistaken."

Rafe's eyebrow arches with dangerous interest, his cerulean eyes gleaming at your defensive tone. Trouble in paradise? he thinks, noting how quickly you jumped to defend a supposedly perfect relationship. Like a shark scenting blood in the water, he catalogs your reaction for future use – another crack in the facade he can exploit.

Rafe's response is a low, boyish chuckle that shouldn't affect you the way it does – shouldn't make your breath hitch or your cunt to clench. The worst part is, he seems to know exactly what that laugh does to you, his cerulean eyes darkening with satisfaction at your visible response.

"All I'm suggesting," he purrs, leaning closer despite your attempts to maintain distance, "is that a month in Morocco might give you some… clarity. About what you really want in life.--"

About who you really want in life, Rafe thinks.

His eyes rake over you appraisingly. "How old are you, if you don't mind me asking? I know you're young. Young girls like you shouldn't be rushing into marriage when there's a whole world to explore."

The condescension in his tone ignites something fierce in you. Nice save, Rafe, but not good enough.

"And perhaps," you counter, voice sharp with newfound courage, "I could say the same to you, Mr. Cameron. I suppose living under your father's ownership isn't something a man your age should be doing either, maybe you should follow your own advice about exploration and independence." You shrug, the gesture deliberately casual, but your words strike with surgical precision. It's a direct hit to his deepest insecurity, and you both know it – the way his jaw clenches and his cerulean eyes darken tells you exactly how deep that barb has landed.

Without waiting for a response, you storm out of his office, letting your anger carry you past the weight of his stare.

But even as you retreat, his words follow you like a shadow: One month with Rafe in Morocco. One month that could change everything – or destroy it all. The smart thing would be to say no, to run straight to Pope and never look back.

Yet as you sink into your desk chair, suddenly, the phantom weight of an engagement ring you can't even afford feels heavy on your finger. Despite your anger at his manipulation, despite your better judgment screaming warnings, you find yourself wondering what kind of clarity Rafe Cameron could offer under the Moroccan sun.

And fuck, if you're being honest with yourself, that extra Morocco bonus could solve a lot of problems. The kind of problems that Pope's courthouse wedding and earnest but empty promises can't fix. The thought sits in your stomach like lead – equal parts guilt and temptation, wrapped in the dangerous possibility of what saying yes to Rafe Cameron might mean.

As you sank deeper into your desk chair, a chilling thought suddenly struck you. How did Rafe know about your engagement to Pope Hayward? You'd never mentioned it to him, had been deliberately careful to keep your personal life separate from work.

The realization that he'd somehow known all along made your skin crawl, adding another layer to the growing mystery of exactly how much Rafe Cameron watched you when you weren't looking.

A firecracker you were. That's what kept repeating in Rafe's mind, smiling to himself, as he slouched in his leather desk chair, trying to regain his composure.

The slap you given him yesterday still burned on his cheek. Today's verbal assault stung even deeper. No one talked to Rafe Cameron like that – no one except you.

And fuck, if that didn't make him want you more.

No wonder Pope wanted to marry you. The thought made his blood boil, but he had to admit – that fire, that spine of steel beneath your professional exterior… it was intoxicating. You weren't just another pretty secretary. You were a force of nature trapped in business casual.

For ten minutes after your explosive exit, Rafe sat there, fighting both his rage and his boner. The way you'd thrown his daddy issues back in his face, matching his cruelty with your own – no one else had ever dared. Not his father's yes-men, not his business partners, not even Ward himself. Just you, his perfect, infuriating secretary who thought she belonged to Pope Hayward.

His body's reaction to your defiance was embarrassingly obvious, but then again, nothing about his obsession with you had ever been subtle. Every rejection, every sharp word, every flash of that fierce independence just made him more determined to break you down, to own you completely.

Morocco couldn't come soon enough, Rafe thought.

During most of his solo lunches, Rafe took himself into Cameron Development's newly remodeled canteen – a massive improvement over the old one, now boasting a Starbucks, Panera Bread, and McDonald's.

On his high-calorie days, nothing beat a Big Mac with fries, a guilty pleasure he'd never admit to his health-obsessed father.

Today, however, his appetite vanished the moment he spotted Pope Hayward holding court at one of the central tables. The sight of him, surrounded by laughing colleagues, made Rafe's jaw clench. Pope was clearly in the middle of some elaborate story, gesturing with his sandwich, playing the charming man that everyone seemed to love.

Rafe lingered by the McDonald's counter, watching through narrowed eyes as Pope checked his phone, probably texting you. The way Pope's face lit up at whatever response he received made Rafe's fingers curl into fists.

That should be his messages making you smile, his lunch breaks spent with you.

The Big Mac in his hands suddenly felt like ash in his mouth. Watching Pope play the perfect fiancé, the beloved colleague, the man who dared to claim what belonged to Rafe – it was enough to make him reconsider every non-violent solution to the Pope Hayward problem.

But then again, Rafe thought bitterly, remembering Ward's warning about Pope being untouchable. No matter how much he fantasized about making his rival disappear, Pope's position at R&P made him politically bulletproof. The merger was too important, the relationships too valuable to risk.

So, what the hell, Rafe thought, his lips curving into a dangerous smile. If you can't beat them, join them – and learn their weaknesses from the inside.

"Pope Hayward," Rafe interrupted, his voice cutting through Pope's animated story about some youthful adventure with his Pogue friends. "Long time no see."

The conversation at the table died instantly. Every head turned toward him, faces marked with varying degrees of wariness and surprise.

Rafe couldn't help but appreciate the poetry of the moment – gathered around this corporate lunch table were three men whose faces he'd bloodied more times than he could count: Pope Hayward, Topper Thornton, and Kelce Thompson (both whom he hadn't noticed until now).

The irony wasn't lost on him. These three ghosts from his violent past, now wearing suits and playing at respectability in his mid-thirties. Each one a reminder of who he used to be – and who he still was beneath his own expensive suit.

Pope worked for R&P, climbing the corporate ladder with irritating success. Topper had somehow landed a cushy position under Ward at their mainland branch. And Kelce, who'd never quite figured out the corporate game, still hung around like a remora fish attached to his more successful friends. When had these former enemies become such close allies? The thought made something twist unpleasantly in Rafe's gut.

"Ah, Rafe Cameron," Pope's response came with that insufferably casually witty tone that made Rafe's teeth grind. "What do you mean, I just saw you yesterday, remember that meeting on the Morocco properties?" He paused, a knowing glint in his eye. "You know, the one where you couldn't seem to keep your eyes off my fiancée?"

The word 'fiancée' hung in the air like a challenge. Pope said it so casually, so confidently – marking his territory while maintaining that easy smile. Topper and Kelce exchanged glances, sensing the dangerous undertone of what should have been a simple business reference.

Rafe's cerulean eyes darkened at the subtle jab. Pope might be younger, might play at being the easygoing professional, but there was steel beneath that casual exterior. He knew exactly what he was doing, deliberately reminding Rafe of both your engagement and his own awareness of Rafe's obsession.

The fluorescent lights of the canteen suddenly felt too bright, the space between them too charged with unspoken threats.

How bad would it look if Rafe eliminated Pope Hayward in the corporate canteen? Just reach across the pristine table and finish what he'd started all those years ago on the beach--and all those other times, and while he was at it, he might as well take care of Topper Thornton too – the ambitious little shit who keeps eyeing Rafe's position like a vulture circling dying prey. 

Rafe wasn't blind to the bitter reality unfolding before him. He saw the way Ward looked at Topper during meetings – that proud gleam in his father's eyes that Rafe hadn't seen directed at himself since childhood. The same look Ward used to give Sarah. While Rafe drowned in cocaine and debt, Topper had transformed from childhood rival into everything Ward wanted in a son.

The perfect fucking fairy tale: Topper Thornton, who'd married Sarah Cameron in that lavish ceremony three years ago, becoming the golden son-in-law, the brother Rafe never wanted. Now he was one of the company's top performers, stealing deals right out from under Rafe's nose with that same prep school charm that had stolen his sister.

Each of Rafe's failures – the mounting debts, the drug habit he couldn't kick, his growing obsession with you – seemed to push Ward further into Topper's camp. It was only a matter of time before his father decided to make the switch, replacing his disgrace of a son with the perfect proxy he'd always wanted.

But then that strange voice echoed in his head again: if you can't beat them, join them. The thought was foreign, almost painful – submission had never been in Rafe's vocabulary. Yet for once, maybe playing nice could work to his advantage. Get close enough to learn their weaknesses, their secrets. After all, the best way to destroy someone was from the inside.

For the first time in years, Rafe Cameron found himself considering patience over violence. The thought scared him almost as much as it intrigued him.

"Topper, Kelce, long time no see as well." Rafe forced the words through a practiced smile, deliberately turning away from Pope before his fists made decisions his career couldn't afford. He studied Pope's easy demeanor carefully, looking for any sign that you'd told him about the bathroom incident.

If Pope knew about that kiss, about how Rafe had tasted his fiancée's lips and lived to tell about it, this pleasant lunch scene would be very different.

The Pogues might play at being corporate now, but Rafe knew better – if Pope knew, he and his band of loyal attack dogs would have already stormed Rafe's waterfront condo with their old fury, all pretense of civilization stripped away.

But Pope's relaxed posture and casual smile suggested the kiss was still your little secret.

"How's my sister, and my niece?" Rafe said suddenly.

The mention of Sarah hung heavy in the air – another reminder of everything Topper had that should have been Rafe's: Ward's approval, the company's respect, a perfect family.

"Sarah and I are doing fine," Topper replied, his tone carrying that subtle note of superiority that made Rafe's jaw clench. "Madeline just started to walk." He paused, letting his next words land like carefully aimed darts. "You'd know this if you called every once in a while – introduce yourself to your niece."

The judgment in Topper's voice was clear: here was another way Rafe had failed as a Cameron. Another box Topper could check off in his perfect son-in-law performance.

Even being an uncle was something Rafe couldn't get right.

The worst part wasn't Topper's smugness or Pope's knowing smirk – it was that they were right. Rafe had been so consumed with his own demons, with watching you, with fucking random girls from bars, with chasing cocaine highs, that he'd missed his own niece's first steps.

Sarah would never forgive him for that, but then again, Sarah hadn't forgiven him for a lot of things.

"Wow, Rafe, you haven't even met your niece yet?" Kelce's voice dripped with theatrical shock, adding unnecessary drama like the background character he'd always been. His comment made the weight of Rafe's failures press harder against his chest.

"What can I say, I'm a busy man." Rafe's smile didn't reach his eyes. Then, seeing his opportunity, he shifted his attention back to Pope. "Speaking of busy – Pope, got a minute? Need to discuss something about your--" Rafe pauses, swallowing down his pride, "fiancée's role in the Morocco project."

The atmosphere at the table shifted instantly. Topper's eyes narrowed with suspicion, while Kelce looked between them like he was watching a tennis match. But it was Pope's reaction Rafe watched most carefully – the slight tension in his jaw, the way his easy smile faltered for just a moment.

"Sure thing, dude," Pope replied, emphasizing the casual term just to irk him. "Though I'm pretty sure any discussions about my fiancée's employment should go through HR, not me."

Rafe's smile turned predatory. "Trust me, this is something you'll want to hear in private."

"What is it Cameron? I don't got all day for your bullshit." Pope's words bounced off the nautical-themed walls of Rafe's office – the ones he'd designed with you in mind, a detail that made this conversation even sweeter.

"What makes you think it's bullshit I'm about to tell you, and not something that can change your life?" Rafe settled into his leather chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Or more specifically, change your courthouse wedding into something actually worthy of my secretary?"

Pope's eyes narrowed. "Get to the point."

"Morocco," Rafe said simply, watching Pope's reaction carefully. "The bonus alone would set you both up nicely. We're talking six figures, Pope. Enough to buy a real house, throw a real wedding. Maybe finally afford that engagement ring you've been 'saving up' for that she doesn't have to pay for?"

He let that sink in, noting how Pope's jaw clenched at the jab about his finances. "All you have to do is convince her to come with me. One month in Morocco, and you two could finally start living like Kooks instead of… well." Rafe gestured vaguely at Pope's off-the-rack suit.

"You really expect me to send my fiancée off to Morocco with you?" Pope's laugh held no humor. "I'm not an idiot Cameron, I see the way you look at her like she's a piece of meat--" His eyes hardened, that easy Pogue charm evaporating into something more dangerous. "Which I've been meaning to say to you--cut it out, dude, and get your own, that's not cool."

That "dude" hung in the air between them – a deliberate reminder of their age gap. Pope, still young enough to use such casual language in a corporate setting, while Rafe… well, Rafe was old enough to remember beating him unconscious for less disrespect than this.

The age difference had never bothered Rafe before. But now, watching Pope's boyish smile, knowing he was the one who got to wake up next to you every morning – it felt like salt in an open wound. You deserved someone more refined, more powerful. Someone who could give you more than courthouse weddings and young love optimism.

Someone like Rafe. 

"No," Rafe's smile turned shark-like--similar to his father's. "I expect you to want what's best for her. Unless, of course, you're happy watching her work as my secretary forever, living paycheck to paycheck, settling for courthouse ceremonies because her fiancé can't provide better."

The words hung in the air like poison. Rafe could see them working their way into Pope's mind, past his suspicion and into that deep-seated insecurity about not being good enough for you. After all, what kind of man would deny his future wife a chance at a better life?

"Think about it, Pope," Rafe pressed his advantage. "One month of discomfort for a lifetime of luxury. That's all I'm offering. The question is – do you love her enough to let her have it?"

"You're full of shit." Pope spat the words like venom as he headed for the door.

"Just think about it, Hayward--" He watched Pope's shoulders tense. "And hey."

Pope paused in the doorway, and Rafe's lips curved into that dangerous Cameron smile. "If you convince her to come with me, and you find out I try to make any move on her, I give you all rights to kick my ass. How's that sound?"

Rafe watched with predatory intensity, head tilted slightly as Pope weighed his options. The soft 'tsk' that escaped Pope's lips only made Rafe's smile sharpen – like a wolf watching its prey realize it's already trapped. Every second of Pope's hesitation felt like victory.

Before either man could speak again, the office door burst open. You stood there, slightly breathless, concern etched across your features. "Mr. Cameron? Is everything alright? I saw Mr. Hayward leaving and-"

"Just discussing some properties, sweetheart," Rafe cut in smoothly, his predatory smile softening into something almost believable. "Weren't we, Pope?"

Pope's jaw clenched at the endearment, but he managed a nod. "Yeah, just business." He caught your eye, and for a moment, looked like he wanted to say more. Instead, he turned and walked away, the weight of his decision settling heavy on his shoulders.

Rafe watched you watch Pope leave, already imagining how perfectly his plan was falling into place. Morocco was going to change everything – he'd make sure of it.

a/n -- this shit about to get so messy yall-

taglist-

@trapistani @alexxavicry @rafestoothbrush @ttrinity @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4rafey @Itristessedureratoujours @hittmeandtellmeyouremine @yoongling @lilithblackkk @yootvi @alyisdead @littlelamy @skel-skell @sydkneez @akobx @otheliesstuff @slut-4-gojo @darkuni63

[cinamonqirl]

Wicked Games

(Smut)

⁀➴

Top! Kate Bishop x Bottom! Female Reader

summary: You and your girlfriend are getting ready for party but you still have some time…

A/N: I need Hawkeye season 2 right now. This is the best I have ever written 😶‍🌫️

I appreciate every reblog and like 💝

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

"Kate stop, I'm trying to do my make-up." You say laughing when she start to tickle your waist.

Kate chuckle as well at your reaction as she lean forward and continue tickling you around your waist "Make-up can wait, you look gorgeous already." She put her chin on your head, smiling at you in the mirror. Her charming smile still make your stomach fill with butterflies.

"You're such a dork." You say sarcastically rolling your eyes at her words pretending to be annoyed but you feel flattered, despite her comment you continue to put your blush on your cheeks. She don't respond, instead she tickle you one more time making you mad.

You roll eyes, looking at her in the mirror reflection letting her know it's enough with glare. "If you won't stop I'll punch you, and trust me your mother won't be happy when you will arrive like that." You say half deadly serious but also with playfulness. You both are going to formal party which Kate's mother invited you to. You still have much time but you both like to gather up quicker. Your comment makes her laugh, but she wouldn't be surprised if her girlfriend would hit her. Because when you’re mad you can be really assertive.

"Well, I'm just trying to enjoy the view while I can." She can't help but smirk even though you're 'serious'. Her hands on your waist still aren't moving but holding you even tighter.

"You really like that dress I’m wearing?" You remark in seductive voice and hint of teasing. You know this dress can make her want to rip it off you, especially by tight and short design. She can admit she love it and hate it because the shortness provokes her.

Kate’s smirk widens as she look down at your body shamelessly. "Yes… really." She say in low voice leaning down a little to kiss your shoulder and whisper in your skin "Can't wait to take you out of it either." She brushes her nose against your skin smelling your sweet perfume. The touch make you feel sensitive.

"Who said you are going to take it off me later?" You say teasingly turning around to her with your back pressed into desk. Your hands immediately went to her chest fixing her black shirt.

She’s not surprised by your feistiness "And who's going to try and stop me?" She ask as her smirk raises into a smug look with a slight eyebrow raise as she squeeze your waist.

"Your mother will stop you if we will be late." You say playfully, wrapping your arms around her neck looking up at her eyes.

Snort escapes from her mouth shaking her head at you in disbelief. "There’s still much time and I can do this right now." Her low voice was quiet and hot making your stomach feel warm.

"Now?" You giggle softly seeing how much she craves you right now. Archer started to kiss your neck slowly brushing your skin with her breath. She hummed in response kissing your shoulder stroking your dress strap with her teeth. "Even if we were a little late, my mother would still forgive us." She continued to murmur against your skin. You hum pulling her closer by her neck barely listening to her when you’re in heaven.

You moved your head to the side giving her much space while she can hear your little panting. You felt her hands on your hips clenching so she can raise you up for you to sit on desk. It’s crazy how easy she can do that.

She kissed your shoulders one couple times before she pulled away slowly "You know, she likes you." Archer added smiling smugly at you, looking down at your thighs to start playing with the material of the end dress which ended really high on your thighs when you’re sitting.

"I'm glad." Your smile grow bigger at her words. You really liked her mother too. You’ve always had so much in common and many topics to talk about so you’re happy to know that.

"She always tells me to treat you well because you’re a good girl." She says with smirk in her face being proud to say that. You noticed she’s really happy with that fact. You giggled at her confession and her eyes immediately went back to you. "Am I treating you enough?" She asks squinting her eyes with that charming smile putting hands on the side of yours thighs. She knows she treats you the best she can but she likes to play with you. You raise an eyebrow at her surprised by her words but also can’t help but tease her a little.

"Maybe" You say playfully smiling slyly. You are willing to play this "game" with her, and you know how it ends. She run her tongue through inside of her cheek staring deeply into your eyes. You can feel the need between your legs when she looks at you like that.

"Maybe?" She repeated after you playfully, lowering her head down to look at your bare thighs, and you followed her gaze. She smiled smugly, carefully spreading your thighs a little bit with her hands. You carefully watched what she was doing, already feeling excited at her movements as your breath hitches at the feeling of her hands in you.

"Is there something I can do to make you feel well treated, my love?" She asks teasingly keeping her hands to herself waiting for your response, like a whole gentleman. She’s playing and you like it. The sexual tension makes you both want more and more.

You pretend to be thoughtful but you exactly know what you want "Hm, my legs are a bit of cold." You replied meaningfully shrugging your shoulders with smirk on your lips. She understood your point perfectly as she snort moving her hand to your thigh slowly running up and down. "Is that better?" Her voice was smooth and low enjoying your skin with her hand.

"Mhm.." You hummed in response staring blankly at her veiny hand on your thigh feeling like you’re losing your mind at her touch. "You like it too?" Your question surprised her.

"More than yes." Her smirk was something that made you melt right now. You breathed deeply craving her fingers inside you. The muscles in her arms tense up and the grip in her hands tightens as she feel your soft breaths and see your cheeks blush pink. Her hand squeezed your thigh, brushing at your skin, making you feel lightheaded.

She noticed that you were already at the end of your endurance. "Can you do it harder..?" You asked quietly flustered with her gently touch. You needed more.

"Harder?" Her smirk turns into a sly grin as she raise one of her eyebrows at your request so she started to squeeze and caress your skin harder than before. She slightly looked at you, wanting to see your reaction as her grip tighten around your skin, really close your panties. You bite your lip as her fingers slid a little into your panties, driving over the material teasingly.

She hear your panting and she want to do more to you. "How about I kiss them instead?" Her smile grew bigger as she saw your reaction when her hand went lower, brushing over your sensitive spot.

Your look in the eyes where enough for her so she lowered her head to tease you with breath on your skin. You see her playing so you take your hand and place it on her head pulling her down so she can finally touch your thighs with her lips.

Her smirk stays on face as she feel your hand on her head and you pressing down on her head makes her feel like she have no choice but to do what you ask. Her mouth opens and her lips move onto your thigh, kissing it as she feel your body tense up and your soft moans make her want you even more. She kissed your skin slowly and gently but quickly she started to bite your skin leaving hickeys on your sensitive skin. Without hesitation you moaned feeling the best.

You leaned back resting your hands on the desk. She take advantage of it so she stopped for a while just to aggressively pull your fabric of dress higher to you hip line. She noticed your lace underwear, she bought you the other day. "You look sexy." Archer complimented you, then immediately started kissing your thighs higher and higher till she reached your hip line, stroking your panties with her teeth. No one could ever imagine how divinely you felt right now. She took your one leg and place it on her shoulder so she can kiss your inner thighs. That move was really sensual for you. You can feel your heart pounding so fast.

"Shit Kate…" You pant being at the edge of moaning, when she bite your thigh just few inches away from your sensitive spot. She can feel your whole body hot and really enjoying this which made her want to do more and more. She bite and kiss your thighs making the marks darker and more noticeable.

"I’ll have to hide it." You say breathless looking at your thighs all over with hickeys.

She smirk then move her mouth higher up your thigh "Do you think you can walk afterwards?" She ask flirtatiously in low voice, before giving your thigh another forceful bite. You don’t care if you won’t be able to walk, it’s to amazing too care about it now.

"You will have to carry me." You reply teasingly still wanting to play. She chuckle deeply "I have nothing against." She raises her head to look at you.

"Can I take off your panties my lady?" Her breath was stroking your skin and her voice was so gentle, and you never would deny to her when she’s like this.

"Yes.." You reply excited at her words. She pull your panties gently to completely take them off. Her eyes was consuming you craving your taste. She takes your other leg and put them both on your shoulder so she can have better access, and she gently pull you closer so she can do what she want. Your body was in heaven right now.

She started to kiss your thighs again then slowly wander to your clit at lick you slowly. You moaned feeling her tongue inside you. "Fuck.." You pant throwing your head back in pleasure. You felt more hot and hot each second.

She lick and suck your clit and it was enough for you "fuck you’re so hot." She chuckle dipping her tongue deep into you, then immediately started to massage your clit with her fingers to end your suffering. You was completely choked, breathing heavily and moaning staring to feel your legs shaking. Of course archer noticed it so she on purpose made her movements even faster, and even though you’ve already came, she wanted you to made you feel better so she didn’t stop.

"Fuck Kate." You moan having already overwhelmed. She pulled her tongue out of you but continued to massage your clit way slower now. She clenched her jaw seeing your back arched. "Enough?" She chuckled stopping her movements.

Without your response she took your legs from her shoulders to place them back on the desk but she hold you close to her as you try to calm down. She wipes your juices from under her mouth with her thumb as if it’s just dinner. You pull her by your hands on her shirt to passionate kiss. After seconds of make out you pulled away. "Kate I think I won’t be able to walk because of you." You say with little smirk barely feeling your legs.

"We still have time to that party." She added smirking at you. "You can spread it out." She chuckle "And cover." Biting her lip while looking at marks on your skin.

[kasarasun]

what if I made a thing or it already was that while Airplane wrote the world, Peerless Cucumber illustrated it (only the animals. And Binghe, fighting the animals.) And then then then

He'd totally do it on an alt account, right?? Peerless Cucumber can't be seen making fanart!! (And he's good at it. Like, wiki is using his art in the monsters and beasts pages (that Peerless Cucumber volleyed for. He also separated it from the plant section.) Because 1 its good 2 the artstyle is consistent 3 there isn't a lot of monster official art, other than that one with the black moon rhinoceros python and those other ones and 4 it's really that good)

Haha incomprehensible parenthesis nesting aside, Airplane is watching the forums, right? Not sure about other stuff in canon but he looks at the forums and the fanart and the fiction and most of it is probably corn and binghe and just a little bit of mobei-jun and also the wives tm but!! There's also that guy!!! The monsters guy!! (People would probably suspect 'Drawing the Beast's Ire'- or some other sex euphemism I'm not good at making those- of being Peerless Cucumber because 1 the writing style is the same 2 Peerless Cucumber is the number 1 contributor to the PIDW wiki and a lot of it is the monsters and beasts section and it makes sense, yes??) Anyway, Airplane shooting towards the sky suspects but not too seriously suspects Mr ire of being cucumber's fanart alt but uh uh that ends pre-transmigration section

So, Shen Yuan starts running about, right? Things seem really... familiar, maybe thats the word?- for some reason. This is because every animal and plant he's ever drawn, sketched- maybe even thought about but that's a stretch?- is his design. The firefly parallels hold their forelimbs like butterflies. That is how far down it goes. Maybe it doesn't come up until later, but beasts and monsters from fanfiction get involved, oc species, too... anyway,

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky transmigrates 30 years (iirc) before Peerless Cucumber. He was an avid enough follower of Drawing the Beast's Ire to recognize that these are their designs! Here's where it gets really crazy. Xiao-Mobei comes along, and while he's still pretty young, Airplane can tell that this is Drawing Ire's design! Some aspect, maybe his ears or teeth, (this isn't a well built theoretical tangent) of Mobei isnt canon. Its Drawing Ire's. From that one Northern Kingdom collection. Whatever stretched his world building into coherence, completion, didn't just pull from fanwork, official art, whatever it could find, it went for Drawing the Beast's Ire's designs specifically. Damn that's crazy Airplane ahahaha moving on,

This is getting really long so I'll be a bit more concise, (want to know more? Talk to me. Please talk to me. I want to interact with the fandom. Ask me questions. Poke your fingers into my cage.) This all comes to head at the Immortal alliance conference. The monsters and beasts really start pouring in! And Shen Qingqiu/Yuan remembers his creations. However, he assumes that this is because like 1 other person maybe was Drawing ghost head spiders.

Hey, Peerless Cucumber really liked the monsters, right? The deadlier, crazier, more intricate, the design the better! So maybe, when he was drawing, he... added some things, really believable, logical additions, really just small creative decisions...

Anyway, the monsters that Drawing the Beast's Ire made were where it came to a head.

Lets have another Canon divergence. Maybe, during or after Binghe gets pushed in, out of the rifts comes a species that Drawing Ire created. It's beautiful, poisonous, beloved, and really quite deadly. Shen Yuan/Qingqiu, Peerless Cucumber, Drawing the Beast's Ire... realizes, quite like airplane before him, that he's illustrated, practically sculpted with his own hands, monsters from the Endless Abyss with claws and teeth and poisons as deadly as Peerless Cucumber thought that the really cool monsters could deserve. It feels like he's the one cutting, biting, poisoning his sweet little sheep. It feels like he's digging out the marrow from his little white lotus disciple's bones.

Ok it is shut up time 👍

[eydi-andrius]

Cruel Existence (Gojo Satoru x Reader)

summary: Gojo broke up with you a week ago. Trying to forget him, you invited your friends to a night out. It was fun while it lasted, until you realized that you never went home to your own place. In fact, you were sleeping soundly on his bed.

cw/tw: angst, hurt, pain, mentions of break up, regret, mentions of drinking until one passes out (please don't do this), trespassing

a/n: this was fun to write. I hope you like it. Again, as much as I appreciate likes, comments and reblogs motivates me better. Thank you!

🐈

It is wild how the stranger you once met becomes the most important person in your life.

Then for one day, life decided to make that person a stranger again.

Some may argue that no, they're not strangers anymore.

However if you think about it, a person who isn't in your life is nothing but a mere stranger.

His memories may be there, and it must have been your greatest treasure. Yet, it doesn't erase the fact that it wasn't them anymore.

Each day, the knife twists deeper, sharper and deadlier the more you think about the what ifs and the whatnots.

It's like a deadly poison slivering inside your vein. Memories turn lethal and invasive. You begged for them to just stop and let you breathe.

You prayed every night for it to be over. As you close your eyes, you wish that the morning will make you feel renewed and the person you once were.

How cruel life can be when all you wanted was to be loved.

Gojo had found you first. Maybe that explains a lot why he ended it in the first place.

"Look at this girl. She called us to drink her sorrows away but she was just holding her beer and staring from afar." Iori called you out. Then, rolled her eyes in annoyance. You gave her a chuckle and muttered an apology.

If she did not call your name, you will probably think about what you did wrong and why he ended your relationship that way. He looks tired, fed up when you ask why. He wasn't the same Satoru to whom you knew. It was true that he could be cold-hearted at times but he never acted that way towards you.

That should have been a red flag but that action had made a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. You almost thought you were special.

You bit your lips as you felt another tear wanting to come out and spill your pain in front of your friends again. Shaking your head and blinking your eyes, you tried your best to stop it.

You called and invited them to forget him. It has been a week. It shouldn't bother you as much anymore. He probably had been enjoying his single life. The pain of being pursued and being rejected after achieving your goal was something you had been trying your best not to overthink about. It might be true, but it wasn't healthy to soak through the scenarios and what ifs you knew nothing about.

It will just kill you inside and there will be no reprieve for it.

Attention and awareness finally came back to what you were doing, and so you looked around. The bar was loud. Blinking lights and the alcohol were giving everyone a false sense of confidence as they danced and socialized on the crowded dance floor. Everyone looked like they were having fun. Now, you kinda felt bad that your friends were just sitting inside the private booth with you. Especially, when all of these independent ladies had been through a tough week doing their work. You felt bad wasting their time to watch you mopping and crying over a man they already told you to be wary about.

"I know what you were thinking. And no, I'd rather sit here and join you into drinking your heart out than be with those strangers. Drink up!" Mei mei raised her eyebrows and tapped your pint. She's always so impressive at reading people. Sometimes you wonder if you had said your thoughts aloud with how accurate her words were, at times.

Heart filled with warmth, with how loving your friends were, you stood up and hugged them all. Shoko who remained quiet and sitted patted your back in reassurance after returning your big hug.

It was probably harder for her to hear what happened. She was close to Gojo. You just hoped she wouldn't be planning his murder though. She may be quiet but when angry, she can be more intense than these two.

Anyway, enough thinking about your ex-boyfriend now! These hot ladies gave you their precious free time so might as well use it wisely and to full extent.

You basically had dragged the three in the middle of the dance floor and showed them your moves, which was nonexistent, so you earned a mocking and hysterical laughter from them. Yet, it did not take long for them to follow suit and even challenge you to a dance battle.

The night was filled with laughter, and for once, during that grueling week, you forgot why you were crying and had to lie about your puffy eyes.

🐈

The pain in your head was intolerable. You had been awake for quite some time now but you cannot even lift your eyelids on how painful it was. You groaned. You moaned. You breathed in and out to make it better but the beating of the unbearable pain seems to get worse.

Well, it was true what they said, it had been fun while it lasted.

Last night was a blast. No one can stop the four of you as you claimed the stage and did your greatest night out. You felt the rush of freedom and so you did not stop taking shots after shots. The consequences were pushed back in the deepest part of your brain. And for once, you let your wild side out in public.

You were probably so wasted but at least managed to get home safe. The proof was the soft mattress of your bed. Your fresh sheet enveloping your exhausted body to a warm embrace while the air conditioner blows the perfect amount of cold. This atmosphere should have pulled you back to sleep, if it weren't for this godforsaken headache. Gosh, you wanted so bad to go back to sleep. But you are in pain, needing to pee and calm your growling hunger. You can even feel the vile gastric threatening to come up due to your empty stomach.

"How long do you plan to sleep on my bed?"

Familiar voice had spoken close to you and your body reacted way too fast. You sat up and opened your eyes. Leaning on the doorway was your ex-boyfriend Gojo Satoru. His blue eyes are neutral but his face says he was pissed.

His hair was damp. Droplets were even falling from it but he wore a white towel around his neck to prevent it from cascading further down to his body. He was half naked, only wearing an untied sweats that was hanging way too low for your comfort. Normally, you would say he was hot. But that was not the most important thing right now.

"What do you think you are doing inside my room-!?" In surprise, you yelled but were met by your very hoarse voice. You even ended up violently coughing and wheezing with how dry your throat was. It was as if you did a 24 hour karaoke with your friends or you competed at a screaming contest.

"Maybe before you groaned and moaned to someone else's bed, make sure you were actually on your bed." He tuts and moves towards where you were sitting. You felt a cold metal placed on your forehead and you sighed in relief. Even though it gave you a quick relief, it only happened for a second.

The pain, forgotten for a moment of shock, was now back twice ruthless. Your head was swimming in pain and you felt lightheaded. You left out a loud burp and you felt the hand, holding the can on your forehead, maneuvered fast to pick up the bucket placed methodically on his bedside. The respect you had for this man for preparing this much so he would be able to stop you if you plan to puke all over his place as revenge.

You wretched as if there was no tomorrow. All contents from last night probably had been vomited earlier because you felt only the acid of vile as it pushes whatever was still left inside of you. Heaving, you accepted the water he provided and gargled the last remaining content of puke in your mouth. You cleaned up using the back of your hand and leaned at the nearby chair while you were still sitting on his bed.

This is probably your year's nightmare. Drinking a lot for the first time, losing your friends by walking to someone else's house and worse, sleeping on your ex's bed and thinking it was so comfortable and homey earlier.

While you were thinking and regretting what you had done, you heard the scraping of the table being pulled closer to where you sat. His presence near you again. The clang of utensils, the sound of the lid being opened and plastic wrappers being crumpled and thrown had almost lull you to sleep when you felt a soft tap of his familiar hand on your shoulder.

With a blink, you straightened up and looked at the store bought food, placed in front of you.

It was cup noodles, a bottle of water and ibuprofen, placed on the side. The cold can of coffee just above it.

"Eat up or you will feel shittier than you are right now." He said more like an order and just stood in front of you with arms crossed.

You gulped and tried your best to eat but your hair kept on falling down and dipping on the cup noodles. You were already aware that you smelled like vomit, who could even imagine you can also smell like cup noodles. With a groan of frustration, you collected your hair on the side and was about to eat again when you felt his hand run through your hair.

He mumbled a soft "Let me." and with practiced moves, he was able to tie your hair with a hair tie. He used to do this a lot when you decided not to cut your hair shorter so you can donate it. He was so sweet and attentive when you were still together and this action of concern was not helping your case.

You sat and ate in silence while he stood there for a while and decided it was too awkward and he left you alone. He closed the door as softly as he could. Once you were sure he was gone, you gave out an empty scream and slapped your face multiple times. The pain, embarrassment, and anger were all mixed up as you felt it rise within you.

With a frustrated groan, you bite your lip and pray that this nightmare was all a dream. But you know better. Eyes staring at the familiar ceiling, you sighed. The room is engulfed with quiet except for your ragged breathing, indiciating, how sick you are.

The silence did not last long when you remembered your phone and frantically looked for it. You saw it placed properly on the nearby stool and almost cried when you saw the numerous texts and calls from your friends. Ranging from the early hours of the day and right now, it was asking for the same thing; where were you? or are you okay?.

Nervous, you tried your best to reply even with shaking hands and once you hit send, they immediately saw it and called.

The call was filled with screams of terror and relief that you were okay. But once they calmed down, you were able to talk to them properly. They even answered the gnawing question you had been wondering about when you saw Gojo in front you.

Around 3 am, you four had decided to book a room in a nearby hotel, instead of getting a cab and going home. You all were too wasted to even trust yourselves that you can all recall how to go home.

They never remember much after that but they were sure you were the first one to sleep on the bed. But later, after around 5 or 6, Iori woke up and saw you weren't there. They were filled with panic and terror because there is no way you can stand up after having that short sleep and being too drunk.

They tried to rationalize that maybe you did go home and tried to call you. But when you were still not picking up, they almost trashed the hotel room. Luckily, the cleaning lady was kind enough. When she saw their panicked and disheveled appearance, she asked the security to check if you left the hotel in one piece. It turns out, she had seen you four together and was also worried that something happened to you too.

They had seen you walking out of the room and through the lobby, up to the entrance. You obviously looked still drunk as you tried to wobble and walk straight ahead, outside of the hotel.

Since then, they have been blowing your phone with texts and calls. They could hear it ringing so they suspected that maybe you accidentally turned it to silent mode or you were kidnapped.

Grateful, you reassured them that you were fine. You made up a story that you booked a new hotel room, in another hotel, probably because you were drunk. Currently, you informed them that you were staying in that room and having breakfast. You reasoned out that you were not able to answer their calls and texts because you can barely open your eyes. It uproared another wave of panic but you told them firmly that you were fine and will call them once you take care of your too drunk ass. To stop them from asking further, you hung up the phone with an excuse that your battery was dying out.

There is no way that you will share to them that your drunk ass went to your ex's huge condominium and you thought as you woke that it was yours. You had been staying and visiting this place that your body immediately thought of this place as your other home.

After finishing your meal, and feeling the medicine taking effect. You psych yourself up to face the inevitable. There is no way you can just walk out of this place without confronting him about what you did and what he had to witness.

You walk to the restroom and try your best to look presentable and not a crazy person.

Once done, you slowly crept towards the door and opened it ajar, you scanned the place and looked for him. He was wearing a black fitted plain shirt, as he sat on the couch, sipping a cup of coffee as he typed something on his laptop. Probably, for work.

You walked slowly towards him and coughed to get his attention. His piercing blue eyes stared back at you, as he removed his glasses and closed his laptop. He grumbled and again, crossed his arms to his chest. His lips were abit pouted and the creases on his head showed a frown.

"I'm really sorry for trespassing. I promise I will never drink that hard again." You promised and even did a pinky swear in front of him. He looked unamused though as he replied with a doubtful "hmmm" and still had the same frowning face.

"Do you remember what you did then?" He asked.

"To be honest, no. I only remember being in a hotel with the girls and sleeping. I don't really remember much about what I did." You gulped when you saw him raised his eyebrow and sighed.

"See those keys?" He pointed at the keys placed on a bowl. "You used that to enter my condo. They were my spare keys that were still hidden in the same place. You were so drunk that you thought you went back home and even slept beside me. I thought I was sleeping with my pillow the whole morning, so imagine my surprise when that pillow turned out to be you." He shared with a firm voice, as if he even cannot fathom what happened.

However, something's amiss with that story.

"No way! Don't lie to me. I agree that I may have done the trespassing but sleeping beside you? Nahhhhhhh! I doubt that. Remember, you're a light sleeper! There is no way I can sneak up on you and sleep." It was now your time to raise your eyebrow and cross your arms at him. You even sounded smug for someone who owed him big time.

You do not believe that other accusation at all. That is so unbelievable and he was probably messing with you so you will feel guiltier from entering his home without permission.

"My new doctor prescribed effective sleeping pills for insomnia this time. I have been sleeping better and on time ever since. I never felt any movement at all." He smirked. And you know, you lose. Gojo never lied about these things and you also knew that he was struggling to sleep.

So if this was true, then for the whole morning, you were sleeping together!?

Who would even do that with her ex? Oh god you are stupid!

His smug look had made you feel ashamed even more and you know that you're red as a tomato. You feel hot all over and even at the end of your ears.

Let's end this humiliation and be done with this asap!

"I- Thank you for taking care of me. I owe you one. I'm so sorry again and will promise not to drink again and disturb you. Again, I am so sorry." With a deep bow, you sincerely apologize and you just hear him say "look up."

"It's alright. I'm glad your safe. Hangover but safe. " He taunted and you just wanted to slap that smirk out of his face. He was obviously implying how humiliating your shenanigans were. And they were, but he doesn't have the right to judge.

"Well then, if there's nothing more, I'll go back to the hotel and meet my friends." A bow again and you were on your way out.

You blinked when he slapped his hands on his thighs before he stood up and used his head to tell you to go first.

You frowned a bit in confusion but followed regardless.

This whole interaction was so awkward but familiar. He does this a lot whenever you visit his home. He usually drives you back home or if he can't, he will see you out to the entrance.

The elevator did not come sooner, however. It was creating unnecessary drama and tension between you two. As you just stood there, holding your bag for dear life. You hugged it for comfort and distraction on this growing awkwardness by standing near him. He looks fit. You imagine running your hands over him again. It was more tempting now than before.

"Please take care of yourself." You heard him speak first, breaking the ice. Your head whipped so fast in his direction when you heard his voice break a little when he said that. But when you looked at him, he titled his head to the side, confused at your action. Maybe you imagined it.

Embarrassed, you used the ping of the elevator as an excuse, thank god, and immediately rode the lift.

He was standing there on the other side, he was staring at you. It feels like someone was looking into your soul. You cannot help but feel vulnerable and open in front of his eyes. He looks solemn, calm.

If you stop me, I will forgive you and run back to your loving arms.

It was too late before you realized that you opened your mouth to speak and called his name.

"Satoru." His first name rang smoothly on your mouth. It feels comfortable and your heart twinged in pain when you realized that it may be the last time you will ever see him.

As the door closes slowly, you have seen his mouth move from your peripheral and he uttered your name softly, like how you say the name of the ones you treasured the most.

You do not know if you were just seeing things but his eyes look emotional, somewhat sad for a second. Before the elevator door finally closes and your name echoed when he said it.

"Y/N."

There were no tears as the lift started going down. You expected that seeing him one last time, you will feel the pain worse than before. Yet, that did not happen.

Staring at your reflection, your eyes look tired. The way those eyes bore at you speaks volume on how your soul truly feels about this.

You had a moment of acceptance when the doors closed in between you two.

A new chapter of your lives will arise. He will have his own world without you. He will be happy. He will be truly madly deeply in love with someone else.

And now, the hurt and pain became numb and cold.

Just imagining that he would love someone much greater than what he had given you was soul crushing to the point of rude awakening.

During those times, you will be happy for him. But you wish, as selfish as it sounds, that he will not be as happy when you were still together.

🐈

Gojo doesn't need to get up to know it was you who entered his condo without notice. He was a bit concerned that you kept on stumbling around and cussing his furniture out that managed to trip you, even though it was clearly your fault.

When he felt the bed dipped and your arms automatically hugging him from behind, it made him a bit nervous. He has to pretend to be asleep or else…….or else what? He never knew.

You smell like alcohol and you're even slurring your words. He never saw you this drunk before. In fact, you never liked alcohol. You have a terrible experience of living with an alcoholic, so a mere smell of alcohol repulses you. He never expected to see you drunk and barely kept together.

He was about to confront you, when he felt your arms tighten around him and your breath tickling his back when you said, "I'm home." with a sigh of relief before passing out.

Gojo had never felt more at peace hearing those words coming from your mouth.

🐈

When he woke up, he was just staring at you. He never had any proper sleep since the break up but knowing you were beside him, he was able to sleep well.

Maybe something inside him had been comforted when you said you were home. It actually warms his heart that you felt at home beside him.

He sat up and, a twang of pain rushed inside his chest. He shakes his hair in annoyance using his right hand.

He doesn't have the right to be sad about it when he was the one who broke it up with you.

Gojo never really knew why he did it in the first place. Sure, his family never approved of you but he never really cared about their opinion. He actually wishes for his old folks to die soon so he doesn't have to pretend that he cares about their words. He grew up without them being around.

Or maybe it was because he felt insecure that someone as kind and loving as you chose him. You were so different to the people he usually surrounds himself around but you were warm and he felt safe around you.

With a frustrated groan, Gojo stood up and was about to walk towards the door when he thought of an idea.

He slowly walked towards where you were asleep, bent down and whispered, "Welcome home." before kissing your forehead.

For the first time, after a week of him trying to justify that he made the right choice, making Nanami, his friend, worry that he was working too much, he felt at peace and happy.

Just for a moment, he wanted to pretend that he did not let you go for something so stupid and you were actually home with him.

[megalony]

I'm Taking You Home

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, requested by the lovely @senjoritanana I hope you like it and I'm surprised how quickly I managed to finish this for you. Feedback is always amazing.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie

911 Masterlist

Summary: While out on a call, someone tries to shoot at the 118 and the accident bursts (Y/n)'s eardrum. Evan makes sure to do all he can to look after her.

Enjoy.

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"I'm ready for bed." (Y/n) braced her hands on her hips and tilted her head back as she clicked her spine into place. Her knee jutted forward and she took deep breaths as she waited on the pavement for Evan to catch her up.

"It's only lunchtime,"

She tilted her head to the right and raised a brow at Eddie when he playfully bumped his shoulder into hers. He looked down at his watch before he looked back over at her. It had just gone twelve, they were on time for once to go back to the station and get lunch before another call dragged them back out.

"Excuse me, we've been on a two-day bender at the station. We haven't been to bed yet."

Eddie held his hands up in defeat when Evan walked over towards them and slung an arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders, reeling her into his side.

Evan, (Y/n) and Bobby had all been on shift for near enough forty-eight hours now and they'd had four hours sleep, if that. The station was short handed and with Hen, Chimney and Eddie all needing to have a break between shifts due to childcare, (Y/n) and Evan stepped up. They were alright with doing long shifts, especially when they were paired up together.

They didn't mind whereas it wasn't fair for Eddie or Hen or Chimney to do longer than a twenty four hour shift when they had families to go home to. Unless it was an emergency situation, of course.

(Y/n) leaned her head back onto Evan's shoulder and grinned up at him when he swiped her helmet from her head so he could see her properly.

She hated how much she loved it when Evan reeled her into his side like this. (Yn) hated just how much she loved to slot under his arm and how she fit perfectly into his side like two puzzle pieces slotting together. She hated the way he looked down at her and winked because it made butterflies swarm free in her stomach and fueled her with unnecessary adrenaline.

"Alright team, let's pack up."

They all made their way across the road and headed over to the truck to start packing up ready to leave.

(Y/n) refrained from sighing when she had to loosen up and slide out of Evan's hold. She let him keep her helmet that he moved to pack into the truck along with his helmet and jacket. A smile danced across her lips as she held her hand out and took the medic bag from Eddie so she could put it back in the compartment along with hers.

She was ready for home.

Once they were back at the station, (Y/n) and Evan would have three more hours to have dinner and maybe join in on one more call out before they could have the rest of the week at home.

Sometimes it felt better to keep working through the week because when she and Evan had the same time off together, (Y/n) didn't know how to act around her roommate. Not when the way she felt for him was moving away from platonic and into something more deadly. At least when they were on shift there was no risk of any feelings getting in the way, they were too busy for that.

(Y/n) brushed her hands over her knees, ridding them of dust and grime before she turned and moved towards the other side of the truck. She grabbed the hose and started to wind it up and clipped it back in place before she shut the compartment and did a quick check. Everything was packed away, they could get going now.

She could hear Hen shouting for her to get in and a smile pulled at her lips as she grabbed the handle and pulled herself up the steps to climb up.

Evan whispered a quiet 'come on' as he patted the vacant seat next to him that was waiting for her. But the radiant, cheesy grin on his features faded the moment an awful bang rung out through the air.

A scream burst past (Y/n)'s lips and her hands coiled up to her head as she dropped to her knees on instinct.

Gunshots.

Someone was shooting at them.

They weren't on a call out for an assailant with a gun. They had sorted out a gas leak in a cafe, they weren't here for any injuries or shootings and no one had been trying to hold a hostage situation nearby. They didn't even have the ambulance with them today because the call out wasn't that serious.

Evan jerked back in his seat, hunching his shoulders and moving his hands mid-air despite not knowing what he was trying to do. He could feel his heart ramming away at his ribcage and his pulse throbbed in his neck but he couldn't catch a proper breath. He could feel Chimney rushing to unclip his belt beside him and it made Evan realise he hadn't done up his own belt yet.

With that thought in mind, Evan jumped forward and slammed down onto his knees in the footwell of the truck. His arms reached out and grabbed (Y/n), reeling her back until she stumbled into him. He could see from the way she dropped down that she hadn't been hurt and when he swept his eyes across her, he couldn't see any blood or wounds and she wasn't screaming out in pain.

"Get down! Get on the floor!" Evan jerked his right arm out and pulled on Eddie's sleeve before he moved to do the same to Hen, trying to drag them both down.

Someone was shooting at them, they needed to cower down in the footwell below the windows so they weren't easy targets. Sitting in their seats made them easy to spot and aim at. (Y/n) had been stood up when the shots started, they might have been aiming for her.

Chimney and Hen went down on their knees and leaned forward with their heads hunkered down low and their hands braced on the seats in front of them.

Eddie snapped his belt off so fast it slammed into the window while he slid off his seat and crouched down. There wasn't enough room for all five of them in the footwell but they rammed together like sardines to try and stay low. Leaning to the left, Eddie braced one arm over his head for cover before he leaned towards the door and grabbed it. He swung it until it snapped shut, caging them all inside safely out the way and hunkered down.

"Bobby-"

"Everybody hold tight!"

Bobby turned the lights on but not the sirens and leaned forward until his head was level with the steering wheel for extra coverage and protection. He didn't think twice before slamming his foot down on the gas to get them moving. Whoever was shooting was aiming for them and they needed to move.

"This is Captain Nash, shots fired! Repeat, shots are being fired we need police assistance. Is anyone hurt?" He did his best to look over his shoulder into the back but when he couldn't see any of them, he looked back at the road and swerved onto a side road to get them out the way.

There was nothing they could do. They couldn't stay and try to see if anyone was injured or hurt or stop the gunman when they seemed to be the targets.

Everyone took a quick glance down at themselves before they looked over at one another. No one seemed to have been hit and one of the windows had smashed but the glass hadn't cut any of them. They had escaped that one safe enough, but it had been close.

For a few more seconds, Evan didn't dare lift his head. He stayed down on his knees with (Y/n) curled over his thighs and his arms bound tight around her middle. He had his lips pressed against the back of her head although he didn't know why or even when he had suddenly done that. And no one else tried to move either. He could feel Chimney slouching against him, Hen had her hand on his shoulder for comfort and to steady herself. And Eddie was squashed in the corner with both his hands braced on the chair in front of him.

When Bobby turned another sharp corner, it felt safe enough for them all to push up and straighten up. But no one attempted to sit on a chair. They all remained on the floor.

"Is anyone hurt? Do I have to make a trip down to the hospital?" Bobby needed an answer. The turning for the hospital was coming up and he could either take that turn, or carry on straight and head back to the station.

Evan slowly reeled up and shuffled around until he was sat down on his bum and not his knees. He leaned his back up against the seat behind him and pulled his knees up which shifted (Y/n) so she was pinned between his knees and his chest.

"(Y/n)? Look at me, are you okay?" He kept one arm around her waist and moved his other hand to cup her jaw so he could turn her head. He tilted her head up so she was facing him.

His baby blue eyes did three turns looking her up and down but he couldn't see any injuries on her. All he could see were her hands still covering her ears and tears drenching her face. And Evan could feel her panicked breaths pushing into his chest, she was breathing like there wasn't enough air in the room and she was trying to stockpile what little oxygen she could.

Shivers bolted up and down (Y/n)'s spine when Evan started to rub his thumb across her chin and up towards her lip. And when he pulled her bottom lip down and leaned closer, she realised she wasn't talking. She wasn't saying anything and that was panicking him.

She couldn't hear him properly when he repeated the same question again, but she forced herself to nod her head. She wasn't hurt. She wasn't shot or hit with anything and she hadn't gotten any glass imbedded in her skin.

But her head was splitting.

Her right ear felt like it had been blown off. It was throbbing and pulsing and her head was starting to pound and sway back and forth like she was being used as a drum. The shot must have been close.

"We're good, Cap."

(Y/n) kept both her hands deadlocked over her ears and leaned forward to smother her face into Evan's shirt. Her breath hitched in her throat when Evan moved his hand down to cup the back of her thigh and she dared not ask what he was doing. She went limp despite her sudden panic and let Evan lift her over so she could sit down between his parted thighs.

He moved his hand to cup the back of her head and his other arm curved around her waist. He rested his chin on top of her head and held his breath for as long as he could so he wasn't panting and gasping anymore.

His eyes flitted over to look at Eddie when he rested his hand on Evan's ankle and patted his leg with a soft expression.

"He nearly shot her."

Evan's voice was so quiet that everyone almost misheard what he'd said. All eyes fell onto him except for (Y/n). And they looked at his hardened expression before their heads turned to see what he was looking at. The window opposite the door was the one that had shattered.

Whoever shot at them had aimed for (Y/n). An inch lower, an inch to the left, if she moved a second slower, there would be a bullet in her head and nothing they could do to save her.

None of them wanted to move when the truck pulled up in the station.

All of them seemed to exchange looks before Eddie sighed and took the plunge. He used the seat behind him as leverage and pushed up to his feet so he could open the door and hop down. He cracked his neck into place and stretched his arms in front of him while he waited for everyone else to follow him out.

Hen patted Evan's shoulder as she climbed over him to get out, followed by Chimney. Hen folded her arms over her chest and rubbed her hands up and down her sleeves to try and calm herself down. Any one of them could have gotten a gunshot wound today.

"We're back," Evan mumbled the words into (Y/n)'s hair before he moved his hands to cup her wrists so he could pull her hands away from her ears.

He hated to see tears streaked down her face and the way she was still struggling to take in a proper breath. Before he could stop himself, Evan leaned forward and kissed her temple.

His hands moved to hold her hips and he tried to smile when (Y/n) gripped his shoulders to try and stand up. He could feel how badly she was shaking once she was stood up and he moved to stand behind her with his hands still on her hips to try and comfort her. They climbed down and moved to stand next to everyone else.

Bobby looked furious.

His hands were on his hips, his foot was tapping against the floor and he moved one hand to drag across his chin before he scratched his nails into the back of his head.

"The police will be down here soon to take statements, and I'll need you all to complete some paperwork for the Chief, but that can wait until tomorrow. Does anyone need to see a counsellor or have a session before you carry on with your shifts?"

The police would no doubt be here within the hour to take statements and talk them all through what happens next. And Bobby would need to fill out an incident report and have everyone make their statements for the paperwork. He could let that wait until tomorrow, until the shock had worn off and everyone felt better.

But they all knew that they had a right to see a councillor or therapist and if they wanted to, they could have an appointment to be cleared to come back to work. Bobby wouldn't want anyone to carry on working if they felt too shaky or unsettled and thought they should talk it through with someone first. Their health and wellbeing came first and they had almost taken a bullet today, it would be understandable if anyone wanted to go home.

Evan clasped his hands together behind his back and kept his eyes on his shoes. He didn't need to talk this through. He needed to sit down before he exploded.

Someone had almost killed his best friend. Someone had taken aim at (Y/n) and they could have seriously injured or killed her. Where would Evan be if the worst had happened? What would he do without her? How would he cope in a world without (Y/n)?

She was the only constant thing in his life. He saw her every morning without fail, she was the first person he saw when he got up and the last person he saw before he closed his eyes at night. Evan didn't want that to change, not for anything in the world and he didn't want any harm to come to her. She was his roommate, his best friend and she meant more to Evan than anyone else ever had.

He couldn't live without her.

"Are you all sure you're okay?"

A chorus of 'yes' and nodding heads filled the air and Bobby waved his hand at them. They all knew what to do. Go get changed, get themselves a drink and try to calm down while he sorted dinner before the station became flooded with police.

(Y/n) closed her eyes for a few seconds when everyone started to disappear and float around the station.

She didn't now what to do. She wanted to be sick. She wanted to collapse and pass out. Her head was spinning so violently she thought it was going to disconnect from her neck.

"I'm gonna hit the gym."

(Y/n) let her eyes drag over to Evan, wincing at how horrible his voice sounded in her right ear. It sounded like she was submerged underwater, trying to hear things above the surface. It was as if Evan was gurgling water in the back of his throat as he talked and the sounded made (Y/n) cringe. She could feel her head swimming and her ear was pounding and pulsing and throbbing all at once.

She knew what he meant by that. He meant he was going to go into the gym and break the equipment. He had ripped the last punching bag they had at the station after a bad fallout with his parents.

Eddie nodded in agreement and they both turned to start making their way towards the gym. But when Evan looked over his shoulder at (Y/n), it was as if they were having a silent conversation. (Y/n) could feel herself begging him not to leave her alone and his eyes told her he wasn't allowing her out of his sight for more than a few seconds.

That was enough for (Y/n) to follow along behind them. She didn't know what else to do with herself. She could follow the boys and watch them in the gym. It would be better than sitting in the bunker room or upstairs on her own, twiddling her thumbs and she knew if she was alone she was at risk of bursting into tears.

Her hand braced out on the truck and she dragged her fingertips along the red paint, using the truck as leverage to keep herself upright as she began to walk.

She felt dizzy.

When they got into the gym, (Y/n) heaved herself over to a bench and slumped down like all her bones had turned to jelly. She flopped forward and let her arms slump on her legs and hung her head down to see if it would relieve her headache and make her ear stop thudding and ringing like a church bell.

"Are you alright?" Evan's hand found her shoulder with a surprisingly strong grip and he gave her a squeeze to make her look up at him. She was surprised to see he had shed his shirt quickly to leave him in his grey vest and trousers.

"Just shaky,"

(Y/n) let her eyes dance over Evan's frame for a while as he began to abuse the punch bag in the corner. She couldn't hear whatever he and Eddie were talking about. Her right ear was starting to turn numb and the ringing was drowning out everything else. She could only hear through her left ear and it was a horrible feeling to feel as if she were broken and useless on one side.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed in the gym, it could have been a few minutes, it could have been half an hour. All she knew was that after a few minutes, she flopped to lay out on the bench.

Eddie and Evan kept glancing her way every now and then but she still had her eyes open and she tried to smile at them to show she wasn't suddenly going to faint or go unconscious.

"You three, come and get something to eat." Bobby's voice was quiet when he poked his head round the door and waved them over.

(Y/n) realised they must have been in there a while because Evan was drenched in sweat and Bobby had found enough time to make lunch.

Her lips curved into a small, tepid smile when Evan stood in front of her hand held his shaky, sweating palms out towards her. His chest was heaving, his hair was flopping about on his head and sweat trickled down his neck and through to his vest, but he didn't care.

She let her hands slide into his and Evan slowly pulled her up to her feet, but (Y/n)'s smile faded when her head started to swim. Her knees trembled and her head flopped forward. She felt dizzy and sick and feverish all at once. But she tried to push those feelings aside when the three of them headed out the gym and trudged towards the stairs.

None of them had much energy and they all walked at their slowest pace, feeling their motivation slipping away with each passing second. They didn't do this job to get shot at. They were firefighters, they were trying to do some good in the world and help people and look out for everyone. Why did they deserve to be shot at? What had they done to upset someone so much?

The three of them walked in a single file line when they got to the stairs and (Y/n) grabbed the rails with both hands, pushing her weight onto her arms to drag herself up.

But the dizziness was starting to get worse and she could feel her breakfast crawling back up her throat.

Halfway up the stairs was too much for (Y/n). Her head started to loll forwards and a wave of tremors rattled through her limbs while her head pounded. Her eardrum thudded, tears splashed down her face and her head started to split apart like a coconut.

"(Y/n)- hey, what's up, what're you doing?" Panic bubbled up through Evan when he watched (Y/n) suddenly lower herself down onto her knees like she was about to pray here on the stairs.

He moved to crouch down behind her, reaching out to grip her waist while he felt Eddie lean over his shoulder to see why they had all stopped.

When (Y/n) folded her arms on the step in front of her and tried to slump her head onto her arms, Evan gently reeled her back. He muttered a quiet 'come here' as he tilted (Y/n) back into his chest. He hated the way she started to tremble in his arms and the way she hid her face into her hands like she was trying to smother herself. It did nothing to stop him from hearing her begin to cry and it made his heart shatter.

But his brows furrowed and he gently pulled her hands away from her face so he could cup her chin. He tilted her head to the left so she was looking away from him and a growl built up in his chest when he noticed a small trickle of blood slithering down from her ear onto her jaw.

"Okay, up we go. I got you."

Evan held (Y/n)'s wrist and looped her arm around the back of his neck before he cupped his left arm around her waist and slid his right arm beneath her knees. He slowly stood up and waited until (Y/n) smothered her face in his chest before he began walking up the stairs again.

His jaw locked tightly and he tried his best to look ahead and ignore the worried looks he got from the rest of the team who were quietly sat around the dining table.

He moved over to the right and headed over to the sofa, crouching down so he could ease (Y/n) down onto the sofa before he sat down beside her.

(Y/n) curled her arms into her chest and slouched back into Evan when his arm draped around her shoulders. He pressed his lips into her hair and started to glide his other hand up and down her arm until Eddie came back over to them with one of their medical kits in hand.

When Eddie perched down in front of (Y/n), Evan slid his hand up from her shoulder to cup her jaw. (Y/n) opened her eyes wide and tried to control her breathing as she wondered what Evan was trying to do. But he gently used her chin to turn her head until her cheek was pressed into her chest so Eddie could see the blood trickling out of her right ear.

"Can I take a look?"

(Y/n) didn't say anything but the soft look in her eyes told Eddie he could go ahead.

He used a cotton swab to clean away the blood before he shone a light in her ear. His fingertips pressed behind her ear, down her neck and across her jaw to see when she would wince or flinch away from his touch. He then pressed a thermometer under her tongue and flashed the light across her eyes.

"I think the shot burst your eardrum… you were the closest to it. You need to get some antibiotics and go home, it's gonna take a while to heal."

Eddie winced when (Y/n) began to cry and he turned to look over his shoulder and wave Bobby across to them.

There was nothing a doctor could do for (Y/n) except make sure she didn't get it infected. It would heal up on its own within two months, hopefully. (Y/n) would need to rest, take antibiotics and make sure not to get her ear wet at all for a few weeks.

She turned her head further to the side and cried into Evan's chest, shaking harder when she felt his hand slide up from her jaw to tangle in her hair at the back of her head.

"It's okay… shh, it's alright. I'm taking you home."

***

A sigh bubbled past Evan's lips when he shut the front door behind him. He let his shoulders slump down and tilted his head back, closing his eyes when he heard that unmistakeable sound.

(Y/n) was throwing up. Again.

He tossed his keys on the side and headed through into the kitchen, dumping his bag down on the counter before he backtracked and headed over towards the bathroom.

He had never been more pleased that the bathroom in their apartment was downstairs. It meant while (Y/n) was laid up on the couch for the last few days, she didn't have to struggle getting up and down the stairs to rush to the bathroom when she felt sick. But he wished she wasn't throwing up so much. Evan wished she could start to feel better.

For the last four days, he had seen (Y/n) eat two meals a day and proceed to throw all of it back up again. He thought it was too good to be true that she had eaten tea last night and lunch today without being sick.

He tapped his knuckles on the door before he nudged it open and stood in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. He leaned his back up against the door and let his head flop to the right as he looked down at (Y/n).

She was knelt on the floor, hunched over the toilet with her forehead slumped down on her arms.

"I take it you don't feel any better?" He mumbled quietly and raised his brows when (Y/n) turned away from the toilet. She could barely keep her eyes open and a subtle tremble had set in all over her body.

(Y/n) turned on her knees and shuffled over until she could use the sink as leverage to pull herself up. But the moment she was stood up, her legs started to shake and her head rattled like someone was using her head as a bowling ball. Her knees quaked and pressed up against the sink and her hands gripped the edge as she let herself slide down just a little until her head was slumped forward into the bowl.

She tried to rinse her mouth with mouthwash but the sensation made her ear feel like it was popping and drowning in water. She spat it out and cringed, bowing her head even further to stop herself from crying. She had cried enough over the last four days but she couldn't seem to stop.

Her head was pounding unless she was asleep and as much as she tried, (Y/n) couldn't sleep the days away as well as the nights. She hated listening to music or the tv when one ear was working and the other was turned down and noises came through hazy and bubbling. She had to have the tv on volume seven because any louder made her cry.

The shot had unbalanced the fluids in her ears and that was making it hard for (Y/n) to keep her balance and stay upright. She felt like she was always swaying and sliding to one side when she stood upright and every time she tried to move around, she ended up being sick.

"Alright, come here."

Evan cupped his hands over her hips and stood behind her but when he turned her around to face him, he watched her lips fall into a frown and she wouldn't meet his gaze. Her forehead tipped down into his chest and her hands gripped his arms even though she didn't want to.

"You can't carry me everywhere, Evan." (Y/n) didn't want to rely on Evan like this. She didn't want him to have to help her up and down the stairs and make dinner for her when they usually shared the cooking. She didn't like relying on him like this, it wasn't fair.

"Yes I can. You're not well, that means I gotta look after you. So let me."

(Y/n) let herself go limp so Evan could move her easily. He cupped her wrists and lifted her arms to curl them around his neck. Then his hand moved down to hold her chin and he bent his knees to lower himself down so he could rest (Y/n)'s head on his shoulder.

His hands cupped the back of her exposed thighs and he lifted her up with ease, securing her legs around his torso so she was sitting on his hips. He kept one arm around her bum, she was light and easy enough to carry with one arm so he didn't know why she objected so much to him carrying her around. It wasn't like she was forcing him to help her; he wanted to. He was desperate to help her.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and nuzzled her face into Evan's neck, smiling when she felt Evan's lips against the top of her head. Something he had been doing a lot over the last few days.

He headed into the kitchen, grabbed the bag he had come back with and then turned around to go down into the living room.

When he reached the sofa, Evan dug his hand into (Y/n)'s thigh and leaned forward so he could ease her down. He found himself smiling when he watched her curl her knees up to her stomach and saw how she burrowed into the pillows she had collected down here to be more comfortable.

"What's in the bag?" (Y/n) let her head sink into one of the pillows and she bound her arms around her chest, turning to face Evan when he sat down next to her. But he didn't sink back into the seat like he normally would, he sat on the edge of the sofa with his knees bent out to the sides and his elbows on his thighs.

"I got Eddie to grab me a few bits from the station."

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes, about to smile at him until she watched what he started to get out the bag and place down on the coffee table.

"Evan no-"

Her lips pressed together firmly and she leaned back in her seat when he turned to face her. The way he tilted his head to the side and rose a brow made her shiver, but it was his jaw that locked and ground from side to side that made the adrenaline ignite in (Y/n)'s stomach. And when he moved his hand to point a finger at her, she almost gasped.

"Now you listen to me, you're dehydrated and you're still being sick. So you either suck it up and let me help you, or I will carry you to the car and take you down to the emergency room. So which is it sweetheart?"

The pet name rolled off his tongue before he could stop himself or even realise what he had said and it made (Y/n) turn to jelly despite the pain rolling through her head. She loosened her arms from her chest and flopped her arm onto his thigh as a sign of giving in to him.

"Good girl."

Evan picked up one of the two saline bags Eddie had packed for him. He knew (Y/n) would be sick again today, he just had a gut feeling that she wouldn't be able to keep anything down and she hadn't been drinking enough either. So he rang Eddie this morning and asked him to grab a few IV bags from inventory, some stronger pain meds and some supplement sachets.

He knew (Y/n) wouldn't want to go to hospital, it would take a few hours for them to get through the emergency room onto a ward to get any help in the first place. But if he could keep (Y/n) at home with him and help her himself, the Evan would do everything he could for her.

(Y/n) dared to shuffle a bit closer so she could tilt her head forward and press her nose into his arm which made him smile.

He ripped open an antiseptic wipe and dabbed it across the back of (Y/n)'s hand that was stretched out on his thigh. He could feel (Y/n) pressing her face further into his bicep while she closed her eyes. She didn't do well with needles.

"Here we go," He whispered quietly, daring to let his eyes dart over to her for a second before he moved his attention back to her hand.

He slid the needle into the first vein he found and moved to grab the IV cap that he clipped onto the end while (Y/n) groaned and pinched her nails into his thigh. Not that Evan minded at all. Once a bit of tape was stuck over it, he grabbed a roll of bandage and started to wind it around her hand. He knew exactly what she was like. She would scratch and pull and mess with the tube until the needle came out.

Once it was in place, Evan checked the wire was straight and running free before he flipped the cap to let the fluids flush wide open. He wanted the saline in her system as fast as possible because she was dehydrated and she needed a boost.

"Eddie found some painkillers, they should take away your headaches."

"I don't think I can keep them down."

"Ah, no this is the good stuff." Evan flashed the small bottle when (Y/n) turned her head so her cheek was pressed against his shoulder. He told Eddie not to bring tablets because (Y/n) would throw them up.

Evan grabbed a new needle, filled it with the right dosage and injected it into the spare cap on the IV tube. This would go straight into (Y/n)'s system so she wouldn't throw it up and it would help her feel better. He didn't want to see her crying in pain any longer, he just wanted to make her feel better.

"Thank you." (Y/n) left her bandaged hand on Evan's lap but she moved her right hand to curl around his arm she was leaning against. Her lips pressed to his shoulder and she smiled against his skin until she looked up and realised he looked perplexed.

"You don't need to thank me."

"Evan, you've been looking after me-"

"I look after you because I want to, but I wouldn't need to if some fucker didn't try and take a shot at you. He nearly killed you and I can't… I can't lose you."

Evan slumped back against the sofa and reached his free hand to tangle through his hair. He let his body slouch down and tipped his head back on the cushion to stare up at the ceiling. He wouldn't be taking care of (Y/n) like this if he didn't want to, he would do anything for her. But he would rather be taking care of her when she was sick from a cold or an illness. Not because someone thought they had the right to try and shoot them.

If things had been different, a few seconds later, if (Y/n) didn't move at the right time or if she was a little slower. If that gun had been aimed more to the left, she would be in a coffin right now and Evan would be inconsolable.

"You won't lose me, Evan. I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here," (Y/n) dared to move her hand up from his arm to brush her thumb across his chin. She tilted his head so he was looking at her, so he could see her smile and know that she was here. She wasn't going anywhere. She had a lucky escape five days ago but nothing like that would happen again.

Her fingers tickled the side of his jaw, feathering up and down until he was shuddering beneath her gentle touch. The more her fingers grazed his skin, the less resolve Evan had until he finally broke and pushed forward.

His hand cupped her jaw and skimmed across her neck before he leaned across and kissed her.

He'd dreamed about doing this.

She was his best friend. She was his roommate. She was his partner on the job. But Evan wanted her to be so much more. Evan wanted (Y/n) to be everything in the world to him, his friend, the one he lived with, the girl he kissed and came home to every night. Because she already held his heart in her hands and he never wanted it back.

He pulled her lower lip between his teeth and drank her in, panting against her lips until he was seeing stars and the ringing in (Y/n)'s ears drowned out into nothing but background noise.

He felt her hand move around from his jaw to loop around his neck while her other hand shifted up from his thigh to rest on his chest so she could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Evan slipped his hands down until his fingers could slide beneath her legs and grip the back of her bare thighs were her pyjama shorts had ridden up her legs. He lifted her thighs up and dragged her across the small distance between them that felt like an ocean was keeping them apart. He pulled until her knees were clamped down on either side of his hips and she sank back on his thighs.

And when (Y/n) pulled back to try and gasp for air, Evan cupped her wrist and moved her hand up from his chest to loop it around the back of his neck. Along with the IV tube so he didn't squeeze it and stop the fluids from getting into her system.

His hand moved around to hold the back of her neck while his other hand shifted up from her thigh to grab her bum. He kept her leaning down on his chest and he smiled when he looked up and saw a dazed look in her hooded eyes.

(Y/n) scratched her nails against the short hairs at the back of his neck until Evan was clenching his jaw and he pulled her back down onto him.

(Y/n) could feel herself going lightheaded again, especially when Evan seemed to draw all the air out of her lungs and gulp it down for himself. His warm lips smothered hers and bit her lower lip until he was going to leave a bruise in his wake, but (Y/n) didn't care. She didn't want him to stop. She could feel him muttering something against her mouth but he spoke far too quietly for her to hear.

"Hm?"

"You're right. You're not going anywhere."

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Oh Oh what about 'H-how long have you been standing there?' Canon(-adjacent) Hurt/Comfort and Book? this list is actually so interesting there's so many good combinations

Thank you so much, it's been lots of fun seeing which combinations ppl picked and coming up with different story ideas. Hope you enjoy this one. 💖

True love's kiss

Rated: G

Words: 995

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson; Steve has migraines; Hurt/comfort; Love confessions

Eddie finds out by accident. It's one of the last days of summer, and the air has a sticky heaviness to it. He just wants to pick up some stuff he forgot after last night's campaign. Steve isn’t home, he knows for a fact. So what if he memorized his shift plan? It's perfectly normal, most definitely not a sign of obsession or codependency. 

Anyway, the point is, Steve isn't home, so Eddie doesn't ring, just lets himself in and marches into the living room. And that's where his plans for the afternoon derail. 

Steve is on the sofa in front of the television. Eddie's swoop of surprise is short-lived, however, because he isn't watching a movie or game. 

The tv isn't on at all. The entire house is deadly quiet. The blinds on the windows are drawn and the air conditioning is on, the room dark and cold.

Steve is buried in the pillows. His shoulders are shaking. 

“Stevie?” Eddie blurts. “What happened?” 

“Eddie?” Steve croaks. One eye pokes out from the pillows, bleary and horrified. “I- … H-how long have you been standing there?” 

Eddie doesn’t answer. He has already bridged the distance and is sinking down on the armrest by Steve’s head.

Steve sees the concern on his face and groans. “I'm fine. It's just … fucking headaches, don't worry.” 

But Eddie does worry. Eddie is freaking out, which is only natural given their shared history. He makes a horrified sound, shooting up to grab the walkie from Steve’s room and call a code red. 

“No, wait,” Steve says, holding him back with one shaky hand to his wrist. “‘s not anything supernatural. I mean they’ve gotten worse, after everything, but that's probably ‘cause I took a few hits too many. I've always had ‘em. Ever since I was a kid.” 

Eddie lets that statement trickle in. 

“Oh,” he then breathes, sitting back down and gesturing at the dark room. “You mean migraines?” 

Steve, who has thrown one arm over his face, peers out at him. 

“How d’you …?” 

Eddie shrugs sheepishly. “My mom used to get them, before …” 

He trails off, lost in the memory, fingers grasping to fiddle with something. He only realizes where they've landed when they start scratching at Steve's scalp, and a noise spills from his chest. Eddie flinches, stomach alive with an entire whirlwind of butterfly wings, and makes to pull back his hand. 

“No,” Steve mumbles. He's pale, but some of the tension has bled from his features. His voice is slurred. “Don't stop. Feels good.” 

And who is Eddie to deny him? 

Nodding, he slides off the armrest to sit more comfortably, pulling Steve’s head into his lap to rub soothing circles into his temples. He only notices the book lying on Steve’s stomach when it gets jostled by the motion and almost tumbles to the floor. 

“Hey, what’s this?” Eddie mutters, flipping it over to inspect the cover. “Fairytales?” 

Steve takes a few moments to reply, and in the low light, Eddie imagines he sees two pink splotches bloom high in his cheekbones. 

“My nanny used to read ‘em to me when I was sick. I was tryna, but … the fuckin’ letters keep moving.” 

“I'll read you one.” 

Another blink of those pretty eyes, pupils fuzzy and unfocused. “Really?” 

“Sure,” Eddie nods, reveling in the smile he gets when he flips the book open. “Let’s see … Once upon a time, there was a king. He was beautiful and kind and brave, and everybody in the realm loved him dearly. But the king was cursed. He-”

“Wait,” Steve mutters. His lids flutter as he struggles to stay awake. “I don’t- … Which one is this?” 

“My favorite,” Eddie replies. “Now hush, you’re supposed to be resting. Where was I? … The king had been befallen by an evil curse. He couldn’t love himself. He slaughtered many a beast, fought countless battles, hoping to prove his own worth to himself, but nothing lifted the shadow looming over him.” 

Eddie turns a page, crinkling his brow in thought. 

Steve stifles a yawn. His head is getting heavier in Eddie’s lap. “Then what happened?” 

“Patience, I was getting to it,” Eddie scolds. “One day, a new jester arrived at the court. He was skeptical, having heard grand tales of the young king’s beauty and good heart, never quite believing them. Yet, the second he beheld the king with his own eyes, he was enraptured, and he vowed to-”  

“En-whatchered?” 

“Enraptured, Stevie,” Eddie sighs, setting the book aside in favor of combing his fingers through Steve’s hair again. “Smitten, enchanted, lovestruck.” 

“Pffff,” Steve makes. “Love at first sight ain't real.” 

Eddie scoffs half-heartedly. “It's a fairytale. It's not supposed to be realistic. And besides, I'm only telling it, not making it up.” 

“Oh yeah,” Steve says. If his eyes were open, he'd be rolling them right now. “Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Eddie agrees, and losing himself for a moment in the lines and angles of Steve’s face, the feel of his hair between his fingers. 

“How does it end?” 

Eddie blinks. “Huh?” 

“The story, silly,” Steve mutters. “How does the jester save the king?”  

“Who said he does?” 

Steve sighs, satisfied and exhausted. “‘s a fairytale. Gotta have a happy ending.” 

Eddie shrugs. “Fair enough. What d’you think he should do?” 

Steve stays silent for a long moment. Eddie is starting to think he fell asleep when he speaks again, so softly it's nearly lost under the rush of the air conditioning. 

“How ‘bout a kiss?” 

“Ah,” Eddie says around the lump forming in his throat. “Good one. Can't go wrong with true love's kiss.” 

Steve hums in agreement. 

“After the king sleeps, though.” His hand finds Eddie’s, interlacing their fingers. “Waited so long for this. Wanna do it without a headache.” 

Eddie is left in the dark, listening as Steve’s breathing evens out, wondering how much of their conversation he'll recall when he wakes up. 

More celebration ficlets

[delfiore]

—MONTAUK.

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

synopsis: you remember how it used to be whilst dealing with how it is now.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: alexia baby come home the kids miss you 🥲 this was the clairo - bags fic i promised months ago but now the premise feels completely different and i've changed the title also lol. a lot happens to one's state of mind in 3 months.

After.

Under normal circumstances—as much as normal was nowadays—the silence in the apartment would feel like a blanket of comfort. It meant you were having a rest from your hectic days training and playing matches, it meant you could finally relax with the love of your life; it meant peace.

Now, the silence was deadly. It was sucking up the life in every room in this apartment, and it was draining the life out of you too.

The door clicked, and you shifted in your spot on the couch, quickly shutting off your phone on which you had bullet points typed out in the Notes app—bullet points of things you wanted—needed—to say, to lessen this inevitable pain. You cracked a smile when you heard tiny feet pattering on the floor, just as the little Pomeranian came to greet you with loving licks.

Nala was oblivious to the cracks that had been forming in her home, that have been left unamended for too long with the thinking that they would go away with time. You dreaded thinking of the day when the little pup came home from a walk and you weren’t there anymore. Would she miss you? How long until she starts to forget you?

“I got us dinner.”

“Cool,” you said, breathing in deeply. “You wanna eat now, or . . . ?”

“Sure.”

You helped her unpack the food without another word, the only sound heard was the clanking of plates as you pulled them out of the cupboard and set them on the kitchen island.

Alexia didn’t say anything either, just gingerly put the food on the plates. You felt her stiffen slightly as you walked towards her and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder.

She offered you a small smile—a forced smile—and brought the food to the table.

You cursed yourself and wished you hadn’t done it.

Before.

“And that concludes the tour of our facilities. Any questions?”

“No, I’m good.” You were way too excited to think about anything else other than the Barcelona crest on your chest.

“Great. Then, how about we go meet your future teammates? Some of them should be in the weight room.”

Patri greeted you initially, first in Spanish, then in English once she realized you weren’t catching on. Jana and Salma followed suit with friendly handshakes and quick hugs. It left the captain to be the last. And there she was; la Reina herself.

You were surprised to find that she was rubbing her hands together, waiting for her turn, almost like she was nervous. As you came to know her, you understood that she was in fact nervous when meeting new people, a polar opposite to the confident leader she was on the pitch.

But you saw the way her hazel eyes fixed on you, and as you approached her, a lingering smile played on her lips. Your heart suddenly leaped in your chest, and your cheeks felt embarrassingly warm, which you hoped she didn’t see.

You had admired her from afar, looking up to her as a role model in the game, but now that you were seeing her up close, something stirred inside you. There was something so endearing about Alexia’s shyness where you had expected assertiveness. It made her feel more down-to-earth, more like your teammate rather than a mythical figure up on a pedestal. One look at her and you understood why people had talked so highly of her—how could they not?

Extending a hand towards her, you had made your greeting, but she pulled you in for a firm and generous hug.

And that’s how they started—the butterflies, the attraction, the yearning—and they never went away.

After.

You decided that you were going to do it after dinner. Doing it during dinner is just tacky and downright disrespectful. You’d hate to be crying into your takeout after telling your girlfriend you wanted to break up.

When you snapped out of your train of thought, you realized that it was way too quiet. Alexia was eating on the other side of the table, scrolling through her phone as she did.

“Did you see Claudia’s banger of a free kick today?” You asked, smiling slightly.

Alexia looked up briefly from her phone. “Si. Really good.”

A curt answer. You nodded, and silence ensued again.

You didn’t talk to Alexia much these days. You used to be able to talk to her about anything, even in the beginning when the both of you were still testing the waters to see where you stood. When did it become like this?

Before.

Practice was going swimmingly. You found yourself catching on quickly with the rest of your teammates. Alexia has made it her mission as captain to make you feel welcome. “Anything you need, ask me,” she would say in English. You wanted to, but every time you thought about talking to her, your hands would sweat and you needed to practice what you were going to say to her. You weren’t scared that she wasn’t going to understand you, but because you knew you’d make a fool out of yourself tripping over your words.

“Hey, Alexia,” you said after practice, “I don’t know the city that well, and—well—since you do, would you be willing to show me around?”

“Si, claro.” She answered and looked around the field. “Maybe I can ask some of the girls to come with? They might know things to do that I don’t.”

Later she would explain to you that she panicked and that she knew she would be weird about it, thinking it was a date when it really was just a little outing between teammates. You wished she had treated it like a date, though, and was slightly disappointed when she mentioned bringing your teammates. Still, you had a great time watching Mapi banter with Lucy and Mariona while Alexia played the role of the disappointing mom trying to restrain her children.

You were grinning thinking back on the day when you came home. Her bashful smile after she offered to drive you home was so unlike anything you had pictured in your head before coming to Barcelona. You loved her calm nature, something that made her such a reliable captain, but also an endearing human being.

After.

You stayed seated by the dinner table and you watched her load the dishes in the washer. The scene was void of music that she would sway her hips to or a hearty conversation about a random fact she learned from one of your teammates. Now it was just robotic, lifeless movements, and your heart squeezed at the thought of what it used to be.

The end is near.

Somewhere, somehow, you gathered the courage to speak up. “Wanna watch a movie?”

And to your surprise, she turned around and said, “Sure.”

For a second, you let yourself hope that there was still something salvageable from this ruin. Then you realized that you had been here many times before, and everything accumulated and led you here to this moment.

Before.

“Really?! You’ve never seen Mean Girls?”

Alexia shook her head and chuckled. “I didn’t watch a lot of movies, Y/N. Growing up, all I had time for was football.”

“Yeah, but . . . I mean, it’s Mean Girls. That’s just a crime,” you clicked your tongue. “We’ll have to catch you up on all the classics.”

The discussion had been prompted by the imminent movie night at one of your teammates’ places. The movie of choice was Mamma Mia!, and you had been most excited to rewatch it. You and Alexia arrived together after an outing in town, and since you did so late, you both were in charge of stocking up the snacks.

“And by that, I hope you mean . . . you and me,” Alexia stuttered, leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for you to fill your bowl with popcorn.

Your lips curved up. “Yes, I mean me and you. Just me and you.”

Your captain grinned too, like a devious little kid. “Good. Just making sure.”

“¿Qué diablos está tardando tanto? (What the hell is taking so long?)” Patri called from the living room. “¡Más te vale no estar besándote en mi cocina! (You better not be making out in my kitchen!)”

You let out a surprised laugh, as Alexia cursed under her breath, wishing silently that the girls in the living room would just shut up and stop snickering. Once the bowls in your hands were filled to the brim, you turned to her with a knowing look.

“I wouldn’t have minded, you know.”

“Mind what?”

“If we were making out,” you said before leaving Alexia in the kitchen to soak in your words.

She found a seat next to you after taking a minute to calm her racing heart so that you wouldn’t notice how crazy you drove her. She felt like a teenage girl having a silly crush, but there was nothing silly about the way you looked at her. And when you put your head on her shoulder midway through the movie, she knew she was gone. Patri saw it too across the couch apparently, and her knowing grin made Alexia want to bury herself inside a hole. While she wasn’t particularly into romcoms, she was already looking forward to watching Mean Girls with you, her fleeting heart hammering in its cage at the thought of getting you alone again.

After.

The silence was deafening. You didn’t dare to look over to Alexia to gauge her reaction. The screen continued to play the movie, blissfully unaware of an earthquake that had suddenly roared to life in the space on the couch between you and Alexia.

You swallowed. She hasn’t spoken for hours.

Then, she turned to you and said, “Okay.”

Okay.

You drew a sharp breath and nodded with finality. “Okay.”

The movie was still playing, though. It was one of your favorites, but it made you cry every time you watched it because you were so touched by the story and its main characters. It was about a man—grief-stricken with the loss of his relationship—who decides to get his memories of his girlfriend wiped, but during the process, he relives everything he shared with her and slowly rues his decision. You used to enjoy it because their story was fictional, but now it all felt like one big joke, like you were one of the characters in the movie, inching towards a certain endgame that you couldn’t escape.

You wondered if there were a different script written out for you and Alexia.

“Let’s finish the movie though, yeah?” She said, finally looking over to you.

You hadn’t expected that look on her face when you looked back at her—it was something almost like desperation.

Like it meant something to her.

You nodded. It was the least you could do after dumping her. What kindness, after the neglect she had shown you, what kindness.

Before.

Alexia was shaking when she brought the two glasses of wine out to her living room, where you sat. Nala, the ever-excited little puppy that she was, followed her like a personal little cloud.

“I heard it was going to be a sad movie, so wine it is.” She said, handing you your glasses.

“It’s a cult classic, trust me. It’s one of my favorite movies ever.”

“Well, I liked Mean Girls, so I trust you.” The truth was, she would have watched any movie with you, as long as it was with you.

You were right, it was quite sad. When she looked over midway through the movie, she could see a glossy streak running down your face. You laughed it off and wiped your tears away, embarrassed that you had cried in front of her, but Alexia thought you were the prettiest.

With feather-light touches, she reached over and brushed the tip of her fingers over your cheekbone. She knew there was no going back if she went ahead with this. She wondered if there was a script written out for you and her already, and she was just following it on its path.

Her lips brushed against yours softly, and only once she felt that you started to kiss her back was she brave enough to put her hand around your waist and pull you closer.

You were grinning so wide when she pulled away, that she thought it might have been a prank and you were somehow in on it. But you put your arms around her neck and pecked her lips again.

Whatever script it was, Alexia was sure it would be one of fairy tale endings and happily ever after, because that is what you believe when you’re in love.

a/n: the movie is eternal sunshine of the spotless mind btw. made me ugly cry.

[singukieee]

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 4) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ curator's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

Stay by OT7oramI

Y/N and her hybrid best friend, Jin, have known each other since Jin was eight years old and came to live with Y/N and her family. Throughout the years, Y/N and Jin have grown closer but there is one major secret between them. When an injured hybrid comes into Cherry Blossom Sanctuary where they both work, the secret is revealed. What will become of the friendship between Y/N and Jin when others are added to it?

Storms of Fate by SumiSG7

A darkly forbidden Auction in the veils of night catering to the morbid appetites of the wealthy in a world of legalized slave hybrids. Results in A melody of storm uniting the fates of a powerful Heiress with 7 mysteriously seductive & deadly hybrids The dark spiralling descent into the fever of passion & longing entwining their hungers while being targeted by an unknown enemy. What will be the result of the lethal games to Anya & the hybrids caught in a velvety prison of their own cravings for each other. But slowly, the realization trickled in… All was not normal as it should be, the love they forged, was a test of devotion that was still withstanding the time since before time began…

🗯️ too freaking good... but also really dark and sometimes sweet. I don't think I've ever read an ff as well-written as this one. plot's insane too. (this is actually a whole universe with side stories that you would be told to read along the way to understand the lore, so good it's crazy that it's free)

Sweet as Honey by sugakookie98

In a time where omegas are increasingly rare, others constantly question your resistance to find a mate. No one seemed to understand that you were content to stay in your comfort zone, focusing solely on your job. However, a series of unexpected events set your quiet world into motion, making you question your outlook on life and on mating bonds.

🗯️ another Idk what to say but it's really good

The Butterfly Effect by themonsterteddy

Easily attached hybrids get adopted into a family. Lei, the protagonist, is the quietest member of the family. Follow them to explore the lovely bond developing between them.

🗯️ a super warm read <3

The Butterseries by @minniepetals

Their names alone had every men and women turning their heads and falling at their feet. successful, prestigious, handsome, rich, and untouchable to anyone that looked their way. and you? you were just an employee who worked for them. who would’ve known you meant so much more to them than you could ever imagine?

The Byeoljali series by LittleShyGirl

❶ Finding A Place

As an isolated, lonely omega raised by humans, you have little understanding of how other wolves live. When you take a promotion to become a member of the BTS staff, your world collides with the Bangtan Pack and you realise you have a lot to learn.

❷ Making A Home

Now that she's found where she belongs, follow Y/N as she learns how to truly be a part of the Bangtan Pack.

The Companion by MoonChild791

After being fired, the job of a lifetime lands in your lap. You up root your life and moved to Seoul, only to find out you'll be working with your favorite group, BTS. Slowly, you start to develop feelings for them. But that's crazy, right? You can't have feelings for all seven of them, it would never work out.....would it?

The Contract by namjuicyy

Your life is turned upside down when a contract is pushed your way. But what happens if you sign it?

The Last Lycans by RoxNotRocks

Sometimes, a fateful encounter takes the form of a bullet through the head… After years of living as a wolf, alone in the wild, Yu has no memory of her past and no idea what her true nature is. As she attempts to begin anew and discovers that her fate doesn't have to be a lonely one, her lost secret comes back to haunt her. When your past comes back with a vengeance, should you flee, or fight?

The Line Between Love and War by @purpleyoonn

Your experiences told you that soulmates were something you would never have the pleasure of having; something not given to you because of who you are, despite the soulmark that resides on your inner left wrist. During your solo trip to Los Angeles, you find out that you are more than capable, that your soulmates had been waiting for you for a long time, and would not be letting you go anytime soon.

The Little Fox by @purpleyoonn

“The idea of being free was a foreign concept. Being free meant having choices, having opportunities. Being a hybrid meant never being free.” Just as you escaped the Little Fox, a bidding house, you find yourself at war with your thoughts, not wanting to go to another shelter. You didn’t expect yourself to find a home anywhere, especially not with the men who found you, and their pack.

The Pictures That Talk by @imnotlauriane

In a world where everyone has a special ability, mine is giving life to pictures. It allows me to see what happened behind the camera, reliving the moment when it was taken, as the subject. It's something I really cherish, but it can also come with great pain, so it's to be used carefully. I look at my finger, rings of fate black and cold. And I wonder, will I ever meet my soulmates?

The Seven by chewymilkyoda

When a young 17 year old girl and her friend went to an empty mansion that is reported as 'haunted', she never knew that her life would changed when she accidentally woke up 7 dangerous vampires that has been asleep for centuries. And boy is she in for a long-ass ride of fantasy shit that she never even knew about.

The Seven Princes by wassap_its_hunter

Being known as Nyx, you never had an easy life. With the expectations of being the world's best-renowned assassin and hunter, protector of your people, and a babysitter of five children, you can't really expect to have time in your hands to relax, the world being run by werewolves, witches, vampires, mermaids and more. But now, another role has been added. After hearing the princes of the biggest empire in the world, the Asian Kingdom, say the word "mate", you're scared for what is about to come. But then again you're Nyx, one of the very few humans that survived and became known, you could take a challenge like that.

🗯️ mc is so cool and the boys are whipped. my favourite.

The Seven Red Flags of HAKON University by tinyeyecat / emi ree

Born in the hell hole of Space Port 69, Rue’s a human Omega desperate to leave the alien whore house she calls home. Defying all odds, she masquerades as an Alpha and obtains a scholarship to the Ivy League of all space institutions. HAKON University is an all-male school that trains the cream of the crop—future leaders of the galaxies. Rue's just here to graduate, pretend to have a dick and then flee into the workforce, that is until the legendary Bangtan pack sets their eyes on her. They’re the future emperors—aliens with godlike abilities that make them rulers of their species. But with excessive power comes the price of testosterone-fuelled insanity that cannot be soothed. An esper will always need his guide. They’ve been searching for a final member to quell their raging soul-an eighth to complete their pack. Millions have tried for a taste of the peak, but none have succeeded, and thousands die from their power unable to withstand the bond. Bangtan doesn’t chase their prey, they don’t have to, but this time the seven Alphas want Rue.

🗯️ it's emi ree so it's gonna be insane!

The Siren's Song by PurpleQueenie

Modern day Seoul and myths don't go along hand in hand as easily as one might think. When for centuries (Y/N) has been bound to the Ocean, serving her duty as a siren- waiting for the day when it'll finally end, who knew stumbling across seven different souls would've been the reasons she needed to start living again, feeling again- even if it meant losing herself in the process.

🗯️ this might be my ultimate fave among queenie's stories. it's just soo good. mc who became the best version of herself after meeting the boys who support her despite the villain's constant torture. also, mc is just so full of life despite the ... it's amazing, go read it!

Through Her Eyes series by Gigi_Luv_4u

❶ Through Her Eyes

In the world of soulmates, perhaps Daun is the only one who does not expect for any soulmate to come. She doesn't have the soul marks that everyone supposed to have. Not one ink on her skin, no time marks on her wrists, no glowing red strings... but why does one day, seven gorgeous men claims to be her soulmate? And these seven are none other than the greatest boy band in the world?

❷ Through Her Eyes: Eternal

Multiples puffing out to the open has been on the news, but not as often as Daun with her seven. Now, more than ever, people have made their lives more than just a curious entertainment. Snippets of their married lives have become great treasures of inspirations that the entire world would simultaneously coo. No one can't blame them with how adorable they have cultivated their marriage to an inspiring one. Not to mention with the new additional members that surely adds more life to their already dynamic universe. Or… How does a family of Multiples go through their lives?

To Be, Or Not To Be Your Omega by Anonymous

Which would be harder? To be an Omega in an Alpha's world, or to have to play Omega to a pack of Alpha's that's known across the WHOLE world? As if disguising your gender truth isn't hard enough, how many omegas can say they have seven alphas that want to claim them? That went to the trouble of drafting up an overly generous contract just to have you as their omega? Oh, why did they have to find out your truth? Maybe it won't be so bad to be theirs, even if it's only by contract? After all, they're all so handsome, and smell so good, and— Is it wrong to have your inner omega cooing at the idea that this could become more than just your Omega status being taken advantage of like it's been all over the world?

To Be, or Not To Be Your Omega REBOOT by Anonymous

What would you do if you suddenly found yourself playing Omega to not just one, but seven world-renowned Alphas? Your struggle to conceal your true gender pales in comparison to this new challenge. These Alphas want to claim you. They've gone so far as to draft an outrageously generous contract just to have you as their Omega. But as your scent betrays your truth, you're left wondering: why did they have to find out? As you contemplate your fate, you can't help but think – maybe being theirs wouldn't be so bad, even if it's just by contract? After all, they're devastatingly handsome, their scents intoxicating, and... wait, is your inner Omega actually cooing at the idea? You've spent your life seeing Omegas taken advantage of across the world. Could this be different? Could this become more than just another power play? In this story, you'll navigate a world of primal instincts, hidden truths, and unexpected desires. Are you ready to step into the shoes of an Omega on the brink of a life-changing decisions?

Trouvaille by @spookyserenades

In a world where hybrids are both the hottest commodity and largely exploited, a recent shortage of hybrids nationwide due to the wealthy adopting for sport hunting dominates the news headlines. More than ever, stray hybrids are whisked off the streets and taken into shelters to meet the demand. Mistreated, neglected, forgotten – in a notoriously disreputable hybrid shelter in a pocket of downtown Boston, seven “aggressive” hybrids await their inevitable fate of being sold for sport.

After years of trying to distance herself from her mystical past and upbringing, Y/N finds herself quitting her emotionally-draining job and is forced to face past mistakes. While accompanying her friends looking to adopt a child hybrid into their newly-formed family, Y/N inadvertently finds herself face-to-face with seven hybrids doomed to die. In a spur of the moment epiphany, Y/N decides to change the course of fate for the better; though bringing seven aggressive hybrids into her life and the darkening spiritual energy of her old home is trickier to navigate than she originally thought.

🗯️ I really appreciate the length of every chapter. like, so much details put into each and every chapter, and each chapter it just gets better and better.

Until The Last Star Falls by Lov3Mochi / @minniepetals

It was a love you knew would never make it out alive without sacrificing a part of your happiness to receive a greater happiness. but for them, you’d go to any extreme to have them again, and for you, they will always remind you each day that you are theirs and that nothing can tear you apart, not even until the last star falls.

🗯️ so freaking good! a painful journey of love, full of longing and sacrifice.

You Never Walk Alone by @agustdakasuga

You live a quiet life in your late grandfather’s cabin in the woods. You go to school just to graduate and get your diploma, not to make friends or stand out from the crowd. That was until one day, you enter your home to see a pack of wolves that need shelter.

사람 (People) by thearmyprof

You are preparing to move across the Pacific Ocean and start a new chapter in your life, when a chance meeting with a man in a coffee shop has you questioning the timing of everything in the universe. When you hit it off on your first date, little do you know that the man you’ve already fallen head over heels for is, in fact, a member of BTS.

🗯️ this story doesn't include any insane themes, but so enjoyable and heartwarming. the characters also feel human, well-written.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | NAVI