Your Fiyero | Fiyero Tigelaar X Reader

summary — life gets a little more complicated when your son befriends a kid whose father seems to hate your guts.

pairing — dad!yoongi x mom!reader

genre — angst, fluff

warning — there may be grammar mistakes, sometimes I unconsciously omit words

a.n. — hello, im back with a new story, hopefully this would be better. let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :)

thank you for reading xx

introduction: A and B | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen | sixteen | seventeen | eighteen | nineteen | twenty | twenty one | twenty two | twenty three | twenty four | twenty five | twenty six | twenty seven | twenty eight | twenty nine | thirty | thirty one | thirty two | thirty three | thirty four | thirty five | thirty six | thirty seven | thirty eight | thirty nine | forty | forty one | forty two (I) | forty two (II) | forty three (the end) | epilogue | extra.

desperation

fandom: monsta x member/reader: minhyuk , female genre/warning(s): smut, college!minhyuk, idk jealous smut?, face riding length: 3K+ summary: [request] in which some girl flirts with minhyuk and you get jealous. please see full request at the end a/n: hello, it’s been awhile. i’ve lost motivation, but thank god for biases, eh?

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his first handjob

soft smut

y.j.g + fem!reader

a/n : some people are NOT going to like this but if you don’t feel comfortable reading this, PLEASE do not read and DON’T INTERACT. I write for those who want to read this, and yes, Jeongin is old enough for smut, so please, if you don’t see him in any sexual way, just avoid this. thank you.

Jeongin’s eyes sparkled as he watched an intense scene on the laptop as you both watched a movie. Maybe he wasn’t experienced, but what’s so wrong seeing two people making out? Why’d he look away? Could it be because you were there with him?

You paused the movie.

“Jeongin, why did you look away?”

“I don’t know” he chuckled, turning to you. His ears were burning red along with his cheeks. Oh my gosh, he’s so shy.

“Is it because you’re shy, flustered, or is it because I’m here?” 

He swallowed thickly as he looked down at his lap, trying to think of an answer. One half of him told him to lie, pretend that he’s just not comfortable, while the other half of him told him to go ahead and tell you the truth. He was thinking carefully because once he has decided, there will be no turning back.

“Everything that you’ve mentioned” he blurted out, slapping himself in his head for saying what he really didn’t want to say. Or did he? The need was too agonizing after all.

Your eyes widened and you smiled, taking his hand in yours. It was bigger so yours fit just perfectly. Jeongin’s eyes turned to the intertwined hands, then, to your eyes.

“Listen… I know you’re not experienced. Do you want me to change that?”

He blinks “But are you ready?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t go straight to hopping on you. I will just help you with your frustration this time. How does that sound?” you bit your lip shyly, not noticing how your palm was already laid on his soft thigh.

Jeongin hesitated for a bit but accepted your offer and nodded, receiving a loving kiss from you.

You pushed the laptop further to the end of the bed and laid on your side, wrapping your leg around Jeongin’s. He watched each and every move of yours carefully, his hands shaking and eyes watering at the thought of experiencing something that his hormones were wilding for.

Slowly, but with desire, you untied the laces of his sweatpants, pulling them down as Jeongin lifted his hips. Planting kisses just above his boxers you heard his inhale sharply, and you looked over to make sure you can keep going. Jeongin nodded and you nodded back at him, continuing to rile him up.

Palming him through the boxers you massaged it a bit, pulling his underwear down carefully to expose his semi-hard length. Jeongin looked so cute yet so concentrated, you couldn’t help but smile at the way both excitement and need showed on his face.

You took his shaft in your hand and spread the pre-cum all over the tip and a bit under it, small whimpers escaping his mouth as you touched him mildly. While massaging his length, you lifted yourself up and propped yourself on your elbow, leaning in to kiss Jeongin. He moaned in your mouth and cupped your face gently, adding tongue to the lustful kiss.

“Can you go faster?” he suddenly pleaded, staring right into your glistening eyes. You hummed a yes and circled your wrist faster, adoring how Jeongin frowned, his lips parted and his lip was drawn in between his teeth. He looked so beautiful, you wondered why he has never asked you to do this to help him. Gosh, Jeongin being shy is the sweetest thing.

His hips shook and hands gripped on the bedsheets when he caught his high. And to be fair, Jeongin sounded so nice moaning your name, it made you want to hear that non-stop. The way he moaned was adorable yet hot, melodious and memorable.

You kissed him again “How was it?”

“It… It was very good. Thank you” his cheeks reddened as he smiled and it made you giggle.

“You’re the cutest”

𝕷𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart,

But the very next day, you gave it away.

With lockdown keeping them in on Christmas, a member of the Kira Task Force wonders how they will return to their inconvenient significant other. 

Word Count: 5236

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*

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double down

pairing. eddie munson x female! reader 

an. well. we’re here again. this acts as a part two to my fic dealer’s choice, but can be read separately (tho honestly why would u want to) i don’t know what came over me when writing this, jesus. comments and reblogs make me insane so pls do it<3 synopsis. after a sexually charged run in with your dealer, you go to his house for another hook up. he’s got the goods. 

warnings. 18+. minors (below 18) are not welcome. drugs, sex while high, fondling, kissing, female receiving oral, lil bit of biting, grinding against rings, female receiving penetration. not beta’d. 

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tattooed heart | biker!austin butler x reader

summary: austin is the club president of a local outlaw biker gang- a one percenter. he lies, he kills and he doesn't apologize for it. he was one weakness- you. when he gets a distressed late night call from you he's quick to come to your rescue. the only problem? your own father was in the same motorcycle club that austin now runs, and after his death you cut all contact. when you two see each other again emotions run high and things get. . . a little out of control.

pairings: biker!austin butler x reader

word count: 12,074

warnings/notes: SMUT! violence, brief mention of dv (your ex), cursing, spitting, choking, blood play, unprotected sex, creampie, austin is obsessed with you, but what’s new? this one is wild and i might have to make it a series if ya'll like it enough, so feedback would be awesome.

masterlist

“That’s why you’re the treasurer, Marcus. You don’t run jack shit around here. You crunch the numbers, give them to me, and that’s what I go off of. That’s the definition of your job around here.” Austin sat up a little straighter in his leather work chair, jabbing his finger into the desk hard enough to rattle it as he spoke. “I don’t need you getting all high and mighty, trying to take charge of things. Xavier let all of you fuckers do whatever the hell you wanted while I was locked up, but I’m back now, so things are going back to the way they were.” All Austin wanted to do was go home and shower. It was nearly one in the morning, and he had barely gotten a wink of sleep over the last three days. The blonde had expected the Vice President to keep up with all of the prospects, club funds, and the general upkeep of the building as well as it’s members. It wasn’t too much to ask, right? Not when you were getting paid handsomely for it. Austin continued to run the more illegal practices himself while he rotted away in prison for two years, not trusting anyone else to do it. This- the mess on his desk- was the exact reason why he didn’t trust anyone. 

Marcus swallowed thickly, watching his boss nervously, as though he was a ticking time-bomb just waiting to go off. And maybe Austin was. He felt like it was only a matter of time before he absolutely flipped shit and destroyed either something or someone. No one had been keeping up with anything while he was gone. Austin had continued flowing money into this place, while all they did with it was buy booze, women, and lord knows what else. The building was an absolute wreck. There were holes in the walls, half of the toilets in the entire building no longer worked, and to make matters worse an enemy Club had broken into their garage two months ago and had stolen three of Austin’s classic bikes while he was still away. No one had the balls to call him up and tell him. 

What a nice fucking welcome home present. 

“If I come back here tomorrow and these papers aren’t dated and filed when I get back? I’ll have your fucking head,” He stood up roughly, leaning forward so that he could get right in Marcus’s face. “Are we clear?” His voice was eerily calm, using the same tone that he would when speaking to a child. The middle aged bald man hurriedly nodded, fumbling forward so that he could start scooping up the mass of papers. Austin kicked the leather chair he had just stood up from, hearing it clatter into the wall roughly behind him. “And fucking fix whatever the hell I just broke.” He muttered before walking out his office door. A few members were still hanging around, laughing amongst themselves as they sat around a poker table talking. The dumb assholes had the audacity to have their feet kicked up on the table, drinking Jack Daniel’s and shooting the shit as though they hadn’t absolutely destroyed the place. Austin’s eye twitched as he walked behind the bar, grabbing a fresh pack of Marlboros before sauntering over towards them. “What’s so funny guys?” They froze as they heard their President’s voice, all looking up at him with fearful, glassy eyes. “No, don’t quiet down now. I want to know what’s so fucking funny.” Austin had been out of prison for all of three days. The first two days he had tried to readjust to normal life, and today he was expecting to come back to the club, maybe fix a few things that were out of place, and then go about business as usual. 

He could barely sleep in his bed, now completely unused to a regular mattress, which had made it nearly impossible to keep his already ridiculous anger issues under control. Not only that, but he no longer had a bitch-boy bunkie to boss around and wannabe gangsters to treat as punching bags whenever he needed to let off some steam. Then he comes back to this? He was shaking, his sharp jawline ticking as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. He could barely resist the urge to bash the new member’s face into the table until the fuck stopped twitching. 

“You know what. . .” Austin grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He began wagging pointer finger at the group, all of them already shifting in their seats as they waited for the shit show that was bound to start any second. “I think I know what’s funny.” Austin grabbed an empty bottle of whiskey, lazily dragging it across the table before gripping it in his large hand. He stared down at the label for a few seconds, taking a steadying breath in through his nose before he finally looked back at the table. They flinched away from his heated gaze, the older member’s beginning to cower as they recognized the murderous intent in his eyes. “It’s how fucking disgusting this place is!” He reared back and tossed the glass against the wall behind them, the thing hitting the wooden surface so hard that it practically turned to dust. They all covered their heads, pushing their way out of their seats in an attempt to get away. “If you boys want to stay here and drink for the rest of the night, then by all means. Do it. But clean this place up first!” He stalked across the club, slamming the front door closed so hard that it shook the hinges, before straddling his Harley. 

The long drive home did wonders for his mood, but riding always did that for him. The cold air forced his hair off of his forehead and felt good against his hot face. Austin used the time that it took him to get from the club to his house to think. 

He never used to be the type of person to overthink. If something upset him, he’d try his damndest to push it from his mind completely. If the unwanted thought ever bubbled back up to the surface, he’d punch something and move on with his day. He didn’t like wasting time worrying about things that were out of his control. 

But he liked to worry about you. 

In the thirty minutes that it had taken for him to get home, somehow his mind had landed on the subject of. . . well. . . you. He wondered where you were, how you were doing, and for a second he worried about whether or not you had learned to hate him over time. Austin knew that he wasn’t a very well liked person, and for good reason. People either feared him or were taught to. It was how he had functioned his entire life. How he had been raised. Lying, stealing, and killing were just a way of life for him. A means to an end, really. He had learned it from his father, and his father had learned it from his. 

Austin came from a long line of outlaws. They did whatever the fuck they wanted and never apologized for it. You join the Club knowing that there is a possibility that you might not make it out alive. Only the strong survive, and Austin had been bred to be mean because of it. Your father had been the same way. The two of your parents had grown up together, and had both been the leaders of the very same Club that Austin now ran. 

You had been raised up right alongside him, and to say that he didn’t have a soft spot for you would be a damn lie. Austin had one weakness, and that was you. He hated feeling vulnerable. He absolutely couldn’t stand it, but he never could shake you, no matter how hard he had tried growing up. You had hollowed out his bones, and sunk deep deep deep into his marrow. You were just as much a part of him as his own flesh and blood. 

You weren’t cut out for the life that you had been born into though. All that senseless killing always got to you. It got to you bad. This wasn’t what you would have chosen for yourself- The One Percenters. You were tired of keeping your distance from people on the outside, too afraid to get them caught up in all the wrong things. You wanted a normal life. You had wanted to get out. Once you're in the club though, even if you’re born into it, it’s hard to leave. Your father had been the Vice President, meaning you had heard just about all of the comings and goings of the Clubs activities. Having you out of sight was a liability. Austin didn’t know what it meant to live a normal life, but he could understand the attachment you had to the idea. He could imagine that sort of life for himself too, but only if you were involved. There was no point if you weren’t. 

Loving you was the only good thing Austin had ever done in his life. 

Whenever your father died, he knew what would happen. He knew that the door to your cage had been busted wide open, and it was only natural for you to want to fly out. He didn’t harbor any anger towards you for it. It was the way that you had chosen to go about it that upset him so much. 

He wished you would have at least left a note. 

If you were going to disappear, then that meant that you had to disappear for good. That meant that Austin, who was next in line to take his father’s place, had to go. No call, no text, and no warning. He hadn’t even gotten a proper goodbye. One second he was holding your sobbing form at the funeral, and the next second you were gone. It was almost like your old life meant nothing to you at all. Like Austin meant nothing at all. It had crushed him. Totally and utterly devastated him. It was the kind of hurt that you never got over, no matter how many years passed. Time didn’t heal all wounds. You had taken a big piece of him with you, and it was a part of him that couldn’t heal over; couldn’t be replaced. 

Weeks went by. Then months. Then years. He didn’t know if you had moved out of state. He didn’t even know if you were alive. That was the part that kept him thinking. Kept him worried. The thought of you being hurt haunted his nightmares, and caused him to wake up the next morning teary eyed and shaky. He couldn’t protect you if he didn’t know where you were. He couldn’t keep you safe like he had when you were younger. Austin had spent nearly every day with you for twenty- two years. Trying to live without you was like learning how to walk again after losing a leg. It just. . . it was never the same. A day didn’t go by that he didn’t think about you. Austin stayed true to your wishes though, even in his own grief. He didn’t look for you, and if anyone asked him if he knew where you were he’d merely say that you were off studying abroad. He’d lied about having tabs on you. 

So here he was five years later, still thinking about a girl that couldn’t care less about him. Austin didn’t have the ability to open up his heart anymore than he already had. It just wasn’t big enough. Every fiber- every inch: you owned it. You had him in the palm of your hand, and that’s where he’s always stayed. 

Becoming the Club President was the only thing he really could do, unless he wanted to incur his father’s wrath. So he maimed and he killed and he schemed his way to the top. 

But Icarus had flown to the sun on wax wings, and even he had eventually fallen. 

The murders continued to pile up, and no matter how careful he had been with everything, eventually he too had fallen from grace. Prison wasn’t too bad, not when you had seen and done the things that Austin had throughout his entire life. The first thing he had done was pick a fight with the biggest fucker in the place, and no one had messed with him after he had been sent back from The Hole. Sure, some of the men locked up in there were bigger than Austin was, but he didn’t need a shank to be tough. Austin was a mean motherfucker, and he wasn’t opposed to killing with his bare hands. He wasn’t afraid to get messy. He had spent two years like that, holed up in his room with people avoiding him like he was the plague. People who knew who he was began to talk, and the word quickly got out. He didn’t need to click up. Nobody approached him. 

He thought about you a lot while he was locked up. There was no way to escape those thoughts or numb the pain that they brought with them. No, instead he took the brunt of it all. He thought about all of the things he had said to you over the years that he had come to regret. The worst part were the things that he never did get the nerve to actually tell you. He wished that he had told you that he loved you, even just once. Even if you didn’t return the sentiment, then he could have at least gotten the chance to say that he had tried. He thought about what his life could have been like if he hadn’t followed his father’s lead. If you had stayed and had given him a reason to change, maybe then he wouldn’t be in these fucked up situations. 

Because the shittiest part is that Austin would have liked the opportunity to have lived a normal life with you. A life where he didn’t have to kill just to survive. A life that he could have actually been proud of. Sure, the money was great, but it wasn’t worth it. He would have been happy living in a boring suburban neighborhood in a boring little town, and driving a boring family car. He would have found a way to make it all work out. He could have given that all to you. He should have given that all to you. 

But life never turns out the way that you want it to. So he stewed in all that regret while he rotted away in prison. He had been told that he could very well spend the rest of his life there. People from enemy Clubs had heard about him being locked up, and took it as an opportunity to snitch. They rattled off name after name of people that had gone “missing”, stating that he was to blame. 

And he was. 

His lawyer had called him on a Thursday morning and told him that some mistakes had been made with his booking papers, and a lot of the witnesses were suddenly taking back their statements. The trial didn’t have a leg to stand on after that. Austin, after only two years, was a free man. 

But he didn’t feel free. Not really, at least. 

So when he got back to his house after the shit show with the Club, he had stalked right up the stairs and shut himself away in his room. The shower that he took was quick, purely habit as he scrubbed his body as quickly as he could. He barely even took the time to dry himself off, tossing his towel onto the floor next to the clothes hamper, and climbing straight into bed. Austin had rolled himself up in his old duvet and melted into his pillows, and for the first night in almost a week he actually fell asleep. He was a light sleeper though, so the second his phone started ringing he was up, wide eyed and reaching for the gun that he kept tucked in his bed frame. After his heart had stopped pounding from the initial panic, he picked up. “Hello?” He grumbled, rubbing his sleepy eyes roughly with the palm of his hand while he tried desperately to wake himself up. His members knew better than to wake him up this early over something that wasn’t an emergency. “This better be good. What fuckin’ time is it?” He squinted his eyes as he turned his head to look at the bedside table, trying hard to get the blurriness out of his vision as he focused on the digital numbers of his clock: 3:24. He hadn’t even been asleep for two hours. His lips parted, ready to lay into the person on the other line. Then he heard it. 

“Aus?” 

Your voice. It was your voice. 

The second that the sound of it reached his ears, he nearly doubled over. Austin had heard once before that a person’s voice is the first thing that you forget about a person as time goes on. For the first year he had been terrified that he might forget the gorgeous, unrestrained sound of your laughter or the lilting, melodic pitch to your voice. He had replayed memories over again and again in his head, hoping to hang on to the exact way you sounded, but over time he must have gotten it wrong. Your voice was far more beautiful than he remembered. 

He sat up in bed, quick to push the comforter off of himself so that he could get up. He couldn’t think of a single good reason why would be calling him after five years, and so late into the night. No matter how beautiful your voice was, he could hear the panic in your tone. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. His heart had flown into his throat, and he found it hard to walk as he stumbled around his room in the dark, trying to find a pair of pants. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he had to get to you right away. Everything would be alright if he could just see you. Touch you. He could hear you sniffling softly, tears in your voice as you softly said his name again, almost too quiet for him to hear. It felt like he was breaking. His hands shook as he struggled to pull his shirt over his head, quickly pressing the phone back up to his ear when he heard something loud echoing on the other end. “Talk to me, baby.” He murmured, opening the door to his bedroom so that he could take the stairs two at a time, rushing to grab his motorcycle boots that he had by the front door. “I need you to come get me.” You were whispering into the phone, trying to keep as quiet as possible. 

So you must not be alone. He held the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he tied his boots up, rushing to double knot them before grabbing his keys and wallet. “I-It’s bad.” That was too vague, and he was beginning to spiral into a panic. He was used to making sure that things went smoothly. Austin was an insanely capable person- but he felt helpless. “What’s bad?” He locked the door behind himself before jogging to the back of his house so that he could grab his bike out of the garage. He could hear your distress. “Y/n, please.” He begged after the sound of your sniffles began to get too much for him. His heart couldn’t take it. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t breathe now that he knew you were in possible danger. You didn’t answer him, and for a second he was afraid that you had hung up. He pulled the phone away from his cheek, letting out a breath of relief when he saw that the call was still active. “Alright, tell me where you are at least. I’m coming, okay?” You whispered an unfamiliar address to him, and he was quick to type it into his GPS. 

He nearly died when he saw the estimated arrival time. Nearly bent over and puked all over his beat up old boots. You had been right under his nose the entire time. Twenty seven minutes. He had been twenty seven minutes from you this entire goddamn time. “Stay where you are, alright? I’m coming to get you.” He didn’t hang up the phone, merely shoved it into his back pocket. He had a feeling that if he hung the phone up, he might never hear from you again. He had already lost you one time, he couldn’t do it again. Not after hearing the fear in your voice. 

Austin couldn’t remember a time that he had ever driven that fast before. If a cop had seen him, they didn’t even bother turning their lights on and trying to pursue. He was like a bullet being shot into the dark. Gone in a flash. He almost felt bad for your neighbors when he pulled into your driveway. He was quick to move his foot against the kickstand, swinging his long leg over the bike so that he could slowly begin approaching the house. All the blinds seemed to be closed, so he couldn’t see if there were any lights on inside. He dug into his back pocket, pressing the phone against his ear. “I think I’m here,” His eyebrow raised as he heard some rustling in the background, but nearly dropped his phone when you screamed. The man had wondered why he had been the one that you called tonight. You must have known the way that he had turned out. He was everything that you supposedly hated, and yet here he was. People didn’t call Austin for help unless they wanted their bike worked on or they needed someone dead.

Seeing as he didn’t see a motorcycle in the driveway, he was guessing it was the latter. 

Somebody was in there with you, and you were scared, hurt, dying- fuck, he had no clue what was going on. All he did know was that the front door was locked and he had to get to you. The One Percenters were moraless creatures who usually didn’t give a damn about anybody but their own families. The rules were simple, yet usually easy to work your way around. There was one thing that was sacred though. Never lay your hand on a woman. This was worse though. This was twenty times worse, because whether you knew it or not, you were Austin’s woman. This - whatever was happening in there - warranted death, and if anyone in the Club found out that Austin didn’t kill whatever cock sucker was inside of that house, they’d start to question who he was as a man. 

He didn’t remember kicking the door in. He didn’t hear the wood splintering or glass breaking. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the blood rushing in his ears. “Who the fuck is downstairs, Y/n? Huh? Who the fuck did you call?” Austin jogged up the stairs, and the second that he turned the corner he saw the fucker staring right at him. The blonde was quick to try and look around the other man’s shoulders, desperate to find you. He needed to make sure that you were alright first, and then he would decide what he would do. He had just gotten out of prison, and he didn’t want to go back any time soon. Killing the fucker was out of the question. Half of the neighborhood must have heard him break down the door, and he was sure that he had a time limit. The cops would pull up any second.

“Who the fuck are you?” Austin liked it when people tried to act tough. Your boyfriend must have thought that he actually stood some sort of a chance. 

Austin didn’t answer at first, just squared off his shoulders as he waited for you to come out of the room. He could see you in the shadows, trying to walk up to the door, but the other man was quick to hold out his arm, using his body to keep you trapped. That didn’t sit well with Austin. “Hey!” He screamed, blue eyes narrowed on the other man. “She’s coming with me.” For a second the other guy just stood there, his arm pressed against your chest as he kept you trapped in the room. 

“Are you fucking stupid? I’m not letting her go anywhere with you.” Austin had only gotten a quick glance of your face, what with the house being so dark, but he could see a bruise on your cheek. Whether it was fresh or old, he didn’t know. All he knew was that you had been hit. In the blink of an eye Austin had lunged forward, grabbing the man by the front of the shirt and ripping him out of the doorway. He used the man’s weight against him, tossing him onto the floor like a ragdoll before climbing over the fucker. He began bringing his tattooed fist down, connecting it with the other man’s face again and again. Your boyfriend must have hit his head during the fall, because he was too stunned to move for a few moments. Too stunned to fight back. He tried to buck Austin off of him, but the blonde was like a rabid animal. His eyes were wild, his breathing was erratic, and he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. 

He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this sort of thing in front of you though. He had to stop for your sake. Austin grabbed the man by the front of his shirt again, hearing the stitches beginning to pop with the strength of his hold as he yanked him up, wanting them to be face to face to get his point across. “If she wasn’t here right now I would fucking gut you. Do you understand?” Austin had popped blood vessels in both of the man’s eyes, and he could tell that he was having a hard time focusing on anything else other than the immense pain in his face. The President was used to vocal answers at his orders. “Speak!” Austin screamed right into the man’s back, watching him flinch back. “Y-Yes.” Your boyfriend’s voice was quiet, but it was something. Ever so slowly the blonde stood up and off of the man’s chest, stepping around him so that he could get to you. 

You had been crying at some point, but had stopped right around the time that you had heard Austin arrive. He made sure that his grip was light on your wrist as he reached out to grab you, bringing you into his chest so that he could wrap his arm around you. He had you, and you were safe. He kept repeating that to himself, trying desperately to contain his anger. Austin started to walk you down the hall, but stopped as he noticed the man on the ground, watching you closely as you walked past. 

“Don’t fucking look at her.” Austin let go of you, motioning for you to make your way down the stairs. For a few seconds it looked like you weren’t going to obey him, almost like you were worried for the other man’s safety. The look in Austin’s eyes pushed you forward though. Made you want to get the hell out of that house and away from that horrible, horrible man. Austin looked at you like you mattered. You were safe with him, you knew it. Once you were down the stairs and out of sight, Austin reared his foot back, aiming for his upper chest. It didn’t take too many pounds of pressure to break someone’s clavicle, and he could tell by the satisfying wet popping noise that he had done just that. 

“God, I’ve barely even touched you and you’re screaming like a little bitch.” Austin crouched down, resting his elbows against his thighs as he took in the sight of him. He wanted to make sure that he memorized the fuckers face, because if he ever saw him out in public. . . 

“If you so much as breathe her name again and I find out? I will hunt you down like the dog that you are and skin you alive. I’ll rip every tooth out of your goddamn head and burn you down until you’re nothing but ash and I’ll make sure you’re still alive for all of it.” And with that Austin calmly stood up and made his way down the stairs, feeling around in his back pocket for his keys and phone. You were standing outside beside his bike, your arms wrapped around yourself tightly. “Hey,” He called out to you, reaching out to rub your shoulders up and down. “You’re going to be okay.” You melted into his soothing touch, because it was Austin.

Leaving Austin behind had been one of the hardest decisions that you ever had to make, but you had done it in the hopes of being able to actually live. Now that he stood in front of you, his blonde hair wind mussed and eyes wide, it really hit you just how much you had missed him. The way that he was looking at you now, you also realized that he was still very much your Austin. Just. . . with a lot more tattoos. “I want to make sure that you’re alright, but we have to get out of here. The cops will be here any minute, and the last thing I want is to be charged with breaking and entering along with assault and battery.” He was quick to hop onto his bike, turning his body to gently pat the leather seat behind him. “Come on. You remember how to do this, right?” He teased softly, trying to lighten the mood. It was becoming hard not to stare at you. Even bruised and tearstained, you were still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. 

He thought that he might go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of your face. You wiped at your cheeks roughly with the back of your hand before flashing him a shaky smile, climbing on back and wrapping your arms around him. He tried not to allow himself to get too excited as he felt your cheek press against his shoulder. He tried not to allow himself to hope. 

Unbeknownst to Austin, you were currently feeling the exact same way. You didn’t want to allow yourself to get sucked back into the Outlaw lifestyle, but if you thought that it was hard to say goodbye to Austin back then, now it would be soul crushing. No one had ever cared as much about you as Austin did, and seeing the way that he had protected you tonight? It put thoughts in your head. It made you doubt whether or not the life that you had been trying to live was really for you or not. You had tried your hand at being the dotting, innocent girlfriend in the hopes of getting everything you had ever thought that you wanted. A white picket fence, a stable future, and a loving partner that you could settle down with. You wanted to get married and have a family. 

You weren’t shocked by how far out into the wildness Austin lived. He was up on a mountain, the roads long and winding. Anybody that didn’t know the twists and turns like the back of their hand would get lost. The biker had always felt most comfortable in nature, and it made sense that he would want to be away from the hustle and bustle of their overpopulated city. Not only that, but it would make it near impossible for anyone that Austin didn’t want to know where he lived to find out. 

His house was a humble two story wood cabin with a large porch and dark green shutters. Time and weather had caused the paint to begin to chip off, and the grass and weeds in the front yard were overgrown. The place was still beautiful, but in need of some basic repairs and upkeep. “I’ve been gone for a little while, so it doesn’t look the best.” He mumbled, sticking his house key into the knob before opening the door wide for you. You could feel his eyes on you the entire way up the porch steps. It made your skin heat up and the hair raise on the back of your neck. After being tightly pressed against his back for nearly thirty minutes, you were finding it hard to look at him. You hadn’t allowed yourself to really stare at him since that first time you saw him walking up the stairs to you, because what you had seen, even in the dark, had knocked the breath out of your lungs. He had always been gorgeous, what with his sandy blonde locks and bright blue eyes. His lazy smile had always lit a fire inside of you, and the nervous habit that he had of biting his lips always left them plush and oh so pink. 

So as you brushed past him you couldn’t help but look up. You let your eyes soak up the sight of him. 

And you instantly regretted it. 

Never in all of your life had you ever seen a more beautiful man. His eyes were still that same antique bottle-blue that you loved so much, framed by thick, heavy lashes. Under the light of the porch his hair looked like liquid gold, now wavy and wild from the wind. His gorgeous, boarding on effeminate facial features were a stark contrast to the rest of him. He had filled out over time, his shoulders broad and strong. You could see his muscles even through the black shirt that he wore. His arms looked more than capable, the veins visible after the physical strain of the fight- and they were completely tattooed. There wasn’t an inch of skin that was visible to you that wasn’t covered- aside from his neck and face. Even his knuckles were tattooed, albeit badly bloodied, and suddenly you were overcome with the urge to grab his hands and examine them. You wanted to trace the line of all of his tattoos. Ask him what each one meant to him. 

You knew that you were being obvious with your staring, but you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down. He was wearing light wash jeans on his long legs, the hem of his pants tucked over his bulky black boots. You had wondered what that rattling sound was that you heard when he jumped up onto the porch earlier, but you could now see that he was wearing a chain wallet. After a second he cleared his throat, closing the door behind you. “You’re probably exhausted. Uh. . . Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” He nodded almost to himself, his throat working as he thickly swallowed. “Let me just take a shower, and then I’ll move down to the couch.” He grabbed the banister as he walked up the stairs, his boots thumping loudly against the wood. 

The spell hadn’t been broken, but you took a second now that he was out of sight to look around the living room. He had a leather couch, a dark brown blanket tossed over the black of it haphazardly. The coffee table had a few beer bottles on it, but other than that the house looked clean. He had always taken good care of his things. Austin was a man of pride, and he liked to keep the things in his life orderly. The cabin was warm and cozy, the polar opposite of the home that he had been raised in. Austin was what some would consider Outlaw royalty, and with the kind of jobs that they took, the money poured in quickly. His childhood home had been a gaudy palace; extravagant walls had been built sky high to help hide the skeletons that had been stuffed into every closet. 

This house felt lived in though. This felt less like just a place for him to sleep, and more so a safe haven for him to crawl back to after a long day at work. It made you feel more comfortable as you slowly made your way up the stairs behind him, following him into his bedroom. This room was also clean, aside from the overflowing clothes hamper. His furniture was black and minimalistic, and directly to the side of his king size bed were french doors that led out to a small balcony that overlooked his backyard. “You have a nice house. . . It’s very you.” You complimented, moving over to the bed so that you could awkwardly sit down. He was in the bathroom, riffling around in one of his cabinets before he found what it was that he wanted. He moved back into his bedroom, showing you a small washcloth that he had wet with cold water. “Let me clean you up a little bit.” He mumbled, sitting down next to you on the bed so that he could run the cloth over your cheek. You hissed, flinching back and out of his touch. Your bruised cheek was starting to get more and more sore as the seconds passed, the initial adrenaline finally working it’s way out of your system. He apologized under his breath, reaching out to grab the back of your head so that he could keep you in place. He was gentler this time as he ran the cloth over your face. “That’s going to be a nasty bruise tomorrow, but other than that you look-” He stopped himself for a second, as if he just realized how close he was to you. For a few seconds the two of you just stared at each other, taking in the small changes that time had made to each other’s features. “Aren’t you going to go take a shower?” Your voice sounded small. Unsure. The trauma of the night was beginning to sink in, and even though you wanted to ask him a hundred questions, you knew that a few moments alone in the room would do you some good. You needed to breathe, and maybe cry a little bit. You didn’t want him there for that. You wanted to be able to fall apart in private. 

He seemed to get the hint. Austin nodded his head, wordlessly standing up and tossing the wet cloth into the laundry basket. He started to close the bathroom door behind him, but you were quick to call out to him. “Wait!” He paused, whipping his head back as he stared at you expectantly. He was eager to hear what you wanted to say, almost like he was waiting for something in particular. “Can you leave the door open?” You weren’t sure why, but the room almost felt too big, like it might swallow you up if you were left alone. You at least wanted to know that he was just another room away. He looked a little confused for a second, but nodded anyway. He understood that there were things that had happened before he had gotten there. Things that had been said to you that were beginning to weigh heavy. Your bones felt too brittle to carry the burden of them. “Of course.” He left the door open a crack, and you politely turned your head, letting him get undressed without your watchful eyes. 

You could hear his clothing hit the floor, one garment at a time. First it was the loud thudding of his boots hitting the checkered tiles, then the soft fluttering of his t-shirt. Ever so slowly you leaned back against the bed, letting your feet dangle uselessly over the side. Your heart began to pound as you heard the zipper of his pants, then the soft jingling of his wallet as he placed it down on the sink counter. “Are you alright?” He finally spoke up. You turned your head then, looking through the doorway of the bathroom. You caught his reflection in the mirror, and he held your gaze. It wasn’t just his arms and hands that were tattooed. Your suspicions had been correct- he was absolutely covered. He let you stare at him, watching you patiently as your eyes moved from one tattoo to the next. He seemed to be a fan of the old american style, all thick black and red lines. He had always been perfect, but now? Your eyes felt like they would start to burn if you stared at him for too long. The sight of him was almost too much. 

He felt the same way about you though. He watched the way your hair was spread out around your head, your lips glossy and parted slightly as you thought about how to answer that question. He could feel his pulse in his throat, and the sight of you laid out on his bed? He had to take a step away from the mirror, turning on the showerhead to hide himself away. “I will be. I’m just glad you got there when you did.” Because you were sure that it would have gotten worse. Your ex boyfriend had always been self conscious, and he liked to take it out on you. When you were home just a few minutes late from work, he thought that you were cheating. If you turned your phone over after texting a friend, then you must be talking shit. It was a never ending pattern of pointing fingers, accusations, and brutal screaming matches. You were raised to stand up for yourself though. You refused to allow yourself to be spoken down to or made to feel like a fool. Tonight. . . tonight was the straw that broke the camel's back. You always knew that he could be ruthless with his words, but you never suspected that he would ever hit you. The One Percenters were horrible people, but you’d never seen your father raise a hand to your mother. There’d be occasional bickering and drunken screaming matches, but the next day they would be attached at the hip like nothing ever happened. You just expected that was how things were supposed to be. 

This new life that you had insisted on living wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Maybe you had screamed too loud, or maybe you had pushed your boyfriend too far. . . but he hadn’t pulled his punch either. You absentmindedly pressed your finger against your cheek, feeling how hot the bruise was under your touch. You were sure that tomorrow it would be swollen and purple, but for now it was just an angry red. 

“Did he do that a lot?” Austin closed the shower curtain behind him as he spoke, ducking his tall frame under the shower head. He closed his eyes tightly, letting the water soak through his hair and warm his face. “Hit you, I mean.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer, because it might make him want to turn right back around and finish the job. “No. . . tonight was the first time.” A beat. “And the last.” He nodded his head softly, placing his shoulder against the cool tile. The stark differences in temperature made his skin raise with goosebumps. He knew that tonight wasn’t the night to question you. You had been through enough, but he wanted answers. 

He wanted to know why you had to shut him out so completely. There were things that you wanted to know about him too. Things you had been wondering over the years but were never able to ask. 

“So you’re the new boss, huh?” He scrubbed at the crusted blood on his hands, chewing on his lower lip as he hesitated. “Yeah.” You filled your cheeks with air, closing your eyes tightly before releasing it with a loud sigh. “Is the Club doing well?” Austin wasn’t sure if you really cared about how they were all doing. You hated it enough to leave, but you were trying to make small talk, so he humored you. “It’s a wreck. I nearly broke Marcus’s neck this afternoon when I saw the state of things.” You hummed, remembering the older man’s laziness. Your father had hated him.  “So I guess you’re not doing too hot as the president then.” He let out a quick laugh, the sound echoing in the bathroom. Your lip twitched up into a small smile at the sound of it. It was the first time you had heard him laugh in years. It was a nice sound. 

“I was locked up for two years. They know to act right when I’m around. They took advantage of the fact that I wasn’t there to watch over them.” You sat up quickly, looking into the bathroom. The mirror was beginning to fog up, and the shower curtain was drawn shut. “Prison?” You questioned. “Yeah, prison. I set fire to one of Howard’s buildings. Burned up at least a million dollars worth of product. It was originally arsen, but then some of his men started snitching. A couple of other charges were pinned against me. They got dropped though, don’t worry.” You rolled your eyes, letting out a small huff. This was exactly what you didn’t want for him. He was too good for all of this bullshit. Too smart. “Well I’m glad you’re out then.” You weren’t sure what else to say. He could tell by your tone of voice that you weren’t pleased, and he didn’t take too kindly to feeling judged. He clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking as he tried to stop himself from saying something. He never did have a filter though. 

“You still had my number saved in your phone.” He finally spoke up, his voice huskier than it was just a second ago. You swallowed, licking your lips nervously. This was one of the questions that you didn’t want to answer. You knew exactly where this conversation would go, and you didn’t have the energy for it. “Yeah, I did.” 

“Why though?” You heard him suck in a small breath. “No call. No text. Five years is an awfully long time.” You took a second to breathe, taking in the smell of the soap that he was using. It was wafting out from the bathroom, mixing in with the natural pine scent of his home. “I didn’t want to confuse you.” You regretted phrasing it that way. You even went as far as to bite your tongue the second that the words left your lips. It was true though. You didn’t want to confuse him or yourself. You set boundaries. Hard boundaries, and it was painful for the both of you. He let out a humorless laugh, the callous sound making you flinch. You wanted to cover your ears and curl up into a small ball. You hated how cold you were suddenly coming off. This wasn’t how you guys used to act around each other. You were both walking on eggshells. The two of you were acting like strangers, and it physically hurt. Your words tugged at Austin’s heart. Kinda made him want to cry. 

“Yeah. . . Yeah. You definitely wouldn’t want to confuse me. You’re right.” He spat the words out like they were poison, pulling the showercurtain to the side so that he could lean his head out. He stared at your blurry reflection in the mirror. “That’s such a half assed response, and you know it. Bull-fucking-shit. You wanted to live some perfect little life, and I didn’t fit the bill, right? I wasn’t good enough, so you cut me out like I never existed at all.” Your jaw dropped and you were quick to stand up and off of the bed. Your heart was beginning to pound again, your adrenaline kicking back up as he raised his voice at you. “I’m not going to accept that response, so you better come up with a better one, Y/n. We grew up together. You tossed me to the side like I was garbage and then only called me when you wanted me to knock a few of your ex’s teeth out.” He pulled the showercurtain shut roughly, the fabric rustling. 

You didn’t want to fight. You didn’t want to play into this. You took a few steadying breaths, picking at the skin of your nail with your thumb before speaking up. “I don’t want to do this with you, Austin. Not tonight.” Even though he couldn’t see you, you still threw your hands up in the air. Austin had a temper. You should have known saying something like that would have gotten him riled up. 

“No, I’ve waited five years for this conversation. Five. So no, this can’t wait until tomorrow.” You rolled your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to keep your own anger under control. “Can’t you be a little bit more sensitive to the situation? Jesus christ, Aus. Tonight isn’t the night. Leave it!” He laughed then. Loud, uncontrolled laughter. The kind with absolutely no humor behind it. All emotions. “You’re crazy. . .” You mumbled under your breath, taking a step closer to the bathroom. 

“Yes! Yes I am.” He was quick to snap back, supposedly hearing you even over the running water. “Crazy for thinking that you actually cared about me. I gave you the space that you so desperately wanted. . . but god dammit- I would have taken anything you had given me. You could have texted me. Emailed me. You could have called me from a payphone. Send me a mother fucking smoke signal! Scraps. You’ve got me begging for scraps, Y/n.” He was acting as though the two of you had been something more than just childhood friends. Nonetheless, your stomach still churned with guilt. You were beginning to feel like a wounded animal being backed into a corner. You were in the wrong. You knew that you were, but you weren’t going to be made to feel like an asshole twice in one night. 

“Well fuck me for wanting a fresh start, Austin. Fuck me for wanting to feel safe for once in my god damn life! I knew what would happen eventually. I didn’t want to get myself mixed up in this fucked up lifestyle any more than I already was.”Could he really not see where you were coming from? He was talking about setting fire to a drug lord’s storage building like it was nothing. How could he not see how messed up this all was? “You knew what would happen? Meaning. . . you knew how I would turn out. Am I getting that right? You just knew I’d turn out like my father, so instead of mentioning it to me and giving me the chance to talk to you, you just disappeared. Yeah, cause that’s a normal response.” Your jaw dropped. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Are you really trying to tell me what a normal response is? Seriously?” He scoffed, but you continued. “You kill people, Austin. Kill them.” 

He didn’t respond, but you kept going. “What you just said? It's a moot point. You turned out just like your father.” He was the one that had brought it up, so he didn’t really have a reason to be so angry. He still ripped the shower curtain back open though, sticking his whole torso out so that he could stare at you through the crack in the door. “Don’t you dare fucking say that shit to me. Don’t even try it.” His voice shook as he tried to keep himself from shouting. “You have no idea what plans I had for my life. You know I didn’t want to do this shit. You knew I wanted to try and get out too. It might have been easy for you, but it sure as hell wouldn’t have been that way for me.” Austin had always talked a big game while growing up, but he never acted on it. Was it so wrong that you never took him seriously? 

“I thought that you were just blowing smoke up my ass.” You were torn. Seeing him again was nice. . . too nice. It made you want to stay and suffer through whatever aggression he had saved up for you. This was getting to be too much though. You didn’t have a way of escaping, and your boyfriend had broken your phone after he saw that you were talking to Austin. You ran a shaky hand through your hair, feeling your eyes well up with unshed tears. “I fucked up, okay? I did you wrong, I know. Can you not see why I did all of it though? Can you not see where I’m coming from, even just a little bit?” You kept your voice quiet and even, and it seemed to work. You could hear Austin taking steadying breaths. You knew that he cared about you- maybe even in a romantic way- but you had no idea that it was to this extent. You loved Austin. You had ever since you were kids, but you saw what kind of a person his father was. You didn’t want to put yourself in that situation. You didn’t want to end up like your mother, yet here you were, standing in his bathroom with a bruised cheek and an even more damaged ego. 

“I would have gotten out with you. I would have found some way to hide the both of us. Burner phones, hideaway houses- anything. Fuck. . . anything.” He had probably stopped bathing a while ago. He was using the shower as an excuse to hide himself away from you. If he looked at you he was sure that he would break down. Get too vulnerable. The anger was steadily burning away, like alcohol to a flame, and all that was left was a crippling sadness. He leaned his forehead against the tile, closing his eyes tightly. You both knew where this was going, and neither of you were ready for it. It had to be said though. It couldn’t wait anymore. 

You had to lean against the bathroom doorway, your legs feeling too shaky and unstable underneath you. “But now you’re in too deep.” Your voice was thick with unshed tears, the realization of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

Because Austin loved you. And you loved Austin. He was caught in a trap, and there was no getting out. “I’m branded for life. I-I’ve done so much shit, Y/n.” He was trying hard not to cry. He hated crying more than anything, even if it was you that he was doing it in front of. He refused to appear weak. 

You didn’t want to know how many people he had hurt over the years. How many people he had killed. “There’s no way you would have meant it, Austin. You would have eventually regretted it. I did what I had to-” “I loved you. I really fucking loved you.” 

The words hung in the air for a second. Echoed around the bathroom and reverberated in your chest. There it was. The words the two of you had never had to say out loud because it had been crystal clear your whole lives. No matter who the two of you dated, it was always there. It was the reason why nothing ever worked out. Nothing ever stuck, and feelings never evolved. Because he was always there with that wide childlike smile and those big blue eyes. Austin was always there to save the day, always there to help you out when you needed him the most. He had never complained either. Not even once. No one could ever replace him. He had always been the love of your life, and for him it was the same. “I wouldn’t have left you. Not ever. I wanted a life with you. . . were you really that blind? Was I not as obvious as I always thought that I was? Do you need me to spell it out for you now?” You stumbled away from the door and into the bathroom, reaching out for the showercurtain and gripping it hard in your hand. “I would have risked my life trying to get the both of us-” You ripped the showercurtain back in one swift move, staring at him wide eyed. 

He didn’t shy away from your gaze either. He turned to face you, his sandy hair clinging to his cheeks and neck as he looked at you. Despite all of the anger and all of the sadness that was settling into the pit of his stomach, his eyes still softened when he looked at you. It was almost as though you two were seeing each other for the first time that night. Really seeing each other. Austin looked at you like you were the only thing that really mattered. Like you’d hung the fucking moon. No one except for Austin had ever looked at you with eyes so sad and yet so lovely. You didn’t just hear the words that he had said, but you had felt them too. It sent your heart into overdrive.

You stepped into the shower, clothes and all, and wrapped your arms around him tight. You had done twenty seven years of waiting. 

No more. 

No more. 

You pressed your lips against Austin’s, and the second that you did he had you pinned up against the tile wall, the cold ceramic pressing hard against your back while the water relentlessly streamed down your front. You were soaked within seconds, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the feel of his warm, naked body pressed up against you. Your lips moved against one another’s in a furious display of passion- all teeth and tongues. The two of you kissed as though you had been doing it for years- everything fell right into place. His soft lips moved in sync with yours, warm water pouring into your open mouths, but you swallowed it all. You wanted to take everything that he was willing to give you. His strong hands grabbed at your hips, fingers pulling against your wet clothes that were acting like a second skin. He pressed even harder against you, breathing you in. 

You took the opportunity to move your hands down his strong shoulders, to the muscles of his back, fingertips dragging against his skin as he softly took your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth. The noise you made spurred him on. He wondered how he could have survived so long without having you this way. 

He felt that if you ever stopped kissing him that he might die. He needed you like he needed air. Your hands explored his exposed skin, fingertips pressing against every ridge and sharp edge of his muscle. They made their way down until they were pinned in between your chests, slowly inching inching inching- “Please.” He gasped into your open mouth, blue eyes opening to look into your own. He wasn’t above begging you. Wasn’t above falling to his knees if it meant that he could have you. Your fingers brushed against his length, thumb sliding along his head. It felt like the air had been punched out of him. The feeling of your small hand wrapped around his cock was almost too much. Because it was you. 

You were touching him. You were touching him. 

You pumped your hand a few times, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He melted against you, leaning his shoulder against the wall as he pressed his forehead into the top of your head, nuzzling his nose into your wet hair. “Let me fuck you. God, let me fuck you.” His muscles shook as he tried to hold himself back. He squeezed his eyes shut so hard that he saw stars behind his eyelids. He wasn’t used to steering off his own urges. He was used to acting out on his anger. Acting out on all that hate that had turned him surly over the years. He felt you nod, and in a second he was fumbling to turn the water off. In the blink of an eye he had your legs wrapped around his waist, the two of you dripping water. He didn’t care. Not at all, because he had you laid back against the bed before you could even object. His eager hands were ripping at your wet clothes, peeling them off of you as quickly as his shaky hands would let him. His chest was already rising and falling at a rapid pace, eyes half lidded, lips a bright pink from your constant lip-locking. You let your eyes dip down, and god you nearly came just at the sight of him. You pushed your wet hair out of your eyes, arching your back as you tried to help him remove your pants. His eyes were darting across your body, trying to look everywhere- memorize every inch of you. “You’re beautiful. So, so beautiful.” He assured you as he slipped your pants down your legs, tossing them into a soggy heap on the floor. 

You wanted to tell him to just go ahead and take you. You needed his cock inside of you. 

You didn’t care about the foreplay. You just needed to feel him. You couldn’t think of anything else aside from him. Your mind was like a broken record. Because the sheer size of him alone was bringing you to near tears, but it was the desperation in his eyes that was your undoing. It was the way his strong, large hands shook as they danced over your body. They grabbed your hips, ran across your heaving stomach as you gulped back deep breaths, and squeezed your breasts tight. You couldn’t find the words to tell him that you wanted him to go ahead and make love to you. Couldn’t shape the syllables. Your tongue felt too thick in your mouth, and your throat felt like it was closing up. 

He gave your lips a warm kiss, trailing them down your chin and along the front of your throat. He paused there, feeling your pounding pulse against his mouth, letting his tongue lap against the wet skin. The sensation of his lips against you had you tilting your head back, your thighs pressing against his length. The both of you moaned at the same, his deep voice vibrating against your throat. His hands moved down your body, sliding easily along your soaked skin. He stopped once he found what he was looking for- and good god you thought your heart was going to stop. Austin pressed his fingers against your folds, feeling your slick, feeling everything. “Ah, fuck.” 

Everything about you was beautiful. Your body, your expressions, and the little noises he seemed to be effortlessly pulling out of you. The feel of you wasn’t enough though- he couldn’t survive off of that alone. He needed to taste you. He slid down your body removing his hands so that he could place them at your thighs, pulling them apart so that he could get a good look at you. You raised up on your elbows, watching him with half lidded eyes as he just laid there on his stomach and stared. If this had been anyone else you would have been self conscious, but you saw the look in his eyes. Saw the way his tongue darted out and licked his lips. “This is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He was in complete awe of you. He knew that if he ever got lucky enough to see you laid bare in front of him like this, that you would be beautiful, but this? It was too much. You were too much. Even if this was just a one time thing for you, there couldn’t be anyone again for him. Not after this. You had ruined him. Completely. 

You had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart, and he was alright with that. 

He separated your folds with his fingers, really drinking you all in before he finally pressed his lips against you. You were quick to cry out, back arching up and off of the bed as your hand flew down, gripping at his wet hair. He set a devastating pace, his tongue flattening out as he licked along your clit, two fingers moving up to slip inside of your entrance. His fingers immediately curled inside of you, pressing against all of the right places. You were glad that he didn’t have any neighbors, because you screamed. How long had it been since someone had taken the time to pleasure you? Too long. Your thighs tried to close, the pleasure becoming too much. It was building too quickly- and you didn’t want to cum yet. 

“Stop. Stop- please.” He didn’t stop though. His eyes flew open, watching you as he felt your walls begin to flutter. He wanted to watch you come undone. “I want to cum on your cock- please.” That made him pause. You tightened around his fingers as he slowly pulled his face away from your core, his needy eyes pinning you down. “You asked so nicely,” He slowly pulled his fingers out, crawling back over you like a wild animal. His gaze was too heated. You had to turn your head to the side and shut your eyes tight. “Please, Austin.” He purred. Purred. 

“Such a good girl,” He pressed his fingers against your lips- the ones that had been inside of you- and you opened your mouth. He pressed his fingers against your tongue, watching you hungrily as you sucked them clean. “So perfect.” He mumbled. You couldn’t take it. You’d never felt so needy in your life. Your quivering thighs moved to wrap around his middle, positioning him at your entrance yourself. That was the final push that he needed. 

“Fuck! Austin!” You screamed as he thrust into you. Every. Inch. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t feel anything else but him. He was the only thing that existed. Your eyes shut tight, but the hand that wasn’t holding himself up quickly moved to your face, grabbing your chin in his hand tightly. “Eyes open.” And you obeyed. You hated authority. You always fought against it, but there was just something about him. You couldn’t deny him. 

His hips snapped against you at a pace that you didn’t think was possible. He fucked you like he was hoping your bones would meld. Like he could somehow absorb into your body. He was inside inside inside. Pressing against every part of you. He continued to hold your face in his hand, his grip tightening as he let out a growl of pleasure. His eyes fluttered, mouth dropping open as he pressed you into the bed. It had been years since he had been with a woman, and even if he hadn’t the pleasure would still have been too much for him. Because you were his woman. 

His one. 

He raised up on his knees, reaching down to grab your hip so that he could take you with him. The angle. The angle. He was fucking you so deep that it hurt. Brought tears to your eyes. But it was good. Too good. His other hand reached out, grabbing the headboard for leverage, his torso leaning over you as his hips continued their near impossible pace. “Oh fuck.” He wished he could have taken a picture of your face, but he settled with storing it deep into his memory. He wanted to relive this moment. Again and again. His cock twitched inside of you, you bliss stricken expression almost too much. He didn’t want to cum. He wasn’t done yet. His hold on the bed frame tightened, and you let out a yelp as you heard the wood crack behind you. He hissed, clenching his teeth in pain as he felt the splintered wood dig into his palm. 

You turned your head just in time to see a few drops of blood soak into the sheets, dripping off of his hand. Your eyes widened, and you were quick to turn your head. You were going to ask him if he was okay, but the second you saw the look on his face you knew that he was more than okay. The pain kept his orgasm at bay- snapped him out of it. He tightened his hold on the splintered wood, the muscles in his jaw working as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. After a second he put all of his wait on his knees, fucking up into you so that he could remove his hand. He took a second to look down at the deep gashes, licking his lips before his eyes found you again. He could have needed stitches- he didn’t care. He dropped his injured palm down to your neck, wrapping his fingers around your throat. You could feel the hot blood smear against your skin, and you weren’t sure why- but never in your life had you ever experienced anything quite so sensual. So personal. 

Because he was marking you. 

He added pressure to his hold on your throat, cutting off airflow. You reached up, clawing at his arms and his chest, mouth opening as you let out a strangled cry. You were cumming. You could feel it. 

He could too. It pushed him to fuck into you harder, his large palm still pressed against your throat, two of his fingers moving up to pull at your bottom lip. He hooked his fingers into your mouth, pulling it open for him- and then he spit. Spit. 

You swallowed it too. 

Then you came undone. Eyes rolled back, head pressed hard against the mattress, and thighs quivering. He pulled an orgasm out of you so earth shattering that you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to breathe, even if he wasn’t still choking you. Your walls clamped down around him, and that was all it took to have him following close behind. He came with your name on his lips. Again and again he said it, driving his cum deep deep deep inside of you. He loosened his hold on your throat, and you sucked in a breath, choking on it. Your chest heaved as you tried to regulate your heart, and he was in a sad state as well. He was gulping down air, blue eyes wide, his arms shaking as he loosened his hold on you. 

Slowly he pulled out, looking down as he watched with grave interest as his cum began leaking out of your entrance. He moved his hand down, using his fingers to gather it up. Pushing it back in. For a few seconds the two of you just stayed there, staring at each other, trying hard to calm yourselves down. “L-Let me get a towel.” He could barely speak. His mouth felt numb and his eyes felt wet. “No,” You shook your head, licking your dry lips. You shut your eyes for a second, listening to the pounding of your heart and his panting breaths. “Leave it.” 

“Okay. . .” He trailed off, and you opened your eyes just in time to see the realization dawn on him. “Okay.” His eyes softened, his lips twitching up into a small smile. You wanted him. All of him. It was acceptance, no matter how vague. You wanted this.  You loved him. You loved him so much it felt like you might burst, your ribs aching under the pressure of it all. You were fucked. This life- no matter how messed up you thought it was- you could make it work. You would make it work, because it was Austin.

Your Austin.

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Filthy

Summary: After a long mission, Bucky needs you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY.

See my Masterlist Here

"Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" Your sweet voice replayed over and over in his mind. He hadn't flat out refused your offer, but he hadn't said yes either. Now as he laid under the rubble of the bomb Hydra had detonated, it was all he could think of.

You were friends, one of the only people besides Steve to make him feel welcome on the Avengers. The others were wary of him, and he didn’t blame them. He had done unforgivable things as The Winter Soldier. Now he was fighting for the right cause. He couldn't help the reoccurring nightmares of the horrors he encountered in his past. He didn't want to get too comfortable in his new life, the one Steve helped him obtain because he was scared The Winter Soldier was still lurking around in his brain somewhere.

That's why he never dated. Sam would tease him, telling him he could have anybody he wanted, but he settled for his hand every night. Bucky couldn't afford to get too close to anyone. Especially someone who was weaker than him like the opposite sex. He was scared he would lose control while being intimate and hurt or even kill his partners. So he never let anyone get too close, until you.

You came bouncing into his life unexpectedly. You were brought on the team shortly after him. He would never forget your first day. Steve introduced you to everyone at the morning meeting. You were all smiles, your bubbly personality instantly drawing him in. The others were making comparisons between the two of you immediately. You were so happy, so upbeat all the time and Steve was the only one who could get Bucky to crack his cold exterior and actually smile.

Despite your differences, you got along great. Which was a bonus since Tony liked to pair you together for missions. You worked well together, complimenting each other in ways you had never thought of. Who knew almost dying together every week can cause you to form close bonds? You were spending all your free time together. You introduced him to your favorite films, some of them were awful, but he would never tell you that. You would stay up late together watching old reruns of 90's sitcoms for comfort after long missions. Bucky would go shopping with you, holding every bag you had and never complaining.

The team thought something was going on between you. Why else would the cold super soldier follow you around like a lost puppy? They put Steve up to asking about it, but Bucky denied anything but friendship. There had never been anything happen in the whole year you knew each other. You never sat too close or crossed any boundaries, never thought about it until a month ago.

One of the longest, most dangerous missions you had ever been on finally came to a close. There had been too many casualties and you were upset. Even the comfort of your warm pajamas and favorite movie didn't ease your mind. Bucky thought you needed to be alone, so he told you goodnight and headed for his room. You called after him pleading him to stay with you. You couldn't be alone, not after that.

He hesitated, he never stayed the night with anyone because of his nightmares. Tony even gave him a pass when a mission required room sharing. He was the only one who didn't have to pair up. He was afraid he might hurt you or scare you during his sleep. He tried to tell you, but you couldn't be swayed. He found himself under your fluffy pink comforter on heart shaped pillows, surrounded by a mountain of stuffed animals but he felt oddly at home.

You tried to cuddle up to him, but he scooted away. He didn't want you too close to him while he was asleep just in case he had a nightmare. But you didn't care. You told him if he attacked you in his sleep, you would blast his dick off. That made him a little less worried. "How do Tony and Clint do it?" You asked as you wrapped your arms around him, trying to snuggle the grumpy super soldier. "Do what?" He relaxed a little under your touch. "The whole normal family thing. They have a wife, kids, the works, and they are the only ones. The rest of us can't keep a relationship for more than a month, and some only do one night stands. It's hard being a hero when you have to give up stuff like that."

Bucky considers your words carefully. "Is that something you want?" You throw your leg over him, trying to get comfortable. "Eventually, I want to settle down. I'm thinking at least ten years from now, not any time soon. It's just hard to tell who is asking you out for the right reasons or because you're famous. I can't tell you how many phones I've destroyed after dates because they were trying to live stream the whole thing. Is that why you don't date?"

Bucky tenses, explaining how his past as The Winter Soldier scared him away from anything like that. "So you haven't been having sex because you're scared you will hurt someone?" He nods and you giggle. Bucky looks at you like you've grown a second head. "I'm sorry Bucky, that's ridiculous. Your arm must be so tired! Oh my God! Do you use the metal one?" His silence makes you laugh harder. "Bucky there are super powered women you could have been sleeping with this whole time. People who could at least put up a fair fight if something like that happened, but you're okay now right? I thought the code words didn't work anymore." You rub his back soothingly.

You gasp as an idea hits you. "Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" It was like word vomit. You didn't mean to say it out loud, but you couldn't take it back now. Bucky is so still that you think he's fallen asleep. Thankful he didn't hear your unhinged suggestion, you lay your head down to go to sleep.

"You mean that?" Bucky asks after a few minutes of silence pass. "If it wouldn't hurt our friendship then, why not? I trust you. And I could hold my own if things went sideways. Plus, I'm a lot hotter than your hand, you have to admit that." The quip earned a chuckle from him. "Can I think about it?" He asks, his seriousness taking over. "Of course." You snuggle back into him, sleep finding you more quickly than you would've liked. That was a little over a month ago, neither of you brought it up afterward. You figured he didn't want to hurt your feelings, so you let it go.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand helping him to his feet. "I thought we lost you back there." He says leading him to the quinjet. On the ride home, Bucky thought about his life, how unhappy he had been lately. He thought of you and how he kept you at arm's length to protect you from himself. You were always so open to him, always letting him know what was on your mind. When you suggested the two of you sleep together, he was shocked. Of course, he wanted to but he couldn't. You were too sweet, he was jaded. He would end up hurting you somehow, he was sure of it. But you weren't scared of him, you trusted him.

Bucky thought of all the times he laid alone at night, masterbating when he could have went home with someone instead. He always turned them down, he couldn't risk it. He lived too dangerously. He could lose his life any moment saving the planet from the next alien attack. Wasn't it time he started living for himself? He had his mind made up when the quinjet landed. Steve told him to go get the cuts on his face and arm examined but he ignored him.

He almost ran to the elevator, not bothering to wait for Steve to get on before pressing the button to shut the doors. When it finally stopped on his floor, he walked by his room, stopping three doors down right outside of yours. He should have cared that it was three in the morning, that he would be waking you up, but he didn't. He tapped on the door loud enough to wake you.

He regretted coming straight here as he waited for you, he should have went to his room to shower first. His leather jacket was dirty and torn. There was a small gash on his arm that had finally stopped bleeding. His face was filthy and according to Steve, he had a cut there too. He probably looked terrifying. He thought about leaving to clean up, but then he heard the pitter patter of your feet as you approached the door.

You pull it open slightly at first, to see who is outside, opening it wider when you see him. He steps inside as you shut it back, locking it behind him. Bucky looks around the dark room noticing the glow from your tv. Your hair is messy, you must have been sleeping fitfully. His gaze drops to your body, you're wearing a black t-shirt that stops at your hips and black lace panties.

"Are you okay?" You ask taking in his disheveled appearance. You turn to get something to clean his wounds, his vibranium hand catches your wrist. "Bucky? What hap-" He picks you up with one arm, holding you close to his body as his lips crash into yours. He walks you to the edge of your bed, tumbling on top of you as your back hits your fluffy pink comforter.

"Do you still want this?" He asks, his voice rougher than he intended. You can't think clearly, not with him on top of you, caging you in like this. His blue eyes search your face as he waits for an answer. Your panties grow wetter with each second that passes. Your nipples are peaked under your shirt, desperate to be touched as you press your chest to his dirty leather jacket. "Yes" You somehow manage to whisper your confirmation.

His mouth is on yours again, rough and demanding, almost desperate. You cup his face with your hands, "Slow down, I'm not going anywhere." You assure him, breaking the kiss. He groans, hating the loss of contact. "Can't" He rasps, his face nuzzling against your neck. He nips and kisses the sensitive skin there, his tongue licking from your shoulder to your jaw.

His flesh hand travels to your chest, rubbing his thumb over your clothed nipple. He keeps kissing his way back down your throat until he reaches the collar of your shirt. His metal arm grabs the top, slipping underneath to get a good grip on it. He rips it down the center with little effort.

You gasp as the cold air hits your now exposed chest. But you're not cold for long, Bucky's lips capture a nipple between his lips tugging and sucking like his life depends on it while his flesh hand toys with the other one. You're not sure what has gotten into him, you never expected it to be like this, like he needs you.

He kisses a trail down your stomach to your panties. They aren't exactly see through, but they don't hide anything either. His vibranium fingers dig into your hip as he lowers his face, his pink tongue licking up the center of your soaked panties. You whimper underneath him, your fingers sliding in his hair, pulling at the short strands.

He grunts as he licks you through the lacy material. You try to close your legs around his head, hoping to bring yourself more relief. Bucky's steel grip on your hip tightens as he brings his flesh hand to your thigh, pulling it off him. He opens you wide, continuing his desperate assault on you. "I need more, please." You whine, needing to actually feel him against you.

He thankfully takes mercy on you, removing his hands to grab both sides of your panties. "Lift your hips for me." You do as your told, and he slides the unwanted garment off of you. He drags you to the edge of the bed, lowering himself on his knees in front of you. He parts your thighs, metal hand returning to its rightful place on your hip. You place your leg over his shoulder, taking a deep breath as the anticipation makes your skin prickle.

His hot breath on your soaked core makes you tremble. You feel him smirk against you. "I havent even touched you yet and you're shakin' like a leaf." A dark chuckle escapes him and he dives in. His tongue flat against you as he gathers your slick, bringing it to your clit and swirling it around. He moans, loving the way you taste. He wraps his lips around your most sensitve part, drawing you in, causing your hips to buck upward.

His grip on your hip tightens, a bruise beginning to form under his thumb. "Be a good girl for me. Stay still." His voice is soft, gentle, a complete contrast to his actions. He alternates between sucking you roughly and licking you slowly. You squirm underneath him, you're so close. He suddenly stops, removing his face from you.

His flesh hand rubbing your stomach, before laying his arm on you forcefully to keep you from moving. "I said stay still." He growls, his tongue swiping your clit before he sucks it between his lips once more. It takes every ounce of concentration you have to not writhe against him. You've never seen him like this so needy, almost feral. He's like a wild animal slurping you down like you're the first thing he's eaten in weeks. You don't dare to disturb him. So you lie as still as you can, letting him have you.

He needs this. He needs you. He flicks his tongue expertly over your clit, sendng you spiralling. He holds you down as he takes all he wants from you. He's not satisfied until you come three times. Your legs are wobbly, you couldn't get up if you had to. Tears stream down your face from how intense it was. He finally stands, unbuttoning his pants, sliding them down just enough to free himself.

He adjusts himself between your legs, filling you up. You gasp, grabbing onto his grimy leather jacket for support. You wonder why he didn't bother with getting undressed, but you don't mind. You love how dirty he is. How the filth on his jacket rubbing against your bare chest is the sexiest thing in the world right now. How you can see the cut on his arm, dried blood on his sleeve. You don't know if it's his or some Hydra asshole's, and you don't know which is hotter.

His hair is disheveled. His face is scraped, dirt from the mission caked on him, remnants of your arousal still on his mouth. He fills you completely over and over, holding you as close as he can. His pants rub the back of your thighs as he pounds into you. You caress his face, "Can I be on top?" You ask quietly, afraid you'll offend him some way in his feral state. He flips you so his back is on your mattress. Normally you would be upset that your sheets were getting dirty, but you didn't mind at all. You place your legs on either side of him, sliding down his length. Your ass hits the fabric of his jeans as you take all of him.

You look behind you noticing how big he looks on your bed. His leather boots covered in mud, hanging off the edge. A gush of arousal floods his lap, his hands hold your thighs, pulling you closer. You begin to lift yourself up and down on him, your legs still shaky from your earlier orgasms. Bucky notices you won't be able to keep it up for long, so he clutches your hips, taking over. He thrusts underneath you, your hands land on his shoulders needing to steady yourself. You love that it's giving the illusion that you're in control, your body on top of his, but he's calling all the shots, moving your body like he owns it.

You've never felt so full. It's as if Bucky can read your mind, his flesh hand pressing on the bulge he's making in your stomach. He works you harder now, his vibranium thumb coming between you to swirl your clit. Your vision goes blurry, stars bursting behind your eyelids. You come with a loud cry of his name. He follows shortly after, spilling inside you. He holds you close, as you listen to his breathing slow down as he drifts off to sleep while still inside you.

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The Wrong Idea (part 2) | Lee Bodecker x Reader

(read part 1 here)

summary: your relationship with your stepfather only becomes more tense, and both of you know you can’t avoid him forever.

word count: nearly 5.8k

warnings: smut (heavy dubcon/noncon, and a few consensual encounters), stepcest, pain kink, daddy kink, groping, semi-public sex, a bit of pregnancy/breeding kink (just through dialogue), stockholm syndrome/sympathy for the abuser, grooming (hence the thing before this one), a bit of violence including use of a gun, a bit of housewife kink?

Keep reading

I feel like literally no one watched the show????

Like I’m seeing so many people asking questions because they didn’t understand, when all they needed to do was pay attention?

I saw one ‘how can the echo posses so many humans at once?? It wasn’t explained??’ But it was…

Lucas (the echo) was using the identity key to change over to dodge and Gabe… like it’s not hard to follow.

Girl dodge and Gabe are not real people, like explained in season 2 episode one when Eden tried to change over to Kinsey… she couldn’t do it because they can’t become someone that already exists, they can only become a completely new person.

I feel like so many people are saying they hate the show because of this reason and that reason… but all they needed to do was pay attention.

The Needs of Pain (part 2)

A/n since y’all liked part one!!

… i think i could make a part 3?? we’ll see lol 

This is the LONGEST thing i’ve written on here wow,, and the smuttiest 

Warnings: teasing, oral, unprotected sex (pls this is my first time writing full smut be gentle lol)

– 

Exhaustion is an odd result of pain. I didn’t think I was that tired after the burn. I certainly didn’t feel sleepy while Kirigan cleaned my shoulder and brushed his soft lips and sharp teeth along my neck to distract me from the pain. Why am I even thinking of that? Of the way his breath felt against my skin, the way his tongue soothed any bites he left against my skin. I breathe out flatly. 

Stop thinking of him. Stop thinking of him in that context–that’s why he did it. He enjoys getting under people’s skin, that’s why he’s always insulting the way I see the world. My hand reaches to my neck, touching my skin where I can still feel his lips on my skin, tracing the faint marks I had seen in the bathroom mirror.

I should have asked the healer to get rid of them before they fully formed, but the thought of showing them to anyone was too embarrassing to bear. I force my hand away, dropping it onto my pillow. 

He had acted so strange today, he had been so blunt. It was a tactic. He wants to be in my head and I’m giving him what he wants. I sigh, rolling over and pulling my duvet further up my body. It’s too hot for this. Ugh. I kick the duvet off of my legs, letting my nightgown wrinkle up my body. Strong hands could pull the fabric up in a similar, yet much more euphoric way. 

No. Who’s thoughts are these? The fact that I picture the same hands that dabbed at my burn earlier today has me questioning my sanity. I can’t sleep like this. Kirigan wanted to be in my head and now he is. Damn him. I can’t stand him which means I can never have him.

Desire has nothing to do with tolerance. The thought leaves my face warm and stomach twisted. 

I sit up sharply, sliding out of bed tiredly. I’ll get some air and everything will be fine. The moon will clear my mind.

The Little Palace is strangely twisting at night, all long shadows and yellow lantern light. I slip out of my room quickly, but my thoughts are not immediately banished with the change of scenery. I must be ill. Infection must have set in regardless of my efforts and the healer sealed it beneath my skin and now it’s impacting me. Fever. I’m delusional with fever. 

“I didn’t take you the kind for a late night trist.” 

His voice leaves the hairs on the back of my neck standing like soldiers at attention. I manifested him the same way people manifest the devil. “Air.” My defense is childish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get some air.” 

The sound of even footsteps leaves me frozen in place. “What keeps someone like you awake?” It’s like he can read through me. “Thoughts of me?” 

He can never know. “Obviously.” 

My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, he lets out an almost humored breath. “Or perhaps it’s pain.” 

The comment is so confusing I almost don’t realize he’s bringing up my shoulder injury. How had I let him see me so vulnerable? Why did he seem somewhat concerned in his own way? 

“My shoulder’s perfectly fine.” Good. A normal direction for this conversation to head. “It took the Healer all of two minutes.” 

The touch on my shoulder is so sudden I almost jump. Kirigan doesn’t shy away at that, fingers firmly brushing down the skin. “It feels the same.” 

I could scream. His strange observation means nothing to me, but the implication is enough to drive me mad. The implication that he knows my skin well enough to be able to judge whether the healed skin feels different is sickening. I’m tired of this. 

I turn on my heels, all of my tiredness and irritation twisting in me. “Even if it didn’t, it’s none of your concern.” 

“I didn’t realize you were extra irritable when you’re tired.”

Every conversation with him leaves me feeling petulant. “I’m not tired.” I cross my arms, keep my expression set. “I just–I wanted to get some air.” 

“Hm.” He takes a step forward, preparing to close the small distance I’d managed to create between us. “And why is that?” 

The question leaves me irritated in an odd way. A flat way. There’s a narcissistic entitlement in that question. An entitlement to my thoughts. I shrug. “I hoped it’d make me tired.” 

Kirigan draws his eyebrows together, curiosity and something resembling amusement playing at his expression. “If you’d like to be tired, I think I know a few ways to be of assistance.”

A faint, aggravating warmth comes to my face. Not only did my lie earn me a ridiculous innuendo, it’s also trapped me in a corner I cannot escape. Healing from the burn had left me pathetically drowsy. There’s no way he can’t see through me, a tired haze has to be visible on my face. My eyelids feel weighted and I’m too distracted by my deep longing for sleep to hold onto irritation. 

“I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.” The words are not meant to be a challenge, just a way to dismiss him. I don’t think he takes them that way. 

He draws his eyebrows together, eyes threatening to lose that curious quality. Kirigan steps forward, I step back blankly, desperate to keep enough distance to keep what’s left of my wits about me. He ignores my reaction, taking another step forward. I take another step back. My back touches the wall. I am a mouse and he’s an excited cat. 

“You don’t have to,” his voice is too low, too intimate, “I’m not sure that’s something you want to understand.” 

My chin raises just slightly, a silent protest. “Dependency is a fatal flaw.” 

“So is desire,” his reply is much too quick. “Desire is worse, because one can resist dependency based on pride…but desire, that is something that one sacrifices for.” 

Maybe if I was less tired I’d bother to interpret his words a little more. But all I can focus on is his tone–the quality of it. “You sound heavy.” My voice is as light as the night breeze I was craving moments ago. “But you always sound heavy.” It’s the wistful observation of someone slowly disappearing. “At least you’re pretty,” I muse, falling more and more distant by the second.

Something soft breaks across his features, his lips quirking. “Pretty?” 

I rest my back against the wall comfortably, eyes shutting without permission. “I’m sure I’ll regret that comment in a moment.” 

He stays silent, but his presence does not disappear. I can’t tell if I’m glad for it. The warm touch on my shoulder startles me out of my drowsy trance. Panic has me ready to jump off the wall, but Kirigan brushes his thumb up and down my shoulder. His touch sets any skin that comes in contact with him aflame. I shouldn’t find the gesture so comforting. My eyes flutter shut again, my body relaxing against the wall. When my protest dies out before it begins, Kirigan shifts closer. I’m confused, but too at peace to answer. Something velvety and warm brushes against my collar. Soft and warm and electric. He’s kissing my skin again. 

My lips part in hopes of arguing, but when his teeth graze the skin he already marked earlier I’m gone. My eyes shut again, but this time it’s different. Pleasure and drowsiness clear me of all inhibitions as his touch becomes more and more assured. I let him test me, his mouth moving against any and all exposed skin. I don’t even stop him when I feel his hands graze the hem of my nightgown, wrinkling it the way I imagined earlier. 

“Kirigan.” I need to find my strength, but what’s the point of strength when his touch leaves me so warm? The only acknowledgement of my protest he offers me is the lingering squeeze of my thigh before his long fingers begin to graze towards the inside of my thighs. I have no choice but to let his lips brush up my neck, his teeth grazing my skin the way they did earlier today. “Kirigan.” I try to sound firmer, but he destroys the rest of my sentence before I have the chance to get it out. His teeth nip the base of my neck, ruining my protest for a second time.

 Maybe if I was less tired I’d be able to fight him off a little better, but I’m so drowsy I had trouble thinking before he started touching me. My eyes shut in both bliss and exhaustion. His thumb presses into my hip. Something in me stalls as his fingers brush the hem of my underwear–testing me, challenging me. I open my eyes on instinct, but he remains unbothered, slipping his thumb beneath the only fabric that divides us in order to better grip my hip.

I stiffen because of how badly I want to melt. This is bad. This is insane. We’re in a hallway in the middle of the night and he’s General Kirigan. Whatever attraction I feel is another tactic to manipulate me. 

“We need to stop.” The command is weak, my voice as dry as my resolve. 

He angles his head in order to regard me a little better. His expression is one of mock confusion as he smirks. Actually smirks. “Stop what?” False innocence drips from his voice as he leans towards me, expression amused as his lips near my own. “I haven’t even started yet.” My eyes widen, something that amuses him. “Y/n?”

I’m left on edge. I’m left wanting. My lips part flatly, but words feel so distant. “Yes?” 

“What happened earlier?” His voice is the kind of sinful that’s meant to coax. Kirigan brushes his thumb across my shoulder, eyes watching mine cautiously. “How did you get burned?” 

I push against the sultry quality of his voice. “I told you–an accident.” 

“Hm.” His eyebrows draw together in a surprisingly soft way. I stare at him freely, but he ignores my gaze, eyes locked on my newly healed skin. Is he truly that concerned? “Whose accident?” 

I swallow once. “My own.” He still isn’t looking at me. “I’m not exactly the most coordinated person, you’ve witnessed my clumsiness yourself.” 

Kirigan is not convinced. Perhaps he will never fully buy my partial lie. His grip on me hardens. Restraint. I may not be able to win against his paranoia, but I might be able to distract him. Cautiously, I move one hand forward, touching the hand that’s on my shoulder. I hesitate. Touching him without prompting almost feels too intimate. I’m being ridiculous. I brush my fingers against the back of his palm, letting my touch trail up his forearm. 

“Y/n.” My name borders on a warning. 

I suppress a smile, playing into my sleepiness as I tilt my head to the side. “Yes?” 

He doesn’t reply, expression tightening as my hand snares around his wrist, pulling it off my shoulder with more care than I thought myself capable of. The intensity of his gaze is enough to burn me. I turn my full attention to his hand. I’d never admit this out loud, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about how objectively attractive his hands are. I kiss each of his knuckles slowly, brushing my lips against his skin tentatively. 

To my surprise, he allows my indulgence. I glance at him through my lashes. Kirigan’s eyes are shut, expression bordering on pained. “Kirigan?” 

He opens his eyes but his expression does not ease. His other hand leaves my thigh, grabbing the low collar of my nightgown with such a fierce speed it takes me a second to realize what’s happening. He pulls me away from the wall in a way that borders on violent. 

“I don’t know who you’re protecting, but I guarantee you they’re not worth it.” The words are acidic. He’s seething. “I grow tired of your resistance.” 

If he hadn’t transformed into something so untamed, I might have had enough gall to tell him I grow tired of being toyed with. I say nothing, instead I take in the abrasiveness of his anger, the tension of his grip on the thin fabric that clothes me. I am unflinching in my assessment in the most tired way possible, eyes struggling not to shut and body desperate to rest, but even more desperate for him. His eyes stare into mine, searching for something I am too far gone to offer. He must realize my sleepiness is genuine because he soon drops his gaze, taking his time in analyzing the even rise and fall of my chest as well as the hint of cleavage his grip on my nightgown is exposing. Pure heat finds itself in my face, chest, and worst of all—core. His staring lacks any shame. 

Kirigan parts his lips as if to speak but then instead takes a moment to lick them. The thought of his tongue in relation to lips only makes the burning in me worse. It’s practically an ache. A needy one. 

“I grow weary of your lack of understanding.” 

Understanding? “What is there to understand?” 

His head angles itself to one side but he doesn’t meet my gaze. The hold he has on me loosens just enough so that his hold on me is no longer taut. That should not disappoint me the way it does. I wait patiently, ignoring the bundle of unexplained nerves in my stomach as best as I can. Something strange colors his features when he finally looks at me again, something almost vulnerable. 

“I brought you here.” He sounds farther from me than ever. “I…” His exhale is gentle, but his expression is quick to harden. “Who are you so willing to protect?”

I must be really tired because his voice sounds like it borders on heart ache. If I didn’t fear Arthur’s safety I’d tell Kirigan everything if it meant his pain would dissipate. I never thought Kirigan’s potential pain would bother me, but now that I’ve seen him look stricken by something so weighted–now that I’ve seen the way he wears pain–I don’t want to be the one to give him that. I want to be the one to give him some kind of sanctuary. The thought leaves me with a desire to flea. 

“Will you just believe me when I say it’s no one?” In a way that’s the truth. Arthur is not particularly significant unless you’re a young Grisha female with a desire for heart ache. “No one worth mentioning at least.” 

He’s quick to retighten his hold on my nightgown, leaving the fabric taut and more of me exposed. “You being desperate to protect them makes them worth interest.” A different response than I expected. 

My lips thin. “Only because it was a small accident. They don’t deserve to be punished over the briefest loss of focus.” 

I take his silence as an indicator that he is considering my words. His free hand finds my shoulder as he pulls me even closer to him by the fabric he’s gripping. “And if I were to revoke the threat of punishment?” His voice is the definition of temptation, low and promising and coddling me with its sinfulness. I still as Kirigan leans forward so that his lips are practically on my ear. “Then would you tell me? If I released you from the binds of your nobility?” My lips part but I have no words prepared. Before I can think of what to say, his lips graze the side of my jaw before his teeth nip at the end of my ear. “Tell me just to humor me.” 

The command doesn’t make sense to me, but from his lips it feels important. “You won’t hurt them for what happened?” 

His voice seems rougher than before, “Would that make a difference?” 

“It would make all the difference.” I don’t like the honesty of my words. 

Kirigan allows one hand to trail down my waist–a gesture I consider obscenely intimate when paired with the soft brush of his lips on my collar. “I already know who.” His voice is a dark hum. “I was always going to know one way or another–but it’s good to know you would have told me.”

My stomach lurches, dread pouring into me like tar. Before fear can force me to take action, Kirigan begins to leave open mouth kisses from the top of my jaw to the bottom of my neck, taking his time to assault any spot of skin with his tongue that he wants. This reminds me too much of earlier–touches meant to distract from pain with the use of pleasure. 

“Are you–” His mouth is now on my collar, threatening to destroy my question. “Are you going to hurt him?”

At that Kirigan straightens. The sudden lack of contact leaves me cold. I shouldn’t be thinking of him. Of his touch. “I’m curious,” he draws out each syllable, delighting in my nerves, “Would you bear his punishment?” 

I’m not sure. I hate that. I haven’t known Arthur for that long, and while he’s kind, he also seems to see all women as replaceable. That isn’t reason for him to endure Kirigan’s punishment but I don’t know him well enough to just blindly agree to that. I loathe myself for not being noble enough to take Arthur’s punishment instantly. 

“What kind of punishment?” 

Kirigan’s expression twists into a greedy smile. He pushes me back easily, pressing me into the wall with more confidence than ever. I’m silent in my confusion until he presses himself against me and I feel something hard and bulging press into where I’m neediest. I stifle a gasp of surprise and something similar to pleasure. “I’m sure I could think of something for you.” I’d care more about my confusion if hot need wasn’t flooding my thoughts and my body with undeniable desperation. “I haven’t even spoken to him.” I exhale, untrusting relief desperate to escape me. Kirigan is quick to lean forward, lips brushing my ear as he prepares to whisper. “I’m more likely to harm him because he has your favor than anything else.”

Warmth burns my face. “He doesn’t–he’s not exactly the one that holds my favor.”

The heat of his breath adds to my burning as he presses his bulge into my core again. “And who does?” 

I’m not sure what he considers favor, but if it has anything to do with wanting he wins. But he can never know that. “There are some contenders, but no one yet.” 

His hand moves off my hip and nears my throat. “Would it be too bold to assume I’m on the short list?”

He’s two steps away from taking me in an open hallway, I doubt he finds much bold. “Do you want to be?” 

Kirigan’s hand tightens on my throat. “I’ve made it clear from the beginning what I want.” His words are lethal and each syllable has him restricting my airflow a little more. Something in me must be broken because my neediness only worsens. “I brought you here because I see all that you could be. Forget being a Saint, we could be gods.” The sentiment is so raw it’s almost harder to bear than his tight grip on my neck. He leans close again, his scent only adding to my budding lightheadedness. “Say the word, and I could have you praising me like I’m already a god.” My stomach knots in both nerves and insatiable hunger. “Though I’m the one that would be doing the worshipping.” 

My resolve is shattered, leaving me broken and twisting. He releases his hold on my neck in order to move his hand beneath my chin. There is nothing gentle about the way he jerks my head forward, forcing me to look into his eyes. Something about the look he gives me has me melting. His eyes are searching for something in me.

He must find whatever he’s looking for because I feel his touch against my heat, fingers pressing against fabric. I bite my lip on instinct, suppressing the sound of my undoing. Kirigan’s eyes never leave mine as the hand on my chin moves to brush against my bottom lip. 

“I can only give you what you want if you tell me what that is.” 

He exhales slowly, pressing his thumb against my lip downwards. My mouth parts on instinct, something that he takes well. His thumb enters my mouth slowly, taking in my reaction as I taste his skin on my tongue. Kirigan pulls his thumb away from my tongue slowly, a thin string of saliva connecting him to my mouth. With one swift tug, his free hand pulls the only fabric separating him from where I want him most down my thighs. His expression reveals nothing as his thumb, still wet with my saliva, is pressed against my core. His touch teases my clit, just barely brushing where I need him most. The whine that escapes me is so desperate I’m ashamed I can’t help it. 

“So wet already,” his appraisal is gentle, the praise whispered against my throat as his lips brush against my neck. “So wet, so needy that you’d let me take you in this hallway and I’ve hardly touched you.” His finger presses further into me. I let out another pathetic breath. “A pity, someone like you–so painfully under cared for.” I’m reduced to nothing by his words and touch. “What I’d give to undue you here, against the wall–I’d have you crying so loudly everyone would know that I’ve claimed you, that I’ve made you mine.” Before I can reflect on his words, he steps back, pulling my underwear back up as quickly as he yanked it down. 

I let out an instinctual whine. My hand moves to his arm, grabbing him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. “What–” 

Kirigan squeezes my hand, a predator’s smile on his lips. “I want to feel all of you,” his hand squeezes my hip, “I can’t exactly do that against a wall, dove of mine,” he leans forward, lips brushing against my jaw in a way that leaves me chilled and melting at the same time, “At least not the first time.” 

His whisper forces my breathing to hitch, a fact that he notices with an amused look as his thumb brushes against my collar. Kirigan pulls me away from the wall easily. Even the causal touch feels electric against my skin. 

The walk towards my room is tense, his hands never leaving me as if he’s aware of how necessary it is to keep me distracted to ward off my better sense. When we reach my door, Kirigan opens it like it’s his. Entitled. Typical. 

I step into the room, his touch lingering on my arm. A brief shyness pushes itself into my chest. I had let Kirigan touch me in a public space and lead me back to my room. The door closes. I don’t turn. 

Kirigan’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “Shy, now?” His question is teasing, rekindling the fire beneath my skin as he places an open mouth kiss on my neck. He plays with the thin strap of my nightgown, pushing it off my shoulder. He kisses down my neck, collarbone, and shoulder. My inhibitions are melted away again. “When your breathing stalls like that,” his whisper is enough to elicit a desperate shudder, “I am left desperate.” 

He leans forward, mouth trailing down my chest, coming dangerously close to my breasts. The electric current of his touch is all consuming and addicting. I press my back into his chest. His hands are the opposite of shy, touching me everywhere except where I’m most desperate. Kirigan’s hand places itself between my thighs, using his thumb to tease my entrance. I let out a needy sound. And then he retracts his hand, grabbing my shoulders and turning me in one swift motion. 

“Kirigan.” 

His eyes are dark, clouded by something I don’t understand but am too aware that I reciprocate. “Tell me that I have your favor.” His words are taut, bordering on snapping. Kirigan’s grip on me tightens hard enough to bruise, an assertive need taking over him. “That you want me.”

Desire, pride, and rationality twist in my stomach, leaving me too distracted to form words. My gaze drops to the ground on instinct, something Kirigan clearly finds unacceptable because he’s quick to grab my chin and force my eyes to meet his. 

I swallow once, courage withering beneath the look in his eyes. It’s as twisted as a spindling shadow, but the look is fierce admirational, appreciation so deep I could drown in it. It scares and consols me all at once. “I want you.” There’s something pained about such powerful emotion. I loathe and am empowered by it all at once. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” The words leave my throat scorching with their sincerity. 

As soon as the words leave me, he’s closing the distance between us, the slightest exhale of tension leaving his lips before they meet mine, prepared to devour me. I reciprocate his actions on instinct alone. There is no hesitation, no space, and yet it is not enough. Not enough and yet I don’t know how to be closer. But Kirigan does. One of his hands cup my cheek, coaxing me towards him as if I could possibly have the will to leave him. He steps forward, guiding me to step back. I obey fluidly until I feel something hit the back of my legs. It’d startle me if I wasn’t so consumed by his touch.

His mouth begins to move away from my skin. I chase after him, desperate to keep him touching me. He stops me by placing a hand on my shoulder, a warning about my neediness. I pout, but as he studies me I pant. Maybe the excuse for air was a good idea. I don’t fight the uneasiness of my breathing as I hold Kirigan’s gaze. He regards me with a patience I consider unbearable, taking in the determined look in his eyes, my swollen lips, disheveled hair, and the top of my night gown that’s half falling off. 

It’s in this moment I realize how much more vulnerable than him I am. 

If Kirigan notices any shift in me, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he adjusts his hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing the hot skin gently. “You are everything.” His voice is cracking glass. “Everything that’s good, at least.” 

Maybe he did notice my initial reaction because I am no longer certain that I am the one that’s most vulnerable. “You’re better than you think.” I only say this because it would only weigh on me more to stay silent. “I see it and you don’t want me to.” 

His hand continues to stroke my cheek. “I want you to see all of me.” The heavy beating of my heart seems to stall in my chest. Kirigan drops his hand before grasping the hem of my nightgown. He pulls the fabric upwards easily, bundling the fabric above my hip. “I want you to…” He exhales flatly, pulling the fabric upwards even more. Nerves flood my stomach as he leans towards me, kissing down my jaw. “To know me,” he whispers against my throat.

I am nothing but uneven breaths as he mouth moves down my chest, stalling only once he’s reached my breasts. He pushes me forward easily, guiding me so that I’m laying on my bed. He’s quick to move over me, kissing up my neck as he adjusts so that I’m against the headboard.

When he pulls away again, I’m left pouting. He grins, fueled by my disappointment. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, fingers hooking around the waistband of my underwear before tugging it down my legs easily, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” 

Being so exposed has my doubts flooding back, but Kirigan is quick to fight against my instincts in a way only he seems capable of. He squeezes the inside of my upper thigh before leaning down, pressing his mouth onto the skin his fingers just touched. His kisses here are meant to leave me even more desperate, each nip and fleeting pass of his tongue is lazy yet intentional. I am incapable of doing else besides letting out pathetic whines. 

He ignores where I need him most, kissing up my thigh, across my lower stomach, and then down my other thigh. Kirigan continues the pattern across my skin, ignoring any pleas I swallow my pride to give. He is not rushed by my words or cries or the occasional desperate adjustment of my hips. 

Kirigan lifts his head slightly, releasing my inner thigh with an obscene ‘pop’. “Patience.” His fingers trail up my thigh and over my core, teasing my entrance with his lithe fingers. “Unless you’re ready to beg?” 

It’s a challenge, like everything else. The urge to give him my pride to satisfy the electric desire I’m not sure I’m capable of bearing. But then I note his tense hold on my thigh. A sign of restraint, of want. 

“And if I want you to beg for me?” I don’t know where the words come from, but they charge the room with potential. 

Something strange crosses his fingers before his lips tilt upwards in a dark way. “Would you like the strength of that? To have someone like me powerless before you?” My face warms. Kirigan leaves a lingering kiss on my thigh before he moves off the bed. I sigh at the loss of contact, but my tired neediness stalls at the sound of his belt coming undone. “I want to see you on your knees.” I sit up carelessly, desperate to obey him. I’m kneeling in front of him in an instant, taking in his length. The size of it has me gaping. “Open your mouth.” 

I take the order more eagerly than I should, but I make no move to take him. This is just another challenge. I keep my eyes on his as I stick my tongue out before licking the bottom of his member all the way up to his tip. The sound he lets out is pure sin. I lick his tip slowly, each motion of my tongue is strategic as I finally place him in my mouth. I hollow my cheeks, moving up and down slowly. 

The pace is not enough for him, he grips my hair from my scalp as he thrusts into my mouth. The motion is more powerful than I expected and I am left unable to breathe. My slight gag does the opposite of discourage him, he repeats the motion again and again, pushing himself into me until I can feel him in my throat. 

The sounds he lets out are a chorus to me, but it’s not enough. I need more control, I need a way to make him beg. I raise a hand, wrapping it around the base that I cannot fit into my mouth. I stroke him once slowly, making a point as I try to push myself back in order to make him want me more. 

He groans again. I make a point of pushing myself off of him. Precum protrudes his tip. I lick it off of him slowly. I lick up and down his member in the smallest way possible. 

“Y/n,” the restraint in his voice fuels my teasing, “Tease me and you’ll still be overwhelmed by want when the sun rises.” 

A pout tugs at my lips before I open my mouth again, taking Kirigan to my limit. He lets me set the pace of my bobs at first, but then he becomes desperate, holding me in place by the roots of my hair as he moans and thrusts into me without restraint. He ignores my choking as he continues until he throws his head back, letting out a quick praise of my name.

He finishes in my mouth and I swallow all he offers me greedly. I back off my knees slowly, throat burning as his member leaves my mouth. “On the bed.” He’s turned into something insatiable. “Now.” 

I move back to my bed, laying in the same position as before. He takes his time approaching me. When he finally gets to me, he kisses my thighs easily. I let out a small breath before something that’s pure pleasure meets my core. His tongue laps upwards lazily, grazing my clit but not quite touching it.  My hips thrust towards his face, but with hand he holds me down. A coil in my stomach continues to build as he angles himself more purposefully, tongue finally taking care of my clit. My gasps become less and less reasonable as he continues to lap at all that my body has to offer. The coil tightens, I see stars–and then, like cruelty personified, he pulls away. His absence leaves me ready to cry out. 

My desperation only fuels Kirigan as he lines himself with my entrance. Concern twists my stomach as I consider how full my mouth felt when he was in me. I expect some level of warning, but he thrusts into me with no warning. I let out a pathetic cry, but that means nothing to him as he pulls out just to thrust into me with full force again.

“Only I can hurt you,” he demands, thrusting into me as I call out his name. My eyes water at the sensation of such fullness, pleasure and pain combining themselves in a way that leaves me incapable of thought. “Your tears,” he muses, one hand moving to wipe at a tear rolling down my cheek, “Are mine.” 

His thrusts become more and more brutal, less and less even. Each movement of his body in mine leaves me begging for more and less at the same time. He continues until the coil in my stomach tenses to the point of breaking. 

“Kirigan,” I manage, voice far away, “I’m going t–”

“I know,” he offers, “finish with me, dove.” His hand finds my throat, adding the slightest bit of restrained pressure. “And do not hold in your cries.” 

Two more sharp thrusts have us both finishing, calling out for each other as we try to draw out the high of our orgasms together. 

We stay intertwined like that for longer than we should, but then Kirigan stands. I envy his ability to do so. I don’t call for him even though I still don’t want to be alone here. A moment later, I hear him approach. I’m too drowsy to ask what he’s doing as a damp towel is wiped against my forehead and inner thighs. 

When he’s finished cleaning me, some raw emotion settles in my chest. “Are you leaving?” 

Kirigan hesitates. “Not if you don’t want me to.” 

I roll over, the motion leaves my body aching. Kirigan accepts my invitation, crawling beneath my sheets and adjusting our bodies so that he can rest his hand on my back. 

–

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