#this is a frustrating week and I fucking hate rich people

[nevoadecaipora]

.

[lovezbrownies]

Alright, then I'd like to request Yandere Bully.

So, for info. The bully is a girl—let's call this maniac, Lauren—she's 18, and goes to school with her darling, who is the same age. She's blonde, rich, tall, popular, and athletic. She bullies her darling, but deep down she's obsessed with them.

Scenario: How does she react when darling finally snaps, punching her?

Punch me again. (Yan!Bully X GN!Reader.)

You're a genius anon.....

Masterlist.

Synopsis: Lauren's agonized you for years but what happens when her meek servant fights back?

Lauren McCanister x GN!Reader.

Warnings: Bullying, verbal abuse (?), physical harassment, sadism masochism combo, Lauren's horny at the end, lots of yelling, no use of y/n.

As far as you could tell, Lauren’s ‘hated’ you since she’s known you. She’s been tormenting you since middle school and it’s just been getting worse since junior year of high school. Today, like every other day, Lauren had pulled you into the nearest bathroom, pushing you until your back hit the wall, she would lean over you and verbally abuse you before pinching either your upper arm or your upper thigh, even going as far as biting you on your neck or shoulder when she’s frustrated. No matter how hard you fight back she would not budge, she overpowered you with her height and athleticism.

That was a part of your daily routine at this point. The worst part of it all is that she’s completely invaded your personal life. Your parents love her, she’s your stupid neighbor, she loves to visit you at your part-time job, and she’s somehow always in your classes. You’ve barely been able to keep it together lately, but you had to. You’ve only got 2 months of senior year before you can finally move out of your town and into whatever small dingy apartment that you can afford from your savings. 

The past few weeks were torturous for you. Every day, without fail, Lauren would corner you, verbally abuse you, spit on your face, and even scratch you with her medium-sized manicured nails. She just would not stop asking so many questions, becoming furious when you refused to answer, and what’s worse is she always knew when you were lying, and would punish you accordingly. 

You snap out of your thoughts, and a sultry voice laughs from above you, “You better say the truth this time, baby. When are you moving? And where the fuck are you moving to.” Lauren’s been harassing you more lately, all of that just to know where you’re going for university. You haven’t told her, you refuse to. If another year of your life is turned into hell by Lauren McCanister one more time you might just lose it.

You kept looking down, at the dirty bathroom floors. Her leg is in its usual spot, between your own, one of her arms help her lean against the wall while the other rests on your hip. On the other hand you kept all external organs to yourself. “Come on… Don’t you want to brag about how smart you are? How you got into some fuckass Ivory Uni? Don’t ya? You can tell me sweetheart… I’ll let everyone know how much of a nerd fucking loser you are.” Lauren’s hand kept rubbing your hip, sometimes lowering her hand down to pinch a bit of your thigh.

You didn’t want to. No, if you told her she’d follow after you, you don't know why she’s so set on making your life hell but you wanted none of it. “I… I’m going to Prince Holand…” You respond, as meek as possible. Just how Lauren likes it. Prince Holand University is not luxurious at all, it’s the community college closest to your town. The actual university you’re going to is on the other side of the country, Xelera’s People University. One of the most luxurious universities, and you managed to get a full-ride scholarship in XPU. Lauren was definitely your motivation to study so hard, not because she’s your cheerleader, but because you wanted to be as far away from her as possible.

Lauren knows. She knows you’re lying to her face, you’ve been lying this entire time. She’s been asking the same question for days now, and every single time without fail you lie to her. Lauren kept giving you chances to fortify your mistake, tell her the truth, and finally confess how much you love her. But time and time again you lied, you told the entire school the same thing too. But Lauren knows you’re going to XPU. Of course she does she had tapped into all your devices and watched you obsessively through the cameras she had installed in your home.

Lauren’s also been accepted, but mostly due to her mother’s influence as well as paying the school to accept her. She will go to the ends of the world to make sure no one ever likes you, and that you never end up with someone else other than her and that includes spending millions for a year’s tuition. It's not like it’d make a dent in her bank account. Lauren’s just as smart as her mother, who’s a world-renowned scientist who has studied many things, but her mother’s most influential project was “Asexual Reproduction of Sentient Beings through Magic.” A project that changed many lives and nearly doubled the population. That is exactly how Lauren was brought to life.

So far everything’s worked. Lauren’s completely isolated you from the rest of the town through baseless untrue rumours, then she completely invaded your life and spent most of her time with you. Lauren likes to bully you. She loves how you react to her harsh words and pinches, but often times takes it too far, much like she is about to today.

“You fucking liar! If you don’t tell the damn truth NOW! I will hunt down everyone you love and kill them. I will find out where you’re going and I will follow you. You… YOU UGRATEFUL ASSHOLE!! DON’T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I’VE DONE TO KEEP YOU TO MYSELF!?!” Lauren yelled out, punching her fist onto the wall next to your head. Shocked, you look up at the seething beast. Her eyes filled with rage, her nose scrunched up in disgust and her lips frowning. 

For the first time since she’s corned you today, your eyes met with her own. You can tell how they softened ever so slightly, looking at how fearful you look right now. But of course, her anger takes over her, why wouldn’t you tell her the truth! Lauren’s the only person you even speak to! You should be deeply in love with her! Much like she is with you…

Lauren suddenly grabs your shoulders, harshly shoving you to the wall causing your head to smack against it. She didn’t mean to. It’s like the smack to the head had awakened something in you because you somehow managed to push her toned body away, a hand touching the area where your head had collided with the wall, pulling it back you saw blood all over your hands. She’s so sorry.

Lauren shocked with the sudden show of strength locked eyes with you, you looked so angry yet so afraid. No, look at me with love please. She froze as you yelled, how strong your voice is, she never heard your voice like that before. She would love to hear you yell in pleasure. “What the fuck!? What the fuck is wrong with you, Lauren!?!” Say it again, say my name again. “What do you want from me?!? I was your loyal servant this entire time and never uttered a word!! I want to be left alone! Do you understand?” No, you don’t mean that.

You continue, all the pent-up frustration finally coming out. “I don’t know why you have this sick demented obsession with me but I want out! Everyone likes you but what they don’t know is that you’re worse than all the rumors you made up about me!” I don’t care about them, only you. “From now on, leave me out of whatever sadistic kink you’re into! I hate you and everything about you, you- you cunt!” And with all your might you fully punched her, albeit a weak punch due to your injury, but it was still a punch. Ohhh…

Lauren watched on as you stormed out of the bathroom, hand holding onto your head. You look so dizzy she should go and help you right? But… She can’t. After being punched by you she felt rather… aroused. Of course, you turn her on all the time but this time… All the yelling and degrading things you screamed at her made her feel different than usual, but then that punch. Lauren had never thought she’d be into it but she wanted to grab you, beg you to do it again, do it until you’re satisfied. Your satisfaction is her pleasure after all, and as it turns out her pleasure is degradation. 

A sick and twisted smile came upon her face. She wants you so badly. This little game of yours awakened the beast Lauren never knew she had. And she’ll show you how much you mean to her, she’ll still bully you– that’s a no-brainer– but she’ll send over many gifts, from flowers to sex toys, acting as if she’s a secret admirer. Please use those sex toys while she watches through the cameras, dear.

[ltbarnes]

Back to December (2/2)

Summary: Your new job as an assistant for the CEO of a big, shiny company was supposed to be a good thing. Instead your ex from uni who completely ghosted you out of nowhere several years ago happens to be one of your superiors. It doesn’t help that he’s only gotten more handsome over the years. But you hate him for leaving without an explanation, and he seems to hate you too. Everything is just fucking great.

Pairing: ex!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Word count: 7k

Warnings: OFFICE AU (Ghost is not ceo but he’s up there in the company somewhere), exes to enemies to lovers, harassment, past emotional violence/threats, blood, smut (p in v), oral (f receiving)

A/N: Took me a few weeks but it’s finally here ;) you guys don’t understand how happy it made me when so many people loved the last part!! makes me so excited to write more for the cod fandom! (I have not proofread this because I was too excited to publish it so there might be errors and weird stuff lol)

Part 1

Masterlist

The car ride is quiet. He glances your way whenever you wince. You watch his hand gripping the stirring wheel tightly, fingers drumming along anxiously with the faint beat of a song coming from the radio.

It's a nice car. Like, you would not afford this even if you saved up for years. You knew Simon was influential in the company, but this...it almost scares you. He's fucking rich. Probably going to laugh at you when he pulls up outside of your apartment building.

This is the first time you have ever been in a car with him. You wish things were different. Mostly that your eyes weren't so puffy from crying. And that he wasn't your ex and you weren't working together.

A red light forces him to slow down into a stop, the only sound now being the wind picking up pace outside. It's so quiet for a few seconds that you barely have the courage to breathe.

"Why did you fuck up my entire office? Whole day was ruined," Simon speaks from nowhere. Your lip twitches, fighting the urge to smirk despite the pain tormenting you.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Of course it was you. No one else in there knows that I'd have a bloody breakdown over my files being out of order," he mutters.

You let out a quiet chuckle, shaking your head. "It was petty. But...I was mad. About the coffee-thing." Your voice grows softer with each word, merely a whisper by the end.

Simon clears his throat, shifting in his seat. "Yeah, uh...not my finest moment."

A thick silence falls over the car once more. None of you dare to talk about the thing that actually needs to be brought up, the dark cloud hanging over your shared past. You are not really mad at each other over coffee.

The drive takes much longer than usual because of the heavy rain. You're shivering despite the heat being on. It's been thirty minutes once the wheels slow down right outside of your apartment, and you instantly move to get out after throwing a sincere 'thank you' his way. It's all you can muster.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Simon asks, not even making an attempt to answer to what you were saying.

"What do you mean?" You stop, looking over your shoulder with one hand on the door. You just want to go inside, away from his gaze before it all gets too much.

Simon unbuckles his belt, getting out of the car. Rounds the entirety of it until he's opening your door, leaning down to look at you with a frown.

"You're hurt, for fuck's sake, Y/n. You can't take care of that yourself, no way."

You sigh out of frustration, shaking your head while looking away from him. "Why are you being nice to me, Simon?"

That seems to halt him in his actions. Simon blinks, pauses for a few seconds, before opening his mouth again. "Don't know. But I'm in a chipper fucking mood, so just let me get you out of the car, okay?"

You huff, giving no protest as he takes a hold of your waist to assist you out onto the curb. "You're not in a good mood..." you mutter under your breath. He just scoffs.

Simon sits and waits for you in the kitchen as you wrangle yourself out of your wet clothes into an old sweatshirt and a pair of pyjama shorts. For much too long you stand in front of the mirror, staring at the newly formed bruise on your upper arm. You have to take a few shaky breaths to force the tears back before you limp back into the kitchen.

This outfit of yours is the last thing you want to wear around him, but it's what the situation requires. But did you really have to be so dramatic and fall onto your knees before? This is going to take weeks to heal. And now you have Simon sitting on your chair waiting to patch you up. Simon.

"The first aid kit is in the bathroom, I'm just gonna go get—" You point with your thumb.

He's on his feet before you even have the chance to finish the sentence. You barely even processed the fact that he's discarded his suit jacket and shirt, now walking around your home with a white tank that does no good job at hiding his fucking massive muscles. His arms are covered in tattoos that he definitely didn't have when you last saw him. Fuck.

Simon returns just a minute later, already rummaging through the box for...something. You don't really know what's required for a wound like this. He was right about you not being able to take care of it yourself, which you hate. Loathe, actually.

"Sit down," he tells you, dragging out a chair from the table as if you are his guest and not the other way around. The strangest thing is that you listen, without a single protest. He seems to still have that power over you.

You can't take your eyes off of him as he kneels down, grabbing a hold of cotton and some liquid-thingy you didn't even know you had in that kit.

"Is that gonna hurt?" you ask, his hand one inch from touching your knee. Simon sighs, blinking as if he's going to lose it soon.

"Well, what do you think? It's alcohol in a bleeding wound. Of fucking course it's gonna hurt."

You grimace, biting your cheek, before inching back just slightly. "Then I don't wanna do it," you whisper.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Grow up for once, will you?"

"What do you mean ‘for once’?" you seethe, retracting yourself entirely from his proximity as he rolls his eyes.

"Well, c'mon, what you did today was just...fucking childish." Still sitting on his knees, but it feels like he's towering over you the way he speaks.

"Uh—like you acting like your coffee was cold when it clearly wasn't just to humiliate me wasn't childish too! You started it!"

You rise to your feet, turning away from Simon out of frustration.

"Sit down, Y/n."

"No! I won't...let you in my apartment to order me around and...and—"

"Just sit down," he seethes, getting up to his feet. Now he's really towering over you. You hate it.

You continue walking away towards your bathroom, letting out a wince as you put too much weight on the bad knee. You keep walking anyways.

"Y/n, for fuck's sake!" Simon follows you. He could have been ahead of you if he wanted to already, but he stays behind for some reason. "Why won't you listen to me?"

His yelling makes you turn around with so much anger in your expression. But the anger can't hide the tears pooling in your eyes—nothing can.

"Because you left me!"

Silence. Thick, anxious silence as he stands there dumbfounded. His chest is heaving from your altercation.

"You left me without a single word, Simon! Not even a fucking hint!"

His previous stunned silence turns into a bitter chuckle, one hand on his hip and the other running over his chin as he shakes his head. You see the change in his eyes—irritation turned into real anger.

"Not a hint, huh?" he scoffs. "You could've given a fucking hint that you were sick of me before you went and fucked Graves and half of his team behind my back."

All of a sudden the roles are switched, and you're the one stunned silent. A person who can barely process the words you just heard—did you hear right? Could Simon ever say that to you?

"I was so happy that night. Just wanted to celebrate with my team and my girl—searched the whole party for you, you know?" Simon shakes his head, still that cold, deprecating chuckle on his lips. "And then I find you eating up Philip fucking Graves' face and two of his friends. Fucking two of them, Y/n!"

Agressive flashes of fear-filled memories attack you along with the line of Simon's retelling of that night you go back to so often. Of what you could have done differently, of the anger you felt that he just had to make things worse. Water was up to your neck, pressing on your lungs, and his abandonment pushed your head under the surface.

"You get your fucking boyfriend to back down or we'll leave your pretty body half-conscious on his doorstep."

"Please, just let me go. I'll talk to him, I promise. Please." You were sobbing, the emotions heightened by the vodka in your bloodstream.

"Such an obedient little puppy, huh? No wonder he spends all his time fucking you instead of hanging out with the team." Philip's laughter filled the room, looking over his shoulder to his friends who found just as much amusement in the situation as him.

"Nothing to say, huh?"

Simon's voice shatters your deep train of thought with the sheer bitterness behind it. It makes the tears fall faster.

"You...you saw that?" you ask weakly, your voice frail as if you have been crying for hours. Your arms come up to shield yourself from the invisible presence of them, hugging your torso as if it helps.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. It was fucking hell, seeing the girl you love cheating on you with three guys. So I'm sorry if I've been acting like a bloody prick, but I can't just pretend I'm not still so fucking angry at you. Don't come crying here saying that my behavior isn't justified when you know damn well why I'm mad at you."

All these years. So many sleepless nights obsessing over every detail of your behavior during your relationship, and this is the answer. You have been so angry at him over leaving, and you never thought you would understand why. But you do, and it breaks your heart even more.

Blood is smeared all over your leg as you look down, and that still doesn't hurt as much as the fact that Simon has gone around for years hating you, thinking that you cheated on him. You loved him so much. Betraying him is the last thing you ever would have done. You understand Johnny's reaction now too—he thought you cheated on his best friend. That's not something you just forgive. It's your job to be mad at the people who wrong your friends.

But a nagging voice in the back of your head tells you to be angry. Simon walked past that dark bedroom, saw what was happening, and left. He could have saved you. It's an unfair thought to have. You can't be upset with him for misunderstanding. He couldn't have known about the threats dealt out in that room, or that the passionate kisses he witnessed was in reality seething, harsh words and a much too up and close Philip Graves. But it still hurts. Still haunts you, having three massive rugby players crowding you in and promising to beat you to a pulp.

A loud sniffle comes from your lips, drying the tears away from your face with the back of your hand. Blinking to rid yourself of the water on your lashes. You have to tell him. Simon looks about ready to leave.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," you say breathily. Your voice cracks in the middle of it.

"Sorry?" he shakes his head, lifts his eyebrow as if assessing the word. It's clear that's not enough for him.

"I'm sorry you thought I cheated all this time. I understand why—" A hiccup,"—I get why you left."

Your choice of words changes his demeanor. From hostile, clenched jaw with a fire simmering underneath the surface to hostile, clenched jaw and confused.

"I didn't kiss anyone, Simon. I didn't—I didn't do anything with Philip, or any of his friends." Broken words, distorted by the constant movement of your chest and throat as your body desperately fights for you to let out the sobs. Not yet. "They wanted me to get you to quit the team, and I couldn't...I couldn't fight back. Not against all of them."

Nostrils flare, lip is bitten down on. A veiny hand runs over a mouth. Blinking. Hands shake with contained...fury? You don't know who it's directed at.

"What the hell are you trying to say?" he seethes, taking a step forward that makes you take one back.

"We weren't kissing. They were threatening me. Said I'd be left on your doorstep bleeding and bruised if I didn't convince you to stop going after the Captain position. I was so scared, Simon," you say, voice cracking pathetically on the last sentence.

He’s quiet for much too long. You can’t read him, standing there so exposed and vulnerable and he’s silent. That’s why his outburst is so sudden.

"Fuck!"

You flinch, inching backwards as Simon turns around yelling. Not once have you heard him scream this loud. So you stand there, rooted in place, tears streaming down your face as he tugs at his hair with his hands. His chest heaves as if he just ran five miles.

You tremble too. The first sob comes out. It's a sad, pathetic sob that you try to muffle with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. Futile. Simon turns around. You can't see his expression through the blur of your tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeat, burying your face into the palms of your cold hands.

You almost jump as strong arms pull you into the tightest hug you have ever lived through. It's an urgent one, a desperate one. It's warm. Your cheek gets mushed against his damp shirt, hand encasing the back of your head as his chest rises up and down with his rugged breaths.

You lose the single crumb of composure you had left. If Simon wasn't a wall of a man he would have been dragged down with you as your legs lose the ability to carry you, just like in the alleyway. He notices anyway, slowly sitting the two of you down on the floor. Your knee is protected by a gentle hand keeping it from colliding with the hardwood.

"I am so, so sorry, Y/n," Simon tells you on a frail voice. It almost sounds like he's on the verge of crying too. You didn't know his voice could sound soft. "I am so sorry I didn't protect you. That I just—I just walked away. So fucking thickheaded—"

Your fingers clasp onto his shirt, tugging just slightly. It's your silent 'stop'. A reassurance that he doesn't need to blame himself. You understand.

"All these years I—I hated you for something you didn't even do. Fuck, I didn't even give you a chance to explain."

He shakes his head, his hold around you tightening subconsciously. It takes a few seconds before he realizes and softens again.

"Oh fucking hell. I got Graves suspended the day before 'cause I ratted him out to Coach about smoking fucking weed. Fucking shit, this is all my fault. I am so sorry," Simon croaks out. His voice will give in any minute to the guilt and frustration and anger and tears.

"Simon..." you whisper before sniffling, putting your hand on his chest. "Don't. Don't do this to yourself."

He shakes his head again. He will give himself a concussion soon from how much he's done it this night.

"It's not your fault. It's...it was horrible. But it was them, not you. Someone came and stopped it before they could do anything worse."

He takes in a sharp breath. You can almost feel the way his jaw clenches. "Anything worse? They put their hands on you?" he whispers bitterly. "Shouldn't have happened at all. I should have been with you earlier."

"Just some bruises from when they dragged me into that room. But I know you wouldn't have let it happen if you knew. Of course I know that, Simon," you say softly, sitting up just slightly. You don't know when your tears stopped. It's just your throbbing head and the runny nose left. "Simon, you were so protective of me. You cared so much—I know you would have stopped them if you knew. But you didn't know."

Dirty blond hair and his scruffy neck is all you're met with. He doesn't even look your way. And then he's suddenly on his feet, towering over your figure on the floor.

"You're still bleeding. Need to fix it."

You can't answer. Don't even have the opportunity to—Simon's hands sneak under yours arms and lift you up to a stand before you can open your mouth again.

"Simon..."

He keeps quiet. It's that brooding thing where he overthinks. Did it when you were together too. A lot. Simon carries a lot of guilt around, steals it from others and guards it safely within himself. You don't really know how he bears it all.

The sofa sinks underneath your weight as he slowly loosens his hold around your waist, placing you so gently onto the cushions. Might as well be made of glass to him. But then you think that it must be exactly how he views you right now—a delicate, frail thing who needs protection from any and every threat. You have already amassed cracks during the years, during the day even, and just one push will leave you to splinter.

Once again he kneels before you. This time you don't find it frustratingly hot. Now it's soft, a little sad even. There's a frown so deep in between his eyebrows you fear it might become permanent this time.

You don't say anything as you let him clean your wound. Maybe you hiss a little once the alcohol touches the broken skin, but make no move to protest. Simon might need this more than you. Okay, you don't want to die from an infection, but you could have done this with a lot less grace. You would have ten minutes ago.

"I still am, you know," he mutters after many, many minutes of silence. He's wrapping a bandage around your leg.

"What?" you breathe out softly, looking down at his concentrated frown.

"Protective of you," he answers. "I still care. Even if we're not together." Simon gulps, stops for just a second in his work.

"You are?"

His eyebrows rise for a second, corners of his lips threatening to tug upwards. "Didn't see me earlier in the lobby? I was gonna curse you out real fucking good. For my office."

"But you didn't."

"No. I couldn't, not when I saw that you were crying." His hand suddenly stops, resting on your good knee, before he looks up at you. "Why the hell were you crying, Y/n?"

Instantly you close off again, glancing away to escape that concerned expression that makes his eyes so dark and soft. It's an irresistible thing.

"Please, love. I need to—I need to make it better."

You pretend to ignore that Simon just called you love. Instead you focus on the fact that he's trying to compensate for that December night. For all the years you had a broken heart without knowing the reason why.

"Just...something that brought back some bad memories, that's all. Unpleasant encounter." It's practically mumbled, your answer, and you know Simon always hated when you mumbled. Wanted to hear your pretty voice loud and clear, he used to tell you.

His ever present frown grows impossibly deeper. Simon is speculating with himself, it's clear on his expression.

"With someone at work? Who bothered you, Y/n? Who the fuck made you cry?" he seethes, running his hand over his mouth as if to keep himself from saying something worse.

You shake your head. Your instinct tells you to dismiss it, say that it's fine. But maybe you shouldn't, for once. Just tell him that Shepherd actually said something that was far from okay. He was in the wrong. You shouldn't be the one to suffer in silence anymore.

"There was this—you know the man who always wears a Rolex and has the corner office? Shepherd?" you say meekly.

Simon's jaw clenches, but still his hand on your thigh is so gentle. "What the fuck did he do?"

"He...I ran into him on my way home. Collided right into his chest." You swallow air, looking down at the point of contact between you and Simon. "And he caught me. Didn't let go when I tried to go away. And he had this look in his eyes. Was so close, too. I couldn't breathe."

"Fucking hell," Simon groans.

"He said he just wanted to talk...but then he started commenting on my dresses. That he'd watched me 'strut around', as if I purposely put on a show for him, or something. Told me to come into his office on Monday and wear something nice so he would have something sweet to look at. I had to beg him to let me go."

"He the reason you've been clutching your arm the whole night?" Simon asks tensely, nodding down to where the bruise hides underneath your sweater.

You didn't even notice you did that. But it's sore when you move it. The answer to his question comes from your uneasy glance up at him that makes him close his eyes. You think it's to contain something—to calm down.

"He won't get fucking near you again, Y/n."

You gulp, blinking. "But he works there...he's one of my superiors."

"No. The fuck he isn't. He's not stepping a foot inside that building again."

"What?"

"Price will have him fucking murdered for even looking at you funny. Been looking for an excuse to get rid of him for years, and this...I'm so sorry, love. You shouldn't have to put up with that."

You shake your head, looking down to the point where Simon still has the bloodied cotton pressed against your knee.

"You would do that for me?" you ask softly, almost a whisper.

"Do fucking anything for you, Y/n. Would have even during all these years that I was too bloody stupid to reach out." With his hand on your thigh, he shakes your leg gently, enough to make you look him in the eye again. "You were my girl, you know? Swore I'd protect you from every fucker who even looked at you wrong, and not only did I fail at saving you from those fucking worthless pieces of shit who laid their hands on you, but I didn't protect you from myself. Will never forgive myself for that."

Simon's words makes your lower lip tremble again, and you let out something akin to a whimper and sigh before speaking.

"None of that is your fault," you say. "Even though I would've appreciated if you talked to me before just leaving back then, I understand why you didn't. If it was the other way around and I thought you were out with three girls, I would've been crushed. Wouldn't be able to look at you again without breaking into sobs."

He raises his eyebrows, shaking his head. It's clear that he doesn't take your words to heart, but there's still something in your statement that registers within him.

"You never told me that you cared for me that much." Simon clears his throat, as if the words are a lump stuck in his airways.

You sigh. You know it's true—you held back on saying those three words for months, thinking that the time had to be right and he couldn't possibly feel as strongly as you did. Then he broke up with you and you never got the chance.

"I wanted to. I wanted to tell you everyday, but I was scared that you wouldn't say it back."

Simon scoffs. "For fuck's sake, Y/n. I loved the shit out of you. Thought everyone could see that from the way I trailed after you like a lovesick puppy."

A bittersweet chuckle comes from your lips, shaking your head to yourself. Blinking away tears stuck in your eyelashes. "I should've told you sooner." It's a decibel away from a whisper.

Simon looks at you as if what will come out of your mouth is the most important thing in the world.

"I think I...I still feel that for you. A little bit," you admit. "It's pathetic that I'm still hung up on you after so many years, but it's hard, Simon. Seeing you everyday and not act like we used to."

"Don't you think I haven't wanted to bend you over my desk and fuck you every single day these past two weeks?" Simon seethes. "I've jerked off in the bathroom outside my office more times than I can count and literally cried like a pathetic jerk in Johnny's arms the first day you started work 'cause I was still so fucking hurt that you didn't love me as much as I loved you. I'm a grown ass man, Y/n, and it was years ago. That's how much you meant to me."

"You cried?" you ask breathily, your head empty except his words echoing. Bend you over my desk.

"I've sobbed like a fucking fool countless times over you. The weekend after I saw you—after I thought that I saw you with them—I went back to my mum's house and wailed like a baby into her chest." Simon chuckles, a bittersweet expression on his face.

"I'm sorry."

"No. None of that shit. I caused it. Should've just asked you instead of taking off. Wasn't man enough for you back then. I'm the one who needs to apologize."

You bite down on your lower lip, doing something akin to a nod as you glance away, out of the window.

"And now?" you ask. "Are you man enough now?"

"Careful, love..." Simon says, his voice strained.   "Don't give me hope."

"Hope for what?"

"You know damn fucking well what I'm hoping for," he answers gruffly. You gulp, lips parting to release a shallow breath. His brown eyes are nearly black, pupils blown wide from the intensity of his gaze. You know that look.

"Simon, you know I feel the same. You know it." It's nearly a whisper, what comes out of your mouth. Leaning forward just slightly, closer to his face where he's kneeling on the floor. "I already told you earlier that I still—"

Your back is pressed against the cushions of the couch as Simon surges up from his place on the floor. Calloused, tattooed hands grip your face gently as those pink lips you've dreamed about for the past two weeks devour yours desperately. Shuts you up real good.

"I've missed you so fucking much," Simon growls, a certain ferocity in his voice that makes him sound like a beast bowing only for his woman. He kisses you again. "Please. Please let me show you how fucking good I can be to you."

There's no real point in acting as if his words isn't the best thing you've ever heard. You're already panting and preening for him, so acting as if the answer will be anything but yes is futile. You nod furiously, holding onto his wrists.

"Yes. Please, Simon. Yes," you answer breathily, desperately.

The grunt coming from his chest makes your thighs clench together, resonating deeply within your core as the memories of how his touch felt all those years ago spark up every last nerv-ending in your body. Before you even know it, Simon has his large hands on your waist, lifting you up from the couch and sitting down himself. Your thighs straddling his, face to face and chest to chest.

"Ow. Simon, my knee," you say with a chuckle, leaning back enough to keep the pressure off your wounded leg.

"Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry, love. Are you alright?" he asks, an instantly guilty expression on his face. Didn't seem to pick up on the laugh from your lips. He looks like someone just kicked a puppy in front of him.

"I'm just fine, Si." Your hands come up to his face, feeling the stubble on his cheeks underneath your fingertips. "Maybe we shouldn't sit like this, though."

"We don't have to do this tonight. I'll wait for as long as you want me to," he tells you, pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of your wrist. It almost makes you cry. He always did that back in uni.

"I'll literally fucking burst if I don't have you inside me within the next ten minutes. We'll work around it. I don't care."

Simon chuckles. A sound that comes from deep within his chest, rumbling and warm and so familiar. It festers within you and sprouts, spreading safety and comfort through your blood. Makes you smile, genuinely. He stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands holding onto your thighs.

The bed sinks down underneath your weight as he lowers you down on the sheets, so careful to not touch your now patched up knee.

"Just as desperate for me now as you were then, huh?" Simon teases, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck as his massive frame hovers above yours.

God, your body remembers. It remembers him so well, surrendering to his rough, deep voice as it whispers into your ear. It's an instant thing you feel—safety and simultaneously giddiness. You giggle like a goddamn schoolgirl with a crush, sneaking your arms around Simon's broad shoulders as you nod.

"Mhm, I am," you admit. Without shame. "I've really missed you, Simon. I really have." Your words are softer than before, void of the teasing tone they previously held.

He sighs. Presses his chapped lips to the corner of your mouth, slowly moving down to your jawline, neck. Simon is the toughest, biggest man you know. Curses like a sailor and can snap you in half. But oh, he's so gentle with you. When he wants to, at least. You remember those nights when desperation overtook him, clothes ripping and the breath fucked out of you. And you loved those nights just as much as the ones where he would just trace his lips over your skin for an hour before even touching your by then sickeningly wet folds.

But after years and years of separation and an emotionally wrecking fight that finally led to reunion, gentleness and patience isn't high on your list right now. You want to rip his clothes off and taste him again and feel him inside of you and kiss him even more and touch every inch of his skin. Though, Simon keeps trailing his mouth down your neck, hand inching underneath the hem of your sweatshirt as he hums. The sound makes you giggle. Fucking hell you've missed him.

"Something funny, love?" Simon asks, raising a challenging eyebrow as he lifts his head from your skin.

"Just that sound. Been thinking it about it sometimes."

"Thinking about it, huh?" he probes, pushing your sweatshirt over your head, forcing you to raise your arms. A deep groan comes from his lips as the lace of your bra is revealed to him, the fabric delicate enough to show the outline of your nipple. "Oh, fucking hell. You tryin' to make me come in my goddamn pants, yeah? It's not nice."

"I didn't know you'd see my bra when I put it on this morning, Simon," you chuckle, gaze flickering down to see his frankly hungry gaze.

"Didn't put it on for someone else to see it, did you?" he asks, something akin to doubt in his eyes. Or maybe not doubt, but nervousness.

"No. There's no one else," you admit. "Haven't...been many others since you."

"Not for me either. No one is like you. Tried, but it was bloody useless. Fucking nothing is better than my sweet girl when she's wrapped around my cock."

His statement confuses you for just a second before his hand sneaks it's way underneath your pyjama shorts, cupping your pussy and feeling the embarrassing wetness already soaking your underwear.

"Let me taste you, love," he pleads. You're already squirming, bucking your hips against his hand in search for friction. All you can do to answer is nod, and the second after, your shorts are thrown to your bedroom floor.

"C'mon, sweet girl. Been without you for fucking years. You can give me one more. Just one more," he tells you, pumping his fingers into you deliriously, possessed by the squelching sound your slick and his digits emit.

It's been thirty five fucking minutes of Simon making you come on his tongue and his fingers and then his tongue again. He's currently on his second round of fingering the living breath out of you. You had forgotten how thick his fingers were, and now with those added years of use, more calluses and lines and wrinkles? You haven't been able to utter a full sentence in a good while.

"Holy..." Your head is thrown back onto the pillow, back arching as if you were in a porn video, thighs clamping down on his hand.

"That's my girl. There we go, there we go,” he mutters, in a trance by the sound of it and his lustful stare.

You have to push his hand away after almost a minute of him drawing out your orgasm by lazily continuing to pump his fingers into you, whining when it becomes too much.

“Insatiable fucker,” you mumble as you lay spent on top of the sheets, chest heaving and a light sheen of sweat on your skin.

And he hasn’t even been inside you yet.

Simon chuckles, that deep rumble that almost sounds like it scratches his insides in some way. A wet, shameless kiss is pressed to your thigh, before he stands up to his full length again. His poor knees must be aching after having been pressed into the floor for so long.

“Missed her. Can’t blame a bloke for wanting to spend time with his missus after such a long time, eh?” Simon teases, making you roll your eyes fondly.

“Just c’mere,” you sigh, smiling up at Simon again, the same way you did at 20. Or maybe not the exact same. Things have changed, you have changed. Simon has sure as hell changed. But it’s better. A deeper affection, a deeper understanding.

The blond giant climbs onto the bed, over you, hovering like a wolf ready to pounce yet a gentleness in his hold that draws away the sense of threat. His thumb cups your cheek, brushes over the skin under your eye. And then he kisses you, softly, something you didn’t he know he was capable of. Back then, it was always passion, urgency. Playful, desperate. This is longing.

You sigh against his lips, feeling his chapped skin and the stubble on his chin. It nearly brings tears to your eyes, the way you have this man over you again. It’s been so long and he’s dozens of pounds heavier with muscle, more tattoos on his skin and scars on his body. But he’s still Simon. And he’s yours.

“Condom? Please for the love of god tell me you have a condom,” he pleads, growls with need against the crook of your neck.

“In the drawer,” you giggle, stretching your arm out in its direction.

He wastes no time. His urgency makes him clumsy, makes you laugh even more, as he tries to tear the wrapper open with his teeth and fails. Gives you a warning glare that does no good job at hiding his fond amusement, while resorting to opening it with his hands like a normal person.

Simon’s hands close around the back of your thighs, pulling your legs up until they press against your stomach. His tip brushes against your wet folds, but his gaze is on your face.

“Ready for me, sweet girl?” he asks, the deep timber of his voice sending literal shivers through you.

You nod.

“Words.”

“Yes, Simon. Please. Wan’ you inside me,” you plead.

“Mhm, know you do, sweetheart.”

It’s all the warning you get before he grabs a hold of his cock, coating it in your slick, before guiding it towards your dripping hole. Your breath catches in your throat, a whine of discomfort coming from your lips as his thick girth presses into you inch by agonizing inch. And yet it’s so good. Fucking hell, you’ve missed it.

“Holy fuck, I forgot—“ you say, not needing to finish the sentence for him to know the sentiment. You forgot how big he was.

"God you're..." Simon growls, keeping still as he bottoms out, savoring the feeling of your walls stretching around his thick cock once again. "You feel even fucking better. How the fuck did I go without her all these years?"

Tears prickle the corners of your eyes. Don’t know if it’s from the sting, the longing, the pleasure. You’re still all pliant and sensitive from the multiple orgasms he drew out of your earlier.

Simon starts to move, rolling his hips slowly into you. Letting you feel every ridge and vein of his cock sliding against your walls, drawing rumbles from his chest.

“Not gonna leave this pretty pussy again, no. ‘S all mine. Needa’ apologize for keeping her lonely for so many years,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. The corners of your lips tug upwards.

“Simon,” you whisper, hands entangled into his hair. He tilts his head upwards, looking up at your face. “Fuck me.”

A pleased smirk grows on his face, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so, huh?” he asks, squeezing your thigh, before snapping his hips into yours.

“Oh, fuck…”

Your pathetic bed creaks as Simon bullies his cock into you, the filthy sound of your slick being pushed inside of you filling the room along with the grunts and whines from your mouths.

It’s like a switch turned on in his head when you told him to fuck you, because it’s nearly animalistic. There’s no class or precision in his sloppy thrusts, just desperation.

“Fuck, so sorry, love, but I’m gonna come,” Simon tells you, clenching his jaw tightly with restraint. His large fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he holds them up, his heavy weight flush against you to keep you in a mating press. Despite his words, there’s no shame in them. Just an apology. He wishes he could savor this, but it’s futile. His cock wants something else.

“It’s…it’s okay,” you manage to get out between his thrusts, a smile on your face while his movements grow increasingly sloppy and hurried. “Come for me, baby. It’s okay.”

“So fucking perfect,” he growls, while his thumb finds its way to rub tight circles on your clit. Damn it if he doesn’t make you come one more time. He needs to feel you clenching down on his cock like that. “Gonna make you come again, baby, I promise.”

Your hands paw at his broad back, digging into the chiseled muscles while your thighs wrap around him, bringing him in deeper.

It’s with his face buried into the crook of your neck that he comes with a snarl, heavy breaths likened to the ones belonging to a beast blown right into your ear. Despite his movements stilling, his softening length remains inside of you while his fingers flicker your nub deliriously.

“Uh-huh, I see you, I see you.” He grins, taking note of the bucking of your hips, the way your thighs attempt to press together as they squeeze around his waist.

“Simon,” you whimper, and that’s all it takes for him to press down a little harder, do it a little faster. You let go, mouth falling open in a soundless gasp.

“There it is. Look so beautiful when you come on my cock,” he tells you, and you swear you feel him harden again inside of you.

But when you come down from the high, laying there spent and panting, he pulls out so gently. Presses a kiss to the swell of your neck before climbing off the bed and discarding the condom in the bathroom.

“Simon, can you get me a towel?” you ask tiredly, watching his naked figure through the open door.

“Was already on it,” he tells you, stretching his arm out through the spring with the towel in hand, drawing a chuckle from your lips. “Have to take care of my woman. Can’t leave her all messy from taking my cock like the sweet girl she is.”

“You’re so crude,” you say through giggles, Simon walking back into your bedroom.

“Only around you, love,” he answers, kneeling on the bed to dry you off.

“That’s a lie. A big fat lie.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The soft fabric drags against your skin, soaking up the trails of your wetness coating your inner thighs and your folds. So meticulous, careful with each movement. Neat-freak.

“I love you.”

His head tilts up, brown eyes keeping you still under his gaze. And then he smiles. Skin by his eyes crinkling, white teeth showcased, towel discarded onto the floor. He covers your body with his, arms sneaking around your waist to roll you on top of him.

“I love you, sweet girl. ‘S probably gonna be the death of me, but like hell if I’m gonna do anything else than love you,” he whispers, dragging the duvet over your bodies.

Your body goes soft, pliant, in his hold. Comfortable silence fills the non-existing space between you, his breathing the only thing you can hear. Your eyes almost shutter closed when Simon speaks up again.

"I am so fucking you in my office on Monday," Simon tells you, chin on top of your head, your cheek on his chest. You can't see his face, but you know there's a boyish grin on his lips.

You just chuckle tiredly.

"Mr. Price would literally kill the both of us if he found out."

"Tough luck, love. I'm having you on my desk. End of discussion," he teases, squeezing your hip gently.

"You're insatiable."

"And you're beautiful. And sexy, and gorgeous, and entirely fucking mine," he whispers, growls, into your ear. "So we're christening my office on Monday, yeah?"

"You're taking the blame if Price walks in."

"Gladly. By Monday afternoon, nobody in our office will have any doubts about who I belong to."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Future Mr. Y/l/n Riley. You better fucking believe,” he says. “Just gonna get Shepherd fired and gauge his eyes out first.”

“Simon.”

“Yes. Nobody fucks with my woman.”

TAGLIST: @keendreamnight @xxkay15xx @evie-119 @darkravenqueen98 @naxxsstuff @sirens-and-moonflowers @narcoticv3nus @igotmajordaddyissues @fallenkitten @darling006 @iloveloveeducks @accio-serotonin

[legendary-pink-dot]

Airport Pickup

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x female reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Unprotected PiV, fingering, semi-public sex, established relationship, light dirty talk because I like to think Frankie is a Sex Talker, Tom has a cousin and he's an asshole too

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Frankie hates airports when he isn't there to fly or work. The crowds, the noise, endless passengers complaining to airport employees who were just trying to do their jobs and get through the day. But he’s sitting there waiting today for you.

Notes: No use of "Y/N". No mention of Frankie's child. Frankie starts off grumpy but gets a happy ending. Thank you @goodwithcheese for the prompt and prodding, and to my magic slut coven for cheerleading @arcanefox207 @magpiepills 💜

Fuck. Frankie hates airports when he isn't there to fly or work. The crowds, the noise, endless passengers complaining to airport employees who were just trying to do their jobs and get through the day. But he’s sitting there waiting today for you, through a lengthy delay of your flight arrival and then another one.

Six weeks was a long time to be apart. Way too long. It didn't help that you'd been halfway across the globe -- the time zones and your respective work schedules had made it almost impossible to stay in touch other than a couple quick calls and some texts. He missed your conversations, the shared dinners after work, the drawn-out nights of sex. Right now, especially the sex.

Frankie frowns as your text comes in: Just landed. Delayed b/c crew was late. Pilot is Cpt Davis 🙄

Captain Davis -- fuck. Tom's idiot cousin Chad. Frankie hated him. Not only was Chad an asshole, but a shitty pilot too. Frankie had had the misfortune of flying commercial on one of Chad's flights and knew within two minutes that the minor pitch, yaw and roll corrections -- or lack thereof, in this case -- during the particularly turbulent takeoff were an indication that this pilot didn't give a shit about his passengers. Sure, a captain's primary job is to get people safely to their destination, but what happened to having pride in your work? Fucking jerk.

Frankie shakes his head in disgust as he heads to the coffee shop for your favorite order, stopping at a convenience kiosk on the way to pick up an extra pack of Dramamine for you. Just in case.

~~ * ~~

You stare dumbly at ten identical black suitcases endlessly rounding the baggage carousel as people push past you. Why is baggage claim always a shitshow? You were exhausted from 18 hours of travelling and jetlag, and the turbulence during the flight had stirred up your motion sickness so badly that you’d run out of Dramamine. Bed sounded good right now. Just your cozy bed, 10 hours of sleep, and Frankie waking you up with kisses and hot licks of his tongue. Is that too much to ask for?

Frankie had texted to say he was in the waiting area, and you were so eager to see him. Six weeks was way too long to be apart, and everything ached to be reunited -- your heart, your fingers, your cunt. Anticipation had gotten too much on the last leg of your flight and you'd even tried getting yourself off in the tiny airplane bathroom, but no luck. It just wasn't happening and you'd given up in frustration, ending with no orgasm and also a nice bruise from banging your elbow against the sink.

Finally, your neon blue bag (chosen specifically to be unique and bright so you didn't have to think at times like these) comes into sight. You haul it off the carousel and head straight for the exit.

Frustration melts away as you spot Frankie waving, making his way through the waiting crowd. He's wearing a green sweater, the one he only puts on for special occasions as his version of "dressing up". It would be an awful color on most people but it perfectly brought out the golden tone of his skin, the richness of his brown eyes, the chocolate of his curls peeking out under his navy blue cap. It makes your heart skip a beat that he still makes an effort to look good for you.

"Come here." He envelops you in a bear hug and you bury your face into his neck, inhaling the smell of fresh coffee, his leather jacket, his freshly washed hair curling out under his cap. The scent of Frankie. You drink your fill of it, of him, cinching your arms around his broad back and letting your body sigh and melt into his. "I missed you so much."

~~ * ~~

Dim lighting in the parking garage makes it feel even colder despite the long welcoming hug, the hot coffee you’d downed in the elevator, the extra Dramamine, even the pre-warmed comfort of Frankie's leather jacket. You hadn't missed how his eyes had travelled up your bare legs as you put the jacket on, taking in and appreciating the sight of you. He did love when you wore sundresses. Which is why you had changed into one before getting off the plane.

Tucked into a dark corner space is his truck, looking lonely with few other vehicles around. Frankie tosses your suitcase into the bed of the truck and immediately pushes you up against the passenger door to kiss you hungrily, his hands firm on the back of your neck and around your waist to press you closer to him, giving you a proper welcome home. His mouth is warm and inviting, and you slip your tongue inside it to generate and seek out more heat.

"Tired?" he checks in after a couple minutes, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. "How's your motion sickness?"

"The Dramamine's kicking in now." You shiver involuntarily in your thin dress. "I'm cold though."

"A sundress, in this temperature? Didn't you check the weather here before your flight took off?"

"But I wore it just for you, Francisco," you whisper, nipping at his mouth. "I know it turns you on."

Frankie groans as he slides his hand along your bare thigh, a featherlight touch against the chill-textured flesh. "You're too good to me. Let me warm you up, cariño. Get in the back seat."

Last time you'd been in the back of his truck, you had been splayed across the bench seat, hands tied by and gripping the seatbelts on both sides as he ate you out, coaxing two strong and heady orgasms out of your body as the sun rose over the beach you had parked at. A good memory, one you had recalled several times during the long lonely nights in your hotel room on this trip.

He opens the door, and you eagerly climb in.

Frankie slides onto the seat, closing the door with a firm but quiet click. You climb into his lap and straddle his thighs, letting him pull you close again, his hands roving under the jacket and rubbing your back while yours snake underneath his sweater to borrow heat from his chest. The curve of his neck and shoulder is warm and you gratefully nuzzle your face into it, inhaling his scent again to imprint it in your memory, so happy to be back.

"Mmmm. Really missed you," you breathe into his skin, the cold tip of your nose rubbing circles over his throat and poking under the neck of his sweater to tease his collarbone. "Missed this."

"Me too. So much," he croons, sliding a hand through your long hair. He adjusts the angle of your head just perfectly to kiss you again, gentle at first and with increasing hunger until your tongue traces his plush lower lip, dipping in to slide in and out of its cleft, and he moans into your mouth.

"Fuck. Do that again."

You continue teasing his mouth with the tip of your tongue as his hands descend to grip your ass and grind his hardening cock against your core, rough denim snagging on thin cotton and lace. You're toasty warm now and you shed his leather jacket, also taking his hat off so you can weave your fingers through the curls in his hair, pulling gently as you rock against him, feeling his heat transfer to your center, the tip of his length in his jeans making contact with just the right spot to make you moan as you rut against him.

Frankie takes advantage of your open mouth and slides a finger in. "Suck. Get it wet for me." You comply and swirl your tongue around his finger, licking and sucking and slurping as if it were his cock, savoring the anticipation of knowing it would soon be inside you.

"Good girl." His finger drips with your saliva and he slides it through your folds, his other hand pulling the crotch of your lace panties aside and holding it there. Letting the cold air kiss your heated flesh. "Hmmm. So wet for me already though, aren't you? So hot," he rasps against your throat, feeling the vibration from the sound that travels up and out of it as he slides a second thick finger into your pussy. You clench around their sweet pressure, his fingers always able to reach places inside you that your own can't.

Within seconds you're shamelessly fucking his fingers, rocking back and forth and building more and more heat in your core, his thumb doing a better job against your clit than your own had in the airplane bathroom, when a bright light flashes through the windshield. Frankie grabs you and pulls you down to lie on the seat, covering your body with his as if shielding you from gunfire. Years retired from Delta Force but his combat instincts never fade, apparently.

"What's happening?"

"Security guard on patrol. I know most of them here and don't need 'em catching me fucking in my truck like a teenager," he whispers into your ear as the flashlight glare fades away. "I'd never hear the end of it."

You stare into his eyes, his face hovering just an inch from yours, those brown eyes you love so much looking darker than ever in the dim fluorescent filtering through the truck. You kiss him with hunger and want. "I need you inside me. Please. Can't wait until we get home."

"I got you, cariño. I'm gonna fuck you good. Get up and turn around."

He hauls you back up and turns you to face the front of the truck this time, straddling his thighs again, and you plant your feet on the floor as he pushes you forward, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down just enough to free his cock, hard and leaking precum, eager to sink home into you. His hands roam up the front of your dress and gently squeeze your tits. You feel the prickle of his mustache caressing the back of your neck as he presses kisses there, and you shiver from pleasure this time, not the cold.

"Patrol will be back soon. You're gonna be the lookout while I take care of you, okay?"

You hook your fingers around your panties and slide them all the way off.

"Fuck yes, Frankie. Show me how much you missed me."

Frankie groans and grabs your hips, lifting up the hem of your sundress, and you grab the back of the front seats for leverage and control as he slowly guides the thick tip of his cock through your folds and into the first few inches of your entrance, setting on fire every nerve ending along the way. It's a stretch, always a stretch with Frankie, but especially in this position, your thighs spread wide across his lap and toes just barely brushing the floor. Your back arches against his chest as he slides the rest of the way in, all the way to the hilt, your moan mixing with his grunted sigh to echo through the small enclosed space of the truck.

"You like that?" He gives an experimental thrust and you cry out, for another, for more. "Did you miss my cock?"

"Yes," you whimper, your voice shaking but not hesitant. "So much. Give it to me."

The leather of the seats in front of you is smooth on your fingers as you bend further forward, changing the angle, inviting him to fuck you in earnest and he does, his practiced hand finding your clit without you needing to ask. Frankie always wants to give you the world if he could.

You forget the security guards, the time on the clock until they come back, not caring and soon no longer cognizant of whether time is passing normally or whether you've been suspended in it. The only thing in your orbit is the feeling of Frankie's cock travelling deep into your heat and discovering every sensitive spot inside as if it was the first time he's explored it. Fire and tension build in your core as his fingers dig into your hip to hold you in place, his thumb working your clit in tandem with his thrusts, the rough texture adding an extra sensation that you've never managed to replicate alone.

"Fuck." Half a whimper and half a plea, and Frankie answers it with a loud groan. Your fingers grip the seats so tight that you create marks in the leather. "More, Frankie, please, don't stop. "

"So fucking tight for me, cariño." Frankie sounds utterly wrecked behind you, voice rich and full, his free hand snaking up to clutch the back of your neck, holding you at the perfect angle for him to drive in and out relentlessly, deep and hard the way he knows you crave. "So sweet. Always so good to me when you come home."

Sounds reverberate off the windows: heavy breaths, flesh against flesh, your moans, Frankie's grunts and whimpers as his rhythm inside you starts to falter, both of you close.

A final few strokes of his fingers across your clit and the tight coil inside you snaps, his other hand slapping over your mouth just in time to contain your sounds as you cry out, feeling his cock twitch and pulse as he comes hard, spurting hot inside you. He buries his face in your hair to muffle his own loud groan and it vibrates loud across your scalp and down your spine as you grind your ass into his lap a few more times to draw out the pleasure for both of you, your walls fluttering around his softening cock, until the sensitivity becomes too much.

Collapsing back against his chest is all you can manage and his arms encircle you, holding you close and breathing heavy into your hair. You feel his heartbeat as it winds down, slowing its thumping against your back through the thin cotton of your sundress. Your surroundings take shape as you come down from your high: Frankie has got you. You're home again.

A sudden flash of light through the windshield blinds you both. "Morales? Hey man, I thought that was you! Have fun with your girl, see ya at the bar Friday night!"

You both groan. It wasn't even a security guard -- it was Chad Davis and his frat-boy smirk.

"Fuck me," Frankie sighs in disgust. "I hate airports."

[starryylies]

Tf-141 and Roblox.

<This is a kinda satire post cuz I’m stupid and I can’t think. Im so sorry if its really out of character and stupid but hope you enjoy>

Reader is younger (19-20), cussing, mention of bullying kids (satire), ooc, live love Roblox and yes

~ Me on Roblox ~

Price-

-he didn’t know what Roblox was until you explained the whole thing to him.

-he first thought it was a blocks game for kids

-he calls it roadblox 💀

-you made him start off playing speed run with you since you both could play together and race :D

-but long story short he could not finish through the first level.

-he always strayed away from the path and ended up dying more than 7 times in 5 minutes.

-easy to say he got frustrated and stopped playing the game :(((

-you convinced him to try another game which is easier Better for beginners

- he agreed and you made him play tower of hell

- he hates it.

-played speed draw once and got annoyed that his masterpiece of a drawing lost to a scrambled egg.

-doesn’t play Roblox again. Buys you robux though.

Simon-

-‘’what the fuck is robust love!?!?’’

-‘siiii it’s robux’

-‘I ain’t playing that

-‘you don’t have to play just pay 🥺’

-‘I ain’t paying for that unless I know what this shit is’

- he regrets saying that.

-you made him play aimblox.

-he fails miserably.

-calls it a stupid game for kids (HOW DARE HE!?!)

-you get pissed at him. (Pissed as in you don’t talk to him for a day)

-he makes it up to you by buying robux.

-(love is in the air again 😍)

-won’t ever call it a stupid kids game again. (Learnt his lesson)

-you find him trying to play Roblox again when he’s alone, trying to get better.

-he will deny that he enjoys the game till the end of time.

-he reaches lvl70 in a week.

-blames you for making him addicted to the game.

-loves you though. (Loves the game too won’t admit it though)

Johnny‘’Soap’’MacTavish-

-likes shooting games a lot.

-plays lots of themmmm.

-has a family with three kids in Brookhaven with two pet chickens which he sometimes eats.

-(I’m vegetarian)

-you’re his family on Brookhaven and he named the kids with your name and his name mixed.

-will fight kids in speed draw. Literally.

-jk he doesn’t bully kids he just starts writing in hashtags when he’s pissed. Or Scottish.

-loves breaking into other peoples (gaz’s) home in Brookhaven.

-loves going to those restaurant games with you.

Kyle ‘gaz’ Garrick-

-pro gamer.

-loves zombie uprising and many shooting games.

-loves those short horror story games.

-loves going on them with you to scare the shit outta you. (He’s the one who gets scared)

-pretty rich in Brookhaven.

-has lots of robux on him.

-has finished all the stages in speed run with all the dimensions.

-pro in tower of hell, like actual pro.

-tried playing mimic, he never tried again.

-plays the special forces stimulator just to make fun of it.

-his house in Brookhaven always gets broken into.

-realises it’s soap breaking into his house.

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊

[morganbritton132]

What happened with the death threats? is Steve okay? in your tags you said you were gonna put someone confronting Steve, even if that didn't happen, is he ever paranoid? Ive been thinking about this all day hsbeudnbeid i have so many questions lmao

Steve kinda just stops.

He doesn’t even realize it until the morning after Eddie confronted him about the letters, but he just stopped doing things after he got the first letter a couple of months ago. He stopped going grocery shopping. He stopped getting coffee. He stopped going on his nightly runs. He’s missed the last three of his and Max’s bi-weekly trivia night with their friends from physical therapy.

He can’t even remember the last time he hung out with Robin that wasn’t at his house.

It’s a little ironic that the only places he ever is these days are at work or home, the two places he’s received letters at. He just stopped doing anything and he didn’t even notice.

He only realizes it because Eddie asks if he wants to get breakfast before they talk, and Steve can’t bring himself to step outside. He feels like he’s seventeen again, all alone in a big empty house and trying to convince himself that there isn’t a dead girl in his pool.

“I can make breakfast.”

“We don’t have anything to make for breakfast,” Eddie says.

Steve ran his fingers through his hair, yanking them through the tangles at the ends because he doesn’t even understand where the anxiety in his chest is coming from. He’s been outside. He goes outside to go to work five days a week, so – so he shrugs his shoulders, “Uh…why don’t you go and I’ll – I’ll do, uh, something around here.”

Eddie squints at him and taps a beat against his collarbone before asking bluntly, “Do you not want to be around me?”

“What?”

“Why are you acting like this? I know you’re mad that I found your letters but you’re the one that lied to me, Steve. I think – I think it’s pretty rich that you’re trying to make me feel like shit because I care about you.”

“I’m not doing that,” Steve said, eyes shifting to Eddie and then away. Eddie only makes eye contact if he’s angry and – yeah, Steve probably gave him plenty to be angry about. “I want to be with you.”

“Then act like it. Let’s go.”

“I can’t.”

“…Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Steve whispered, and it makes him feel worse that Eddie just deflates. The frustration subsides and he looks away, and Steve doesn’t want that. He wants Eddie to be mad at him. He wants Eddie to blame this all on Steve and tell him what it is that people hate so much about him so he can change. He wants – “My head is so fucked right now, and I don’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Eddie perks up at that, “Are you going to-“

“No. I – I feel… I can’t leave,” Steve tries to explain. “I feel like I can’t leave. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, it does. It makes complete sense, Steve. Someone is threatening you and you’ve been dealing with it alone for months. It’s okay to be scared.”

“I don’t want to be scared.”

Eddie nods and then he sits down on the floor in their foyer. He makes grabby hands at Steve until Steve sits down with him, and then he holds his hand. Eddie asks, “What do you want, Stevie?”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Eddie gives him a kind smile – the smile that makes Steve fall in love over and over again – and he squeeze’s Steve hand before whispering like their sharing the most precious secret, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

[marvelmusing]

Hate Loving You

Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: Working for Aleksander and Alina Morozova drives you to insanity and beyond. No one has ever made you feel so frustrated, embarrassed, and unbelievably aroused. Officially you’re their personal driver, but you know deep down that you’re actually just their favourite plaything.

Warnings [18+]: smut, minor angst, uneven power dynamic, the consent isn’t explicit but it’s there, spanking, pain kink, breast play, humiliation, degradation, praise kink, sir/ma’am kink, sadistic!darklina, free use vibes, masturbation, sex toys, sharing of explicit photos & videos, sexting, exhibitionism, fingering/double penetration combo (fingering with two people’s fingers), choking, bondage, dacryphilia, hair pulling, spitting, car sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, size kink, darklina are what I’m deciding to call ‘deliciously awful’ in this AU. If I’ve missed anything let me know.

@becauseicantthinkwritings <- chelsea, your tag as requested, enjoy x

A/N: there is most definitely typos in this fic, but it’s way too long for me to do a full proof read at the moment so I’ll probably fix those later

My Masterlist

Aleksander Morozova is one of the most insufferable men you’ve ever met. He’s cold and curt and there’s a dark glimmer in his eyes whenever someone else experiences humiliation or disgrace. His wife isn’t any better. Alina Morozova’s words are always sharp, her smirk ever present and your skin crawls whenever her attention lingers on you.

They are both ridiculously attractive, but it doesn’t make working for the couple any more bearable. If anything - it makes it worse. As their personal driver, you’re at their beck and call every hour of the day.

Aleksander owns his own luxury car business, working as both the CEO and lead designer. As a result, the entire contents of their home garage is Morozova cars. It pains you to admit it, but his cars are the nicest you’ve ever driven.

They are both borderline arrogant about their riches, utterly confident in their status as one of Ravka’s wealthiest couples. The way Aleksander looks down at you makes you burn from the inside. Alina always traces her hand over your shoulder as she climbs out of the car, perfectly manicured nails scraping over your clothing. She tosses her car keys deliberately to the side of you, so that you have to bend down to retrieve them.

The two of them are particularly fond of car sex, a discovery you had made during your first week working for them.

“Sasha, please, I want your cock in me,” Alina pleads quietly, her voice breathy as she grinds down on her husband’s lap.

Heart pounding, you slowly inch your finger towards the button that will lift the screen between where you’re sitting at the wheel and where the two of them are kissing passionately on the back seat of the car. There’s a low mechanic hum as the screen begins to rise and you flinch at the sound.

Subconsciously, you glance up at the rearview mirror, meeting the intense gaze of both Aleksander and Alina.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” he asks sharply. Words fade on the tip of your tongue as you struggle to gather up an explanation.

“I was- I was just going to give you some privacy, sir.”

“Did we ask for such a thing?”

“Well, no, but I thought-” He clicks his tongue at you disapprovingly.

“Don’t think. Keep your eyes on the road.”

He had then preceded to fuck his wife slowly, easing Alina onto his cock, and you had seen every second of it in the tiny mirror above your head. Her dark eyes widening at the stretch of him pushing into her cunt. Her brows creasing as he thumbed at her sensitive clit. Her plush lips parting as she gasped and moaned.

The sound of her whining for more, the slap of skin against skin, and the lewd sloppiness gathering between her thighs now lives in the back of your mind. Every time you attempt to touch yourself, a heavy breath or the sound of your slick-covered fingers will have your mind falling back onto Alina and Aleksander.

At first you had resisted these thoughts. Pushing away the idea of Aleksander fucking you against the hood his car, or Alina sucking hard on your clit with the intention of making you squirt over the backseat of her car. None of their drivers had ever been allowed in their house, but occasionally the thought of being in their bed crosses your mind as a moment of indulgence.

The desire you feel around them doesn’t often distract you while working, since their behaviour usually manages to taper any arousal that might arise in you.

“What are you doing here?” Aleksander asks. There’s no care or even curiosity in his voice - only what sounds like a mixture of boredom and annoyance.

A frown creases at your brows as you turn to watch him walk through his garage, Alina close behind him. They’re both dressed for dinner - Aleksander’s usual black suit and tie and a low cut dress of deep midnight blue for Alina. The click of her heels echoes over smooth concrete.

“You called for me.”

The corner of Aleksander’s mouth twitches as he rounds one of his cars, the lights flashing as he unlocks the vehicle.

“And like a little puppy, you came for us.”

There’s something warm yet mocking in his voice and Alina laughs while your cheeks burn with embarrassment. She grins at the sight of you so flushed and frustrated - once again they’ve ruined your night by calling you in only to dismiss you once you arrive.

“We won’t be needing you tonight,” she informs you, shooting her husband a grin as she slips into the car.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Right now, frustration is crawling under your skin, your fingers drumming against the steering wheel as you wait for the traffic ahead of you to move. Alina giggles from the backseat and the muscle in your jaw tightens. The sound of lips meeting makes something sharp stir in your stomach and you fight the urge to look in the rearview mirror.

Aleksander and Alina have a guest with them.

Zoya Nazyalensky. A tight silver dress clinging to her every curve, bronze thighs on display as the fabric slides upwards. Alina’s hand is settled on her legs, gliding upwards as they kiss. Aleksander grips the back of Zoya’s neck, fingers threading through her dark locks as he takes control of the kiss between her and his wife.

As much as you had fantasised about it late at night, you hadn’t even considered the fact that the couple might want to bring another person into their bed. The fact that they had picked someone as alluring as Zoya has your stomach sinking.

Alina moans softly and you press your knees together. It doesn’t help that you had been on a date when they had called for you to drive them home - meaning you’re not wearing your usual work attire. The bare skin of your thighs brush together and sparks thrum up to your cunt at the barest hint of contact. The date hadn’t been going particularly well, but you had still been hoping to take the girl home for some fun.

Instead, you’re working, listening to Aleksander and Alina enjoy the company of another person - a person who isn’t you. Not that you stand much of a chance, competing with someone like Zoya. A silly sense of disappointment settles in your chest.

Red lights catch the corner of your vision. It’s barely even a conscious thought, your foot landing heavily on the break pedal. There’s a halt in the low conversation and soft giggles that had been occurring in the backseat. The ringing in your ears echoes in the silence as you wait for the lights to change.

Aleksander murmurs something to Zoya and Alina laughs. Too busy trying to focus on the road and calm your pounding heart, you can’t work out what any of them are saying - though you aren’t sure you want to hear them.

When you arrive at Zoya’s house, the three of them climb out of the car as you expected. But what you hadn’t expected was for Aleksander to reach around your seat and place a firm hand on your shoulder. You know he feels you startle at the contact.

“Keep the car running for us.”

Alina’s hands wander as she bids Zoya a good night, and stupid, shameful tears burn in the back of your eyes as you watch them in the wing mirror of the car. Aleksander takes Zoya’s chin between his fingers, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips and you force yourself to look away.

The drive to Aleksander and Alina’s house is mostly silent. The two of them exchange knowing looks that have nerves coursing beneath your skin. On several occasions, you catch Alina watching you with a smirk that makes you shiver. Aleksander seems as composed as ever, though there’s a glint in his eyes whenever he manages to hold your gaze.

The silence continues as you arrive at their front gates and as you drive into their large garage. They both get out first and you sit in the empty car for a moment to compose yourself. When you manage to gain enough courage to get out, you find the two of them waiting for you.

No words are exchanged as you walk by them both, heading towards your own car at the very end of the garage. The weight of their combined gaze makes you shiver. Aleksander’s voice is dark as he speaks in a low tone.

“You were sloppy tonight.”

The bottom of your stomach sinks and your footsteps halt.

“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“No. It won’t.” His response makes you look at him. “Lift your skirt up.”

Bafflement splays itself over your features as you turn your head to look at them both, blinking at his request. Embarrassment burns through your body when you remember you aren’t wearing any panties.

Warmth spreads over your cheeks as you do as he says, the cool air meeting your bare skin. At the sight of your bare lower half, Alina wolf-whistles lowly, a wide grin tugging at her lips, and your gaze drops to the concrete.

“Turn around,” Aleksander orders.

Vulnerability prickles over your skin as you turn, giving your back to Aleksander.

“Sir-”

“Bend over.”

“What?”

He places his hand on the nape of your neck, squeezing firmly and the force of his hand on your body has you tensing as your body submits to him.

“Bend over.”

He smacks your ass hard and a startled whimper escapes from the back of your throat. He does it again, a sharp sting burning over your skin in the wake of his hand. The metal ring on his smallest finger bites into your skin and a shudder rolls down your spine. Tears gather in your eyes, humiliation and desperate arousal filling your entire body, and the skin tingles from the impact of his hand as he hits you again.

He spreads your cheeks, pinching the flushed skin as he inspects the glistening slick gathered between your folds. With your cunt exposed, he lands another smack to your most sensitive area, his fingertips a hairsbreadth away from your clit and a wretched noise startles itself from deep in your chest.

“Please, sir,” you whine. They both laugh.

Shameful arousal pools in your stomach, embarrassment prickling over your skin as you shift your thighs together to relieve the ache in your core - earning yourself another smack from Aleksander. A broken moan reverberates in your throat and Alina sighs softly.

Glancing up at her, you see she’s leaning against the hood of her car, hands wandering over her bare thighs, fingers brushing gently against smooth skin and you swallow hard at the sight of her. There’s a dark, knowing glimmer in her eyes, mirth filling her expression and your cunt throbs almost painfully. Her ankles cross lightly, pristine heels side by side as she lifts her chin up to stare at you.

Aleksander continues spanking you, his large palms landing flat against your ass cheeks. He changes the speed and force regularly, never allowing you a moment to adjust to the rhythm.

Some of his smacks sting, pain prickling over your skin and dancing down the length of your legs, whilst others thud, jostling your entire body as pleasure rockets up your spine. His other hand holds a fistful of your hair, keeping your head up so that Alina can watch your expression change with each strike of his hand.

Tears drip down your face, splashing onto the smooth grey concrete beneath you and desperation heaves at your shoulders. Over the past week, they’ve kept you working so much that you’ve had no time to pleasure yourself - too exhausted after work to gather the necessary energy. As a result, shameful arousal now glosses over your thighs.

“What would you do if we left you like this?” Aleksander asks cruelly, and you feel the weight of his gaze on your poor, neglected little cunt. Whatever brittle dignity you have left, it snaps in your chest and you beg hurriedly in a broken whimper,

“Please don’t.”

Alina laughs and you squeeze your eyes shut. The sound of her heels clicking over concrete has arousal and anticipation stirring in your stomach. Then she takes your chin between her fingers, pinching hard. When you make a small whimper of protest, your eyes fluttering open, she pouts mockingly at you.

She exchanges a heated look with her husband and before you can react he pulls on your hair, straightening your back so that you’re pressed flush against his body. He wraps an arm around your waist, pinning you in place while Alina tugs at the straps on your shoulders, exposing your chest for her.

She sinks her teeth into the soft underside of your breast and a sharp sob catches in your throat as your cunt clenches uncontrollably. Pleasure and pain blur together as you writhe between Aleksander and Alina. The hard heat of his clothed cock presses into your back and all control you have over yourself spirals away from you.

Alina licks over your nipple, tongue tracing the bite marks left blooming on your skin and your heart pounds wildly as a familiar breathlessness descends. Tears spill down your face as her attention moves to your other breast. An animalistic cry shakes your body as she sucks hard on your nipple.

When her teeth nip at the hardened bud, pleasure thrums through your poor untouched cunt and your body plummets into an earth-shattering climax that takes everything from you. Sound disappears, your vision is consumed by stars and the frantic jerking of your body saps all your energy, leaving you exhausted.

Aleksander loosens his hold on you and instantly you sink onto the ground, pressing your head back against his thigh. He pets the top of your head, stroking your hair gently as Alina crouches down beside you.

“That was a big one, wasn’t it darling?” she coos softly, observing the haze in your eyes as your chest continues to heave.

“Alina,” you whisper weakly, reaching for her with shaky hands. Her expression melts somewhat, into something you’ve never seen from her before.

“Oh my lovely, were we too mean?”

There’s still an undertone of teasing as she pulls you gently into her lap. The bare skin of her thighs are smooth against your heated ass cheeks, but you whimper nevertheless at the contact. Alina wipes at the tear stains on your face.

“I hope you’ve learnt your lesson, little dove.”

“Lesson?” you repeat with widened eyes. Aleksander nods.

“About being jealous.”

Heat burns over your face as you realise how transparent you must have been this evening. Alina nudges your chin, tilting your head up to meet her gaze.

“That you’re our favourite toy to play with.”

“And that you belong to us. Only us,” he adds.

Turning to look at Aleksander, you realise that they must have heard you talking about your date with some other member of their staff. That the only reason they had called you tonight was to draw you away from your date. You’re not sure whether you should be flattered or annoyed with them.

Alina’s gaze is stern as she scours over your face, fingers squeezing at your chin.

“Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you whisper, voice faltering.

She smiles, ducking her head forward to press a kiss to your forehead and your heart flutters in your chest. Her nose nuzzles slightly against your temple and you lean closer.

“You’re dismissed for the evening.”

You blink at her, feeling her words cut into your chest.

“W- What?”

“Alina don’t be cruel,” Aleksander says warningly. But you’re already withdrawing yourself from her arms, stumbling to your feet and moving towards your car on shaky legs.

Tears blur your vision and it takes every ounce of self control you have not to cry.

“Little dove,” he calls out gently. Swallowing hard, you blink back your tears and turn to face him. He beckons, curling two fingers at you. “Come here.”

He cups your face in both his hands, fingers hooking beneath your jawline as he looks down at you. His dark eyes draw you in, sinking into the depth of his gaze that is the softest you’ve ever seen him.

“You’ve been a very good girl tonight.”

A warm blush heats at your cheeks, spreading down your neck and the only response you’re capable is a bashful whisper.

“Thank you.”

“Do you think you can drive yourself home, or shall I ask Ivan to take you?”

“I’ll be okay.”

He smiles indulgently and he looks so painfully handsome that your stomach flips at the sight of him - a stark contrast to the man who had punished you so thoroughly. His voice is a low coo, and you’re tempted to sink back down onto the ground when he says,

“Of course you will.”

The smile that tugs at the corner of your lips is shy and you can’t hold his gaze for very long, which seems to please him. He walks with you to your car, holding the door open for you to climb inside. Alina trails behind him, gaze heavy on you.

Once the door is closed behind you, he taps on the window, and you press down on the button in the door, lowering the glass for him.

“You’ll take tomorrow off.”

You can’t remember the last time they allowed you a day off that you didn’t have to grovel for.

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect you to send us proof that our punishment was effective.”

Confusion sparks in your eyes as you look between him and Alina. It only takes a moment before she elaborates with a wicked glint in her dark eyes that roam hungrily over your body.

“We want photos of Sasha’s handprints on your ass and my bite marks on your tits. You think you can do that, baby?”

Words fail you, as does oxygen momentarily. Then you swallow hard, nodding jerkily.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She grins.

Even as you begin to drive home, you feel untethered, almost disconnected from your body. It’s only once you collapse onto your sofa at home, curling in on yourself, that you begin to feel some semblance of your own self creep back into your chest. As you close your eyes, you bury your face into a cushion in an attempt at hiding from the rest of the world.

Then your doorbell chimes, shattering your delicate moment of peace with its cheery tune. With a small groan of effort, you drag yourself up towards the door.

There’s no one at the front door, only a small cardboard box on your doorstep. A frown creases at your brows as you blink at it, eyes scouring your surroundings for a clue regarding the sender. Then you spot one of Aleksander’s staff cars, and see Fedoyr and Ivan standing next to it. Ivan looks as gruff as ever, his arms crossed over his chest, while Fedoyr gives you a small wave before the two of them disappear into the vehicle.

After scooping up the box and carrying it inside, you sit down on your sofa, placing it in your lap and peering at the contents. The items you find there make you blush as you inspect each one. There’s a pair of silk panties that are undeniably Alina’s and you bite down on your lower lip as your fingers caress the smooth fabric.

There’s a slightly worn t-shirt folded carefully in the box, a soft grey material that smells like Aleksander. Beneath that is an expensive-looking bottle of body lotion. Cracking open the lid, you inhale the sweet scent and immediately recognise the fragrance - one of Alina’s favourite perfumes. It’s a subtle, and almost primal, claim on you, purposefully wrapping you in their scent.

Underneath both of these items, there’s something that flusters you even further. A vibrator - much better than any other that you own, with countless settings and long distance device pairing options.

It’s these gifts that give you the motivation to drag yourself into the shower.

The skin of your ass cheeks is slightly inflamed and sensitive, so you decide to abandon the thought of wearing any underwear to bed tonight. Instead, you gently pat your body over with a towel and head into your bedroom.

Skin flushed from the heat of your shower, you sit down on the end of your bed, and begin rubbing your new lotion over your body. The scent makes you think of Alina - her hands wandering over your form, squeezing and pinching and thoroughly exploring you.

Slipping on Aleksander’s shirt, your stomach flips as you wonder how he would react at the sight of you wearing it. There’s a dull thrum of arousal between your thighs at the thought and your mind wanders towards the vibrator still wrapped in its box.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and soon the plastic packaging and the box itself have been discarded onto the floor as you study the vibrator and accompanying instruction booklet. It’s simple enough - downloading the app and linking it to your phone. It’s only when you’re scrolling through the app settings that you notice something in particular.

Paired Devices:

- Aleksander Morozova

- Alina’s iPhone ☀️

Heat burns over your cheeks, flooding down your body, and you flick off the app as quickly as possible - as if they might catch you staring at their names.

The thought of them receiving a notification when you’re using the vibrator - and using the opportunity to take control of your pleasure whenever they want - has a peculiar sense of debased intrigue fluttering in your stomach. Knowing the two of them, it’s likely they would use this power to ruin any orgasm you might hope to experience with the toy in question.

The sight of yourself in the mirror captures your attention and you can’t help but stare at yourself. Lifting the hem of the shirt, you blink at the figure posed in the reflection. Skin bright and glossy, widened eyes admiring the wild smattering of marks blossoming over your breasts, created by Alina’s teeth.

Dragging your lower lip between your teeth, you glance at your phone, remembering Aleksander’s demand regarding the effectiveness of their punishment. The skin of your ass cheeks is still tender, slightly uncomfortable against the rough texture of your old cotton sheets.

Turning your body, you snap a few photos of your figure in the mirror, darkened bruises forming on your skin from Aleksander’s firm hand. Almost entranced by the images you’ve captured, you take a few close-ups of your breasts, focusing on the dark arches pressed into your skin by Alina’s teeth.

It’s as you’re admiring the photos that your phone buzzes with a text message.

Aleksander M: Did you receive our delivery, little dove?

You: yes

You: thank you sir

With shaky hands, you click on a selection of your favourite photos taken tonight, and press send. There’s a few seconds before the read receipt appears beneath your message and the anticipation becomes too much. Squeezing your eyes shut, you click your phone off and place it face down on your bed.

Then there’s a soft buzz.

Aleksander M: Good girl

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sliding your hands slowly up your body, you squeeze at your breasts, groping the sensitive flesh before you grasp lightly at your nipples. Sparks of pleasure thrums beneath your skin, need gathering between your thighs as you indulge yourself.

As your eyelids flutter closed, your mind wanders to the one surefire way of increasing your arousal. Thoughts of Aleksander and Alina fade in and out of your mind - flashes of their bodies, snippets of words and the way you burn with that dizzying mixture of arousal and embarrassment whenever they humiliate you.

One hand glides up to your neck, fingers wrapping around as much as you physically can. Aleksander’s hand would be so much bigger than yours, curling around the entirety of your throat, and you know Alina would squeeze with more force than you would dare to. A low moan of desperation catches in your throat as you slowly grind your hips upwards into nothing.

Tightening your hold on your neck, your other hand is free to wander over your body, playing with your nipples like Alina would. Slowly, you trace your hand down between your breasts, thumbnail scratching a line down the length of your body. With your eyes closed, you can almost imagine the delicate sting of pain is from the claw ring Aleksander wears on his smallest finger.

Desperate for an increase in sensation, you scrape your nails down your thighs, digging into the soft, sensitive skin there. As the need begins to impair your judgement, making your head grow fuzzy, you reach for your new vibrator.

The little device hums to life in your palm and vibrations run up the length of your arm as you slide it down over your stomach, anticipation pooling between your thighs. Then the toy meets your dripping entrance.

The whine that escapes your lips is desperately pathetic and your body burns at the sound of yourself. Greedily, you press it harder against your cunt, grinding mindlessly against the toy as the vibrations shudder up your body. A delightful haze clouds over your mind, removing everything except the near primal need building inside you.

The sensation builds inside you and eager anticipation rises to meet it. Ever since Aleksander and Alina had touched you that night in their garage, you’ve been unable to reach any sort of climax. It’s only now, using the toy they had bought you, that you’re beginning to feel the kind of pleasure you’ve been craving.

Then, abruptly, the vibrations stop.

A cry of frustration heaves at your body. You had been frighteningly close to the edge. Fumbling with your phone, you check the connection between the toy and your phone.

Connected to Alina’s iPhone ☀️

The temptation to throw your phone across the room tugs at you.

Alina M: enjoying yourself, little dove?

In a moment of violent confidence, you press record, you lower your phone camera down between your legs. The video you send her in response is only a few seconds long, focusing on your soaked cunt as you purposefully clench around nothing.

Alina M: naughty girl

Alina M: are you really that desperate?

Abandoning the useless vibrator, you slide your middle finger down to your entrance, collecting the sticky arousal that you find there with your fingertip.

Alina M: you’re getting off on this, aren’t you?

Shame spills over inside you, but it’s nowhere near enough of an incentive to stop touching yourself. Especially now that you’re slick enough to begin rubbing at your clit, needy circles over the swollen nub that have you shaking.

Aleksander M: little dove

Aleksander M: what are you doing?

Aleksander M: Alina is pulling that face when she’s teasing you

Aleksander M: is your cunt all drippy and needy for us?

The thought of Aleksander and Alina sitting next to one another, pressing kisses leisurely over each other as they send teasing messages to you, has you whining through gritted teeth.

With shaky fingers and a thoroughly distracted mind, you manage to type out a reply for him.

You: yes sir

He doesn’t appear to be any less enthusiastic, despite your rather limited response.

Aleksander M: good girl

Aleksander M: are you touching yourself?

You: yes sir

Aleksander M: poor thing

Aleksander M: you must be struggling now that Alina has turned your toy off

Seeing his message - confirmation that they are both witnessing your unravelling desire - has you increasing the speed of your hand, rubbing at your cunt fiercely. The wet sound of slick smearing over your clit and fingers has heat burning across your cheeks and down your neck.

Aleksander M: don’t worry little dove

Aleksander M: all you need to do is think about Alina holding you down on your bed while I fuck your little cunt open

Aleksander M: I’m certain that will help you

He’s right. Imagining Alina lying beneath you, with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, while Aleksander pushes his cock inside you, has your cunt trembling with need.

Dropping your phone down onto the bed, you squeeze your eyes shut, rubbing vigorously at your cunt as your climax slams into you. A whimpering cry escapes from you, as your back arches away from the mattress. The muscle in your wrist cramps, but you continue your motions as your cunt twitches.

Everything is fuzzy, warm heat flickering beneath your skin has you sigh, attempting to settle your breathing. Rhythmic spasms seize your cunt as your heart continues to pound and bliss slowly winds its way through your each and every limb, filling them with a sated heaviness that has you sinking back into the mattress.

With shaky, sticky fingers you wipe the evidence of your climax over your trembling thighs before typing out a response.

You: thank you sir

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

On a typical night out with friends, you’re the designated driver - the responsible one who keeps an eye on everyone and makes sure everyone stays out of trouble. Tonight, you’ve somewhat neglected your usual duties, allowing yourself to be distracted by someone at the bar.

He seems nice enough - probably too nice for you - and he manages to hold your attention for a while, long enough for your friends to slip out of sight somewhere into the depths of the club.

Then you spot someone achingly familiar. Alina.

The moment you see her, your only thought is to catch another glimpse of her through the crowd. She’s sitting at a table in a darkened corner, tucked against her husband’s side. Aleksander’s arm is draped over the back of the leather sofa, his fingers grazing over her bare shoulder.

Alina’s dress is indecently short, and your gaze is fixed on her legs for a long moment. They seem almost glossy in the low light of the club and your transfixed at the sight of her. Her dress is skintight, giving you an ample view of her breasts pushed plump into the material.

They both stare at you unabashed. The weight of their combined gaze feels like hands over your body and you squirm in your seat, shifting your thighs together to relieve the ache that is growing in your core. The marks the two of them left on your body have almost completely faded and you can feel the absence of them.

Aleksander beckons to you and instantly you’re stumbling from your seat, bidding the man beside you a rather absent goodbye before you’re making your way through the throngs of people towards the couple.

When you finally reach the small sofa they’re sitting on, the courage you had mustered disappears and your gaze sinks to the floor. Staring down at your heels, you realise the music is much quieter here, providing a more intimate setting than the rest of the club.

“Um, hello.”

Aleksander nods faintly in greeting, taking a long pull of his drink. His features are shadowed in the low light, his eyes darkened as his gaze traces slowly down your figure.

“Good evening.”

“Having fun?” Alina asks. You shrug lightly, gaze falling again as her stare begins to unnerve you. Both of them seem to be taking advantage of your legs and cleavage on display, eyeing your body hungrily.

When you look up at her, she nods towards the man you had abandoned at the bar.

“You looked interested.”

You shake your head instantly.

“I’m not.”

Aleksander smiles indulgently.

“I told you, Alya, our little dove would be faithful.”

A frown creases at your brows, as you realise that they have been watching you - that they might have even sent that man over to talk to you. Alina hums lightly.

“I think I’d prefer some physical proof.” She holds her hand out, palm open expectantly. Confusion fills your features and she raises a dark brow at you. “Panties, darling.” She grins. “Unless you aren’t wearing any?”

After a quick glance at the small handful of people nearby, you reach beneath your dress and tug your panties down your legs before they drop onto the floor. You bend quickly, scooping them up and placing them in her waiting hand.

Alina tilts her head aside, staring at the fabric for a long moment, a wicked smile spreading over her face. Seeing your panties out in the open, for anyone to see, has shame brimming inside you. She opens up her clutch purse, dropping your panties into it. Then she reaches for you.

She pulls you into her lap, ensuring that your bare cunt is pressed against the heat of her thigh. Embarrassment warms your cheeks at the thought of the arousal already gathered between your folds, now smearing over her skin. Alina’s voice is low and dangerous as she murmurs into the shell of your ear.

“Any mess you make is getting cleaned up by your tongue. Understood?”

The thought of being forced onto your knees, in the middle of this club, to clean up your own arousal from her thigh - of being allowed to feel her skin with your tongue - has the hint of a moan creeping into the back of your throat.

“Y- yes ma’am.”

“If you draw too much attention to yourself, Aleksander will bend you over this table and give you a real spanking in front of everyone here.”

You tense in her hold. A real spanking? Meaning that what he had given you the other night hadn’t been considered a real spanking - despite it leaving you an incoherent mess on the floor of their garage. Aleksander’s laugh is velvet smooth.

“Alina, don’t scare our little dove. We don’t want her to fly away now, do we?”

They both share a wicked smile, their dark eyes glimmering with mirth, as if they know that you couldn’t leave them even if you wanted to. They would drag you back to them, kicking and screaming, and they would enjoy every second of it.

Desire thrums between your thighs as Alina’s hands toy at your breasts. She squeezes the soft flesh absentmindedly, occasionally rolling your nipples between the pads of her fingers as she talks to Aleksander. Their conversation is indecipherable to you, too consumed by arousal to focus on what they’re saying - not that they seem to be speaking to you.

They both offer you sips of their drinks, pressing chilled glass to your lips, and you’re forced to swallow the contents as they tip the liquid into your mouth. It isn’t long before you’re feeling tipsy from the concoction of alcohol given to you - and the intoxication of their presence.

Alina’s hands continue to wander over your body, though she appears to be particularly fond of your breasts. At one point, she slips the thin strap from your shoulder, pushing the fabric of your dress away from one of your breasts. The cool chill of the air stings your hardened nipple and you squirm, grinding down on her thigh. In response, she digs her nails into your skin.

A whimper catches in your throat and your head swims with a heady need that clouds over your thoughts, eliminating anything that isn’t focusing on Alina and the pleasurable pain she’s offering you. The stickiness between your thighs grows until the ache of your empty cunt is the only thing you can focus on.

If you had the tiniest bit more coherency, you might have been concerned by your lack of concerns.

“Darling,” Alina says softly, hooking a finger under your chin. “Look at that.”

She tilts your head down to look at the space between your legs, where your cunt has been leaking over her thigh. Shame prickles over your skin as you struggle to stammer out an apology for making such a mess. Her thumb circles over the heated apple of your cheek.

“Don’t worry your silly little head over it. You’re going to sit at my feet and clean up your mess like a good girl, aren’t you?”

You nod, slipping down onto the floor to nestle between her legs. The taste isn’t particularly pleasant, but you’re glad of the opportunity to feel her skin beneath your tongue. The thought of being allowed to bury your face into her wet cunt makes you moan softly.

She leans back in her seat, draping one arm over the top of the sofa. She rests the elbow of her other arm on Aleksander’s shoulder, her fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. Her nails scratch lightly at his skin and he turns to give her an adoring smile.

Even when all evidence of your arousal is gone, you continue to lick over her thigh. Glancing up at her, you decide to risk moving over to her other thigh. She grasps a fistful of your hair, yanking your head up to face them both. They both stare down at you as Alina threads her fingers through your hair.

Aleksander leans into his wife, nuzzling his nose against her cheek before he says quietly,

“I think it’s time for us to head home, Alya.”

“No, don’t,” you whine, pressing your forehead against her knee. “Please, don’t leave.”

Aleksander pets the top of your head.

“Little dove, you’ve been so good this evening. Do you really want to ruin that by being a brat, now?”

Tears fill your eyes as you shake your head, and Aleksander mimics the motion mockingly with a small pout of fake sympathy. He catches one of your tears with the pad of his thumb, eyes darkened as he observes your pitiful state. When your gaze falls onto the sizeable bulge beneath his trousers, you swallow hard.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper weakly.

“Come here.”

He holds his hands out for you to take and he helps you stand on incredibly shaky legs. Then he pushes the skirt of your dress up over your hips. His eyes flutter closed as he breathes in deeply, his nose almost directly level with your cunt.

“Little dove,” he murmurs softly. “I can practically smell how wet you are.”

He parts your folds with a delicate brush of his fingers, spreading you open with the hint of a touch that makes you whimper for more. Then he presses his fingertip against your entrance and the breath halts in your lungs. He sinks his finger inside you and your poor cunt quivers at the sensation of being filled.

Aleksander groans quietly, a deep sound that makes you shiver, your cunt tightening around the intrusion of his finger.

“Alya, come feel this.”

His words make your eyes widen, glancing over at Alina as she slides over the smooth leather seat to sit practically on her husband’s lap. She reaches between your legs, cooing demeaningly when you whine at the feeling of her finger squeezing inside you alongside Aleksander’s.

Alina curls her finger, stretching your walls as Aleksander brushes against a particularly sensitive area, and a broken moan escapes your lips. She grins at you and all you can do to escape them both is close your eyes, completely at their mercy.

“Oh Sasha,” she sighs. “She would never be able to take your cock.”

A pathetic, breathy whine of protest heaves at your body. Merely the thought of having Aleksander’s cock inside you has your cunt gripping their fingers. He smiles darkly.

“But she looks so eager for it.”

Alina laughs.

“Of course she is.”

Driven by need, you buck your hips forwards, seeking an ounce of friction for your neglected clit. A weak cry of frustration bubbles in the back of your throat when you’re unsuccessful.

Alina’s eyes are locked onto your chest, staring at your stiff nipples poking through the fabric of your cheap dress. She licks her lips, gaze flickering up to meet yours and the hunger in her expression makes you moan.

She smiles, using her other hand to circle your clit. Her smile widens when you cry out, painful pleasure sparking through your stomach as she rubs your swollen clit. After being untouched for so long, the firm pressure of her fingertip has you gasping loudly.

“What did I say about drawing attention to yourself?” she asks, her motions unfaltering and you clench around their fingers once again.

The thought of another punishment has nervous anticipation creeping over your skin. Tears bloom in the corner of your eyes and they both breathe out quiet moans, equally aroused by the sight of your tearful expression.

“Go tell your friends you’re going home.”

If your friends notice anything unusual in your expression when you speak to them, they don’t mention it.

It’s a relief that all Aleksander’s cars have black glass. The moment you reach their car, Alina is tugging you inside, pulling your dress off. The fabric drops into the footwell of the backseat, alongside your heels. Aleksander follows behind you, bending your body over his thighs. His hand squeezes at the back of your neck as his other hand lands hard against your ass cheek.

Alina strokes your hair, reaching out to squeeze at your breasts, pinching and pulling on your nipples as Aleksander continues spanking you. His strikes drive the air from your lungs, leaving you whining and desperate, your cunt clenching rapidly around nothing. The sheer memory of their fingers exploring the wet heat of your cunt has you teetering on the edge of an orgasm. Not to mention their quiet musings.

“Such a filthy girl, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Of course she is, Sasha. Look at the mess of her cunt.”

The rough fabric of his trousers graze against your exposed clit as you writhe in his lap, gasping and whimpering. Sparks of pleasure hum beneath your skin, your limbs tensing as your body scrambles towards your climax.

“Please, please, please.”

A pathetic whimper escapes your lips and Aleksander grasps your hair, pulling you up so that you’re straddling his waist. His hips roll upwards as he adjusts his position beneath you, his bulge pressing directly against your desperate cunt and you cry out at the sensation.

A gasp steals the breath from your lungs as Aleksander pushes a finger inside you. The stretch almost seems too much, overwhelming you in the best way. Still, Aleksander’s finger seems too big for you.

“I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” Aleksander insists.

“We’ll have to train your little cunt, hm?” Alina suggests, smoothing stray hairs away from your forehead. “Buy some toys to stretch you out, so you can take his cock.”

He crooks his finger inside you and your mouth drops open as he begins to thrust into you, fingertip brushing against your most sensitive spot with every twist of his wrist. His forehead grazes yours, a stray lock of his hair tickling your skin. Each of his breaths flutter against your cheeks, as you pant against his lips.

Alina reaches over, rubbing at your clit perfectly and you begin to fall apart, cunt clenching rapidly around his finger. The wet sound of your slick smearing over their hands has heat flickering over your body as your hips jerk forwards involuntarily. Through gritted teeth, you cry out, and spiral into a dizzying orgasm.

Aleksander keeps working his finger into you, but Alina abandons your clit, opting to fondle your breasts as you catch your breath. She kisses over your neck and jawline, teeth gnawing little marks into your skin.

The loss of Aleksander’s finger inside you makes you whimper, even as he smears the mess of your arousal over Alina’s thighs. Seeing her thighs on display, your slick glistening over her skin, makes you ache and reach for her. She smacks your hands, a sharp sting against your skin that makes you withdraw instantly.

“Did I say you could touch me?” she asks.

You duck your head bashfully.

“No ma’am.”

“Stick your tongue out.”

Cheeks burning, you do as she says. Aleksander grasps a fistful of your hair, yanking your head backwards. He leans over you, a string of saliva dropping from his lips to your waiting tongue. When he releases your hair, Alina holds onto your chin, leaning down to spit into your mouth as well.

She leans backwards against the door of the car, admiring the sight of you looking so ruined with a wicked grin.

“Now, keep your tongue out for me, like a good girl.”

Aleksander grasps onto your hair again, tugging your mouth between Alina’s thighs. Both of you moan as your tongue meets her cunt. She grinds her hips upwards and you lap eagerly at her dripping entrance, feeling her twitching against your lips. Aleksander’s grip tightens on you as you moan quietly. He doesn’t let you up for a moment of air - not that you would even want it.

She groans loudly when you begin to suckle on her clit, tracing over the swollen bud in quick circles with your tongue. Her hand joins her husband’s in your hair, the two of them holding you against her cunt. As you press your tongue down on her clit, she tugs on your hair and the pain prickles over your scalp, drawing a moan from you.

Her breathing quickens, jerky gasps and small cries as she thrusts her hips forwards, cunt chasing your mouth. She writhes, both legs locking around your shoulders, drawing you even closer to her as she scrambles towards her climax.

Her cheeks are flushed, a healthy rose glowing over her skin, dark hair cascading over her shoulders as her chest heaves in air and your heart stops at the sight of her. Aleksander seems just as entranced as you are, leaning forward to kiss his wife thoroughly. Seeing the two of them entangled with one another had desire sparking inside you once again, your mind growing fuzzy as the events of this evening finally begin to take a toll on you.

Alina scoops up a coat that had been lying on the backseat, draping it over your shoulders as Aleksander slips out from beneath you. The scent of the coat immediately allows you to identify the owner - Aleksander. She stays with you in the backseat, while Aleksander moves into the drivers seat. It feels strange, having him drive you home instead of the other way around - as it usually is.

Alina retrieves your keys from your purse, pressing both of them into your hands before she buttons up the coat you’re wearing. It isn’t long before he’s pulling up outside your house. Aleksander opens up the car door by your side, reaching into the footwell to slip your shoes back onto your feet. He extends his hand towards you, helping you out of the car.

It’s only once you’ve closed your front door behind you that you realise your dress and panties are still with Alina and Aleksander.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

From that night onwards, Aleksander and Alina can’t keep their hands off you. There isn’t a single drive completed without one of them pushing your head between their thighs or slipping a hand beneath the waistband of your trousers to edge you.

Fogged up glass and leather seats have now filtered their way into your dreams and there’s scarcely a moment where you aren’t thinking of how Aleksander’s cock feels in your mouth or how Alina’s cunt squeezes around your fingers when she climaxes.

It comes to a point where you’re beginning to run out of panties - since them seem particularly fond of stealing yours. Until one day, where Aleksander holds out his hand expectantly and you falter. He raises a brow at you and a flush rises over your cheeks.

“I’m not wearing any.”

Alina grins wickedly and you just know there’s a mocking remark at the forefront of her mind. There’s a pause and you scramble to think of something to fill the sudden silence.

“I could give you my bra?”

Aleksander smiles widely.

That night, you try not to think about how neither of them have ever kissed your lips.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Alina,” you whine desperately, as the vibrations inside you rocket up to a level you’ve never experienced before. Gritting your teeth, you fight the tears blooming in the corner of your eyes, knowing it will only encourage her.

“Quiet, little dove. We don’t want anyone else to see you so pathetic, now do we?”

You shake your head hurriedly.

It truly was naive of you to believe that she had invited you to join her for lunch with no ulterior motive. Of course she would use the opportunity to torture you publicly, slipping a vibrator inside you to have you at her mercy.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Aleksander is painfully attractive with his sleeves rolled up. He’s been talking about the latest adjustments made to Alina’s car for the past few minutes, but you’ve barely heard a word of what he’s been saying.

How can you? When his thick hair has been ruffled so casually, his hands adorned with small smears of black grease, firm forearms on display as he speaks. His hands themselves maintain a hold on the majority of your brain functions.

Thoroughly enraptured by his image, you don’t notice him reaching forwards until he grasps onto your chin and your eyes snap up to meet his. He chuckles darkly.

“I see I have your attention now.”

You flush.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

He hums in response, unconvinced. Then he reaches down to unbutton his trousers and your mouth waters in anticipation as he pushes you down onto your knees.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Looking so attractive should be illegal. Aleksander and Alina have tucked themselves into one another, mid-conversation with their group of friends at a gala. As a member of their staff, you’re forced to watch from the sidelines as Aleksander wraps his arms around her middle, nodding absently at whatever is being said.

Without looking down at her, one of his arms trails up her body, casually cupping her jaw. Her own hands cling to his forearm draped around her waist. Even from this distance, through the throngs of people, you can see her back arching to subtly press her ass cheeks against the front of his trousers.

When the thin strap of her dress falls down from her shoulder, Aleksander hooks his finger beneath it without looking, fixing it back into place as he leans in to kiss her neck. Her eyelashes flutter, heady gaze locking on yours from across the room and you shiver.

Then, another hand traces down Alina’s arm, rubbing familiar circles over her bicep as Nikolai Lantsov steps closer, pressing a kiss in greeting to her cheek. Alina smiles widely at him and you stiffen. She loops her arms around the back of his neck and his hands settle on her waist as her body sinks into his. Alina’s dress is backless, meaning his hands are on her bare skin, and a tension fills your shoulders.

When he withdraws from her, Aleksander holds out his hand to Nikolai and the two of them shake hands, drawing one another closer as their handshake dissolves into a hug. Nikolai squeezes Aleksander’s shoulder between his fingers as they embrace and something in your chest twists.

Seeing Nikolai between them both - where you want to be - has an antsy feeling prickling over your skin, urging you to get away from the sight before you do something rash.

Exiting the main hall where the gala is being hosted, you breathe deeply in an attempt at settling your temper. Consumed by your thoughts, you’re caught off guard mid-stride in a deserted corridor.

“What have we told you about being jealous?” Aleksander asks, his hand curling around your throat as he pins you to the wall.

He tightens his hold on your neck, squeezing gently and your cunt clenches around nothing as you whimper. Alina strokes her hands over her husband’s shoulders, smiling at the sight of you so helpless.

“Come on, little dove. Don’t tell me you’ve gone mindless already.”

“Sir,” you whine. He smirks darkly.

“I’m barely touching you.” He nudges your legs apart, slotting his thigh between them. Arousal is already clinging to the scrap of lace against your cunt. “Perhaps a little incentive will encourage you to find your words for us.”

He slides his leg upwards and they both laugh when you grind down on the trouser-clad muscle.

“I- I’m not jealous,” you protest weakly.

Alina smirks, raising a brow at you.

“No?” She brushes a loose strand of hair away from your forehead, hand dropping down to grope beneath your dress. “Then why don’t you let us introduce to some of our friends? Maybe Nikolai?”

A whimper catches in the back of your throat and you shake your head, biting down on your lower lip. They both laugh as your cheeks burn hot.

“Now, are you going to apologise for your behaviour?” Aleksander asks as he releases his hold on your throat.

His words make you recoil instantly, practically insulted at the thought of apologising for doing barely anything wrong.

“What? No.”

The look they both give you has an ice cold shudder running down your spine and you almost whimper at the intensity of their gaze. This might be the first time you’ve ever outright refused them and it doesn’t feel as empowering as you had imagined when you first started working for them.

Aleksander keeps his hand on the nape of your neck, while Alina grips your elbow, and the two of them steer you outside. They stand close by as you retrieve the car keys from the valet, their eyes watching your every move as you shift nervously.

When you reach the car, Alina opens the back door, gesturing for you to get inside while Aleksander retrieves something from the back of the car. She swats your ass cheek as you climb in, startling you, before she slides in beside you.

When you see what Aleksander is holding, a fine piece of black rope, your stomach flips.

“Give me your hand,” he demands in a low tone.

Hesitantly, you offer him your left hand, which he takes in his own, looping the rope around your wrist.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper in a tiny voice.

Aleksander halts his knots and looks up at you, his eyes soft.

“I know you are, little dove. But we need the lesson to sink in this time.”

Once the rope is secure around your wrist, Aleksander guides your arm backwards so that he can tie it to the base of the headrest behind you. Then he reaches for your other hand, while Alina opens up a bag, pulling out a vibrator, and you realise what they’re planning to do with you.

“Please, I’m sorry. I said I was sorry.”

Aleksander takes your chin firmly between his fingers.

“If you had been a good girl, and had done as you were told, you wouldn’t be in this situation, now would you?”

“No,” you whimper weakly. Aleksander smiles indulgently, continuing tightening the rope around your wrist.

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Alina connects the vibrator to her phone, turning it on and trailing the end of it down your inner thigh as she parts your legs. The sensation is slow but it thrums heavily up to your cunt. She turns it off as she reaches the puffy lips of your cunt, easing it slowly into your entrance. A tiny bead of sweat rolls down your calf as she stretches you open so intimately.

A weak cry escapes your lips when she turns it on again. Pleasure shoots its way up your entire body, burrowing into your chest and prickling over the back of your neck. Liquid bliss drops down your spine, blooming in your abdomen as you writhe at the onslaught of sensation. Aleksander watches you intently.

“Shall I tie her legs up as well, Alya?”

Alina tilts her head aside, considering his question, and you whimper. Then she shakes her head as a wicked smirk spreads over her features.

“I like seeing her squirm.”

Alina sinks a hand into your hair, tugging lightly so that you meet her gaze. Then she says a quiet voice that makes you shiver,

“You can come undone as many times as you want, but I want you to know that you’re the one paying for the seat to be cleaned afterwards.”

Shame burns through your body, hot molten pooling down between your thighs, dripping over their expensive leather seats - a custom design by Aleksander himself.

He leans in, his fingers brushing against yours as his nose traces along your jawline and you breathe in shakily. Then you feel a loose piece of rope being nudged against your fingertips.

You blink at him. He’s giving you an out.

Aleksander presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Be good for us.”

This is worse than anything. Knowing that you could free yourself. Knowing that you’re at their mercy one hundred percent willingly. Tears gloss down your cheeks and you know you’ve painted a pitiful picture of yourself - and that they will be enjoying every second of it.

The next few hours seem to drag on forever.

When they return, you’re an incoherent mess. Make up thoroughly smudged, mascara and tears staining your cheeks, and sweat glossing over your skin. The entire car smells of sex; the scent has probably embedded itself into the leather.

Alina hushes you, taking the vibrator out gently. When the rough lace of your panties brushes against your sensitive clit, you flinch and she removes your underwear instantly. Their hands on you are the only thing keeping you upright as Aleksander unties your wrists.

“Who do you belong to?” Alina asks in a low whisper.

“You. Both of you.”

Aleksander kisses your forehead.

“Good girl.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Alina climbs smoothly into the back of the car, leaning around your seat to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Happy birthday, little dove.”

A frown creases at your brows as you turn to look at her, blinking in surprise even as your stomach flips at her gentle gesture of affection.

“I- Thank you.”

She grins, leaning back into her seat and clicking her seatbelt into place. Baffled at her affectionate greeting - and by the fact that she remembered your birthday this year - you put the car into gear and set off towards their house.

When you arrive, Alina takes your hand, tugging you through the garage, towards the door which leads into their house. Her fingers slip through yours as she moves up the three little steps, disappearing into what you assume is their hallway.

Aleksander is there holding the door open, and he inclines his head in the direction of the hallway which you can now see leads further into their house.

“Come on, little dove.”

You blink at him. None of their drivers have ever been invited into their house and very few Morozova employees are even allowed into the building.

“Inside?” you ask. He nods.

Faltering at the threshold, you look down at your feet, eyeing your worn old boots cautiously. Then you glance nervously at Aleksander.

“Should I take my shoes off?”

He tilts his head aside for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching, before he nods.

“If you don’t mind.”

Bending over, you unlace your boots and nudge them over to the side of the hallway while Aleksander walks towards the living room. He shrugs his suit jacket from his shoulders, folding it over the back of the sofa.

Alina smiles at you, nodding towards the kitchen.

“Drink?” she asks you. You blink at her.

“Oh, um, no thank you.”

“Would you like a tour?”

Thoroughly confused, yet eager to see more of their private space, you nod. They show you the dining room, the patio space, the pool room. Everything is just as luxurious as you expected. The last room they show you is their bedroom.

Aleksander sits down at the foot of the bed, his legs spread comfortably and you ache at the sight of his thighs, eyeing your favourite place to sit. Then he beckons to you.

“Come here.”

Anticipation prickling over your skin, you sit down beside him. Alina retrieves something from her beside cabinet, slipping a smooth cardboard box into your lap. Once you’ve loosen the lid, revealing the contents hidden beneath luxury sheets of tissue paper, Aleksander presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Happy birthday, little dove.”

You stare down into the box, eyeing the delicate silver choker there.

“I-”

“It’s just a little something,” Alina says quietly. “To remind you of who you belong to.”

You turn to look at her sharply, holding her dark gaze for a long moment.

“Would you put it on for me?” you ask.

There’s a small click as the clasp closes, the metal encircling your throat perfectly. They exchange a heated look and desire blooms in your stomach. Alina’s hands wander slowly over your body, cupping your breasts and casually circling her thumbs over your clothed nipples.

“Alina…” you whisper in a desperate plea.

“What do you want?”

“You. Touch me, please.”

She leans in, kissing you passionately. A moan of pure relief wracks through your body as you sink back onto the bed, Alina pushing you down to lie beneath her. Fuelled by need, you grind your hips upwards to meet hers as she straddles your waist.

Her hands slip up your shirt, grabbing eager fistfuls of your breasts, searching for your nipples. When she finds them, she tugs, your back arching at the sensation. Her mouth descends onto your neck, pressing kisses over the sensitive skin there. But she’s kissed your neck countless times. Now that you’ve tasted her lips you’re desperate for more.

Even now, she can’t resist teasing you, lifting her head up out of reach as you try to kiss her again. A whine catches in the back of your throat and she laughs softly. She doesn’t keep you waiting long, ducking her head down to kiss you again which pulls a moan from you.

You think you might be addicted to her lips.

Aleksander curls his fingers around the nape of your neck, pulling your face towards his. His mouth moves slowly against yours, swallowing each of your moans.

He kisses along your jawline, nipping lightly with his teeth which leaves a trail of blooming marks over your skin. He licks over your collarbones, a small sound of pleasure catching in his chest. He murmurs a quiet admission against the hollow of your throat.

“I want you to say my name.”

There’s no hesitation.

“Aleksander,” you whisper. He groans.

Alina shares a look with her husband and they appear to exchange some sort of silent conversation. Then she slides her leg around your waist, flipping you over so that you’re on top of her. Aleksander places his hands on your waist, tilting your hips upwards.

The head of his cock slides against your entrance, slowly carving a space for himself inside you. A desperate whimper catches in your throat at the burning stretch and your forehead drops down to press against Alina’s shoulder.

“S’too big. Aleksander.”

“You’ve seen Alina take me before, haven’t you?” he asks, a breathless edge to his voice.

They both share a grin when you nod, reminding all three of you of the intimate moments you’ve witnessed between them both.

After the initial stretch, the wet slick of your arousal helps Aleksander to slide deeper into you, drawing out a near pornographic moan from your chest. Pleasure floods up your spine, filling your head with a heady bliss that clouds your thoughts.

When you glance down between your open thighs, noticing he’s only halfway inside you, a weak sob of frustration heaves at your shoulders.

“Alina. It’s too much.”

She shushes you, brushing a stray stand of hair from your forehead.

She breathes out a soft moan, pressing her palm against your stomach - directly over the place where Aleksander’s cock is buried inside you. When she applies a little more force, you squirm at the sensation.

“Sasha,” she sighs, her voice breathy. “I can feel you inside her.” Her teeth tug at your earlobe. “Don’t you feel full, little dove?”

You nod hurriedly.

Aleksander grits his teeth into a near snarl, jaw muscles clenching as he pushes the last few inches of his cock inside you. He breathes out harshly, a rushed exhale that you feel brushing over your shoulder before he groans at the feeling of being completely consumed by the heat of your cunt.

“That’s our girl. Our good fucking girl.”

His words stumble out of him and your cunt clenches at the praise. He presses a line of kisses over your shoulders, lips suckling on your skin before his tongue traces over the marks left there.

A broken moan reverberates through Alina’s chest, her head tilting back into the plush pillow beneath her head. With her neck bared, you can see every throb of her pulse as it pounds under the delicate skin of her throat. Aleksander breathes out a soft laugh.

“Can I tell you a secret, little dove?” he murmurs against your cheek, soft breathy pants accompanying his words. You nod hurriedly. “Alina is just as pathetic as you are.” His hand grasps your jaw, turning your head so that you’re face to face with Alina. “Look at her.”

Alina’s cheeks are burning red, flushed brighter than you’ve ever seen them. There’s a bashfulness in her expression that she’s trying to hide, but the way her eyes bounce from your chest to your lips - avoiding your eyes - tells you everything.

Aleksander tightens his hold on your hip, grasping a fistful of your hair as he adjusts the angle of his thrusts, filling you perfectly with his cock. The slow roll of his hips has you drooling over Alina’s collarbone.

“And I think I can unravel her just by bumping your pretty clits together.”

Alina’s messy cunt slips beside yours, swollen bundles of nerves catching against each other. The subtle scrape of pubic hair grazes both of your sensitive buds, making the two of you gasp and writhe.

“What do you think, Alya?” he asks. The dark mocking in his tone is so familiar, but you’ve never heard it directed at Alina. From the small whine that catches in the back of her throat, this is a rare treat for her.

Her nipples brush against the soft curves of your breasts, occasionally nudging into your own nipples as you grind together. Each of Aleksander’s thrusts have you knocking against Alina’s clit, violent sparks of pleasure winding the coil tighter inside you.

Aleksander breathes out a laugh, though he chokes on it slightly as your cunt tightens around his cock. Arousal sticks to your thighs, though you’re not certain whose it is. Alina’s eyes flutter closed, her mouth drops open and her brows crinkle together.

“Alina, please,” you whisper.

She bursts beneath you, crying out as she climaxes. It doesn’t take much more for you to follow alongside her, cunt clenching rapidly around Aleksander’s cock. You arch into their bodies, writhing between them.

Alina’s breathing is rapid in your ear, little shaky gasps as she begins to come down from your simultaneous highs. Aleksander breathes out harshly, his cock still rigid inside you as pleasure thrums around your body. He slowly eases himself out of you with a low groan.

“Look at these perfect little cunts. All wet and needy for me.” He traces his fingertip over the curve of your ass, hands spreading your cheeks so that he can examine your dripping cunt. “Which one should I fill with my cum?”

Alina whines.

“I’m your wife,” she protests petulantly.

Aleksander hums absently, mock indecision playing over his features. Seeing the woman who delights in belittling you brought down to your level - a needy whimpering mess - is painfully arousing.

“But our little dove has been empty for so long. Don’t you want to let her go first?”

Alina looks up at you. The two of you lock eyes with one another and one thing is abundantly clear - she does not want you to have Aleksander’s cum first. Her eyes darken and she reaches for your throat the moment your mouth descends onto hers in a hungry kiss.

It’s primal - the way you grasp at one another, hips bucking, nails digging into plush skin. Her teeth nip at your lower lip, drawing a small groan of frustration from you. Abandoning her lips, you move your attention down to her breasts, dragging your teeth over her skin.

She smacks your thighs, leaving a heated prickle of pain in the wake of her palm as you continue to kiss her body. The hold you have on her hips is fierce, reddened marks biting into her skin as you press your thigh against her soaked cunt. Alina tugs on your nipples, twisting the sensitive buds painfully.

She knows your every weakness, but your actions are fuelled by the months of teasing she’s put you through. In this moment, it appears you’re at a stalemate. Evenly matched in your ferocity to push the other into submission.

When you glance over at Aleksander, he’s fisting his cock, gripping the base with white knuckles as he watches the two of you struggle with one another. His eyes meet yours and a shudder runs through your body.

He shifts forwards, moving between your thighs, manoeuvring you to lie draped over Alina with your legs spread wide. He presses the head of his cock against your entrance, stroking it against your twitching cunt, and you moan desperately.

Aleksander slams his hips into yours, filling you completely with one thrust which steals the breath from your lungs, toes curling as you cry out involuntarily. Every ounce of control you have over yourself disintegrates, subconsciously giving your body over to the two of them completely.

“Aleksander,” you cry weakly.

Alina grips your throat, while Aleksander continues his determined thrusts into your tight, wet cunt. The sound of skin slapping and the scent of sex hangs heavy in the air. They praise and degrade you constantly and the burning heat of pleasure and pain swims under your skin.

Aleksander swats your ass, the plush skin jostling with the motion of his hips combined with his smacks. Everything fades away, until you can only hear the wetness of your cunt and the rushing of blood in your ears. The world narrows down to the pleasure between your legs.

Alina’s hands are on your breasts, tugging on her favourite part of you. After months of being denied the two of them, being between them now is borderline overwhelming.

Every time Alina’s lips meet yours for a kiss, your cunt tightens. The feeling of clenching around Aleksander’s cock has pleasure shooting through your body, especially when his thrusts nudge the head of his cock against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

A sharp cry of their names, and several loud curses, escape your lips and you grip onto Alina’s waist, nails biting into her skin as you writhe between them, your body hurtling into a dizzying climax.

Aleksander continues to drive his cock into you, wrecked moans reverberating from deep in his chest as he grasps onto your hips. He keeps you held open for him, ignoring your whimpers as your cum seeps from your abused little cunt.

His hips go still as he orgasms, his cum spilling into you and he breathes out a soft moan. Aleksander lowers his forehead down onto your shoulder, damp strands of hair tickling your skin while he revels in his own high. A giddiness fills your chest and a bright smile tugs at your lips.

When he pulls out of you, the feeling of his hot cum slips from your cunt, dripping down onto Alina’s. There’s a dull ringing in your ears and all the tension in your body seems to melt. With shaking hands, you reach down to her clit, using your release to rub slow, slick circles that have her writhing beneath you.

She gasps your name and the fuzziness in your head seems to double in its intensity. Aleksander’s hand joins yours, guiding your motions to help you bring Alina to her peak. She moans deeply, back arching as she succumbs to her orgasm.

Her chest heaves, nipples brushing unintentionally against your chest as she catches her breath. There’s a shakiness in your limbs and you collapse weakly onto Alina. She threads a hand slowly through your hair, tracing distracted circles over your skin.

The warmth of Aleksander’s body disappears as he lifts himself up from the two of you, standing at the foot of the bed with his hands settled on the sheets. His gaze is heavy on you both as Alina nudges you gently, until you’re sitting up on their bed beside one another.

Alina tilts her head, glancing over at her husband. She leans in to whisper against the shell of your ear, mischief dancing in her dark eyes.

“Should we lick his cock clean?”

Biting down on your lower lip, you nod at her with a soft, excited laugh which she shares. Aleksander tilts his head at you both, a curious twinkle in his dark eyes. He smirks.

“What are you two giggling at?”

Lowering your gaze coyly, you smile at him as Alina squeezes affectionately at your throat.

“Nothing, Sasha.”

His cock twitches and your stomach flips.

Alina moves towards his cock first, licking a broad stripe up from the head to the base, her nose brushing against the collection of dark curls there. The soft groan from Aleksander is all the incentive you need to join her.

The two of you lick over his softened cock, tongue lapping up the mixture of cum - both his and yours. The sticky substance smears over your lips and you mouth over his cock, occasionally meeting with Alina’s mouth for a sloppy kiss.

Aleksander’s cock jerks at the sight before him and he takes hold of the base to tap the sticky head of his cock against your cheek. His cum smears over your face, and your cheeks burn at the demeaning action. A delighted smile tugs at Alina’s lips before she licks up the mess from your face with a pleased little hum.

He ducks his head down for a messy kiss. The three of you settle down at the head of the bed, swapping each other’s mouths between one another - sucking on lips and tracing tongues. They both reach between your thighs, scooping up the arousal clinging to the lips of your cunt and sucking the remains from their fingers as you lie together on their bed.

The next morning, you wake up nestled between them both with silk covers draped over your body. There’s a pleasurable ache between your legs. The skin of your ass cheeks and thighs are sensitive when you shift slightly, tender skin brushing against the smooth sheets.

Alina hums quietly beside you, sleepily wrapping her arms around your waist. She drops a light, sleepy kiss onto your shoulder. Her other hand is already holding a fistful of your hair, keeping you close to her.

Aleksander sighs, his hand slipping between you and Alina, sliding down your back. There’s a dull sting when his fingers brush against the scratch marks there. He kisses your collarbone gently. He places a few slow kisses over your neck, his nose nudging against the numerous marks bitten and bruised into your skin from the events of last night.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“What do you think of it?” Aleksander asks, looping his arms around your waist as you admire the newest addition to the garage.

The car in front of you is magnificent, sleek edges, painted a pretty pearlescent cream that shimmers in the cool light. Unlike Alina’s favourite car, there’s four seats, though it has a similar luxurious design.

“It’s beautiful.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth at your praise. “Have you thought of a name for it?”

He hums quietly with a small nod and you turn to him expectantly. He shares a look with Alina and his smile widens.

“Dove.” That single word makes your heart skip a beat. Then Alina grins.

“Would you like to christen it?”

Biting down on your lower lip, you nod with a smile. She takes your hand, tugging you over to towards the car.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire @dhampiravidi

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

[aftersamu]

THE EXIT PAIRING: r.suna x gn!reader GENRE: angst + exposure of the bet trope (enemies to lovers to enemies)

it gets personal at the end, and this has such a different energy to anything i've written before. like there's harsh words, fucked up tropes, and it's definitely more 2010 teen drama. proceed with caution <3

a party.

people crowding the living room and backyard of the house, 20+ bottles of alcohol, red cups lining every table and surface, casual hookups, and girls rushing to the bathroom to throw up, and others blacked out on the grass.

you lost suna throughout the night, got invested in a conversation with a girl you've never spoken to before. and once you realised he was gone, you searched for him.

asking around for his whereabouts, getting closer and closer to finding a distinct location. osamu told you where to go, and you went. ducking underneath the velvet rope blocking off steps, and heading up.

turning every corner, trying to open every door, with a ear pressed to each closed surface. and down the hall, at the corner, a small ray of light illuminates the hallway.

you walk forward, starting to hear the hushed conversation and walking on your toes, holding your breath in your chest as you approach the slightly opened door.

back pressing against the wall, hiding in the shadows you listen. maybe it's nothing serious and you're being nosey, feeding off drama that might not even involve you.

until you hear your name.

"so, how are things going between the two of you?" atsumu, his voice is easily identifiable. "it's been a couple months since they've stopped hating you, i take it's a good sign."

"look, i don't think this is a good idea anymore." suna sighs, "it was fun for a while, but it's getting pretty serious now."

"you going soft rintarō?" atsumu teases, "i thought you hated that bitch, now you're sympathetic? what happened?"

"i don't know man, my fucking morals kicked in, i guess." suna quips, he's frustrated. you can see his shadow pacing around. "look this was fun, the games, but i don't know if i can do it anymore."

"so... you fucked?" atsumu bluntly remarks, "come on mate, i'm not stupid. you wouldn't be backing out unless you two fucked."

"yeah, well, it happened and now i'm screwed because you're a dickhead and i'm an idiot." suna scoffs, "it ends now, i'll give you the money, i don't want to do this stupid bet anymore."

bet. of fucking course, how cliche of them. how naive of you to think of giving suna a chance, he's a dickhead, you knew that. but, there's no way he spent six months trying to get in good with you for a bet.

no amount of money could have him commit for this long. or at least you think, it was a moment of boredom and a way to make easy money. two rich kids who have nothing better to do other than drop a grand on a bet.

a gambling scheme.

with twist and turns, challenges and money rewards. to keep them both interested in the little plan, one that has been pulled straight from a reality tv show.

"you're backing out now? it's been half a year, i think it's too late to feel remorse now." atsumu states, "do you need a recap of how much money we've bet? do you know how much money has been exchanged during this entire ordeal?"

"no, i don't, and don't be a dick." suna snaps, "you are just as much a part of this as i am."

"yeah, but i wasn't the one who brought it up." atsumu retorts, "i wasn't the one who stood up, and bet that i could get in good with them. that i could manipulate them with my killer charm."

"yes, but you proposed those sick side bets. bring them to the party, kiss them on this day, get them to make the first move within a week." suna mocks, "you're no better than me."

"so what? you going to go down there and tell them that you've been manipulating them for a little extra cash? that you've been fucking around with others the same time you've been buying them flowers, and making them eggs in the morning?"

your heart is beating hard against your chest, is it the anger, sadness, or alcohol that's giving you vertigo? is it the betrayal that causes all feeling to escape from your body, or is it how you feel like a complete idiot that sends you barging into the room.

you kick the door wide open, face red, and eyes already watering. the look of shock on suna's face and fear that paints it, and atsumu's smugness ever so present.

"don't even try." you say, holding up a finger to stop the brunette from saying anything. it's so funny, you can't seem to stop the manic smile from growing on your lips.

"let me explain–"

"oh, yeah sure. i don’t hate you babe, i never hated you, i love you, you’re everything i need. you’re the only one who understands me, and sees me. i can’t hate you." you mock, bringing up the words he spoke to you. "shut the fuck up suna."

it's as if those months have vanished, and all you feel is pure hate and rage towards those eyes that you thought you loved.

"you definitely outdid yourself with this one, this whole fucking twisted six month plan of yours.” you dryly laugh, bringing your hands up, "oh, but love, i don't feel that way, i tried to back out." you mimic. "go fuck yourself."

god, you seem so delusional.

"it's not like that!"

"yeah, and i like totally care." you say, rolling your eyes, "you don't mean shit. so pay miya what you owe and move on, because you lost! that's what you get for being a fucking cunt."

"love, you're drunk." suna sighs, taking a step towards you.

"don't come near me," you deadpan. "you manipulative, sick fuck. you will never be good enough for anybody, no one will ever love you, your sister doesn't even want to see you. i see you, and you're an insecure, needy, fucking freak."

you want to strike a nerve, and you know you have. you want to cause pain, regain some dignity that you've lost. you may have seen the worst of him, but he has not seen the worst of you.

"i'm done with you, i fucking hate you... and you're friends are hotter."

[praetorqueenreyna]

counterintelligence, Nesta/Eris, Eris Week Day 6: Modern AU

Please enjoy, this is just a goofy light-hearted fake dating modern AU. There is lots of Cassian slander tho.

@erisweek2023

Read here on AO3!!

”I need a favor.”

Eris stared at the text message in disbelief. It had come through several minutes ago, and he was no closer to puzzling out what it meant. Sure, people often asked him for favors. He was smart and rich and good at problem-solving. But those people were not usually Nesta Archeron.

After running through several dozen scenarios in his head, he finally texted her back.

”What?”

A nanosecond after the text registered as being delivered, the phone began to ring in his hand. “Nesta Archeron” flashed on the screen. Bemused, he answered the phone.

“Hello?”

Nesta got right down to business. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for Elain’s wedding.”

It took a lot to truly surprise Eris, but that certainly did it. “I’m sorry, what?”

A huff of frustration, as if he were the one being vague and irritating. “Cassian and I broke up a month ago.”

Another surprise. A good one, if he was being honest. Eris had always fucking hated Cassian. They had grown up in the same social circles; Cassian had weaseled into Rhysand's friend group when they were children, and their families had been in the same industry for decades. Cassian maintained that Eris was a classist who disliked Cassian because he was poor. That wasn’t strictly true: Eris disliked Cassian because he was an asshole. But he had found that Cassian was sensitive about his class status, and so it was something Eris often mocked him for.

When he had met Nesta, he had had no idea what she had seen in Cassian. She was intelligent and biting, and he was a 20-something year old man that still acted like a college frat guy. Somehow they had managed to stay together for two years without either of them murdering each other.

“He’s the best man, and I’m the maid of honor,” Nesta continued. “And he’s bringing fucking Mor. I’d rather eat glass than go to this wedding by myself.”

Ah, Morrigan. Both Eris and Cassian had dated her briefly in the past, but only one of them had ever moved on. Whenever Eris saw the whole group together, he could sense the tension between Nesta and Mor from across the room. Christ. He wasn’t one who felt a lot of sympathy for others, but wow, Nesta had been royally screwed.

“That’s shitty, I’ll admit. What does any of that have to do with me?”

“Don’t play dumb, Eris. Cassian hates you. He’ll be furious when he sees you there. And I know you hate him too. You can’t tell me you don’t want to piss him off. I’ll even let you be the one to tell him we’re together.”

The offer was too good to refuse. There was almost nothing Eris would love nothing more than to look in Cassian’s big stupid face and tell him that he was with his ex. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Perfect. The wedding is in three days. Text me your address, I’ll pick you up at two.” With that, Nesta hung up on him. Eris stared at the dead phone in his hands, still trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Eris didn’t hear from Nesta for the rest of the week. He texted her once, to ask for the color of her dress so that he could buy a matching tie and pocket square. She sent him a close up of a patch of fabric that was dusty rose in color.

The day of the wedding arrived and Eris was weirdly nervous. Quite frankly, he didn’t know Nesta very well. He had met her a few times, and flirted with her to piss off Cassian. And now they were about to spend several hours together pretending to be dating. He forced himself to sit and read all morning, knowing that if he started getting ready he would spend several hours fidgeting in his suit and messing with his hair.

His doorbell rang at two on the dot. He opened the door to reveal Nesta, looking even more beautiful than he had remembered. Her hair was bound in an intricate crown of braids, and her mauve dress flowed loosely around her body, both hiding and revealing creamy skin in equal measure. He once again marveled that an oaf like Cassian had managed to keep her for more than fifteen minutes. She scanned him from head to toe, mouth pursed. “Hmm.”

“Is there a problem?” Eris asked, slightly offended. In his own unbiased opinion, he looked very dashing. His suit was immaculate; not a speck of dog hair marred the charcoal gray. He had found a tie that perfectly matched Nesta’s dress, and his shoes had been polished so they shone.

“It’s nothing.” Nesta turned away, clearly expecting Eris to follow her. He debated calling the whole thing off and slamming the door. But Nesta turned back, one hand on her car door, and Eris put together a dozen tiny details that he had missed when she was right in his face. Her mascara was smudged and her eyes were tinged red. The patch of fabric over her thigh was wrinkled from her twisting her hand into it. There was a semicircle of half-moon imprints on her left arm, as if she had dug the nails of her right hand into the flesh. Nesta was anxious and miserable and furious, all in one. And she had signed herself up to pretend to like him for several hours, which wasn’t going to make her feel much better.

Without a word, Eris slid into the passenger seat of her car.

“We reconnected two weeks ago. You came into my work, we started talking, and I gave you my number. We started dating a few days after that.” Nesta regaled him with their romantic history as she drove. Her eyes were glued to the road in front of her. The clipped, analytical tone actually put Eris more at ease. He could handle this. He was good at negotiations.

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a bartender at Rita’s.”

“Really?” Eris couldn’t hide his surprise. Nesta did not seem like someone well-equipped for customer service. Especially not when the customers were drunk and horny.

“Yes, really,” she snapped. “I’m in law school, and I needed a job that let me work nights, after classes.”

Once again, Eris was both impressed by Nesta and confused that she had been with Cassian for so long. How the fuck had that neanderthal captured her attention?

“Okay, that works. I’ve gone to Rita’s a few times.”

“I have a cat named Darcy. Elain got me into stupid reality TV shows and we watch the Bachelor together every year. I can cook, but I hate it, so we mostly eat out at the Thai place down the street.” Nesta’s cheeks pinkened, flustered over having to share even the most nonsensical details about her personal life. “That should be enough to get you through this wedding.”

She paused. Eris realized she was waiting for him to to return the favor, telling her just enough to get them through the reception without giving the game away. “I have four dogs. I still like going to the theaters to see new movies. I used to smoke, but I’m trying to quit.”

“What about work?”

“I’m the social media manager for my dad’s company.”

“What?” Nesta laughed, caught off guard. The corners of her eyes crinkled. Eris noticed for the first time that one of her front teeth was chipped. “Bullshit.”

Eris smiled despite himself. “I’m serious. I do all the brand awareness and brand imaging, but nowadays that’s mostly just social media. I try to convince the public that the company isn’t an evil corporation.”

“Is it?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Nesta laughed again. Eris could see himself becoming addicted to the sound. “Noted.”

The remainder of the drive passed quickly. They shared personal details back and forth, but with ease and warmth. It felt less like they were preparing each other for a trial and more that they were just getting to know each other. It was very much like a first date, if Eris were being honest.

Whatever camaraderie they had built up dissipated when Nesta pulled up in front of the wedding venue. He could practically see the steel wall shutting down, cutting her off from any potential heartbreak. “Are you ready?” she asked, cold and clipped. Without waiting for an answer, she got out of the car, barely waiting for him to follow her lead before she locked it and strode away.

Elain and Azriel were getting married in a cutesy old church, chosen more for its aesthetic than for any religious affiliation. The wedding was small; only a few dozen people were milling around the foyer, waiting for the ceremony to begin. It made it extremely easy to pick out Cassian, who was already glaring at them with his upper lip curled into a snarl. Eris maintained eye contact as he wrapped one arm around Nesta’s waist, his own expression carefully schooled in its usual smooth confidence. Nesta tensed under his touch, but when she caught Cassian staring she relaxed, pressing herself against Eris’s side. He delighted at the fury that flashed in Cassian’s eyes. Just as he was contemplating the pros and cons of kissing Nesta in front of him, a call went out that the wedding was about to begin, and would everybody please take their seats. With a cheeky wave to his glowering adversary, Eris followed Nesta into the main hall.

As soon as they entered the nave, Nesta was swept away with the rest of the bridal party, presumably to some staging area so they could prepare to walk down the aisle. Eris scanned the crowd, hoping for at least one person who didn’t hate him that he could sit with. He settled on his youngest brother, who was sitting near the back with his boyfriend, Tamlin. Eris settled next to Lucien, who visibly jumped at his appearance.

“What are you doing here?” Lucien asked. “Did I see you coming in with Nesta?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later.” The familiar beginning notes of “Here Comes The Bride” resonated through the hall, forestalling any more questions. A procession began making its way down the center aisle. Eris could pick out a few people that he recognized, such as Feyre, Rhysand, and Mor. The maid of honor and best man walked down side by side. Both Nesta and Cassian were making an attempt to pretend everything was fine, but the resentment between them followed them like a dark cloud. It was a visible relief when they separated at the altar. Azriel was next, dashing as ever in his tailored suit. Last was the bride herself, accompanied by her father. Elain moved slowly, both for the benefit of the photographer and to make sure that her father, with his injured leg, could keep up.

The ceremony was fine. It was short, which Eris deeply appreciated. A lot of people were crying by the end of it. Eris didn’t know enough about Elain and Azriel to know if their marriage would last. His cynicism said it was unlikely. Besides, they were the least interesting thing on the altar. He found his gaze constantly drawn to Nesta. She watched her younger sister with a softness he had yet to see in her. A few times he caught her dabbing under her eyes with the pad of her finger, clearly trying to keep tears from ruining her eye makeup. A new wave of hatred for Cassian rose up in him, startling him. He had tried to ruin this for Nesta in the name of “winning” the breakup. Eris resolved to be as obnoxious as possible for the rest of the evening.

The reception was held behind the church. Dinner was served on the patio, and the garden was festooned with fairy lights. To Eris’s delight, being the date of the maid of honor meant sitting at the same table as the entire wedding party, most of whom despised him. The looks he received ranged from abject disgust (Cassian and Rhysand) to plain suspicion (Mor and Feyre). The only people who didn’t seem to care about him were Feyre’s wife, Lena, and Rhysand’s date, a smirking red-headed woman.

“Lovely ceremony,” Eris said brightly, breaking through the tension that his presence caused at the table. He stretched out his arms, resting one against the back of Nesta’s chair. Nesta, in turn, leaned back so her shoulders were pressed against his forearm.

“It was,” Feyre agreed. She opened her mouth to say more, but Cassian interrupted her.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Eris raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m my girlfriend’s plus one.”

“Uh huh,” Cassian replied, unconvinced. “What’s your angle?”

That got a chuckle out of Eris. “I don’t have some evil master plan. I’m just here to enjoy the party. Be the arm candy.” He brushed his fingers across Nesta’s cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Not that anyone is looking at me when I’m next to this gorgeous woman.”

Nesta gave him an odd look, and for a moment Eris feared he had overstepped the bounds of their fake relationship. Then she smiled and looked down, the perfect picture of a flattered partner. It was cute, almost cute enough to be able to ignore Cassian’s scowling.

“How long have you two been together?” Mor cut in, a pleasant smile pasted on her face.

“Only a couple weeks.” Eris nodded towards Mor and Cassian. “What about you?”

The smile was gone. “About the same.”

“Odd. I could have sworn you two have been on and off again for years,” Eris drawled. “I’m sure it’ll stick this time.”

Now both Mor and Cassian looked like they wanted to kill him. “Seriously Nes, what the fuck are you doing with him?” Cassian growled. “Is this just to piss me off?”

“Shockingly, who I choose to date has nothing to do with you,” Nesta responded. “And don’t call me that.”

“Nes, come on—”

“Stop it!” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down. “You stopped being allowed to tell me what to do when you cheated on me with her.” She didn’t need to gesture towards Mor to indicate who exactly she was talking about. Every time Eris thought he couldn’t get more annoyed, he was proven wrong. The sheer nerve for Cassian to actually cheat on Nesta, and then act like Nesta was in the wrong for bringing Eris? The fact that he was only here to cause drama didn’t seem relevant. Cassian deserved everything that was coming to him.

Nesta deliberately turned in her seat to strike up a conversation with Feyre. As she did, she intertwined one of her hands with one that Eris had been resting on the table. In full view of everyone, she raised their entangled hands to her mouth and pressed her lips against his knuckles. She moved casually, as if the display of affection were subconscious. A woman reaching out to her partner for reassurance. She was a much better actor than Eris would ever have given her credit for.

Dinner seemed to pass at an excruciatingly slow pace. Eris was hyper aware that Cassian was watching their every move. Nesta was all over him: a hand on his shoulder while she whispered in his ear, playing with the tips of his hair in between courses, using her thumb to wipe away crumbs from the corner of his mouth. It was difficult for Eris to focus on the conversation when he was surrounded by Nesta’s soft touches and the savory scent of her perfume. The temptation to bury his face in her neck and inhale deeply was overwhelming. He distracted himself by talking, engaging with almost everyone at the table. He couldn’t give a rat’s ass about these people, but he knew how to turn on the charm when it was required. And seeing steam come out of Cassian’s ears as Eris joked with his friends made it all worth it.

Finally, finally, they got through dinner and cake, toasts and first dances. Pop music pumped through the speakers, and everybody vacated the tables in favor of the dance floor. With a minute to themselves, Eris leaned in towards Nesta. “How am I doing?”

“Fantastic. I’ve never seen Cassian so furious.”

Eris preened at the praise, but the smirk slid off his face when he caught Nesta staring wistfully at the dance floor. Cassian and Mor were wrapped up in each other’s arms, giggling. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Nesta lied. She scrabbled for her purse that was draped over the back of her chair. “We can go. You’ve done more than enough for me.”

“We don’t have to.” Eris didn’t know why he was arguing. He wouldn’t gain anything by staying. But if they left now, Nesta would drop him off and then go home and sulk, and he’d never see her again. “I don’t want to go.”

“Eris,” Nesta huffed. “Stop fucking around.”

“I’m not.” He rose to his feet and took Nesta’s hand in his. “I want to dance.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” For the first time ever, Eris was grateful that his parents had made him take dance lessons. He twirled Nesta under his arm, causing her to shriek in surprise. When he spun her back to him, she was grinning. She had clearly had formal dance training as well; she matched him effortlessly, falling into step even when he shifted dance styles and moves. She was his favorite kind of dance partner, the kind who could read his body language and predict what he was going to do, and match him perfectly. It resulted in an effortless, elegant dance that looked like a choreographed routine. It was likely that the rest of the wedding had formed a circle around them, applauding and shouting encouragement instead of dancing themselves. He couldn’t say for sure, because he couldn’t take his eyes off of Nesta. She was the embodiment of grace, her dress whirling around her like rosy wings. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, but she was laughing, free as a bird.

The song ended and Eris lowered Nesta in a dramatic dip. Her hands, which were around the back of his neck, tugged his head down to meet hers. She crashed their lips together, and Eris’s brain short-circuited. A live wire of electricity shot down his body, almost startling him into dropping her. He had heard people talk about experiencing fireworks when they kissed, but this was beyond that. This was a lightning storm, consuming him from the inside out and leaving him starving for more.

One of the greatest moments of Eris’s life was rudely interrupted by Feyre grabbing Nesta and jerking her away from him. “Elain wants to to take some pictures in the garden, just the three of us,” she explained. Nesta allowed herself to be dragged away, shooting him an annoyed glance over her shoulder. Eris consciously refrained from touching his lips with his fingers in the wake of the kiss, like some kind of goddamn Victorian era romance heroine. It was all a show, nothing more. Nesta only kissed him as a ploy to aggravate her ex. Not because she liked him.

The ploy worked a little too well, judging by the way Cassian was staring at him, as if hoping he would spontaneously burst into flames. Eris’s smug grin got a lot less smug when the larger man began to actually stride towards him across the dance floor. An actual confrontation wasn’t part of the plan.

“Whatever game you think you’re playing with Nes, you better stop before she gets hurt,” Cassian rumbled.

It took all of Eris’s willpower to not take a step back. Cassian was a foot taller than him, and twice as broad. “Of the two of us, I’m not the one who’s been playing games with Nesta,” he replied, his eyes sliding meaningfully over to Mor.

Cassian’s eyes flashed. “You don’t know anything about me, asshole. I still care about her.”

“Sure. I guess caring about her means that you’re allowed to move on and she isn’t.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

High on the adrenaline of the verbal match, Eris couldn’t help but goad him further. “I understand why you’re mad. Nesta was always too good for you. I’m guessing you wanted her to pine after you and stay single so you can go crawling back when Mor inevitably dumps your idiotic, inbred—”

Before Eris could say “ass,” and finish his devastating insult, his head exploded in pain. It was like someone had hit him in the face with a brick, knocking him to the ground and leaving him gasping for air. His vision cleared and revealed Cassian standing over him, still brandishing a curled fist. Somebody in the crowd screamed and a clamor of voices went up, but all Eris could focus on was the fact that Cassian was about to beat him to death.

“What the fuck?” Like a guardian angel, Nesta had returned just in time. She shoved her way through the crowd and crouched down next to him. He gave her his most charming smile, which was somewhat compromised by the fact that he was pretty sure his nose was broken and blood was dripping out of his mouth.

“He—” Cassian started to defend himself, but Nesta whirled around and shoved him in the chest. He stumbled back, more from shock than the push itself.

“Get out of here. And if you ever try to talk to me again, I’ll fucking kill you.” Nesta’s rage was a physical force. Even Cassian wasn’t stupid enough to defy her. He shut his mouth and stormed off. Nesta turned back to Eris, her hands gripping his wrists like iron shackles as she hauled him to his feet. Holy shit, she was strong. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, to him and only him, ignoring the rest of the gaping wedding party. Eris was more than happy to follow her out of the main hall and away from so many incriminating stares.

Nesta led him to the small room where the bridal party had gotten ready before the ceremony. Empty bottles of wine were scattered around, and a confusing mix of perfume scents hung in the air. She guided him to a chair, instructed him to stay put, and disappeared. Eris slumped over, completely exhausted but still buzzing with energy. Nesta returned with a stack of fluffy white towels she had managed to berate one of the staff members into giving her. She bent over Eris, wiping the blood from his face. He hissed when the towel touched his nose, sending a blinding bolt of pain through him. Nesta paused, then resumed her work with a lighter touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said. The tightness in her voice revealed that that wasn’t a phrase she said often. “This was a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have let things get that far.”

“It’s fine,” Eris waved it off. “You might be shocked to learn that this isn’t the first time I’ve been punched in the face.”

The twitch of her mouth into a brief smile filled Eris with light, and suddenly his face didn’t hurt so bad. “Well, I’m still sorry. I dragged you into this and I’ve been a bitch all day.”

“No you haven’t.” Nesta snorted, and Eris corrected himself. “Okay, you have. But I get it. I’ve done a lot worse over a lot less.”

Nesta pinched together a corner of the towel that wasn’t yet covered in blood and meticulously wiped around his nostrils. She was leaning close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek. “This was all so stupid. I hate how much I let him hurt me, even now.”

“Are you still in love with him?”

Her surprised snort answered him before she responded. “No, of course not.” The towel dragged across Eris’s mouth and chin. His face should be clean by now. “It just sucks how much of my life is still about him. I can’t get away from him. He’s dug in, like a tick. If I want to have a relationship with my sisters, I have to deal with him. And he is such an asshole.”

“Yeah, I could have told you that years ago.” Eris worked up the nerve to ask the question he had been wanting to ask for ages. “Why were you with him for so long?”

Nesta sighed. “I don’t know. It wasn’t all bad. And when it was, I figured that’s what I deserved.”

“That’s stupid.” Maybe it was the blood loss, the blow to the head, the adrenaline. Maybe he was still reeling from their fake kiss. But his mouth kept moving and words kept pouring out. “You’re so cool and smart and beautiful. You deserve, like, a tech billionaire who is also an astronaut who is also a model.”

At that, Nesta laughed, low and husky. She studied him with clear gray eyes, only inches from his face. “Well, if you know any tech billionaires-slash-astronauts-slash-models, you can introduce me.” She carelessly dropped the bloodied towel on the ground and straightened up, pulling Eris to his feet. “Are you finally ready to leave?”

The ride back to Eris’s house was in companionable silence. Nesta had led Eris by the hand through the main reception area, ignoring all the people who tried to stop her and ask what had happened. Oddly enough, she seemed in a better mood now, and Eris didn’t want to ruin it. She walked him to his front door and he dallied unlocking it, unsure if inviting her inside would be taken well and not wanting to scare her off.

“Well that was…” Eris trailed off, searching in vain for a polite description of the evening. “Terrible.” Nesta chuckled, which he took as a good sign. “But it wasn’t all bad. Let me know if you want to piss anyone else off.”

Nesta hummed thoughtfully. “You know, there’s a really shitty barista at the coffee shop on campus. I bet you could make him cry in less than five minutes.”

Eris’s heartbeat quadrupled. Unless he was mistaken, that sounded like a coffee date. “Yeah? I’d be down for that.”

Nesta grinned and leaned forward, pressing her cool lips against his cheek. “Great. I’ll call you.”

With a hand on his cheek, he watched Nesta get in her car and drive away until she was completely out of sight.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Masquerade

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

Warnings: Homophobia and abuse. Lowkey wrote this bc some ppl in my family are pretty homophobic and I figured I'd try to write out how I feel and all that shit. Anyways, that's why this is how it is.

Summary: Reader runs into a stranger who makes the boring dance she's forced to attend slightly more tolerable.

* Not Proof Read * TLOU Masterlist

Idfk how royal shit works so that part of this might be bad. Just play along.

*****

I look around at the happy girls twirling around me. How the fuck are they so enthusiastic about being here? These shoes are killing me. This mask is itching my face. My clothes are irritating me. I want to go home.

I danced with one man already, can't that be enough to please my mother?

I can feel her frustrated gaze on the side of my face. All she wants is for me to marry a nice man. A nice rich man.

What she doesn't understand-what she refuses to understand, is that she'll never get that. No matter how many times I tell her, she seems to think one day the right man will come along and change my mind.

" I take it you're not a dancer? " A voice asks from my side.

" Quite the opposite. I like dancing. It's the people I hate. The parties. The drama. My mother. " I nod slightly in the direction of my mother. She's thankfully been roped into a conversation with another socialite. At least she's distracted.

" Parties are...draining. " The woman agrees.

I glance over at her, my posture quickly straightening. Even with the dark lacey mask that takes over majority of her face, I know exactly who it is. Her elegant dark blue suit is a stark contrast in outfit choices from many of the other guests, most opting for black or white.

" Princess Ellie. " I mutter while taking a deep curtsy. " I had no idea. I'm so sorry. "

Of course, only I'd be luck enough to shit talk a royal dance to the person who helped throw it.

" Oh please. Stand up. " Princess Ellie's voice is laced with annoyance.

Confused, I look up at the woman.

" It wasn't my idea for this stupid party. Sarah's been wanting to throw one for weeks. Of course I got roped into helping her. " Princess Ellie doesn't move from her spot against the wall. She takes a sip from her drink, eyeing me up.

I shift, slightly uncomfortable.

" You're welcome to lean back against the wall. " She nods to my previously taken spot. A glimmer of playfulness shines in her eyes. " I don't bite, I promise. "

Carefully, I take my spot back to the princess. " If you don't like parties, why did you come? " I ask curiously.

Princess Ellie shrugs, her shoulders brushing against mine. " Had nothing better to do. Figured I might as well find some pretty girls to talk to . " She grins slightly.

A feel a warm rush climb up my cheeks.

Of course I knew Princess Ellie was gay. Everyone and their mother knows. It caused quite the controversy when she was first caught making out with her now ex-girlfriend in front of thousands of people at her 17th birthday party.

I thought it was nice. I didn't feel so...alone. It was nice to feel normal, like my feelings were okay.

My mother didn't think so. She refuses to attend anything with Princess Ellie, insisting it'll 'ruin' me further.

" What's your name, pretty girl? " Princess Ellie asks, turning her body towards mine. She leans against her arm, cocking her head to the side. Her warm green eyes stare into mine, sending a hoard of butterflies tumbling through my chest.

" Y/N. " I manage to reply. " Y/N of Weston. "

" Well, Y/N of Weston, I'd love to take you- " Princess Ellie is interrupted.

" Y/N! " My mother shrieks. She roughly grabs my hand, pulling my away from the princess. She quickly curtsies and mumbles a polite 'your highness' before turning to me. " Apologies, Your highness but we have to go. "

" But mother-" I being to protest, trying to pull away. The tightness of her grip sends pain through my wrist. " Fuck, mom! " I yelp. I can already feel the bruise forming. My mother doesn't let up.

" Y/N no. " My mother's eyes are fierce, an anger I've never seen before flashing through them.

" Lessen your grip! " Princess Ellie orders, her voice laced with concern. " You're hurting them! "

The loud music has died down. All attention has turned to us. My mother, now clearly embarrassed from the situation, pulls me more urgently.

" What is going on here? " A voice asks. All chatter around the room quiets down.

The king.

My mother's eyes widen. " You're majesty! I'm so sorry. My daughter...she's not listening. You know, children. My husband...he's fallen ill. I'm merely trying to get her home. Our page just sent news. He's had a stroke. Forgive me for disturbing your dance. "

My heart drops. " What? "

My mother doesn't look at me. " Your father has had a stroke. "

Fear runs through my body. No! He can't be ill. He was doing just fine earlier. What happened?

King Joel scans over my expression, trying to decide what to do. " You may go. But release your daughter. "

My mother nods, letting go of my wrist. " Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you. Come now, Y/N. We must go. "

I glance up at Ellie. Her face displays concern and disbelief. She quickly turns to her father, whispering something into his ear. He brushes it off, shaking his head.

My mother and I curtsy and quickly turn to leave. I numbly follow in her footsteps.

This doesn't make sense? How did the page get here so fast? Our home is hours away from the palace. How was he able to get here so quickly?

Once we're down the long row of stairs, my mother grabs onto my arm. " You know better than to fraternize with the princess. " She hisses, pushing me into our carriage.

Confusion fills my body. " What? We were just talking. "

My mother glares at me. " You don't talk to women like her. You know this, Y/N. "

A pit begins building in my stomach. " Dad didn't have a stroke, did he. "

My mother's gaze doesn't faulter. " No. You are no longer allowed to go to parties at the palace. If you can't find a suitor for yourself, I guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands. I'll be picking a suitor for you. I already have the perfect boy. You're to be married in 2 months. "

My heart drops. " Mother, no! "

" I tried, Y/N. I really did. " She shakes her head. " I tried to let you grow out of this faze. To let you find a good man. You leave me no choice. You'll learn to love him just as I learned to love your father. "

" Please mother, you can't do this. " My voice is filled with desperation. I don't want to get married to a stranger. All I did was talk to Princess Ellie! " Please. "

My mother doesn't crack. " You'll thank me later. "

[callsigndragon]

Desperate times, desperate measures | ch. 5: Texas

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: mentions of death, alcoholic drinks, the whole squad not believing in Jake (poor guy), people having ✨feelings✨, jake's parents (yes, that deserves a warning)

A/N: changing the header until i decide what to do with the extra character that i have to eliminate and the one i have to add lol

It's okay if you like it and all, but please... a comment is also welcomed and if you reblog it? I'll kiss you on the forehead.

If you want to be added, comment down!

Masterlist

"There's no way you can keep it in your pants for a year," Bradley states, leaving his beer on the table. They're all sitting in one of the tables next to the darts  at the Hard Deck. It's their usual. Nobody sits there. 

Jake rolls his eyes, twirling the beer bottle in his hands. "I love some supportive friends." 

Mickey laughs, not raising his head while he scrolls on Instagram. "Jake, you like sex. I would say you even love sex."

"Yeah, what about it?"

The wizzo raises an eyebrow and puts his phone down. "You're gonna live with a hot girl for a year, with all that implies, and not be tempted to get laid even once?"

"I can do that." 

Is now Payback’s turn to show disbelief. "Man, chances are one day you open the bathroom door and she's there naked. That's gonna be frustrating." 

Jake’s leg bounces up and down. No, he's not imagining you naked. Not a chance. "Guys, this isn’t about me, okay? This is about Emma. And if I have to be a fucking celibate monk for a year, I'll be." 

"Sure thing, buddy," Nat says, getting up from her chair to get another drink. 

"Are we going to ignore the fact that you had a crush on her once?" Javy asks, making Jake widen his eyes, surprised at how his friend just exposed him like that in front of the rest of the group. 

"It was one time, and it was right before she dumped my ass.” Jake groans, looking away. 

“For her to dump your ass, you must have been dating in advance, and if I remember correctly, you didn’t even make it to the restaurant.” Rooster jokes, high fiving Payback and Fanboy. These three are always trying to find ways to mess up with the pilot. 

“I hate you all.” 

A comfortable silence falls over the table, all of them thinking about the way Jake’s life has changed so much in only a few weeks. Jake has always been a playboy, a ladies’ man, he knows he’s good looking and he has no shame in saying it out loud. But now he’s married and has a daughter. He could go out and hook with whatever girl he wanted. However, Jake is better than that. He has made a promise. By law, and by his own promise, he’s devoted to you. Not in a romantic way, but he respects you enough to know that you don’t deserve any of that. And he can’t go around fucking the first girl he mets if you are going to focus on emma for a whole year. 

“I’m taking the girls to my parents’ ranch next week.” 

This time, the silence is deafening. “Your parents. The same parents you don’t talk with after you broke the engagement with that rich country girl?” 

Javy’s words make everyone stare at Jake with open mouths. “You were engaged!?”

“Yeez, Nat, say it louder. I think even Cyclone has heard you from his office.” Jake should have known that this information would have been revealed sooner or later. But he wanted it to be on his terms—not like this. 

Rooster pushes his drink away, wiping a few beer droplets from his mustache. “Dude, you were engaged, you broke it off, and you’re going to show up there with not only a wife, but your best friend’s daughter?” 

With pursed lips and an unfocused gaze, Jake nods. He’s deep in thought, suddenly realizing that he is, indeed, going to rub it in his parents' faces about how he got married to another girl. Well, it seems like this is a win-win situation for everyone. “How I wish I could capture my dad’s face when he sees Page.” 

“Does she know about this?” Bob asks this while cleaning his glasses. 

Jake shakes his head. “I’ll tell her on the way there.” 

“Can I ask a question?” Payback says, raising a finger once he sees how the corner of Jake’s mouth twitches in an attempt to suppress a smile. “And don’t say I asked one already.” 

“Yeah, go ahead.” 

“Why didn’t you marry that girl?” 

For a second, Jake thought that he was about to ask what his feelings were toward Page. And he was afraid to think about it. It wasn’t love, that's for sure. But that infatuation he felt is becoming something more… and he’s not sure if he wants to or if he should, allow that to happen. “I didn’t want to.” 

“Was she hot?” 

“Damn, she was.” Javy says, and Jake is really close to throwing something at his friend for his running mouth. 

“Then?” 

“I didn’t love her.” 

The answer, as simple and logical as it seems, makes all the aviators in the table look at Jake with puzzled expressions, as if the words coming from his mouth weren’t his. “Oh, but you are able to feel love?” Natasha jokes, chuckling at her own joke. 

Jake knows it’s a joke, but he feels hurt. “I’m gonna go home and start packing things. Page is gonna start posting pictures of us on her insta, so it would be very helpful if you could comment on them, saying good things and how proud you are of us,” he mumbles while getting up. Bob looks at Rooster, telling him with only his eyes that he should go with Hangman, but Rooster knows better. Jake needs some time alone. “Oh, by the way. I am as able to feel love as anyone, in fact, I have been looking for it longer than any of you. I would appreciate it if you stopped thinking that I only go looking out for girls to put my dick in them.” 

And without leaving them time to reply, Jake leaves the Hard Deck. 

“I have to confess something.” 

Those are the words that Jake tells you once you’re on the road after landing in Houston, where his parents' ranch is. You didn’t imagine that those words would lead to him telling you how his parents wanted to marry him to this rich girl so they could save the ranch. Apparently, in the last ten years, the ranch has had more losses than profits, and this arrangement would have saved it. 

Now, however, nobody knows how much time there is until they have to close the ranch and leave that life behind. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Jake.” You tell him, not knowing what more to say. 

Jake shakes his head, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. “Don’t be. I don’t want to marry without being in love.” 

You can’t hold back your laugh. Ironic, isn’t it? He breaks off an engagement because he doesn’t want to marry without love, and here you are. Mrs. Seresin in the flesh, and not a bit of love between you two. 

“Well, you know what I mean, Page.” 

“I do, of course. But it seems like life has pulled the biggest uno reverse card.” 

It’s a way of seeing it, Jake thinks. But if he had to choose between marrying you again or marrying that country girl, he would choose you. 

Every single time. 

“We have to play the lovey-dovey couple, right?” You ask, knowing the answer already, but somehow just wanting to keep talking with him. Either to kill time or just because way down you enjoy talking with him.

"Yeah, but I don't think that's a problem for you, Miss Hollywood." He teases, looking at you.

"Oh, so now that you know my intentions as an actress, Page is now Miss Hollywood?"

Jake thinks for a second, scratching his chin while the other hand stays on the wheel. "Nah, you're always gonna be Page for me."

You don't realize how your smile makes him smile too.

The ranch is less than an hour away from Houston, fronting the Brazos River. The house is bigger than you imagine, and just looking at it from the outside makes you realize that this is not a small ranch and that the house itself costs a few million dollars. White paint covers the gable wall in front of you, and it looks very new. Not even one of the tiles from the clay roof is out of place, making you rethink all the information that Jake gave you on the way here. Why would he lie to you? 

But seeing the expression on Jake’s face tells you that he didn’t know that the house was in such a good state... as well as the rest of the ranch. 

Why, then, were they so persistent in getting Jake to marry this girl for money?

When the car comes to a halt, an elderly couple walks out of the main house. The lady is a carbon copy of Jake. The same hair, the same eyes. Same smile. She appears to be the sweetest woman you've ever seen, but there's something in her eyes and the way she looks at Emma, who is being held by Jake, that makes you want to get in the car and drive all the way back to Houston to catch the first flight to San Diego. 

Jake's father, on the other hand, gives you the creeps. Call it female intuition; call it whatever you want, but you don’t want to be alone with him. He has white hair, blue eyes, glasses, and stubble. From this distance, you’d say that he’s the same height as Jake, maybe even a bit taller. He looks like a good man, but the way his fist tightens around the silver buckle on his jeans makes you wonder how many times he has unbuckled that belt to hit Jake or his wife. 

“Jacob, my son! We weren’t expecting you so soon,” Jake’s mother says, approaching Jake to hug him. The soft wind ruffles her golden locks and rippling the hem of her white dress, allowing you to see her brown cowboy boots. 

“Hey, ma. Sorry for coming so soon. I don’t know when I’m going to be deployed, and I want you two to meet my wife.” He says, stepping back from his mother’s arms and placing his hand on the small of your back. “This is y/n, my wife. And this is our daughter, Emma.” 

The heat that travels through your body from head to toe is not due to the hot Texan morning. He didn’t hesitate to call you his wife, or Emma, his daughter. Not even a second. It seems like he has finally come to terms with it. 

“Your daughter? That girl doesn’t look like any of you. And since when do you have a wife?” Jake’s father yells, scaring poor Emma. You take her from Jake’s arms, trying to calm her down. 

“It’s okay, baby girl. Don’t worry. You’re okay.” You whisper while kissing her head and rocking her in your arms. 

“Dad, she’s Luke’s daughter. Luke and Anne died in an accident a month ago. We’re her parents now,” Jake explains, opening the car to look for Emma’s favorite toy: a soft rabbit plushie. It calms her every time. Jake plays with the toy for a bit, making the rabbit kiss Emma’s chubby cheeks, and once she’s laughing and making grabby hands to catch the toy, Jake smiles and turns towards his dad. 

“Why didn’t you invite us to the wedding?” The older Seresin questions are moving dangerously closer to your small group. You take a small step back, an action that Jake notices. He grabs your hand in his, offering you some support. He said that his dad wasn’t an easy person, but you didn’t imagine that the first meeting would go like this.

“We married at the courthouse. No one came.” 

“Why? Is she an immigrant?” He looks you up and down, clenching his jaw at the thought of his son marrying someone like that. 

“What? No!” You protest, not understanding why his first thought is that you are illegal.

Jake takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s not an illegal, dad. And stop asking those questions.” 

“I just want to know why my son married someone like...her.” 

It’s impossible not to feel offended when someone refers to you with only a few words, but with a lot of meaning embedded in them. In his eyes, you’re not worthy. You’re not good for his son. And even though you don’t want to be worthy, because you couldn’t care less about their approval, it still hurts to be looked down on. 

“I don’t think I have to give you any more explanations than the ones I gave you already. You want to know how we met? I can tell you. You want to know how she is way too good for me? I can also tell you that. You want to know how we were supposed to marry in a few months? Yeah, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you how I had to marry her early so we could adopt Emma. And the only reason I’m here is because I still have a bit of respect and love for you two and wanted to introduce you to my wife. She’s a famous writer and scriptwriter, and a wonderful, brilliant, and beautiful woman. She’s way out of my league, and if you have any other stupid commentary to say about her, I’m going to get in my car and drive away as fast as I can.” 

You can feel both males having a stare-down, waiting for the other to give in. Both of them are too proud to accept a loss. 

“If you make me leave, I swear to God, you won’t ever see me again.” Jake warns, opening the driver’s door. 

Jake’s dad moves his eyes away, losing the battle. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t want to say those things. You know how stupid I can be.” He looks at you, takes off his Stetson, and nods. “I’m sorry, girl. I just want the best for my son, and I’m sure that you’re better than I could ask for. Come inside. It’s getting too hot for that little kiddo to be out here.” 

You look at Jake, giving him the choice to leave or stay. He places his hand on your hip, bringing you closer to hear him whisper in your ear. “He won’t say anything else to you, but say it, and we leave.” 

“It's okay,” you whisper back, caressing his cheek and acting like the loving wife that you were supposed to be. “Are you sure you want to stay?” 

“Darlin’, I’ve been living with them all my life. But you haven’t. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” He grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles, his chapped lips contrasting with the soft skin of your hand. 

“Don’t leave me alone with him, and I’ll be okay.” You reassure him, smiling. 

“You’re not going anywhere without me.” 

You don’t know if he’s aware of the words he’s saying, how they sound more real than they should be, or how it makes your heart flutter for a small second. You have to remind yourself that this is all fake, that he is only being nice to you because you two need to convince his parents that this is a real marriage, and that you are not going to divorce in a year. 

This is going to be harder than you thought.

@halibshepherd

@mygyn

@the-romanian-is-bae

@justanothermagicalsara

@drakelover78

@celestialeviereads

@averyhotchner

@ravenhood2792

@potato-girl99981

@callsign-sunshine

@purplevortexx

@shrimping-for-all

@luvrrish

@footprintsinthesxnd

@nikfigueiredo

@allivingstone01

@violyn20

@lunamoonbby

@dempy

@hangmandruigandmav

@shanimallina87

@tomanybandstolove

@inesdiary96

@phoenix1388

@jynxmirage

@crthurston

@fandom-life-12

@atarmychick007

@emorychase

@twsssmlmaa

@meigalibrary

@eugene-emt-roe

@startrekfangirl2233

@topgunslut

@clancycucumber230

@books-are-escapes

@mavrellover91

@soulmates8

@xoxabs88xox

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@iammirrorball

@chaoticassidy

[shewasverynice]

Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS

Rating: Explicit 

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Non-Consensual Drug Use

Additional Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use

Categories: F/M, Multi 

Relationships: Takami Keigo | Hawks/Original Female Character(s), Original Character/Other(s) 

Major Characters: Original Characters, Takami Keigo | Hawks, Hero Public Safety Commission, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰ The Science of Greed - Part 1 ꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

After only a week into Halcyon's return to Nest, tensions had reached a boiling point between her and Hawks. As patient as he tried to be, it was like she insisted on being a pain in his ass. He and Halcyon were constantly at each other's throats on and off duty, and today was no different. Heron stood by the wall awkwardly, just outside of Hawks' office, trying to stay out of the line of fire as Halcyon riled Hawks up yet again.

"Seriously, Birdy, do you ever stop talking?" Halcyon sneered, leaning against his desk with her arms crossed. Her foot tapped impatiently on the floor and her eyes couldn't stay on him for long.

Hawks' wings flared out in exasperation, his head tipping back with his loud groan. He looked at her again and growled, "Oh, I don't know, Hal. Maybe if you actually listened, you'd hear something useful!"

Halcyon rolled her eyes and turned her head away from him, "Useful? From you? That's a joke. All you do is flap those wings and strut around like you own the place."

Hawks stepped closer to her, his wings twitching angrily, "At least I'm tryin' to keep things running smoothly in this agency! All you do is complain and pick fights with everyone! I'm just asking you to be a little nicer to people! It doesn't even have to be me too if you hate me so much, but it would be nice if you could at least pretend."

Halcyon smirked, stepping up to him this time, "Well maybe if you weren't so insufferably fucking cheerful all the time, I'd be able to pretend you weren't so goddamn fake!"

Hawks' feathers ruffled as he glared at her, a cruel smirk appearing on his face, "Fake, huh? Yeah? That's rich coming from you, Chickadee. Why don't you just be Phoenix all day. At least that fake personality is nice. Maybe you'd even get a few fans that way!"

"Oh, please," Halcyon shot back. "You think just because you have some fans now, you can act like you're better than everyone else? You think that changes things? Think it makes you better than me?"

Hawks' wings snapped shut, and he pointed a finger at her and gritted his teeth. "You know what your fuckin' problem is? You can't handle anyone being genuinely nice to you. It's like you're allergic to it!"

Halcyon's eyes narrowed. "And you know what your problem is? You're too afraid to admit that not everyone wants to be your friend."

Their argument escalated, voices rising as they hurled insults and taunts at each other. Hawks' wings flapped furiously, mirroring his frustration, while Halcyon's eyes flashed with anger and her fist slammed on his desk and knocked a cup of pens over.

Finally, Hawks threw his hands up, wings fanning out dramatically. "Fine! Be miserable and alone if that's what you want. But don't drag everyone else down with you!" He shouted.

Halcyon took a deep breath, glaring at him. "Fine! Maybe I will!" She shouted right back.

With that, she stormed off, leaving Hawks standing there, his wings slowly drooping as the adrenaline wore off. Slowly his fists relaxed at his sides and he shook his head. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he finally got himself back under control. "What a mess," he muttered to himself.

Heron meanwhile, took a step back as Halcyon stomped out the door. She whipped her head to glare at him and he only held his hands up sheepishly in surrender. Mercifully, he was excluded from her current war path and she turned away again to head down the hall.

"Oof, that was a rough one," Heron muttered as he walked into Hawks' office once the coast was clear, "You good?"

"Yeah," Hawks grumbled, plopping back into his chair and letting his arms dangle down by the arm rests, "Yeah, I'm good. What's up, Heron?"

"Ah, well I just wanted to talk to you about this weird case I've been working on," Heron said, pulling up a chair and sitting across from Hawks. He reached into his pocket, putting his phone on Hawks' desk with an app open showing his notes.

Hawks picked up the phone, his eyes skimming the words while Heron explained the situation. For weeks, Heron had been chasing shadows. Reports of strange gravitational anomalies kept surfacing, each incident more perplexing than the last. This wasn't a hero issue until recently when one of these gravitational anomalies just happened to be inside of a jewelry store and lots of their stock went "missing" in the chaos. This case was proving to be more than Heron could handle alone.

"So, these gravitational fields... What are you thinking?" Hawks asked, tilting his head in curiosity as he scrolled through Heron's notes.

Heron leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well at first, I thought it was a weird natural phenomenon. Maybe something to do with magnetic disturbances or seismic activity or even like a kid with a newly awakened quirk. But then I noticed a pattern. All these incidents are centered around scientific institutions before the jewelry store. That's clearly not a coincidence."

Hawks nodded, "Yeah, that's what I'm reading from this too. Someone’s doing this on purpose."

Heron nodded, "I recently discovered that it's an invention—a device that manipulates gravitational fields. It's sophisticated, way beyond what most people could pull off. That's why I called you. This isn't just some scientist playing around; someone is using this tech for something big."

Hawks' wings fluttered excitedly as he stood up and paced the room, "A device that can control gravity... The possibilities are terrifying. Who do you think is behind it?"

Heron remained still, his voice calm, "I have a name. Dr. Felicia Hawthorne. She's a physicist with a reputation for pushing boundaries. She disappeared from the academic scene a few years ago, right around the time these anomalies started."

Hawks stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing, "Sounds like we need to pay her a visit. But if she's as smart as you say, she won't be easy to catch."

Heron nodded, "That's why I need your help, Hawks. I don't think this is gonna be a one man job. Plus, we need someone who can handle the tech side of things so we should bring that new girl."

Hawks grinned. "Consider it done. I'll get Perplex and we'll head out."

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The door to Perplex's room was slightly ajar, and Hawks could hear the faint hum of electrical outlets and the rhythmic clacking of a keyboard. He pushed the door open gently and stepped inside. The room was a stark contrast to the bright, open spaces of the rest of the agency. It was dark, illuminated only by the glow of multiple screens and laptops scattered across several desks. Wires snaked across the floor, connecting various devices in a chaotic but somehow organized manner.

Perplex sat in the center of this technological web, her face illuminated by the cold light of her screens. Her dark purple Gothic makeup contrasted sharply with the pale light, and her long black coat draped over the back of her chair like a shadow. She wore tall boots that added to her imposing presence, and her black lipstick and two lip rings on the left side of her mouth gave her an edge that was both intriguing and slightly intimidating.

Hawks took a moment to compose himself. Though he knew Perplex was a valuable asset, her dry, uninterested manner always left him feeling a bit off-balance. He reminded himself that beneath that exterior was someone who was not only brilliant but also kind-hearted in her own way.

"Perplex," Hawks called out, keeping his tone light and friendly.

Perplex looked up from her work, her red eyes reflecting the screen's glow. "Hawks," she acknowledged, her voice as flat as ever, "What's up?"

"We've got a situation," Hawks began, stepping further into the room, "Heron and I are investigating some strange gravitational anomalies, and we believe Dr. Felicia Hawthorne is behind them. We need your expertise to hack into her systems while we keep her distracted."

Perplex's expression remained unchanged, but there was a flicker of interest in her eyes. "Gravitational anomalies? Sounds intriguing," She paused for a moment, considering, "Let me get some of my gear."

Hawks couldn't help but admire her efficiency. Despite her detached demeanor, she was always ready to dive into a challenge. "Great," he said, feeling a bit more at ease, "We'll need to keep things low-key at first, so my plan is to approach her under the guise of seeking her scientific opinion."

Perplex nodded, already packing up some of her equipment into a large black duffle bag, "Understood. I'll work my way into her systems once we're inside and copy all her data. Should be straightforward."

As they left the dark room, the hum of electronics faded behind them, replaced by the bustling energy of Nest. Hawks walked alongside Perplex, still marveling at the contrast between her dry exterior and the dynamic intellect he knew lay beneath. She looked so bored and almost condescending, but he'd been pleasantly surprised at how kind she actually was.

Heron waited just outside the Nest, the sun beginning to rise high above the city, the shadows gradually disappearing under the late-autumn afternoon sun. Hawks and Perplex emerged from the building, her black coat billowing slightly in the breeze. As she approached, Heron noticed something he hadn't seen before—beneath her coat, a set of slender, spidery legs moved with mechanical precision.

"Perplex, meet Heron," Hawks said, trying to mask his grin, "Heron, this is our tech genius."

Heron extended a hand, his eyebrow slightly raised, "Nice to meet you, Perplex. Didn't know you had... extra limbs."

Perplex shook his hand, her grip firm, "Nice to meet you too, Heron. The legs are a recent addition. They help with multitasking." Her voice, as always, was dry and almost emotionless.

Hawks, trying to lighten the mood, chuckled with a silly little smile, "So, that's why you're at Nest, right? Because like... Spiders make nests?"

Heron groaned, shaking his head, "Really, Hawks?"

Perplex's lips curled into a small smile, and she let out a short, dry laugh. "That's actually pretty funny," she said, her tone so flat it was hard to tell if she was being serious. But the slight crinkle around her eyes suggested she genuinely appreciated the joke.

"Glad someone appreciates my humor," Hawks said with a grin, his wings giving a playful flap. "Alright, team. Let's get moving. We’ve got a villain to catch."

The trio made their way to Dr. Hawthorne's secluded estate, their steps synchronized despite their differing gaits. Perplex's spidery legs moved with a silent grace, adding an eerie yet fascinating element to their formation. Heron and Hawks had offered to fly her there, but quickly realized her bag of gear was a lot heavier than they expected.

As they arrived at the grand but foreboding mansion on the outskirts of town, Heron reminded them of the plan. "Remember, we're here to ask her about the anomalies. We need to keep her talking while Perplex hacks into her systems."

"This place looks like it should have lighting in the background," Perplex said, staring up at the sky behind the mansion.

"Honestly, I could see it," Hawks agreed.

The trio approached the door and rang the bell. After a few moments, Dr. Hawthorne herself opened the door, her eyes narrowing as she recognized heroes. She looked tired, her brown eyes rimmed with red and heavy dark circles. Her sweater was oversized on her thin body and any of her visible skin was dried and very pale.

She licked her chapped lips before she spoke. "Heroes again," she said, her voice laced with suspicion. "What do you want now?"

"Dr. Hawthorne," Hawks began smoothly, "We've encountered some unusual gravitational phenomena and wanted to get your expert opinion."

"There are other scientists," she huffed, "Why do you people keep bothering me about it?"

Hawks smiled, "Well, we heard you were one of the best. Why waste time elsewhere?"

Hawthorne's eyes flicked to each of them, lingering a moment on Perplex's extra legs before stepping aside. "Very well. Come in."

The study was a small and cozy room filled with antique furniture and scientific paraphernalia, an odd blend of the old and new. It was warm inside, the fire going strong in the fireplace near the back. The walls in between book shelves were decorated with awards and photos of her accomplishments. Hawks immediately engaged Dr. Hawthorne in conversation, using his charm to keep her attention.

"These anomalies are quite baffling," Hawks said, his wings fluttering slightly, "We've never seen anything like it."

Dr. Hawthorne, intrigued despite her suspicion, began to discuss possible scientific explanations. Clearly Hawks job of distraction would be easy because quickly the woman became engrossed in explaining her various studies. Heron's sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the various advanced pieces of equipment as he strode around the room with his hands behind his back. He glanced at the pictures casually, keeping himself slowly on the move.

Perplex, meanwhile, moved to a corner, her spidery legs helping her to silently navigate the room without drawing attention. She sat down, playing the part of a bored and disinterested sidekick. One of her spindly legs twisted and slipped itself into the light socket beside her and caused a momentary hum while she rerouted the electricity through her bloodstream.

Hawks had been warned about the slight surge in power that would occur. As soon as it happened and the lights flickered, he purposely floated some of his feathers to show Dr. Hawthorne. "So, then I suppose it's worth asking if things that are controlled telekinetically are as affected by gravity as regular objects?" Hawks asked, his voice sounding genuinely curious.

"That is an interesting question," Dr. Hawthorne said, her eyes bright and curious, "Well, if I were to say..."

As their conversation continued, Perplex's eyes widened slightly as she gained access to the electronics in the home. Through the walls and around, from the outside it seemed as if nothing was happening. She quickly downloaded the data from the hard drives, her heart racing despite her composed exterior. When done, she cleared he throat softly but remained seated.

Meanwhile, Hawks was continuing his conversation with Dr. Hawthorne, keeping her distracted. His wings flicked with barely concealed impatience, but his tone remained courteous. He recognized Perplex's signal, and prepared to make a swift exit.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Hawthorne. Your insights have been... illuminating," he said, flashing a charming smile.

Dr. Hawthorne eyed him suspiciously but nodded. "Just remember, you're wasting your time trying to stop progress."

Hawks gave a noncommittal shrug and joined Heron as they exited the room. Perplex emerged from the shadows, her face as impassive as ever. They left the mansion, stepping back out into the now late afternoon air.

"Got the data," she said simply, holding up a portable drive.

"Nicely done," Heron said, nudging her arm.

The three heroes made their way back to Nest. Hawks, ever the conversationalist, turned to Perplex with genuine curiosity.

"So, Perplex, I've been meaning to ask—how exactly does your quirk work? How'd you get the computer to do that? It’s pretty impressive," Hawks said, his wings fluttering in interest.

Perplex glanced at him, her expression flat. "It's simple. I can read electrical currents as they run through my bloodstream. When I connect to a power grid, I can essentially travel through it by reading it's current. Once I'm inside a computer, the electricity moves through the motherboard."

She paused, making sure they were following. "From there, I trick the computer into thinking I'm a SATA drive. I 'ask' it to copy its hard drive onto me, and then I transfer that data to my own portable drive. It's like being the computer's hard drive for a moment."

Hawks' eyes widened with appreciation. "That's incredible. So you can basically hack into any system just by touching it?"

Perplex nodded, "In simple terms, yes. As long as there's a power source, I can likely get in."

Heron, walking silently beside them, finally spoke up, "It's a useful skill. Especially for missions like these. Good work, Perplex."

Perplex gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, her expression still unreadable.

As they continued back to their base, Hawks couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of confidence. With Perplex's unique abilities, Heron's strategic mind, and his own speed and agility, they had a solid team capable of tackling even the most challenging missions.

"Next step is analyzing that data," Heron said, breaking the silence. "We need to figure out Dr. Hawthorne's next move before she can execute it."

Hawks agreed, his wings twitching with anticipation. "Let's get to it, then. We’ve got a villain to stop."

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Hawks, with his signature red wings folded behind him, leaned against the sleek, modern conference table, his keen eyes scanning the holographic display in front of him. The display showcased a rotating 3D model of a device known as the Graviton Distorter, a dangerous invention created by Dr. Felicia Hawthorne.

Heron stood beside him, and eventually Hawks broke the silence. "So, Heron, what do you have on Dr. Hawthorne so far?" he asked.

Heron responded, "Perplex managed to get into her hard drive copy. It apparently had a hell of a password or something. We've got some data suggesting she’s been testing the Graviton Distorter, but nothing concrete linking her to any crimes. Yet. The issue is that the one incident we have—the gravitational anomaly in the jewelry store—can't be conclusively tied back to her without more evidence."

Hawks nodded, his expression growing serious, "We need to catch her red-handed before she can cause any real damage. If she perfects that device, the consequences could be catastrophic."

Just then, the door slid open, and Perplex entered the room. Her spidery legs clicked onto her floor as she approached, her expression looking deceptively disinterested as always. She carried a sleek tablet, which she handed to Hawks.

"Got something for you," she said in her dry tone, "Intercepted some encrypted messages. Looks like Dr. Hawthorne is planning something big. Maybe a demonstration of her device."

Hawks scanned the tablet's contents, his eyes narrowing, "This is good, but it's not enough to arrest her. We need irrefutable proof of her intentions and a direct link to the Graviton Distorter."

Heron stepped forward, "We could set a trap. If she's planning a demonstration, she'll need a location. We can plant surveillance and catch her in the act."

Hawks considered this, his mind racing. "We'll need to act fast. Perplex, continue monitoring her communications and see if you can narrow down the timing and place. Heron and I will do some surveillance in the areas outside of town. If we check the areas the original anomalies occurred we might find a location where they're setting up for this demonstration."

As they finalized their plan, Hawks extended one wing, the feathers glinting in the light, "Let's clip her wings before she can take flight."

Heron nodded, his determination mirroring his own, "We'll get her, Hawks. She won't know what hit her."

The next few days were a whirlwind of surveillance and investigation. Hawks and Heron tirelessly scouted out previous sites where gravitational anomalies had been detected. Each location, thoroughly checked and rechecked, yielded nothing—no clues, no suspicious activity, no sign of Dr. Felicia Hawthorne or her associates. The frustration was palpable.

"Nothing here either," Heron reported, his voice crackling over the comm. He stood atop a high-rise overlooking the city, his eyes scanning the skyline. "It’s like she’s vanished."

Hawks, flying low over another site, sighed, "Same here. It doesn't make sense. If she's planning a demonstration, there should be at least some activity. But it’s dead quiet."

Back at the Nest, Perplex was just as stumped. She sat at her workstation, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the keys. "I’m getting nothing. Her communications keep mentioning a demonstration, but there’s no date or time. It’s like she’s deliberately keeping it vague."

Later that evening, the three gathered in the conference room, the tension thick in the air. Perplex showed them the latest intercepts on the holographic display, but they offered no new insights. Just as Hawks was about to voice his frustrations, the door slid open and Halcyon lazily strolled in.

"What's up?" she greeted nonchalantly, slurping on a bowl of spicy ramen out of a black foam cup. The aroma hit the other three instantly, a potent mix of chili and spices that made their eyes water.

"Jeez, Hal," Hawks coughed, waving a hand in front of his face, "Could you have picked something less eye-watering?"

Halcyon ignored him, her eyes on the holographic display, "Still stuck on Hawthorne, huh?"

Heron nodded, wiping his eyes on his coat, "Yeah, we've got nothing. Every lead is a dead end, and Perplex can’t pinpoint a date or time for this so-called demonstration."

Halcyon paused mid-slurp, then set her bowl down on the table. She walked up and looked at the emails, her eyes scanning the words before she rolled her eyes. With her hand on her hip, she pointed at the screen, "You guys are overthinking it. She’s not planning anything yet. She’s just gauging interest."

The room fell silent. Hawks raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

Halcyon shrugged, picking up her bowl again, "She’s throwing out feelers, seeing who bites. Once she knows she has an audience or buyers, then she’ll plan the actual demonstration. Until then, she's playing it safe and using really non-committal but hyped up words."

Perplex blinked, her expression shifting from disinterest to realization, "Of course. That’s why we can’t find anything concrete. She hasn’t committed to a date or location because she’s still in the negotiation phase."

Heron sighed in relief, "That makes sense. It explains why we’re not seeing any activity at the old sites."

Hawks grinned, his spirits lifting, "Good catch, Hal! Alright, new plan. We focus on her communications. If she’s looking for buyers, there’ll be a trail. We just need to follow the money."

Perplex nodded, already typing away, "I’ll dig deeper into her network, look for any financial transactions or new contacts. If we can identify potential buyers, we can anticipate her next move."

Heron added, "And I’ll keep an eye on any new potential sites that fit her needs. If she’s setting up a real demo, we’ll catch her in the act."

Hawks clapped his hands together, the fire back in his eyes, "Alright, team. Let's get to work. We’ll nail her before she even gets the chance to start."

Perplex and Heron got up, heading out of the room. Halcyon however took a seat on the edge of the table, continuing to eat her ramen. She didn't even look at Hawks as he closed the screens and stacked up their notes. He was in the same boat, not really sure if he should say anything to her. Eventually though, the silence became way too much for him to ignore.

"What's going on with you, huh?" He asked, moving to stand in her line of sight, "Can we talk about this? I really don't like leaving things unsaid and we haven't talked since our last fight."

"What do we even have to talk about?" She said, dryly. Her eyes met his and his wings fluttered on his back. She tilted her head as he stared at her, but said nothing else.

"Okay," he leaned on one leg, planting his hand on the table beside her, "I'll ask you this: Why do you keep picking fights with everyone?"

"I don't pick fights," she said after a particularly big slurp. Her mouth was still full as she shrugged and added, "Everyone just starts shit with me and I finish it."

Hawks narrowed his eyes, "A lot of the time when people say it's everyone else's fault, it's really theirs. Everyone isn't out to get you, you just react badly to any kind of perceived insult."

"Shut up," Halcyon grunted, pointing her chopsticks at him, "You don't know that."

Hawks pointed back at her, "That's exactly it right there. You're immediately being defensive."

"You got all up in my face and glared at me," Halcyon huffed, looking away from him with her nose up turned, "You don't get to act like I'm at fault here. People are nasty to me, it's that simple."

Hawks took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure, "That's not true. Most of us just want to help."

"Help? Yeah, right. You all think I'm some kind of ticking time bomb," Halcyon shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Maybe if you dropped the attitude, people would see you for who you really are," Hawks retorted, his patience wearing thin. "You're good at what you do, Hal, but you're pushing everyone away for no reason."

Halcyon narrowed her eyes. "And maybe if you weren't so damn perfect all the time, you'd understand why I'm angry. You have no idea what it’s like."

Hawks sighed and ran a hand through his hair, softening his tone. "Look, I'm not perfect. Far from it. But I'm trying here. Why don't we just talk it out? Maybe have a drink or something and figure out what's really bothering you?" He suggested.

Halcyon raised an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto her face. She set down her ramen again and sarcastically fluttered her eyelashes, "Oh, I see. Is that your way of flirting with me, Birdy?"

Hawks feathers fluffed up and his face flushed. He stammered, "Wh-what? No, that's not what I meant."

Halcyon chuckled, leaning in and flicking at his long hair by his ear. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that," She said softly with a coy sparkle in her eyes.

Before she could pull away, Hawks caught her wrist and swiftly pinned it behind her back, bringing her close. The sudden movement left them inches apart, eyes locked in a tension-filled moment. His eyes flicked down to her lips unintentionally and his breath caught for a moment. She didn't move, her gaze holding his. He could feel her heartbeat thundering through her wrist and realized his own was matching that tempo.

"Listen to me, Sera," Hawks said quietly, his voice steady and sincere, "No one hates you. Most people just want to get to know you, me included. But you need to give us a chance."

Halcyon stared back at him, her defiance faltering for a moment as she saw the earnestness in his eyes. She felt a strange mix of emotions—anger, vulnerability, and something else she couldn’t quite place. It felt like a good time to run away, but the look in his golden eyes froze her in place.

"Why do you even care?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Because I can see how lonely and hurt you are," Hawks replied, his grip gentle but firm on her wrist, "And I think, deep down, you want to be part of this team. You just need to let people in."

Halcyon looked away, biting her lip, "It's not that easy."

"I know," Hawks said softly, "But it's a start. So, what do you say? Truce? At least for a little while?"

She took a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze again, "Fine. Truce. But don’t expect me to be all warm and fuzzy."

Hawks smiled, releasing her wrist. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

Taking a step back he watched as she brushed a strand of her brown hair behind her ear and slid off the table. Picking up her ramen, she scraped at the bottom of the foam cup with her chopsticks and pressed the chunky remains of the goopy powder into her mouth. Hawks watched her curiously, but when her eyes flicked over to him again and she smirked his heart fluttered all over again.

"Did you know your eyes do that weird bird thing?" She asked playfully.

He blinked, then his brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?" He asked.

"Your eyes," she repeated, "Your pupils go all like BWOOSH when you get flustered or mad or something." She made a motion with her fingers like something expanding and the sound effect again.

Hawks eyes widened, "What?! Do they? Seriously?!"

Halcyon nodded with a snicker, "They do. Can't you feel it? It's really drastic!"

"No fuckin' way..." He mumbled, his face flushing red as he pulled out his phone and flipped the camera. He pulled down his eyelid, looking at his eye on the screen.

"How have you never noticed?" She asked with a laugh.

"I dunno," he answered while still looking at his eye through the camera, "It's not like something I could really see happening when it does right? Plus it's not like I've watched myself all that much in videos. Or well at least not my eyes."

Halcyon bit her lip as a sneaky little idea hit her. He was still distracted when she took a little step behind him. With one finger, she reached out and traced up the underside of a feather with a long swipe from quill to tip.

Hawks shuddered at the surprising touch, but gasped as he saw his pupil indeed expand significantly in the camera. He turned to her, his mouth hanging open and face flushed.

"Holy shit you're right!" He shouted, his wings flaring out.

"Told ya," she snickered, "It's wild!"

"Damn," he muttered, his feathers still fluffed up from her touch, "I thought my wings were the only thing that gave me away."

"Nah," Halcyon said as she purposely brushed past him and headed towards the door, "You're pretty obvious to me."

Hawks ran his hand down his face while he slipped his phone back into his pocket. With an exasperated sigh he followed after her, "... Coulda gone my whole life without needin' to know that."

⤶ Prev Main Next ↪

[leprosycock]

in your Ludwig deep dive post you said you hate Blaire, why? I don't feel like looking her up, and I like how you write

a lot of reasons. i guess "hate" is a strong word, but she is a self-pitying narcissist who constantly complains on her main that she has no friends and nobody listens to her and she's too anxious to fly and everything sucks and the whole world sucks and everyone should feel sorry for her because she is one of the most tortured people alive as an incredibly rich z-list celebrity. one of her best (and only) friends, maya h1ga, was caught harboring a predator and advising a survivor of sa to sit down and shut up and qt only dropped her for a few weeks because she was making her look bad and the second that people seemed to forget that maya had done anything wrong, qt took her back and immediately resumed their weekly podcast (which makes fucking 50k a MONTH on patreon, mind you. PER MONTH). she has a history of being incredibly unstable, cruel, and vitriolic towards other creators, particularly other women, who usurp her in a match or a speedrun or just happen to show her up in any way. she dismisses all criticism against her as sexist.

she has said many times that she actively hates being a content creator, but it makes her tons of money, so she won't stop doing it, even though she also constantly complains about it. she was a full-time baker before she started streaming and because she refuses to go get a real job again, she makes it everyone else's problem, which is endlessly frustrating. (the stuff that she makes on stream is also generally awful but that's just kind of funny.) she needs to make several thousand dollars a week so she can buy a week's worth of taylor swift tickets (which she went to while having covid). she flaunts her wealth to excess and that just kind of bothers me.

another thing she does that frustrates me to no end is that she will consistently insert herself in the middle of drama that has legitimately nothing to do with her in any capacity and she will side with the bigger person who she knows will get praised and defended and heard by their audience, so she has absolutely nothing to lose by picking a side even when she thrusts herself into unnecessary conflict with total abandon. it's confusing and infuriating and i don't know why she does this other than to farm engagement.

another thing she does to farm engagement is use big names to pull in audiences for her channel. she insists on hosting events on her platform and her platform ALONE, refusing to let other people stream events that include them on THEIR channels, because she thinks this will steal her ad revenue. she also refuses to let other ccs show the streamer awards on their channels because SHE needs that money and ALL OF IT SHOULD GO TO HER. as someone who already basks in crazy amounts of money from her podcast, she really doesn't need to fucking do this and she does it anyway because she is self-obsessed.

that's generally why i dislike her. she rubs me the wrong way and i don't like the attitude that people can only dislike her because wahman and streamer gf. there are very legitimate grievances with her and dismissing them out of hand doesn't do anyone any favors

[bluelolblue]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @tobytheeggo

I wish you all the best for your birthday! I really enjoy talking to you and being silly with you :3. I'm sooo glad I got to meet another Santino (and Riccardo) enjoyer, like that's really rare, and you're just so silly and fun and amazing! We're far away from each other, but it's like we share the same brain cells most of the time HEHEHE! I hope all your wishes and dreams will come true and continue being amazing and slaying every day! 💙🩵💙🩵

I appreciate you a lot and I made this fic for you as my little gift for you! :3

It's Santino x Chidi because YES! I hope you'll like it <3 🩵💙

Early Mornings

Everything seemed so peaceful and warm, not a sound other than soft breathing. And it seemed too good to be truth. Living life in constant rush and danger of getting killed is exhausting. A good sleep feels almost unreal.

Until... waking up to a high pitch beeping noise.

Santino groaned in frustration, burying his face into the pillow and pulling the heavy silk sheets over his head, waiting for the sound to be shut off.

Chidi reached for his phone to turn off the alarm. It was 5 am. Just like every morning. Being a bodyguard means getting up at 5 am every morning because that's your job. Protect rich, powerful people. Although, in this situation, Chidi is not Santino's bodyguard. He is Vincent's bodyguard. Santino's ex.

"What time is it?" Santino muttered tiredly, now lying on his stomach as he hugged the pillow, still not opening his eyes.

"5 am." Chidi replied, his voice a bit husky in the morning. Santino sighed into the pillow, finding all this too difficult to handle at 5 fucking am.

"Are you insane?" Santino asked, finally opening his eyes enough to glare at Chidi, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing him.

Ah. His back. It almost looked like the red scratch marks were painted, but they were indeed real and were left by this moody Italian. "Maybe I am. Not as insane as you, though." Chidi said, looking over at his shoulder with a small smirk.

Santino made another annoyed noise and turned over, pulling the sheets with him. "You know, my back still kinda burns." Chidi complained jokingly. Well, half jokingly. The scratches still burned a little. "You deserved it." Santino muttered.

"Did I?" Chidi asked, leaning over the bed to press a kiss on his lover's neck.

"Either go to the bathroom or stay here..." Santino said tiredly, but he let Chidi kiss his neck. "Oh, so you want me to stay after all, huh?" Chidi teased, admiring a love bite he had left on the Camorra prince. "You're just good in bed." Santino said, switching with some effort onto his back to cup Chidi's face and to press a lazy kiss on his lips.

He's still so tired. And sore from their night together.

"You were loud." Chidi said after the kiss, looking into Santino's beautiful, tired green eyes. He looked even more handsome like this, with messy hair, sleepy eyes and still exhausted. Santino hummed and smiled halfway, one hand tracing down the scratch mark. "And you were so stubborn." Santino said, slightly digging his nails into the marks to tease him.

"You liked it. Loved it even." Chidi pulled back with a soft chuckle. He was not gonna let Santino have his way now. At least not at 5 am. Santino hummed again and turned into a small groan as he tried to stretch. He's gonna feel this for a week, if not longer. Week if he's lucky.

"I won't be able to walk." Santino breathed out, sagging on the bed, looking up at the ceiling as Chidi made his way to Santino's luxurious bathroom. "You wanted it that way. Begged me for it as far as I can remember." Chidi smirked at him, leaning against the door.

"Shut up." Santino murmured and rubbed his face with his both hands.

Santino hates that he got woken up at 5 am, and he wanted to take a nap while he waited for Chidi, but now he couldn't.

In the bathroom, Chidi took a nice warm shower that helped him feel relaxed and relieved. And it felt so good on his scratch marks on his back. Santino can really get wild when he wants to. Or when someone drives him insane to that point.

The room was still somewhat dark which just made him sleepy again but just as he closed his eyes again to nap, Chidi returned.

"I have to go now before it gets too suspicious." Chidi said as he put on his shirt. "Not gonna stay just a little longer?" Santino teased, now lying on his side with a smirk and watching Chidi. "You know I can't do that." Chidi told him, knowing what Santino wanted.

"Mm... fine. It's too early for anything. You're just crazy like your fucking boss." Santino couldn't hold himself when he mentioned his boss. Vincent.

"Bodyguard's life, what can I say." Chidi was just doing his job really. Although, his job wasn't Santino last night but he's gonna keep that a secret. Because it is a secret.

How to make life more difficult for your toxic ex?

Sleep with his bodyguard.

Santino watched as Chidi put on his clothes, his tie, how he looked more serious again. Fuck. He looked so hot in that suit. Good thing Santino didn't tore it off him yesterday.

Just as Chidi got fully dressed and was ready to leave, Santino got up and tugged on his tie, face to face with the assassin. "Tell your boss to keep his distance... otherwise, I'll have to steal you again." Santino's voice made Chidi almost shiver. This soft, gentle, and attractive voice he used was enough to make him kiss him again.

Humming in agreement while kissing the Crime lord, his soft lips felt better than anything right now. "I will." Chidi said after the kiss, admiring him in this position.

No one really gets to see Santino this way. Relaxed, calm, submissive but still having control. It's rare but beautiful sight.

"Now go back to him like a loyal dog you are." Santino patted his shoulder, turning away with a smirk and getting into his bed. "It's almost 6 am, I want to sleep while I can." Ah, of course, Santino has to be a bit bitter in the morning.

"I'll see you again soon. Mr. D'Antonio." Chidi gave him a smile and nod before opening the door to leave.

Santino felt like he won. Sleeping with a bodyguard of his ex to spite Vincent. But still, Chidi is hot and so fucking good in bed. He barely stood up to hold his tie and kiss him, his legs and hips hurt. He's going to feel this for a long time.

Santino D'Antonio gets what he wants no matter what. Even things like this.

[georgespaniel]

this is me speaking frankly about my thoughts on all of this because i've been really struggling over the past 2 days because of the matty shit and it hurts. i will admit i feel conflicted over this which i hate and if you feel similar or want to tell me to shut the fuck up feel free but i think talking about it and getting out my system will help. this is rambly, incoherent, kinda personal and quite long so feel free to ignore but i just want it out there.

i think i am very parasocial with matty and that makes me want to excuse him far more than i should, and i'm willing to admit that is a flaw. i want to be in denial and tell myself that this is all just a big bit and he's not really like that but how the fuck am i supposed to know that? i keep telling myself that he is better than this and he doesn't actually believe any of this but realistically i know nothing about this man other than what he shows us, and what he showed on that podcast was really shitty. i can't keep excusing his shitty behaviour, before i just thought of him as a loveable asshole but he's turning more and more into just a straight up asshole.

i feel like people on both sides of this debate are being way too loud because it's a lot more nuanced than either 'he has committed every -ism under the sun and is a terrible bigot' or 'he's done nothing wrong lol you're just a fake fan that's his humour' and i hate that no one can just have a conversation about this. i've seen and spoken to a few people on anon about it and it's been much nicer so i appreciate this tumblr community for being so nice even though this blog has only existed for like a week lmao.

i have loved matty since 2015 and my love was really reignited back in November and it's made these past few months so good for me, i saw them live and made 15 year old me's dream come true and i think i was kinda waiting for it to all go to shit so i feel like i shouldn't be surprised but i still am.

it hurts that a man who has been so vocal about supporting women and condemning bigotry and toxic masculinity can't stop himself from participating in such unnecessary low blow humour for some cool points. like i don't really give a shit if it's satire and all a big bit, the words are still harmful and they still fucking hurt.

like it's so frustrating because in my head i want to believe he is better than this!!! he has been so vocal in the past and that goddamn brit award speech he made just doesn't seem like the same person who was in that interview. but once again how am i supposed to know that. maybe he's an absolute prick behind closed doors.

i don't feel like what was done was egregious but he was clearly happily complicit in it and thats what makes me so uncomfortable. it's such shitty punch down humour that is completely unnecessary, like yeah its a joke or whatever but its such a shit joke that is only funny because its something they know will never happen to them. even if the hosts are minorities themselves it doesn't give them the right to make such shitty racist remarks and especially for privileged white boy matty to be joining in with them.

i think its poe's law that goes something like 'if your attempt at satire is indistinguishable from the person you are mocking you are no better than them'. like even if he isn't a bigot he sure is fucking sounding like one and it pisses me off. and i have seen people who definitely are bigots laughing at this shit and feeling validated by it. if people who genuinely believe that shit are laughing and agreeing with you then you need to take a step back and reevaluate what you are saying.

he has no ability to understand when to shut his mouth and understand that his opinion isn't fucking needed. oh great yet another rich privileged white man's opinions, exactly what the world fucking needs.

i feel like he could maybe redeem himself is he showed even an ounce of self reflection and realisation that he has genuinely hurt people, if he actually apologised or fucking did anything to acknowledge the shitty stuff he has done, but he never does!!!! he never does because he can get away with it because people keep letting him get away with it.

and yet despite all that a small part of me still wants to love him and its been tearing me apart. i considered myself to have very strong morals and this goes against so many of them. i'm not sure if it's the parasocial attachment or the comfort he has brought me over the years but i really don't want to lose that, but that sacrifices my own morals to do that (am i being too sensitive, am i too morally black and white, is what i am feeling valid, am i a bad person for thinking this???)

i hate the fact that every time i try to listen to their music or i see the videos that used to make me feel so happy i just feel sick. i want to feel comforted and happy like i used to but now i just think about him and feel upset, i don't want him to be that person i so desperately don't but i don't know anymore and i don't know what to do.

i hate the fact that i can't form my own opinions and i am so influenced by what other people say, i am so desperate for someone to valdiate me but two people have told me it's okay and i still feel sick. i want someone to tell me how to feel about this but when they do i can't accept it. i love him and i hate him so much and those feelings can't get on with each other. it just really really fucking sucks.

[heretherebedork]

Can you explain a boss and a babe plot for me in "Francis" way? Hahahahaha i never really understood that story. One of my friends say that it became too boring afrer 1 or 2 eps

Okay, so, I can do this a couple ways.

First description: A shallow show tries for depth it cannot achieve and, in the process, constantly contradicts itself and makes character flat because they cannot actually hold up any character flaws to the main characters.

Second, more snarky and thorough description: A show in which the original set up of a cold, strict boss is ruined in the first fifteen seconds and never brought back because the supposed cold and strict boss is never either of those and literally accepts the 'any coffee you want to get me' in the space of the first episode. The show then proceeds to set up interesting conflicts based on possible character flaws (one about being too controlling and strict and one about not being sure how to love) and then ruins them by making them about the main characters being Too Perfect (too rich, too awesome, too nice, too accepting) instead of having actual flaws and refuses to back down. Cute relationship with no depth occurs between perfect characters and the conflicts only get worse because it's impossible to have an interesting conflict when one side has to be perfect.

So, that's the best I can do. I dunno about boring, I find it so frustrating that I'm rarely bored. I'm more sitting there yelling at the screen because there was such a chance for depth and interesting characters and for real conflict that would deepen things about them and the show just threw it away to make it about how they're Too Rich and Too Nice instead of, you know, strict and controlling and struggling with how to love people.

What is the actual story? There's this Perfect Rich Guy that everyone thinks is cold but really isn't at all and I have no idea why because the show never shows him that way and there's a Manic Pixie Dream Guy who comes to intern at his company and talks about him being strict and yelling when he never yells in the actual show and then they fall in love and then the show continues even though it has nothing else to say by adding a tragedy that could have been interesting but mostly feels tacked on and then taking both characters of conflict (one set up at being about the strict and controlling boss and one being set up about the other character not showing love the way that makes other people feel appreciate or cared for) and turning them into Bad People (hates him for being rich, uses the money he supposedly gets for school for gambling and is brazen about it despite saying he didn't want to take his money) so the leads were even more perfect and now there's a totally pointless workplace conflict that makes no sense because he's about to leave the company in two weeks so holy fuck who cares?!?!

.... There. Enjoy. Three versions of the story as told by me.