Indruck, just like it says on the tin. Neither god nor Griffin McElroy can stop me. Enjoy my writing? Have a buck to spare? https://ko-fi.com/thiswasinevitable
Hello! I'm ThisWasInevitable, AKA Sam. My A03 handle is ThisWasInevitable and I'm currently sitting pretty at 123 fics over there. Asks are open and welcome
Currently writing fic about:
Doc Ock and/or Green Goblin /Reader
Assorted other Molina and/or Dafoe characters
The Terror
Previously writing fic about:
Taz Amnesty (mainly Indruck, sternclay, danbrey)
If you're searching for fills written on Tumblr:
I tag fills/fic with the pairing name and the slash way of listing it (so, both Indrid/Duck and Indruck), as well as the piece of media it's from. things like monster march, mermay, yeehawgust, and promptober are good places to start if you're looking for shorter fills/fics.
IT’S DONE! oh man. in watching the owl house (amazing show btw) I thought about having Horvath here in the show’s style. He’d fit right into this world!! I had so much fun drawing this hooo boy. desiging his palisman was also ridiculously fun.
How would he end up in the demon relam? In Eda’s human junk of course, maybe on accident, the urn breaks or gets toppled over by Luz, in which Horvath finally escapes from, after being trapped for decades.
Well, i think Molina hands are the most sexy phisical thing about him after the gorgeous T area(eyes/eyebrows and nose), then btw third comes his size and then his voice. So my horny question is.. Is there a Molina character thinking about sharing reader with another Molina character? They all seem needy and possessive. But maybe someone would double team into giving a double handjob/titplay with reader?
Dude, not to spoil the Boroughs but that scene where he's in bed with his wife in the first episode and they're holding hands???????????
My toes curled.
BECAUSE OF EXPLICIT CONTENT PLEASE CHECK UNDER THE READMORE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, WARNING FOR DUBCON/MANIPULATION
HMMMMM WHO WOULD BE WILLING TO SHARE; OH! OH! OH!
I HAVE A 'COMTE AND THE BISHOP ARINGAROSA ARE BROTHERS AND DECIDE TO SHARE A READER (NO INCEST)' FIC IN THE WINGS THAT I FORGOT ABOUT U TIL YOU JUST MENTIONED THAT!!!!!
Ok, so while I don't think the Comte would bring just anyone into the bedroom with him, I could totally see him being manipulated by a corrupt man of the clothe like the Bishop Aringarosa...I could definitely see the Bishop demanding to perform a 'purity' check on the Comte's love interest (maybe fiancee?) that gets out of hand and he ends up fingering her and the sound of the reader's wet cunt leads to Comte losing control and tongue kissing her for the first time as Manuel coaxes her thru her first orgasm...
Hmmmmm who else, who else...
There's a Leland Drury and Angelo, I still need to finish, too!
I wanna write a fic where these two are in on some scam and trick a poor innocent nun into going on the run with them (I'm thinking she doesn't know they're on the run, she thinks she's just travelling with a priest and reformed gambler who's found god, so her guard is completely down), and they definitely get her drunk and take advantage, not taking her virginity, but doing everything but as they strip her down to her small clothes one night by the fire and Leland coos some bullshit about her being the temptation in the desert as they direct her on how to stroke their cocks as they pinch and grope and play with her all over...
Hm who else...
From my Anastasia fic, Vlad and Dmitri would totally share Anya!Reader 💯 percent...
I could definitely see them sharing Anya, neither willing to risk their reward by taking her virginity, so they have to satisfy her in other ways ...I'm seeing Vlad fucking her thighs with her on her back as Dmitri feeds her his cock...
Jim Bussey/Sam cooper/ Reader: Jim is brought in to be the funeral director in The Burroughs and reader is his wife/co funeral director. Sam cannot work out how this old morbid weirdo married a younger woman. Jim can tell reader has a crush on Sam.
One other thought: Galan strikes me as the kind to be down to share as long as reader understands they're his (such as Demon! Galan being willing to share his angel with the right person)
I had never considered Demon!Galan but I LOVE THE IDEA!!!
Hear me outttttt okay, for Galan I'm thinking of a more straight forward 'you invoke me, I grant your wildest desires, you agree to be my slave for all eternity, blah blah blah' but the reader who ends up invoking him is like a legitimately good person who keeps making wishes for other people and he's supposed to corrupt her soul within a year and take her back to Hell for all eternity, but he keeps putting it off because he likes her, so he keeps moving the goal posts back-
And meanwhile, maybe one of his rival demon's like, "well, if you're not using her soul to it's full potential, all the better for me to corrupt it," so he masquerades as a human and starts dating her and they end up falling into bed, and Andrés has to watch and SEETHE as a lesser demon does all the wonderfully wicked and sacred things he's always wanted to do with you...
I'm thinking the sleazy demon would of course be Denis, but I'm open to suggestion...
Also, the reader would die in some self-sacrificing way and end up a literal angel.
I have no idea who Denis is but that gif is very promising
CW for mentions of self harm in the linked fill
I wrote demon! Galan awhile back because he lends himself to it so well. I do LOVE the idea of another demon deciding to take advantage of Galan not taking full advantage of a contract made with a human...
Well, i think Molina hands are the most sexy phisical thing about him after the gorgeous T area(eyes/eyebrows and nose), then btw third comes his size and then his voice. So my horny question is.. Is there a Molina character thinking about sharing reader with another Molina character? They all seem needy and possessive. But maybe someone would double team into giving a double handjob/titplay with reader?
Dude, not to spoil the Boroughs but that scene where he's in bed with his wife in the first episode and they're holding hands???????????
My toes curled.
BECAUSE OF EXPLICIT CONTENT PLEASE CHECK UNDER THE READMORE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, WARNING FOR DUBCON/MANIPULATION
HMMMMM WHO WOULD BE WILLING TO SHARE; OH! OH! OH!
I HAVE A 'COMTE AND THE BISHOP ARINGAROSA ARE BROTHERS AND DECIDE TO SHARE A READER (NO INCEST)' FIC IN THE WINGS THAT I FORGOT ABOUT U TIL YOU JUST MENTIONED THAT!!!!!
Ok, so while I don't think the Comte would bring just anyone into the bedroom with him, I could totally see him being manipulated by a corrupt man of the clothe like the Bishop Aringarosa...I could definitely see the Bishop demanding to perform a 'purity' check on the Comte's love interest (maybe fiancee?) that gets out of hand and he ends up fingering her and the sound of the reader's wet cunt leads to Comte losing control and tongue kissing her for the first time as Manuel coaxes her thru her first orgasm...
Hmmmmm who else, who else...
There's a Leland Drury and Angelo, I still need to finish, too!
I wanna write a fic where these two are in on some scam and trick a poor innocent nun into going on the run with them (I'm thinking she doesn't know they're on the run, she thinks she's just travelling with a priest and reformed gambler who's found god, so her guard is completely down), and they definitely get her drunk and take advantage, not taking her virginity, but doing everything but as they strip her down to her small clothes one night by the fire and Leland coos some bullshit about her being the temptation in the desert as they direct her on how to stroke their cocks as they pinch and grope and play with her all over...
Hm who else...
From my Anastasia fic, Vlad and Dmitri would totally share Anya!Reader 💯 percent...
I could definitely see them sharing Anya, neither willing to risk their reward by taking her virginity, so they have to satisfy her in other ways ...I'm seeing Vlad fucking her thighs with her on her back as Dmitri feeds her his cock...
Jim Bussey/Sam cooper/ Reader: Jim is brought in to be the funeral director in The Burroughs and reader is his wife/co funeral director. Sam cannot work out how this old morbid weirdo married a younger woman. Jim can tell reader has a crush on Sam.
One other thought: Galan strikes me as the kind to be down to share as long as reader understands they're his (such as Demon! Galan being willing to share his angel with the right person)
Stephen Arden was another top contender of who people wanted me to write a fic for, so here it is! This fill is NSFW
(I think I ended up playing fast and loose with the alien's abilities in this but so it goes).
You’re a professor. You hear wild ideas every day from overconfident students.
You’ve never heard anything this baffling in your life.
“They…”
“-Combined human and alien DNA, yes.” Special Agent Joseph Stern rubs his temples, “and now it’s a shit-show.”
A worrying comment coming from him; Stern famously handled the chaos of the Silver Bridge collapse, the Tahoe incident, and whatever the hell was going on with Bray Road with only a few grey hairs to show for it.
“How do I factor in?”
“No one on that team has any expertise in astrobiology or in exochemistry. They have people who understand this world, I need them to have someone who understands other worlds, even the smallest amount. If this creature is loose there could be any number of biological hazards, as well as any number of biological means of stopping her.”
“Hoping for a War of the Worlds scenario?”
“I’m hoping the black ops agent they sent has some fucking sense. Everything beyond that is bonus.” He looks up at you, “I’m sending you because even though you’re not an agent, I trust your judgment, and I’ve seen you keep cool under pressure.”
You smile; you thought you handled yourself decently well in Puerto Rico but it’s nice to have the confirmation. Which brings you to your next question.
“How much leather?”
(When you first helped him, the other members of the team didn’t take you seriously until you turned up in a leather jacket with a hard-ass attitude to match).
He casts you a sympathetic smile, “As much as you can get away with.”
Two days into your assignment, you’ve developed the following impressions of the rest of the team: Fitch is in over his head, Laura is doing her best, Dan is a sweetheart but why on earth did the recovery team need an “empath”, Preston needs to be slapped upside the head and not in a fun way.
And then there’s…
“Morning, sunshine.” Dr. Stephen Arden appears at your side, holding two paper coffee cups, one of which he hands to you, “you’re with Dan and me.”
You take the cup with a tight lipped smile, “Good. If I have to deal with Preston for that long a drive we’ll end up with two murderous women on our hands.”
“There we go, that’s the spirit. It’ll give the three of us time to bond.”
This is what’s throwing you about Arden; he’s either deliberately ignoring your bristles or he likes them. You have a bad feeling you know which.
You’re introducing yourself to the rest of the team as you all wait for Fitch to prepare the visuals for his presentation.
Arden shakes your hand, then sticks his hands into his pockets, giving you a once-over as he says, with faux casualness, “You’re a professor you said? Where do you teach? I’m a Harvard man myself-”
“UCLA. I run the top astrobiology program in the country. But I’m sure the ivy league anthropology world is glad to have you.” You match his tone with fake politeness. The last time you worked closely with an ivy league professor he questioned every last one of your credentials until he got himself eaten by a chupacabra.
Arden looks as if you’ve slapped him, but only for a moment. Then his expression shifts to that of a dog seeing a bone just out of reach, “well, you’re just a ray of sunshine aren’t you?”
Look. Arden, with his fluffy dark hair, expressive brows, and crooked nose, is catnip to you. You want to make him kneel, pull his hair, suck bruises into his skin while he giddily fucks you.
But you can tell Arden is naturally flirtatious, the kind of man who evaluates every woman he meets through the lens of whether they’re fuckable. You watched Preston do it too, leering rather than playful, and conclude that you’re not his type.
You don’t need any of it right now. Not when you have a reputation to uphold.
You’re following the tip that Sil might have taken a train toward L.A. You and Stephen spent much of yesterday debating whether her human DNA would lead her to be a social creature or if she’d seek out solitude. You wouldn’t blame her, given her current experience with humans includes them trying to gas her.
Arden drives, insisting you take shotgun because Dan always falls asleep in the car. You assume he’s exaggerating, but after an hour of amiably chatting, the empath is sound asleep.
“Music? I’ve got lots.” Arden gestures to a box on the floor by your feet.
You select The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust. It doesn’t take long for Arden to start singing along. It’s charming and he knows it.
“C’mon, sunshine, join in.”
“Don’t push your luck; I’m not singing ‘Sweet Head’ with a co-worker.” You add a glare, “put those puppy dog eyes away.”
“They’re working,” Dan murmurs from the backseat.
You set your head in your hands with a joking sigh of despair, “I should’ve just gone with Preston and Laura.”
“You would’ve been a third wheel to them eye-fucking each other.” Arden changes lanes toward the exit.
“Something you haven’t been trying to do this whole drive?” You give him a pointed look.
“That’s eye-lovemaking, I’ll have you know.”
You laugh, Dan doing the same from behind you as he says, “I changed my mind, please grab the steering wheel and crash us before he tries anymore wordplay.”
Thirty minutes later, you’re staring at the remnants of a fucking cocoon, trying to get a sample for testing while the others strategize as to whether Sil got off the train in L.A. Fitch fussed at you to be careful, that this was foreign material, potentially dangerous, until you snapped and told him you’d handle material samples far more volatile and classified than this.
You join them just in time to hear Arden saying “it’s perfect for her, totally mobile population.”
You snort, “Ah yes, major metropolitan areas. Notoriously without a stable population of people making them run.”
“You know what I mean. It’s a big city with lots of people coming and going.”
“Then say that.” You brush past him, “investigation lives and dies in the details.”
He scoffs, “Well excuse me, sunshine.”
You ignore him and start talking about make-shift lab options with Fitch and Laura. Yes, you’re being pedantic, but you didn’t get where you are by being fucking careless.
Arden keeps his distance until lunch. The group discusses whether Sil might be looking for a mate, and then you and Arden start speculating on what non-human genetics mean in terms of estrus, until Preston tells you to shut the hell up because some people are trying to eat.
You can’t prove it, but you suspect Preston is the one responsible for you all being short a room when you check in to the hotel, as he’s a little too quick to suggest you and Arden be the pair to double up.
“That way you can practice your bickering married couple act in private.”
Some battles aren’t worth picking, so you take the offered key.
As you’re unpacking, Arden keeps glancing over from where he’s pulling items from a duffle bag, “Don’t look so worried, sunshine. I know how to be a gentleman, I swear.”
“Firstly, my face just looks like this. Secondly; good. Because if you didn’t, I’m not beyond tying your hands when you go to bed.”
“Really?” He takes a few steps towards you, “you promise?”
You bring yourself toe to toe with him with a sly smile. Then you set a hand on his belt, quickly unbuckling it and yanking it off. Arden grins, moves his hands toward your waist and, in the process, puts them where you need them.
Wrapping the leather around his wrists, you tighten the belt and step out of reach. You carefully watch his face for distress and get only mild confusion.
He looks between your face and his bound hands before playfully saying, “I thought we were finally getting along.”
“We are. If we weren’t, I’d just leave you like this until we have to go to the lab.” You hold out your hand and he sets his wrists in it without hesitation. You undo the belt, pass it back to him, “I need to rinse off; the scent from that cocoon is sticking to me and I hate it.”
“Right” he shoots you a shyer, sweeter smile this time and you realize that the charming bastard can, in fact, make you blush.
An extremely stressful twenty-four hours later, you, Arden, and the rest of the team stand by a pool. The body of Sil’s newest victim has yet to be gurneyed out, and you watch Laura and Arden trade increasingly anxious comments about whether she successfully mated.
“Check the pool filters.” Arden barks toward some of Fitch’s men.
You raise your brows “For what?”
“Ejaculate.”
“Oh for-” you gesture to the body, “it’d be more reliable to do a urethral swab to determine if there are any sperm present, indicating recent ejaculation.”
“....Right, that’s a much better idea, do that instead.” Arden steps back from the pool, glancing your way, “good thinking.”
You flash him a smile as Fitch approaches you with the new plan; stake out the club Sil seems to be using as her hunting grounds in the hopes that she’ll repeat her pattern that night.
Which is why you’re now squeezed in a bar chair as bass thumps all around you. The six of you have spread out, searching for her.
“This is ridiculous.” Arden mutters as he passes you.
“Agreed. We all look like fucking narcs.” You tilt your head at Preston and Laura at the bar, standing out stiffly in spite of their flirtation, “even if Sil doesn’t know most of us on sight, right now anyone, alien or not, can tell we’re looking for someone.”
He nods, then taps your shoulder, “I’ve got an idea. Take off the jacket and follow me.”
You lay the leather coat on the back of your chair, only for Arden to toss his own jacket on top of it and pull you into the chaos of the dance floor.
“We’ll blend in this way.” He gracefully spins you so your back is to his front, mimicking many of the dancers around you.
“I’m only going along with this because you’re right. And she might be looking for men already paired with women; letting someone else vet suitable mates for her.” You grin at him as he sways you to the beat.
“I’m suitable for mating?”
“Don’t push it.” You scan the floor, Arden doing the same, with no sign of Sil among the gorgeous blondes prowling for partners.
“These are a surprise” he runs his hands up your arms and over the tattoos on your biceps, “you’ve got a wild side, sunshine. Check behind me.” He spins you chest to chest.
“Nothing so far.” You slip your hands into his back pockets, roll your body to the music.
“You’ve done this before.” He runs his hands up your sides, emboldened by your touch. He’s a good dancer, easily following the beat and syncing with your movements.
“Girl has to blow off steam somehow.” You wish you were in one of those clubs now, that Arden was just another guy who’d made it clear he liked women in leather boots and black lipstick who looked like they could kick his ass. The problem is he’s not, the more you talk the more he feels like he’s your match in all the right ways, even when you snipe at each other.
“How else do you like to blow off steam?” He’s looking down at you now, arms around your waist so you can’t bolt from the conversation. It’s flirtatious, curious too; like he’s trying to get to know you. You want to lower the curtain, give him just a little peek.
“I’ve got a whole box of tricks.” You purr.
He bends down, barely audible over the music, “Maybe when this all over you can-”
A commotion from outside, Laura and Preston sprinting for the door with Fitch on their heels.
“Guess someone spotted her.” Arden keeps hold of your hand, tossing you your coat as you follow the others into the night, leaving whatever was blooming between you to die on the dance floor.
You’re back in a club far sooner than you anticipated. The hotel bar this time, not quite as rowdy but still packed with bodies pursuing a wild Saturday night.
Technically, you’re celebrating; Sil crashed a stolen car straight into a transformer, electrocuting herself. At least that’s what the body you all found suggests. Fitch seems satisfied with that conclusion.
Arden is enjoying the excuse to buy drinks on “Uncle Sam’s dime,” ordering long island ice teas for himself and Dan. You tease him for drinking like a valley girl on vacation, to which he insists you shouldn’t knock it until you try it.
Two drinks in, you have to say that he has a point.
“Well, sunshine, am I allowed to order again?” His arm drapes over the booth behind you.
You fiddle with the straw, smiling at him, “Provisionally.”
“Hey, you’re moving up in the world.” Dan teases, making you both laugh.
You excuse yourself to the bathroom, Arden’s eyes tracking you all the way to the door. As you’re checking your lipstick in the mirror, the woman next to you asks if she can borrow it.
“Mine melted” she says as you pass over the tube and check the corners of your mouth for any plum pigment that went astray.
When you step back into the club, you’re just in time to see Laura and Preston disappearing together. You’ve worked on plenty of professional teams. Many of the men on them saw that as the natural outcome for a woman co-worker; a girlfriend, a wife, someone just in the field until she can find a man to take her out of it.
A hand on your arm makes you jump, on account of the whole “killer alien” thing being top of mind.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Arden’s hand moves slowly down your arm as he talks, “Things are wrapping up down here so I thought maybe it was time we headed back to our room. Got into bed.” His voice dips seductively lower as his hand finds yours.
The natural outcome.
You pull your hand from his and step away, “I, I need to get some air. Take a walk.”
His face falls, “So you don’t-”
You want to say “not yet” or “we’ll see” but a frustrated, entitled look lingers in his eyes a little too long.
“No. I don’t.”
He might say something else, but you move to the door too fast to catch it.
The swirl of smell outside–hot pavement, night air, a dozen different perfumes from passersby– grounds you. You take deliberate, measured breaths as you circle the block. You love cities at night, the play of lights off the buildings and snatches of conversation you catch as people bustle past you.
It takes three laps before you’re ready to go inside. You got up in your own head, got ahead of yourself, and at the very least you want to explain things so Arden knows there’s no bad blood between you, not really. Just some baggage.
Opening the hotel room door, you’re met with the tell-tale sound of post-coital panting.
“Seriously, Ar...den-” You freeze in the doorway.
Arden is on his back on the bed. You’re straddling him.
“Fuck.” Is all you get out before Sil swipes down at Arden. He’s midway through rolling out from under her when she does, screaming when she makes contact with his back and sides.
You hurl the desk lamp at her, catching her in the head. She charges you, slamming you into the wall and digging claws into your leg. You scream as tendons tear, jab your fingers forward and connect with her eyes. She drops you, hissing, then smashes through the back window as footsteps thunder down the hall.
Dragging yourself across the floor, you reach for Arden. He’s breathing, manages to look at you when you weakly call his name.
“I thought…I thought she was you.” He whimpers.
You manage a dry laugh through the pain flooding your body, “Yeah, Stephen, I gathered.”
When you went under for surgery on your damaged leg, you weren’t sure if you’d wake up in a hospital or in government quarantine.
The speckled ceiling suggests the former. The fact Agent Stern is sitting near your hospital bed suggests the latter.
“Are we in Area 51?” You’re mostly joking.
He shakes his head, “No. You’re in L.A General. We did initially keep Dr. Arden in more intense containment since there was fluid exchange.” He indicates the other bed in the room, where Stephen is asleep.
“That answers my question of whether he fucked the alien.” You rub your forehead, “jesus, I feel like I got hit by a truck.”
“The good news is you don’t have a concussion. You escaped your ‘car accident’ with just a leg injury.”
“If anyone asks, he was driving.” You shrug a shoulder toward Stephen.
“Lies. You Americans drive like maniacs, everyone knows that.” His voice is faint, but there’s a tiny smile on his face that makes you feel like everything will be okay.
Stern updates you on what happened after Sil’s attack, including the fact that she’s confirmed dead.
“Guess you won’t be able to claim you’re the father of a new hybrid species.” You turn your head on the pillow, looking at Stephen.
“Course not. I’m far too young to be a father.” He frowns at the ceiling, “although if she had offspring with me, they’d be more genetically human than not…”
“I wonder what traits would dominate. Like, would having majority human DNA turn off the genes that allow for shapeshifting?”
“Or limit it, maybe, so the offspring could only change facets of their appearance…”
From your left, Stern chuckles, “I’ll leave you two alone.”
“You know, it’d be safer if I kept my eyes open when you change.”
You look over your shoulder as you finish pulling on your shirt, “Oh?”
He smiles, “That way if an alien impersonates you again, I’ll be able to tell if she matches the genuine article.”
“If she’s trying to fuck you, she’s not me.” Pain sharpens the comment beyond what you intended. Your leg is doing better, your mobility is returning, but it still hurts like a motherfucker.
Stephen is quiet for a moment, then murmurs, “Why do you hate me? I’ve spent the entire time we’ve known each other trying to get on your good side.”
You decide to blame the sniffling in his voice on the painkillers.
“I don’t hate you. But I should point out, you try to get on everyone’s good side, especially if they’ve got nice tits.” You sigh, “Stephen, how many women are on this team, including all the agents Preston called in and the techs Fitch used?”
He counts, thoughtfully, “Laura, you, at least one lab tech…”
You hold four fingers where he can see them, “That’s it. And do you know how many women are doctors in exobiology? Six in the whole country, including me. Every room I’m in, there are people thinking that I’m there to match up with one of them, not do my work, because that’s what the nearest available woman is clearly for.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-”
“I know. Look, Stephen, I do actually like you.” You smile, “Sil could have done a lot worse for mates.”
He’s quiet for a long time, hands resting on his stomach. Finally, he says, “She didn’t smell right.”
“What?”
“Your shampoo is distinct. It wasn’t there when she came on to me, but it happened so fast and I wanted so badly for it to be real that I ignored the fact something was missing. She even had your lipstick.”
“She must have been who borrowed it in the bathroom.” You wonder, not for the first time, how much Sil got right about your body. If Stephen enjoyed what he saw.
“I like that lipstick.” He muses, then winks at you, “you’ve got a lot of style for a geek, sunshine.”
“And you’ve got a lot of charm for a nerd, professor.”
He blows you a cheeky kiss, grinning ear to ear when you laugh.
—------------------
“Promise you’ll keep in touch?” Given his injuries are more severe, Stephen is being kept under observation another few days, but you’re officially discharged.
“I’ll do my best.” You offer him your hand, “Don’t get up to too much trouble now that you’ve got the room to yourself.”
He takes your hand, hesitates, then pulls you into a hug, “Thanks for saving my life.”
“You’re welcome.” You step back, not quite ready to take your eyes off him, “if you’re ever in L.A again, look me up.”
Stephen gives your hand a final squeeze, “you’ll be my first stop.”
—---------------------------
Spring semester gives way to summer; you only teach two classes, use the extra time for your own research.
You hold office hours early on Fridays. Today you’re busy revising your exam questions when brisk footsteps cross the threshold.
You don’t look up as you say, “Let me just save this and I’ll be riiiight with you.”
“No need to hurry on my account.” Stephen flashes a brilliant smile when you look up, “I’m just here to introduce myself to my fellow professors.”
To keep from jumping up excitedly, you cock an eyebrow, “You’re on the wrong end of campus for that.”
“I know. I went to the Anthropology department yesterday. Forgive me for not making you my first stop?”
“Yes–wait, you're actually here to teach?”
“A one-year visiting professorship. Arranged by the men in black, if I had to guess. Think they’re worried Sil might not be as dead as we thought.”
“Peachy.”
A soft chuckle, “I missed you, sunshine.” He runs a finger along your “out” tray, “on the flight over, I kept asking myself ‘how do I get off on the right foot this time’. Then I thought, ‘no point in overcomplicating things, just ask her to dinner.’”
“And are you?” You move around the desk to stand next to him.
“Yes.” He nods, still toying with odds and ends on your desk, expression sincere as he adds, “Dinner with a woman I can’t get out of my head. That’s all I want. No strings attached, no expectations.”
“None?” You adjust his lapels to keep your fingers from getting other ideas.
“None.” His eyes glint hopefully as you pick up a pen.
You scribble your address on a post-it, “Pick me up here at seven. If you behave at dinner, I might invite you in for coffee after.”
The front door whams into the wall much louder than you intended. In your defense, Stephen is at your back, whispering endearingly filthy promises as the pair of you fumble your way into the apartment. Your keys land near their usual hook, your heels come off in a hurry, and Stephen shucks his jacket the instant the door is shut.
The red roses he brought you when picking you up rustle precariously as you back him into the table. He kissed you sweetly outside the restaurant, asking if you’d like to find somewhere to dance. Kissing you now, he’s equal parts doting and demanding, pressing his lips to yours like it’s where he belongs, and like he’s so fucking happy to have found it.
“I tried going out a few times since I last saw you.” Stephen murmurs between kisses, “kept looking for you on the dance floor, couldn’t even make a pass at someone unless she had on a leather jacket.”
“Baby, plenty of women dress like I do.” You coax him down the hall after you with kisses.
“Never got through more than one dance without losing interest.” He catches up to you, embraces you and sways you into your bedroom, “not like tonight, fuck” he groans as you nip his collarbone, “you’re lucky we didn’t end up fucking in the middle of the floor.”
“Mmmmm, you do move your body well, Mr. Arden.” You unbutton his shirt, “gonna show me how else you can use it?”
“Yes, mmhyes” He keeps trying to answer even as he cups your chin and kisses you.
“Get naked and get on the bed.” You wiggle out of your dress and panties, toss your bra on top of it. The sight of you topless moves his disrobing from energetic to frantic. You toy with him a little, kiss his face and stroke his chest as he fights to get his pants and underwear off.
He topples onto the bed and you pounce on him, straddling his thighs and kissing him hungrily, his fingers carding your hair, before sitting back to take in the view.
The view suddenly looks very anxious.
“M-maybe not cowgirl just yet?” His brown eyes flick back and forth as if he’s in danger.
“Fuck, you’re right, I’m so sorry.” You clamber off him and he sits up, noticeably relaxing as he moves in to kiss your neck and chest.
“You recover quick, huh?” You run your hands up his thighs
“You make it easy.” He brushes his nose against yours, “are you gonna show me something from that ‘box of tricks.’”
“Wait right here.” You kiss him and hop off the bed, grabbing a small, black box from the closet. When you turn, Stephen is laying with his back against the wall, hands behind his head.
“Just enjoying the view.”
“Yeah?” You saunter back toward him, “hoping for a peek at my box?”
“Oh it’ll be more than a peek.” He sits up, peering excitedly in as you lift the lid. You’re curious which item he’ll gravitate to, and he licks his lips excitedly as takes in the collection of toys and bondage gear.
Stephen gingerly lifts the black leather collar you bought the one time you made the trek to San Francisco for the Folsom Street Fair. It’s lined with silver fur, adjustable enough to fit any throat. He contemplates it a moment, then wraps it around his neck. You automatically move behind him to do up the buckle.
“Comfy?” You slip two fingers under the collar to check the tightness as you kiss your way from his ear to his mouth.
“Uh huh. Never worn one of these before; how do I look?”
“Like you’re made to wear it.” You stroke your fingertips under his chin. He tilts his face up with a blissful expression.
Curious, you hook a finger into the O-ring and gently tug him toward you. He moves easily, eyes wide and delighted the whole time.
“Gonna make me be a good boy, sunshine?”
“You are a good boy.” You reach down with your free hand, teasing the head of his half-hard cock, “you just need to learn a little patience, learn not to rush into things.”
“I can be patient. I’m being patient right now, aren’t I? I’m not balls deep in the gorgeous, naked woman in front of me.”
“True. But I think you need more…concerted practice.” You pull his head down by the collar and he groans as you press it into your chest, “entertain yourself for a second while I find what I need.”
Stephen happily gropes your tits as you pull the box over to your side. You grab both the wand and the rabbit vibrator, along with a condom, moan and arch your back when he teases his tongue over your left nipple.
“Good boy.” You scritch his head, luxuriating in the warm, wet swipes of his tongue, “sit up.”
He obeys, reaches for the wand, “My last girlfriend swore by this thing, you want me to use it on you?”
“Another time, baby. Put this on.” You hand him the condom. He tears it open and rolls it down; fuck, his cock is perfect, nice and thick, just the way you like.
“Now, here’s how this is going to go…” You turn the wand to the lowest setting and press it to the base of his cock. He’s panting instantly, chest heaving as you rub the device in small circles.
“Oh, oh sweetheart, ohfuck” He braces his hands on your thighs, “god bless modern technology.”
“I know, it feels good. As I was saying, I’m going to do this until you’re about to cum. When you’re close, you tell me. If you can hold off until I’m ready, you’ll get to fuck me and cum while you’re inside me. If you can’t be patient, you’ll just have to sit there like a sad puppy while I get off. Understood?”
“Uh huh, oh, ohoh” he hunches forward, resting his forehead on your shoulder, “I’m so close already, that’s” he whines as you pull the wand away. His cock drips pre-cum onto the bedspread, and a gorgeous blush covers his chest.
“Good boy.” You kiss his face, “you look so handsome.”
He beams at the praise, sighing as you kiss between his pecs. When you bite down he moans, the sound petering out as you suck a bruise into his skin.
You click the wand back on without warning and he yelps. You grip the collar again, aiming for a comforting pressure, “That’s it, I want to hear you.”
“Th-that’s a first.” He grins. You snicker and kiss him.
“Pick up the other vibrator.” Once it’s in his hand you spread your legs a little wider, “use it on me.”
Stephen shoves the toy inside you, hits the button with obvious glee. The twin vibrations on your clit and your g-spot make you moan, almost distract you from Stephen gasping, “close.”
You turn off the wand, roll your hips as you purr, “Fuck me with it.”
“Yes” he rocks the toy against you, thrusting it deeper, “oh, oh you like that?”
“Very much.” It’s heady, the degree to which he’s curious about your pleasure, the way he watches your expressions, the way your muscles tense and your hips roll as he tries out different motions with the toy.
You wait until he’s half-soft to click the wand back on. He’s so focused on fucking you with one hand and caressing your tits with the other that it takes him by complete surprise.
“Fuck!” He jerks his hips, “please, sunshine, please let me fuck you, really fuck you, I’ll make it so good for you.”
“You know what you have to do to earn it.” You press the wand to the head of his cock and he gasps, dropping his grip on the other toy to claw the bed.
“Close so close” he cuts off into a pitiful whine that juxtaposes with his grin, “you’re terrible.”
“I tend to be more agreeable once I cum-AH! Fuck, Stephen, baby, yes.” You cant your hips into the movement of the toy, orgasm building in your belly. Stephen’s hips are moving, cock bobbing as they mimic the motions of his hands.
A lifetime of apartment living taught you to keep quiet when you cum. This time, you let yourself be loud, even when you surge up to kiss him.
He watches you, starry-eyed, as you pull the toy free. When you press the wand to his cock the fourth time, he simply whimpers.
“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so well, you can be patient a little longer.”
He nods, fumbles for your other hand and sets it on the ring of the collar, “I want you so badly, I’ll do anything, god I want this every night, want you to put me on my knees, on a leash, put me anywhere you want, fuck, ohfuck sweetheart, I’m so close-”
You turn off the wand and toss it aside, “Get down here and fuck me.”
He lunges down with a grateful moan, pushing his cock into you as you laugh and wrap your legs around him.
“What do you say?” You tug the collar playfully.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you” he moans as he drives his hips into you, “you feel so good, sunshine, feel like heaven” he presses a desperate kiss to your cheek, “god you’re perfect.”
He cums with a sharp, grasping groan. You hold him, murmur in his ear that he did so well, that he made you feel so good.
After a few more shaky breaths, he kisses you and rests your foreheads together, “She didn’t even come close to how beautiful you look undressed. Won’t be able to think about anything else for the next day, at least.”
“In that case, you should probably stay the night. Can’t have you driving distracted and getting into another ‘accident’.”
He chuckles, sits up and manages to throw the condom in the trash by your desk. You kick the covers away and pose alluringly on your side, “well, Dr. Arden, shall we perform some more ‘research’ in the field of human sexual response.”
He climbs back into bed with a giddy smile, “Oh we absolutely should.”
Stephen Arden was another top contender of who people wanted me to write a fic for, so here it is! This fill is NSFW
(I think I ended up playing fast and loose with the alien's abilities in this but so it goes).
You’re a professor. You hear wild ideas every day from overconfident students.
You’ve never heard anything this baffling in your life.
“They…”
“-Combined human and alien DNA, yes.” Special Agent Joseph Stern rubs his temples, “and now it’s a shit-show.”
A worrying comment coming from him; Stern famously handled the chaos of the Silver Bridge collapse, the Tahoe incident, and whatever the hell was going on with Bray Road with only a few grey hairs to show for it.
“How do I factor in?”
“No one on that team has any expertise in astrobiology or in exochemistry. They have people who understand this world, I need them to have someone who understands other worlds, even the smallest amount. If this creature is loose there could be any number of biological hazards, as well as any number of biological means of stopping her.”
“Hoping for a War of the Worlds scenario?”
“I’m hoping the black ops agent they sent has some fucking sense. Everything beyond that is bonus.” He looks up at you, “I’m sending you because even though you’re not an agent, I trust your judgment, and I’ve seen you keep cool under pressure.”
You smile; you thought you handled yourself decently well in Puerto Rico but it’s nice to have the confirmation. Which brings you to your next question.
“How much leather?”
(When you first helped him, the other members of the team didn’t take you seriously until you turned up in a leather jacket with a hard-ass attitude to match).
He casts you a sympathetic smile, “As much as you can get away with.”
Two days into your assignment, you’ve developed the following impressions of the rest of the team: Fitch is in over his head, Laura is doing her best, Dan is a sweetheart but why on earth did the recovery team need an “empath”, Preston needs to be slapped upside the head and not in a fun way.
And then there’s…
“Morning, sunshine.” Dr. Stephen Arden appears at your side, holding two paper coffee cups, one of which he hands to you, “you’re with Dan and me.”
You take the cup with a tight lipped smile, “Good. If I have to deal with Preston for that long a drive we’ll end up with two murderous women on our hands.”
“There we go, that’s the spirit. It’ll give the three of us time to bond.”
This is what’s throwing you about Arden; he’s either deliberately ignoring your bristles or he likes them. You have a bad feeling you know which.
You’re introducing yourself to the rest of the team as you all wait for Fitch to prepare the visuals for his presentation.
Arden shakes your hand, then sticks his hands into his pockets, giving you a once-over as he says, with faux casualness, “You’re a professor you said? Where do you teach? I’m a Harvard man myself-”
“UCLA. I run the top astrobiology program in the country. But I’m sure the ivy league anthropology world is glad to have you.” You match his tone with fake politeness. The last time you worked closely with an ivy league professor he questioned every last one of your credentials until he got himself eaten by a chupacabra.
Arden looks as if you’ve slapped him, but only for a moment. Then his expression shifts to that of a dog seeing a bone just out of reach, “well, you’re just a ray of sunshine aren’t you?”
Look. Arden, with his fluffy dark hair, expressive brows, and crooked nose, is catnip to you. You want to make him kneel, pull his hair, suck bruises into his skin while he giddily fucks you.
But you can tell Arden is naturally flirtatious, the kind of man who evaluates every woman he meets through the lens of whether they’re fuckable. You watched Preston do it too, leering rather than playful, and conclude that you’re not his type.
You don’t need any of it right now. Not when you have a reputation to uphold.
You’re following the tip that Sil might have taken a train toward L.A. You and Stephen spent much of yesterday debating whether her human DNA would lead her to be a social creature or if she’d seek out solitude. You wouldn’t blame her, given her current experience with humans includes them trying to gas her.
Arden drives, insisting you take shotgun because Dan always falls asleep in the car. You assume he’s exaggerating, but after an hour of amiably chatting, the empath is sound asleep.
“Music? I’ve got lots.” Arden gestures to a box on the floor by your feet.
You select The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust. It doesn’t take long for Arden to start singing along. It’s charming and he knows it.
“C’mon, sunshine, join in.”
“Don’t push your luck; I’m not singing ‘Sweet Head’ with a co-worker.” You add a glare, “put those puppy dog eyes away.”
“They’re working,” Dan murmurs from the backseat.
You set your head in your hands with a joking sigh of despair, “I should’ve just gone with Preston and Laura.”
“You would’ve been a third wheel to them eye-fucking each other.” Arden changes lanes toward the exit.
“Something you haven’t been trying to do this whole drive?” You give him a pointed look.
“That’s eye-lovemaking, I’ll have you know.”
You laugh, Dan doing the same from behind you as he says, “I changed my mind, please grab the steering wheel and crash us before he tries anymore wordplay.”
Thirty minutes later, you’re staring at the remnants of a fucking cocoon, trying to get a sample for testing while the others strategize as to whether Sil got off the train in L.A. Fitch fussed at you to be careful, that this was foreign material, potentially dangerous, until you snapped and told him you’d handle material samples far more volatile and classified than this.
You join them just in time to hear Arden saying “it’s perfect for her, totally mobile population.”
You snort, “Ah yes, major metropolitan areas. Notoriously without a stable population of people making them run.”
“You know what I mean. It’s a big city with lots of people coming and going.”
“Then say that.” You brush past him, “investigation lives and dies in the details.”
He scoffs, “Well excuse me, sunshine.”
You ignore him and start talking about make-shift lab options with Fitch and Laura. Yes, you’re being pedantic, but you didn’t get where you are by being fucking careless.
Arden keeps his distance until lunch. The group discusses whether Sil might be looking for a mate, and then you and Arden start speculating on what non-human genetics mean in terms of estrus, until Preston tells you to shut the hell up because some people are trying to eat.
You can’t prove it, but you suspect Preston is the one responsible for you all being short a room when you check in to the hotel, as he’s a little too quick to suggest you and Arden be the pair to double up.
“That way you can practice your bickering married couple act in private.”
Some battles aren’t worth picking, so you take the offered key.
As you’re unpacking, Arden keeps glancing over from where he’s pulling items from a duffle bag, “Don’t look so worried, sunshine. I know how to be a gentleman, I swear.”
“Firstly, my face just looks like this. Secondly; good. Because if you didn’t, I’m not beyond tying your hands when you go to bed.”
“Really?” He takes a few steps towards you, “you promise?”
You bring yourself toe to toe with him with a sly smile. Then you set a hand on his belt, quickly unbuckling it and yanking it off. Arden grins, moves his hands toward your waist and, in the process, puts them where you need them.
Wrapping the leather around his wrists, you tighten the belt and step out of reach. You carefully watch his face for distress and get only mild confusion.
He looks between your face and his bound hands before playfully saying, “I thought we were finally getting along.”
“We are. If we weren’t, I’d just leave you like this until we have to go to the lab.” You hold out your hand and he sets his wrists in it without hesitation. You undo the belt, pass it back to him, “I need to rinse off; the scent from that cocoon is sticking to me and I hate it.”
“Right” he shoots you a shyer, sweeter smile this time and you realize that the charming bastard can, in fact, make you blush.
An extremely stressful twenty-four hours later, you, Arden, and the rest of the team stand by a pool. The body of Sil’s newest victim has yet to be gurneyed out, and you watch Laura and Arden trade increasingly anxious comments about whether she successfully mated.
“Check the pool filters.” Arden barks toward some of Fitch’s men.
You raise your brows “For what?”
“Ejaculate.”
“Oh for-” you gesture to the body, “it’d be more reliable to do a urethral swab to determine if there are any sperm present, indicating recent ejaculation.”
“....Right, that’s a much better idea, do that instead.” Arden steps back from the pool, glancing your way, “good thinking.”
You flash him a smile as Fitch approaches you with the new plan; stake out the club Sil seems to be using as her hunting grounds in the hopes that she’ll repeat her pattern that night.
Which is why you’re now squeezed in a bar chair as bass thumps all around you. The six of you have spread out, searching for her.
“This is ridiculous.” Arden mutters as he passes you.
“Agreed. We all look like fucking narcs.” You tilt your head at Preston and Laura at the bar, standing out stiffly in spite of their flirtation, “even if Sil doesn’t know most of us on sight, right now anyone, alien or not, can tell we’re looking for someone.”
He nods, then taps your shoulder, “I’ve got an idea. Take off the jacket and follow me.”
You lay the leather coat on the back of your chair, only for Arden to toss his own jacket on top of it and pull you into the chaos of the dance floor.
“We’ll blend in this way.” He gracefully spins you so your back is to his front, mimicking many of the dancers around you.
“I’m only going along with this because you’re right. And she might be looking for men already paired with women; letting someone else vet suitable mates for her.” You grin at him as he sways you to the beat.
“I’m suitable for mating?”
“Don’t push it.” You scan the floor, Arden doing the same, with no sign of Sil among the gorgeous blondes prowling for partners.
“These are a surprise” he runs his hands up your arms and over the tattoos on your biceps, “you’ve got a wild side, sunshine. Check behind me.” He spins you chest to chest.
“Nothing so far.” You slip your hands into his back pockets, roll your body to the music.
“You’ve done this before.” He runs his hands up your sides, emboldened by your touch. He’s a good dancer, easily following the beat and syncing with your movements.
“Girl has to blow off steam somehow.” You wish you were in one of those clubs now, that Arden was just another guy who’d made it clear he liked women in leather boots and black lipstick who looked like they could kick his ass. The problem is he’s not, the more you talk the more he feels like he’s your match in all the right ways, even when you snipe at each other.
“How else do you like to blow off steam?” He’s looking down at you now, arms around your waist so you can’t bolt from the conversation. It’s flirtatious, curious too; like he’s trying to get to know you. You want to lower the curtain, give him just a little peek.
“I’ve got a whole box of tricks.” You purr.
He bends down, barely audible over the music, “Maybe when this all over you can-”
A commotion from outside, Laura and Preston sprinting for the door with Fitch on their heels.
“Guess someone spotted her.” Arden keeps hold of your hand, tossing you your coat as you follow the others into the night, leaving whatever was blooming between you to die on the dance floor.
You’re back in a club far sooner than you anticipated. The hotel bar this time, not quite as rowdy but still packed with bodies pursuing a wild Saturday night.
Technically, you’re celebrating; Sil crashed a stolen car straight into a transformer, electrocuting herself. At least that’s what the body you all found suggests. Fitch seems satisfied with that conclusion.
Arden is enjoying the excuse to buy drinks on “Uncle Sam’s dime,” ordering long island ice teas for himself and Dan. You tease him for drinking like a valley girl on vacation, to which he insists you shouldn’t knock it until you try it.
Two drinks in, you have to say that he has a point.
“Well, sunshine, am I allowed to order again?” His arm drapes over the booth behind you.
You fiddle with the straw, smiling at him, “Provisionally.”
“Hey, you’re moving up in the world.” Dan teases, making you both laugh.
You excuse yourself to the bathroom, Arden’s eyes tracking you all the way to the door. As you’re checking your lipstick in the mirror, the woman next to you asks if she can borrow it.
“Mine melted” she says as you pass over the tube and check the corners of your mouth for any plum pigment that went astray.
When you step back into the club, you’re just in time to see Laura and Preston disappearing together. You’ve worked on plenty of professional teams. Many of the men on them saw that as the natural outcome for a woman co-worker; a girlfriend, a wife, someone just in the field until she can find a man to take her out of it.
A hand on your arm makes you jump, on account of the whole “killer alien” thing being top of mind.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Arden’s hand moves slowly down your arm as he talks, “Things are wrapping up down here so I thought maybe it was time we headed back to our room. Got into bed.” His voice dips seductively lower as his hand finds yours.
The natural outcome.
You pull your hand from his and step away, “I, I need to get some air. Take a walk.”
His face falls, “So you don’t-”
You want to say “not yet” or “we’ll see” but a frustrated, entitled look lingers in his eyes a little too long.
“No. I don’t.”
He might say something else, but you move to the door too fast to catch it.
The swirl of smell outside–hot pavement, night air, a dozen different perfumes from passersby– grounds you. You take deliberate, measured breaths as you circle the block. You love cities at night, the play of lights off the buildings and snatches of conversation you catch as people bustle past you.
It takes three laps before you’re ready to go inside. You got up in your own head, got ahead of yourself, and at the very least you want to explain things so Arden knows there’s no bad blood between you, not really. Just some baggage.
Opening the hotel room door, you’re met with the tell-tale sound of post-coital panting.
“Seriously, Ar...den-” You freeze in the doorway.
Arden is on his back on the bed. You’re straddling him.
“Fuck.” Is all you get out before Sil swipes down at Arden. He’s midway through rolling out from under her when she does, screaming when she makes contact with his back and sides.
You hurl the desk lamp at her, catching her in the head. She charges you, slamming you into the wall and digging claws into your leg. You scream as tendons tear, jab your fingers forward and connect with her eyes. She drops you, hissing, then smashes through the back window as footsteps thunder down the hall.
Dragging yourself across the floor, you reach for Arden. He’s breathing, manages to look at you when you weakly call his name.
“I thought…I thought she was you.” He whimpers.
You manage a dry laugh through the pain flooding your body, “Yeah, Stephen, I gathered.”
When you went under for surgery on your damaged leg, you weren’t sure if you’d wake up in a hospital or in government quarantine.
The speckled ceiling suggests the former. The fact Agent Stern is sitting near your hospital bed suggests the latter.
“Are we in Area 51?” You’re mostly joking.
He shakes his head, “No. You’re in L.A General. We did initially keep Dr. Arden in more intense containment since there was fluid exchange.” He indicates the other bed in the room, where Stephen is asleep.
“That answers my question of whether he fucked the alien.” You rub your forehead, “jesus, I feel like I got hit by a truck.”
“The good news is you don’t have a concussion. You escaped your ‘car accident’ with just a leg injury.”
“If anyone asks, he was driving.” You shrug a shoulder toward Stephen.
“Lies. You Americans drive like maniacs, everyone knows that.” His voice is faint, but there’s a tiny smile on his face that makes you feel like everything will be okay.
Stern updates you on what happened after Sil’s attack, including the fact that she’s confirmed dead.
“Guess you won’t be able to claim you’re the father of a new hybrid species.” You turn your head on the pillow, looking at Stephen.
“Course not. I’m far too young to be a father.” He frowns at the ceiling, “although if she had offspring with me, they’d be more genetically human than not…”
“I wonder what traits would dominate. Like, would having majority human DNA turn off the genes that allow for shapeshifting?”
“Or limit it, maybe, so the offspring could only change facets of their appearance…”
From your left, Stern chuckles, “I’ll leave you two alone.”
“You know, it’d be safer if I kept my eyes open when you change.”
You look over your shoulder as you finish pulling on your shirt, “Oh?”
He smiles, “That way if an alien impersonates you again, I’ll be able to tell if she matches the genuine article.”
“If she’s trying to fuck you, she’s not me.” Pain sharpens the comment beyond what you intended. Your leg is doing better, your mobility is returning, but it still hurts like a motherfucker.
Stephen is quiet for a moment, then murmurs, “Why do you hate me? I’ve spent the entire time we’ve known each other trying to get on your good side.”
You decide to blame the sniffling in his voice on the painkillers.
“I don’t hate you. But I should point out, you try to get on everyone’s good side, especially if they’ve got nice tits.” You sigh, “Stephen, how many women are on this team, including all the agents Preston called in and the techs Fitch used?”
He counts, thoughtfully, “Laura, you, at least one lab tech…”
You hold four fingers where he can see them, “That’s it. And do you know how many women are doctors in exobiology? Six in the whole country, including me. Every room I’m in, there are people thinking that I’m there to match up with one of them, not do my work, because that’s what the nearest available woman is clearly for.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-”
“I know. Look, Stephen, I do actually like you.” You smile, “Sil could have done a lot worse for mates.”
He’s quiet for a long time, hands resting on his stomach. Finally, he says, “She didn’t smell right.”
“What?”
“Your shampoo is distinct. It wasn’t there when she came on to me, but it happened so fast and I wanted so badly for it to be real that I ignored the fact something was missing. She even had your lipstick.”
“She must have been who borrowed it in the bathroom.” You wonder, not for the first time, how much Sil got right about your body. If Stephen enjoyed what he saw.
“I like that lipstick.” He muses, then winks at you, “you’ve got a lot of style for a geek, sunshine.”
“And you’ve got a lot of charm for a nerd, professor.”
He blows you a cheeky kiss, grinning ear to ear when you laugh.
—------------------
“Promise you’ll keep in touch?” Given his injuries are more severe, Stephen is being kept under observation another few days, but you’re officially discharged.
“I’ll do my best.” You offer him your hand, “Don’t get up to too much trouble now that you’ve got the room to yourself.”
He takes your hand, hesitates, then pulls you into a hug, “Thanks for saving my life.”
“You’re welcome.” You step back, not quite ready to take your eyes off him, “if you’re ever in L.A again, look me up.”
Stephen gives your hand a final squeeze, “you’ll be my first stop.”
—---------------------------
Spring semester gives way to summer; you only teach two classes, use the extra time for your own research.
You hold office hours early on Fridays. Today you’re busy revising your exam questions when brisk footsteps cross the threshold.
You don’t look up as you say, “Let me just save this and I’ll be riiiight with you.”
“No need to hurry on my account.” Stephen flashes a brilliant smile when you look up, “I’m just here to introduce myself to my fellow professors.”
To keep from jumping up excitedly, you cock an eyebrow, “You’re on the wrong end of campus for that.”
“I know. I went to the Anthropology department yesterday. Forgive me for not making you my first stop?”
“Yes–wait, you're actually here to teach?”
“A one-year visiting professorship. Arranged by the men in black, if I had to guess. Think they’re worried Sil might not be as dead as we thought.”
“Peachy.”
A soft chuckle, “I missed you, sunshine.” He runs a finger along your “out” tray, “on the flight over, I kept asking myself ‘how do I get off on the right foot this time’. Then I thought, ‘no point in overcomplicating things, just ask her to dinner.’”
“And are you?” You move around the desk to stand next to him.
“Yes.” He nods, still toying with odds and ends on your desk, expression sincere as he adds, “Dinner with a woman I can’t get out of my head. That’s all I want. No strings attached, no expectations.”
“None?” You adjust his lapels to keep your fingers from getting other ideas.
“None.” His eyes glint hopefully as you pick up a pen.
You scribble your address on a post-it, “Pick me up here at seven. If you behave at dinner, I might invite you in for coffee after.”
The front door whams into the wall much louder than you intended. In your defense, Stephen is at your back, whispering endearingly filthy promises as the pair of you fumble your way into the apartment. Your keys land near their usual hook, your heels come off in a hurry, and Stephen shucks his jacket the instant the door is shut.
The red roses he brought you when picking you up rustle precariously as you back him into the table. He kissed you sweetly outside the restaurant, asking if you’d like to find somewhere to dance. Kissing you now, he’s equal parts doting and demanding, pressing his lips to yours like it’s where he belongs, and like he’s so fucking happy to have found it.
“I tried going out a few times since I last saw you.” Stephen murmurs between kisses, “kept looking for you on the dance floor, couldn’t even make a pass at someone unless she had on a leather jacket.”
“Baby, plenty of women dress like I do.” You coax him down the hall after you with kisses.
“Never got through more than one dance without losing interest.” He catches up to you, embraces you and sways you into your bedroom, “not like tonight, fuck” he groans as you nip his collarbone, “you’re lucky we didn’t end up fucking in the middle of the floor.”
“Mmmmm, you do move your body well, Mr. Arden.” You unbutton his shirt, “gonna show me how else you can use it?”
“Yes, mmhyes” He keeps trying to answer even as he cups your chin and kisses you.
“Get naked and get on the bed.” You wiggle out of your dress and panties, toss your bra on top of it. The sight of you topless moves his disrobing from energetic to frantic. You toy with him a little, kiss his face and stroke his chest as he fights to get his pants and underwear off.
He topples onto the bed and you pounce on him, straddling his thighs and kissing him hungrily, his fingers carding your hair, before sitting back to take in the view.
The view suddenly looks very anxious.
“M-maybe not cowgirl just yet?” His brown eyes flick back and forth as if he’s in danger.
“Fuck, you’re right, I’m so sorry.” You clamber off him and he sits up, noticeably relaxing as he moves in to kiss your neck and chest.
“You recover quick, huh?” You run your hands up his thighs
“You make it easy.” He brushes his nose against yours, “are you gonna show me something from that ‘box of tricks.’”
“Wait right here.” You kiss him and hop off the bed, grabbing a small, black box from the closet. When you turn, Stephen is laying with his back against the wall, hands behind his head.
“Just enjoying the view.”
“Yeah?” You saunter back toward him, “hoping for a peek at my box?”
“Oh it’ll be more than a peek.” He sits up, peering excitedly in as you lift the lid. You’re curious which item he’ll gravitate to, and he licks his lips excitedly as takes in the collection of toys and bondage gear.
Stephen gingerly lifts the black leather collar you bought the one time you made the trek to San Francisco for the Folsom Street Fair. It’s lined with silver fur, adjustable enough to fit any throat. He contemplates it a moment, then wraps it around his neck. You automatically move behind him to do up the buckle.
“Comfy?” You slip two fingers under the collar to check the tightness as you kiss your way from his ear to his mouth.
“Uh huh. Never worn one of these before; how do I look?”
“Like you’re made to wear it.” You stroke your fingertips under his chin. He tilts his face up with a blissful expression.
Curious, you hook a finger into the O-ring and gently tug him toward you. He moves easily, eyes wide and delighted the whole time.
“Gonna make me be a good boy, sunshine?”
“You are a good boy.” You reach down with your free hand, teasing the head of his half-hard cock, “you just need to learn a little patience, learn not to rush into things.”
“I can be patient. I’m being patient right now, aren’t I? I’m not balls deep in the gorgeous, naked woman in front of me.”
“True. But I think you need more…concerted practice.” You pull his head down by the collar and he groans as you press it into your chest, “entertain yourself for a second while I find what I need.”
Stephen happily gropes your tits as you pull the box over to your side. You grab both the wand and the rabbit vibrator, along with a condom, moan and arch your back when he teases his tongue over your left nipple.
“Good boy.” You scritch his head, luxuriating in the warm, wet swipes of his tongue, “sit up.”
He obeys, reaches for the wand, “My last girlfriend swore by this thing, you want me to use it on you?”
“Another time, baby. Put this on.” You hand him the condom. He tears it open and rolls it down; fuck, his cock is perfect, nice and thick, just the way you like.
“Now, here’s how this is going to go…” You turn the wand to the lowest setting and press it to the base of his cock. He’s panting instantly, chest heaving as you rub the device in small circles.
“Oh, oh sweetheart, ohfuck” He braces his hands on your thighs, “god bless modern technology.”
“I know, it feels good. As I was saying, I’m going to do this until you’re about to cum. When you’re close, you tell me. If you can hold off until I’m ready, you’ll get to fuck me and cum while you’re inside me. If you can’t be patient, you’ll just have to sit there like a sad puppy while I get off. Understood?”
“Uh huh, oh, ohoh” he hunches forward, resting his forehead on your shoulder, “I’m so close already, that’s” he whines as you pull the wand away. His cock drips pre-cum onto the bedspread, and a gorgeous blush covers his chest.
“Good boy.” You kiss his face, “you look so handsome.”
He beams at the praise, sighing as you kiss between his pecs. When you bite down he moans, the sound petering out as you suck a bruise into his skin.
You click the wand back on without warning and he yelps. You grip the collar again, aiming for a comforting pressure, “That’s it, I want to hear you.”
“Th-that’s a first.” He grins. You snicker and kiss him.
“Pick up the other vibrator.” Once it’s in his hand you spread your legs a little wider, “use it on me.”
Stephen shoves the toy inside you, hits the button with obvious glee. The twin vibrations on your clit and your g-spot make you moan, almost distract you from Stephen gasping, “close.”
You turn off the wand, roll your hips as you purr, “Fuck me with it.”
“Yes” he rocks the toy against you, thrusting it deeper, “oh, oh you like that?”
“Very much.” It’s heady, the degree to which he’s curious about your pleasure, the way he watches your expressions, the way your muscles tense and your hips roll as he tries out different motions with the toy.
You wait until he’s half-soft to click the wand back on. He’s so focused on fucking you with one hand and caressing your tits with the other that it takes him by complete surprise.
“Fuck!” He jerks his hips, “please, sunshine, please let me fuck you, really fuck you, I’ll make it so good for you.”
“You know what you have to do to earn it.” You press the wand to the head of his cock and he gasps, dropping his grip on the other toy to claw the bed.
“Close so close” he cuts off into a pitiful whine that juxtaposes with his grin, “you’re terrible.”
“I tend to be more agreeable once I cum-AH! Fuck, Stephen, baby, yes.” You cant your hips into the movement of the toy, orgasm building in your belly. Stephen’s hips are moving, cock bobbing as they mimic the motions of his hands.
A lifetime of apartment living taught you to keep quiet when you cum. This time, you let yourself be loud, even when you surge up to kiss him.
He watches you, starry-eyed, as you pull the toy free. When you press the wand to his cock the fourth time, he simply whimpers.
“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so well, you can be patient a little longer.”
He nods, fumbles for your other hand and sets it on the ring of the collar, “I want you so badly, I’ll do anything, god I want this every night, want you to put me on my knees, on a leash, put me anywhere you want, fuck, ohfuck sweetheart, I’m so close-”
You turn off the wand and toss it aside, “Get down here and fuck me.”
He lunges down with a grateful moan, pushing his cock into you as you laugh and wrap your legs around him.
“What do you say?” You tug the collar playfully.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you” he moans as he drives his hips into you, “you feel so good, sunshine, feel like heaven” he presses a desperate kiss to your cheek, “god you’re perfect.”
He cums with a sharp, grasping groan. You hold him, murmur in his ear that he did so well, that he made you feel so good.
After a few more shaky breaths, he kisses you and rests your foreheads together, “She didn’t even come close to how beautiful you look undressed. Won’t be able to think about anything else for the next day, at least.”
“In that case, you should probably stay the night. Can’t have you driving distracted and getting into another ‘accident’.”
He chuckles, sits up and manages to throw the condom in the trash by your desk. You kick the covers away and pose alluringly on your side, “well, Dr. Arden, shall we perform some more ‘research’ in the field of human sexual response.”
He climbs back into bed with a giddy smile, “Oh we absolutely should.”
Well, i think Molina hands are the most sexy phisical thing about him after the gorgeous T area(eyes/eyebrows and nose), then btw third comes his size and then his voice. So my horny question is.. Is there a Molina character thinking about sharing reader with another Molina character? They all seem needy and possessive. But maybe someone would double team into giving a double handjob/titplay with reader?
Dude, not to spoil the Boroughs but that scene where he's in bed with his wife in the first episode and they're holding hands???????????
My toes curled.
BECAUSE OF EXPLICIT CONTENT PLEASE CHECK UNDER THE READMORE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, WARNING FOR DUBCON/MANIPULATION
HMMMMM WHO WOULD BE WILLING TO SHARE; OH! OH! OH!
I HAVE A 'COMTE AND THE BISHOP ARINGAROSA ARE BROTHERS AND DECIDE TO SHARE A READER (NO INCEST)' FIC IN THE WINGS THAT I FORGOT ABOUT U TIL YOU JUST MENTIONED THAT!!!!!
Ok, so while I don't think the Comte would bring just anyone into the bedroom with him, I could totally see him being manipulated by a corrupt man of the clothe like the Bishop Aringarosa...I could definitely see the Bishop demanding to perform a 'purity' check on the Comte's love interest (maybe fiancee?) that gets out of hand and he ends up fingering her and the sound of the reader's wet cunt leads to Comte losing control and tongue kissing her for the first time as Manuel coaxes her thru her first orgasm...
Hmmmmm who else, who else...
There's a Leland Drury and Angelo, I still need to finish, too!
I wanna write a fic where these two are in on some scam and trick a poor innocent nun into going on the run with them (I'm thinking she doesn't know they're on the run, she thinks she's just travelling with a priest and reformed gambler who's found god, so her guard is completely down), and they definitely get her drunk and take advantage, not taking her virginity, but doing everything but as they strip her down to her small clothes one night by the fire and Leland coos some bullshit about her being the temptation in the desert as they direct her on how to stroke their cocks as they pinch and grope and play with her all over...
Hm who else...
From my Anastasia fic, Vlad and Dmitri would totally share Anya!Reader 💯 percent...
I could definitely see them sharing Anya, neither willing to risk their reward by taking her virginity, so they have to satisfy her in other ways ...I'm seeing Vlad fucking her thighs with her on her back as Dmitri feeds her his cock...
Jim Bussey/Sam cooper/ Reader: Jim is brought in to be the funeral director in The Burroughs and reader is his wife/co funeral director. Sam cannot work out how this old morbid weirdo married a younger woman. Jim can tell reader has a crush on Sam.
not every mutual fits neatly into an archetypal medievalism but there are some mutuals that im like yeah addressing you as “my liege” would come strangely naturally
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Water Man (2020)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jim Bussey/Reader
Characters: Jim Bussey, Reader
Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Consensual Somnophilia, Dirty Talk, Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Gentle Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Established Relationship, Female Reader-Insert, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert
Summary:
You undress without bothering to close the blinds. Your only neighbor is Jim Bussey, and his windows are dark. He’s probably already asleep. Nude, you pause to check your phone, and then put on deodorant, change into your pajamas, and climb into bed.
Across the narrow patch of grass and bushes between your houses, Jim Bussey stands invisible in front of the darkened window and watches.
crozier wearing fitzjames' sweater and gloves after he dies makes hickey stealing his boots even more fucked up but also so much funnier actually like they were all just dumpster diving in that man's grave
