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alessiamalfoyzabini · 3 months

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𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 2,438

Warnings | +18, kiss and touches noncon, Jungkook is always obsessed and gets a bit angry

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Ready for you the fourth chapter of Happy Ending! ❤

If you have any questions, please write to me! 🥰

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @douknowbts

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

When Y/N opened her eyes that day, she felt strangely physically satisfied, stretched her arms with a smile on her face, thinking that she must have finally had a good night's sleep.

Too bad the environment around her was quite different from what she had become accustomed to for two and a half years now.

The sunlit walls that gently filtered through the window were cream-colored, not gray and gloomy like those in her apartment, plus the mattress she was lying on was too soft to be the uncomfortable second-hand one she had bought to fit in her monthly expenses.

Even the blankets were different, and soon an alarm bell went off in her head.

She stood up abruptly, seized with terror.

"Where the fuck am I?" she muttered to herself, cradling her head in her hands in a vain attempt to think clearly.

Could it be that they had kidnapped her? But who, then-and for what purpose?

Her parents were not rich and wealthy people, she was a normal, average girl, she knew her neighborhood was dangerous, but to go this far?

Maybe... maybe they wanted to sell her.

She had heard of girls disappearing in the middle of the night and never to be found again.

She blanched, seized by a sick feeling, and although she wanted to refuse to believe her own consideration, the well-appointed and elegant room suggested only that one option-why else kidnap her if not to make her work in some illegal brothel frequented by bigwigs?

She shrugged those soft and foreign blankets away from herself and stood up with trembling legs, noticing that she no longer had only her camisole and panties on, a long nightgown that reached her calf covered her body, but she still felt naked given the absence of panties concealing her intimacy. In a flurry of shame she realized that whoever had been abducting her had also seen a lot of her as she blissfully slept.

The girl took a deep breath, walking to the door, which, to her surprise, she found open.

Had they forgotten to lock it? ... Or, was it a trap to test her?

She opened it wide slowly, her heart caged in a powerful grip of anxiety, the first thing she saw was a long dark hallway with artistic paintings hanging on the walls, to Y/N that style seemed similar to something she had seen before, but she could not give herself an answer.

She went into the corridor hugging herself with her own body, she did not know what she would find during her exploration, perhaps a group of kidnappers with sullen faces and brutal manners?

She noticed a bright glimmer at the end of the corridor and reached it at a slow pace, her bare feet stepped on soft carpeting that kept her from feeling cold, and even that made her say that the house must belong to someone wealthy. She could only dream of such an abode, so the idea that she had been abducted for her body grew stronger as the seconds ticked by in her mind.

When she opened the door from which the light reflected in the hallway came, a choked breath caught in her throat at the sight.

The boy with his back turned, busy among the stove, seemed all too familiar, she prayed it was not him, her beloved professor, but the sight of the tattoos on his arm, visible thanks to the short sleeves of his dark shirt, spoke volumes.

It was him, her captor was Jeon Jungkook, the same boy who had promised to protect her only the day before.

"Professor?" she asked anxiously, the young man at the stove froze.

There were a few seconds of stalemate that weighed in the air like boulders, then the boy turned around, revealing the handsome, jovial face of her teacher.

It was really him.

The bewildered girl took a step back, a gesture that did not escape Jungkook's notice.

The latter narrowed his gaze, "Y/N, you've woken up!" he exclaimed coming toward her.

Y/N shook her head, made to put further distance between them, but Jungkook grabbed her by the arm and this reminded the girl of Yoozu's attack the previous day, she found herself shaking and this alerted Jungkook.

"Sweetheart, are you sick?" he gently placed a palm on the girl's forehead, fortunately she was not burning hot, but something in her pallidness told him that something was wrong, "No...you're not hot, maybe.... It's because you're here, isn't it?" he smiled gently in her direction, Y/N would have liked to answer, but her voice wouldn't come out of her throat.

"I know it might feel strange at first, but I'm sure you'll soon get used to it, after all, I did it for your sake, baby."

Baby.

Trying to ignore the all too affectionate nickname, Y/N opened her mouth, forcing herself to answer, "You said you would protect me, that I just had to trust you," she croaked, shocked.

Jungkook frowned, "That's right, here I will protect you from all those people who have always treated you badly or never believed in you! I believe in you, and I love you, honey!" he brought his perfect face closer to the girl's, trying to steal a kiss from her, but Y/N managed to break free from his grip, not that it had been a feat, Jungkook had softened his grip for fear of hurting her, he had already seen the bruises Yoozu had given her without regard, to say Jungkook was pissed off was little, at the next opportunity he would eviscerate that useless blowhard.

Y/N, for her part, recorded his words confusedly, had he really said "I love you" to her?

She denied with her head, it couldn't be true, the professor she had so admired and had a crush on...was a psychopath.

"You can't be serious, tell me this is just a joke," begged the boy, who frowned.

"I'm not joking, Y/N, I'm sure that past this moment of confusion you'll realize that you love me too, and you'll accept me," he concluded confidently, "Now, which breakfast do you prefer? Sweet or savory?" he continued cheerfully, approaching the stove, Y/N saw toast already crispy and ready to be topped with chocolate or scrambled eggs, she took the opportunity to run out of the kitchen.

Jungkook sprinted toward her, missing her by a whisker, "Y/N!" he exclaimed shocked, not understanding the young woman's hostile attitude. He only wanted to protect her, give her the gift of a fairy tale happy ending, why didn't she understand?

Y/N returned to the previous hallway, ignoring the bedroom she had come out of, and spotting that and the kitchen, the front door must have been further down on the opposite side.

Too bad that was not a normal house, it was in fact structured differently and what she found as she pushed open yet another door was just a storage room.

She imprecated mentally, trying to turn back, but her race to safety ended with Jungkook managing to tackle her from a corner.

Y/N shrieked, terrified.

"Let go of me! Let go of me! I don't know what you want from me!" she burst into tears, she wanted to go home, her parents had done so much for her, she could not waste the opportunity they had given her to study and make a name for herself in this way, especially after they had shown themselves to be so displeased. She just wanted to make them proud.

How mocking the world was, just yesterday she had shouted those exact words, and had been saved by the very person who was now showing herself as the real danger.

Jungkook clutched her to his body, causing her to turn abruptly as the back of the small figure in his arms went crashing against the wall.

The boy inhaled in irritation and to shut her up he attached his lips to those of the woman, who widened her eyes trying to push him away.

The boy pressed even more against her, biting angrily on her lower lip, Y/N had to open her mouth wide because of the tremendous twinge she received and the man's tongue invaded her completely, demanding absolute dominance.

Y/N felt violated as the boy expertly entwined their tongues, unaware that the night before Jungkook had dared to do much more with that same tongue.

Jungkook moaned in that violent kiss, enjoying in the taste in which he was willingly drowning himself.

He reached down with one hand between their bodies, lifting one of the young woman's legs and bringing it around his hips, pushing his already hard cock against her pussy covered only by her nightgown, Jungkook could only feel the softness of that area so delicate and delicious, Y/N's eyes widened, between the lack of air and that vulgar gesture that shocked her, she began to moan shakily without any more resistance, in a pitiful surrender that made Jungkook pull away from her lips with a loud pop.

The breathing of both of them was labored and Jungkook's wild eyes met Y/N's tear-filled ones and begged him to stop.

Jungkook did not want to get that far so quickly, but the girl's actions had not pleased him, not at all.

"If you'll be good, I promise I'll stop," he hissed, "We'll go to the kitchen, where you'll eat your breakfast and we'll talk about how it's going to be between us from now on, understand?"

The girl nodded, obediently, and followed him into the kitchen, and when Jungkook let go of her wrist she sat clutching her legs, unable to banish the heavy sensation of a cock against her folds.

She had never had a boyfriend, consequently had never received such attention; it had been shocking and strange.

Why did someone like him want to be with someone like her?

Jungkook put some toast in front of her with a variety of toppings next to it, there was jam and butter, chocolate and even eggs with bacon and cheese, he filled a glass with juice for her.

The boy wanted her to eat and feel good, he really wanted the best for Y/N and was very sorry to see her so uncooperative.

He took a seat in front of her and began to eat, giving her a look that intimated her to do the same, the girl tremblingly took the butter, beginning to spread it on her toast, she did not want to anger him again, she had yet to find the entrance and realized that in order to get the go-ahead, she had to first keep the landlord happy.

"Y/N" she lifted her eyes to his, a twinge of guilt hit the boy in the stomach in front of those red, shiny eyes, "I only wish you to be happy" he began, but Y/N interrupted him.

"But you kidnapped me" she said in a huff, Jungkook for a moment did not know what to say.

"No, I didn't kidnap you, we belong together since we first met," he said confidently, "Do you remember that? You were completely wet with rain, I saw you and you bound me to you with one look, my job is to protect you and make you feel loved."

Y/N remembered that day, which took place seven months earlier, but she did not think she had left such an indelible mark on her teacher, in short, he had never shown any interest and she had never given herself false hope.

"Why didn't you say anything before, because-"

"Jungkook." the boy blocked her, "Call me Jungkook, I'm not your professor outside of school," he pointed out, disturbed by the continuous distance Y/N seemed to want to put in the dialogue.

The girl sucked it up and agreed with him.

"Why didn't you ever come forward, Jungkook?"

In a normal way, she would have liked to add, but did not want to dare too much.

The young man took a moment to absorb as best he could the girl's voice as she spoke his name with what seemed to him to be familiarity; he found the sound of those syllables coming from his woman's lips enchanting.

Y/N did not understand, why had he suddenly approached her and in such a crazy way then?

"Because I'm your professor and it wasn't ethically correct, plus you had never given me a reason to step forward...until yesterday, I couldn't allow them to go on with their torture," he said harshly, "You'll be safe with me forever."

The girl took a deep breath before she began to speak.

"You can't keep me here forever, I have a family and studies to complete, take me back to my home, Jungkook," she begged him again, the boy shook his head.

"You are home, and don't worry about your studies, I will help you and you will get your degree one hundred percent, the principal is a good friend of mine...as for your family, they were the first to hurt you."

The girl's blood drained from her face, she began to finally understand where Jungkook was going with this. He wanted to isolate her from the world, because the world had been evil to her.

Jungkook in those months had been researching the young girl's parents, neighbors told him about how they were always rude and irritated with Y/N, went around saying that the girl was squandering all their savings on that absurd belief that she wanted to continue her studies, not understanding the sacrifices they had made to raise her.

Those statements were enough for the boy to realize that they did not deserve a daughter like her, too good and sweet for such people.

"It's not the same thing!" blurted out Y/N then, ready for another fit of hysterical crying, "I want my freedom!"

"Freedom? For you to live like that is to be free? Living with the constant fear of being attacked at school or in that neighborhood you call home, without a shred of a friend?" he asked, strangled.

Those words struck Y/N, because they were so fucking true they hurt.

But still, those were not good reasons to kidnap a person, and he had done exactly that.

She shut up for a few moments not knowing how to retort, Jungkook looked at her with disappointment.

Y/N felt a pang in her heart, because in spite of everything, that was still the guy who until the night before had given her butterflies in her stomach, seeing such a look in him too made her want to vomit.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #bts yandere smut #yandere bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere jeongguk #jeongguk x reader

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sombredancer · 1 month

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Asian dramas and relationship dynamics

There are my favorite relationship dynamics as a list. Opposites attract + power couple

Drama: I Am Nobody / 异人之下 Characters: Zhuge Qing & Wang Ye Screentime: Minor I like it when characters are different in a way they could complement one another, but at the same time they are similar in terms of what is important for people to stay stuck together. Zhuge Qing is public, easy-going and wants to be friends with Wang Ye. Wang Ye is mysterious, reflexive and doesn't want to be bothered by other people. But no one can beat extrovert if he decided to be friends with you =) Plus, they are united by their superpowers: they are both powerful sorcerers and their sorcery is very similar in its nature. So they can compete and learn from each other and, if necessary, kick enemy's ass together. ̶A̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ ̶d̶y̶n̶a̶m̶i̶c̶s̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶g̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶c̶k̶ ̶B̶L̶ ̶v̶i̶b̶e̶s.̶ By the end of season 1 they are OK and together.

Drama: Mysterious Lotus Casebook / 莲花楼 Characters: Di Feisheng & Li Lianhua Screentime: Secondary Di Feisheng is a leader of a demonic sect, a former slave and a very straightforward man. Li Lianhua is a former leader of a righteous sect and an extremely sly man with not-so-bad background. But both of them are the best martial artists in Jianghu and went through a lot together. One wants everyone to leave him alone, another wants to be with him together forever, and both of them don't give a damn about everything that happens in the world but they care for each other. B̶L̶-̶v̶i̶b̶e̶s̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶t̶t̶a̶c̶h̶e̶d̶.̶ The ending of the drama is obscure but I'd like to think they both are alive and happy together.

Drama: The Blood of Youth / 少年歌行 Characters: Xiao Se & Ye Anshi Screentime: Secondary A leader of a demonic sect who has an ultimate martial knowledge and the best righteous martial artist in the past, who is suffering from decease and can't fight anymore. What can unite them? The answer is: the similar mindset. They both had a great power and lost it, they both are shouldering great responsibilities that don't make them happy. Despite the fact that they should be on the opposite sides in Jianghu world, they are still good friends. M̶a̶y̶b̶e̶ ̶B̶L̶-̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s̶,̶ ̶a̶l̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ ̶X̶i̶a̶o̶ ̶S̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶.̶ There is a small extra ep at the end of drama, when they meet each other again in a very romantic way. Just search for it.

Drama: The Legends / 招摇 Characters: Lu Shiqi & Qin Qianxian Screentime: Minor She is from a demonic sect. He is from a righteous one. She is immune to the impact of spiritual power. He is the one of the most powerful people in terms of spiritual power. She is dumb, straightforward and pure-hearted. He is blissed yet sensible and burdened with difficult moral choices. They could be an ideal Yin-Yang couple. But they have BE, because it's "The Legends", everyone should die in here Т_Т.

Pride and Prejudice + power couple

Drama: The Yin-Yang Master: Dream of Eternity / 晴雅集 Characters: Bo Ya & Qing Ming Screentime: Main This dynanics is similar with the previous one, but here we are focused on how they ended up together. Bo Ya has prejudice against demons-yao and believes all of them should be executed. He meets half-demon-sorcerer Qing Ming who helps him to overcome his prejudice. Finally, they become friends (or̶ ̶m̶a̶y̶b̶e̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶o̶n̶l̶y̶ ̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s̶) and together they win over the evil forces. At the end they are separated but there is a hope they meet again.

Drama: Wuliang / 无量 Characters: Po Xiao & Feng Ren Screentime: Main People of different social status both seek to get a magical sutra. During a road trip they exchange opinions on the sutra and how to use it and change each other's mind. In the end it turns out that they together saved the world and can be finally together. As friends, of course.

Drama: Oh No! Here Comes Trouble / 不良執念清除師 Characters: Pu Yiyong & Cao Guangyan Screentime: Main Pu Yiyong looks like lowlife, studies very bad and hates Cao Guangyan, who is self-confident, smart and thinks low of Pu Yiyong. But a mysterious case with ghosts forces them to interact and they find out, that together they are a perfect team. Honestly speaking, this little series couldn't develop this topic as good as I hoped, but it's a really interesting story, so you can watch it for the ghost detective plot and get this type of relationship in addition. It's a Taiwanese drama, so BL-jokes and dalliance with a viewer were huge, but it didn`t help much. Still a nice dynamics and a good drama. Us vs the World

Drama: The Untamed / 陈情令 Characters: Wei Wuxian & Lan Wangji Screentime: Main I don`t like the novel, but I like drama exactly because here I can see this dynamics. In the past life of Wei Wuxiang Lan Wangji was not strong enough to go against the whole world to protect his friend (well, in the novel they are lovers, but it kills the main idea of this dynamics by turning it into "I do it all just to get into your bed", which is meh), and his friend died. Suddenly, 16 years later, he gets a chance to choose once more: to be a part of society and watch once more his friend dying or to be with him against everyone this time. The moment he chooses to be with Wei Wuxian against the whole world I felt cathartic pleasure. The drama ends up on a little bit obscure but positive note.

Drama: Word of Honor / 山河令 Characters: Zhou Zishu & Wen Kexing Screentime: Main A former king's assassin who is at the brink of death and just wants to live the time left in silence and a birdy master of the most skillful criminals find each other, find out that they are brothers-in-teachings and decide to fight against the world together just to live in silence and enjoy each other's company. When one thinks it's his last second of life, the other comes to help him even if they both can't beat the greater number of enemies and will die for sure. Catharsis! The drama has a small extra ep where they are together and all right.

Drama: The Legends / 招摇 Characters: Li Chenlan & Lu Zhaoyao Screentime: Main Them, again! The first half of the drama they have enemies-to-lovers dynamics, but then, when they find out the truth about Zhao Yao's death and about feelings for each other, they turn into Bonny and Clyde and go annihilate the righteous guys who are in fact not-so-righteous. And it makes me feel cathartic, too. A very catharsis-causing dynamics, indeed! It's little obscure, but they will be fine at the end of the drama.

Drama: Dong Lan Xue / 东栏雪 Characters: Shen Yan & Chu Ningyuan Screentime: Main Two bad guys work together to get power in the palace. And get involved in romantic relationship during their power gaining. Nice story with an open ending.

Drama: Derailment /脱轨 Characters: Qi Lian & Jiang Xiaoyuan Screentime: Main It's a little story inside a big one about transmigrators that you can read in another of my posts. It lasts something like 1,5 eps of the drama but is a nice story itself. A lonely bellicose boy from a rich family runs away from home where no one cares for him and lives on the street. A lonely girl from an extremely poor family and being bullied by classmates tries to survive in this world. They meet each other and understand that it's easier to fight their fate together. Nice story, it's a pity that this one is too short and not a main plot of the drama.

The next post will be about Asian dramas and familial dynamics.

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buckyysdoll · 4 months

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— crazed; post-outbreak! j.m x curvy! fem!reader — 18+ MDNI

MAIN MASTERLIST

જ⁀➴ joel knows he shouldn’t feel the way he does for you, but fuck if it doesn’t feel good; cw: allusion to dark! mean! joel 😫 -> he’s sort of a perv but we love him <3, size kink w/ hands but reader is explicitly curvy/plus size !!, implied daddy kink, age gap (legal!! joel is 56, reader’s in her 20s 🫣), explicit sexual detail !! -> p in v sex, oral (m!rec); might turn this into an actual story/series??

❧ Imagine …

Joel Miller not being able to take his eyes off you when you’re out ranging beyond the QZ. He feels wrong for it, knows that he shouldn’t — goddamn it he’s old enough to be your fucking dad. But when you’re standing like that, so oblivious to him watching you? That’s getting harder to remember.

Cos fuck, the way your shirt stretches tight across the strain of your chest almost buckles his knees; the swell of your hips leaves nothing at all to his already over-active imagination.

Every step you take, with your plush, curvy ass sculpted by the close fit of your trousers sends his mind reeling, thoughts of just bending you over right here and right now — fuck, he needs to goddamn focus.

You, with your soft, supple body is the worst possible kind of distraction, he knows; it’s a unique form of torture to watch you speak to those men like it’s not him alone that can do it.

Him alone that should be able to just take you to the floor of this goddamn forest, with them all watching. He’d make it plain enough that though yes, they can look, no one else can ever have the right to touch.

Maybe it’s just been too long; God knows it’s been a while since he’s had a good fuck. Even crouching there now, firewood in his rough broad hands that should be on you instead, he can feel his own hardness tight against the seam of his jeans where the zipper rests, so firm and aching.

Goddamn it hurts enough to set his teeth to gritting against these sick thoughts of you. But he can’t help it.

And even worse, the voice in his head that wants to is getting more quiet by the minute; overruled just by the sight of you like that, bending and rising again with your own armload of freshly cut wood.

Your hair, resting just by your shoulders in length — how soft it would feel in his hands. How good, how right it would be to have it fisted so tight, your back arched, ass up to him.

The hands from which you so absentmindedly pick splinters while you work are so small by his own; and goddamn it, the thought of them wrapped round his cock, your pretty mouth put to good use just for once — made him crazed.

Joel was fucking losing his mind.

The thoughts came from somewhere primal in him; a part he used to fight hard to shut down. Now though, it was only that darkness that had him surviving each goddamn day, and it spoke in whispers insidious taunts like Mine. She’s all fucking mine.

Cos Lord, what he would’ve given to have you laid out there beneath him. Wrists held and bound by his strength. To be inside you, thoughts of nothing but the rush of your heat, your pussy clenching around him. Your slick.

To finally feel you, so so soft, groaning into your skin with each scratch down his back.

He knew precisely how good it would feel to finally mark you as his, to take all that you’d give him. To show you how it felt to be needed and hated at once, by the same ruined man.

But it wasn’t just that you’re half his age, it’s that you’re — plainly — you. The girl, the woman that grates on his mind just because he wants you so fucking badly. Since you met, you’d done nothing but run your mouth off and make it hard for Joel to just do his job; him, with his fucked moral compass and you with your goddamn sweet, untainted heart.

Was it so wrong, though, to want to show you just how sweet a little darkness could taste? To want to corrupt you, just a little, just enough, and show his good girl how it felt to be bad?

The blood in his veins felt all too hot, like the rush he got from killing — or sex. His jaw was clenched hard enough to crack his own teeth but he was in control; had to be, around you.

He had to just focus on the job, one foot and then the other, and again. And again. The methodological comfort of routine and practiced steps.

And fight every instinct in his body begging him just to take you, consequences be damned.

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pupkashi · 6 months

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Ooh ooh I saw someone's doing a Halloween event and that got me super excited so I thought, why not request a drabble for your (and mine, and everyone else's xD) fav boy gojo? The prompt "what do you mean you've never gone trick-or-treating?!" SCREAMS him😭😭

a/n: yes omg !! i was hoping someone would pick this for him hehe i hope you enjoy !!!

warnings: allusions to gojo wanting kids / starting a family , that’s it :3

“did you ever take megumi or tsumiki trick-or-treating?” you ask, setting the full sized candy bars neatly on a tray, handing it off to satoru with a smile. he had insisted on handing out full sized bars, claiming fun sized candy was an insult considering how much was in his account.

“uh yeah i think once or twice, megumi hated it but tsumiki loved it enough for him to dress up and go,” he smiled, fondly recalling the princess costume and fairy costume she wore, megumi with a black cat costume and a pirate costume. “plus i wanted to live vicariously through them and see what it was like to to trick-or-treat.”

the words were so nonchalantly said you almost missed them completely, stopping any movement and staring at him wide eyed.

“what?” you ask, your lover staring back at you with a small smile, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’ve never been,” he mumbles, walking with the tray in his arms, placing it on the table near the front door.

“what do you mean you’ve never been trick-or-treating?!” the disbelief in your voice coupled with your gon smacked face has a grin creeping into his face, dimples making a guest appearance.

“i just never did, the elders were always so uptight, no matter how many times i threatened them with blue,” he snickered, watching as you rolled your eyes at him.

“you were a terrible little brat,” you giggle, he can’t help but shrug his shoulders, playful smile on his face as he replies.

“ours won’t be half as bad though, they’ll have you,” the implications have your heart fluttering and stomach doing summersaults.

“yeah, whatever,” you scoff, clearing your throat and standing up a bit straighter, “i bet you would’ve loved going door to door, you’d probably take all the candy from people who left bowls out.”

satoru can’t help but pout at your accusations, “i would not! I had morals you know, i wasn’t that bad,” he stares at you for a second in silence before his shoulder slump a bit, “okay yeah i probably would’ve taken the bowl too if it was nice.”

the cool autumn breeze hits the two of you as you step onto the front porch, smiling as widely the first group of kids bound into your porch.

“trick or treat!” they shout in unison, an array of costumes and eager smiles staring back at the two of you.

“oh wow, you guys have amazing costumes!” you smile, satoru handing out the candy to the kids, placing them into their jack-o-lantern buckets.

“what are you supposed to be buddy?” he grins, staring at the much shorter little girl near the back.

“I’m a fairy!” she giggles, turning around and pointing at the wings on her back.

“oh my gosh, sweetheart she’s a real fairy!” he coos, slipping an extra chocolate bar into her basket before any of the other kids could notice.

“thank you!” they say, an excited whisper coming over the small group as they stare at the full sized candy in awe.

satoru watches all of them slip their tiny hands into their mom or dad’s hands, glowing grins on each of their faces as they walk alongside their parents.

“it’s rude to stare y’know” you smile, nudging him slightly. he can’t help the burning tips of his ears and pink dust on his cheeks as he sits back, leaning into you a bit.

“just admiring the costumes is all,” you don’t push him any further, letting a small smile creep on your lips when he lights up at the sight of another group of kids heading your way.

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gabessquishytum · 3 months

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this one was loosely inspired by that "hob cheats on orpheus w morpheus" post/fic thats been doing rounds rn

university!morpheus is dating robyn, hes a little timid about having sex with him (haha loser virgin everybody point and laugh), but robyn assures him its fine, he's willing to wait and be patient, morpheus gets to set the pace and he'll follow his lead. and things go well for a while, morpheus even meets robyns family! his boyfriends' dad being morpheus' university professor was a bit of a surprise, but considering that dr gadling has never been anything but kind and helpful to him, it's a welcome one.

but, one night, after their semi-regular family dinners, morpheus excuses himself to leave the room and get some fresh air. hob follows him outside and asks if everything's been alright-- he's noticed that morpheus has been in a strange mood lately and wanted to check up on him to make sure everything was alright between him and his son, or maybe he was struggling with his schoolwork and needed some help. but it turns out, it hasnt been alright; morpheus confesses that he's discovered (desire found out about it and immediately rubbed it in dream's face that he's unloveable) that robyn's been cheating on him. he isn't angry, more than anything he's disappointed and betrayed. he's especially annoyed because he can't quite seem to find the right time to talk about it with his boyfriend-- morpheus "shitty communicator" d'endeles, par for the course. any anger is rooted in him feeling disrespected and lied to. hob, trying to seem relatable, mentions that he was cheated on when he was around morpheus' age, and he got revenge by filling his partner's gas tank with sugar. morpheus doesn't want to cause property damage, but revenge sounds enticing.

he comes up with a plan to cheat back; plus, that way, he can lose his virginity and rub it in robyn's face that his "patience" didn't even pay off. so, at first, when dr gadling comes onto him one night, he's worried his plans have been foiled-- but when he's come so many times he's lost count and is nothing more than a puddle on his boyfriends' fathers' mattress, he realizes that maybe this is the exact revenge he needed. especially if he does sleep with robyn later on just to compare father and son, and maybe taunt him a bit for how much better his dad is.....

Hhhhnhnggg daddy Hob 😳😳

Look, if Robyn is cheating, then he definitely doesn't have the moral highground. But fucking his dad may have been a liiiittle skeezy of Morpheus. Not that I blame him......

Hob is just so much better than Robyn. He's got all of his son's good qualities and then more. He's solid, attractive, he smells good, he looks good... and his dick is thicker than anything Morpheus has ever seen. He knows what to do to make a man scream. Robyn isn't bad in bed, but his dad is just a genius. His mouth is unholy. He makes Morpheus beg for him, croons in his ear so sweetly - "go on, there's a good lad... say 'please, daddy'". And Morpheus does everything that Hob tells him. He bends himself in half, curls his legs over Hob’s shoulders and submits to being utterly taken apart. This is the kind of sex he wants. How can he possibly go back to placid, half hearted sex with men his own age? He's ruined.

And if he stopped to think, he'd wonder exactly how Hob could sleep with his own son's boyfriend without seeming to feel particularly guilty. Truth is, Hob is far from being perfect or morally better than Robyn. In fact, he's old enough to know better.

But he wants pale, pretty Morpheus. Wanted him since the day they met. And fucking him is so wonderful, so transcendent, he can't possibly feel bad about it. He loves his baby boy, his Morpheus, his darling. He loves knowing that he's ruining this beautiful young man and spoiling him completely, so that he'll never be satisfied with anything else.

Robyn will get over it. He's his father's son, after all... and it was Hob who encouraged him to cheat in the first place.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw age gap #cw cheating #cw daddy kink

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bunnies4steven · 4 months

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pleaseeee do cecil dennis (dom) or jonathan levy (dom) x reader (f! sub) non-con, unprotected sex, as dark as you're comfy with, darling. (idc if it's ooc)...

Dark!Jonathan Levy x AFAB!reader

╰┈➤ WARNINGS : NSFW, SMUT, BREEDING KINK, NON CONSENSUAL BREEDING, AGE GAP, PROFESSOR! JONATHAN LEVY, ORAL MALE RECEIVING, DD/LG DYNAMICS, IMPACT PLAY, P IN V SEX, PET NAMES (SWEET GIRL, BABY, HONEY, SLUT, COCKWHORE), UNPROTECTED SEX, NON-CON, DADDY KINK, PRAISING AND DEGRADING KINK, ROUGH SEX, CO-ERCION, DARK THEMES, MDNI.

˗ˏˋ✎ part two, part three, part four

𓆩⚝𓆪 caution: this fic is very dark and contains themes of non-con and blackmail. if these things trigger you I advise you to not read this and click off.

It was always you. It was always you who sat in front of the class during the lecture. You listened so diligently to Jonathan as he taught his class, while the other students were either catching up on late work or on their phones.

You answered every question he asked the class, you read every page of the books he would assign, you would turn in every assignment on time. Your essays were always thought provoking and they were never half assed like his other students.

You were such a good student for him, such a good girl for him. Jonathan adored seeing you in every class especially since you never missed any classes. He would constantly tell himself that the reason why he looked forward to every class to see you was because of your effort and how engaged you were, not because you made his heart skip a beat.

He was lying to himself.

But Jonathan felt too guilty to ever admit that. He had a wife, a daughter, and some sort of morality to not fall for his student. But you made it so hard for him, especially when you would come into class wearing shorts and a tank top.

He understood that it was summer and the heat was vicious, but the way your ass looked so good in those jeans and your tits were perfectly pushed up by your push up bra made his cock stir in his pants. He still was never willing to admit to himself that he lusted after you. At least until his wife left him.

Jonathan’s marriage with his wife Mira hasn’t been great for a while but they agreed to work on it. They agreed to take therapy sessions, learn how to communicate better, and find that spark which made marriages work. It didn’t work for Mira though.

While Mira was traveling with Poli, Jonathan was all alone raising his daughter and getting ready to teach his new class for this semester. Jonathan was alone, all alone. He needed something to escape the pain, he needed you. He needed a pretty little thing like you to fill the hole in his heart. And what do you know? You signed up for his class this semester. Jonathan’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the class list and your name was on there. You being his student wasn’t enough though. He typed your full name on google just to find any piece of you there. He found your instagram and he clicked. He saw photos of you there and he sighed either in relief or possessiveness. Don’t get him wrong he thought the bikini pictures you had made him go crazy but he felt like that was only for him. It didn’t matter if you weren’t his. There was a certain picture of you with a nice skimpy bikini. His pants felt tight as he took in your delicate curves. His hand that was caressing his beard soon reached to his pants. He unbuckled his pants and his pants dropped to the floor. He took his boxers off and his cock sprung up. Jonathan knew this was wrong. He knew it was wrong to stroke his cock to his students picture but he couldn’t help himself, plus wasn’t it your fault for posting this picture for the whole world to see? He spat in his hand and he palmed his cock. He groaned “Fuck-” as he started stroking his cock. He imagined to himself that it was you stroking his cock, or better yet, you riding his cock. He closed his eyes fantasizing the thought of your tits bouncing as you rode his member. “That’s it honey.” Jonathan rasped. His eyes opened just to look at the picture again while he fist fucked his member. He wondered what you liked. He wondered if you were into older men like him rather than those shitty boys on campus. He wondered if you ever had your pussy played with? You must have judging by those pictures on your profile. His groans and moans surrounded his empty room as he fisted his cock. He was getting close, a pool in his stomach was forming. “Shit, shit, shit, m’ gonna cum baby.” He then shot ropes of cum all over himself.

#jonathan levy #jonathan levy x reader #dark! Jonathan levy #jonathan levy smut #nini.fics #oscar isaac

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itlovesinthewoods · 7 months

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Ranking the MCs by who pulled the most bitches

(I will only be doing those with 5/+ LIs otherwise this thing would've gotten way too long. Feel free to correct me if I missed someone, which I probably have considering I haven't read all these books and took some stuff from wiki. I will also be taking ILW as canon for this list)

5) TH:M/WtD

Pulled five bitches with the power of having a fine booty and good personality, you either want them or want to be them

4) PM/AtV/RCD/TF/ILW

Have 5 people ready to drop down on one knee but that didn't stop them from keeping a few side hoes. Had Nathan been an actual LI, TF!MC would've been higher.

3) TCATF

Queen Kenna Rys of Stormholt, I am so sorry for not putting you on the top of this list. Unfortunately, she was more busy cutting bitches than pulling them. Yet, without even trying, she still managed to get 6 (6!!!) super fine LIs who will and have proven that they'd die and kill for her. Plus half the fandom simps for her (as they should!). She's third on the list but first in our hearts<33

2) AME/BOLAS

Not only do they have 6 (6!!!) super sexy people at their beck and call but also have the power of seduction in spades which they are not afraid to use. They've proven that they can pull any bitch they desire. Good thing they're morally good (or not as evil as they could've been AME!MC's case) otherwise they could've caused wars over their sex appeal

1) ILITW

Even without taking ILW as canon, ILITW!MC would still be on this list. But taking it as canon? God does this MC pull bitches. They have 7 LIs, having pulled almost every single person in their friend group, excluding their lesbian bestie. They're all so in love with them (as they should be!! They're the MC of all-time) that even if they became an eldritch horror-esqe shadow monster, their LIs would still fuck them (as they should!!)

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trickstarbrave · 3 months

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this is not proofread. and i am half awake

but i have FINALLY finished the fucking. nerevoryn omegaverse au fic. no one else has written it yet, so i will be the one to bear the burden. i will commit the first sin and take all the stones you throw.

sorry that this is mostly not even smut, just me messing around with worldbuilding. i have worldbuilder's disease. i have even MORE thoughts about this setting i have inevitably left out. but. well. they fuck in the end okay

special shout out my mutual who posted an omegaverse tweet bc i was really blanking on the smut for some reason. i couldnt get it working right???? like it wasn't interesting. but we got there with the help of the tweet.

content warnings: standard omegaverse shit. heats, ruts, biting, impregnation kink, knots, you get it. omegas have vaginas as far as im concerned bc it just makes more sense to me. give it a shot as i have played with stereotypes and tried to make it interesting i hope

There were, despite the stereotypes, perks when it came to being an omega. In fact, in a way, stereotypes could be one of the perks, if you played your cards right. And if there was anything Nerevar knew how to do, it was use anything and everything to his advantage.

There was a common belief omegas were all delicate, gentle hearted peace-keepers--or worse, treasures that lay in wait for some big strong alpha to come take them. It wasn’t like there were no docile, delicate omegas, but Nerevar was certainly not the type. He could make peace all right--with persuasion and his blade however, not rolling over with his belly up begging everyone to stop fighting.

Most people thought he was an alpha given how headstrong he was and how quickly he took charge of situations. That, or he was an alpha-leaning beta given he was usually able to keep his cool in difficult situations, especially around alphas acting territorial and puffing out their chests. Nerevar never bothered correcting them either way; sure, he could turn himself into some moral champion of omegas and prove they could be just as capable politicians and warriors, but the more likely outcome was everyone he told would take him significantly less seriously. And that would mean more heads would have to roll and well, Nerevar didn’t like cleaning up messes.

He still had heats, having to retreat into his room for days at a time, but no one said anything. Just as easily he could be locked away in a rut, or praying to Azura for several days on end. No one dared question him, and only the most trustworthy attendants were allowed anywhere near his room to be able to smell the difference.

On the plus side, Nerevar had many things he used to his advantage; in all honesty, the fact people thought Nerevar was a beta wasn’t unfounded. Even when an alpha went into a rut, he was mostly unbothered by it. A bit of discomfort, not to mention he needed a long bath afterwards to get the smell off him, but unlike some omegas where the scent of an alpha in rut had them going into heat right away, Nerevar seemed mostly unaffected and could force the instinct down. And, through careful control of his mental state, he could usually calm most alphas down without them being the wiser about Nerevar’s secondary sex and wanting to take him for themselves. His seeming immunity from an alpha in rut was often the subject of multiple jokes by Almalexia, as the two of them would mostly sit around, having a few drinks in the quiet of her room. Well, that was until she took Vivec as her mate, then most of her ruts were spent with the warrior-poet instead.

Hence why, when his meeting with Voryn had been canceled last minute after he already made his way to Kogoruhn, he simply strolled to Voryn’s room, humming casually with a couple books and food for the other.

Much like Nerevar, Voryn was also an… Interesting example of an alpha. Voryn was usually pegged more so as a beta based on his behavior, until you got a whiff of pheromones when you pissed him off. He wasn’t as outwardly aggressive and territorial as far as most people were concerned, but Nerevar knew him well. He disguised it as dedication and love for his house, or loyalty to those close to him, but he was indeed territorial. And instead of outward aggression, picking fights and throwing fists, he preferred to temper his aggression and instead attack them when they least expected it. He may look like he forgives and forgets, but in truth he was a viper laying in wait to strike.

Nerevar knocked, careful not to drop the few books tucked under his arm, hearing the low growl that followed.

“Out.” Voryn hissed, and Nerevar bit back a laugh.

“It’s me,” Nerevar clarified. “I brought you some books and some food. Servants said you haven’t eaten since yesterday.” Voryn, unlike his typically cool demeanor, was vicious and snippy in a rut. Since Nerevar grew up alongside him, he knew it very well, getting chased away from Voryn’s door every time. Well, that and the servants and other members of House Dagoth would shoo him away, warning him not to go near. It was customary to keep young alphas and omegas apart during heats and ruts respectively, for good reason. No one wanted any injured teenagers or anyone carrying children way too young. But Nerevar could still see it in the aftermath—scratch marks and bruises on Gilvoth after he came to force his younger brother to eat, broken furniture, a smashed window at one point—luckily he calmed down from physical violence as he got older. If he hadn’t, he doubted Kogoruhn would still be standing with all the magic the lord knew.

“All the more reason to tell you to leave.” Voryn huffed.

“You know ruts don’t bother me.” Nerevar snarked. “Hurry up and open the door before I drop your food.”

After some groaning and growling, eventually Voryn did open the door, to which Nerevar quickly darted inside before he could take the tray and shove him out.

“You are an idiot.” Voryn groaned as Nerevar set the tray of food on the desk, before tossing the books onto Voryn’s bed. “But that’s nothing new anymore.”

“I told you, ruts don’t bother me.” Nerevar chuckled, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in the air as always. At the very least, Voryn’s scent wasn’t offensive; some alphas made him feel disgusting, if not a little nauseous. Voryn’s was much more familiar and a lot more welcomed, given he was used to it in much smaller quantities over the years. In fact, it was kind of nice; warm, a bit spicy, and nostalgic.

“I can’t help but fear you’re just playing with fire when you say things like that.” Voryn sighed, before plopping himself on the bed. He was dressed very loosely, no doubt feeling hot and antsy. Nerevar, unbothered, also sat beside him with a grin on his face.

“Come on, I’m not being that reckless.”

“You’re tempting fate, that’s what you’re doing.” Voryn huffed. “But you’ve always been like that, haven’t you? Always pushing your luck to its limits until it blows up in your face.”

“It hasn’t blown up in my face yet,” Nerevar asserted proudly. “Unlike several of Sil’s little inventions.” Voryn rolled his eyes at that.

“Because you’re constantly poking and prodding at them even when he specifically told you not to, that’s why.” Nerevar, seeing as Voryn was making a good point, instead side-stepped it entirely.

“Come on, you know you get lonely during a rut,” Nerevar instead circled the conversation back around. “Bored, stir crazy, antsy…”

“That’s the nature of a rut so I don’t rip someone to pieces.” Voryn huffed. “I’m not supposed to be relaxing and having fun but defending my territory and looking for a mate as far as my instincts are concerned.”

“Mm…” Nerevar hummed. “I heard mate does make them easier. At least, as far as Ayem told me.” Nerevar hadn’t minded his wife taking a mate that wasn’t him; in terms of sexual compatibility, Nerevar didn’t find her very appealing. Not that she was ugly or anything--far from it! She was very beautiful, tall, strong… All things an omega should be dying to have in a mate. But there was something about her scent that put him off from ever wanting to mate. Just as well, she didn’t find his scent all that appealing either, and most political marriages didn’t end in mating even in the case of alpha and omega couples.

“And I am in no mood to tear apart Vvardenfell looking for one.” Voryn scoffed, before laying down on his side. Despite doing so, however, he didn’t look comfortable in the slightest. All of his muscles were tense as he laid there, stiff as a corpse. “I have things to be doing, research to do, meetings to be had--”

“Shh…” Nerevar hushed him, scooting closer to rub his back. At the touch Voryn snarled, before slowly he began relaxing, bit by bit. “There…” Nerevar smiled fondly. “You’ll have time for all of that when this is over. It’s only a couple of days right?” Nerevar asked, before working at a knot on Voryn’s shoulder. “Roll over and I’ll rub your back. You’re way too tense.”

Despite all his huffing and snarling, Voryn did roll over, face planted in a pillow, allowing Nerevar climb on top of him to massage him. For most alphas having an omega crawling on top of them in the middle of a rut like this was no doubt humiliating, but Voryn had in fact relaxed gradually. The scent in the air turned from one of hostility and warning to more of a gentle warmth as Nerevar continued to work knot after knot out of his back.

“What research are you working on now?” Nerevar asked, hoping some light conversation would help relax him further.

“Mm…” Voryn groaned softly, fingers clenching and unclenching the blankets under him. “Dwemeri explosive powder…”

“Making it?” Nerevar asked, raising a brow.

“No,” Voryn clarified. “Dwemer machinery is required to actually… Make it.” He hummed softly as Nerevar rubbed at his lower back, working the especially tense muscles nice and slow. “Machinery far too large and complicated to fit into Kogoruhn.”

“What about it then?”

“Dwarven oil has a number of alchemical properties…” Voryn continued. “I was hoping to test if their explosive powder had any as well.”

“Without blowing up half of your stronghold, I hope?” At that, Voryn snorted, before rolling over and forcing Nerevar off him now that he was much more relaxed. With a grin, Voryn tugged Nerevar down to be laying beside him.

“Unlike you, I don’t have a track record for blowing things up unintentionally.”

“You’re back on that again?” Nerevar groaned, offended but still laughing.

“I’m not the one who brought it up the first time.” Voryn smirked. “Though tell me, how many times has Dumac saved you from nearly stepping on a landmine again?”

“You’re being an asshole right now, you know that?” Nerevar shot him a playful glare.

“Well you’re an asshole all the time and it’s never stopped you.”

And just like that, the two were at it. Was wrestling an alpha in rut a good idea? Not in the slightest. However, the two used to playfully wrestle all the time as children and even teenagers, so it was… Oddly nice to do so again as adults. Typically Nerevar would win due to raw strength alone--and he could right now, of course--but he knew it was probably a terrible idea to piss an alpha off like that in the middle of a rut. So instead, Nerevar just put up a gentle fight, knocking several of the pillows and blankets off the plush bed, along with the books Nerevar brought earlier, all the while laughing. Then, once he felt Voryn was starting to get a bit too aggressive and his movements too hurried, he let the other pin him to the bed.

“Gods…” Nerevar laughed, breathlessly. “How long has it been since we wrestled like this?”

“Decades.” Voryn replied, equally as breathless. “Mm… But oddly nice to get the energy out.”

“I told you.” Nerevar grinned. “Nice to move around, get your mind off things… Sitting there stewing in it only makes it worse.”

“Don’t tell me you go around wrestling people in heat.” Nerevar nearly choked in laughter at that.

“No!” He had to roll over onto his side, holding his stomach from giggling. “Gods, fuck no! Azura’s mercy, I’m not that insane!” Another few chuckles followed as he tried to compose himself. “I can barely stand anyone touching me once it settles in. Everything feels so… Sharp and uncomfortable.”

“Does it?” Voryn raised an eyebrow, but climbed off Nerevar to flop down beside him. “That sounds… Unusual.”

Nerevar shrugged. “It’s always been like that.” He admitted as though it were nothing. “You wouldn’t it get it being an alpha, I guess.”

“Nerevar, I may not be an omega but that doesn’t mean I’m uneducated.” Voryn was oddly stern now, concerned. “Just like how you aren’t an alpha but understand how a rut works.”

“Look, what do you want me to say?” Nerevar asked. “No healer has ever told me anything is wrong with me. It just seemed the more time that went on, the more… Painful they got?” Nerevar groaned. “Well, not really painful, I’ve found a way around it for the most part--”

“So you’re coping with it like a poorly healed injury.”

“No!” Nerevar asserted. “It’s not an injury but a normal thing.”

“A normal process that isn’t acting as normal.”

“Look,” Nerevar rolled his eyes, “You can bother the healers back at the palace about it if you’re so concerned. But I’ve adjusted just fine to my heats. I lay in bed, have all my food ready, stacks of books and what have you, and I deal with it.” Nerevar gave him a playful kick. “Unlike someone who went a whole day without eating.”

Voryn rolled his eyes, getting up from the bed. “Fine fine, I’ll eat lord Nerevar.” Voryn replied, sarcastically. He then went over to his desk, finally eating the meal Nerevar brought him.

While he ate, they still chatted and talked, Nerevar laying casually on his bed. It hadn’t been the first time he’d done it, and Nerevar expected it wouldn’t be the last with their close friendship. Even as councilman and king, Nerevar saw them as close friends above all else. The closest friend he had, honestly.

Yet, as he laid there he found himself feeling… Uncomfortable. The air wasn’t stifling after Voryn calmed down, but Nerevar’s clothes felt… Itchy. Not to mention he was starting to feel feverish. Maybe that wrestling wasn’t a good idea if he was coming down with something, but he didn’t want to leave yet--he was mid conversation, after all, and it seemed like Voryn was still relaxing more and more. But, it wasn’t long until Nerevar was tossing and turning on the bed, trying to feel comfortable. Despite being fully dressed he got that same paranoid feeling he had being out in the open on the battlefield: antsy and exposed.

“Are you alright?” Voryn had finished by now, coming to the bed to look at him.

“Yeah just--” Nerevar sighed. “Uncomfortable.” Then, realizing how that might be interpreted, tried to cover for it. “Not that your bed is uncomfortable, I just feel… Off, all of a sudden.”

“How so?”

“My clothes feel itchy--” Nerevar was already scratching at his arms, writhing slightly to try and itch at his back. “It’s not flees, I just bathed… Not to mention it’s not like, bug bite itchy but like my clothes are way too rough…”

“Stress?” Voryn asked, looking at his arms to ensure he didn’t have a rash. “I could always look at your clothes to be sure.”

“Not a bad idea.” Nerevar began pulling his shirt up over his head to hand to Voryn who combed it over. Sure enough, the clean cloth had no parasites or bugs crawling around in it, but already Nerevar felt relieved. He kicked off his trousers while he was at it, left only in his undergarments and much more comfortable.

“Well the fabric is particularly rough.” Voryn remarked. “Thick material, more so used for keeping warm and dry rather than relaxing. Rolling around wrestling in it probably irritated your skin.” Nerevar snorted at that, especially as Voryn tossed one of his own silk robes on top of him. He used to have no problem wrestling in the ash and dust, but now slightly rough fabric was what was going to do him in? Although… The silk robe was a lot more comfortable, the soft fabric almost soothing his skin as he curled up with it on and tied shut, breathing deeply. Voryn’s sheets were also nice and soft…

“You are also feeling warm though…” Voryn brought the back of his hand to Nerevar’s forehead. “Not to mention I actually beat you at wrestling…” He looked concerned, “You weren’t mucking around the bitter coast again were you? Swamp fever has been on the rise there, and I know how much you love mudcrab hunting more than your own good--” Nerevar rolled his eyes.

“I came straight here from the propylon chamber, Voryn.” He did wear weather appropriate clothes given it was the cold and rainy season in northern VVardenfell, but that was just a precaution. “I wasn’t running around the bitter coast catching mudcrabs, I can assure you.”

“Here,” Voryn stood up now, pulling the pillows and blankets back on the bed to make Nerevar more comfortable. “Why don’t you just lay down for a few minutes and see if it goes down. If not, I have a cure disease potion around here somewhere…” He then got up after piling them all back on, rummaging through his shelves stocked with an astounding amount of alchemical books, ingredient chests, and potion bottles. ‘Controlled chaos’ as Voryn would say, though Nerevar could never make sense of it. But right now he was more than content to just lay there in the pile of pillows and blankets, breathing in nice and deep as his body started to go from uncomfortably hot to warm and fuzzy.

“I found it,” Voryn kneeled beside him, beckoning Nerevar to sit up properly. He groaned in annoyance; he just got fucking comfortable, now Voryn wanted him to sit up? But one look at Voryn’s eyes told Nerevar it was just for his own good, so reluctantly and without much fuss he sat up slightly, letting Voryn tilt his head and press the potion bottle to his lips. It briefly occurred to him he could drink it himself but… Well, Voryn was just being a loyal retainer and friend right? Ever loyal, doting Voryn.. Nerevar found that trait of his kind of endearing.

“Normally when I have to give you medicine you make such a fuss,” Voryn smiled softly, “You’re being a good boy right now, I see.” At the ‘good boy’ comment Nerevar’s breath hitched slightly as he sunk back onto the bed to lay on his side, Voryn piling more of the blankets and pillows around him so he was comfortable. Then, a hand threaded into his hair, rubbing at his scalp just like Nerevar liked, making him positively melt, mewling and moaning softly in pure delight.

“That’s it…” Voryn purred, “Such a good boy, aren’t you…?” Voryn then laid down behind him, nuzzling against him, his hands brushing across Nerevar’s chest and stomach in soft strokes…

Ah, Voryn was scenting him, something that wasn’t unwelcomed in the slightest. It was nice; being wrapped up in that warm, musky scent was only making him feel better. People would be able to smell Voryn on him after all, all over his body from his clothes to his hair and skin… Then again, he felt like he never wanted to leave the comfort of Voryn’s bed right now. He was content to just lay there being tended to, Voryn nuzzling him, feeding him, guarding him…

“Oh Neht,” Voryn buried his face in Nerevar’s neck, breathing in his scent directly, before his tongue swiped at a scent gland. That caught Nerevar’s attention, making him moan louder, squirming in Voryn’s arms.

“Hey--” Nerevar protested weakly. His mind felt fuzzy, but he knew that was crossing a line at least. “Watch it.”

“You smell divine…” Voryn purred. “Nice and sweet…” He resumed the licking, leaving Nerevar whining softly, his hips moving in small circles until Voryn pressed his hips firmly against Nerevar’s ass, holding him still with a growl. His cunt throbbed at that, suddenly overcome with the realization he was empty right now, so fucking empty--he needed something in him. Right now. Fingers, a toy, a cock, just something filling him up--

Then, Voryn was pulling back suddenly, jerking his hands away as though he was burned. Nerevar looked up at him confused and dazed, Voryn’s face flushed red.

“You’re in heat.” Voryn murmured, suddenly realizing what was going on. Nerevar, however, took a few moments to process his words, before anxiety bubbled up inside him.

“No I’m not--” He wasn’t the type to go into heat smelling an alpha in rut. He had never done so before, and he wasn’t due for his heat for a few months anyways. Besides, when he was in heat he was nesting and--

Nerevar glanced at the pillows and blankets Voryn had put around him, realizing when he had done so Nerevar felt much more secure and comfortable. He’d been antsy before, paranoid and feeling exposed until the soft, plush walls were around him. He also felt more sensitive to his clothes, feeling warm and aroused--

“I-I hate people touching me in heat,” Nerevar tried to explain quickly, sitting up and panicked. “I can’t be…” That was right, he couldn’t be. He hated being touched during his heat, growling and hissing as the touch was physically painful. But Voryn touching him hadn’t hurt at all, it felt…

Nerevar’s hands were trembling as he got up quickly, tugging the robe shut firmly and making sure the tie was secure, before he took off running for the propylon chamber. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he just knew he needed to not be there anymore. Something was wrong with him after all; very, very wrong with him. He paid no mind to Voryn calling after him, even as his anxiety spiked hearing the concern and anger in his voice; he just kept running through the halls, sprinting past servants and attendants until he made it to the chamber, giving quick orders to send him to Mournhold before he was teleported away.

At the palace, Nerevar didn’t stop to catch his breath either. The air felt cold and stifling as he continued running, spriting like a mad man until he made it to his room where he swiftly locked the door. He drew the curtains, blocking out the light until it was dark, his anxiety still not ceasing. He tripped on a chair in his scramble, swearing up a storm as he kicked and snarled, breaking a leg off the chair. He then grabbed it as he stood, throwing it to the wall resulting in the wood splintering against the heavy stone and knocking several tapestries down. Now in darkness he retreated to his bed, trying to curl up to find comfort.

His bed felt wrong. Wrong, disgusting, cold, uncomfortable… Even as he moved the blankets and pillows he just felt worse. None of them were as comfortable as Voryn’s bed, covered in his scent…

Nerevar tugged the robe off, burying his face in it, whining softly. The scent, despite being musky and strong, was so comforting. He never used to find an alpha’s scent so soothing before, why now? Even when he was in heat he’d growl if any alpha even so much as came near his room, so why this? Why now?!

A few servants knocked on the door, calling for him alarmed. Then a few healers. He didn’t respond to any of them, laying there in silence, too ashamed to even tell them to leave. It felt like his skin was crawling, and he simultaneously felt both hyper-aggressive and like he had no strength in him. Then it was Almalexia, knocking.

“Nerevar?!” He growled weakly; he didn’t want anyone to see him, let alone a different alpha--no, he needed to get rid of that mindset. Voryn wasn’t special, at least, not as an alpha. Voryn was his closest friend yet, but if he didn’t want to be seen by anyone, that meant anyone. Especially not Voryn, an alpha in rut, when he was obviously in heat.

“Are you injured?” She asked. “What happened in Kogoruhn--” A few more people spoke quietly to her, their voices too hushed for him to hear. In the back of his mind, he knew it was only logical she’d ask; he did come sprinting through the palace in one of Voryn’s robes, running like a pack of nix-hounds were trying to kill him. What was supposed to be a political meeting ending in such a sight would be a great cause of concern--one Nerevar should smooth over before anyone marched to Kogoruhn accusing Voryn of treason. But he didn’t have the energy to do so; all he wanted to do was curl up and forget the rest of the world entirely.

“Nerevar,” It was Vivec now, knocking at his door, voice level and a bit softer than how he usually spoke, “The healers are here, will you let them in?”

“I don’t need to see a healer.” He growled, enraged. It was stupid; Nerevar knew something was wrong with his body, but the idea of being seen by a bunch of strangers right now poking and prodding at him felt like a fate worse than death.

“Voryn is here.” A sensation ran straight through Nerevar he didn’t have a proper name for. Anticipation? Anxiety? Want? It was impossible to place, but it made him feel restless. “Would you prefer to see him?”

“No!” Nerevar suddenly snapped, his voice much louder than it had to be. He was terrified of what would happen if he saw Voryn again right now. Part of him wanted to, deep down; he wasn’t this restless and anxious simply laying in Voryn’s bed. In fact he felt nice--warm and fuzzy and safe. But he didn’t know what was going on, or what would happen if he followed that thread of desire to the end.

“Did Voryn hurt you?” Vivec asked, trying to get answers.

“He didn’t hurt me--” Nerevar snapped at that as well. Voryn would never hurt Nerevar. He knew that much. His whole body was screaming, suddenly offended at even the idea. Voryn had been trying so hard to take care of Nerevar, made sure he was comfortable, fed him medicine and even made a nest for him… A wave of heat washed over him quickly at the memory, followed by a spike in anxiety. “I just--I don’t know what’s going on!”

A few moments of silence followed, before Vivec sighed. “Let me come in.” That seemed less risky than healers he hardly knew or an alpha. Nerevar’s brain, as was so common while in heat, was in survival mode after all, constantly looking out for any potential threat. But Vivec was another omega, and a bonded one at that. Someone close to him and trusted.

After Nerevar gave a quiet answer, Vivec unlocked the door with a spell, slipping inside and then shutting and locking the door behind him. He approached the bed slowly, not sitting on it or touching him.

“Tell me what happened and I’ll tell the others.” His voice was quiet, knowing just how jumpy and aggressive an omega could get in this state.

“I…” Nerevar swallowed. He didn’t want to recount it, embarrassed now that his luck had in fact run out just like Voryn said it might. “Ruts don’t usually trigger heat in me.” Nerevar said, his voice wavering.

“I’m aware.”

“But it was…” Nerevar gave a shaky sigh. “I don’t… Know what happened. My body just started… Going into heat all of a sudden while I was laying on his bed, without me even realizing it.” Normally he could tell the warning signs of an impending heat: irritability, hunger, defensiveness, physical discomfort, even a sensitivity to light. “I also hate being touched when I’m in heat, it fucking hurts,” He hissed softly, remembering the warm, welcomed touch of Voryn’s hands on him as the other scented him. His skin burned despite no one touching him at the moment, and he wanted the relief of Voryn once again. Vivec still raised an eyebrow at that. “It always does but then I… It didn’t hurt when he was touching me. It felt… Nice. Relaxing.” Vivec hummed contemplatively at that.

“When he realized I was… Going into heat he pulled away. And I realized it too and panicked and ran back here.” He did regret making a scene but he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do.

“I’ll speak with the healers.” The most they’d be able to do was a suppressant, but at this point Nerevar would take it. He wanted this feeling to stop. Desperately.

“Nerevar?!” He heard Voryn’s voice outside the door. “Nerevar, are you alright?” The concern in his voice had Nerevar’s heart racing, but he was still anxious about what would happen if he saw Voryn again. The sensation he was losing control was terrifying, after all.

“I think it would be best you see him, Neht.” Vivec said simply, moving towards the door. “He’s going to tear the palace apart trying to get to you.” Nerevar’s anxiety only grew at that; what if Voryn got hurt? What if people assumed the worst? Not to mention it was only making the other, strange feelings inside him grow all the more strong at the notion Voryn desperately needed him.

“L…” He hesitated, before he tugged the robe out from under him and back onto his body to make himself decent. “Let him in.”

As soon as the door was opened, Voryn shoved his way past the guards and Vivec into the room, Vivec retreating outside once more to hush the angered guards, attendants, and healers who wanted to drag him back out.

“Neht,” Voryn’s voice went hushed as he quickly made his way to the bed, climbing on without a care. Nerevar had half a mind to snap at him, before Voryn was stroking at his skin and scenting him again. He felt himself melting already from the familiar scent filling the room, along with the soothing touch on his skin. “Thank gods you’re alright.” The room still felt wrong, but he felt a hell of a lot better being tended to like this, the burning under his skin slowly fading.

“Voryn…” He murmured, closing his eyes. He tried to will himself to feel more comfortable; he was in his room, the same place he always was for all of his heats. Maybe it was because there were people outside his door? It was possible; he hated being bothered when he was in heat.

Then the door opened after a few, pleasant moments, Voryn growling with pure rage. The healer who entered was an older beta woman, but even she shuddered.

“I mean his majesty no harm.” It was a healer he saw many times in the past. She then glanced at Nerevar in the dim lighting. “I know what happened, Lord Nerevar.”

Nerevar sat up at that, eager for answers, but Voryn kept an arm wrapped around his waist securely.

“... In all honesty,” The healer began, sounding exacerbated, “I have never seen a case like this in all my years. But there is only one answer I can come to based on everything else.”

“Go on.” Nerevar tried to keep his voice level rather than annoyed. Azura knows how terrified most people got when he was angry.

The healer pinched the bridge of her nose.

“How familiar are you with fated mates?” At her question, Nerevar froze, stunned, before he gave a loud bark of laughter. The healer, however, did not laugh or smile back, and instead only looked more resolute.

“... Be serious with me.”

“I am being serious, Lord Nerevar.”

“Are you--are you seriously trying to say Voryn is my--”

“I understand how strange it sounds at first.” The healer cut him off. “Typically when someone meets their fated mate they determine it quickly. It only takes a few heat or rut cycles before the draw is undeniable.” She sighed once again. “I can only assume because you knew Lord Dagoth before either of you presented, the draw was less noticeable.”

It kind of made sense, to a degree. When people wrote about fated mates it was usually that they had a scent that was undeniable. Even passing by them on the street, you couldn’t get the scent out of your head for days on end, trying to find it again and again. Even those who tried to deny it couldn’t refuse the pull forever; heats and ruts were unbearable, the longing overwhelming the pair. No one had ever recorded an account of a fated pair who knew each other prior to presenting though; fated mates were absurdly rare, after all. They were more common in fiction than real life, and only the most hopeless of romantics ever went out actually looking for one. Most people just found a mate they liked rather than chase after some destined person, and why fated mates even existed was a mystery. Did everyone have one but distance kept them from finding one? That didn’t seem likely; the most common belief was that some people were born with them--not many members of the population, anyways--and even fewer actually found their ‘other half’. Someone meeting a fated mate before presenting, when you were children not off exploring the wider world yet, was even more unlikely.

Dumac told him the dwemer scholars believed it had something to do with ‘reproductive compatibility’. Not that it was a mystical, god given connection like some believed, but rather those with a fated partner were less compatible with most of the population, so when they did find someone they could produce children with easily, the desire to mate was enhanced strongly. Nerevar didn’t know if he liked that explanation either though. He found the ideas the gods made destined partners to love each other forever as too romantic of an idea for reality yes, but presuming there must be something wrong with them instead wasn’t much better.

It didn’t seem likely that he and Voryn could just ignore the draw for decades though, right? Surely that wouldn’t be possible. The draw was supposed to be strong, impossible to deny past a certain point.

Sure, when he was younger and Voryn was in a rut he always came by to check on him before he was shooed away, but that was just boredom. And when he was in heat Voryn would pass him notes under the door from time to time that he’d bury in the nests he made, but that was just because being in heat made him feel sensitive and sappy. Nothing more. And shouldn’t there be something more if they were a fated pair?

“Your other symptoms make me more certain of it.” The healer continued, pulling him from his thoughts.

“How so?” Nerevar raised an eyebrow.

“It isn’t healthy for an unmated omega to be around an alpha in rut.” She replied, a fact that always made Nerevar roll his eyes. “It causes excess stress, even if it doesn’t trigger a heat. Unless you are drawn to the alpha in question as a potential partner, usually a rut is off putting, distressing, or nauseating for an unmated omega.”

“They’ve never bothered me to that extent.” Nerevar snarked.

“Precisely.” She locked eyes with him. “You handle it more akin to an omega who’s already been mated, despite not having the scent of one.” Nerevar tensed at that. He hadn’t thought of it like that in the slightest; why would he? He wasn’t mated. Anyone could smell on him that he wasn’t. “Those who have met a fated partner experience mated behaviors before the bond is even set. Rejecting other suitors, unbothered by others in a heat or rut,” She sighed. “Lord Vivec even explained you were giving off the same scent as a bonded omega whose mate was absent.” Nerevar’s cheeks flushed at that.

“That’s--” Nerevar tensed slightly, “I wouldn’t go that far.” Surely Nerevar wasn’t. He wasn’t fucking bonded, why would he be throwing out the same scent as an omega who went into heat, begging for their mate to come tend to them?

“You were.” She asserted, though she did have some sympathy in her gaze at least. “Unfortunately, the best I can do is, if you truly don’t want the bond, I can give you suppressants. They won’t actively stop it right now given you already went into heat, but they should calm some of the worst side effects for a time.” Nerevar already knew what she was going to say next though. “But your next one will be much the same. The side effects will continue to worsen.” Short of running away to the other side of the continent and burning anything he owned that Voryn had ever so much as touched, he would be able to smell Voryn faintly, after all. In the palace, on his belongings, anywhere Voryn had been might trigger the worst of the symptoms all over again now that he had a heat triggered by his rut no doubt.

“At the very least, Lord Dagoth is in control of his emotions.” Voryn’s brow twitched at that, his arms tightening. “You can spend ruts and heats together without actually mating, until you come to a decision on how to proceed. It should alleviate both of your struggles.”

Shit, Nerevar hadn’t even considered what Voryn must be going through. Was his irritation and lack of eating because he subconsciously knew Nerevar was supposed to be his mate but wasn’t there by his side? When he was younger was that out of character, violent rage because he knew, right there in the stronghold, his mate was being kept from him? No doubt the next rut Voryn would be uncontrollable; before he could hold back because he wasn’t consciously aware of what he wanted, but now that he knew it was Nerevar…

Nerevar felt himself getting all the more wet at the prospect of Voryn tearing his way across the country for him, earning a low growl from Voryn and the healer clearing her throat.

“I’ll leave the two of you to discuss it.” She said, now turning to leave. Nerevar felt his cheeks flush in a rush of embarrassment; no doubt because he was in heat the arousal led to a surge of pheromones in the air all but begging for Voryn to fuck him. “We will be waiting outside for your answer.”

As soon as the door shut, Voryn was fussing over him again, marking him with his scent by nuzzling into his hair and against his cheek. But quickly the tension was melting off of Voryn’s body as he began apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, Neht.”

“This isn’t your fault.” Nerevar huffed. “I’m the idiot who deliberately stuck around after you told me not to.”

“You didn’t know either.” Voryn sighed. “I could have made you leave but I… I felt more comfortable with you there.” If it was anything like what Nerevar was going through he could understand it. “Besides… If what the healer said is true then this was bound to happen.” That was also true; it was a miracle it hadn’t happened until now. If it wasn’t Nerevar insisting on spending time with Voryn during a rut, it could just as easily be Voryn stumbling upon him in heat, or anything else really.

“Do you want to take the suppressants?” Voryn asked, and Nerevar sighed, shaking his head.

“No,” He rubbed his eyes, feeling sluggishness settle into his body. “It’ll help only temporarily, and make it worse next time around.”

“But they might help you think clearer.” Voryn countered. “I don’t want you making any decisions with a clouded head.”

“I’m not completely out of it, Voryn. A bit anxious, yes, but it’s not like I’m drunk.” Nerevar hated those kinds of assumptions; the stereotype that omegas were just needy, pathetic little things that couldn’t think for themselves once they were in heat was the most infuriating one.

At his anger though, Voryn hushed him, nuzzling into his neck apologetically and licking a scent gland. Nerevar huffed at first, still rigid, until the affection soothed him, now groaning softly in delight instead as he head fell to the side to give Voryn more room.

“Then,” Voryn began, “Would you prefer to stay here?” His hand rubbed soothing circles on Nerevar’s lower stomach. “Or do you want to return to my room?”

“Mm…” Nerevar knew it would probably be easier if he stayed here; he had healers and attendants he was used to, not to mention he knew the layout of his room well and kept it stocked with toys, erotica, anything he needed to help him get off. Even if the two of them only went so far as masturbating together rather than mating, those would be helpful.

But the room didn’t feel entirely comfortable, even with Voryn there. Damn hormones were likely acting up on that front, but no use arguing with something illogical.

“Your room is probably better.” He admitted, pulling himself out of Voryn’s arms to start packing. “Let me just get a few things and we can head back. Hopefully without the whole damn palace gossiping about it…”

“It’ll be alright.” Voryn reassured him, rubbing his back gently. “The palace was mostly quiet today.” He then coughed awkwardly, “Before I… Came running through after you.” Nerevar snorted at that. “After how thoroughly I scented you though I doubt most will be able to tell what’s going on.”

“Hopefully.” Nerevar wasn’t keeping it a secret he was an omega exactly, but he didn’t want to go shouting it to the world either. It was better to keep people guessing rather than anyone giving him shit for it unnecessarily. He still grabbed his travel pack, carelessly shoving some comfortable clothes and sleeping robes in, along with a few changes of underwear, and a favorite pillow of his. He also managed to cram in a few toys and a steamy novel he enjoyed, able to smell the spike of Voryn’s arousal at the sight from how strong his pheromones were.

Another trip through the propylon chamber later--this time less hurried and better dressed, and they were once again walking back to Voryn’s private chambers. On the way there Voryn ordered attendants as they went, requesting a large dinner to be brought to his room that evening for Nerevar too, as well that Nerevar would be staying in Kogoruhn for several days. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Nerevar was going to be spending Voryn’s rut with him, the servants all scrambling at the knowledge.

Just before they reached the room another healer appeared, handing Voryn several vials of potions, before giving a respectful bow and leaving. Voryn’s cheeks were more red at that, but he took them regardless, letting Nerevar enter the room.

It was mostly as he left it, albeit with a few blankets and pillows knocked off from his speedy exit and a few tapestries fallen off the wall from a door slamming. A wardrobe was left open, probably from Voryn’s scramble to make himself semi-decent before chasing after Nerevar.

He tossed his bag to the side of the bed, already feeling relieved to be back. Voryn locked the door behind them, moving to draw the curtains shut as Nerevar began fussing over the pillows and blankets, making sure the bed would be comfortable for him. With more than enough room for Voryn this time, something that had excitement bubbling away in his chest.

“What are the potions for?” Nerevar asked as he added his own pillow to the bed, still arranging it. It was annoying to do it in heat--normally he got started a few days prior, but whatever.

“... Birth control.” Voryn admitted, and Nerevar’s hands stopped briefly.

He knew that was only logical. Even if they ended up going further, actually having sex or mating entirely, most didn’t want to have kids the first time. It took a while to adjust to a mate, see if you wanted to keep the bond… Then again, it was said fated mates couldn’t remove the bond once they did mate.

Still, hearing ‘birth control’ made it seem that much more… Real. They were going to spending Voryn’s rut and Nerevar’s heat together. Very easily one thing could lead to another, and he could… Actually have sex with Voryn.

“... Better to be prepared than not.” Nerevar finally replied, resuming his work, before flopping into the nest he made. As soon as he was situated, Voryn stripped out of the additional robe he threw on top of his night clothes for decency, climbing in to lay beside Nerevar.

“Did you eat properly?” He asked, fretting over him. Nerevar snorted.

“Says the one who forgot to eat.” Nerevar teased.

“I was…” Voryn sighed. “Too anxious to eat. I get wound up during a rut, and the idea of eating was nauseating.” He closed his eyes. “Until you showed up.”

“Well I’m glad I made it easier for you.” Nerevar smiled. “And for your information, yes. I did in fact eat a large breakfast and lunch, as always.” He always had a big appetite after all, though he was especially ravenous during heats. “Though I wont say no to a big mudcrab feast for dinner~” Voryn laughed loudly at that, head thrown back and canines glinting. Nerevar swallowed roughly at the sight, subconsciously rubbing his own neck.

“I’m glad you’re well fed then.” Voryn was still smiling warmly. “Hopefully you won’t eat me out of house and home.”

“Get a bigger house then if I do.” Nerevar teased back.

“I certainly will have to, won’t I?” Voryn was smirking now, rolling on top of Nerevar. “I have to keep my mate well taken care of…” Voryn went back to his neck, kissing and licking now, earning several long, breathy moans from Nerevar.

Gods, did Nerevar know what Vivec meant when he said heats were so much easier like this. Nerevar thought obviously a mate or even just a potential one you spent a heat with would make it a bit more bearable. But this… He didn’t feel nearly as irritable as he usually was, now feeling quite secure, not to mention his arousal wasn’t frustrating it just…

“Mmm…” Voryn groaned softly, grinding his hips against Nerevar’s. “Such a sweet scent when you’re aroused…” Voryn nipped at his ear next, making Nerevar arch up and keen.

“Ah,” Nerevar gasped, grinding his hips in return, “Is it?” He didn’t have many people telling him he smelled sweet; usually he was compared to things that were fresh and bright, like citrus or herbs.

“Delightfully sweet.” Voryn purred. “Perfectly so, just to my taste…” Voryn then pulled up from his neck, taking his chin in hand.

Nerevar’s heartbeat accelerated from the look in Voryn’s eyes. In every raunchy novel he read, alphas were described as ravenously hungry when they stared down omegas, like a predator having just caught its prey. But here Nerevar didn’t feel like prey; Voryn’s eyes were hungry, yes, but more so they were warm, affectionate and…

Loving. Devoted. Like he would do anything and everything for Nerevar’s sake.

Nerevar’s eyes fell half shut as he found himself leaning up, Voryn meeting him halfway to connect their lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

It was entirely out of order; normally you kissed and courted someone before you invited them to spend a rut or heat with you, contrary to many smutty novels and ballads where the couple spontaneously fell into bed together during one. By Azura, the two already knew each other for so many years too, and they were just barely kissing…

Gods, no wonder people described it like fate. It felt insane that they hadn’t kissed before now. That it took so long for them to get here, sprawled out in bed together. The scent from Voryn was intoxicating as the kisses warmed up from slow and soft to passionate ones that made Nerevar feel entirely breathless. When Nerevar swiped his tongue into Voryn’s mouth, flicking briefly against his fangs, Nerevar shuddered, slipping one hand down between his thighs to rub back and forth against his dick.

“So eager…” Voryn moaned against his lips, his own hand joining Nerevar’s. Even through the fabric the touch was electric, Nerevar’s body trembling slightly. “Did you want a toy inside you then?” Voryn asked, his voice low and deep, the sound going straight to Nerevar’s cunt.

“Yeah…” Nerevar moaned softly. “A toy, your fingers…” Voryn was already undressing him, throwing the robe open and sliding his underwear off, “Anything…”

“My cock?” Voryn offered with a smirk, only joking. Still though, Nerevar groaned at the thought; fuck yes did he want Voryn’s cock in him, fucking him to completion and then knotting him. He was already dripping wet at just the idea, after all. But he also knew they should take things slower.

“T-toy for now…” Nerevar groaned through grit teeth, before hissing as Voryn played with his dick while fishing around in the bag beside the bed.

“Which one?” Voryn asked, still not letting up his teasing in the slightest. It felt so damn good, but Nerevar felt too empty! He threw an arm over his eyes, panting.

“Th-the…” Using his words was more difficult than he thought. “The one with the… Big knot~” A moment later, Voryn pulled it out, sliding the tip against Nerevar’s entrance. “Hah~!”

“Is this one your favorite?” Voryn asked, a devilish smirk still on his face. Nerevar didn’t even have to look, he could feel the pleased look on his face as he started to tease it in.

“Mm, when I’m in heat, yeah~” He could have lied, but what was the fucking point? Voryn was already fucking him with the damn thing, why play coy? Voryn slid it in a few inches, groaning softly as he watched it vanish into Nerevar’s body, before thrusting it in and out. It was a different rhythm than Nerevar used, but like everything else today it wasn’t unwelcomed.

“Oh I’ll bet…” Voryn purred. “When you’re in heat you love taking a nice,” He gave a sharper thrust, letting Nerevar take it all up to just before the knot, but not quite pushing it in, “Big knot in your greedy little cunt, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Would you fuck yourself to completion and then take the whole thing?” He continued moving at that sharp, hurried pace as he slid it in and out of Nerevar.

“Fuck, yes—yes!!” He was panting desperately now, savoring the feeling. Voryn’s dirty talk was making this all the better—how had he gone so long without this?! If he’d known it would be this good, he’d have climbed into Voryn’s bed long before this.

“Imagining someone breeding you up?” Voryn was panting too, watching Nerevar with rapt attention.

“Please,” Nerevar pleaded, feeling how close he was to an orgasm just hearing that. “Please, please~!” He tried grinding his hips down on the toy, desperate to feel the knot slipping inside him, but Voryn kept it from doing so.

“My knot is the only one you’re going to feel this time, Neht.” Voryn growled low in Nerevar’s ear. “Only mine.”

In response, Nerevar growled in return, quickly flipping positions as he climbed on top of Voryn instead. The toy completely slipped out, soon lost in the piles of pillows and blankets, as Voryn growled in return. The two were wrestling once again, though this time it wasn’t quite as playful. Honestly, Nerevar probably would have won this one by how seriously he was taking it, but heats made his body so groggy he wasn’t up to his usual strength.

“Get inside me then.” Nerevar demanded through grit teeth as Voryn shoved him back down, prying his legs back open.

“Lay there and I will.” Nerevar still snarled, thrashing. “Now hold still or I’ll make you.” The threat made his cunt ache again, a long moan crawling out of his throat.

“Potion—“ Nerevar freed one arm, reaching for them. Voryn grabbed one, placing it in Nerevar’s hand as he finished undressing himself. Nerevar uncapped it and threw his head back, chugging it.

To Oblivion with taking it slow. He needed Voryn—all of him.

He tossed the potion bottle aside, wrapping his arms around Voryn as he nuzzled his face into his neck, now being the one to lick and kiss at a scent gland, almost intoxicated by the spice and musk.

“Neht,” Voryn hissed.

“Let’s mate.” Nerevar whispered, before feeling Voryn tense up. Silence followed, except for Voryn’s heavy breathing.

“Nerevar we don’t have to mate just to—“

“I want to.” Nerevar pulled back enough to look at him. “Be honest with me Voryn, who else am I going to mate with?” The very idea Nerevar could mate with someone else made Voryn’s anger spike, clear from the scent he gave off. “And even if we just tried to deny mating, just spending heats and ruts together, we’ll both lose it eventually.” The draw was supposedly undeniable, and Nerevar wanted to do it at least semi lucid without pain and desperation making the experience less enjoyable.

“Besides,” Nerevar now gave a warm smile, the low light still twinkling in his eyes. “You’re a very devoted, loving, strong alpha…” Voryn shuddered. “Making sure I’m well fed, giving me medicine…”

“I have to take care of you…” Voryn whispered. “You mean the world to me.”

“Exactly.” Nerevar was still smiling, now thumbing at Voryn’s lower lip as he cupped his cheek. “Who else could possibly take care of me as well as you? You’re the one who’s always been there for me. You guarded my back in war, supported me on my quest to become hortator, and even long before I was a hero, just some canvasari not even wanted by his own house, you took care of me and showed me respect.” Just as easily, Voryn could have tossed him aside. Childish friendships with lower classes didn’t need to be kept by chimer nobility. Any other would have probably ‘outgrown’ Nerevar, but Voryn didn’t. Because Voryn didn’t just see Nerevar as a toy to be played with and tossed aside but as himself.

Honestly, even being tossed aside by another noble would have been a good outcome. Many would have also taken Nerevar as a concubine after he presented, or sold him off given he had nowhere else to go. But Voryn always saw him as a friend he treasured.

“But,” Voryn gave a sigh, “You don’t love me.”

Ah. Nerevar didn’t think Voryn was the type to only want to mate when you truly loved someone. It only made sense he supposed, most people did, but he was used to seeing things in terms of practicality.

“Voryn,” He stroked his cheek, “Maybe I don’t love you romantically… Yet.” Nerevar wouldn’t discount that at all; if he’d fall in love with anyone, right now he imagined it would be Voryn. “And I don’t really know… What it’s even like to fall in love with someone completely like that given I’ve only had a few flings and a political marriage but,” He looked up into Voryn’s eyes, never more certain in matters of the heart than he was now. “I do know I care about you deeply. More than anyone else in my life.” Nerevar licked his lips. “And there is no person in the world I’d rather be mated with than you.”

Silence then followed, Voryn staring at him in shock. Suddenly nervous, Nerevar began to backpedal slightly.

“Of course I understand if you want to wait. I-gods, it would probably be easier for you if we did the whole courtship and dating thing first, wouldn’t it—“ He was then cut off by a kiss, Voryn’s tongue swiping into his mouth.

“I want to mate with you, Neht.” Voryn whispered, as he pulled away with a smile. “Tonight.”

“Are you sure? I—“ Nerevar swallowed roughly as he felt Voryn lift one of his legs up, his own instincts screaming at him that he needed this—that he needed to stop talking and get fucked right then and there.

“I’m certain.” Voryn said, his tone unwavering as he kept that warm smile on his face, his eyes shining. “Do you want me to mate with you before, during, or after?”

Nerevar licked his lips, thinking it over. A claiming bite was said to be extremely pleasurable, once the initial pain wore off. Some preferred to get it out of the way before sex, enjoying their new bond before warming back up. Some preferred the orgasmic rush that came with a claiming bite in the middle of sex. Others preferred to claim their mates while they laid together, panting and connected after being knotted.

“Not before,” Nerevar answered, his whole body still feeling warm. “I can’t… I can’t wait that long.” His body was still screaming at him to move, push the alpha on top of him down and ride him if he wasn’t going to take Nerevar already. He was squirming, antsy under Voryn’s gaze, and feeling too fucking empty again to think properly.

“Here,” Voryn whispered, pressing the head of his cock to Nerevar’s entrance. Nerevar’s breath hitched, before giving a long, drawn out moan as Voryn slid inside. “Why don’t we just see what feels right in the moment…”

“Voryn~!” Nerevar arched up, trembling slightly.

It felt good. It felt right. It occurred to him, at that moment, that this was what he’d wanted every heat. Every struggling minute of desperation, every orgasm that didn’t quite feel satisfying enough—he wanted Voryn.

Voryn threaded his fingers with Nerevar’s, pinning both of his hands to the bed as he gave a slow thrust, kissing him for all he was worth. No wonder his heats were so much more unbearable after he moved to Mournhold—he had assumed it was the heat and stress of being king, but he knew now it was his body screaming at him to return back to Voryn. To lose himself in Voryn’s embrace, just like this.

“Fuck…” Voryn groaned as he pulled away from the messy kiss. “Incredible—you feel incredible~”

Such a comment only stroked his pride, adding to the pleasure. He was making his mate feel good. He was making his mate feel just as good as he felt. It was enough to make his head spin, as every thrust quickly matched that sharp, hurried pace Voryn had set earlier with the toy.

“Claim me~” Nerevar whined, turning his head to expose his neck. Nerevar could feel it—he wanted to be claimed. Oh gods did he want to be claimed! Before he felt disgust whenever alphas glanced at his neck, trying to determine if he was a claimed omega or a beta of some kind. But now though he wanted it more than anything—

Voryn complied, moving down quickly, not letting the pace of his thrusts falter as he growled, nuzzling Nerevar’s neck. He licked and kissed, listening to every sharp whine from Nerevar that followed, before finally biting.

Nerevar’s mind went blank the second Voryn bit him, his eyes rolling back as he orgasmed.

It felt unreal—every fucking novel he read left him sorely unprepared for the pleasurable rush that hit him. It was pure bliss; every nerve in his body burning brightly from ecstasy, as Voryn growled deeply.

He was officially mated. He belonged to Voryn. He found his mate and everything felt perfect, sparks still shooting up and down his spine as Voryn pulled his teeth out, panting and growling even more harshly as his hips somehow moved faster and rougher. He could feel Voryn’s knot forming too, pumping in and out of his cunt in a way that hit his sweet spot every time.

“Tight—!” Voryn snarled. “So tight, so damn tight… Neht!”

“Knot me…” Nerevar moaned, coaxing Voryn further, feeling intoxicated from the pleasure still coursing through him. “Knot me, breed me up~” He ground his hips down at every thrust inside him, forcing Voryn to change the rhythm. Now, every thrust in he stayed a moment longer, grinding down, his knot catching on Nerevar’s entrance.

By now, Voryn had let go of Nerevar’s hands, face still buried in Nerevar’s neck as he moaned and growled into his ear. “I’m going to,“ Voryn panted. “I’m going to breed you, knot you until I know my seed takes—!” It wouldn’t, not after the potion Nerevar took, but he wasn’t thinking logically at the moment. All he was thinking about was how great it felt being fucked and bred by his mate, his alpha. “Mine! You’re all mine! Mine mine mine mine mine—!”

Finally, the knot refused to slip out. It swelled up completely, pressed firmly inside him, and Nerevar gasped as a new sensation overtook him.

He felt himself tighten even further, making Voryn moan long and loud, as the two were now firmly locked together. An orgasm hit him next, even more intense than the one from the claiming bite. If the bite was an intense, all encompassing blast of fire—like a star going supernova—this one was a drawn out burn. His mind didn’t go blank, instead forcing him to focus on the pleasure, as he felt heat inside him.

“Fuck~!!” Nerevar yelled, practically screaming, dragging his nails down Voryn’s back as his body shuddered, his cunt clenching and milking the cock still firmly sealed inside him.

He knew what it was, yet he never really experienced it, so his knowledge was only really how it would be in theory. He never let an alpha knot him, after all; even if he had to have sex for political reasons he doused himself in perfume oil to hide his pheromones and always made sure they pulled out. Supposedly an omega locking happened much more commonly in heat, tightening around the knot as they orgasmed, keeping every drop of seed in to ensure conception…

Nerevar felt another wave of the long orgasm following, a broken, garbled moan spilling from his lips as Voryn rocked his hips.

“Stop moving!” Nerevar pleaded. If he kept rocking his knot right there—right against Nerevar’s sweet spot—he was never going to stop climaxing.

“Stop cumming!” Voryn hissed back, before groaning. “Oh gods you’re milking me for every drop!” He continued the slow rocking, as Nerevar felt fuller and fuller, his vision going hazy as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I can’t…” Nerevar whined. “Too full…” Nerevar groaned, still trembling. “It’s too much….” There was too much inside him—before he felt painfully empty, and now he felt far too full. Voryn’s cock, his knot, and every drop of seed was filling him—

Another wave of pleasure followed, as Voryn growled.

“Your body wants this so badly…” He snarled, nipping at the claiming bite he left. “Get pregnant!” He hissed, enjoying the way Nerevar’s body tightened around him once more. The command was enough to make him shudder, yet another wave of pleasure following. “Get pregnant, get pregnant!” Voryn urged with a bit more rocking, before Nerevar tugged him into another messy, open mouthed kiss.

If it wasn’t for the potion, Nerevar knew he would be. It seemed impossible for him not to conceive when it felt this good—when he was so full and not a drop spilling out of him despite Voryn’s movements…

Eventually the pleasure subsided, Voryn’s movements slowing as their kiss went from feral and intense to something slower and lazier, kissing each other over and over as Nerevar ran his hands through Voryn’s long hair.

“Fuck…” Nerevar groaned, breathlessly. “Intense…” It felt like an understatement, but that was the only word that came to mind as Voryn panted.

“Gods…” Voryn groaned. “You were… Tighter than I had expected…” He hissed, shifting slightly again, but this time just to help them lay more comfortably.

“It still feels too big…” Nerevar groaned. Now it was slightly uncomfortable, but he knew the more they did this, the more his body would adjust. To help ease his discomfort, Voryn pressed a few gentle kisses to his face, keeping himself still.

“Is it too full?” Voryn asked, and Nerevar nodded. Voryn sat up slightly, and the pressure being taken off his lower stomach was a relief, especially as Voryn caressed it.

As Nerevar looked down, he could see why: there was a slight swell in his stomach from the pressure. He groaned, already regretting the decision to have sex on his back. He knew now why omegas preferred mating face down, and that it had nothing to do with submission and instead purely comfort.

“Don’t worry,” Voryn reassured him. “Just a few minutes…” His voice trailed off as his eyes went dark, taking in the sight of Nerevar under him, panting and covered in sweat, filled with his seed. Nerevar could tell what he was thinking from the change of the scent in the air, sparks from their newly formed connection.

“Like what you see…?” Nerevar asked with a toothy, cocky grin, only to groan as he felt Voryn shift again.

“Keep acting like that and I’ll only want to take you again…” Voryn replied, his voice low. Nerevar still felt rather proud at that; his mate didn’t like a soft, demure, and submissive type of omega like he always kind of worried an alpha would demand once they mated. Instead, Voryn seemed to enjoy him earnestly, even with all of his showboating and teasing.

“Maybe you should…” Nerevar purred in response. “We can have dinner, a relaxing bath to recover…” Nerevar’s eyes were half lidded as he spoke. “And then you can fill me up all over again…”

The warm, messy kiss Voryn gave him was all the answer Nerevar needed.

#nerevoryn #nerevar #indoril nerevar #voryn dagoth #ill edit this and post it on ao3 later #curse all the citizens of the fanfic website #my writing #not sfw #i already have more curse omegaverse ideas for these idiots #like neht going into heat suddenly while still a canvasari and voryn having to protect him all the way back to kogoruhn #but i will let you all suffer with this #for now

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sketchy-rosewitch · 1 year

Text

Photoshoots and Home videos: Bo Sinclair x plus-size!fem!reader

+18 minors dni

Warnings: Reader is morally grey, nudity, face sitting, PinV, soft Bo

A/N: Seeing fat women on his picture wall made my heart flutter so yeah 🫠

Masterlist

The room under the gas station was one you weren’t allowed in. You never understood why. It wasn’t like Vincent or Bo hid the fact that they were killers from you. So what’s the worse you could’ve seen from it?

You slide the key into the lock and turn the knob, opening the door to the small room.

You see a medical chair with restraints on it and squint. Must’ve been where Bo tortured people.

You look to see a wall of leather harnesses and then do a 180 to a swing. Your face tingles you quickly look away, getting flustered at the thought of Bo using any of this on you. The thing you see next aren’t any better. A mattress and tv in front of it, above the mattress are Polaroids. You walk over already recognizing some of the women, having seen them when you explored around town. All of the pictures are provocative, some in their underwear, others in nothing. All different poses, you see Bo’s lower half in a few of them, he’s behind some too, kissing up their necks. The women are all different sizes and skin tones. Not one wears the same clothes and none of them have any similarities between them. Save for a few with the same hair color, but if they had the same hair color their skin color or body shape was different.

“Bunny?”

You jump, a small gasp leaving you. The breath of air gives away your location as it echos against the walls, you hear Bo groan and he comes down the stairs.

“I told you not to come down here.”

“Sorry, just got a little curious is all…” You look back at the photos, then to your boyfriend. “So when is it my turn? Or are these only saved for those who are gonna die?” You joke, using your thumb to point at the photos.

Bo chuckles at bit, but then goes silent, focusing on the wall behind you. You watch his face as he thinks.

“Can do it whenever you want, been wanting photos of you anyways. Get you some pretty clothes, take some pretty pictures of you, if you’d like.” Bo takes his curled index finger and lifts your chin, kissing you gently. Your chest swells in excitement. You can’t help but giggle.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You bite down on the bend of your finger, turning your body at the waist to get a look at yourself.

Your hair was already done in a way that Bo liked, he bought you a beautiful lingerie set. You just felt unsure, you honestly don’t even know about what.

Your feet pad along the concrete floor as you move from the bathroom back to his little torture room. Your palms start to sweat and you watch as he sets up his camera.

A low whistle comes from Bo’s mouth making you feel flustered. You look down and play with your clammy hands. He walks up to you and takes your hands guiding you to the mattress. “Brightenin’ up the entire room Bunny.”

Your chest tightens in embarrassment as you realize why your little outfit had a fuzzy ball right by your tail bone. You sit and Bo sets a pair of bunny ears on your head, bending one of the ears. You hide your face.

“Bo..”

You can’t even look at him, you just know he has that stupid cute smirk on his face. You hear the camera shutter and look up shocked.

Bo’s already shaking a picture in his hand. “You’re cute, can’t help myself.” Bo shrugs, you huff. “Hey, you got nothin’ to be embarrassed about. You’re the prettiest girl in the world. Just can’t get over how sexy you look baby.”

Bo lays the photo on top of the tv before walking over to you. He leans in, kissing your lips quickly. “Makin’ it hard not to take you right here… maybe I’ll set up my other camera later.” Bo mumbles as he kisses down your neck. Your face heats up, you laugh out of nervousness.“Beautiful Bunny.”

Bo gets back up, and uses his hands to position you like a pinup girl.

He takes a few pictures before telling you how to pose again, then takes more. He then takes the camera off the stand and moves you so you’re laying down.

“Look at you, good girl.” Bo’s hand moves to your throat, your eyes are half open looking at his face. You can’t help the fact that they wander down towards the tent in his pants. You moan lightly, your body already hot from imagining what Bo’s gonna do to you after. You don’t even realize Bo had taken some pictures and began pulling the straps of your lingerie down.

He takes a few more pictures then sets the camera down on the stand again. Bo moves the stand closer to the bed, then moves across the room, you watch as he grabs a leash and collar. Your cunt clenches around nothing.

He tightens the collar around your neck and attaches the leash, tugging you a bit, seeing how well you’ll listen. You smile stupidly up at him. “Such a pretty Bunny.” Bo’s voice is on the brink of a moan.

Bo turns the camera’s timer on and grabs back onto the leash, using his other hand he puts his thumb in your mouth, you look up at him, your heart going crazy with want. The camera flashes and a second later Bo is taking a photo out of it, once it’s developed he shows you this one, you felt so beautiful in it.

You shift a little. “You ready for something else huh?”

“Yeah..” You look away, Bo grabs your face and kisses you deeply. A saliva strand connects the two of you, he backs you up and ties the collar to a bar on the wall.

“Sit still okay?”

You nod up and down frantically and watch as he puts away this camera and gets out a video recorder. You wonder if that’s what the tapes were on top of the tv. He sets the recorder on the stand pressing the red button. You watch as the little red light blinks, Bo turns the screen so it faces towards the two of you. Bo unclips the leash from the collar.

“Bein’ so sweet and good. I trained you so well didn’t I?”

You nod and watch as he slides you out of your lingerie, a small hum comes out of him. “Gonna lay down and you’re gonna sit on my face.”

Anxiety shoots through you. You haven’t done this before. “What if I-“

“None of that. Just do as I say.” Bo takes his boots off and lays down, his head towards the camera. “You’re gonna face the camera. I wanna see all of the pretty faces you’ll make.”

“Okay.” You lick your lips and position yourself so you’re hovering over his face. Bo wastes no time and licks between your folds. You let out a soft moan, his hands grab your thick thighs and pull them. You feel his tongue playing with your clit and let out soft whines. You fall forward slightly as your legs already begin with shake. Your hands hold you up and you grind down on his face wanting more from him. His tongue is fast, your eyes roll up.

“Bo, fuck…”

His fingers grip harder on your thighs. You mewl and start to drool a bit as you watch yourself in the camera. “I- please keep going. I love you, fuck I love your tongue it feels so good.”

It doesn’t take long for you to go over the edge. Your head lolls back and let out a loud cry and ride your orgasm out on his face. Your thighs feel like jelly but you try and get off of Bo. His face it wet with you, you let out a soft moan and kiss his lips, tasting you all over them.

“Why don’t you go ahead and sit on my lap Bunny.” Bo is already moving so he’s sitting in front of the camera, he unzips his jeans and takes them off along with his boxers. A small groan leaves his lips as he takes his cock in his hand for a second. You hesitate, not knowing which way he wants. “C‘mon. Face towards the camera.” His voice is stern, but not in a bad way. You kneel overtop of him, watching him in the camera, he’s smirking and you feel his hands rubbing your stomach and thighs. You relax and move down til you feel the tip of his cock. “S’okay. C’mon.” He encourages. You get a bit more flustered but you lower yourself on his cock, feeling as he stretches you out. Bo moans in your ear. “God you feel so good. Got so lucky with you Bunny.”

“You feel so good too, so big. I-I…” You stop talking when he grips your hips, beginning his own pace, bouncing you on his cock. You let out small whines, he stretches you over and over again. Your mouth is agape, eyes rolled up. “Bo, harder. More please. Please.”

“So polite.” Bo teases, he fucks up into you harder, one hand moves off of your hip and to your clit, his middle finger flicks at it lightly causing you to jerk and jolt around. “Bo, Bo please I like that please.”

He trails kisses up your shoulders and to your neck. “Keep whinin’ like that. God you’re gonna make me cum.”

“I want you to cum. Please, please cum inside me.” You beg, rolling your hips faster. Bo lets out little groans, you feel his cock twitch, making you cum.

Your whole body shakes as you let out a loud squeal. Your cunt pulsing around Bo’s cock causes him to cum, he fills you up, hips jerking into you. You let out soft whines as he comes down from his high. Your vision is hazy. “Good girl. Such a good girl.”

You try and stand up your legs shake and you almost fall, Bo takes you by the arm and laughs. “Lay down Bunny. It’s okay.” He says, guiding you back to the dingy mattress. At this point you don’t even care and you fall right back onto it, eyes closing you begin to fall asleep.

Bo takes the camera and stops recording. He smirks and slides his boxers back on then goes to grab a water bottle and cigarette.

He covers you in a blanket and moves you so you’re laying on his chest. He lights his cigarette and takes a long drag as he rubs your back, relaxing, yet absolutely ecstatic to finally have shown you how beautiful you are.

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #house of wax 2005 #house of wax

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marvel-starwarsfangirl · 2 months

Text

Crosshair and Loyalty

Major spoilers for "The Return"- please tread carefully

Seeing Crosshair in the new episode was everything to me. He's changed so much in so many different ways. And since he's way more talkative and expressive now, we do get to see what's going on in his head. I thought his dialogue in this episode was very interesting and makes me think more about his character.

I find it so interesting that loyalty seems to be Crosshair's guiding light. When he latches on to something, he follows through until they turn on him. Loyalty is something he values so much. And I want to talk about it because it does give us a good look at who he is.

I do believe in "Aftermath," he does say that the Empire and Republic were the same to him. My point is, Crosshair isn't guided by some giant moral compass with the needle always pointing towards good or bad the way Echo is. Crosshair follows whoever is loyal to him. And unfortunately, this leads to the Empire.

"I did betray them, after they betrayed me."

As harsh as the truth is, it's still the truth. Crosshair wouldn't have left the Empire if he didn't get the lights turned on for him in "The Outpost." He values himself as a soldier and an exceptional sniper, something the Empire took advantage of. They didn't care who he was, but he was useful so why not right? Crosshair, seeing his skills valued and feeling powerful, jumps right on board. So, some people aren't following the regime and have to be dealt with, that's not my problem (Crosshair, probably). Anyways, Crosshair follows orders even if they're morally dubious because he's a good soldier. He's valued (at least he thinks so), basic needs met, and his skill is put to use. The Empire isn't doing anything to him personally and he's getting rewarded for it by continuing his service and getting that promotion in "Aftermath." And so life is good... until it isn't. Being as stubborn and stoic as he is, vulnerability doesn't come easy to Crosshair. Even if he won't admit it, the Empire is slowly whittling away at his mind. When we meet him in season 2, the cracks are starting to form. He is struggling. But the Empire is still loyal to him so he can push through the pain and keep going, right?

Looking back, Tech's description of Crosshair being "severe and unyielding" is very accurate. Crosshair is a survivor and will do whatever it takes so keep going. That means that other people might get left behind... or so Crosshair likes to tell others. See, here's the thing about Crosshair and loyalty: when he finds someone who's loyal to him and values him and all that, he sticks to them like glue. Oh sure, he will go on and on about how he'll just get himself out when danger strikes, yet, we never see him actually follow through with that. He's such an interesting character because he is guided by that loyalty he feels towards others. Mayday is a good example of this. Mayday stuck by Crosshair the whole time and ultimately saved his life. Crosshair, feeling lonely, grew to care for Mayday. Thus, when Mayday was injured, Cross didn't hesitate to carry him back. Omega works as well. She didn't have a history with Cross like the others. But her plucky attitude and determination to help him caused him to care for her and genuinely love her.

Deep down in the depths of his heart, Crosshair's one and true loyalty is to his family (plus Cody and Mayday). No Empire or Republic could truly ever break that. Even though he did choose the Empire (this is oversimplifying a lot of things), the Batch never fully left his heart or mind.

Crosshair in the second half of season 1 never made a move to kill the Batch. He did some very twisted things such as luring them into a supposed trap only to kill the imperials, but he never physically shot them. Crosshair's anger towards his brother stemmed from the perception that they were disloyal to him (there is some truth in that).

"You weren't loyal to me." "Don't become my enemy." "Crosshair, we never were."

Crosshair's perception of his brothers' actions deeply hurt him. If he didn't care about them anymore, this wouldn't have bothered him to this degree. But, it does bother him. He loves them. He's loyal to them. But they broke that bond first, at least according to him.

I feel that if Crosshair was truly loyal to the Empire, like 100% no inner conflict, he would've easily killed his brothers in season 1 and called it a night. But that's not what we see. Instead, we see a tormented man who still does care for his family, but is led astray by false promises and hurt feelings. Crosshair's loyalty for his family extends across all seasons. In season 2, Crosshair turns on the Empire and then risks his own life to warn the Batch about Hemlock. Season 3 is where we see his loyalty shine even more.

Hunter does not trust Crosshair the way Wrecker does. Even Echo is more or less chill about Cross' return. But Hunter is still very hurt and confused about the whole thing. He doesn't fully understand why Crosshair betrayed the Empire. So, he engages in verbal sparring with his brother, determined to get answers. And Crosshair gets angry; he clamps up and begins to berate Hunter, specifically about how he failed at protecting Omega and all that. But when Hunter's life is thrown into danger by the wyrm, Crosshair doesn't hesitate one bit to rescue him. He cries out for Hunter, desperately trying to get him out of the hole he fell down. Afterwards, Crosshair even becomes willing to open up to Hunter and admits he was wrong about many things. Again, it's that steadfast loyalty and love for his family. The Empire betrayed Crosshair and he didn't look back. Crosshair felt betrayed by the Batch, yet he did look back and wanted to be with them. I also want to point out that Crosshair's hand began to shake when Hunter called him out for turning against them. I do believe the tremor is partially a result from Crosshair's shame and guilt about what happened.

I do think Crosshair's personality is also part of the reason why he didn't go back at the end of season 1. He wasn't ready yet. Crosshair is prideful and very stubborn. If he goes back, it would have to be his choice. He still cares for the Batch and always will, but he still had a lot to learn. Some people, unfortunately, won't learn until they're pushed to their limit and that's what happened to Crosshair. He learned that the loyalty he thought the Empire showed him was actually just an illusion. Meanwhile, the loyalty and love for his family remained. Omega fought so hard to bring him home. Hunter and Wrecker took him back, even if there's still much to work through. Echo accepted him back. They still cared for him.

TLDR: Crosshair follows those who're loyal to him. When he finds someone he's loyal to, he gives them his all. Crosshair loves and cares so fiercely and deeply. He talks a great game, but that man will protect you regardless.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb analysis

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prolix-yuy · 10 months

Note

Helllo!! I’m so excited for your bangathon! I love your work so much! I can’t wait to read the drabbles!

I did spin the wheel and got the mermaid position. I was having a hard time deciding which boy to pick but I can see Frankie and his wife trying a new position to spice things up. I can see it being equal parts silly and sexy. 😂😂

Thank you so much!

Oh my god, you need to know that this exact position in this exact circumstance is EXACTLY why I wanted to do the bangathon in the first place!

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Wife Reader

Position: Mermaid

Word Count: 804

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, PiV sex, allusion to cumming on someone, so much silliness.

Notes: I love silliness in sex, and this was a perfect excuse to play with that. Plus Frankie can use a little lighthearted fun!

“Are you sure this is how it works?”

Frankie leans over to peer at the iPad propped up on the table next to you, which only tips you back into giggles as he squints with his mouth half-open.

“Your glasses are…”

“I can see it.”

You swallow back another laugh as Frankie helps scoot you a little closer to the edge of the dining room table, the only available surface that lines you and your husband up just right. He’s already snug inside your welcoming cunt, stomach twitching against the back of your thighs every time you feel another giggle threaten to take over.

“Okay, then we do this…” he murmurs, bringing your legs up against his chest so your ankles frame his flushed face.

“And it’s called the mermaid?” you ask, flat on your back in a way that pulls your hamstrings taught. It’s a little bit of a strain on your calves, nothing you can’t handle. Frankie’s attention comes back to you, broad shoulders firm under your heels. He strokes those big hands you love up your legs, a steady pull out and press back in testing the position.

“Maybe this is your tail?” he says, a boyish smile crinkling his eyes.

“Best fish you ever caught,” you shoot back, arching your back a little to look more alluring.

“Only one in the sea for me,” he replies, pressing a kiss to your ankle. The playful groan changes to a real one as Frankie begins a firm pace, the creak of the kitchen table growing louder as he rocks into you.

It’s…not bad. There were other positions you liked better in your quest to knock out the kama sutra. It’s just sort of…dull. Your mind wanders, admiring your husband’s dewy skin, the line of a farmer’s tan faint along his bicep. The way his curls bounce as he pants, eyes roaming your curves before making it back to your face. When your eyes meet his gaze sharpens.

“Not doing much for you?” he asks, slowing to a stop and stroking long paths up and down your thighs. You chew the inside of your cheek, contemplating.

“If I knew I was going to be looking at my feet so much, I would have gotten a pedicure.”

Frankie’s eyebrows shoot right up into those gorgeous curls, then his whole face scrunches up as he snorts and laughs into your calf. You tumble over with him, egging each other on until the laughter is uncontrollable and you’re both out of breath and half-crying.

“My god, woman, you’re going to kill me with that mouth of yours,” Frankie gasps, leaning back to catch his breath.

“But really, come on, why would you put the least attractive part of my body right next to my favorite part of yours?” you say, your heart fluttering when Frankie’s smile softens.

“I like your feet, they’re cute,” he rebuts, placing a too-ticklish kiss right in the arch to makes you squeal.

“I like you, you’re cute,” you reply, and the laughter smooths and melts into the glow of love that always seems to surround Frankie when he looks at you. You could live in his adoration for the rest of your life.

“Okay, I saw another version, let’s try that,” Frankie finally says, shifting your legs so both are pressed against the same shoulder. Pressing your thighs together, Frankie’s hand splays across your stomach, thumb sliding into the slick folds of your pussy. Caressing your clit, he plants his other hand and bends forward just enough to start bringing your knees to your chest. Another circle of his thumb and your body zings with arousal.

“Oh,” you gasp, hands scrabbling to clutch at his bulging biceps.

“There?”

“Yeah, there.”

“That’s good?”

“Fuck, yes, Frankie.”

Frankie’s pace speeds up, rocking his hips into the spot he’s mapped in every way you’ll let him take you. His thumb presses firmer in, rough pad dipping into the slick and smearing your clit into greater and greater pleasure. Tossing your head back, you let every noise spill from your chest, Frankie’s half-growls and panted praise your reward. The kitchen table protests but neither of you pay it mind, especially when a gush of your arousal drives Frankie to pound into you, the perfect roughness and power to topple you over the edge with his name tearing from your lips.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful,” he groans, pulling out once your aftershocks subside. He rounds the other side of the table, cock and fingers milky with your cum. You tilt your chin to accept the ravenous kiss, limbs splayed and weak against the hardwood.

“Gonna give this mermaid a pearl necklace?” you ask, his thumb rubbing along your swollen lips.

“God, I love you, baby,” he husks. You smile up at him.

“Love you too.”

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

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wordywarriorwrites · 8 months

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Burning Hearts

Burning Hearts | A03 | Master List | Rating: M

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: Frankie gave you up for all the right reasons, but he just can't seem to let you go...

Pairing: Frankie Morales X F! Reader, Triple Frontier AU

Warnings: Language. Smut. Mentions of violence.

It’s well past last call, but the bartender pours Frankie another without him having to ask.

He knocks it back and chases the burn with a long drag off his cigarette. The combination of nicotine and booze gives him a pleasant buzz, but his favored tried-and-true vices bring him no relief.

All the club’s patrons shuffled out about an hour ago, but the staff carries on, seemingly content to remain open just to wait on him. Frankie knows they won’t cut him off or boot him out, but the need to maintain appearances, at least in public, prompts him to reach for his wallet.

He doesn’t pay for drinks – not at this particular watering hole – so, the Benjamin he slaps down on the counter is more for the speedy service and absence of questions than anything else. He stabs out his smoke, and when he gets to his feet, the peanut gallery on the peripheral of his pity party of one simply moves off to do other things.

An armed enforcer – especially a drunk one, out after hours and clearly spoiling for a fight – would prompt most people to run for cover, but the strippers are pros, and the guards don’t flinch easily. Plus, Frankie’s part owner, which means he can do whatever the fuck he wants, and what he wants, more than anything, is to see you.

So, he gives in to the urge.

He walks by the stage, tips the lone dancer for still bothering to put on a show, and salutes both the DJ and bouncer as he exits out the back. His driver is seated behind the wheel of his always-at-the-ready Bentley, and Frankie parks his ass on the supple, buttery leather of the backseat for the journey. By the time he reaches your estate, he’s sobered up a bit, answered all the texts he’s been ignoring, and pulverized about a half-dozen mints into the grooves of his molars.

The security guys at the gate know who he is. They take pity on him, allowing his vehicle to pass and continue on up the winding driveway. As the car crests the small hill, Frankie’s eyes sweep over the acreage, taking note of the tables and chairs set up on the grass. There are also at least a dozen catering trucks and twice as many hands, all busily taking apart centerpieces, pushing overflowing bins of linens, packing away decorations, and breaking down a podium, dance floor, and sound system.

There are other armed guards – way more than usual, in fact. Vested bodies dressed in black, with their intimidating visages dispersed in strategic places along the peripheral and in blind spots. Frankie isn’t nervous; he knows they’re on the job, and he doesn’t intend to do anything that would spur them or their semi-automatics into action.

Foregoing the bell, he uses the knocker, allowing the old, iron lionhead to wallop against the mahogany front door. Your head of security, Will Miller, answers promptly, weapon drawn and ready for action. He’s young and a bit tetchy, but he’s got sharp eyes and knows how to handle himself. Will’s been by your side for years and takes his job very seriously, and though Frankie would never admit it aloud, he’s relieved the guy is ready and able to protect you with unhesitating ruthlessness.

“Morales,” Will greets tersely. “State your business.”

“I just wanna see her,” Frankie replies without preamble.

He scoffs and curls his upper lip, but before he can reply with something undoubtedly and deservedly curt, your voice lilts through air.

“William?” you call out. “Who is it?”

It’s clear by Will’s thunderous expression that Frankie’s unexpected arrival has caused a disruption of the regularly scheduled programming. He’s positive the guy is just itching to plug him, but that doesn’t happen. Instead of being pumped full of lead, a quiet exchange between you and Will takes place, ending with him re-holstering his weapon and you graciously inviting Frankie inside.

The polonaise runner just beyond the threshold guides Frankie into the foyer, the hardwood floor beneath it polished to a high shine and positively gleaming under the soft light emitting from the chandelier hanging overhead. The ornate mirror situated above the marble console in the entryway reveals his slumped profile and wrinkled suit, and Will’s unimpressed sneer is all it takes to get him to straighten his tie and square his shoulders.

Will resets the alarm, and takes your slight nod and murmured thanks for the polite dismissal it is. Once he’s gone, you motion for Frankie to follow you, traversing a familiar path toward the kitchen. He clocks the sway of your hips as he trails behind, paying no mind to the cleaning crew who stops mid-task to hurriedly make themselves scarce. The chef and small army of assistants packing up leftovers and scrubbing the hell out of cookware are just as respectful, filing out in a silent, quick procession.

The two of you are alone, so, you play hostess, going for the fridge and emerging with a bottle of Voss in hand. After placing it on the island within his reach, you move off, and the physical distance between you isn’t lost on him. It hurts, but affords Frankie the opportunity to take you in. Louboutin heels. Trendy cocktail dress with a modest hem length and neckline. Tasteful jewelry, light make-up, and hair pinned back in an elegant twist.

You’re straight-up class. And so far beyond his reach.

You – blue-blooded and born into generational wealth. Him – a nobody from nowhere. Your name commands respect. His incites fear. You’re an admired, contributing member of the community, full of kindness, and always willing to help. He’s a trigger man, constantly on the precipice of chaos, dragging around a sordid reputation, and always ready to run.

You’re the real deal. You’ve got the pedigree that demands a high-class match with someone important. Someone who doesn’t have a permanent target on his back. Someone safe, who doesn’t always have to fight, fuck, kill, or steal to keep what he’s got. And he knows – damn it, he knows he’s not worthy…

“Why are you here, Frankie?” you prompt gently.

Thoughts grinding to a halt and at a loss for the right words, he simply shrugs. The picture of patience, you remain silent, which is just as well. He knows he can’t keep doing this to himself or to you. He needs to do right by you. He needs stay the fuck away, but it’s always so much easier said than actually done.

In fact, it hasn’t been that long since he last saw you. A month, maybe? He wondered then, as he does now, if you’ve moved on because he certainly, obviously, hasn’t. And the thought of anyone else touching you? The mere idea of you with another? Someone who could be part of your world, whose mere presence wouldn’t put your life at risk? It makes Frankie reexamine both you and his surroundings with a more observant, suspicious gaze.

Beyond the obvious chaos of a messy kitchen is a small chef’s table, and on the surface, a half-eaten chartreuse board and an open bottle of Merlot. Two pieces of stemware; one stained with lipstick matching your shade, and the other, blemished by the remaining inch of red at the bottom. The lingering stench of a cigar. The presence of your favorite handbag on the chair.

What he perceives amounts to nothing more than a collection of assumptive, so-called evidence that fits the wild narrative in his mind. Still, Frankie seethes with jealousy. Mind and body all tilt-o-whirl, he snarls – deep and nasty, like he’s some sort of fucking animal protecting his territory, but you don’t balk. Instead, you reach for your clutch, pop the clasp, and fish out what looks like a folded piece of paper.

“The charity fundraiser was this evening, remember?” you explain without any guilt or guile. “Pope asked for a private audience after. Apparently, I forgot to rescind his invitation.”

Frankie runs the pad of his thumb over his lower lip, eyes narrowing at the nondescript check you slide across the island’s countertop. Temper unjustifiably flared and now subsequently doused, he snatches up the proffered bottle of water, uncaps it, and forces gulps past the fist-sized lump in his throat.

Fuckin’ Pope. When it comes to making money, he’s merciless, indiscriminate, and not one to let personal feelings get in the way of business dealings. Of course, he’d want to rub elbows with your people. His presence at your soiree, along with Will’s trigger-happy mood, and all the extra staff and guards? It makes complete sense.

But a one-on-one so late afterward? It must’ve been important – something urgent that couldn’t be spoken of in mixed company or discussed over the phone. There are only so many things a man like Pope and a woman like you would have to talk about. Last Frankie knew, the police were still sniffing around, and the lawyer you have on retainer is having a fucking field day, but the heat isn’t bad enough to warrant a face-to-face.

Then again, maybe Pope sought you out for personal reasons and professional gains. Pairing up with the big Boss would guarantee your continued safety and silence a lot of wagging tongues. Your connections would also open up a plethora of new revenue streams, providing Pope with unfettered access to some very deep pockets. Shit, Frankie can practically hear Pope listing the mutual benefits, spinning the rationale of it all, and it makes him feel sick.

Sick and absolutely fucking murderous.

You’re an honest, good woman. All that forthrightness and decency – it’s right there, in your beguiling, steady gaze. And you’re not stupid. In fact, you’re too damn smart for your own good, and the thought of you putting yourself at risk makes Frankie itchy all over. You’re so disarmingly calm, while he’s barely fucking holding it together, and damn it, he has to know for sure…

“Did Pope –” Frankie croaks, scraping a hand through his hair. “Did he ask you to do something for him? Or want to take you out on like, a date, or whatever?”

Lips parting in shock, you blink as if taken aback, and that’s answer enough. Relief buoys and deflates him, and Frankie downplays his seesawing emotions and outlandish, self-sabotaging thoughts by moving over to the table and busying his hands. He pokes at the slices of baguette and the cubes of gourmet cheese. Feigns interest in the thinly sliced prosciutto. Tilts the wine bottle to glance at the label.

None of it interests him because the only thing Frankie’s interested in is you. He gave you up for all right reasons, but still, the feelings you stir inside of him, and the white-hot desire he has for you – they’ll never go away. They roll through him now, stronger than ever; dark possessiveness and furious agony punching him in the gut and pulsing between his legs and clawing at his already tender, bleeding heart.

Frankie met you while scouting some swanky restaurant ripe for poaching, and after cajoling you into abandoning a dinner party, he somehow talked you into drinks, and then, seduced you into his bed. What should’ve been an amazing one-night stand morphed into eight months that quite literally rocked his world. Your acceptance of who he is, your ability to compartmentalize, the way you simply fit in and adapted to his extremely fucked up reality – hell, if the shoe were on the other foot, Frankie’s not sure he could’ve risen to the occasion or withstood it.

What he’s found and experienced with you – it’s fucking lightning in a bottle. Insane, magical, incomprehensible. It never happens for guys like him because guys like him don’t get the girl or the happily-ever-after. Too good to be true? Maybe. Was he in too deep? Absolutely. But it didn’t matter if you were ignorant or a willing participant – it was dangerous either way.

And Pope’s not just the Boss – he’s Frankie’s best friend. His brother. And Frankie’s a loyal soldier – has been since the two of them were in diapers. Yes, he’s in love with you, and if you moved on, he’d get over it eventually. Someday. Maybe. But if you moved on with Pope? He wouldn’t – couldn’t – survive that. And because he’s a fucking glutton for punishment, he has to ask the million-dollar question.

“What if he wanted to?” Frankie asks, pressing his thumb into what he believes is a hunk of Parmesan Reggiano and mashing it flat. “Would you consider it?”

“Consider what?” you wonder.

“Being with him?”

A sharp breath. A ragged exhale. Your lower lip trembles before it gets bitten into submission by your teeth, and when you meet his gaze, he sees his own pain reflected back at him a thousand times over.

You tell him to leave, heels tap-tap-tapping as you hastily move for the intercom system, voice clipped and cold as you inform him a maid will see him out. He hasn’t just offended you; he’s hurt you, again, but a halting hand on your waist and a fervently whispered apology keeps you from the call button.

Frankie knows he’s got no fucking right – no right to question you or touch you, and certainly no right to step forward when you step back. He’s got no right to dig his fingers into your hip or press you up against the pantry door or burrow his nose against the crown of your head and slowly, greedily inhale.

“I’d fuckin’ kill him,” he growls. “If he ever – I swear, I’d fucking rip his throat out.”

You place your hand over his, and your touch is so soothing, immediately calming his too-hot temper like top-shelf whiskey. Your index finger ghosts over his knuckle tattoos. Ink that means nothing to outsiders, but showcases to anyone who knows his world just how dangerous he is. It’s the hand he uses to dispense justice; it’s scarred, tainted and stained with blood, yet, you touch it with such reverence, such fearlessness…

Frankie closes his eyes and rolls his jaw, “I shouldn’t have – I didn’t mean –”

“I wouldn’t,” you interject, words weighted and insistent. “Not ever.”

“You don’t – shit, you don’t need to tell me that,” he insists, shaking his head at his own uncouth stupidity. “Besides, it’s none of my business. And you’re right – I should go. I should go and stay gone.”

You let out a soft, contrary sound, “You shouldn’t have left.”

He swallows hard. You turn your head. Then, your nose and cheek are brushing against his jaw in a gesture of affection that settles something inside of him that’s too feral to define. Your palms gliding up his arms, along his shoulders, and down the expanse of his chest – it pulls him back from the ledge he’s been tiptoeing along since the day he said goodbye to you.

Frankie meets your eyes. Cups your cheek. Allows his thumb to caress your soft skin. You say nothing, but you look at him as if he’s the only one – as if there could never be another – and he wonders if you can tell that he feels the same way.

“I love you, Frankie,” you assert. “It’s always going to be you.”

“Cariño…” he sighs against your temple.

You’re braver – so much braver than he’ll ever be – and you’re the one who gives into it. You press your lips to the scruff covering his chin, and that gentle, achingly familiar prelude to a kiss destroys his already too-flimsy resolve. Frankie is the one surrendering to you, but you’re the one who yields to him, tilting your head back and opening up to his eager mouth.

He dreamt of you every night. Woke up every day to cold sheets. Had been unable to throw away your toothbrush or part with the half-full bottle of your shampoo. Was unwilling to change the lock screen on his phone from a picture of you to something less painful to look at. He couldn’t delete the playlist you made for him or stop buying the books you put in his Amazon cart. Your favorite fuzzy socks are still in his top drawer, tucked safely next to the pristinely folded, ridiculously threadbare boyband t-shirt you’ve had since you were a teenager.

You have no idea what you do to him. No clue about the kind of hell he’d raise for you, the bodies he’d put in the ground, the lives he’d destroy – all for you. He can’t explain it, not in words, so, he coveys it with his body. Seeking the taste of you with his tongue and searching for your skin with his hands. Sliding his thigh between your legs and rocking into you because he just wants to be close – he just wants to feel you, to lose himself inside of you, to make you smile at him again.

“Upstairs,” you whisper into his ear. “Come upstairs with me, Frankie.”

Powerless to resist, he follows you to the privacy of your room, located on the second floor at the very end of the hall. Jacket, belt, tie – you divest him of his modern-day armor, letting the pieces fall like petals leading up the path to the altar that is your California King-sized bed. Frankie’s shoulder holster is last, and once he’s placed his gun safely on the nightstand, you begin frantically working apart the buttons on his shirt.

“Love you, cariño,” he pants as he yanks his arms free of the sleeves. “I love you so goddamn much.”

You kick off your heels before giving him your back, “Show me.”

Frankie lowers the zipper on your dress. Pushes at the straps. Watches the inky, supple material slip and slide off your figure. You work your panties down, ass teasingly meeting his crotch as you push the delicate silk and lace past your garter belt. Then, you ease down onto the bed, back hitting the downy comforter with a soft thud.

He’s palming himself through his pants, trying to decide where to start, and your thighs parting in invitation help him make up his mind. He kneels. Hooks his arms around your calves. Yanks you forward until your ass is practically hanging off the mattress. You let out a peal of laughter, and he grins up at you rather dopily as he hitches your legs over his shoulders.

“This okay?” he breathes against your calve.

You touch the tip of your tongue to your upper lip and nod, “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Are you?”

It’s impossible to miss the vulnerability and doubt in your eyes. Frankie knows he wasn’t the only one brokenhearted and that his mistakes hurt you both. An apology seems so inadequate, but he says it anyway, listing the litany of ways he intends to make it up to you, but only if you’ll allow it.

You cup his face and let out a sigh, “I just want you. That’s all.”

Frankie nods. Presses a kiss to your palm. Allows his lips and tongue to trace a path up your thighs, canines sinking into supple flesh along the way. He seeks the center of you with a parched tongue and fingers longing to touch, and when he reaches his destination, you cry out for him.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, suckling your clit and dipping his tongue inside for a taste. “Let me take care of you, cariño. Just let go for me, yeah?”

Your left breast – plump, soft, and encased in silk – spills free when he yanks the cup of your bra down. Frankie pinches the hardened peak of your nipple, and you arch into his caress, clamping down on his fingers and writhing all over his face. You’re lost to it, just like he is, and when you come against his mouth, it’s indescribably beautiful.

“I need you,” you declare fervently. “Need you inside me, Frankie.”

He doesn’t heed your call until he makes you come again. When he does get to his feet, you’re boneless, but still, you sit up and reach for him. As soon as he’s popped the button on his pants and worked the zipper down, your hands are there, tugging at his boxers. You take him out and wrap your fingers around him, nice and snug, just how he likes. He’s leaking like a goddamn faucet, unable to stop his hips from pumping into your firm hold, and he has to put a halt to your teasing or risk coming in your hand.

His boxers and pants are in a tangle over his shoes, but he manages to kick everything off and crawl into the soft pile of blankets and pillows after you. Frankie peels off your stockings. Winds your silky-smooth, bare legs around his waist. He kisses you, teasing you and bumping your clit with his hard length until you beg him for it.

He lines up. Pushes in. And then, it’s paradise – pure and true.

You twine your arms over his shoulders, pulling him down into the cradle of your embrace until he’s practically smothering you. Forearms braced on either side of your head and face buried into the crook of your neck, Frankie eases back and slowly thrusts forward to the hilt with a roll of his hips. You meet him halfway, tilting your pelvis up and bearing down, engulfing him in a fist-tight wetness that forces him to work for every deep stroke.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, cariño,” he groans, smearing his lips along the hinge of your jaw. Frankie puts more effort and weight behind each thrust, hitting deep and keeping a firm, steady pace that he knows gets you off. “Did you miss this? Miss me?”

You mewl. Nod frantically. Forehead pressed to yours, he reaches for the bend of your knee and loops your leg over the crook of his elbow so he can put his back into it. Driving and grinding into you possessively, gaze fixated on yours, flitting between nipping at the tops of your breasts and licking into your mouth and sucking at the pulse point of your neck.

“N-no more,” you stutter, biting into the meat of his shoulder. “No more running, Frankie.”

Frankie nods and snaps his hips forward, “No more running.”

The promise is sealed with another kiss, and when you come for him again, Frankie loses what little finesse he still possesses. You encourage his rutting, whispering in his ear that you want it, that you need him to come inside you. And you’re so wet, he can hear it – how turned on you are, how good he makes you feel, and it’s so good – so goddamned good – that when he comes, his vision dims and all the noise in his head goes silent.

Save for your mingled, harsh breaths, it’s quiet. Peaceful. You welcome his weight on top of you, holding him, scratching at his scalp and kissing his forehead and running your hands up and down his spine. Affection, freely given, without any expectation or ulterior motive behind it. It reminds him of what he almost lost, and he vows to himself that he’ll never let you go again.

Frankie looks up at you with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, “What did Pope actually want?”

“He begged me to take you back,” you reply, letting out an amused sound as you trace a fingertip over the shell of his ear. “Said he’d donate ten thousand dollars if I did.”

“Is that so? And what did you say?”

“I told him it wasn’t my decision. Then, he upped the offer to twenty, so, I said I’d think about it.”

Frankie snorts and squeezes your waist, “Oh, I bet he hated that.”

“Well, you’ve apparently been a real pain in his ass lately,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug. “So, I told him to donate fifty, and that I’d call him when you came to your senses.”

He laughs – full-bodied and freely. He kisses you – proud of the hard bargain you drove. And once Frankie’s tucked into bed beside you, absorbing your warmth into his cold bones, he makes a mental note to thank Pope for his meddling in the morning.

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