Wait I Love This 😫

I Wanna Be Yours

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓸𝓷𝓮, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸

~~~ 𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝕋𝕨𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕁𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪.

Relationships: Recom! Miles Quaritch x Sully! Reader x Recom! Lyle Wainfleet

Warning: Polyamorous relationship. Angst. Enemies to Lovers. Slow burn. Falling in love. Redemption arc. Canon deaths (but not really). Romance. Smut. Jealousy. Threesome. Anal(both F & M receiving). Mention of suicide, self harm, depression, anxiety. PTSD. Feelings being revealed. Jake and Neytiri not being good parents to reader. Reader being a motherly figure to Spider.

(🌼🍄NOT ON A SCHEDULE! DEALING WITH LIFE🌼🍄)

Prologue: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/730437661322608640/i-wanna-be-yours-prologue

Chapter 1: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/730514148836966400/i-wanna-be-yours-ch-1

Chapter 2: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/730788062006755328/i-wanna-be-yours-ch-2

Chapter 3: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/731073519008563200/i-wanna-be-yours-ch-3

Chapter 4: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/731324689904959488/i-wanna-be-yours-ch-4

Chapter 5: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/731788277142749184/i-wanna-be-yours-ch-5

Chapter 6: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/732356439483514880/i-wanna-be-yours-ch-6

Chapter 7: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/733206892944474112/i-wanna-be-yours-ch-7

Chapter 8: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/733361718204481536/i-wanna-be-yours-ch-8

Chapter 9: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/733665109236432896/i-wanna-be-yours-ch-9

Chapter 10: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/734048119499735040/i-wanna-be-your-ch-10

Chapter 11: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/734949122571927552/i-wanna-be-yours-ch-11

Chapter 12: https://www.tumblr.com/adoreeenina/736206099243548672/i-wanna-be-yours-ch-12

Chapter 13:(in progress)

-TBC-

YESSSS

Baked In Blood

summary: Driven by kindness, you walk to a secluded house every day, leaving freshly baked pies for the mysterious man who never shows himself. But when your neighbor, Mrs. Hatcher, is violently killed one night, everything changes. As fear spreads through the town, the man you've been silently serving steps into her life—and the true, terrifying nature of his obsession begins to unravel.

warnings: non-con, dub-con, explicit content, dirty talk, mentions of blood and murder, forest sex, prey and predator dynamics

pairing: dark!remmick x fem!reader

words: 6k

based off this request

The air was thick with that early morning quiet — not cold, but not warm yet either. Just still. Hushed. Like the world hadn’t quite decided to wake up. The pie in your hands was still warm, warmed in a red gingham towel that gave a slight aroma of sugar and cinnamon. You carried it like you always did, how you carried it to his house every morning. Steady, careful, both hands under the dish so the heat didn’t slip through and burn your fingers.

You took the long way, even though you didn’t have to. Past the lot where the hydrangeas used to grow, Past the old gas station that hadn’t sold gas in years. The street was empty, save for a squirrel darting across the sidewalk and a newspaper half soaked in dew.

You liked mornings like this. Quiet ones. Nobody needing anything from you yet. 

His house sat at the far end of the block, past where the road cracked deeper and the shade settled in early. You could barely see the roofline through the trees most days. No cars in the drive. No signs of the sun shining into his house in the mornings, windows and curtains closed. Just that porch with the crooked step and the step and the front door that never opened. 

You didn’t know who he was. No one really did. 

You’d never seen him up close. Never heard his voice. Just a name once, muttered by a neighbor who looked like she regretted saying it the second it left her mouth.

But none of that mattered. Never mattered to you. 

You climbed the creaking and worn steps like usual, pie in hand, the porch groaning under your weight. You paused at the door. Knocked once… twice then three times and that was it. Never more. 

SIlence only met you. Not even a sign of a curtain drawing back. Though you waited just for a few seconds more. Long enough to maybe give him a chance to open the door and accept the pie you usually baked.  

There were signs he took the dishes you left on the little table posted by the chair on his porch. And you needed him to open the door sooner or later in the future because you sure were running out your plates and dishes. 

So you crouched down slightly, set the pie down on the small round table. You adjusted the towel, smoothed it down with your fingers. And then left like you always did. Same way you came. With your back turned you never saw the figure that stood by the window– shifting the curtain ever so slightly to watch you leave.

It was a good twenty five minutes by the time you reached your gates, your rhoughts still back at that old house. You’d never gotten anything in return except for an empty door. But it didn’t stop you. Some things couldn’t be helped, and kindness was one of them. It was just who you were.

You didn’t know why you were this way– always looking out for others, always taking the time to lend a hand, even if it meant nothing in return. Maybe it was because your mama had always taught you that small acts of kindness could make all the difference in a world that could be a little too harsh and unyielding sometimes. Or maybe it was just your heart, too damn big for its own good.

You’d seen people look at you strangely when you held the door open for them or when you offered a smile to the grumpy old guy who owned a small grocery store cross the street who barely even returned the smile. But you didn’t mind. You’d always been this way, and you’d always keep doing it— whether it was helping your neighbor Mrs Hatcher with her groceries or just leaving one too many baked goods for a man who never even bothered to show his face. 

As you reached the steps of your porch, you noticed Mrs Hatcher was sitting outside again, her rocking chair creaking steadily. The morning sun barely touched her, casting her face in a sharp light that made her look even more critical than usual. You almost didn’t want to stop, but you were too polite, so you gave her a quick wave as you neared the gate. 

She didn't wave back. Not like how she would regularly do so. Instead, she looked you up and down, her eyes narrowing slightly, and for a moment, the silence between you both felt a little too thick. “Been out walking again, huh?” she said, her voice carrying the same sharpness it always did, but now there was something else in it— a little more judgement, a little less warmth than usual.

You nodded. “Just dropped something off.”

Her eyes flickered toward the street, and she took a slow drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling up into the air like it had a mind of its own. “And what’s that, exactly? Your ‘good deed’ for the day?” You shifted on your feet, a little uncomfortable, but you didn’t want to seem rude. “Just took the guy that lives in that old house near the woods a pie. I baked it in the morning.”

Mrs Hatcher raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair as if shw was trying to make some sense of you. “That house,” she started slowly, like she was comprehending her own words in her head before letting them out, “It ain’t one for pies, sugar. And it ain’t one for kindness neither. You might want to stop before you‘re the only one left out there handing things to a ghost.” 

You felt a small flutter in your chest, but you didn’t show it. Sure you’ve heard the whispers about that house— from the strange way it sat, half hidden behind thick trees, the rumours that no one had ever seen the man who supposedly lived there. People called him strange, distant, dangerous even, but it didn’t faze you. You didn’t need to know him to know that everyone deserved a little kindness. 

“I’m sure he’ll like it,” you said simply, smiling. “He’s always been taking them in.” 

Mrs Hatcher’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “Is that so huh?” She leaned forward, the creaking of her chair louder now, her tone dripping with a subtle challenge. “Well, maybe he don’t mind. But I’m telling you sugar, one day you’ll find out kindness don’t always come back around the way you think it will.”

You didn’t know why, but there was something in the way she said it that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Something that didn't sit right. But you ignored it, like you always did with her not bothering to listen to any of the bullshit any more, you just gave a simple smile and nodded. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you said, offering a half smile before stepping toward your front door. 

The last thing you heard before you entered was Mrs Hatcher’s voice, barely above a murmur, like she was talking to herself. “Just be careful, girl. There’s kindness… and then there’s being a fool for it, and that’s you right now.”

You didn’t let it bother you. It was just Mrs Hatcher, always watching, always waiting for something to go wrong. But somehow, her words hung in the air, and for the first time in a while, you wondered if there might be more to her warning then you realized.

Everyone was shocked to hear the news, but nobody could say they were surprised. 

It wasn’t the kind of thing that was completely unexpected in a place like this. The kind of place where people get to be known by their routines, their quirks and their habits. So when the sheriff made his rounds, grim faced and speaking low, people leaned in a little closer, nodding pretending they didn’t already know.

Mrs Hatcher had been found in her chair— rocking still, like she was just taking one of her usual evening naps. But this time, her chair wasn’t creaking from the wear of decades. It was still in a way it never had been before. Her neck, torn open, blood spread thick across the porch, pooling like dark wine against the old wood. 

It was late, the street bathed in that heavy hush. The silence clung to the scene, to the dark windows and the front door that creaked ever so slightly due to the wind. 

But it wasn’t just the manner of her death that had the town rattled. It was the fact that it had happened right there. Just a few houses down from where you could practically hear the crickets and see the stars in their endless stretch above. Mrs Hatcher had never been the type to keep quiet. She knew too much, talked too loud, watched too long— and all her sharp words, there was always a thin, hidden thread of fear running underneath them. 

The sheriff said it was too early to say much. But you didn’t need to be a damn detective to know that whatever had happened to Mrs Hatcher, it had come from the deep shadows beyond the streetlight’s reach. And that, as always, made you nervous. 

You stood at the edge of the gathering, the murmurs of the townsfolk was a distant hum as your eyes were just fixed on Mrs Hatcher's porch. The air was thick with the scent of iron and something else— something you couldn’t quite place.

As you begin to take a cautious step closer, a sudden chill ran down your spine. You turned slightly, sensing a presence behind you. 

Remmick stood there, half shrouded in shadow, his eyes reflecting the dim light with an unsettling gleam. His expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth when he saw your reaction to him somehow startling you.

“Ain’t you—” you began to say, but he beat you to it, laughing low in his throat as he took a slow, deliberate step forward. “Lord, you spook easy,” he said, voice thick just soft enough to make you lean in without meaning to. “Didn’t mean to startle you, sugar. Though I s’pose I got a knack for it.”

You didn’t answer right away— couldn’t, really. It wasn’t just that he’d come out of nowhere. It was that this was the first time you were actually seeing him. Up close. And he wasn’t what you expected. He was just a normal man. Tall, wth skin pale like it hadn’t met sunlight in years. But it wasn’t his looks that held you. It was something else you couldn't quite take hold on. 

“You’re…” The words trailed from your lips, thin and uncertain,

“Remmick,” he offered, with the faintest tilt of his head, the smile still ghosting at the corners of his mouth. “Though it sounds like folks ‘round here prefer other names for me.”

He glanced across the street, toward the sea of curious people that had gathered in front of Mrs Hatcher’s house. The porch light burned too bright now, casting hard shadows over shaken faces and murmured prayers. Someone was crying, but no one had dared to step past the old woman’s front gate. No one even noticed him. Not with the chaos. Not with the way the fear made them all look anywhere but the dark.

“Hell of a night,” he muttered, almost to himself, voice curing like smoke in the stillness. 

Then he looked back at you. “You been bringing those baked goods, didn’t you, specially the one today?” 

You blinked. “What?”

“The one in the red towel. Sugar and cinnamon.” His gaze lingered. “Tasted real good.” 

Unease tightened in your chest, and something more but you weren’t sure if it was fear or something colder.

He chuckled again—low, almost fond. “Meant to bring the dish back. Got a mind like a cracked jar, though. Things slip out easy.”

You swallowed, unsure if you meant to nod.

“If you’re not too spooked to walk back with me,” he said, voice light like he was asking you to fetch a paper off the porch, “I could hand it off now.”

He held your gaze a second longer, then added with a crooked smile, “Seems like nobody’s watchin’ but you anyhow.”

You cleared your thrat, trying to keep your voice steady. “That’s alright, I can just come by in the mornin’ and pick it up.” 

You didn’t even get another sentence out before he titled his head, slow and deliberate, and stepped in just a tad closer. “Nah,” he said, low and smooth, like he was talking to some skittish animal. “Best do it now.” There was something in the way he said it—not harsh, but final. As if he was the one deciding for you instead. 

You tried to laugh it off, light and easy. “It’s no trouble really. I don't mind—” 

“But I do,” he cut in, still smiling. “Ain’t polite, lettin’ a lady like you walk all the way just to fetch her own plate back. ‘Sides, I got somethin’ for you.” That made you pause. “A gift,” he added, like he was sweetening the offer, though the word came off strange in his mouth, like he’d never had much reason to use it. “For all those baked goods. Seemed only right.” 

You hesitated, eyes flicking toward the crowd again that was still buzzing around Mrs Hatcher’s porch, not a single one of them looking in your direction. His voice dropped slightly, though the smile stayed. “AIn’t nobody gonna notice you’re gone, sugar. Not tonight.”

And it was true. They wouldn’t. The streetlamps were dim, the shadows stretched long, and everyone’s attention was wrapped up on what had happened. You could simply leave easy right now, and nobody would even call your name. 

You swallowed, throat dry.

He turned then, back toward the narrow path leading toward the woods. “C’mon,” he said over his shoulder, his husky and slow with a soft roughness to it. “It’s just a short walk. You already know the way.” 

Yeah a short walk… a twenty five minute short walk with a guy you baked for but he never did have the face to open the door, and suddenly he’s asking you to follow him home after the events that took place tonight. But you didn’t give it a thought any longer, telling yourself you were just now paranoid. So you just followed behind him.

The road felt longer this time. Each step kicked up dust that didn’t seem to settle, and the cicadas had gone quiet, like even they didn’t want to listen in. You kept a few paces behind him, watching the sway of his shoulders, the way he didn’t look back once—not even to make sure you were still there.

You told yourself it was fine. He was just being polite. Returning a dish, offering a gift. That’s all it was.

But the dark felt thicker out here. Heavier. Like it was pressing in, one slow breath at a time.

It was a good ten minutes before either of you spoke.

Just shoes on the forest floor. The occasional creak of a distant fence outside of the trees shifting in the wind. You were starting to think maybe he wasn’t much for small talk—maybe he’d changed his mind about that “gift” entirely—when his voice finally cut through the dark.

“You always that generous with folks who don’t bother sayin’ thank you?”

You blinked. “Figured you were just shy.”

That made him huff a laugh. “Is that what they’re callin’ it these days.”

You could see the back of his head tilt slightly, like he was chewing on whatever thought came next. Then he added, “Truth be told, I didn’t expect you to keep bringin’ those goods. Thought you’d give up after the second one went untouched.”

“They weren’t untouched,” you said quietly.

Another beat of silence.

“No,” he said at last. “No, they weren’t.”

And that was all he said.

Just enough to make your skin prickle.

You kept walking, telling yourself you were just tired. Just tired and rattled from everything with Mrs. Hatcher. But still, something in his voice made you wonder if the pies were all he’d been taking.

The road narrowed as you walked, the trees leaning in closer like they were listening, their bare branches creaking softly in the wind as though whispering to one another. Crickets had gone quiet somewhere along the way. You didn’t notice when. Just that the silence had started to hum, low and constant, like something was holding its breath.

“You always walk this way alone?” he asked, voice low like he was afraid to break something in the dark, or maybe like he hoped he would.

You glanced at him. “Most mornings.”

“Brave,” he muttered, though it didn’t sound like praise. “Folks ‘round here talk too much and see too little. That kind of silence’s dangerous when no one’s listenin’ right.”

“You listen?”

“Sometimes,” he said. Then, with a half-smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, “Don’t mean I always like what I hear.” You didn’t answer that. Just kept your eyes ahead, the trees curling over the path like ribs, and the moonlight catching in strange, pale flashes on the gravel. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken this road, but it felt unfamiliar now, like the dirt had been stirred different, like something unseen had stepped ahead of you first and left the path colder behind it.

“Why now?” you asked suddenly, the question clawing out before you could think better of it. “All this time, you never said a word. Never showed your face. Then tonight, after—” you didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to. The name didn’t need to be said again out loud.

He took his time responding, just like he took his time walking. “Reckon I just figured the timing was right.”

“That because of Mrs. Hatcher?”

That smile again. Crooked. Sharp at the edges. “Didn’t say that.”

You stopped walking for a beat, not because you meant to, but because something in your chest pulled tight. “But you didn’t say it wasn’t.”

He looked back at you slowly, eyes gleaming in the dark like wet stones, and for a second, his face was half-lit by the moon, carved in angles and shadows that didn’t look entirely human. “You ask a lot of questions for someone still walkin’ beside me.”

That stopped you more than anything. Not the words, but the way he said them—calm, like he was commenting on the weather. Like he already knew you’d keep walking anyway.

And you did.

Maybe it was foolishness. Maybe it was that same part of you that kept leaving pies at the door of a man you’d never seen, even when the dishes never came back. That stupid softness your mama used to call your ‘God-given curse.’ Either way, your feet moved before your mouth could argue.

Ten more minutes, you told yourself. Just ten more minutes. And then you’d turn around.

But deep down, you already knew you wouldn’t.

The woods felt suffocating, each step you took making the air grow thicker, heavier, as though something in the darkness was pressing against you. It wasn’t just the trees, it wasn’t just the silence. It was him.

Remmick walked ahead of you, so calm, so assured—like this was all part of some twisted game, and you were the only one who didn’t know the rules. His back was turned, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was aware of you, every movement of yours, every step you took.

Finally, you couldn’t do it anymore. The weight of his presence, the heavy silence, the way he didn’t even seem to care that you were still walking behind him—it all piled up. You had to say something.

“I think I’m just gonna head home,” you said, your voice shaky, betraying the panic you were trying to keep under control. “You can just give me the dishes and gifts another time.” Your words felt like a desperate attempt to break the tension, but they fell into the woods like a pebble into a deep, dark well—no echo, no response.

For a moment, there was nothing but the low rustling of the trees, the soft whisper of the night wind. Then, without turning to face you, his voice cut through the air—low, dark, chilling.

“Daft.”

It wasn’t a word. It was a sentence. A judgment.

You froze. His voice, though soft, felt like it was wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make it hard to breathe. Your heart skipped a beat, your skin prickling. You couldn’t tell whether it was fear, the cold, or something else entirely making your body shudder.

Your mouth went dry, but you tried to force out something—anything to break this moment, this growing nightmare. “I—I'm just not feeling well. I think I should go.”

You took a step back, but he wasn’t having it. He didn’t even turn to face you.

“Daft,” he repeated, sharper now. “You think I’d let you walk away after you followed me here?” Your breath hitched. Your feet felt glued to the ground, like the air was too thick to move through. You wanted to run, to scream, but your body betrayed you, stuck in place as if you were trapped in quicksand.

You looked at him now—his back still turned—but something about his posture had shifted. It wasn’t just his body language, though. It was in the air. It was in the space between you. Something darker had taken root, something unrecognizable.

He finally turned, slowly, deliberately, and the smile he gave you wasn’t the same one from earlier. There was nothing warm in it. It was sharp, cold, like a blade dragging across skin.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. His eyes locked onto yours, but they were different now—flickers of red deepening in the corners, glowing faintly in the dim light. He didn’t look human but at the same time he did.

He took a step closer, and you backed up, your heart pounding faster. But your feet wouldn’t move. You wanted to run, but your body was paralyzed. The closer he came, the harder it was to breathe. “You don’t just walk away from me, sugar,” he said, his voice smooth like silk, but each word felt like a weight. “You don’t follow me into the woods and think you can just... leave.”

There it was again—his smile, wider now, crueler. It made your stomach twist, nausea rising up your throat.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he asked, his voice almost too calm. “You think you’re safe, walking through the woods like this? Like I’m some normal guy you can just forget about?” He took another step toward you, and you felt yourself sway back, but your feet stayed planted.

His eyes were glowing now, too bright in the dark, his pupils slit like a predator’s. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be happening.

“You wanna know what it felt like?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing. The way he looked at you then—like he was studying something precious, something fragile—made a shiver crawl down your spine. “What it felt like to kill Mrs. Hatcher?”

You blinked, eyes wide. Your mouth opened, but no words came. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

“Her blood was so warm,” he whispered, as if speaking to himself, the words heavy with something sinister. “The moment my teeth sank into her throat, she stopped fighting. She knew. She knew she couldn’t outrun it, couldn’t escape me. But she didn’t stop trying, not at first. She kicked. She scratched. She screamed—but there was no sound. No sound at all once I got my hand over her mouth.”

You could barely hold your ground now, your legs trembling. Every word he said made you want to run, but your body was frozen, immobilized by something you couldn’t explain.

“She tried so hard to get away,” Remmick continued, his voice softer now, like he was savoring the memory. “But the harder she fought, the better it felt. I could feel her pulse—fast, frantic, desperate. It was like the world had slowed down, and all I could hear was the sound of her blood rushing, beating in her veins, until it wasn’t.”

Your body was shaking now, your hands clenched into fists by your sides. You couldn’t escape his gaze, couldn’t escape the pull of his voice.

“She went limp, finally. And I could taste it—the victory, the power. The moment her body stopped fighting? That was the moment I knew. I knew it was perfect.”

You felt sick, but you couldn’t look away. His eyes—those damn eyes—had you trapped, every word sinking deeper into your chest, twisting, turning.

“You should’ve stayed away,” he murmured, taking another step closer, and your body lurched, the terror of it all finally making your feet move. But not fast enough. “But now it’s too late darlin’ cause I intend to keep you for myself now.”

That was when you began running.

Branches whipped your arms and tore at your clothes, but you didn’t feel it. You were moving on instinct—raw, clumsy, frantic. The darkness swallowed the path, and still you ran, lungs burning, eyes stinging. You didn’t even know where you were going. Just away.

Behind you, his footsteps didn’t rush. He wasn’t chasing. He was following. Like a predator who already knew exactly where you’d end up. “Keep running,” he called, voice almost playful. Almost. “It’ll only make me want to fuck you harder.” You didn’t scream. You couldn’t. Your throat was tight with terror, your body buzzing with the kind of panic that drowns thought.

Then your foot caught—root, rock, something—and the forest flipped sideways. You hit the ground hard, your palms shredding on gravel and bark. The pain jolted up your arms and knocked the air from your lungs. You scrambled to your feet, but your ankle screamed the second you put weight on it. There wasn’t time—he was too close.

So you crawled. Half-dragging yourself through the underbrush, eyes wild, hands trembling, and ducked behind the thick trunk of a gnarled pine. You pressed yourself against the bark, heart slamming against your ribs so loud you were sure he could hear it. The forest had gone still.

Dead still.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to quiet your breathing, every breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps through your nose.

He yelled out your name—how’d he even know your name? There was a guttural edge to his voice—low, primal—that tore something loose in you. You cried silently, not daring to make noise, not out of fear, but because your body didn’t know what else to do.

He found you before you could move again — an arm slipping around your waist from behind. You barely had time to gasp before he pulled you back, gently but firmly, like you'd simply wandered too far. 

Then, without warning, your head was guided down, not slammed, but pressed hard enough into the earth that the shock still jarred you. Dizziness bloomed behind your eyes. By the time you blinked through it, Remmick was already on top of you, his body blanketing yours with a frightening calm. His chest pressed against your back, steady, too steady. One hand slid up, slow and deliberate, until it curled around your throat — not choking, just holding. Controlling.

A broken sound escaped you as tears streamed down your face, hot and helpless. Your fingers clawed instinctively at his hand, the one wrapped so carefully—so cruelly around your throat. There was no strength in your resistance, only fear and the desperate hope that he might hesitate. 

He takes his hand from your neck, and you barely register when it slips beneath your long nightgown. One hand forcefully parts your thighs—rough and possessive—while the other holds your wrists captive above your head. "You don’t even know," he murmurs, his voice almost gentle, as he continues "You're fortunate that I want you all to myself."

You try to push against his hold, but he only tightens his grip, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His words echo in your mind as fear and confusion swirl within you. You feel trapped, vulnerable beneath him as he looms over you with a hunger in his eyes that chills you to the core. 

You can see the intensity of his gaze fixed upon you, a mixture of desire and possession that makes your heart race with both terror and a strange, forbidden thrill. And as his lips brush against your ear, whispering promises of pleasure and pain, you can't help but wonder what fate has brought you to this moment, where his will dominates your own and the line between fear and longing blurs into something dangerous and intoxicating.

You don’t even notice he’s moved your undergarments aside, not warning you.You suddenly wince as he inserts two fingers at once, not bothering to be gentle. His breath is hot on your neck, his voice a low growl. "You're mine now. Every part of you belongs to me." You can feel his heartbeat, steady and calm, unlike your own which is pounding wildly against your ribs. His fingers move inside you, exploring, claiming, and you gasp, your body betraying you with a shiver of pleasure.

He shifts slightly, his lips trailing down from your ear to your collarbone, leaving a path of fire in their wake. "You can fight it all you want," he whispers, his voice like velvet darkness, "but your body knows who it belongs to." His thumb finds your most sensitive spot, circling slowly, deliberately, drawing out a moan from deep within you despite the fear that still lingers in your eyes.

You buck against him, a futile attempt to deny the sensations coursing through you.

He laughs softly against your skin, a sound that resonates with triumph. His teeth graze your shoulder, a gentle bite that should be a warning, but your mind is a swirl of confusion and desire. The nightgown tangles around your waist as he shifts again, releasing your wrists to push the fabric higher.

Oddly enough, when your fight waned, that was when things…changed. "There she is," he says, his hands warm on your bare hips. You know you should run, scream, do anything to break free from the spell his touch weaves around you, but your muscles betray you, your body succumbing in various ways as pleasure envelops you completely.

"You were made for this," he breathes, his eyes dark with certainty. He pins you down again, and this time you don’t struggle, the fight leaving your limbs as your own desires betray you. You can sense the mounting bliss intensifying within you, building pressure in your lower core as you teeter on the edge, about to climax on his fingers.

He watches your face closely, like a man studying a piece of art, ready for the moment when it overtakes you. "There you go darlin’," he murmurs, urging you on, and the sound of his voice is the final push. You cry out as waves of release crash through you and every nerve in your body sings with surrender.

He holds you through it, his fingers slowing to a languid pace until your breathing evens and your heart calms, pulling back slightly to look at you, satisfaction etched across his face. He removes his fingers slowly and careful, you don’t even have a second to even catch a break before you can hear the rustling of his belt and pants and you know what's coming. He parts your legs wider, opening you to him again, and presses against your entrance.

“Gonna claim ya real good now darlin’, you’re doing such a good job.” The sensation of him entering you is intense—stretching, burning, and pulling you apart with the thick, weighty movement of his shaft. He fills you completely, every inch commanding submission, and you arch under him, the feeling overwhelming and all-consuming.

 His hands grip your hips, steadying you, pulling you closer as he begins to move. He thrusts slow and deep, each motion a deliberate staking of his claim, and your body responds in ways you can't control, meeting his rhythm, rising to meet him as he buries himself inside you over and over.

Your mind reels with the impossibility of it, the way desire silences resistance, and your body betrays every instinct to flee, surrendering instead to the brutal, relentless pleasure he forces upon you. You gasp his name, a broken plea caught between a cry and a moan, and he only pushes harder, his breath hot and wild against your throat.

"That's it," he groans, his voice rough with need, "take it all."

As he bent down to kiss you, you without thinking returned the gesture. His thumb grazed your damp skin, and a soft hum in his throat soon transformed into a groan. You didn't desire it, nor did your mind, yet it seemed as though your body was operating independently, driven by hormones.

His hand snaked through your hair, pulling gently as his lips pressed against yours with a fierce hunger. The kiss deepened, full of demand and promise, his teeth and tongue teasing you until you couldn't tell where you ended and he began. The force of it all—the thrusting, the kissing, the claiming—pulled you further into a daze where pleasure eclipsed pain, and you were lost, floating on the brink of something infinite.

Your body arched helplessly, wave after wave of sensation leaving you breathless, raw, and vulnerable. He quickened his pace, his movements more urgent, pushing you both toward an inevitable release. The air was thick with the sound of skin on skin, punctuated by his ragged breaths and your own soft, involuntary cries. It was too much, too fast, and yet nothing else mattered in those moments but the wild, terrible ecstasy of being taken, utterly and completely. 

You closed your eyes, too overcome with the overstimulation, he curved his hips deeper into you.  “Open your eyes darlin’.” He says getting your attention again. You obeyed, though some quiet part of you understood how dangerous it was—how locking eyes with the one unraveling you piece by piece would only carve the memory deeper.

"Don’t look away," he breathed, his nose brushing yours with each slow, deliberate motion—like he needed you to witness what he was doing. You did, though your vision blurred with the weight of it all. Maybe it was instinct, maybe something deeper—but you obeyed. Looking into his eyes was like staring down a storm: wild, old, and wholly untamable.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he murmured again, breath hitching against your cheek, his drawl low and possessive. “Ain’t no one ever gonna see you like this but me, you understand?”

The air felt thick, like the woods themselves were leaning in to watch. His nose brushed yours with every movement, his brow pressed to your temple. You weren’t sure when the tears started again, but they did—quiet, unrelenting.

“You’re mine now,” he breathed, voice coated in something reverent and frightening all at once. “Ain’t just sayin’ that either—I felt it in my bones the second I saw you. Like God carved you out just for me.”

As he continued to whisper shameful, dirty words to you, saying things like you’d never leave him, and as he still relentelly thrusted into you, his mouth found your neck—then came the sharp, sinking pain of his bite. It wasn’t just teeth. It was a claim. A seal. Something final.

And in the haze of it all, in the breathless dark, you stopped fighting the truth. Somewhere between fear and surrender… you accepted it.

Compliance - Chapters list

Summary:  Following her act of defiance, a history teacher finds herself in the crosshairs of Hydra’s Supreme Leader, Steve Rogers.

Pairing: Hydra Supreme! Steve Rogers x Black! Reader

Keep reading

I would've said yeah

Dear Diary

Summary: Smoke and Stack read your diary to find out you’ve been crushing on Stack more than him.

A/N: This was the dynamic I picked up on; Smoke is mean-ish and headstrong while Stack is playful and easy going. 

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Sexual content

Looking through her online calendar, Tallie proceeds to make a note of the catering orders for the week ahead.

“Journal time!” She beams, reaching to the shelf for the notebook that keeps her thoughts, experiences and feelings a secret. But to no avail. She searched everywhere for it!

“For a pink fluffy hardcover, it should not be that hard to spot.” She mutters pacing around her room.

Meanwhile…

Smoke is running through the Club Juke ledger, while Stack creates the monthly ad for their social media pages.

“Since when do you keep a notebook?” Smoke asks his twin, pointing at the pink feathered jotter in the midst of their bookstand.

“Do I look like I even like writing?” he replies with a guffaws, lounging on velvet wood settee. With mild curiosity, Smoke wedges the jotter from it's place. The feathers on the spine tickle him as he glides a finger down the hardcover, opening the unknown jotter.

‘Dear diary, Today was a blast at Club Juke! They loved the food and it was great meeting the rest of the team-

“Cute.” a twitch forming at the corner of his lips, remembering the look of joy in Tallie’s eyes. He keeps reading with intrigue.

St and Sm kept me entertained again while doing their meal prep, and boyyyy was I grateful for the distraction. Sm was intimidating (as per usual) so it didn't bother me when he left. St stayed with me tho❤️  I love like when St's around. The playful glint of his eyes and wide stance when he lurks in the hall makes my thigh clench. and his eyes. his muthafreakin eyes! They just draw me in. I’d loveee to see 'em eyes roll back when/if I ride his fac-’

“Woah, that’s enough” Smoke mutters to himself

“You’ll never believe what’s been written on these pages” He shares, passing the jotter over to Stack with the leather tassel bookmark wedged open on the page in question.

Stack collects the jotter with a suspicious glance, taking in the feminine attributes of the dainty pages. He flips it closed to check for a name but there is none, he returns to the indicated page. As he reads, his eyebrows raise, he swallows spit causing his adam apple to bobble, before smirking.

“I think Tallie should swing by… we do need a meal prep soon” He grins, Smoke nods and drafts a note to send.

Back at Tallie’s…

A shiver shocks her bones, a superstition that a conversation is being had on her behalf. The diary is yet to be found and that makes her worry even more. In the wrong hands, it could spoil her good girl reputation. A ding is heard from the laptop resting on her desk; an email notification.

Meal prep requests from Smoke&Stack Twins. (Accept/Decline)

She smiles with relief while accepting the order, it’s always breeze cooking for them. Tallie shoots a quick reply to confirm the time and date.

———

With no luck, her diary remains lost and the appointment with the twins was here. She wanted to write a quick piece before seeing them, it would help keep her feelings at bay.

“I’ll be fine” She assures herself greeting the staff at the concierge and walking up to their floor. Tallie knocks on the door in a cheerfully way while waiting for someone to let her in.

Silence.

“They know I’m comin', right?” She says waiting patiently.

With another knock, a buzz of the bell and no response she lets herself in. The hallway is eerily quiet so she turns on the lights that lead to the kitchen. All the ingredients are already laid out on the prep corner of the kitchen counter. Butter, eggs, sugar, flour, vanilla extract, cinnamon, pecans; seems like the twins are craving pastries this week. Tallie hears a baritone mumble and quickly glances around the open plan room. Lo and behold Smoke has been lounging on the couch, the whole damn time. 

“Didn’t you hear the bell?!” She snaps at Smoke, he is the only one present. Her tone is sharp, yes, but not writing in the diary has left her on edge. Especially today... the hidden thoughts were running wild.

Choosing the perfect time to emerge, Stack walks in through the hallway in a regal terry cotton robe. She peers up at his face and eyes him to his feet. His hair is damp with the robe hung loosely around his torso. The belt not fully tied. She glances back up, his eyes already catching her lustful stare. Flustered, she looks down and then back to Smoke, who remains on the couch.

“Is she taking that tone with you or me?” Smoke asks turning to his twin with a mischievous smirk, to which Stack smirks back with a shrug.

“I don’t need to be here.” She whisper but not quietly enough. 

“Yeah but you want to be here… don’t you?” The mischief behind his smirk is now exposed as he point to the item in Smoke’s hand. Lifting up his left hand with a sway, you see the features of a very familiar notebook.

“That’s my diary!” She squirms. His back is faced away from her but she knew he is smirking like a cat that caught a canary. The flight or fight response has kicked in. Just as Tallie decides to make an attempt to run and snatch it, Stack strolls over to the kitchen counter shaking his head in warning. She freezes, glancing through her peripheral at Smoke still with her diary held high, the tassel moves…mocking her in an Irish jig. Stack steps closer to hover behind her, reading her bright eyes and steady breaths. The rope frees from its hold and leaves him open, chest bare and clad in fitting undergarments.

She gasps as he turns her flushed against the counter, facing the torment of her lust. His hands rest on the countertop, caging Tallie in. 

“Secret’s out brown sugar” He growls into her ear.

Smoke finally turns to face them, striding to the empty counter stool. He positions himself directly opposite Tallie and Stack, still smirking and flipping through the pages. She attempts to nab it back but is left bent at the waist and pressed on the surface. Stack remains behind her, tracing delicate touches across the small of her back. Keeping his hips still but firm enough for her to feel the warmth of his nether regions.

“Give it back!” She barks, suddenly fuelled by desire and fear.

“You need to watch that tone Tallie” Stack warns from behind her, removing his hand from her back and returning it to the countertop. She whimpers at the loss of his warm and rich touch.

“I knew you didn’t see me like how we both see you” Smoke starts “You sure do express yourself more on a page than in person.”

She response with a glare, keeping a sharp gaze on him and her silly little diary. ‘Don’t falter, don’t falter, don’t falter’ she thinks to herself, but Stack's gentle caress on her arm cause a shiver to crawl up her spine and lashes to flutter in want.

“I don’t know… what your talking abo-”

Stack smirks at her denial as he tugs Tallie upright, fitting into the curve of her back as he latches onto her neck. A loud mewl escapes her lips as he savagely nibbles, licks and sucks at the pulsing jugular.

“St-tack” she stutter intwining their fingers, pulling his hand to her bountiful chest. 

“Whose eyes do you want to see roll back?” Smoke demands, gloating at her demise. “Seems like it’s yours, huh?”

“W-whaa-?” Another moan slips out as Stack attacks her viciously. She always had a feeling that he had a way, with that thick tongue of his. From watching him wrap his joints to it poking out when he counts a stack of bills. Bring her back to the earthy plane, he eases off her neck moving to nibble at curve of her lobe.

“It is mine?” Stack asks, pressing the stiffening bulge of his thickness against the cleft of her rounded plump cheeks. All this while Smoke remains vigilant, stoic and unbothered.

“I-i want… w-want” she stutters, eyes flickering like a light in a horror movie, unable to handle the balance of Smoke’s smouldering gaze and Stack’s desire-filled touch. 

“Talk to us Tallie” Smoke mocks her, still firm in his demeanour.

“I want my diary back!” She cries out in longing and thirst. Being touched but not touched enough left her in a limbo. It felt like punishment. The teasing, the taunting, the edging  just because of her silly little diary. These men are a force to worship; more than just their aura, more than just their fierce gaze, everything.

“Still got tha’ tone on her Stack” Smoke says with a shrug of his hands and shoulders “You got work to do.”

He stands up and pushes the diary open on the last entry, the title ridicules her ‘Stack&Smoke twins’. Stack moves away from her space, she whines, eyes begging him not to let go.

“Relax” Smoke whispers smugly.

Stack crouches down, making his way under the flimsy fabric of her summer dress. Comfortably sat on the pristine marble flooring. With the back of his head resting against the cupboard doors, he looks up at her. The eyes that draw her in, the eyes that burn with so much compassion and power.

She looks down in acknowledgement, trapping his head between her warm supple thighs like a cushion. Smoke whistles. Her attention returns back to him as he winks. 

“I’d love to give you more, but that diary’s in your hands now.” He states, stroking the tent formed by his covered length. Deviously taking in her expression.

Her breath hitches at the gentle swat across her southern breed cheeks.

“And so it begins” She hears Stack mumble beneath her. 

He grips the thighs, holding her in place. The fabric of her panties is transparent, the wetness creating a friction. With the tip of his nose sliding against her covered lips.

His tongue follows the out line of her puffy lips through the fabric. tracing each curve up to her pulsing swollen clit and down to the entrance of her waterfall. He glides along, sucking at the fabric, wanting to taste it all.

“Pll-eease Sttackk” She begs

There’s a tut in the background. Smoke is still root on the chair, captivated at her lust.

“Ask properly” He advises, zoned in on her nipple that tries to escape the fitted blouse.

Stack nips at her inner thigh, swatting her cheeks twice in admonishment. She corrects her fault immediately, knowing what needs to be said.

“P-pl-lease Smo-ke, please Stackkk” She purrs.

With a nod, he pulls her panties to the side and slips in like a thief in the night. Tallie grinds on his thick warm wet tongue, his nose tapping at the clit. Her eyes tear-up and her fingers clenching into a fist, she watches as Smoke beckons her to lean forward. He pulls her bottom lip open, invading he mouth with his thumb. At the same time, Stack swats her again and grips the heated flesh pulling her onto him fully. Not hovering, he wants her whole weight.

The gaze from Smoke was intense, the simultaneous pressure from Stack causes her to buck on him with passion. Tallie sucks hard on his thumb, spit wetting his finger and down into his palm. He snatches his thumb back while maintain the leering look of lust she held in her soul. He moves beneath his hand under his slacks and toys with the tip of his throbbing head, the wetness of her mouth on his thumb giving him enough friction. She mewls in delight as his paces quickens.

Stack isn’t letting up either, her slit is plunged with his fingers and her sensitive nub caressed by his tongue not yet giving her what she wanted. What she truly needed.

He keeps a steady paces dancing around her clit as the wetness pool on his tongue like warm honey, down his goatee and across his face. Tallie lets out an whiny plea, asking for nothing but moaning feverishly. 

"She's close" Smoke mutters.

Swats her again in warning, stack reaches the sweet spot and thrashes his tongue. Deperatse for her desire, her juice, her warm honey. Tallie let's go with a screech. She spasms on his tongue riding until her knees buckle, her eyes are back on Smoke wanting to he him finish with her. But he keeps his length hidden from her view stroking it enough to release some tension.

Tallie can feel it. Stack can feel it. Smoke can feel it. It was in the air, the moment, she felt the gravity in the room suddenly drop, then a burst of warmth as he floods Stack with the essence of her womanhood. The twins groans in admiration. Smoke lets go of his length, still tight and hard. Stack just as burdened but makes no more to relieve his discomfort.

It was all about her, these twins were selfless to the core. Smoke walks away snatching the diary from where is fell.

“You off all people should kno’” Stack starts as he stands up, placing a kiss along her chin and down her throat “Closed mouth don’t get fed.”

Tallie still in shock at the energy of the twins, blurts the first though that comes to mind.

“Do I still have to bake?”

“Do you want a bun in your oven?” The twins reply simultaneously. 

She watches as they glance over their shoulder to peer at her, mischief written all over their faces.

—The End—

A/N: Watch the movie if you haven’t already!!!! (p.s did y'all notice the play on words with her waiting to be 'let in'?)

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | Masterlist

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

𝔦.

𝔦𝔦.

𝔦𝔦𝔦.

𝔦𝔳.

𝔳.

𝔳𝔦.

𝔳𝔦𝔦.

𝔳𝔦𝔦𝔦.

𝔦𝔵.

𝔵.

𝔈𝔭𝔦𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

‘23.

If you black and still active, reblog this.

YESS

Don't Make It Harder On Me

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Characters: Miguel Galindo x woc!reader

Summary: You broke it off for good reason, but that doesn't mean Miguel is willing to let you go. Especially when he knows you aren't over him either.

Word Count: 9k (bro wtf)

Warnings: my poor attempt at some angst, cheating, violence, general language warning, fingering, pet names, miguel being a lil bossy, also miguel talking a lil shit ayyee, sex in risky places, choking, mirror sex.

A/N: Whew chile it's been a minute but this is me attempting to break my hiatus while also trying to feed yall some good ol mayans content. I was gonna break this up into two parts but then I said fuck it. Hope yall don't hate that. I gave it a look over but I might have missed some errors and typos. My bad if I did. The divider is by @firefly-graphics

DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. If you like it don’t forget to reblog and share with others who might enjoy it as well.

It was never your intention to get involved with a married man, in fact all your life you swore that you’d never be a man’s mistress. That was before Miguel Galindo came sweeping into the little boutique looking to buy an anniversary gift for his wife. You had been swept up in the tailored suit, suave demeanor, smooth voice, and God was he charming. If you hadn’t known better you could have sworn he had been flirting with you the whole time you assisted him that day. It hadn’t gone further than that, you had insisted on trying not to cross that line. 

He didn’t make it easy for you though, visits becoming more frequent and him insisting you be the one to lead him around the boutique as he shopped for various people in his life. It wasn’t until a heated moment when you almost cracked under the sexual tension that had built to the point that stifling was the only way it could be described. “You’re married.” You had told him, breathless as his mouth peppered kisses along your jaw and down your throat. His beard scratched against your soft skin as his fingers gripped against the curve of your hips. 

“What if I wasn’t?” You didn’t know it but the man had been steadily growing disenchanted with his wife. The love he had once felt for her eventually giving way to resentment and well on its way to being nothing at all. It was her own doing, an inability to stay away from an ex boyfriend, keeping secrets, and not being able to accept his other world. 

“If you weren’t we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” You breathed out, finally finding the will to push Miguel away from you so that you could steady your breathing and smooth out your clothes. “I’m not about to be your side chick, Miguel. And if you’re willing to cheat on your wife then you’re willing to do me dirty as well.” You explained, turning to look at yourself in the dressing room mirror while Miguel stood behind you with a sobering look on his face. 

“I don’t love her anymore, she’s not the woman I thought she was. I’m only with her until the lawyers work out a way to ensure I get custody of my son.” 

Your gaze met his in the mirror, a soft sigh on your lips as you tried to sort out how you felt about the admission. “Don’t make this harder on me.” You whisper, his confession didn’t change anything, he was still married and you were still concerned that he was just talking a good game. One you desperately wanted to believe. Picking up his purchases, you left him there in the dressing room, satisfied that you didn’t look like you had nearly let yourself be seduced by the man. 

“Mrs. Galindo, what a surprise to see you here.” Came the voice of the shop owner, almost a bit too loud as if she were trying to warn you that the wife had just walked in. You sighed, just what you wanted to deal with that day. You stepped into the main area of the boutique, a forced smile on your lips as you took in the blonde standing there at the counter. She regarded you for a moment, almost dismissively with a sniff as she read the name on the badge you wore. It was a name she had seen often, in fact your name was on every single one of the receipts that Emily had pulled from the boutique's bags when she was going through them. Miguel always insisted you ring him up so that you reached your sales quota. Clearly Emily was feeling some type of way now that she was finally able to lay eyes on you. 

You were everything she wasn’t in the looks department, and as confident as she was, you had her shook. Especially when Miguel appeared from the dressing room area of the store and took a moment to place a hand against your shoulder to offer his thanks for always being so helpful. It would have seemed innocent enough had it not been for the way that his hand lingered. Emily’s eyes had zeroed in on it, and Miguel seemed to be oblivious to that fact. You were hyper aware of it, a swell of guilt over taking you at the thought that you had nearly fucked this woman’s husband just minutes ago, and now he was acting like she wasn’t even standing there. 

“Will this be all, Mr. Galindo?” You questioned, stepping away from him and starting to ring up his items while he seemed to take the hint that maybe, just maybe he should not make things harder on you while his wife was standing there. 

“Yes, thank you.” He replied, tone taking on a more reserved quality as he moved to where his wife stood and greeted her with a kiss and a few affectionate words. To your credit you didn’t let yourself glare at the display, even as your stomach twisted with jealousy at the sight. You kept your eyes down, only looking up to give the total which Miguel paid for and then it happened. Emily Galindo found a way to make you feel a little less guilty about wanting to fuck her husband. As you lifted the bag to hand to Miguel, his wife reached out in a flash to snatch the bag from your hands. She had barely had your attention up until that point, but now? Now you were outright staring at her in a way that said the bitch had you all the way fucked up. As if sensing the tension, Miguel was quick to put an arm around Emily and escort her towards the door. Stopping to look over his shoulder to mouth ‘sorry’ at you as he shook his head. 

After that day you were more aware of Emily Galindo’s presence around town, it was almost like she was making appearances just to be seen. Some days even stopping into the boutique to buy something and oh so innocently asking if there was anything to pick up for Miguel. You never assisted her, Emily even going out of her way to have someone else ring up the purchases so your quota would come up short. Of course when Miguel found out about that he found his ways around it, making sure that on the off chance that Emily would make an appearance in the boutique that everything was already paid for and the credit for the sale had gone to you. Things went on like that for a couple of weeks, and you tolerated it. Thinking nothing more of Emily’s behavior as petty, childish, and fueled by jealousy. 

Then came the fateful day that you were working late, and just so happened to catch sight of Emily Galindo in the arms of another man. She even kissed him, on the cheek, the way her lips lingered giving you the impression that there was something more going on. You didn’t know why you did it, but you’d taken a couple of pictures of the exchange between Emily and the man that wore a Mayan kutte. 

The temptation to attach the photos to a text and send them to Miguel was strong, but then the creeping thought of; what if she’s only been chased into the arms of another man because of Miguel’s interest in you? That was the only thing that kept you from setting Emily’s life on fire, but the reprieve would prove to be short lived when a week later Nestor made a rare solo appearance in the boutique as you were preparing to close up. 

“Nestor, you know we’re closing in five minutes right?” You questioned, tone friendly and still welcoming even though you were partly concerned and confused about why he was there. You and Nestor had a cordial and somewhat friendly relationship, it was mostly due to Miguel seemingly insisting that you and his right hand man were on good terms. You didn’t know Nestor well, but you knew he was loyal and cared about Miguel deeply. It was something that you could respect and appreciate, even if you were resistant to starting something with Miguel due to his marriage you had grown to care about him. It was why the pictures of Emily and her mystery Mayan were still burning in your phone and why you’d taken a few more in the days after when her visits became a little more frequent. 

“Yeah I know, I actually wanted to talk to you.” That got your attention, and your hands stilled against the shirts that you were folding. 

“About?” 

“What’s going on with you and Miguel?” 

You took a breath, looking over at the man with an almost tired expression. 

“Nothings going on.” You answered, gaze quickly dropping as you resumed your folding. 

“But you want there to be something.” Nestor was observant, and you supposed you hadn’t been as covert as you possibly could have with your longing glances and wry smiles around Miguel. “You care about him?” 

“Nestor what is this about? Because if you’re here to tell me I should leave him alone then trust me, I already know. Okay? I can’t control what that man does. He’s a cartel leader, he basically owns the town. I have been doing my best to set boundaries, but I can’t make him stop pursuing me. So if that’s why you’re here then you need to have that conversation with him, because I’ve already tried. Alright? I mean I remind him every single time I see him that he’s married.” You were rambling, venting almost as you started to unload all this on Nestor who just stood quietly and listened. 

“Honestly, you don’t know how hard it is for me to see him and pretend that I don’t care about him as much as I do. Or keep things from him because I know it’s not my place to tell him what his wife has been up to.” 

“Wait, what?” 

You shut up then, realizing that in your unburdening you let it slip that you were privy to information that wasn’t known. 

“What has his wife been up to?” 

“Nestor—”

“If you care about him you’ll tell me what you know.” 

That was a dirty card to play, but Nestor didn’t play fair. Sighing heavily you moved behind the sales counter and pulled your phone from where it rested beside the register. “About a week ago I was running a bit late with closing, and I spotted Emily with some guy in a biker kutte.” You explained pulling up the incriminating photos before handing the phone to Nestor so that he could see for himself. His lack of reaction struck you as strange, if anything he didn’t look surprised at all.

“Why didn’t you tell Miguel about it?” He questioned, tapping on the screen and quickly sending the photos to his phone before you could stop him. 

“Well I didn’t think it would be fair of me to blow her up when I’m likely the reason she’s all hugged up with another man. I mean come on, you saw her that day when she came into the shop. I’m sure she’s aware that Miguel has a wandering eye.” 

“He doesn’t have a wandering eye, he just doesn’t love her anymore.” Nestor replied absently as he sat your phone down and focused on his own. “And you aren’t the reason why she stepped out. Miguel’s been suspicious for months now that she’s been trying to rekindle something with her ex.” Your mouth dropped open slightly, brow furrowed as you processed that bit of information. So Miguel hadn’t been lying when he said he was preparing to leave her, and you weren’t the reason why she was seemingly stepping out. That seemed to make any remaining guilt evaporate in an instant. 

“Nestor, could you tell him to call me?” Nestor just nodded, not questioning it as he left you to finish closing up the boutique. 

By the time you got home, Miguel’s name was flashing across your screen and for the first time since he’d manage to somehow get your number, you didn’t chastise him for calling you so late. 

Things only escalated from there, and the two of you began to see much more of each other. There were late night visits, gifts, dates out of town, sometimes even out of state. You’d even been in his house, and around his son and mother while Emily was out doing who knew what. His men had even gotten used to seeing you around, growing fond of you as you always came bearing gifts and a friendly smile for them. Part of you knew that endearing yourself to them would play a big part in them wanting to keep Miguel’s secret relationship with you out of more than just fear of the man. 

Emily still made her appearances, and tempted you to throw it in her face that you knew she wasn’t as devoted and loyal as she tried to pretend she was. You let the truth die on your tongue as you kept up the mask of professionalism while knowing Miguel would be buried inside you by the end of the day.

You put up with it for another month, and in that time things seemed to take a turn for Emily Thomas. First her Mayan ex found himself with a new girlfriend, a pretty girl named Gabriela that you thought was sweet. She’d only come into the boutique you worked at a couple of times looking for a new dress, and you two had chatted easily. You may or may not have told her to leave herself open to the possibility of something blooming between her and the Mayan who you had come to know was named Ezekiel. Apparently Gaby had taken your advice, and now with no other romantic option, Emily was doing her best to try and hold onto her dead marriage. 

Her answer to attempting to stoke the flame between her and Miguel was a resort trip, one where it’d just be her and him while their son remained with a nanny. Jealousy had sparked at that, especially when Miguel agreed to the trip with the excuse of having to keep up appearances. You had been angry, but then you decided to be petty. 

It was just a few pictures, pictures of you wearing nothing but the most recent set of very pricey lingerie that Miguel had gifted you. It was meant to simply remind him what he was missing out on, but apparently it was more effective than you expected. The end of your shift came, and as if on cue Miguel’s black suv came to a halt in front of the building. Before you knew it you were being ushered inside the spacious backseat, and he had you in his arms as he pulled you into his lap with a searing kiss on your lips. 

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with her.” You questioned once you’d caught your breath, and your head had stopped swimming from the kiss. 

“I told her there was an emergency here in Santo Padre, I have to go back in the morning.” He answered, and you didn’t need him to elaborate on what the emergency was. You could feel it pressing up against your core. Something about knowing that the man would rather be with you than on some sunny beach with her stoked your ego in the worst way. Miguel only fed into it as he let his mouth latch onto your neck to leave a trail of open mouth kisses. 

“You just couldn’t resist sending me those pictures could you?” He questioned a moment later, his hands already venturing under your skirt to push your panties aside. By the time the vehicle had pulled off from in front of the boutique he was knuckle deep inside of you, and you were moaning into his neck shamelessly. You were aware of the man in the front seat driving, and to his credit he made sure to keep his eyes on the road and took it upon himself to turn on the radio. It was a false sense of privacy, but you hardly cared as Miguel’s fingers worked that spongy spot nestled in your core that never failed to have your toes curling. 

“I had to remind you what you had waiting on you back home.” You managed to get out, your lipstick smudging against his collar as you moved against his fingers. “Had to give you something to think about in case you had to fuck her.” You added with a mischievous grin that had him growling in the back of his throat. 

“Oh preciosa, were you jealous?” His fingers thrust into you more insistently, bringing a needy moan out of you. “Were you worried that you’d have to share cock this with her?” His question had you pouting for a moment, hating that it was true. “Don’t worry, princesa. It won’t be long before she’s out of the picture, and you’ll have me all to yourself.” It was a promise, you knew it, but part of you was growing impatient with how long things were taking. Luckily for Miguel his fingers inside you were proving to be the perfect distraction from you asking how much longer it’d be before he presented the divorce papers. 

“I’m close, Miguel.” You moaned, hearing his hum of approval as he snaked his free hand up to grip you by the back of your neck as he guided you in for another heated kiss. He worked his fingers against that sweet spot until you were falling over the edge and crying out for him. Miguel swallowed your moans greedily, fingers still thrusting into you as he let you ride out your orgasm against them. 

“That’s my good girl, let’s get inside.” He gave your ass a slap, jolting you back to reality enough for you to realize that he’d brought you to his house. Quickly you moved out of his lap and smoothed out your clothes to be presentable before you got out of the vehicle. There was no need to sneak in, his staff knew you by that point and seemed to like you more than they did Emily. In any case, Miguel wasted no time in getting you into his bedroom and having his way with you. At some point after a couple rounds, and a steamy shower you had pulled Miguel in front of the bathroom mirror to snap a picture with him. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken a picture with him, and just like all the other ones you’d posted on your insta you made sure his face was concealed. 

As the saying goes; No face, no case. 

Except for the fact that you didn’t expect Emily to hunt down your instagram after the vacation was over and she had been stewing with her suspicions. You also didn’t expect her to recognize the setting. More importantly you didn’t expect her to show up at the boutique one night, screaming and raving that she knew you were fucking her husband. Unfortunately that was exactly what had happened. 

Emily blew into the boutique like a storm, making a beeline for you only to be cut off by the two employees that were working while the owner quickly ushered you to the back. You could hear it all though, she sounded insane and she was clearly looking for an altercation. Before you even knew what you were doing you were dialing Miguel. 

“Preciosa, I’m going to hav—”

“How much do you still love your wife?” The question struck him silent for all of a second before you could hear the sound of him moving away from the voices in the background. 

“What type of question is that, you know I don’t.” 

“I’m just making sure, because she’s here making a fucking scene and if I have to put hands on her I’m not about to hesitate.” 

“Mi amor, I’m on my way. Don’t do anything drastic.” 

“I’ll try, but if she doesn’t leave I’m going to make her.” You hung up then, the sound of Emily’s yelling floating back to settle on your ears before you made your way back to the front. You refused to hide from her, and if she wanted smoke you had plenty of it for her. Her yelling ceased for only a moment, just long enough for you to reappear from the back to see her on the phone before she was looking up at you again with an accusing glance. 

“Did you fucking call my husband? You whore! You did, didn't you!” She hadn’t hung up the phone, and you could hear Miguel’s voice shouting for Emily to calm down. It was too late for that, and she had already pushed through the two employees that had been trying to keep you two separated. “You’re so pathetic, you had to call MY husband to save you!” 

And then she slapped you. 

Everything went quiet, so quiet that a pin could be heard dropping. 

“I don’t need a man to save me, bitch. But you’re gonna.” It was the only warning that you gave the bleach blonde before your fist struck out and connected with her nose. There was a crunch but that didn’t stop you from following her down as she fell to the ground. Your fist connected a few more times, before she was grappling with you, having the nerve to pull on your hair before you broke her hold and popped her right in the mouth. Your fist was raised to land another blow before you felt yourself being lifted in the air by strong arms, and your first instinct was to fight until a familiar voice cut through the chaos. 

“¡Cálmate, por favor!” It was Miguel, you had no idea where he had been to get there so fast but you could feel him keeping a firm grip on you as you made an attempt to lunge at Emily as she crawled, stumbled, and dragged herself to her feet unsteadily. 

“Call the police! I want the police!” She screamed, already playing the victim even though she had instigated the ass beating she’d just got. 

“Em—” Miguel had started only to be cut off. 

“No, I want the cops here. Or I want that slut dealt with.” She was bleeding from the mouth, and shaking as she looked around wildly only to find that no one was making a move to do what she wanted. 

“I’m so sorry, Senor Galindo. Your wife, she…” The owner of the boutique shook her head as she glanced between you and the beaten Emily. “She came in here screaming, and then she attacked her. My employee was just defending herself.” The woman explained motioning to you, not realizing that Miguel already knew exactly what had transpired after overhearing the exchange after Emily had forgotten to hang up her phone before she attacked. 

“Is this true?” The question was posed to his men that had accompanied Emily into the boutique and simply stood back and let it all play out. They nodded silently and Emily seemed to realize then that she had no allies. “Nestor, take this young lady and put her in my car.” You couldn’t see it over your shoulder, but you could feel the anger radiating off of Miguel as he glared hard at Emily. Nestor said nothing as he gathered you under one of his arms and guided you past Emily who had the good sense to jump back when you came close. She didn’t move fast enough and Nestor didn’t have as tight of a hold on you as he thought, because as soon as you were close enough you lunged, hands grabbing and latching onto Emily’s blonde hair. 

“Shit!” Nestor shouted, moving after you to drag you back but it was too late. Your grip was already locked in and as he dragged you towards the door of the boutique Emily was dragged along with you kicking and screaming. It took some doing, but between three grown men they were able to get you off of her and outside, but not before you had one last thing to say. 

“Let me know when you’re ready for round two, bitch!” You could hear Nestor sigh as he led you outside, and ushered you into the back seat of Miguel’s car. 

“You okay?” He questioned, sighing again when you didn’t answer and focused your attention on the view outside the window. You were too pissed to speak at the moment, hands still shaking as your body practically vibrated with rage as you fought every instinct to not rush back inside and finish what Emily had started. Just when you were ready to go and do that, Miguel appeared and silently climbed into the back of the vehicle. Carefully he took your shaking hands into his and brought his lips to your aching knuckles to drop gentle kisses against them as he murmured his apologies. 

“I am so sorry, mi amor. This should have never happened, you should have never been put into a situation where you would have to fight because of me.” His words were a bit of a balm to your still simmering temper, and a reminder that you were clearly his priority despite his current marital status. Still that wasn’t enough, and after what had just happened you were done waiting for the right time or the right moment. 

“I’m not doing this anymore.” You said simply, causing Miguel to pause and meet your gaze. “I’m not about to be on the sideline while you play house with that unstable bitch. You either figure your shit out and divorce her or you leave me the fuck alone.” 

You could see the hard set in Miguel’s jaw as he let your words settle in his mind. “Preciosa I—” 

“No! That woman came to my job, called me out my name, and put hands on me. You don’t get to sweet talk your way out of this. I’m done until you show me that you’re no longer a married man.” You hated giving an ultimatum but the events of the night had left you with no choice. “Oh, and if I see her again I’m beating her ass on sight every time. Now take me home.” 

Miguel hadn’t argued with you, letting you stay on your side of the vehicle the entire ride back to your place. His attempt at saying goodbye was cut off by the slamming of the suv’s door as you stalked to the front door of your apartment. 

A month went by with no calls, no text, and no appearances from Miguel. Emily was MIA as well, and life was quiet. Part of you figured that Miguel had turned out to be just another married man who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. So you did the only thing you could, you tried to move on despite the bitter heartache that you felt. You figured it was the price you had to pay for falling for a married man, rarely did they ever actually leave their wives. Especially when there was a child in the mix. You didn’t doubt that he wanted out, but the saying has always been ‘it’s cheaper to keep her’ for a reason. 

By the second month you found yourself in a new relationship with a man who was single when he met you. He was kind, handsome, he had a good job, and he doted on you. He didn’t judge you when you finally told him why your last relationship fell through. Another four months passed and the relationship blossomed, you weren’t necessarily in love with him yet, but you thought to yourself that you could see yourself falling if things stayed that good. At least that was what you kept telling yourself in an effort to bury that little bit of your heart that still yearned for Miguel. 

The fact that he was on your mind when you heard the knock at your front door should have been a warning, but you weren’t expecting any visitors that evening so cautiously you made way towards it. 

“Who is it?” 

“It’s me, preciosa.” It’d been so long that you were surprised enough to immediately open the door just to make sure that voice belonged to who you thought it did. Seeing Miguel standing there had you torn between slamming the door in his face or inviting him in. “Can we talk?” 

He was lucky that you were calmer now that enough time had passed. Seeing him again seemed to rip open old wounds, and as much as you didn’t want to you couldn’t help but stare. He was the last person you expected to show up at your door, and part of you was happy to see him again. Another part of your though was torn and wary at his presence. He wanted to talk, and despite your warring emotions you wanted to hear what he had to say. 

“Yeah, we can talk.” You stepped aside and gave him room to enter your humble apartment. Closing and locking the door behind him you watched as Miguel made himself comfortable on your sofa and waited for you to settle in beside him. You sat yourself at the far end of the sofa, giving him an expectant look that whatever he needed to say now was the time to say it. 

“The divorce got messy,” He started, and you could feel your heart stammer in your chest. You expected him to say that Emily convinced him to stay with her, but his next words surprise you. “It took longer than I wanted once papers were served, but it’s done.” 

“It’s done?” You repeated the words, and he nodded. 

“She tried to use the photos from your social media as proof that I cheated first. The judge threw it out because there was no actual proof that it was me in the photos.” 

Despite the seriousness of the moment you let out a small laugh. No face, no case indeed.

“Ironically enough, her attacking you that night was enough for me to convince the judge to grant me full custody of Cristobal. She still gets supervised visits though.” He continued to explain. 

You merely nodded, accepting that. “She’s his mother, it’d be cruel to cut her out of his life entirely.” You replied, keeping your tone even. “Now that you’ve gotten everything that you wanted, what are you doing here?” 

Miguel shook his head, moving closer to you until he was close enough to pull you against him. “I don’t have everything I want. I don’t have you back with me yet.” It would have been so easy to simply give in right then and there, being in his arms again felt so right, and knowing that all this time he’d been wanting you helped to heal the heartache. But then your mind wandered to your current boyfriend, and you forced yourself to ease your way out of Miguel’s arms and once again put some distance between the two of you. You hated to see the confusion that crossed his features, but the man you were dating now was a good man and he didn’t deserve to have you stepping out on him now that Miguel was choosing to pop back into your life. 

“Look, I’m happy that you’re out of an unhappy marriage,” you started, steeling yourself for what you had to say next. “But when I didn’t hear from you for two months I stopped waiting around.” You told him, and before he could interrupt you continued. “I know you probably couldn’t have come around or reached out personally because of the divorce proceedings, but a man like you has so many resources and you didn’t use any of them. You can’t blame me for thinking you chose your marriage over what we hav—had.” You were quick to correct yourself, but Miguel heard the small slip up and it told him what he needed to know. 

“You’re right, mi amor. I assumed you would wait, and that was unfair to do without letting you know what was happening, but—”

“No buts, Miguel. I’m with someone now, I have a boyfriend that has no attachments to another woman and he treats me really well. He makes me happy,” but Miguel made you feel so much more than happy, and you knew it, but the thought of breaking another’s heart so selfishly had you refusing to acknowledge what you truly wanted. “I...I think you should go, thank you for letting me know the time we spent together was real but I can’t just jump back into bed with you now that you’re free. He’s a good man and he doesn’t deserve that.”

It wasn’t the answer Miguel wanted to hear, but you were determined to at least try and be a good person this time around. Miguel nodded, jaw set so hard you could see the muscle ticking when he stood to his feet and walked towards the door of your apartment. You hated to let him go, and you knew better than to look over your shoulder in his direction but you still did it anyway. “I’m not giving up on us, preciosa. Your new man might be good, but he’s not me.” 

His words lingered in your mind long after he was gone, and you wondered what he was planning. You found out a week later when you went to pay rent only to be told that it had been paid up for the remainder of your lease. You hadn’t exactly been excited to hear that, and your attempts to call or text Miguel had all led to you being unable to reach him. A week after that a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and a box in a certain recognizable blue shade was delivered to your door, you knew it was from Miguel. Your new man always got you roses instead of your favorites, and the two of you weren’t in the jewelry giving stage of your new relationship yet, and seeing that blue box had you suddenly feeling wary. A quick search on the website had you furiously dialing Miguel’s number, only for him to send you to voicemail. Your texts were left on read, and despite knowing that he was forcing your hand to go to him, you did anyway. You needed to return this damn necklace and let Miguel know that you weren’t about to be swayed by expensive gifts. 

The guards, and the household staff were all too happy to see you again, and despite your determination to put boundaries in place you couldn’t shake the bittersweet feeling of being back there. God you missed him, and this place, and all the people here but you were resolute in your decision to not give in to the temptation of running back to Miguel. 

“He’s been expecting you.” The familiar voice of Nestor informed you once you stepped into the living room. Eyeing the little blue Tiffany’s bag in your hand he merely shook his head and motioned towards the direction of Miguel’s office. You offered up a quiet thank you, heels clacking loudly against the expensive flooring of the Galindo mansion. You didn’t stop at the door, striding in with purpose and confidence that nearly collapsed at the sight of Miguel sitting behind his desk in a suit that only made him look more attractive than he already was. 

“Preciosa, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” His question caused you to narrow your eyes in his direction. He knew damn well why you were there, but clearly he was going to play games. You huffed, annoyed that you weren’t really all that annoyed as you sat the Tiffany’s bag on his desk with an expectant look on your face. Miguel followed the movement, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he reached out to slide it towards himself. “So you got my gift, good, but you didn’t have to come all this way just to thank me.”

Rolling your eyes you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head. “I’m not here to thank you Miguel, I’m here to return that ridiculously expensive necklace.”You shot back, doing your best to stand firm when Miguel stood from his chair and began to slowly circle his way around his desk. A desk that held several memories that you were trying not to think of at the present moment. “I’m not in the habit of taking back gifts, mi amor.” He replied, voice smooth as honey while he kept you in his sights. For a moment you felt like prey being closed in on by the wolf, and truly you might as well have been considering you’d done exactly as Miguel wanted you to by going to see him that day. 

“Miguel, that necklace is over one hundred thousand dollars. I can’t accept something like that from you.” You challenged, gasping when the sudden feeling of Miguel’s hands on your waist all but burned through the dress you wore. For a moment you simply stood there, nails biting into your palms as you curled them into fists to fight off the urge to reach out and touch Miguel. it was all you could do to steel yourself and resist the man that was testing your patience like no one else could. 

“You can and you will.” Slowly he turned you around, making you face his desk while he stood close enough for his body heat to seep into you, and the smell of his cologne to invade your senses. You hadn’t realized that your eyes had slipped closed until they flew open at the feeling of cold metal against your warm skin. Before you could protest Miguel quickly fastened the far too pricey necklace around your neck, leaving the diamond pendant to settle against the hollow of your throat. You didn’t expect the feeling of his lips pressing a lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw after that, and the soft gasp that flew from your lips was unmistakable. 

For a moment you just let yourself stay there relishing the feeling of his beard softly scraping against your soft skin as he left a slow trail of kisses along your shoulderblade, but soon enough warning bells began to ring loud and clear in your mind. This was dangerous, and you were falling right into the trap that you swore you were going to avoid. Quickly you stepped away from Miguel, needing space to breathe and distance so you could think clearly. “Dammit.” You cursed under your breath, tears of frustration brimming in your eyes while you tried to avoid looking at the man who you were desperately trying to resist. “Why? Why are you doing this?” You questioned, tone accusing as you motioned between the two of you. 

You knew why, but some twisted part of you needed to hear him say it. 

“Because I love you, preciosa, and I’m not giving up on us when I know you still feel the same about me.” His words cut like a knife right through all the bullshit reasons you’d been repeating to yourself since the day he’d shown up to tell you he was done with Emily, and still wanting you. Every rebuttal that you had died on your tongue, no denial of your own feelings would make its way past your lips. All you could do was rush from the room before he could get his hands on you again. 

You didn’t remember the necklace until later that day after you’d taken a long shower to try and wash away the guilt of being in love with another man while you had a devoted and caring boyfriend. The diamond pendant glared at you from the mirror, glinting brightly in the low lights and reminding you of the moment that Miguel had put it on you. You had half a mind to take it off, you should have taken it off, and yet when you moved to do so you couldn’t bring yourself to remove Miguel’s token of affection from around your throat. Perhaps you were a bad person, the invasive thought trickled in making you turn away from the mirror with a frustrated sigh. 

That night you didn’t sleep peacefully. You tossed and turned all night, memories of Miguel invading your dreams and leaving you on edge and irritable by the time morning came. An early morning text from your boyfriend was left on read, your shift at the boutique dragged on, and by the end of the day you only barely remembered that it was date night. You didn’t want to go, but you knew that your boyfriend had jumped through hoops and saved all so he could treat you to dinner at some expensive restaurant an hour outside of town. For some odd reason the thought of it filled you with dread, like there was something looming just on the horizon that you couldn’t see yet. It had a pit settling in your stomach as you rushed home to shower, primp, and get dressed for something that had you feeling damned. 

The car ride to the restaurant was spent with you engaging in the most minimal conversation while your fingers toyed idly with Miguel’s necklace. When asked what had you so down you simply lied, playing it off as just being tired from having to work that day. Your boyfriend bought the excuse easily enough, and by the end of the drive you were starting to feel guilty for your sour mood. You resolved yourself to be in a better mood for the rest of the evening, reminding yourself that just a month ago you were excited about the prospect of dinner at this place. So with a convincing, yet fake, smile you walked hand in hand into the building with your boyfriend. 

Your smile immediately deflated when you saw that the table you were to be sitting at was only a few tables away from one currently occupied by Miguel and another woman. Instantly you felt dizzy. Thankfully you were already in the process of sitting, otherwise you were sure that you would have fallen over from the shock of seeing the man again so soon, and with another woman in his face. Anger, and bitter jealousy swirled in the pit of your stomach as you glanced over at their table from the corner of your eye. There was no telling what they were discussing, and Miguel’s back was to you so you couldn’t see his expression. All you knew was that he was making this woman smile, and she was laughing a bit too much for your liking. 

With a deep breath in, and a slow exhale out you forced yourself to ignore it and try to enjoy your night. It was easier said than done but you managed to get through appetizers and a couple glasses of wine before everything seemingly came crashing down. It started with your boyfriend nervously gearing up to say something while you worriedly waited for him to spit whatever it was he wanted to say out. 

“I’ve been trying to think of the best way to say this but, um…well the best way to say it is to just say it.” He paused for a moment, and you nervously brought your glass of wine to your lips with the intention of sipping at it. “I love you.” 

You choked and sputtered into your wine glass, some of it spilling out and landing on your dress while you clumsily tried to place your glass back onto the table. It landed on the edge, and soon it shattered on the floor with a crash while you were jumping out of your seat. Your gaze moved to Miguel’s table, meeting his gaze as he watched you curiously before noticing the man on the other side of the table trying to help clean up the mess. His gaze grew hard and dangerous at the sight of your boyfriend, and the only thing you could think to do was leave. “I need to go, sorry.” Words rushed out of you as you turned on your heels and nearly ran to the restroom, choosing to take the individual family stall for a bit of much needed privacy. 

You didn’t see Miguel excusing himself from his own table and following after you at a distance, nor did you expect him to take advantage of you forgetting to lock the door behind you and slipping into the restroom stall. You were caught up in trying to steady your breathing and fight back the wave of nausea that had hit you that you didn’t even notice Miguel there at first. Too busy cursing yourself for being so stupid and selfish and letting things get this far, how had you missed the signs that things had gotten this serious? Were you truly that oblivious to the man you were dating falling in love with you? 

“God dammit.”  You hissed, a hand smacking down on the sink as you resisted the urge to yell in frustration. There was no way you could go back out there and return the sentiment without it being a lie, and now more than ever it was clear that you wouldn’t ever get there with your boyfriend. You were still very much in love with Miguel, and seeing him tonight with someone else only made that abundantly clear. 

“Mi amor…” His voice was both a balm, and salt in the wound. The sound of it had you whirling around to face him, and before you could stop yourself you had stalked over to him and laid a hard slap against his cheek. 

“Who is she?” You demanded, ignoring the hard flash of his eyes when he refocused on you. “Who is that woman out there? Does she know about me? Does she know that you were lying to me just yesterday about still loving me?” You pushed at his chest, anger, shame, and hurt all mixing into one confusing emotion as you lashed out. God you felt so stupid, and suddenly the necklace that hung daintily around your neck felt heavy as an anchor. Miguel caught your hands in an iron grip, quickly backing you up against the restroom's sink, and with his other hand he grabbed you by the chin. 

“Calm the fuck down.” His tone was darker than you’d ever heard it, and laced with something else that you could clearly identify as lust. It had you swallowing thickly, and suddenly remembering yourself. “That woman is a business associate that I’m trying to impress. Nothing more, nothing less.” The explanation was enough to make you feel embarrassed for the outburst, and unable to meet his gaze any longer. “Look at me.” The command was followed almost instantly, and you couldn’t help but squirm under the intensity of Miguel’s stare. “I meant everything I said.” He continued, leaning in close enough to tease you with the closeness of his mouth to yours. 

“I—”

“No. You don’t get to speak unless you’re begging me to remind you who all this,” He emphasizes the word by letting go of your hands to instead grab a handful of your ass. “belongs to.” Clearly you weren’t the only one feeling the jealousy of seeing the one you loved with someone else. Heat swirled in the pit of your belly, and the all too familiar ache that only Miguel could sate settled in. Heart hammering in your chest you let out a shuddering breath and nodded to which Miguel only jerked you forward the smallest bit. “Use your words, mi amor.” 

“Please.” It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to spur him into action. Your dress was pushed up over your hips and in a quick move Miguel had you spun around and facing the mirror. All you could do was brace your hands against the restroom's sink as the sound of a zipper coming down filled your ears. Eyes closed you swallowed a moan when you felt your panties being pulled to the side before his length was dragging against your damp folds. You ground back against him, only for him to catch you by the hips and force your movements to still. Slowly he teased you, spreading your slick arousal over his length until you were whimpering and begging him to fuck you. 

Finally he had mercy on you and began to press his way inside your tight entrance. You bit down on your bottom lip, quieting the moan that desperately wanted to make its way out of you. He sank into you slowly, taking his time in getting reacquainted with the feel of you wrapped around him and sucking him in deeper. You pushed back, already greedy for more of him after denying yourself for so long. Breath rushed from you at the first snap of his hips, and you barely had time to try and catch it before another hard thrust of his cock jolts your hips forward only for you to sink back onto him with a shaky moan that’s almost too loud for your current setting. 

“Not so loud, preciosa. We wouldn’t want everyone to hear you getting fucked like a slut.” Miguel’s taunting had you clenching around him, and when you felt his hand snaking up your side and wrapping around your throat to squeeze you couldn’t help but moan again. Eyes locked on the reflection of the two of you, you felt as if you couldn’t look away from Miguel as he finally claimed what he had been missing for all those months. He wasn’t gentle as he rutted into you, making you take every thick inch while his hand squeezed around your throat just enough to keep your air restricted. 

“Fuck, that’s it…that’s my good girl.” He ground out between his teeth, hips snapping forward hard enough that you were sure anyone on the other side of the door could hear if they were close enough. Not that you expected anyone to interrupt or try to get past whoever was likely guarding the door. Knowing that someone outside possibly knew what was happening inside the restroom only excited you further, and any thought of your boyfriend being the one to hear the two of you was far from your mind. The only man that existed in the moment was the one currently pounding into you from behind. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” He said, and you could only nod with a desperate moan when you felt him thrusting into you harder. 

His unrelenting pace had you nearing the edge quicker than you realized, and when you felt his other hand sliding between your thighs so that his fingers could circle against your bundle of nerves you were teetering on the edge. Eyes falling shut you tried to chase your high, but Miguel had other plans.  “Open your fucking eyes, watch yourself cum on this cock.” The growled words had your eyes snapping open to view the lewd scene before he had you cumming with a strained cry. Walls pulsing and clenching down around his cock, Miguel was no match for the way your body milked him for his spend. Spilling every drop as deeply as he could inside of you with a strained curse on his lips. The hand at your throat loosened and you sucked in air, panting and legs shaky when you tried to stand yourself up properly. Miguel steaded you before he silently fixed your clothes back in place and turned you back around to face him. 

“You’re going to go out there with me dripping out of you and break up with him.” 

Suddenly you remembered who you were there at the restaurant with and guilt began to settle in and sour the post-coital bliss.

“No more excuses, now it’s your turn to show me you’re serious. I’m done sharing my woman with some undeserving bastard.” Reaching up to take you by the chin he directed your gaze to his. “Either you end it with him, or I’ll do it myself.” The ultimatum was followed by a searing kiss that left you stunned for a moment. “Your choice, mi amor, but one way or another you’re coming home tonight.” 

Miguel left you then, exiting the restroom and leaving you to grapple with what you’d just done, and what he expected from you now. Taking in a deep breath you knew you had only one option, so you made the awkward trip back to your table. Sitting back down you couldn’t help but feel a mixture of arousal and guilt as Miguel’s spend continued to drip from your core while you sat there preparing to break up with your boyfriend. 

“I don’t love you, and I don’t think I ever will and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize that but it’s over.” You rushed your way through the words but you could tell that your now ex boyfriend had understood each and every one. He sat in silence for a moment, jaw working as he did his best to keep his emotions in check. You simply sat in silence, watching him as he stood up abruptly, threw a few bills on the table to cover the dinner, and with a glace over his shoulder glared at Miguel who was now alone and watching it all play out. Part of you suspected he might have said or done something in the time it took you to get yourself together before returning but you didn’t care to ask. 

Soon enough you were left at the table by yourself, and moments later joined by Miguel who stood by your chair with his hand outstretched. Silently you slipped your hand into his and let him guide you up from your chair and towards the entrance.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader

When the chaos erupted, Daemon did not let the opportunity slip from his grasp and abducted you, the daughter of the Sea Snake.

A/N: Thank you for 100 followers!

fanfiction | House of the Dragon

One may know the Rogue Prince to be a persistent man. He is a Targaryen Prince, a Dragon, what he desires will be his regardless of the cost. When he sought your hand, your father, Lord Corlys, opposed it and forbade him to wed you. The refusal left him embittered and wrathful, incensed by his audacity. Before his departure, he spoke one sentence that would unsettle Rhaenys and Corlys; a vow to seize you from their grasp should they prove unwilling. Your mother clutched you tighter, and your father silently dreaded the vow.

During the royal wedding of Laenor and Rhaenyra, Rhaenys and Corlys remained vigilant throughout the entire ceremony, unable to shake off the sense of foreboding, especially when Daemon appeared at the ceremony uninvited, smiling proudly like a child. Your mother's grip on your hand tightened resolutely as she observed the prince smirking at her and her husband before taking his seat.

Corlys shifted in his seat as he leaned towards you, whispering firmly and sternly, "You must not engage with him even if he asks you to dance, do not accept anything from him. Maintain your distance." Your eyes met his, nodding in understanding. You had no desire to provoke your father or disappoint your mother, so you complied with their wishes.

Throughout the dinner, Daemon never ceased gazing at you. His eyes held mischief and potential peril. You swallowed nervously as you speared the meat on your plate. Your parents glanced at you cautiously, and you could even see Corlys glaring at the prince from a distance with admonishing eyes, yet the prince merely smiled and winked at you when you glanced at him.

Choosing to disregard his flirtatious advances, you turned towards Rhaenyra and your brother. They did not appear truly happy, more solemn, with silent discontent evident. The atmosphere was tense, lacking in joy.

As the dancing commenced, you remained seated. Then you turned to your father, "May I?" You inquired, and Corlys promptly responded, "You mustn't. The Prince is always waiting for you to slip up." Naturally, he was concerned; he could not bear to lose his daughter. It was Laena who interjected with a smile. "Father, do not worry, she will be with me. I will keep a watchful eye on her." Despite this reassurance, Corlys remained wary and reluctantly allowed you to go with your sister.

Descending the stairs and joining the others in the dance, they glided across the floor like graceful swans. You recognized a few of them: Harwin Strong, Jason Lannister, and a few others. It was then that you felt an arm encircle your waist, none other than Daemon Targaryen. You swallowed nervously.

He smirked at you. Despite having aged, he remained strikingly handsome, prompting both men and women to kneel before him. "You are as beautiful as ever," he complimented as he twirled you. A faint smile graced your lips, though your eyes revealed caution. "Thank you, Prince Daemon." The way his name rolled off your tongue made his smirk widen. You prayed for your parents to come and whisk you away.

However, Daemon had other intentions as his hand ventured lower. "Your parents are fools for denying us the chance to wed. I could adorn you in ways no lord ever could. I could indulge in you endlessly without boredom," he whispered seductively. His silver-tongue was renowned. You could sense your parents' watchful gaze.

"You are gracious, my prince. Unfortunately, I must return to my parents," you informed him, fabricating an excuse swiftly as you attempted to flee but were hindered by the chaos erupting around you. Screams pierced the air as panic ensued, and amidst the commotion, you heard bones shatter and recognized the cries of a familiar man, Ser Joffrey. Searching for your brother amidst the chaos, you heard his shouts and a loud crash. The cacophony of voices melded into one, and Daemon seized the opportunity by hoisting you over his shoulder and navigating through the tumultuous crowd.

Amidst the throng of people pushing and jostling in their attempt to flee the scene, it was challenging to spot you. Daemon capitalized on the confusion and departed from the Red Keep with you. Despite your struggles and resistance, he carried you atop his dragon. And on dragonback, he spirited you away to Essos swiftly when there were no witnesses.

While your parents scanned the crowd anxiously in search of you, Rhaenys fretted and feared that harm had befallen you. Corlys turned towards Viserys, his voice thunderous with anger. "My daughter—find my daughter!" he bellowed as Viserys finally grasped that his brother had likely abducted you amidst the chaos. The color drained from Corlys and Rhaenys's faces, consumed by dread.

me when I see “black” in an author’s bio knowing i’m finna read and reblog their whole account 💀😭

Literally

The way Atreides!Reader or Targaryen!Reader basically implies white most of the time lol.