YES YES YES THANK YOU!

To all of you reblogging in these times of fandom tumbleweeds and low engagement… you are doing us content creators a solid and we appreciate you beyond words 😍😁😍😁

idc, I headcanon that all the fictional men I simp for have breeding kinks😌

OH MY GOODNESS THIS WAS JUST PERFECTION??? I LOVE LOVE LOVE IT

while we untangle

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader (implied Marc Spector x F!Reader) Wordcount: 2.9K Warnings: Explicit AF. SMUT. DID. Wounds. Oral. CUM eating. Sry. Summary: Things happen to Steven. He ends up with dates he doesn’t remember making. He finds his fridge full and fishes with two fins. There is an attractive woman inches from him and he should just shut up and take it as a sign from God or Gods. Whatever. A/N: wow i wrote this instead of working on wys because i hate myself. title from Rufus Du Sol's No Place. i know vague shiz about moon knight but this is my current headcanon of marc being aware of steven and steven just doing his best (lmao). idk if this is really spoilery.

Steven doesn’t quite recall when he started dating you. He does not remember how it happened. You just appear and he simply goes with it because you’re soft and warm and you call him by his name.

It’s a little like magic. He falls asleep and wakes up and you’re there.

“Hi,” you murmur by the side of his bed. His body is aching. His shoulder is screaming. He feels his bones bunching up against the thin shell of his skin.

“What?” He shakes his head. “Who-?”

Their first conversation (that he remembers) is just fragments of words. It is a series of cut-off questions.

Who? What? Where?

You lean forward so quickly he nearly misses it. A flash of your hair and your eyes glittering like fish scales in the blue dawn light. You touch his jaw and use your other hand to comb his sweat-damp curls back from his brow. He wants to say something because he feels naked in front of you - this stranger in his sweats and one of his t-shirts.

Who are you? Who are you?

Instead, he says: “I’m sorry…I didn’t expect guests. I would have cleaned…”

He would have. He would have made an effort. You smile at him and that’s when he notices the gash at your hairline. The strange bruising along your collarbone.

“Did we…?” he finally asks because why else would a girl be in his apartment - at his bedside. Your lips quirk and you shake your head.

“I’m - do we know each other?”

He really shouldn’t press his luck. Things happen to Steven. He ends up with dates he doesn’t remember making. He finds his fridge full and fishes with two fins. There is an attractive woman inches from him and he should just shut up and take it as a sign from God or Gods. Whatever.

“In a way,” you hum as you stretch your arms above your head. Your joints crack and that cut on your forehead beads with blood. A few hours later, he will notice that it’s gone. He will notice that marks on you never last longer than a day.

“In a way?” he echoes. He is lost in this conversation just as he is lost in most conversations. Everyone seems about five feet ahead of him at all times.

“Yes - in a way, but,” You shoot your hand out and grasp his own tightly. He notices his palm is covered in raven-black grease and you don’t seem to mind. “I suppose we should meet formally.”

You tell him your name and he repeats it - rolls it around over his tongue like a smooth marble. His accent is thick and often too chewy in his mouth. He doesn’t know why he even uses the term “accent” because shouldn’t it just be his voice? His tone. His.

He feels like he’s trying to shove himself through a narrow hole. Nothing fits.

***

He starts waking up with you - coming to with you - in weird places. One time, he’s restocking mugs etched with incorrect hieroglyphics and the next thing he knows he’s coughing up blood on a rain-soaked street. It’s thundering. The clouds spiderweb with lightning. There’s the smell of wet leaves and garbage and a neon Exit sign is blinking above him.

“Marc! Help me out here.” You’re a few feet away punching the hell out of a man in back. There’s a splash of blood. It splatters over your nose and chin. You’re in this tight suit that shimmers grey-blue in the rain. Weird. When your eyes meet his, you suddenly grimace. Your expression flits between seemingly concerned and incredibly irritated.

“Who’s Marc?” He rubs his forehead. His teeth feel loose in his mouth. “Wait - where are we?”

Wait. Wait. Wait. He’s always colliding into a disaster or conflict before he can confirm what it is. Where - when - what -

“Fuck,” you growl and then the man you’re fighting socks you right in the temple. You stumble to your knees. Steven doesn’t really think - he doesn’t have to - he rushes forward in some hopeless attempt at protecting you and - well - everything goes black again.

***

He wakes to the tinkling music of a Carnival. He’s got his hands wrapped around a pole with chipped gold paint. There’s a thousand colors blurring into a mosaic of blues and pinks and purples and reds. Yellow as buttered popcorn. Green and copper as scarab beetles. He can taste sugar on his tongue. Cotton candy. His stomach aches.

He looks down and sees the white mane of a wood worse. It’s uncomfortable between his legs. He blinks. He shakes his head.

“You okay?”

He turns to find you sitting - riding - next to him. You’re straddling a unicorn, which oddly seems fitting since he’s about 67% certain you don’t exist. There’s an unreadable expression on your face. A strange transformation. You go from cheerful to anxious and he feels as if he has interrupted something. You bite your lip and reach for his hand. You thread your fingers together as the carousel picks up speed - as it circles and whirs like a cyclone.

That terrifying, obnoxious jingle of music.

“Hi Steven,” you tell him, which he doesn’t understand. Why are you greeting him when you’ve obviously been with him for a while. Are they on a date? This must be a date. Did he drink? He swears it was 4 PM last he checked, but the sky is black-navy. Violet and midnight.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters as he clings to the pole with one hand as you hold onto the other. He leans his too-hot temple against the wet-cold surface of it. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know what else to say.

***

His eyes flutter open and it’s day again. The midafternoon sun peeks through his heavy blinds. You’re sitting next to him - hunched over like a curled C. One of his heavy mythology books in your lap. You’re reading about Isis and Osiris and he wonders if all his pieces are scattered over the Earth. It would make sense. It would honestly be a relief. An explanation.

There’s a white bandage around your arm with old blood staining half of it. It’s practically brown. He sniffs a metallic tang in the air along with the harsh scent of antiseptic.

He lifts himself up gingerly. More soreness. More agony in his back and the constant headache that thumps at the center of his forehead. He leans into you out of reflex, his chest brushing your shoulder. He touches your arm - drags his finger down the bandage.

“I didn’t do that did I?” He can’t trust himself. He doesn’t know anything. He loses days and nights and you are the only constant in his life. The one unmoved variable.

You twist around to look at him. You’re visibly exhausted. He wonders when you sleep because he’s never seen you do it.

“No,” you assure him. They’re so close that your breath fans over his lower lip. They’re dating and they aren’t. “Dating” is the only word he has for it because he wakes up and you’re in his room or literally in his bed. Sometimes you haul him to a restaurant or coffee shop.

Eat, Steven. You’re very pale.

They’ve never kissed though. They’ve never done anything beyond you looping your arm through his as you take him around London. He hadn’t realized it until now, but every errand they go on has been for his benefit.

You need more shampoo. You need another jacket. You need to get your haircut. Do you want another fish so he has a friend?

You let him talk to you. You let him vomit his words all over you because he has no one else. His mum’s voicemail. His mirror. His mind. One minute, he’s spilling his guts to a living statue and the next he’s spilling his guts to you.

And you respond. You nod and agree or disagree or drop your chin into your hand and listen intently. You laugh when he says something he actually meant to be funny.

“You’re such a weirdo,” you tease in between sips of coffee. It makes his lungs expand to the point he can finally get a full breath in. He is wide awake.

He shifts on the bed. The springs squeak. His sheets are scratchy and he notices there are granules of sand in the folds of linen. Bloody hell and all that.

There’s a wrinkle between your brows as you watch him watch you. You don’t avert your gaze like so many others do when he makes them uncomfortable. He can’t help it. He forgets himself sometimes. You’re different. You meet his stare straight-on.

His voice is low and urgent when he finally asks: “Why do you take care of me?”

You suck your lower lip between your teeth. It turns a color and he has to stop himself from swiping it with his tongue - from digging his thumb into the flesh. “I promised someone I would.”

He should question that. Who?

You know who.

The voices have returned. Swelling and shivering at the back of his head. They distract him. Solid. Tempting.

You know her mouth. You’ve tasted it before just not as you. You’ve had her. You’ve felt her. She’s ours.

He doesn't know what to do. He’s aware of his own awkwardness. He’s aware that he often misses social cues even though a large part of him seems to understand them. He just can’t get there.

“Steven,” you whisper like a secret - like their secret - every fucking letter deliberate and compassionate.

He wants to feel this.

He surges forward and kisses you. His body does it before his brain even catches up. He grips the hinge of your jaw and crushes his mouth to yours. You squeak in surprise before relaxing - before allowing him to cradle your cheeks between his hands and continue.

It feels familiar.

His lips move against your lips. His tongue traces your tongue - teasing and caressing and it subtly changes from sweet and careful to frantic and dirty. Your hand is on his chest - right where his heart thumps. He scrapes his teeth over your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. He makes a demanding sound and pulls you closer.

He senses that he’s been at this threshold a thousand times previously. He has to move forward. He knows the steps. He needs to take you - plant himself inside you where he’d be safe. He’s been safe.

His hand palms the crown of your skull. He tilts your head to deepen the kiss. You respond gracefully - your own fingers now locked in his t-shirt. They trade kisses in his dusty room with all of his old books and white-noise sound machines and cheap cutlery. You sigh into his mouth - your breasts crushed against his chest. Your heart. His heart. Pound for pound. Sharing a rhythm. How much would they weigh? The bandage on your arm chafes the inside of his bicep.

You shiver and it surprises him - the fact that he’s capable of arousing such a sensation out of you. He wants to go further.

He wedges himself between your legs. He doesn’t know entirely what he’s doing and yet he does. He’s had to have done something like this before. Maybe, at school. His twenties? He should know though no distinctive memories come to mind. No images of teenage lust in a backseat or fumblings in a dark theater.

Still - he appears to be getting it. Gestures before thoughts. It’s like the act itself is already written on his bones - taped somewhere in his mind with instruction.

At some point, they get naked.

You are spread out on his pillows and he uses his hands to open your thighs. He watches your cunt - shiny and pretty in the afternoon light. There are bruises on your hips - along your ribs. He wants to ask, but doesn’t.

You already know, Steven. You saw her get them last night. Fighting. You have some too.

That voice that’s like his voice, but not.

He slips his fingers against the seam of your folds - nudging between them and watching the effect it has on you. He thrusts to the knuckle before twisting his hand so he can press his thumb to the peak of your sex. You’re so wet and hot and each jerk of his fingers makes you tighter. The repetitive clench of your walls as he eases you through it. The push of slick more erotic than anything he’s ever even dreamt of.

“Oh,” you moan softly. “Oh - shit.”

“I-I think - is that alright?” he stammers - his chest tight - his cock so hard that it juts against his stomach.

You nod furiously. You open your arms to him - come come come - be with me. He goes - capturing your mouth - tongue warm as it slides over yours in a desperate, messy tangle. Your hand circles his cock, grasping him tenderly. You stroke him slow as he fucks into your palm. He kisses you. He kisses your throat - your breasts - your cheeks. You lead him - let him in - and then the head of his cock is rubbing right up against your pussy. It’s furiously hot - making slick sounds as it slips through the seam of swollen flesh.

You stare up at him, lips twitching and kiss-bruised. He keeps his eyes fastened to your face as he sinks in too quickly. You stretch around him - nails digging into his shoulders. Your mouth parting. Oh - it’s like this.

You feel like home. You feel like him. He knows this. He knows the wet clutch of your sex around him. Vice-like. Murderous. He rocks down and you glide with him. He draws back until he’s nearly out of you before snapping forward - punching a moan from your lungs. A push and pull. He tilts his hips and you follow - knowing the ebb and flow of his movements like you’ve done this before. You fist a hand into his curls as you nip his jaw. There is the loud liquid suck of your body greedily accepting his cock again and again. It’s so crude that he can’t quite believe it.

“Steven - fuck,” and now he is acting without thought. He is allowing the insides of himself to take over. It’s like a dance that he is watching from a step away, but oh he feels every second of it. He savors the soaked clasp of your cunt. The smell of your sweat and your hair and your lush skin as it slaps against his.

You shove him away and he groans as he rears back on his heels. His pleasure is dismantled. It is interrupted. You rise up on your knees and kiss him hungrily - nearly swallowing his tongue before you turn around. You get on all fours - your grip taut around the bed frame. His gaze traces the lines of your body - the curve of your ass that hitches into his hip bones and fitting snug.

You know what to do. You’ve done it before. Our girl likes it like this.

Ours. Ours. Ours.

That voice unbearably deep and vibrating with power. It’s like heartburn in his chest - bubbling up his throat.

This is for you, Steven. Trust us. Trust us.

He takes himself in hand and guides it back into your spread, dripping cunt. He bottoms out and you respond beautifully - a fragile wisp of a sob as you blossom around the length of him. You bury your forehead into his pillow. You bite the blanket.

Steven has never been able to keep quiet, but now he is out of words. He grunts low, rumbling noises and sometimes: oh god - fuck - so good -

He hopes that it’s enough for you to realize that this is everything he’s ever wanted. This true connection when he’s always felt like he’s living behind glass. He’s grateful.

He reaches around to pluck at your clit - something he wouldn’t have known to do or hadn’t done before and yet he does. It’s imprinted. The second he touches the swollen nub of it, you seize up like you’ve been electrocuted - pleasure ringing through your veins and limbs and he meets it by grinding deeper into you and there are filthy words flying from your lips in heaving, breathless whimpers and Steven blushes bright red because he can’t quite believe he’s done this with you - even as his cock spits inside you - even as he fills you to the brim without wasting a drop. When he eases himself out, there is his own pearly seed sliding down the backs of your thighs. It seeps between your swollen folds, dripping onto his comforter, which he will never wash again -

He touches it with his fingers - mesmerized. The voice in his head is throaty and smug: do it, Steven. I know you want to. She’ll love it.

He listens. He flips you onto your back - mouthing at your throat and tits before he travels downward. He forces your knees apart and buries his face between your legs - lapping and sucking and devouring what he has done to you. You arch up - hips jerking against his face. His nose hooked enough to deliberately scrape against your clit as he licks from your fucked-open pussy.

You cry out, yanking at his curls until it stings and he’s sure he’s missing patches of hair. He won’t let up. He latches and remains there - his hands now under your ass as he lifts the bowl of your pelvis up - like a platter - like an offering to the Gods - overflowing with nectar - a ritual -

He’ll repeat it. Day in and day out. He will perform this.

His skin burns with arousal. A fever. You know it’s him doing what he’s doing as he feasts - as he suckles his own come from your sex. He does not know this and yet he does. Another lifetime perhaps. Another yesterday. All of his memories are wrapped in plastic and yellowed with age. Opaque. Potentially not his. But this is clear. This he is sure to remember.

He knows. He knows. He knows this and there aren’t any lost hours between them. It is one long day and one long night of this tryst where he doesn’t wake up with a broken jaw or bleeding gums. He does not question your presence or why his fish die or why you care enough to keep him alive when no one else seems to notice him. He’s Steven and you call him by that name.

Mando: can you ride?

You, looking him up and down: yes.

Mando, blushing: I meant the speeder.

I should be working on my brat taming request, but I was thinking about miguel being needy to eat you out and I wrote smth that will be up very soon :)

Yknow I never thought that I’d cry reading smut, yet here we are😭

Sleeping With A Friend

summary: You wake up in Bucky’s bed after a night you’re certain will only break your heart.  pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.6k warnings: smut (18+), idk no real other warnings this time folks, two love sick idiots pining for one another?  a/n: this was written for @fvckingavengers​​’s quarantine writing challenge ! I had the prompt of Sleeping With A Friend by Neon Trees ✨

And why mess up a good thing baby? / It’s a risk to even fall in love So when you give that look to me / I better look back carefully ‘Cause this is trouble / Yeah, this is trouble I’m scared but if my heart’s gonna break / Before the night will end I said, ooh ooh / We’re in danger / Sleeping with a friend

You’re woken by a glimpse of sunlight as it streams in through the bedroom window. It escapes through the sliver between the curtains and you tuck your face into the crook of something warm. Still, it eclipses over your shoulder and you grunt a little as it seeps beyond closed lids and beckons you awake; gentle, at first, but there’s something in its presence as your eyes flutter open that exposes the room around you.

You feel it as you lift your head from the comfort of a broad, bare shoulder, as the delicate touch of a hand slips off your spine and falls to the mattress – a pang of regret. It boils deep down into your stomach. It takes a swift hold of you as your heart starts to race and you glimpse down to the face of a man you’d loved almost as long as you’d known him. A man you’d sworn off, a man who occupied the entirety of your heart and soul and still, always at an arm’s length.

Keep reading

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

_

_

this is a lil thot here but excuse you the breeding kink and baby fever go brrr.. anyways imagine mickey like finding out you want kids and then going FERAL. i just- that image in my head is one i am PROUD of creating

But it is an IMPORTANT thot. This awakened something, I think. A lil nsfwish so 18+, and there's a cut. (Reference to their conversation about what they'd name their kids from "swallow you like sunshine") ahoy, ahoy this became a whole thing --

--

so deep in love with you (baby love) [mickey “fanboy” garcia x fem!civilian!reader, aka “cielo”]

Word Count: 1.3k (always a nerd, never a blurb) of nerves, honey-sweetness, and the eternity of love’s promise

Warnings: hints of smut, fingering, breeding kink (obvi) and comeplay. mildest of mild hints of choking. 18+, please.

Why were you so nervous?

No, seriously, why were you nervous? You and Mickey had had this conversation before. There was no reason for you to be this anxious, sitting silently during the dinner he had made for you, twirling spaghetti around your fork endlessly.

If Mickey found your silence disquieting, he had the good grace not to say anything, eyeing you with those bourbon-honey swirled eyes of his that drove you absolutely crazy.

You could do this. This is Mickey you were talking to. Mickey, who had stood in front of the censor so the sliding door at the grocery store stayed open while you tried not to slip in a puddle on your way in. Mickey, who wraps his hands around you and puts them in the pouch pocket of your hoodie while you wait for movie tickets. Mickey, who brought you coffee in bed this morning. Mickey, who plays with Bob's kids, talks to them like they're adults, and excitedly talks too fast when he spills to you all the new facts he's learned about cuttlefish after spending an afternoon with them.

You could tell him this.

"Ehm," you cleared your throat, putting down your fork that had a veritable hive of spaghetti twirled to the end of it by now. "M?" You ventured, waiting for his eyes to meet yours across the table before continuing.

"Yeah, Cielo?" He must sense your nerves. He put his fork down, too, waiting patiently for you to continue.

You cast your eyes down the smear of red sauce across your plate that looked vaguely like a bloated bear before, murmuring,

"Ithinkimreadytotry," you rushed.

Mickey cocked his head to the side, eyes swimming with questions, "Sorry?" He asked.

"I think," you exhaled, tilting your jaw to boldly (in your opinion) meet your husband's eye. "I think I'm ready? To start, you know, trying? Only if you are, I mean, I know you leave again soon, so we don't have a ton of time, and it doesn't have to be now, but I'm ready if you're ready and I just wanna have a baby with you, if that's cool--" you rambled, cutting yourself off when you saw Mickey's eyes widen, his hand reaching over the table to press his finger gently over your lips, rendering you silent.

"Baby," he chuckled. "A baby?"

You nodded, slumping back in your seat, deflated, at the toll your rant had taken on your body.

Mickey eyed you again, seemingly not eager to respond.

He nods, pushing his chair back and standing up, making his way around the table and over to you.

"So," he reaches for you, beckoning you up from your seat with the gentle tug of his warm arm around your waist. "Which one do we try for first, hm?" He asks as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, lips trailing the thrumming pulse along the column of your throat. "Vero or Valencia, boy or girl?"

Without giving you a chance to respond, Mickey hoists you over his shoulder, carrying you through the threshold to the living room, gently depositing you on the couch. You gasped at the feel of his fingers tugging at the waistband of your leggings, seemingly perpetually warm, something that emanates from him, tried and true.

And Mickey barely lets you get a word in edgewise, as you open your mouth to respond, he fuses his lips to yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth as his fingers continue to tug your leggings down your legs.

Like a heatwave on a summer's day, Mickey had overwhelmed you, sunshine and molten gold, his hips now rolling into yours on the couch.

"W-wait," you pushed his shoulders, his lips separating from yours, flushed, kiss-bitten, and honeyed. "Now?!"

"You just gave this whole spiel about how we don't have a ton of time," Mickey reasoned, his fingers trailing to your waist as he rolled his hips into yours again, causing you to buck at the feel of him through his sweatpants. "Why not now?"

"M!" You swatted his bicep lightly with the back of your hand, "I haven't showered today. I'm wearing ratty old leggings, for god's sake. I look a mess!"

Mickey hmm'd, a purring little hum of dissent lodged in his throat, like a perpetually displeased jungle cat.

"Agree to disagree, amor," he eyed you as though you were the meal he had been enjoying moments ago.

"First of all," he presses a kiss to your throat, one hand coming up to follow it, fingers lightly wrapping their way around your neck as he feels the effect he has on you in the blood rushing through your veins, beneath his fingers, heated and heady. "You aren't wearing your leggings ... Anymore."

He presses a kiss to your lips, following the gentle gesture with an intentional scraping of teeth, a little bite to his bark.

"Second of all," his other hand at your waist now slips between you to feel the now-soaked lace at the very center of you, plucking it aside to allow him to stroke the seam of your cunt, his touch causing your lips to part in a gasp, your eyes to flutter closed. "You look hot as fuck. Always do."

With that, Mickey slips a finger inside of you, pleased at the feel of your heated walls around him as he plays you to an unheard rhythm, rolling his thumb over your clit. Eagerly swallowing your breathy little moans as he kisses you through his attentions.

"M'gonna fuck you, Cielo," he murmurs, the heat of his body leaving yours as he rocks back on the couch to shuck his sweatpants down. "Gonna give you a baby. Gonna make you come first, though..."

"I want that," you sigh, twining your fingers through the curls you know will be shorn once he leaves, eager to tug, eager to capitalize. Eager to make him yours. "Want everything with you."

...

Later in the night, Mickey takes in the serenity of your features bathed in the white-blue glow of the television as you two take in "The Empire Strikes Back" with unseeing eyes, exhausted and high off of each other. He had put on the movie and grabbed you a chocolate bar after round ... Three, was it?

And he didn't know if it would take right away, really. But he was hell-bent on trying, having fucked you into the couch until you'd forgotten your own name, pushing his release back into you when he had withdrawn, fingers gently sweeping along your opening to urge you through another orgasm, while keeping his spend inside of you.

Now, he's admiring you, the curve of your waist. Imagining the way your stomach will swell someday, the genesis of your collective devotion.

So, really, he doesn't know what compels him to tell you, but he says it anyway --

"You know," your eyes meet his at his words, lips curled in a sweet, sleepy smile, encouraging him to continue. "If you get pregnant this year, Javy owes Payback twenty bucks."

"Excuse me, what?!" You cock an eyebrow at him, seated on your elbows the better to take in what your husband had just said.

"Ehm, yeah," Mickey was sheepish now, scrubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "They were teasing, you know how they are... And, well, I know that I've got it in me, so really, I don't know what they were trying to imply. Just giving me shit, I think."

You put your hand up to silence your husband, biting back a chuckle as you clarify,

"M, do you mean to tell me you wagered with your co-workers about how soon you could knock me up?"

And Mickey, expert at reading you though be was, was grasping to tell whether you were amused or upset. It's a fine line to walk, sometimes, truly...

"Uh, yeah, I guess I did..." He trailed off, glancing at you with apologetic doe eyes.

A laugh bubbled from your lips, a tipsy little thing, telling champagne bubbles as you laughed at your husband's ridiculous antics, tugging him toward you, and pressing your lips to his.

"Claro. C'mon then, daddy," you murmur, kissing him with each word. "We've gotta get Reuben that money."

--

tagging some fanboy girlies (so sorry): @joaquinwhorres @withahappyrefrain @thegirlwhowritesfics  @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @moonlight-prose  @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @justalonelyslytherin @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboysfangirl @siriusfahey @the-navistar-carol @jadore-andor @fanboygarcia @lavenderluna10 @thedaredevilsgirl @fluffyprettykitty @mickeyluvs @mothdruid  @maxmayfield @eagerforthesky @callmemana @mxgyver  @andrewrussgarfield @bioodforbiood  @the-purity-pen @luxuryberzatto @liz-allyn

WEREWOLF RHETT‼️🔊🔊🔊

i smile at the moon | rhett abbott

description: in which two wild souls become knit together as one

warnings: 18+ only, werewolves, violence, animals fighting, perry abbott slander, mentions of death, family drama, mentions of blood, smut, breeding kink, unprotected sex (basically a mating ritual lol), possessiveness, creampie, biting, scratching, all around animalistic themes

pairing: werewolf!rhett abott x f!werewolf!reader

notes: yeah so this started out as me wanting to write naughty werewolf smut and then it turned into a 10k+ word story complete with my own werewolf lore. thanks to @lovinglyeternal bc they basically created this monster by sending me a werewolf rhett concept. you are responsible for my insanity ;-)

He could smell you. 

Each inhale of your scent was intoxicating. Stronger and sweeter than anything he’d ever smelled before. Citrusy, in a way. Warm and spicy like a hot cider. 

All his life he’d been told that the scent of one’s mate was unique and indescribable. The most wonderful, appealing, all-consuming scent. Before he found you, he’d tried to imagine what it would smell like. His mama’s brown butter chocolate cookies, fresh out of the oven? Cotton candy, from the county fair? The comforting sweetness that hung in the air of his favorite childhood ice cream shop?

However, all of those scents paled in comparison to you. It hit him like a freight train the first time he met you. His knees went weak, his spine tingled as if he’d been struck by a bolt of white-hot lightning. It hit you just as hard, overwhelming your every sense. At that very moment, both of you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you were made for each other. The Fates had brought you together and your bond would never be severed. 

You would never forget that first meeting in the woods. You were part of a neighboring pack. New to the region, having recently migrated from your old home because tensions between your pack and a rival one had grown to concerning levels. 

To avoid a full-blown war, your pack had moved out west, hoping to start fresh. And a fresh start was exactly what you found. But little did you know that it would also lead you to find the one you were destined for. 

You met him the day his pack came to make a formal introduction and welcome you to the region. The Northeast Wyoming pack was comprised of the Abbott family descendants. 

However, the pack was not as great as it had once been. What used to dominate the entire northeastern region of Wyoming had been reduced to a very small family of wolves. Royal, the alpha. His wife Cecelia. Their son, Perry; the eldest and next in line for alpha status, and their younger son, Rhett. Finally, there was Amy, Perry’s young daughter. 

Rumor had it Perry once had a wife, but she’d ultimately left the pack and chosen to become an omega. Or, so you’d heard. 

When you heard the pack was coming to welcome you to the area, you had no idea what to expect. These were potential allies, but if something went wrong, they could very quickly become your enemy. You hoped it wouldn’t come to that. You were tired of fighting and wanted nothing more than to finally enjoy a season of peace. 

Little did you know that you were about to meet the one you would mate with for life. 

They came at sunset, bearing gifts. Food for your table. Good bottles of wine. They even brought a few toys for some of the small children in your pack.

Cecelia did most of the talking. She was warm and friendly and gave you a hearty welcome, informing you that she was so happy to have new neighbors in the region, and was looking forward to rebuilding the community they’d lost over the years. 

Silently, you wondered why their pack was so small. Yours had nearly twenty members. Theirs had five. Perry had a child, an heir, already. Which left Rhett, the only one who hadn’t furthered the bloodline yet.

Of the whole family, he was the last one to arrive that night. Royal made an offhanded comment about him always being late, and how he was just being lazy. The comment rubbed you the wrong way. Especially since Rhett wasn’t even there to defend himself. You didn’t even know the man, but you already felt a strange sense of protectiveness toward him. 

Odd, you thought. But instead of dwelling on it, you simply turned and joined the rest of your pack, ready for the evening’s festivities to begin. 

Rhett arrived a little while later. A rickety old GMC Sierra pulled into the gravel driveway, and it caught your attention. You glanced over to see a young man climbing out of the driver’s side. You couldn’t quite see his face yet, but you could tell he was handsome. 

That’s when you caught it. The breeze blew in your direction, and a scent unlike anything you’d ever smelled before filled your entire being. Deep and musky, like pine and woodsmoke, yet sharp and fresh, like the air after a rainfall. 

It pulled the deepest of gasps from you, and you dropped the stack of plates you’d been carrying out of the house for the outdoor supper. You vaguely heard your mother calling your name, asking what was wrong, but you hardly registered it. Without another thought, your legs were moving of their own accord, carrying you straight for the brunette-haired man walking up the lane. 

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a figure quickly approaching. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. It was the scent. Sweet and spicy and delicious. He tensed, his eyes widening as his nostrils flared slightly. He’d never been hit with something so strong and irresistible. Suddenly his world was spinning off its axis as he realized what this meant. 

His heart began to pound in his chest. His palms grew clammy. His knees went weak. And then, suddenly, you were in front of him, eyes glowing yellow, bright as the sun, and he thought he was going to suffocate right then and there as the breath left his lungs. 

You weren’t sure who moved forward first. But all at once you were in each other’s space, like two lovers reunited after years apart. 

Rhett leaned in and pressed his nose to the side of your neck, breathing in deeply. You buried your face against his chest and inhaled sharply. This was customary for wolves. Especially ones mated to each other, to greet one another by taking in the other’s scent.

When you parted, you realized that his eyes were glowing, too. 

“It’s you,” he whispered, awestruck. His chest heaved. He could hardly take in oxygen. 

You barely knew what to do with yourself. You were so overwhelmed that all you could do was stare at him, drinking him in. The one you had dreamed of since you were small. Your hands lifted of their own accord, and you ran them over his face. Down his neck. Across his chest. Feeling that he was in fact real and that this wasn’t a dream. 

Then, when you found your voice, you breathlessly spoke. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.” 

Rhett finally found the breath he needed, and a disbelieving laugh brushed past his parted lips. He could hardly believe his eyes. Here you were, standing before him. The one he thought he’d never meet. He’d been certain that he was cursed to go through life without a mate. Yet here you were, standing in front of him, and an all-consuming sense of elation buzzed through him, like fizzy champagne in his veins.

You watched as he took a step back, his boots crunching against gravel as he threw his head back, face turned to the sky. He took a deep breath and let out a deep wolf howl, sounding through the wilderness. It echoed off the trees and it shook you to your core.

You couldn’t help the laughter that began to pour from your mouth. Laughter of disbelief. Laughter of joy. Laughter of love. “It’s you!” You repeated his own words from moments prior, still laughing, so happy you could barely contain it. 

He looked back at you, his eyes, back to a thrilling and human blue, framed by smile lines as he grinned at you. His howl had alerted the rest of your pack, and his own, and moments later, they were all gathering in the clearing to see what was going on.

You grabbed Rhett’s hand, holding it up high as your fingers intertwined. “I’ve found him!” You cried. “I’ve found my mate!”

That night, what had started as a friendly dinner between new neighbors turned into a celebration that lasted well into the night. It was a joyous occasion, to find one’s mate, deserving of an extravagant celebration. 

You swore you didn’t stop smiling for the entire night. The realization that in a moment of divine fate, you had met the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. Your soulmate. The half to your whole. Suddenly, all the strife that you’d gone to just to get to this point seemed all worth it. Because now, here was this beautiful man beside you, rugged but gentle, with kind eyes and a shy smile. And he was everything you’d dreamed he would be. 

Your families gave you time alone that night, and you walked beneath the light of the half moon, side by side, straying away from all the activity to find a quiet spot. 

You sat in a clearing in the woods and you talked for hours. You told Rhett all about your pack, and the unrest that had forced you to move all the way out here to Wyoming. You spoke of each pack member with such reverence and respect, and it sent a pang of envy through him. 

He revealed to you that he did not have the most positive relationship with his family. 

“We’ve, uh, we’ve been through some shit, the last few years. It’s put a strain on the pack. ‘specially my relationship with my brother.” He gazed out across the expanse of the woods, and in the silver light of the moon, you saw a sadness in his eyes. “His wife Rebecca left him and Amy. He didn’t take it very well.”

“That’s sad,” you whispered sympathetically. “Do you know why she left?”

Rhett’s eyes remained trained toward the distance, and you didn’t miss the way his jaw tensed. “Don’t tell my folks I said this, but he ran ‘er off. I saw it comin’ from a mile away, but everybody else seemed blindsided when she wound up running for the hills.”

“Were they mates?” You questioned. 

“Nah. Perry said they were, but they weren’t. He didn’t want to wait to find his mate. Went against pack customs just so he could have Rebecca for his own. She went along with it at first. Even had a baby with him. But when I tell you I ain’t never seen a more unhappy woman in my life. She was a nice gal but she was fuckin’ miserable with my brother. Eventually it got so bad that she up and left. Didn’t even take Amy with her, that’s how bad things were,” he explained. 

Your eyes widened at the thought. You’d always been told that the bond between mama wolves and their pups was unmatched, running deeper than even the lowest depth of the sea. For one to just up and leave her baby was unheard of. It made you shudder to think just how terrible things must have been to push Rebecca away like that. 

You shook your head. “Poor Amy.”

Rhett hummed in agreement. “Her mama’s been gone a year now. She’s adapted okay, but she seems kinda lonely. Kids at school can’t relate to her because they ain’t wolves like she is.”

“I guess it really was fate that brought us here then, huh? All my little cousins will befriend her, she won’t have to worry about feeling as alone anymore.”

He smiled softly, glancing at you. “Sure am thankful to that Fate fella. I’ll have to thank him if I ever meet him face to face. Thank him for bringin’ you to me.”

It was your turn to smile, and you turned your face away, hiding the shy glimmer that lit up your eyes. But Rhett reached out, hooking his fingers under your chin and turning your face back toward him. “I know we’ve got some more formalities to go through before we’re joined together, but I want you to know that right here, right now, I’m pledgin’ myself to you and only you for the rest of my life.”

You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply again, letting his intoxicating scent wash over you once more. “And I pledge myself to you,” you replied. 

Your gaze remained fixed on his own, and his hand shifted, moving to cup your cheek. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back up to your own eyes, as if asking permission. You gave the tiniest of nods, and he leaned in, so close you could almost taste him. 

Until, suddenly, a sharp whistle sounded through the woods. You broke apart abruptly, and Rhett sighed, rising to his feet. “That would be my mama.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Guess we should head back then.”

And so you did, walking hand in hand back to the house. You knew from that moment on that everything was about the change. You would soon begin the ritual of preparing for your wedding, a formality in which your packs would be joined together through your matrimony. Everything you had been dreaming of for your entire life was finally coming true, and it all felt so close, yet so far. 

That night, after you bid goodnight to Rhett, you went to bed with a smile on your face and warmth in your heart. You fell asleep dreaming of the life you would lead together. A future that held many unspoken promises. A home of your own. A growing family that would carry on your bloodline, one of the greatest honors that could be bestowed upon a wolf. 

In the following weeks, much preparation was made. You began the process of getting to know Rhett, spending many nights going on walks, learning the inner workings of one another. And then came the week just before your wedding. A night on which the moon hung low and full-bellied in the sky. The night you shifted beneath the glow of that very moon, sharing the very special and intimate moment of transforming into your wolves.

Rhett’s wolf was deep brown, almost black, with the softest fur you’d ever felt. He was breathtaking, and as you shifted into your own wolf, you found yourself nuzzling into him, letting him know you were there, that you were with him until death did you part. 

And then, finally, your wedding day arrived. It was a beautifully warm day. The sun filtered through the trees and cast dapples of light all over, like rays of magic falling from the sky. You’d kept things simple, as wolf weddings normally were. A crown of flowers placed delicately upon your head. A simple, flowing dress. Bare feet so you could feel the forest floor beneath you.

You stood before Rhett, underneath the swaying leaves of a century-old weeping willow, where you spoke your vows to one another, and joined yourselves, and your packs, as one. 

As you pledged yourself to your mate, you wept tears of joy, and when he kissed you, so tenderly and reverently, you held onto him tightly, as if he might disappear if you let go. Now that you’d found him, you never wanted to let him go. 

“I’m yours,” he whispered against your mouth. 

“Forever,” you echoed. 

The celebration that followed was grand. Music and dancing, old folk tales told around a bonfire whose flames seemed to touch the very sky. It was the most wonderful night of your life, and nothing could steal your immense joy away. 

And so, your life together began. Your union brought your families together, and gave the Abbotts a sense of community that they had not previously had. Just as you’d hoped, Amy made friends with the young ones in your pack. Your parents developed a strong connection with Royal and Cecelia. The rest of your family was warm and welcoming. 

As you became integrated with the Abbotts, you made the decision to live on their property. Before you’d even met, Rhett had been in the process of converting the old barn loft into an apartment. It soon became a project that you worked to complete together. A home built with love, filled with love. 

Through that process, while you waited for the apartment to become livable, you took up residence in Rhett’s childhood bedroom. It was small, but it was comfortable, and it smelled like him, your favorite scent in the whole wide world, so you were content. 

Living in the house allowed you to grow closer to his mother, and especially to his niece Amy. Your heart ached for the little girl and all that she had been through. You longed to be a comfort to her if she needed it. And much to your utter joy, she took well to you. 

“I’m happy you’re mated to Uncle Rhett,” she told you in earnest. “I’ve never seen him smile so much before. I can tell he really loves you.”

Her words made your heart warm in your chest. “I’m happy, too,” you replied. 

The girl’s face fell a little as she looked down at the napkins she was folding for the dinner table. “I wish my mama and daddy had looked at each other like that.”

And in an instant, your heart was breaking in your chest. 

The absence of Rebecca Abbott weighed heavily on the entire family. Cecelia still held out hope that she would return. Royal liked to claim that she’d gone and “shacked up with a good-for-nothin’ lowlife.” Perry liked to insist she was going to come back any day and beg for his forgiveness. 

Rhett believed otherwise. “I don’t think she’d ever come back here in a million years. Either she found another pack, or she’s out there still runnin’ around as an omega,” he told you. 

Rhett’s belief that she wasn’t coming back, and Perry’s insistence that she was, often caused tension between the brothers. They both tried to remain civil for Amy’s sake, but it seemed that Perry was only growing more restless as time went on. 

He would get especially agitated just before the full moon. Which was natural for any wolf, but with him, it seemed to increase tenfold. And when his anger and bitterness reached its breaking point, he would take it out on whoever was in his path. Usually, it was Rhett. 

You would never forget the first time you witnessed him blow up at your husband in front of you. There was one thing you were certain of in that very moment: it was going to be the last time he ever did it. 

A perfectly quiet family dinner in the Abbott kitchen was disrupted when the conversation turned to Rebecca. It was Perry who brought her up, claiming that he was certain she would return soon, that he could feel it. 

It was very common for wolves to be able to feel when their mate was near. You always felt Rhett’s presence when you were apart, and it was that much stronger when you were together. 

However, you and Rhett both knew what utter bullshit it was for Perry to claim he could feel her when they weren’t even mates to begin with. And his comment pushed Rhett to react. 

“Quit sayin’ she’s gonna come back. You and I both know she won’t ever come back here again, Per.” The moment he said it, Rhett wished he could take the words back. Not because of his brother, but because of Amy. 

Her wide eyes flickered up from the plate that she’d been staring at. But instead of looking at Rhett, she looked at her father. 

“Is that true, Dad?” She asked, her voice small. 

Perry clenched his jaw as he glared at his brother. “Now look what you did. Got my daughter all upset.”

Rhett sighed. The child needed to hear the truth. “Look, Ames. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. Your mama isn’t coming back.”

Without so much as a warning, Perry shoved his plate away, which bumped his glass of water and sent it spilling across the table. You tensed beside Rhett, afraid of what was coming. 

“Perry!” Cecelia exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at her son’s outburst. 

He stood up from his chair, its wooden legs scraping against the linoleum. “What’d I fuckin’ tell you, Rhett? You’re really gonna upset a little girl like that and rip away the last shred of hope she had left?”

Rhett sighed deeply, shaking his head. “It’s better than you lyin’ to her about it.”

“Fuck you!” He shouted. “Ever since you brought this bitch into our home you’ve been subscribing to her fuckin’ ideals.” He motioned toward you. “She probably put you up to this, didn’t she? Told you to destroy what hope my daughter had left.”

At the derogatory comment directed at you, Rhett shot out of his seat, quick as lightning, his eyes glowing. You followed suit, immediately on the defensive. 

“Alright, enough!” Royal barked. But even his authoritative tone didn’t get the attention of his boys. 

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that!”

“It’s true! She’s fuckin’ changed you, man. Turned you into someone I don’t even recognize.”

“Yeah, she changed me! Into a better man! Which is more than I can say Rebecca ever did for you! Oh wait, that’s because she wasn’t even your mate to begin with!”

“Stop!” Amy cried, already in tears. “Just stop!”

But it was too late. Perry had been pushed over the edge, and before anyone could even register what was happening, he was lunging. Cecelia tried to grab him, but he was too quick, and in seconds, he was crowding Rhett’s space.

But he didn’t get very far. Much to your own surprise, you moved faster than you ever had in your life, placing yourself in front of your husband. Your body burned with the overwhelming desire to protect. Your eyes flashed yellow, and you bared your fangs, growling lowly. 

“Touch him and I’ll drop you right where you stand,” you snarled. 

Perry growled right back at you, his eyes going bright yellow to match your own. You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he made another move toward Rhett, you would go for his throat. 

“Dad, stop,” Amy spoke up. She got up from the table and ran to stand between you both. She let out a little growl of her own, entirely non-threatening, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to see her family fighting. “Please. Everyone just stop! I don’t want you to fight!”

“Listen to your daughter, Perry,” you spoke out. You could feel Rhett against your back, ready to act if need be. 

A beat passed. You held Perry’s gaze, unwilling to back down. Another beat. Then, finally, he surrendered, stepping back. He knew it wasn’t worth it. It was suicide to go up against another wolf’s mate. When it came to protecting what was yours you would fight to the death. Perry seemed to know he wouldn’t stand a chance. 

He had no idea what it was like. He’d never experienced that deep, primal, territorial need to protect. Not with Rebecca. He had it with Amy, but that was different. She was his child, it was natural to protect her. But he had no idea how deep the bonds of two truly mated wolves went. He couldn’t bond with Rebecca in that way because she’d never been his to begin with. 

Rather than fight a losing fight, Perry stalked away that night, leaving the rest of you in the kitchen to process what had just happened. And Amy, who remained in front of you until her father disappeared from the room, finally turned, and rushed into your arms. 

Your heart broke as she began to cry. “I’m sorry!” She whimpered, apologizing for her father’s behavior. 

It only made you angry, because it wasn’t fair that this 9-year-old little one had to apologize for him. You hated all she had been subjected to in her young age. And that was the moment you pledged to always look out for her. If her mama wasn’t going to do it, then you would. And you would do a damn good job of it, too. 

After that night, Perry steered clear of you. He seemed to realize that if he were to ever challenge you, you would kill him. No hesitation. He didn’t stand a chance. Rhett knew that you had his back, and you would always stand by him, even when faced with adversity brought upon him by his own family. 

That protectiveness was a two-way street. Rhett looked out for you just as fiercely as you did him. And while you were busy defending him against his brother, he was going to bat for you against other things. You would never forget the first time you saw him physically defend you. It was seared into your mind like a brand.

You were out on a hike with Amy. It was blackberry season, and she was desperate to pick them while they were perfectly ripe. Her grandmother was too busy with other gardening endeavors to go out into the woods to help her pick wild ones, so you offered to go instead. 

Before the heat of the day grew too overwhelming, the two of you set off, with you leaving a kiss against Rhett’s lips and a promise that you’d be back in time to join him for lunch later that day. Amy was so excited, babbling excitedly the entire hike up into the woods. 

She was fascinated by all things nature, and she knew the area like the back of her hand, so she was well aware of where the very best berries grew. She led you deeper and deeper into the woods until you came upon an entire gathering of sprawling blackberry bushes, ripe for the picking.

“See? I told ya!” She excitedly said, running on ahead of you, her tin bucket swinging in her hands. 

You couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness, quickening your steps so you could catch up with her. What followed was an hour-long blackberry picking process, and after the fact, that bucket was full to the brim with ripe, juicy berries. 

“Grandma’s gonna be so happy! She can make her blackberry preserves! And blackberry pie! And blackberry syrup for pancakes!” She spoke a mile a minute, informing you of all the ways the berries could be used, and how she couldn’t wait for you to try them all. 

However, you found yourself growing distracted when the wind carried a strange scent in your direction. You paused, lifting your head and breathing in deep. Something didn’t feel right. Amy noticed this, and she eyed you curiously. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I smell something,” you replied. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. 

Amy turned, sniffing at the air. Then, suddenly, she gasped. “Cougar,” she said. 

You glanced around. You couldn’t see it, but you could tell the animal was close. You’d never had an encounter with a cougar. While you knew you could hold your own against an animal like that, having Amy in tow only made you nervous that the cougar would try to harm her. Surely it would be able to sense that you were wolves and not normal human beings. But maybe that would only make things worse. 

You wrapped your arm around Amy’s shoulders. “Let’s just go. Maybe it’ll leave us alone.”

But no sooner had you spoken than you heard a bone-chilling growl, and you turned, catching sight of a large cat just ahead of you. Your blood turned to ice in your veins, and on instinct, you pushed Amy behind you, keeping a hand on her as you slowly backed away.

You locked eyes with the cougar, flashing your golden irises, hoping that would be a deterrent. However, the cat only bared its fangs and crouched back on its haunches. Your heart began to hammer in your chest. There was no time to hesitate. 

“The second he jumps, I want you to run,” you told Amy.

“But I don’t wanna leave you!” She exclaimed, trembling with fear. 

“You can’t shift yet. You’re safer running than you are staying here with me,” you emphasized. Amy was just a baby, her wolf hadn’t even made its appearance yet, and even if it had, it would only be a pup. Not strong enough to fight a fully grown cougar. 

“But-” she never had a chance to finish the sentence, because in a flash, the cat was lunging at you. Amy let out a shrill scream that carried through the trees. 

On the Abbott ranch, Rhett’s head snapped up when he heard the scream. He had been hard at work trying to finish up the project of converting the old barn, but at the sound of his niece’s shriek, he dropped the tools he was holding. 

A shock of what felt like electricity rippled through him, and he grunted, realizing that you were in danger. Without a moment’s hesitation, he was running, hyper-focused on the area that the sound had come from. As he ran, his body shifted and transformed, until, moments later, he was no longer a man, but a sleek, black wolf, running fast as the wind. 

In the woods, you were preparing to fight for your life. You physically tossed Amy out of the way so that when the cat landed, it would hit you instead of her. You didn’t even have time to shift into your wolf. Or, rather, white-hot terror blossomed within you when you realized you couldn’t shift. 

Your fangs had elongated and your claws had come out, but your body remained in its human form. And when you realized this, it was too late. 200 pounds of muscle crashed into your chest, sending you back toward the forest floor.

You screamed, growling as threateningly as possible, but it didn’t seem to do much to scare the animal. You thought for certain that this was it, that you were going to die right then and there. But then, in a flash of black fur glinting in the sunlight, an earth-rattling roar ripped through the air, and in a split second, the cat was no longer on top of you.

Gasping sharply, you sat up, eyes wild as you took in the sight before you. There was Rhett in his wolf form, and he had the cougar by the neck. Beside you, Amy let out a sob as she scrambled toward you. You grabbed her, wrapping your arms protectively around her, turning her face away so she wouldn’t have to watch. 

The cat snarled and hissed, clawing at Rhett’s wolf, and it caught him on the side, at which he let out an agonized yelp that made you flinch. But he quickly regained dominance and in seconds, the cat let out an inhuman screech and quickly scrambled away from the wolf, turning to hiss once more before running off, wounded, into the woods, clearly realizing it was not going to win this fight.

Rhett followed after it to make sure it was long gone. In the meantime, Amy was crying against your chest. “Is it gone?!” She whimpered. 

You ran your fingers through her honey-colored hair, soothing her softly, even as your own body still trembled with fear. “Yes, baby. It’s gone.”

She sat upright, glancing around. “Where’s Uncle Rhett?!” Her voice was panicked, terrified.

But you didn’t have to reassure her, for seconds later, the wolf returned. Amy scrambled to her feet and ran to him, falling to her knees as she threw her arms around his neck. The wolf whined lowly as he nuzzled against the girl, sniffing at her to make sure she was unharmed. 

As you approached, he locked eyes with you, and you knelt beside Amy, reaching out to run your hand over his fur. You could tell he was hurt. The slash in his side from the cougar’s claws was bleeding crimson. But he wouldn’t rest until he saw you both to safety.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and he rested his head upon your shoulder before he finally pulled away. He pointed his head toward the trail home, wanting you to follow, and so you did. Amy gathered up her half-spilled bucket of berries, grabbed onto your hand, and followed Rhett’s wolf out of the woods and back toward the house. 

It was only after he made sure that you and Amy were safely returned home that he allowed himself to shift back to his human form. As Cecelia fussed over Amy, Rhett trotted after you into his bedroom upstairs, and as soon as the door was shut, his fur faded away, giving way to pale, smooth skin. Within moments, there was your husband kneeling bare before you, all signs of his animal form gone. 

“Baby,” you breathed, falling to your knees in front of him, reaching your hands up to hold his face. “You’re hurt.” The claw marks along his ribs looked even worse in his human form. 

He shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll heal,” he replied. Then it was his turn to check you over for any harm. “Did that son’bitch hurt you?”

“I…I don’t think so. Just scared me, is all. I couldn’t shift, and by the time I realized that, it was on top of me.”

Rhett’s brow furrowed as he frowned, large hands coming up to rest against either side of your neck. “It’s ‘cause you were scared,” he whispered. “It’s happened to me before. I froze up, got so fuckin’ into my head that my wolf didn’t wanna come out.”

“Really?” You asked, a little relieved that you weren’t alone.

“Yeah. She’ll come out again, don’t you worry.”

You hummed in understanding, happy that Rhett knew exactly what you were dealing with, and that it was nothing to worry about. Then, the time for realization kicked in. The realization that it all could have been so much worse, and you were lucky that Rhett stepped in when he did. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, after you’d both finally stood, allowing Rhett to gather a clean set of clothes. “I feel so fucking useless, not being able to protect Amy the way I needed to. I hate that I froze up. I’m just so relieved you heard us and got to us in time.”

Rhett shook his head, stepping toward you as he finished pulling on his jeans. String fingers tilted your chin up. “You did your best in a fuckin’ scary situation. Hell, you were ready to sacrifice yourself so Amy would be safe. That’s not you bein’ useless. You protected her just like any mama wolf would protect her pup.”

His words brought unexpected tears to your eyes. When he saw them glimmering along your lash line, he smiled softly, thumb stroking over your cheek. “You did good, little wolf.”

The nickname, which he’d dubbed you after the first few weeks of knowing you, made you smile, despite the tears running down your cheeks. 

After that encounter, it seemed that your bond only deepened. You grew even closer than before, your hearts knit together by an unbreakable invisible force. And as your love blossomed and flourished, you crossed the threshold of new milestones together. 

One of those milestones was finally moving into the old barn that you’d been renovating together. It had gone from a barebones wooden shell to a cozy home with room for your family to grow. It allowed you to still remain near the rest of your combined pack, but also gave you a haven of privacy. Gone were the days of sharing his childhood bedroom and trying to stay quiet while in a house full of wolves with keen hearing. Now you had your own space to do whatever you pleased together. 

Although moving into your own space was a very big milestone for you, it was nothing compared to what was coming your way. 

There was a very special and celebrated time that took place between werewolf couples. Much like regular wolves, werewolves had a mating season. The first season shared between mates was pivotal in their relationship. 

You and Rhett had yet to experience that season yet. On your own, you had endured heats before. It was only a natural occurrence. But you had heard that the heat you experienced on your own was nothing compared to that first one you would experience with your mate. 

Secretly, in your own mind, you had fantasized about what it might be like. You were already insatiable enough as it was during heat. The thought of it being increased tenfold was unimaginable for you. 

You knew the pattern of your cycle. It was easy to follow. You would enter into heat twice a year. Once in the springtime, and once in autumn. Each time it would last around 7 to 14 days. 

Your marriage to Rhett took place in early summertime. Which meant, along with the changing of leaves and the cooling of the air, you would soon be entering into that heat stage. You knew it was coming. It was marked in red on your calendar. 

You were nervous, to say the least. While you were eager to experience it with him, it was all so new. Sex was not a foreign concept between the two of you. You’d had it plenty of times since your marriage. But this was different. This was a primal, instinctual ritual. One that could potentially result in your bloodline being continued. 

You were entirely unprepared for just how intense it would be. As the season turned, your body prepared itself for another cycle. It started subtly at first, but soon grew into so much more. 

Possessiveness and protectiveness over your mate was the first thing you noticed, increased even more so than usual. That possessive streak reared its ugly head when an unsuspecting human girl tried to flirt with Rhett. You found yourself pulling him against your side and quite literally growling at her. It was not your proudest moment, but you could not control the wolf inside you. She did what she wanted. 

The protectiveness came when anyone disrespected him. It didn’t matter who. Although Perry generally tried to steer clear of running his mouth at Rhett in your presence, there were times when he slipped up. And this time around, you found yourself with your claws at his throat when he made a comment under his breath. 

“Say it again,” you hissed, baring your sharp canines. “Go on, say it!”

It took both Rhett and Royal to pull you off of him. That instance, however, you were not sorry for. You would never be ashamed of defending your husband. 

Soon, the irritability and possessiveness melted away into something else. Your every sense was heightened. Your already keen wolf senses were increased to the point where you could hardly even bear it. 

And then came the desire. 

Nothing in the world could have prepared you for how all-consuming it would be. It hit you like a freight train, slamming into your body and sending you into orbit. It started as a dull ache that very quickly began to spread throughout your body. 

The first day you woke up with it, you were animalistic. It drove you out of your slumber and sent you shooting upright in bed, growling as you pressed your hands against your lower abdomen, where the ache had settled. 

Much to your utter dismay, Rhett was not in bed beside you. He was more than aware about your approaching heat, and he tried to spend as much time with you as he could. But that morning, his father had called him out of bed at an ungodly hour to handle an issue with an injured calf. That took him away from you, and when you discovered he was gone, you let out a pained yowl, curling into a ball. 

“Rhett!” You desperately cried out, hoping he was still nearby. But you were met with no answer. 

Groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed, and you gasped sharply, placing a hand over your mouth when you realized that your need had soaked straight through the panties you’d worn to bed. They weren’t just damp. They were drenched. 

When you stood, your knees almost buckled, and your hand shot out to steady yourself against the bedpost. “Holy fuck,” you whimpered. You had never in your life felt such a sensation. 

It was an ache so strong that there were no words to describe it. An agony that was not quite painful, but maddening nonetheless. And there was only one way to soothe it. Rhett was the only one capable of easing the burning fire. The only one who could act as a soothing salve. But he was nowhere to be found. 

How could he just leave? In your agitated state it only served to upset you all the more. He knew you were coming up on your heat. He knew you needed him. How could he leave you all alone to deal with it?

Of course, he hadn’t done it on purpose. That morning when he’d woken before the sun, he could smell you. Your scent had increased, its spicy sweetness making his head spin. But he knew how Royal would get if he refused to help his father with the issue at hand, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with the man’s contrariness. 

Leaving you in bed that morning had been incredibly difficult. But he left with the hope that this project wouldn’t take long, and he’d be back with you before you ever woke up. 

But that was four hours ago, and he was still dealing with an injured calf, a distressed mama cow, and one irritated Royal Abbott. The situation had given Rhett a distraction, but back at home, you had none. 

You swiped your phone off of your nightstand with the intent of calling him to see where he was. However, when you dialed, you were alerted to the sound of ringing coming from his own nightstand. He’d left his phone at home. 

You growled in frustration, tossing your phone onto the bed, just as another surge of molten need vibrated through you, sending you to your knees. Your body trembled, and the intensity was so great that you could feel yourself beginning to shift. 

Your claws lengthened from your fingers, ripping shreds into the side of the duvet as you held onto the mattress for support. You felt out of control, and it was a scary feeling. You hadn’t felt this way since your first full moon, and even that wasn’t comparable to how intense it was now. 

The full moon didn’t leave an agonizing ache in your cunt like this. No, this was solely the result of your body’s natural drive to mate. But how on earth were you meant to do that if the one you were mated to wasn’t even here?

Tears welled in your eyes, and you forced yourself to rage deep, ragged breaths. Maybe if you could just get to the bathroom, you could put yourself under a cold shower and hopefully snap yourself out of this feverish state. 

You stood on unsteady legs and stumbled toward the steps, which you rushed down until you made it to the main floor area below the loft. You burst into the bathroom and immediately turned on the shower to a cold spray, stripping out of your shirt and panties and jumping in. 

You hissed as the chilly water enveloped you, cascading down your heated skin. It provided a small amount of relief, but it didn’t take the discomfort away completely. 

You knew that you couldn’t relieve the ache yourself, but that didn’t stop you from trying. You reached a trembling hand between your thighs, running your fingers over your center, your legs nearly giving out as you brushed against your swollen, thrumming clit. 

You let out a sharp whimper and jolted forward. You tried to soothe your need to be filled by using your fingers, but they were nothing compared to Rhett. His fingers, his cock. They didn’t reach that spot inside you that made you see stars. You were left feeling unsatisfied and even needier than before. 

In frustration, you leaned back against the shower walls squeezing your eyes shut and trying to steady your breathing. You imagined this was how wolves felt in the wild. You hardly felt like you could exercise your human control anymore. You’d heard of werewolves shifting permanently into their wolf bodies and giving in to their wild nature. It didn’t seem that far-fetched that it could happen to you. 

In the midst of your plight, Rhett had just looked at the sky and realized that the sun’s placement must mean it was nearly 10 o’clock in the morning. His eyes widened. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed since he’d left early that morning, but it had been almost five hours. He knew you were awake by now, and probably desperate as all get out. 

He patted his jeans for his phone, but found his pockets empty. And then he remembered, he’d accidentally left it behind that morning. “Shit,” he cursed. He snatched up his Carhartt jacket that he had draped over one of the stall doors. “Dad, I gotta go,” he called out to his father.

“Hang on,” Royal replied, but Rhett shook his head, already halfway out the barn door.

“M’ wife needs me, I gotta get back. Ask Per for help if you need it.” And then he was gone, scrambling out into the cool October morning. His mind was spinning as he pictured you home alone. You were likely at your wit's end. 

Sure enough, when he finally made it to the house, it was your scent that nearly knocked him flat on his ass as he walked through the door. He grunted as if he’d been kicked in the gut, stumbling back against the wooden door. 

His every sense was overwhelmed by you. Deep, spicy, sweet. Irresistible and divine, all at once. His heart rate began to quicken in his chest, and he gasped as he straightened, hastily kicking his boots off by the door. “Little wolf?!” He called out.

At the sound of his voice, a sob of relief tore from you. You had just climbed out of your cold shower, towel wrapped around your body. “Rhett!” You wailed, your voice coming out as a desperate, animalistic yowl. 

He knew exactly where you were, he could hear the pounding of your heart, the shallowness of your breath. He was drawn straight to you like a moth to flame, and within seconds, he was at the bathroom door, just as you flung it open.

“Rhett!” You wailed again, throwing yourself into his arms as sobs wracked your body. “Wh-where were yo-you?! I needed you and you were gone! Why did you leave me?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby. Dad needed help and I didn’t think I’d be gone that long, but that was five fuckin’ hours ago. I’m sorry.”

You clutched at his shirt, and he gasped when he heard a rip, only to find that your claws had torn through the fabric of his flannel. “Shit, okay, hold on,” he told you, pulling you back to look fully into your face. Your skin was damp, but it wasn’t from the shower you’d just taken. You were sweaty but also hot to the touch, as if you had a high fever. 

Your eyes were glowing gold, and through your parted lips he could see your fangs. And oh, how you trembled. So much so that he had to hold you steady so you didn’t fall. “Please,” you whimpered, “it hurts so bad, please, I-I can’t take it anymore! I feel like I’m on fucking fire!”

Rhett was overwhelmed. You smelled so good, like the natural scent that had drawn him to you when you first became mates. But there was something else, something that could only be described as sex. It felt like it was altering his very brain chemistry.

Then he growled, deep and low in his throat, and pressed his nose to your neck, breathing in deep before he began trailing lower, in search of the source. He ripped your towel away from your body and nuzzled at you until he finally stopped between your thighs, pressing his nose against your cunt and inhaling. 

You gazed down at him, and his own eyes flashed yellow to match yours. Possessively, he nipped at your inner thigh. “I’m here now, little wolf,” he assured you, “I’ll take care of you.”

“Please,” you sobbed, “I can’t…I don’t know if I can…” but the words died in your throat. 

He straightened back up, leaning in to kiss you deeply as he quickly shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it aside before you reached for his belt, trying to unbuckle it, but quickly growing tearful and frustrated. He shushed you with another kiss and unbuckled the belt himself, shoving his jeans and underwear down his legs all at once, freeing his already hardening cock. 

As soon as you saw it, you mewled, dropping to your knees and rubbing your face against the velvety skin. Rhett grunted, his head spinning at the sight of you nuzzling your cheek against his dick. You were so far gone, and it was dizzying to him. 

“Need it so bad,” you whined, kitten licking the tip as the shaft hardened. “Need it so deep inside me.”

“I’m gonna give it to you, promise,” he rasped. Then he hauled you to your feet, with the intention of pulling you up to your bedroom in the loft, but you never made it. You couldn’t wait another second, and in a flurry of desperation, you grabbed onto him, tugging him hard and sending you both to the floor. 

He landed on his back as you climbed on top of him, but in true wolf fashion, he snarled, wrestling you until you were the one lying on your back on the floor. In this way, he showed his dominance over you, securing his right to be your mate.

“Gettin’ big for your britches, little wolf,” he muttered as he ran his nose over your flesh, inhaling you. You had very quickly turned to putty in his hands, especially when you felt his cock against your inner thigh.

“Need it! I need it, please! Please, please, please!” You wept, entirely forgetting your little fight for dominance that had taken place moments earlier. The ache between your legs had increased all the more. A throbbing, burning, crushing ache that made you feel like you were suffocating, as if you’d die if you didn’t become one with him in the next few seconds. 

Rhett looked down and he saw why you were so desperate. Your cunt was puffy, and with the sunlight that was streaming in through the windows, he could see how wet it was. You’d only been on the floor for a few moments but your arousal had already dripped down onto the hardwood. “Oh my god,” he whispered in amazement. 

He couldn’t contain himself if he tried. He placed his hands on the floor, at either side of your head, and nudged his hips forward. When you felt the blunt head of his cock against you, you whimpered. It burned, it burned, it burned. Until, suddenly…

“Oh!” He was inside you in one fluid motion. Every last inch of him, filling you to the brim, fitting inside you like he was created to. Because he was. You were two unique souls made perfectly for each other. 

“I’ve got ya, sweet baby. I’ve got ya,” he assured you as you whimpered and whined at the fullness. 

And suddenly, all at once, that terrible, gnawing ache began to fade. It felt like a healing salve to a grave wound. You gasped, your eyes widening as you gazed up at your husband. “Rhett,” you squeaked.

“I know.”

Tears filled your eyes as you finally felt relief for the first time that day. Those same tears began to track down the sides of your face, and you couldn’t help but let out a breathless sob. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and clung to him as he began to slowly move. 

With each push and pull of his cock within you, your body reacted accordingly, providing you with even more lubricant until he was moaning, gasping at the feeling. “Shit, darlin’, you’re dribblin’ all over me.”

“S-sorry,” you peeped, squeezing your eyes shut. “Ca-can’t help it. Feels too good. Feels…oh, feels so fucking…good…”

You threw your head back as he built a rhythm, slow at first, but the pace soon quickened. Back and forth, faster and faster, until it could only be described as rutting. You felt so fucking full, and he kept you that way, barely pulling his hips back, instead fucking you in a pulsing motion. It was too much and not enough. You started to grow desperate again. The ache was gone, but it had been replaced with molten heat, as if your insides were melting. 

“Harder, harder, harder!” You cried out.

He obliged, grunting laboriously as he drove into you harder. You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he plunged his cock into you repeatedly. The sounds escaping both of you were animalistic. Growls and snarls and hisses, the wild animals caged within you trying to claw their way to the surface. 

He was so deep inside you, every ridge and vein of his cock creating such divine friction within you that it felt like you were being burned alive in the most wonderful, indescribable way. 

Your claws dug into the tender flesh of his back, and he gnarled, snapping his teeth at you, but not in a threatening way. He nuzzled into your neck, the sharp tips of those fangs pressing against your pulse point, and you whined, leaning into the pleasurable pain. 

His teeth drew blood, and as soon as the crimson blossomed against your skin, he used his tongue to soothe over it, licking up your lifeblood. The bite mark healed quickly, as injuries normally did, but you could still feel the sting even after it was gone. 

And then, something else happened. It was common for werewolves to shift partially, where their eyes, fangs, and claws became visible. But it was also common for them to grow a little in stature, too. 

You could feel it. His muscles rippled beneath your touch, expanding. His shoulders grew broader. And something else, grew, too. When you felt it, you let out a wolfish yip, jolting against him as his cock swelled within your cunt.

“R-Rhett,” you squeaked, and he shushed you, kissing you languidly.

“You’re okay, little wolf. Feels good, don’t it?”

You managed to nod despite yourself. Your tears kept falling and they wouldn’t stop. But they weren’t tears of pain. Quite the contrary. It didn’t matter that he was growing inside you. Your body was designed to accommodate it. The feeling was incredibly pleasurable, and it sent an intense shudder through your body.

You screwed your eyes shut and mewled as he kept rutting into you, stretching you, filling you, completing you. This felt right. This felt good. This felt like the most natural thing in the world. And it was. Your bodies were joined as one. One force, one soul, one heart. 

“You feel so good,” you repeated yourself, unashamed of the tears still streaming down your cheeks. “So good, so good, so good.”

His hips quickened within you. His hands remained at either side of your head, and you could hear his claws gouging into the hardwood. He’d be pissed about that mark later, but right now, he couldn’t be bothered to care. Nothing else mattered but this. Fulfilling this natural, primal, raw desire to claim, and be claimed. 

The intensity mounted, like a kettle beginning to boil. You held onto him so tightly, encouraging him to go deeper, faster, harder. And he did, until it felt like he was fucking you into the floor. 

He leaned back to watch you, admiring the way your eyes rolled back in your head, the way you shuddered so powerfully, as if you’d just been struck with a bolt of lightning. It felt like you had, because each nudge of his cock in your slick walls sent sparks surging through your core. 

His eyes flickered further down, to the place where your bodies met. Where your cunt clasped him in a vice grip. “Takin’ me so well,” he gruffed, at which you whimpered. Then, you felt his big, warm hand splaying against your lower abdomen. “Gon’ fill you up, little wolf.”

“Please,” you squeaked. 

“Yeah?” He leaned in close, and you opened your eyes, finding golden irises gazing back at you. “Yeah? Want me to get you full of me? Take all my seed like you were made to?”

You cried out, jolting against you when he thrust forward particularly hard, sending your body vibrating with ecstasy. “Need it so bad!” You practically shrieked.

“I’ll give it all to you. Get this pretty tummy nice an’ round. Full of my pups.”

At his words, your entire world tilted on its axis. Your brain went blank with white-hot pleasure. All you knew was “yes, yes, yes!” That was what you wanted. That was what your body was begging for. To mate. To be bred. 

Rhett kissed you again, swallowing your babbled pleas. You felt as if you were not of your body. Like you were floating over yourself, watching your husband fuck you. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

Your body shook and shivered. Your eyes rolled back in your skull. You couldn’t speak. You could hardly breathe. It was immeasurable. Indescribable. You were certain you were going to pass out from the ecstasy. It surged through you from head to toe, sizzling and sparking, illuminating the very edges of your soul, sending you into orbit.

You swore you did black out for a moment. How was it possible that something could feel this good? You had experienced all-consuming pleasure before, multiple times. Rhett was a generous lover who always made you see stars when he fucked you. But this was different. This was mind-bending, soul-shattering, earth-shaking.

You didn’t realize you were repeatedly chanting his name. It left your lips like a prayer, breathlessly whispered up to the heavens. He spoke to you, but you couldn’t hear him. You were deafened by searing pleasure, ringing in your ears, rattling your very bones to their marrow. 

You barely registered his mouth at your neck again, teeth nipping into tender flesh. All you knew was that you were existing on an otherworldly plane. And then you felt it. That flame that had been burning inside you was growing. Hotter, bigger, more intense.

Rhett could feel it. You were trembling uncontrollably, body convulsing as if you’d been struck by raw electricity. Your cunt kept pulsing around him, tightening so intensely that he almost struggled to move within you. 

“Let go,” he rasped, knowing that he, too, was nearing his end. He could feel it, crackling to life at the base of his spine, thrumming within his heavy, aching balls. He was driven by his need to fill you with his very essence. 

“I-I’m c-co-” but you couldn’t speak. The words wouldn’t come. They were impossible. So you simply cried and wailed beneath him, so certain you were about to burst into flames, reduced to nothing but ash.

But you didn’t burst into a fiery inferno. Instead, every nerve, every neuron, every atom of your body was consumed with something you could never, ever describe with mere mortal words. 

Your eyes went wide as you locked your gaze with Rhett’s. Mouth open, chest pressing into his as you jerked forward. And then it hit you. Hard, deep, stretching over every inch of your body. You let out a carnal howl, which surely echoed for miles outside of your home. 

You fell apart around your husband’s cock, keening, sobbing, consumed by blazing euphoria. You felt as if you were part of the universe, an explosion of blazing stars, scattered brilliantly across the universe in a blinding, breathtaking array.

You thought it would end, but it didn’t. Your eyes flew open when you realized you were still coming. “Rhett!” You shrieked. “I-I c-ca-can’t stop!”

His mouth fell open as he gasped sharply, grunting as your body continued to undulate beneath him. But he couldn’t reply, for suddenly, he was overcome. His own release rushed through him in an overwhelming surge, and his grunt turned into a yowl. The heat of his release flooded the very core of your being, filling you until it spilled out around the edges of his cock, dripping down to the floor beneath you.

It took what felt like an eternity for you both to come back to yourselves. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but once Rhett regained feeling in his extremities, he gingerly lifted himself from where his body had fallen against your own.

His eyes were back to their familiar human blue, so brilliant and comforting all at once. His face was soft with concern, and he lifted his hand to gently stroke your tear-dampened cheek. “Y’ okay, little wolf?” He asked. 

You couldn’t find your voice, so you simply nodded, sniffling softly. He soothed you, leaning in close to kiss you deeply. “That was…fuck, that was a lot,” he continued on. 

“I-I know,” you whispered, barely audible. 

Gently, he eased his cock out of you, and you let out a heartbreaking cry at the emptiness. One that he soothed with another kiss. He brought his hand down between your legs, cupping your dripping cunt, soothing any pain he might’ve caused. But you weren’t in pain. Far from it. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Got a call from Dad this mornin’ about a calf that got hurt, had to go deal with that and it took all fuckin’ mornin’, and by the time I realized what time it was, it was too late. I know I shouldn't ‘ve left you all alone like that, and I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, reaching up to cup his cheek. “It’s okay. When I was crying at you about it I…I don’t think I was in my right mind. I’ve never felt like that in my entire life. Felt like I could crawl out of my own skin. Hurt so bad, I needed you somethin’ fierce. I’ve had heats before but nothing could ever compare to this.”

Rhett hummed, lifting his own hand to place over the one you’d rested on his cheek. “From now on, I ain’t leavin’ you. Don’t want you goin’ through that alone again. I’ll stay with you until it’s over.”

You nodded. “I’d like that.”

You spent a few more moments on the floor, catching your breath and processing what had just taken place. Rhett glanced at the claw marks he’d left in the hardwood and groaned in annoyance. “Next time you wanna fuck like animals, let’s do it in bed, where I can’t mess up the woodwork I broke my back tryin’ to get perfect,” he grumbled.

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Noted,” you said. 

You allowed him to help you up off the floor, and he pulled you to him, naked bodies pressed together. His gaze grew serious. “I love you, little wolf. I’m gonna take good care of you while you go through this, alright? Don’t want my darlin’ sufferin’ on my watch.”

You beamed at him and bumped your nose against his. “I know you will. You always do.”

Again, he kissed you, and then he guided you back to the bathroom from whence you’d come. There, you showered together, cleansing yourselves of your previous activities. For the time being, you were sated, and that terrible, gnawing ache was gone. What followed was this strange sort of floating feeling. Your bodies were producing special pheromones which intensified the bonding process immediately following sex. 

You felt so connected to Rhett, even more so than you ever had before. It was a little overwhelming. After your shower, you refused to part from one another. You stayed close, curling up in bed for a little rest after such an exhausting morning. Rhett lovingly wrapped you in his embrace, your still bare bodies intertwined. 

He traced patterns on your skin with his fingertips and told you all the things he loved about you. He confessed how grateful he was that you were his mate, and how he’d been lost before he met you. You spoke of your future together and what it might entail. Including the little ones you might add to your family if the Fates smiled down upon you.

You connected on an entirely new level, and it only served to knit your hearts closer together. And then, you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, cuddled in each other’s embrace.

But your body would soon wake you again, and you would be reacquainted with that all too familiar ache. This time, however, Rhett was with you. You found yourself whimpering, crying for him as you shook him awake. 

He remained perfectly calm as he soothed you, kissing you so lovingly as he arranged your body into position. Slowly, steadily, he eased himself into you again, joining your bodies as one. 

“You’re okay, little wolf. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

And you knew he would.

-

tagging (a mix of those already on my taglist/those who might be interested):

@cdauni @gothamrots @happyrebelruins @bobfloydsbabe @myfandomchangesalot @mikpieboo @petersunderoos96 @eighthwvnder @yanna-banana @bradshawsbaby @bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @basiccortez @thesluttyarchivist @rhettabbotts @milesmillergf @briseisgone @laluneveillesureux @gohnspants @bobfloyds @wkndwlff @damrlova @withahappyrefrain @michaego

Girl..Girl..GIRL. Namor...His huge hands.....My throat.....His mouth...Next to my ear.....calling me His whore WHILST PUSHING HIS HIPS DEEPER

pairing: namor x (f)reader

warnings: eighteen+ content, p in v, that ends poetically soft, dirty talk, choking, mentions of past roughsex, aka how can I have him say whore without actually saying whore, itzia means princess.

note: once again i 100% believe this man looks at dirty talk like a form of poetry, another art form for him to excel in!!

“Is mine the only one that can make you feel this way, itzia?” He grunts into your ear, half a smirk brushing against your lobe when he can feel the strangled noise you let out against his palm. “Do other men fuck you as good as I? Good enough to have you trembling against my chest and taking my cock like that’s all you were made to do?” His fingers loosen their hold against the column of your neck, the pants that concave your chest to rise and fall rapidly against his, an abundance of air reaching your lungs once again—not why he has moved his large palm.

He’s not interested in an answer to a question he already knows. A praise he can hear in your breaths and gasps and moans when you’re letting his given name harmonize from your lips like the sweetest melody he’s ever heard.

No, he’s only moving his hand so he can pull your legs further up his sides. So they’re now pushed just under his arms, angling you perfectly so he’s fucking you even deeper—slower. The drag of his cock torturing your insides worse than when he fucks you hard; palms reddening your ass, his spit running down your chin, grip at the back of your skull so tight you think you might pass out.

How he’s fucking you right now feels religious, worshiping. Like he’s praising you with his cock and then tearing you down with his words.

Like a god who makes his people suffer for the good. For the blessings bestowed upon them.

Except he is a god and the blessing he’s giving you is making your walls flutter around him, and nails dig into the muscles of his back.

“You’re mine, itzia. For eternity I will have you like this.” The pressure of his lips against yours feels like a hot brand on your soul.