#+ then had to hold her thighs and she would Not get down she was like omg dont let goooo

[trashytracktales]

Hiii, I’m not sure if your requests are open, but if they are, could you write something with Lando and Reader where they have been dating for just a few weeks, haven’t had sex yet. One day they’re working out together at Lando’s house in Monaco (the room with the mirror from the video I Ate and Trained Like Lando Norris for 24 hours). Reader is doing squats with her back towards the mirror and Lando can’t help but stare at her ass and he gets hard / flustered so he stops from doing his exercise and reader asks him what’s wrong and before he answers she realises he’s horny so she teases him - this time on purpose- and then they fuck in that room on the floor

In the heat of it | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you for trusting me enough to bring this to life, it was... something 🥵

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𐙚 summary ──── They've been dating for a few weeks now, but the time was never right for them to get intimate. During a playful workout together, Lando gets caught staring, sparking a moment that leaves them both realizing just how deep their connection actually goes.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, fluff & smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, suggestive/flirty behavior. MDNI!

𐙚 word count ──── 3.6k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 12, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Enjoy watching Lando learn that some cardio sessions have unexpected side effects 🤍🎀

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

IT DOESN’T TAKE long before Lando starts to regret his decision. It would have been much easier to invite his girlfriend to have lunch together. That would have saved him from a constant dry mouth and irregular heartbeat every time he feels her eyes accidentally landing on him.

The smooth floor and sophisticated equipment in his personal gym are softly bathed in the morning sun that seeps through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Monaco's streets are still peaceful at this hour, considering it's the middle of the week, and the port is sparkling in the sunlight.

The room usually has a subtle scent of cedar and rubber, fresh and energized, but now it carries a sweet honey scent, borrowed from her presence.

They are already halfway through their warm-up. She’s pulling a resistance band around her thighs, stretching before they dive into the heavier part of their routine, her focus completely on the exercises he’s walked her through. But, of course, a huge part of her focuses on how Lando touches her, purposely, to guide her when her posture doesn't match the exercise.

Even in simple gym shorts and a T-shirt, Lando somehow manages to look so effortlessly attractive — curly hair a little messy, face flushed just enough from their recent sets, and his labored breathing after putting in the effort. He’s all energy, fluid in his movements, though he's clearly trying to keep his pace casual.

“Lookin’ strong,” he teases, flashing a grin as she adjusts her stance.

The girl shrugs, “I’m just that good at following instructions. Although, I think having one of the best trainers in the area helps, too.”

Lando lets a chuckle out, “I won't go easy on you just because you kiss-ass. But it’s cute to see you trying.”

Even though they have only been dating for a few weeks, there is an undeniable spark between them two, especially in a setting where every glance and skin-to-skin contact feels amplified by the intensity of their exercises. Her sports outfit leaves no room for interpretations, hugging her curves and defining her lines, and Lando's imagination is stimulated every time he turns his gaze towards her.

He’s now down on the floor, holding a plank, his core engaged and muscles taut as he fights to hold his body up and spine straight. She’s supposed to be timing him, but the second he shoots her a cheeky grin, she decides she can’t resist a bit of fun; in her defense, he started it. With a simple touch, the seconds freeze on the screen of his phone, then she places it on one of the boxes stored in the corner of the room.

“Hi there,” says the girl in a soft tone once she sits down in front of him just inches apart, propping herself up on her elbows so her face is level with his.

Lando raises his eyebrows, trying not to laugh as his shoulders shake slightly from the effort of holding his body weight. “Don’t,” he warns her, breath coming in controlled puffs.

“I’m not doing anything,” she smiles innocently, kicking her feet in the air while inching a little closer until her nose almost brushes his.

He laughs at her bad acting, his arms starting to shake a bit more. “Outrageous is what you are.”

She pouts just as Lando dips his head down, managing to steal a playful kiss. Their lips meet briefly, soft and warm, before he pulls back up to maintain his form. It makes her sigh in frustration, the ghost of a kiss not nearly enough for her. If anything, it only leaves her wanting more.

Luckily, he doesn’t pull back when she cups his cheek in her palm, pressing her mouth on his once more, his giggles mixing with hers as he tries to keep his balance. Savoring the feel of his lips and the way Lando grunts softly into the kiss, she can feel that this one is more deeper and slower — much real — making her shiver. It seems as though everything else disappears, the feel of each other reminding them both why they decided to give the relationship a shot in the first place.

“And you are so fun to corrupt,” she admits, finally getting up to give Lando time to recover.

After a few sets, she finally moves on to squats, and Lando follows her positioning herself in front of the mirror. It wasn't even supposed to be there, but he sometimes uses the gym as a storage room for random packages. This one, specifically, came in the mail a few weeks ago and he didn't have time to hang it in the hallway, where he initially planned. So, he simply let it rest against the wall in his gym room, and it's been there ever since. Forgotten.

Giving the circumstances, he is seriously thinking of leaving it there for good.

Conveniently, Lando decides that now is the perfect time to start his Russian twists, so he bends over to collect a dumbbell off the floor, then sits down on the yoga mat. Right in front of her.

Unaware of the effect she's having on him, he watches her go through each squat with his eyes trailing down on the reflection of her ass in the mirror, an intense warmth spreading over him as he tries to focus on his own exercise. It is quite innocent — he's just respectfully looking — until it isn't. Until he feels it in his boxers. Until he almost drops the dumbbell, which catches her attention.

Lando tries to ignore it, though, to nonchallantly brush it off, telling himself that it's natural and that he's just admiring her physical appearance. Anyone in his shoes would do it. However, his thoughts start to wander, images flashing uninvited as his heart rate quickens for reasons far beyond the exercise.

“Are you okay down there, hotshot? What are you fighting?” she asks curiously, raising her head just enough to catch the dazed look on Lando’s face.

Her voice pulls him back, his breath catching for a moment, “Yeah, never better.”

It's his husky voice that gives it away. Right after, she notices a lingering gaze, and the soft pink creeping across his features as his eyes are fixed ahead. She stops, fixing her posture and straightening her back as she turns to catch his gaze in the mirror. She realizes exactly what's going on in a matter of seconds, a little grin forming in the corner of her mouth.

“Am I too dictracting, Lando?” she purrs, her question — and the fact that he knows she caught him in act — not helping at all.

“No,” he lies, “But I think you’re killing it with those squats.”

“And if I turn around to finish my set, what then?” she whispers, a challenge glinting in her eyes as she brushes the tip of her tongue against her lower lip.

His breath is shallow the moment he decides to abandon his exercise. “Then you would be killing me,” he admits with no restraints. “So, by any means, proceed. Please.”

She glances over to see Lando lying flat on his back, one arm draped dramatically over his eyes, as if he's in serious pain. His other hand is splayed over his stomach, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm. It’s still funny to see him like that, but then she notices the way his chest rises and falls a bit too fast, and her eyes drift lower, catching a glimpse of the growing bulge in his shorts, an unmistakable proof of what she’s actually doing to him.

Suddenly, all the amusement disappears from her face, being replaced by a warmth that wraps around her neck, and rising to her cheeks. Her heart is slowly starting to race, small impulses between her thighs forcing her to close them together.

Swallowing hard, she crosses the small space to kneel beside him, gently pulling his arm away from his eyes. His lashes flicker open, meeting her gaze with a mix of embarrassment and desire. And so much lust.

“How can I help you?” asks Lando, his voice rougher than usual, trying to keep things light, though the hint of vulnerability shows in his eyes, and it's not that hard to read.

She chuckles nervously, “The question is how can I help you?”

In response, Lando uses the same hand to wrap his fingers around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. She feels his hand squeezing a little, the other one moving to her waist, hesitating before pulling her completely on top of him, without breaking the kiss. His tongue slips firmly into her mouth, just as it has done so many times before, but now it feels somehow different. Somehow, they both know that the kiss is meant to lead to something much more intense, because there's nothing stopping them anymore.

In the intimacy of his apartment, without interruption, Lando lowers his hands to her waist, rubbing her against him. Slowly. Repeatedly. The pressure forces them to moan in unison — a brief taste of the pleasure they are about to share. His hands then drop lower, roaming over her thighs, then back down to her ass, cupping it in his large palms.

He breaks away just enough to murmur, his voice low and almost reverent, “That enough of an answer?”

“Positive,” she replies, feeling his breath hitch as she shifts on top of him, straddling his hips, her hands splaying over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

Her lips find his again, sweet and intoxicating, each kiss sending sparks to her core. The new position makes her feel him much more firmly between her legs, taking Lando by surprise when her hand lowers to cover his length, massaging him through the thin material of his shorts.

“Fucking hell,” his lips stutter against hers, while rocking his hips into her touch.

“Yeah…” she agrees, breathing hotly above him, “Did I do this to you?”

Before Lando gets a chance to even think of an answer, she slips her hand under the elastic band of his boxers, taking him in her hand, feeling him in his entirety — deliciously soft skin, warm and ready, and so painfully hard.

It makes her ache for him.

She pumps his cock in her hand a few times, enough for her to feel how he shifts under her. It takes her a lot of self-control to stop herself from taking him in her mouth the second she hears his sweet little panting, her thumb rubbing softly over his swollen tip.

The workout itself had left Lando’s muscles burning, but her touch it’s something else entirely, igniting a heat in him that burns deeper than anything he’s felt before. Five more minutes enjoying the same high and he can give up cardio completely. Guaranteed.

Slowly coming back to his senses, Lando realizes that he has free will, so he slips his hands under her sports bra, palming her hungrily until he feels her nipples hardening under his touch. He breaths heavily as he rolls them between his fingers, managing to make her respond with a soft meowl, her grip on his cock losening.

That's his cue to take the lead, pulling her bra over her head in a quick move, and flipping their bodies over so that now he's hovering above her, eyes filled with need while looking down at her.

“Hi there,” Lando copies her tone from earlier, feeling a little fraction of the power she had over him.

She wants to talk back so badly — one of her sarcastic little comments that she knows he loves — but all she can do is let out a pathetic whimper between her lips when his mouth finds home on her bare breast. At that, Lando feels a shiver running down his spine, looking up at how she closes her eyes in pleasure, arching her back more against his mouth.

“Driving me insane with your pretty ass, baby,” he says, breathing heavily, managing to cover her body in a thin layer of goosebumps, “And your pretty fucking nipples.”

“Lando…” she lets another cry slip out, opening her eyes to look at him.

The image that greets her makes her breath catch in her throat. The way he sucks on her nipple while playing with the other one, and the way he looks up at her through his eyelashes — it’s all too much. She ends up wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him down with her. Then she runs her hands down his back, tugging at the edge of his shirt, tossing the useless material carelessly to the floor before pulling him closer for another kiss.

Mouth to mouth, chest to chest, skin on skin — who says heaven isn't real?

But if that's heaven, then what can she name the feeling she gets the moment his hand slips into her gym shorts and his fingers brush against her soaked entrance? Because it feels way too fucking good — much better than she expected, and certainly much better than her own hand whenever she pictured his face while fingering herself.

Lando starts slowly at first, spreading her wetness around her pussy, then fucking his fingers in and out, while cautiously watching her facial expressions changing. It’s not taking him long before finding that sweet, sweet spot that makes her roll her hips into his hand, desperation painted all over her face.

“Lan… yes,” she starts panting, “That’s—yes, right there.”

He hums proudly, sealing his mouth to hers, while parting her thighs with his knee so he can spread her more in front of him. Feeling herself open to his touch, so easy and wet, he no longer feels self-conscious about the way she's so quickly tunring him boneless under her gaze. He realizes that the feeling is mutual, and it makes him want her even more.

If that's even possible.

The sound of his fingers repeatedly fucking into her is all that anchors her in the present moment, but the second Lando feels her squeezing around them, he stops so he can silently ask for her permission to take the last piece of her clothing off.

She nods in a rush, swallowing the lump in her throat in anticipation.

Every inch of her is now bathed in the soft, golden light streaming through the window. Warm shadows are cast along her curves, the light outlining each delicate contour of her body as though the sun itself is painting her in real time. The image is so powerful yet vulnerable as she stands there, her figure glimmering with an almost unearthly serene confidence. Lando is utterly captivated by how ethereal she looks, like a goddess come to life, the kind he never imagined he would be close enough to even touch, let alone enjoy. He feels like he’s witnessing something sacred, something so incredibly rare, and the awe he feels is mixed with gratitude that she’s here with him, letting him see her in a such perfect lighting.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Lando finally manages to say, hoping that he hasn't started drooling all over her in the meantime. “All of you.”

“Your turn,” she says in a muffled voice, slightly bashful at the way he stares at her like he wants to devour her. Which is not far from the truth.

He agrees that it's a fair request, realizing that the only thing separating them now are his own shorts. Without protesting — because that would be so fucking dumb considering how hard he is — Lando gets rid of them with the speed of a perfect qualifying lap.

Matching the same pace, Lando’s hands slide around her waist, his fingers pressing gently into her hips as he guides them both to the side so they can face the window — or that's what she thought. Confused at first, she's frowning at him, then follows his gaze, lost in the direction of their reflection, understanding immediately what he really wants — a show. A show just for them, in which they can lose themselves together, without limits.

She sighs at the sight of their hot, naked bodies, the way he aligns himself with her, and how he’s finally pushing inside, enough to hear her whimper. She watches as he stands above her, his hands gliding slowly over her sides, up her arms, grounding her in his touch. The image of them together, framed in the soft glow of the room, feels surreal — so intimate and vulnerable in a way that’s completely new for both of them.

Lando pauses, pulling out at her little whimper, then pressing back in, but just the tip.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, “You're so fucking wet it keeps slipping out,” adds Lando in a low tone, so turned on that it makes her clench around his head.

To her frustration, the speed at which Lando pushes back inside might as well be negative, causing her to explode with how needy she becomes in the meantime. But just as she’s about to encourage him to sink further, he buries himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

“Lan…” she says as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, “You… feel so good,” she takes a moment to breath into his skin, then she turns her head to catch their reflection once again.

Lando is already looking, and when they make eye contact through the mirror, he starts fucking her slowly and gently, as if he could break her.

“See how silly you look for thinking we won't match?” he sounds so amazed by how easily she opens up for him, over and over again, with each steady thrust of his hips, “See that? Taking all of me so well, baby.”

“Lando,” she cries out at the way his cock throbs against her walls, because she knows it's way too slow, even for him.

It's simply agonizing.

“So perfect around me,” he states, “Can't believe I lasted that long. Should've fucked you from the first night.”

At this point, he's just rambling, but the thought makes her stomach tie in a knot.

“You would've let me, wouldn't you?”

“Yes,” she speaks, already drunk on the way he feels inside her, “I would have let you fuck me in the plane bathroom, on the way to Imola. And back in your driver's room, when Oscar caught us kissing. And last week, outside the club… Fuck. I wanted you to fuck me there so bad.”

His mind goes blank with all the lost opportunities, causing him to gradually increase his pace, the sound of them connecting so obscene.

“Wh—” he almost chokes on words, “Why didn't you say anything?”

“You—stressed about work. I… I didn't want to be—distraction,” she tightens her legs around him, keeping him inside her, the words losing their meaning as Lando shifts his position, wrapping his arm around her thigh to open her up even more for him. "Like that, mhm, yes!"

“You're so tight, fuck,” he swallows hard as he squeezes roughly at her thighs. “I'm so close.”

She knows that will leave marks on her skin, but nothing beats the pleasure of having Lando fucking himself so deep inside her, that her vision starts clouding.

All common sense went out the window the moment she stepped through his door, anyway.

She can feel his breath warm against her neck, hear the soft hitch in his breathing as he leans in, his lips brushing her shoulder, never breaking eye contact with her in the mirror. Lando's hands are making their way to cup her ass, pulling out all the way, before fucking back in, all over again, until he finds the perfect rhythm between their bodies. He moans loudly, pressing his upper body on her, their scents blending together and sweat transferring from skin to skin. They move so in sync, completely attuned to each other, and the sight of their shared pleasure, reflected back at them, turns everything into fireworks, her mind completely empty. Except for how well she's being fucked.

“Lan—Lando,” she's so close to sobbing that she shuts her mouth at the sound of her voice, thinking it's too pathetic to whine as she cums around him, her release dripping all over between their bodies.

The wet sound her pussy makes gives Lando way to fuck in deeper, taken by surprise that she finished without any warnings. He grips her ass one more time before he stills inside her, his cock throbbing, and pulls out right before he starts leaking, resting his cock against her thigh, his entire length coated in her release. His cum drips from his tip to her inner thigh, making him groan while he fixes his gaze on the mirror at the image of them.

She buries her fingers in his curls after he finally collapses on top of her, their heavy breaths echoing throughout the room. With his head on her chest, he can feel her heart racing, gradually slowing down, and lets out a soft laugh as she shifts a little under him.

“We're so fucking matching, baby. Let's gooo!” exclaims Lando, exhaust evident in his voice.

She feels her cheeks warm, “I think you’re a little biased right now,” she jokes.

Lando shifts slightly so he can see her face, brushing a thumb tenderly along her side. He smiles softly, the usual spark in his eyes softened by something deeper, so gentle.

“I'm just happy.”

Her heart flutters, and she feels him sink even closer to her, threading his fingers through hers.

“And very sweaty,” she adds with a chuckle.

“I'm pretty sure that's you,” he teases, letting the moment pass slowly, then calling out her name in a serious voice.

“Mhm?” she hums while turning to look in the mirror, watching him getting comfortable on top of her.

“Where do we go from here?” asks Lando.

“Your bedroom, I hope. The floor is killing my back.”

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[entitled-fangirl]

All the time we wish for.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT just smut dude

Summary: Cregan is eager to show his wife the Northern hot springs.

A/n: Based on an ask from forever ago- I think from @princessvelaryon before we became friends but I can't remember ��😭 queen if it was you, you're a real one

Masterlist

...........................................

"Cregan, where are w-"

"-Just trust me, sweet girl. Trust me."

She eyes him, not able to stay angry at the happiness that radiates from him. "I do…" she trailed off.

"Almost there. Should be right…" his head turned back and forth in search of something. "Ah." He pulled her in the direction his eyes were set on. 

He pulls her into a cave, immediately moving to take off her cloak. She pulls away in concern at first- taking off a cloak in the dead of winter here feels like a death sentence. But his head tilted just slightly and he moved forward to do it again, to which she let him. 

The fur dropped onto the ground of the cave. She looked over her shoulder at it. 

At the sight of her neck exposed, Cregan leaned to her and nipped at the skin. 

She jumped, a breath escaping her. "Cregan, my cloak-"

"The cold won't seep into your bones here," he muttered against her neck. 

"What?"

"You're not cold, are you?" He asked.

She looked down to the goosebumps on her arms, but she knew it wasn't from the cold. 

He lips pulled into a small smile. "My father showed me my first hot spring when I was a boy of six. Warmed us when snow fell a moon before it was supposed to. I've been hunting these spots out for years now. But this one is by far my favorite."

She took in the sight, walking further into the cave. Exactly as he said, the further she moved in, the less the cold could bother her. She looked back to him, to which he waved out, encouraging her to explore it more. 

A light waterfall poured into a small pool of water, steam waving around it. 

He moved behind her, now without his own cloak. His fingers brushed against her arm. "Do you want to try it?"

"You can… get in?"

"You can. If you want."

"I do," she breathed as she stared out at the water.

Cregan's fingers moved to her dress, pulling at the laces. His scarred and calloused fingers became gentle with her, as if handling thin glass. The laces were pulled with a gentleness she didn't even feel, but she knew from the way his arms moved from her peripheral vision and the loosening of her dress. 

Eventually, she had to hold the dress up as he finished. It would have been hard to tell when he was finished if not for the sudden kisses he began to place on her shoulder. The rough pads of his fingers pushed away the material. 

She let go, letting it fall to the ground. Cregan took on the next challenge of her thin layers of underskirt, but he was quick to pull the ribbons apart. Piece by piece, her clothing fell onto the dirt covered floor of the cave, but neither really cared.

She was growing impatient, and by the time Cregan had untied the last bit of her skirt, she was all but tearing at her shift. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, the adrenaline doing nothing to help her coordination. He pushed her up against his chest, reaching his arms around to help her. 

She watched his large fingers unbutton each one at a pace too slow for her. "Cregan-"

"-We have all the time we wish for," He murmured.

She forced herself to take a small breath, though it was shaky. 

Cregan's hand ran down her stomach once he finished, admiring the woman against him. 

She whined lightly and leaned her head back against his shoulder, to which she earned a chuckle from him. His hand moved down her shift, grabbing the fabric and beginning to pull it up at an agonizingly slow pace. 

She felt the air move up her legs as the shift came up until it paused at her upper thigh. "Don't stop now."

"Should I?" He asked as his nose pressed to the side of her head, his voice in her ear. "I do love to watch you beg, my love."

"You either continue the Stark line with me in this hot spring-"

"Or what?" He asked with a smirk, pulling away from her and turning her to face him. Her shift fell back down.

Her confidence faltered for a second, then turned to teasing. "Or the line ends with you."

A low growl sounded from his throat. His eyes raked over her slowly as a new light came to his eyes. "Take it off."

She did so, dropping it quickly as Cregan focused on the strings of his doublet. 

As soon as she was bare, she moved to help Cregan but he held a hand out as his eyes took her in. He spoke, but his voice trailed off a bit as if distracted by the sight. "I've… I've got it."

She tilted her head in amusement and ran a hand down his chest, accepting his decision. She moved down to the spring, sitting at the edge, and dipped her leg in. She let out an instinctive groan at the feeling.

Cregan's lips parted as he watched her. He truly did mean to undress himself, but he was distracted. 

"Cregan," she chided at him lightly. 

He gave a heavy blink and snapped out of his daze, "Sorry, I-"

She gave him a knowing look. 

He made quick work of pulling off his doublet, yanking at the strings of the next layer until he stood in only his trousers and boots. 

He stepped down to her side, standing behind her with a hesitation.

She peered up at him from under her lashes. 

He felt the tent in his pants at the sight, one he was more familiar with than he cared to admit. It reminded him of all the nights he had returned to their chambers in a rage from planning for this war. She had always sat on that sofa with a knowing smile, asking if he was stressed. 

She had a way of taking away his stress before he even remembered how it got there. 

"Changing your mind now?" She asked him softly.

He shook his head, sitting down next to her and beginning to unlace his boots. "I'd like to believe I'm a man that follows through."

She kicked at the water lightly. "Follow through then."

Cregan's breath hitched as he looked to her. "I will."

He pulled his boots off, throwing them aside and pulling at his pants. He quickly got into the small pool, letting out a sinful groan as the warmth enveloped him. 

She watched the man with pure adoration in her eyes. The way his broad shoulders flexed as he lowered himself made her brush her thighs together. 

He turned in the water, now facing her with a broad smile. He pulled himself to her and kissed her leg lightly. He nuzzled at her knee, silently asking her to spread her legs. She hesitated, knowing his smile would only turn cocky if she did so. 

He brought a hand up, the water dripping down his wrist. His fingers brushed up her calf to her knee, pushing that leg to the side. His eyes moved slowly to her core, his eyes lighting up. 

She felt her entire body heat up as her husband admired her. Though she wanted to close her legs, she'd never felt safer. 

He kissed her leg lightly, holding her leg out to give him room. He began to kiss up her leg. 

She reached out quickly behind his head to pull his hair up before it dipped in the water. He grinned up at her and continued his movements. 

She watched in agony as his lips moved closer and closer to the very place she wanted them. When his lips ghosted over her clit, his breath brushing over it became antagonizing. She tugged at his hair in instinct, earning a playful glare of lust from the man. His light eyes had a dark intent behind them, a sin neither of them were ashamed of. 

Cregan laid a soft kiss to her slit, purposefully bumping his nose against her bundle of nerves. A small squeak sounded from her, spurring something deep inside of him. 

He stood in the pool, grabbing her hips firmly and lowering her into the water against him. She held his shoulders, relaxing in the warm water. 

He shifted her lightly, now completely wrapping his arm around her so their bodies were as close as possible, his face tucking into her neck and kissing at the skin. 

Her head fell back, her mouth opening in bliss. As she had done earlier with him, Cregan grabbed her hair, clumping it in one large hand while pulling at the roots as well. It was a mission to him to keep her hair dry, for if it didn't, she'd surely freeze once out of the cave. 

"Cregan, please."

The hand around her waist fell, moving down between her thighs. He rubbed at her slit through the water, slipping a finger in. 

She gasped. 

…

It's an unspoken fact that most Starks were created in the Northern hot springs, and there's no doubt that one was created that cold day. 

Cregan had never been more thankful for the sudden snow.

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Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Taunting

|| Sevika x fem!reader

|| Warnings; rough smut, praise kink, size kink, brat & brat tamer dynamic, swearing, fingering, choking, use of 'pet' nickname, reader receiving, slapping, hair pulling, orgasm

|| Summary; when Sevika gets home, she reminds reader who's in charge.

Requests closed!

Started; November 12th

Finished; November 12th

Anon Request; brat tamer Sevika

~~~

When your girlfriend got home, it didn't take her long to have you on the bed. You easily complied, because your defiance would come later. And she knew that just as much as you did, so Sevika took the opportunity to tease you. A wolfish grin formed on her lips as she looked down at you. You who was between her legs as she hovered over your hips, her thighs squeezing against you to keep you put. Sevika knew you were a squirmer, so she kept you still.

"What? Not gonna run, pet?" The words fell from her lips like a spit. As if Sevika were taunting you. Taunting you into being a brat for her to tame. You grinned up at her, an almost sheepish smile. You made your first act of defiance. Escaping her thighs. Your legs moved so fast, it caught Sevika off guard for a moment. You scrambled away, only making it to the edge of the bed before her strong arms wrapped around your waist. Pulling you flush against her," no, you don't." She muttered, placing you back in the spot you'd been before. Only this time she sat right on your hips. Letting all of her weight hold your much smaller frame under her. While her hands pinned yours to the bed.

Sevika's hands were so much bigger than yours, that her palm could practically fit around your entire hand. Your cheeks turned bright red as you looked at her hand against yours. God, you just wanted Sevika's finger already. But you had to play with her a little more. Wanting her to just dominate you.

You tried to squirm and Sevika simply laughed, keeping you under her with ease as she leaned down. Her lips brushing against your ear," I got you. You're not strong enough to fight me," She murmured. The feeling of her breath sending vibrations through you. A small whimper left your lips when you nodded. Showing her that you would submit, but only long enough for her to let go of you and loosen herself up a bit. The moment Sevika did, you took advantage and got behind her. Shoving her down onto the bed with as much force as you could; little did you know she let you. Finding the whole thing incredibly amusing. She laughed. Adjusting herself under you so her back was to the bed. Her hands rested on your hips. Holding you in place again, only this time on top of her.

"Now what're you gonna do?" Sevika said with a grunt. Your hands came up to her throat and she looked a little surprised when you applied pressure.

"Taking back control," You smirked and she laughed. A full shoulder shaking laugh. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, easily getting you off her neck. Biting the inside of your palm in a way that made you whimper.

"That's cute, you think you can control me?" The words practically came out as a purr when she spoke and you shrugged. Grinning from ear to ear. "C'mere." She muttered, yanking you till you were flush against her again. A gasp left your lips when she pulled you. And your defiance melted when her lips latched onto yours. A kiss so searing you were sure your lips would be swollen. If not bruised. As Sevika kissed you, her prosthetic hand came down and slapped your ass. Making your whole body flinch and shudder. Your whimper being swallowed by her. Sevika broke the kiss before you could get your tongue in, biting your lip. Her eyes looked into yours. "You gonna be a good girl? Or do I have to slap you again?"

"I dunn-" It barely left your lips before she slapped your ass again. You whined and gripped her clothes until your knuckles turned white.

"What was that?" She muttered, you nodded. Trying to tell her that you'd listen this time. Only Sevika's hand gripped your chin, bringing you impossibly closer," words, pet."

"Y-yes-" You fumbled and she smirked. Seemingly satisfied enough with your response. She tossed you back down on the bed. Hands working to get all your clothes off. It didn't take her long, she practically ripped through them, murmuring some promise about getting you new clothes later. You just melted under her, letting her take full control. Besides, even you couldn't take the teasing anymore. Your pussy may as well have been dripping. And you could still feel the stings and tingles on your ass from where Sevika's hand met. You were sure there would be marks.

"P-please..." You begged, wanting to feel her fingers inside you. Your insides clenching around nothing. You gave her the most desperate look you could muster. Sevika smirked, more than enjoying the sight of you. Begging and pleading for her..

"Now you remember your manners, huh?" Sevika muttered, laying herself down on you. Her lips brushed your cheek this time when she whispered," I think I'll leave you to squirm a little longer. You know, punishment for earlier." You could feel her smirk against your skin. You couldn't help but whine in protest, reaching out to grab her clothes again and pull her against you. Kissing her in a desperate attempt to convince her. Convince her to let you have your way. Have her fingers. She let you kiss her, starting to give in to what you wanted. After all, Sevika wanted it too.

You kissed her and her fingers suddenly thrusted into you. Starting right off the bat with two fingers that she slipped into your wet folds. With surprising ease. She started slow, but that didn't last long. The moment Sevika hooked her fingers to reach your g spot, she pumped relentlessly. Never giving you a moment. This was part of your punishment for your earlier behaviour. She broke the kiss, hand coming down to grip your throat with her prosthetic. The cold metal sending shivers down your spine. Letting out series of moans that synced with her pumps. Every time Sevika hit your g spot, your moans got louder. More breathy. More whimpers.

"God, god- fuck-" You grunted, desperate pleas leaving your lips. Needing more. Which was exactly what she gave you. Sevika watched the way your body moved, how she practically had you bouncing from how hard her fingers went into you. The way your mouth was fixed open.. unable to anything but beg and plea for more through your moans. Sevika fucking loved it. Every single minute.

"Such a good pet, aren't you?" Sevika praised, her hand moving from your throat to your hair. Brushing it aside before she gripped it tight. Careful not to get it caught between the gears of her prosthetic. Your mouth hung open while you nodded. Desperate to please her. A total contrast from your earlier behaviour. In no time at all, you were cumming against her fingers. A scream leaving your mouth as the sensation flooded your body.

"Sevika-!" You screamed her name and her expression couldn't have been any more satisfied. Sevika's fingers slid out of you when you finished, panting for breath. Your eyes locked onto hers. She brought you into a gentle kiss, cold prosthetic fingers brushing your neck softly. Over the marks she had left there earlier.

"You did so good for me," Sevika muttered and you nodded. Completely spent. God, she really knew how to tire you out.

[covenofagatha]

Two professors and a student (Part 2)

Word count: 1800

Warnings: oral sex, dirty talk, slight consensual somnophilia

When Rio wakes up the next morning, the first thing she notices is Agatha. 

Rio’s girlfriend is clearly having a good dream. Agatha is laying on her side facing Rio, long dark hair strewn around her pillow, a blissed expression on her face, and the slightest bit of undulation from her hips. Rio smirks and pushes herself up on her elbows so she can get a better look. 

And then Agatha moans ever so quietly. 

A rush of heat flows through Rio. She usually doesn’t get to see Agatha like this: so unburdened, so free, so full of pleasure. Agatha has a hard time letting go, even when she lets Rio be in control. But now, Rio chuckles to herself. 

Rio maneuvers herself so she’s practically pressed against Agatha and is content at first to just slide a thigh between Agatha’s legs. She lets out a gasp at the feeling of the wet heat now against her legs. Agatha is really worked up. She grabs her sleeping girlfriend’s hips, merely guiding her against her. 

And then Agatha breathes out a name. 

But it’s not Rio’s. 

It’s the name of their former student, you, who they had both not been able to stop thinking about since the bar last night. 

Rio had always known Agatha had a soft spot for you. A little crush, even. She could see it in the way Agatha would fondly talk about you coming by her office, the way she praised your writing and your answers in class. How she proclaimed that you seemed to be the only student that could go toe-to-toe with her. Rio had teased her mercilessly about it, and she could always tell there was a little truth to her words based on the way Agatha would flush red. 

But it wasn’t until she had you in her class this past semester that she realized she couldn’t blame Agatha in the least. 

You had always come to her class with a sort of eagerness in your eyes, the kind that was hard to come by these days. You drank in every word Rio said during lectures, coming up with the most interesting questions to ask. Of course she found you attractive, but it was your mind that had really drawn Rio in. 

Rio found herself bringing you up more and more in conversations with Agatha. It was almost like both Rio and Agatha knew what they wanted, but had to dance around the subject at first. Plus, you were still Rio’s student. 

Until last night. 

Whether it be some sort of fate, or truly just a coincidence, you had walked into the bar on the final day of the semester. 

Rio had been the one to spot you, strutting into the bar with confidence and a tight black skirt that hugged your curves just right. 

“Agatha,” Rio had said, gesturing for her to look behind her. When she had seen you (and what you were wearing), she turned back to face Rio. 

“She’s not your student anymore,” Agatha pointed out. It was the closest either of them had actually come to saying out loud what they both wanted with you. 

Rio had met Agatha’s eyes with a sort of pleading look in them, and without another word, Agatha got up and joined you at the bar. 

And now, Agatha is grinding down on Rio’s thigh as your name falls out of her mouth quietly. 

It’s not enough for Rio, though. 

Rio untangles her leg from Agatha’s and gently turns the older woman so she’s laying on her back now. Rio throws back the sheets and moves down between her thighs. She spreads them open, hikes up the purple sheet her girlfriend was sleeping in, and almost moans at how she’s soaked through her underwear. 

Agatha is a mess. 

Rio doesn’t even take the time to peel her underwear off, she just slides it to the side and runs her tongue up Agatha’s slit. 

Agatha’s hips buck against Rio’s face and Rio digs her nails into Agatha’s thighs to hold her still. 

She experimentally dips her tongue inside and then glides it up to swirl at her clit. 

Agatha’s moans continue to grow louder as Rio picks up her pace and intensity. Rio has completely lost herself in the taste of Agatha’s pussy so she startles a little when a hand grabs onto her head. 

Rio doesn’t stop but flicks her eyes up to find Agatha’s dark eyes locked on her. 

“Rio,” she pants, fist tightening in her hair. 

Rio smirks against her cunt, gives her one last hard lick, and then climbs up so she can kiss Agatha. It starts out heated and Agatha’s hands come up to clasp Rio’s cheeks to pull her in even deeper if possible. 

“Have a good dream?” Rio asks playfully once they break apart. She’s not sure she’s ever seen Agatha turn this red before. “You were saying some interesting things.” 

Agatha groans and covers her face with her hands, thoroughly embarrassed. Rio laughs and tugs at her wrists.

“Want to tell me what you were dreaming about? Maybe a certain former student of ours?” 

“Don’t be mad,” Agatha says meekly. 

“I’m not, baby. I want you to tell me about it,” Rio promises and moves back down the bed so she’s back between Agatha’s legs. She’s practically dripping on the sheets now. “And if you stop talking, I’ll stop too.” 

Agatha’s mouth falls open in a silent moan as Rio drags her tongue slowly through her folds. Now that she’s awake, she can revel even more in the feel of Rio’s hot mouth. 

But Rio pulls away too soon. “Start talking,” she demands, looking up at Agatha expectantly. 

Agatha swallows hard and weaves her fingers into Rio’s hair preemptively. “We invited her over for dinner,” she begins, words coming out brokenly as Rio goes back to eating her out. “She came wearing this black dress, it looked so delicious on her. You poured her a glass of wine but accidentally spilled it over her so she had to take it off.” 

Rio moans involuntarily at the thought and Agatha jumps at the vibration against her. 

“She kissed you and then me. Then watched us kiss each other.” She’s sounding more breathless, and Rio’s not sure if it’s more because of her devouring her cunt, or the memory of the dream. “We brought her up to the bedroom and laid her down. She touched herself while we kissed some more. It was so hot, baby.” 

Rio can’t help from moaning again, right into Agatha’s pussy. The visual is now ingrained in her brain and it’s affecting her more than she’d like to admit. “Keep going.”

“She was laying against my front and I played with her nipples as you ate her out. I left marks on her neck and you devoured her like you’re doing to me now. The stimulation was so much and she came over your face so quickly,” Agatha keens, hips grinding faster against Rio’s tongue. 

Rio can feel that her girlfriend is close and she slips a hand between her own legs to relieve some of the pressure. She whimpers at the wetness that meets her. Hearing Agatha talk about the three of you like this has really done a number on her. 

“Fuck, Rio,” Agatha breathes. 

“Don’t stop talking,” Rio warns, barely moving her mouth off Agatha’s cunt. 

“You sat on her face and she made you feel so good,” Agatha practically sobs, clenching around Rio’s tongue, nails digging into her head. Rio picks up her pace, jaw starting to ache but she doesn’t dream of stopping. Agatha is so close. “And then I fucked her with the strap, just watching you ride her pretty little mouth. She took it so well. She was so good for us. You soaked her face and she came all over my cock.” 

And that picture with a hard suck to her clit is all Agatha needs to teeter over the edge and cum with a loud moan. Rio’s not sure she’s ever seen the other woman this turned on, or this vocal. And she loves it. 

Rio licks her through the aftershocks while she moves her own fingers against herself and follows suit quickly, groaning into Agatha’s cunt. It’s too much for Agatha, who weakly tugs Rio away from her. 

Rio chuckles as she flops down next to Agatha and leans in to kiss her. “Wow,” she says. 

“Should we text her?” Agatha asks, desperation leaking into her voice despite her trying to remain casual. 

Rio smirks and rolls over to grab her phone. 

***

You’re drenched in sweat when you get back to your dorm after your morning run. The only thing on your mind is taking a shower when your phone buzzes. 

You tap the screen and see a text from an unknown number. Your heart pounds fast as you quickly go wash your hands. 

Hey, y/n, it’s Rio. Agatha and I were wondering if you’d like to get dinner with us this week. 

You had barely heard a word your friends had said last night because you were so focused on the two professors. You still can’t get the way they were staring at you out of your mind. It was like they wanted to devour you. You hadn’t missed their longing glances as they walked out of the bar after a few hours either. 

But they were together, and you were much younger. They probably just wanted to make sure you were being safe. 

But then there was the way Agatha had touched your back at the bar. Her thumb stroking against you, never pulling away until she had to. The pet names she never used before. The innuendos from Rio about you aiming to please them and you being a ‘pretty young thing.’ The admission that they talked about you a lot. 

Did they both want you?

God, you hope so, because you want them both too. 

I’d love to! I’m free all week so let me know when would work best for you. 

Heat starts coursing through your veins as you watch the bubbles pop up immediately. Even just the thought of seeing them is enough for a dull ache to grow between your legs. 

How does Tuesday night sound? We know this great place. And then maybe we can have a nightcap at our place? 

It’s like all the air is punched out of your lungs. A nightcap? At their place? Is she hinting at something for real or just being playful? You force yourself to take three deep breaths to calm down and think of a response that won’t relay just how desperate for them you are. 

It’s a date. Seems like you can walk that fine line too. You are more than a little turned on now.

You throw your phone on your bed and go take a shower, hoping to get clean in more ways than one. 

[inkedinshadows]

Under the Summer Sun

Pairing: Azriel x Summer Court!reader

Summary: Azriel's mate takes him on a little vacation in the Summer Court, where she introduces him to a shocking tradition of her home court.

Warnings: none

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: I have one thing to say about this one, and it's that I had no idea where I was going when I started writing. I had a general idea, and that was it. Everything else came to me thanks to little sleep, lot of coffee, too many classes, and missing summer. This fic is really silly and I have no idea how it became this long tbh

@azrielappreciationweek

Azriel had been to the Summer Court many times, but never on vacation. He had gone on missions, of course, and to check in with his informants stationed there. Then there was that one time with his family, which had resulted in a wrecked building and Cassian's consequent ban. The last time he'd been here, it was to defend Adriata against Hybern.

And now, he was here with you. Somehow, you had managed to convince him to take a whole week off. Maybe it had something to do with you batting your long lashes at him, knowing he could never say no when you looked so cute. Or perhaps it was because you had already talked to Rhys, who had agreed that his brother needed some time to relax.

Either way, Azriel was glad you had convinced him. You were staying in your family's vacation house in a little town south of Adriata. The first day was spent in bed, cuddling and making love, getting up only to eat—as you had done years ago after accepting the mating bond. On the second day, you showed him the town and the places where you had grown up. But today would be a surprise. You had refused to tell him exactly what you'd be doing, claiming only that it was a common custom in the Summer Court.

“Are you ready, my love?”

Your voice came from behind the bathroom door, and Azriel glanced at his reflection in the mirror one last time. His half-naked self stared back. You had given him a simple piece of clothing to put on, and you’d been very clear about wearing only that.

Azriel was confused.

It looked like underwear, but it was too long, reaching his mid-thigh, and it was a bit looser around his legs. The deep blue fabric was unusual—soft yet a bit thicker than his regular underwear, and elastic. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he didn’t understand why you wanted him to wear such a thing. It wasn’t alluring or anything like that. At least, he didn’t think it was.

With a sigh, he opened the door. “Sweetheart, I’m not sure—”

His words died on his tongue as his eyes settled on you. Standing in the center of the bedroom, you were wearing a new set of lingerie he had never seen before. The fabric seemed similar to the one he was wearing, but yours was a shade of cerulean blue that complemented your dark skin. It hugged your curves perfectly, tight enough to cover yet revealing in all the right ways.

“So?” you asked with a smile, spinning around so he could see you even better. “What do you think?”

Azriel closed the distance between you in two long strides, and his hands immediately found your exposed waist.

“You're breathtaking, my love,” he murmured, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. He could never get enough of you—your smooth skin, your soft body, your scent. And whenever you surprised him with something like this, his head felt as if it were spinning.

“I'm glad you like it.” You looked down at your body, brushing your fingertips over the hem of your bra. Azriel wanted to kiss the spot where the fabric met your skin. “It's been years since I last got to wear one of these.”

He had to suppress his rising desire to focus on your words. He frowned at the hint of melancholy that laced your tone. “What do you mean? You can wear it whenever you want.” His fingers pressed slightly into your flesh as he leaned down to whisper directly in your ear. “You look ravishing, sweetheart.”

He felt your body react to his words and touch as it always did—relaxing in his hold, leaning imperceptibly closer. But there was a playful smile on your lips when you asked, “What do you think this is, Az?”

Azriel's frown deepened. “New underwear?”

You hummed, amusement glinting in your eyes. But instead of answering, you slipped out of his grasp. “Let me take a good look at you.”

He grew more confused by the second. You studied him, eyes focused on what looked more like short pants than boxers. Yet there was no hint of desire on your face. Your gaze didn't roam over his body with that intensity that made heat bloom in his lower stomach. You didn't bite your bottom lip, didn't reach out to touch the bare muscles of his chest, and your breath didn't catch as it always did when you wanted him.

“You look so handsome,” you said eventually. Your gaze finally met his, and your amused smile widened at his confusion. “We can go now.”

Azriel blinked, but you were already heading for the door, grabbing a bag from the floor on your way out.

He immediately trailed after you, following you downstairs. His shadows swarmed around him, flying over to tangle in the ends of your hair as if trying to coax an answer out of you. But even they couldn't read minds, and you didn't offer an explanation.

“Go where?” he questioned, watching you put your slippers on. What did you even need shoes for?

“The beach,” you answered, as if it were obvious.

Azriel just stared at you. He was waiting for a punchline or a joke, because surely you couldn't be serious. But when you arched a brow, that smirk still playing on your lips, he realized you weren't joking.

“What do you mean?” he asked then.

“This is not underwear, Az,” you finally explained in an amused tone. “They're swimsuits. Mine's called a bikini, and yours are swim trunks.” You lifted the bag in your hand as if to prove your point. “I have beach towels. We're going to the beach.”

He gaped at you. “You really mean to tell me you want to go outside wearing…” He glanced down at himself, then at you. “Just this?” he finished.

“That's exactly what I'm telling you.” You shrugged, as if the thought of walking around with just a scrap of clothing didn't bother you at all.

“There's no way you're going out dressed like that,” he said firmly. “You're basically naked.”

“I'm not naked!” You sounded outraged, but he could see you were trying not to laugh. “I'm wearing a bikini.”

Azriel crossed his arms. He had never once told you what you could or couldn't wear, and he didn't want to start now. But a revealing dress or a plunging neckline were different from… this. The thought of everyone seeing you with nothing more than two small pieces of fabric made his jaw clench.

“How is it any different from going out wearing underwear?” he pressed.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, falling silent for a moment. “I don't know,” you mumbled. “It's just socially acceptable here to go to the beach like this.”

He thought he was getting through to you, that he just needed to push a bit more and then you'd see how inappropriate it was. Instead, you stood straighter again and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.

“Come on, Az,” you said, your voice low and inviting. “It'll be fun. I've done this a thousand times already. I promise you, it's totally normal here.”

Azriel knew what you were doing. You thought that if you used that tone, if you batted your lashes and looked at him with your big doe eyes, he would cave. Normally, he would. He could hardly say no to you. But he couldn't stand the thought of someone else seeing his mate clad only in underwear. Bikini. Whatever it was called.

“Y/N, that's not the point. I—”

Before he could finish, your lips curled into a mischievous smirk, and you suddenly turned and bolted out the front door before he could catch you.

Cursing under his breath, Azriel quickly slipped on his shoes and followed you outside, not caring about his own underdressed state.

You hadn't gone far, not with those slippers that made running nearly impossible. He caught up to you just as you turned the corner, his hand grabbing your arm, his shadows swirling around both of you to hide your indecent state.

You stopped in your tracks and pointed to the beach just at the end of the short street. “Look,” you said simply.

Azriel did, and his eyes widened at what was probably one of the most shocking sights he'd ever seen.

There weren't many people, but you were right. Everyone—males and females, High Fae or lesser faeries, even the few children—was wearing the so-called swimsuits. And no one paid anyone else a second glance. Everyone minded their own business, either lying on towels or swimming. Some of the children were playing in the sand.

His shadows dimmed under the sunlight, halting their swirling around your bodies and disappearing completely soon after.

“Is it really that normal here?” he asked, a hint of surprise still in his voice. His gaze slowly returned to you.

“This is the Summer Court, Az,” you replied with a chuckle. “What kind of people would we be if we didn't enjoy our sea in this heat?” You took his hand, giving it a gentle tug to make him follow as you began walking again. “Come on. You're a big Illyrian. Don't tell me you're shy.”

Despite his lingering shock, Azriel couldn't help the smile spreading across his face. “It's not that.”

He had never had a problem with nakedness. He'd seen plenty over the centuries, enough not to be bothered by it. It was the idea of willingly wearing nothing more than underwear—and he wouldn't let you convince him that it was anything other than that—and going out in public. More specifically, it was the idea of his beautiful mate going out in public like that. It was a sight usually reserved just for him, and he didn't want to share it with anyone.

“Fine.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “If someone looks at me the wrong way, you can bash his teeth out. Is that better?”

He knew you were joking, but the fact that you were aware of his concern and the way you dismissed it so lightheartedly actually helped him relax.

“It is, yes,” he confirmed, only half-joking. He wouldn't actually do it unless it was an extreme situation, and he knew you could hold your own without his help, but still. He couldn't suppress the protective—and possessive, if he was being honest—streak that was only emphasized by your bond.

“See, this is why I didn't tell you what we'd be doing today,” you teased. You had reached the beach now, and you led him to an empty spot away from the others before letting go of his hand. “Because you wouldn't have agreed.”

Azriel couldn't deny that you were right. It would have taken a lot of convincing and persuasion to get him to agree to this.

Or maybe just your smile.

You took off your slippers and buried your bare feet in the white sand, wiggling your toes through the grains. You breathed in the scent of sea and salt in the air, your eyes closed. And the soft, fond smile that graced your lips as you reconnected with your homeland court made him fall in love with you all over again. It was a smile he’d do anything to see, and Azriel made a mental note to bring you to the Summer Court more often.

He followed your lead and slipped off his shoes. The sand was warm under his soles, and the morning sun heated his tanned skin. He even spread his wings a little, basking in the sensation.

“So, what do we do now?” he asked after a moment.

Your eyes opened, and you crouched down to open the bag you’d dropped on the ground. “Now we set the towels down,” you answered, pulling one out and handing it to him. “It’s probably too small for you, but I don’t have a beach towel for overgrown bats, so…”

Azriel shook his head, used to your endless teasing. You chuckled softly, and after you both placed your towels on the sand—his was, indeed, too small—you took his hand again, walking backward toward the shore and pulling him along.

“Now we go swimming,” you declared, then paused, a small frown creasing your brow. “You do know how to swim, right?”

It was Azriel’s turn to chuckle. “Of course I can swim, sweetheart. I just don’t remember the last time I had to.”

“Well, then,” you said with a smile, rising on your toes to kiss him, “let’s go make some memories.”

Without waiting for a response, you ran into the ocean with a delighted squeal and dove in, water splashing around you. Azriel didn’t move immediately, and simply watched as you emerged, eyes bright and smile wide.

You were the picture of joy.

The last time he had seen you this happy was probably at your mating ceremony, when you had appeared in that stunning teal and gold dress, looking like a vision. And now, as you stood in the water, Azriel was suddenly grateful you had brought him here. Droplets trickled down your body, your brown skin glistening in the sunlight as you moved your wet hair out of your face.

You beckoned him with a hand, and his feet moved of their own accord, guiding him toward you. He inhaled sharply as the cold water reached his thighs, sloshing around his wings. He didn't know how you could look so at ease when he was shivering, but you were in your element after all, while he was completely out of his.

“Aw,” you cooed as he reached you. “Is my little bat cold?”

Azriel grimaced, his tone playful as he pulled you closer. “First you call me an overgrown bat, and now I’m a little one?”

Your wet body pressed against his still-dry chest, and your hair dripped water onto his tattooed skin as you looked up at him. “Well, yes,” you confirmed, stating it as if it were an obvious fact. “Illyrians are overgrown bats, but you’re my little bat.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know I’m a head taller than you, right? I’m not little.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then you closed it without saying a word. Azriel could see the wheels turning in your head as you stepped away from him, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

“What is it?” he asked, knowing that expression all too well. “What did you just think?”

“There's this thing my father always did when I was a child,” you explained. “I loved it, and now I want you to do it too.”

After all the crazy ideas you'd hit him with over the years—this beach day being the latest—Azriel wasn't sure he wanted to know what you were talking about now, but he still lifted a brow. “And said thing is…?”

Your smile widened. “Throw me in the water.”

Azriel frowned. He must have heard that wrong. “What?”

But you nodded enthusiastically, grabbing his hands and placing them on your hips. “Pick me up and throw me in the water. You're strong enough to do it, c'mon.”

His fingers tightened on your hips, but he still wasn't convinced. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you love me and I asked nicely?” you tried, batting your lashes at him.

Azriel chuckled. “I do love you, but you did not ask nicely.” He pulled you closer, his fingers brushing the hem of your panties. Gods, it still felt like underwear to him, and all he wanted was to take them off. “You ordered me to do it.”

You laughed with him. “Sorry about that.” Pulling him down, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Love of my life, my mate, my everything, will you please be so kind as to use your beautiful, strong muscles to pick me up and throw me in the water? It's fun, and I’d really appreciate it.”

He knew you were teasing, but his heartbeat quickened with every word of flattery, even after all these years. “You are unbelievable,” he mumbled, stealing another kiss.

Though he still didn't understand how it could be fun, and wasn’t sure if he even liked the idea, his hands slid up to your waist. He lifted you effortlessly, water cascading off your body as he hoisted you out of the ocean. He hesitated for a moment, but when he saw your excited smile, he threw you back into the water, expecting you to twist midair and gracefully dive in. You had the agility and flexibility for it. He knew you could do it.

But you didn’t.

You let yourself plummet straight into the ocean, your laughter swallowed by the water as you plunged in, splashing it all around. The water was so clear he could see you sink for a moment before you kicked your legs and emerged, grinning from ear to ear.

Azriel stopped questioning whether it was fun or not. It didn't matter if it was childish and silly. After all, he still had snowball fights with his brothers.

All that mattered was the joy written on your face, and as he made his way over to you, he found himself wishing he had a place like this—somewhere he cherished returning to, a place filled with memories of a happy childhood.

“You probably think I'm crazy,” you said as you treaded water. He could still touch the seabed here, but it was now too deep for you.

“A little,” he admitted with a smile. “But as long as it makes you happy, love.”

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer as his hands found their way back to your hips. Pressing your body against his, you rubbed the tip of your nose against his. “There’s something else that would make me happy right now,” you murmured, gazing into his eyes.

Azriel’s smile widened as he leaned in for a kiss, but before he knew it, you had pulled him under the surface. He had adjusted to the water’s temperature by now, but the sudden, full submersion still made him shiver. His first instinct was to break the surface and take a deep breath—something he would have done already if only you had told him what you were planning. Before he could, though, you used your magic to create a bubble of oxygen around the two of you, allowing him to breathe.

“So drowning your mate is what makes you happy?” he asked skeptically.

“Sorry about that,” you chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief. “But the surprise on your face was priceless.”

Azriel lifted a brow, readjusting his wings. It had been so long since the last time he was underwater that it took a moment to remember how to position them properly, preventing himself from floating back up.

You laughed, your hair swirling around you like a shimmering, silver crown inside the bubble.

“No, but it was fun,” you answered. You cupped his face, kicking your feet to swim just a little closer to him. “What would really make me happy is something I’ve always wanted to do, but I need to let the bubble disappear. I promise I’ll summon it again as soon as we’re done.”

Azriel frowned slightly, but he had an idea of what you wanted to do. He could only hope he was right, because he had a feeling you wouldn’t explain it if he asked.

He nodded, and with that, you called back your magic. Water rushed around you again, but this time he inhaled deeply before it was too late. And then you proved his suspicions correct.

You pulled him in for a kiss, and he tasted the salty water on your lips. His hands settled gently on the sides of your neck, keeping you close. As you both kicked your legs to stay submerged, Azriel understood why you wanted to do this. It felt intimate, like you were the only two beings in the entire ocean.

It reminded him of the way kissing you felt when he was flying with you cradled in his arms—the world faded away, shrinking until nothing existed but the two of you.

It lasted only a few seconds, but when you parted, both of you were smiling. As promised, you summoned another bubble as soon as your lips left his.

“That was nice,” he murmured, his voice soft.

“Good, because we’ll definitely do it again.” You stole another quick kiss before pointing toward the endless expanse of the ocean. “I want to go swimming. Do you want to come or would you rather head back to the beach?”

Azriel shook his head. “No, I want to come with you.”

“Perfect.” Your smile widened, and you gestured for him to follow as you turned around. “Then I want to show you the reef.”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he tucked his wings in tightly, kicking his legs to keep up with you. Never in his long life had he imagined that he’d one day find himself swimming in the Summer Court, wearing little more than a piece of underwear. But life with you was always full of surprises, and he had no doubt this wouldn’t be the last.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[bbokicidal]

"What Happens When..." | [SKZ] OT8 | [Changbin]

Changbin allows the others to see just what you can do with your mouth.

Genre: Smut [18+ MDNI] Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader Warnings: Oral sex, deep throating, one of the others kissing you after you give Changbin head, the members helping you go down on Changbin, Chris,, jerks it,,

Notes: This IS a short fic and isn't anything really long. There's no plot - it's purely smut for your viewing pleasure and my mental peace, lol.

Word Count: 906

Divider by @enchanthings

"I've never seen someone so eager before."

"She's always excited to have my cock in her throat. Acts like it's some type of dessert or something." Changbin couldn't help his slightly cocky nature at the mention of you being eager to please. Though the comment was made a bit late; You were already taking him into your throat, tongue lathing over the underside as if he were a special lollipop just for you to have.

Hyunjin chuckles from where he sits off to the side in one of their lounge chairs, legs crossed to hide his excitement while he watched. His fingertips prodded at where they touched his cheek, head tipped into his hand and eyes dark as they followed every movement. He'd been completely enamored with the sight of his roommate getting sucked off - a little too much, almost. He let his free hand ghost down his thigh, almost as if teasing himself while refusing to touch anywhere near the tent forming in his pants. "I was talking about you."

A soft hushing sound comes from somewhere else. Jisung had shushed Hyunjin's peeping, eyes wide and body leaned forward as if it would give him a better view. The poor man had never looked so pink in his life, and maybe it was just because he was finally seeing one of his favorite hyungs get worshipped the way Jisung always knew he deserved. Or maybe he wanted to join.. -

His hand laid on Seungmin's knee beside him, who was lounged back on the sofa and trying hard to hold in any laughter that escaped his throat. With one hand previously palming himself through his shorts, it laid still now in his lap as he lets his eyes travel to Jisung beside him. While he was now far less horny than he had been thirty seconds ago, he thought the sight of Jisung so wide-eyed and ogling your form was a bit silly; But truly, he understood why he was so.. infatuated.

The swell of your throat seemed to catch all of their eyes; The way Changbin's cock bulged beneath your skin, proving that the silly small-cock-binnie rumors were just that - rumors.

"Fuck.."

Felix's eyes travel to the man sitting beside him. Perched on the floor and leaning back against the couch just near Seungmin's legs was Chris, veiny hand plastered over his mouth as the other had settled long ago in his lap. The rapid movements of his fist jerking back and forth seemed to give away what he was doing under the fabric of his shorts, even if he'd pulled his legs up to his chest and tried to hide the motion. His eyes darted to Felix who had already looked away, a bit shameful in being caught getting off to Changbin filling your throat.

But Felix was less.. shy. He'd even crawled closer from his previous spot on the floor, kneeling beside you and blushing hard at the sound of your lewd noises up close. He could hear the way Changbin's cock made you gag, spit dripping from your lips and eyes teary as you peered up at your boyfriend. With a hand wrapping into your hair, Felix pushed forward gently and nearly gasped at the sight of your throat filling further.

"Give me a moment, baby." Changbin breathes out so suddenly, gently pressing your shoulder back to pull you off of him. You sit back, willing and happy to oblige, and Jeongin can't help but notice how puffy your lips are. Swollen, wet, dripping.

He's happy to crouch down from where he'd been standing nearby, one hand guiding your head to look at him in your daze. With glazed eyes and parted lips, your head tips so willingly to the youngest that he understands in one fluid moment just why Changbin was so adoring towards you. You were so happy to please; So obedient. "You're doing wonderful," he whispers under his breath, leaning in and letting his lips press to yours. It's brief, shy almost, but he's sure to let his tongue travel over your lower lip and gather the spit that dripped - taking it into his own mouth; Greedy.

Letting his hand fall from your face and allowing you to sit up properly, looking back to your boyfriend, you're met with the sight of not one but two men peering down at you. Changbin's all cheeky smiles, plump cheeks squishing with dimples and even a little giggle as he watches your eyes dart back and forth between the two curiously.

Minho looked.. all too good hovering above you; Just a tad taller than Changbin, eyes dark and hungry, hair falling in his face and head tipped down almost condescendingly without any words needed. His hands remained tucked in his sweats, the watch secured around his wrist displaying a line that seemed to pulse multiple times each second; Letting him (and everyone around him) know that his heart rate was skyrocketing just by you staring up at him on your knees.

Changbin wrings his hands out in front of his chest, his demeanor becoming a bit bashful as he prepared himself to ask. He'd known Minho was lurking there most of the time - watching, in awe at the sight of your lips around his cock - and just how well you seemed to take him for how much of a rod he's got attached to his hips.

"Think you can take two, baby?"

Tag List : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie @inlovewithstraykids @seungminsbest @edit-me-prettyplease @butterflydemons @satosugu4l

[illbegottenfaith]

2001 - theo nott x reader

Honey, what you runnin' from? When you comin' back to bed? Toss and turnin' all night long with me instead Honey, what you runnin' from? Where the hell you headed to? Do you like the way I run after you?

or, theo doesn’t understand what’s holding you back from taking things further

a/n - I think I would classify this soft core smut at best? But adding an 18+ tag jic

tropes/warnings - 18+ MDNI, fluff

word count - 1.6k

“Fucking hell. Hide me.”

You shrunk yourself down the best that you could behind your best friend, Ivy, laser-focused on the boy at the other end of the hallway. Ivy rolled her eyes, making no effort to help.

“I can’t believe you still won’t tell me what happened that night. It can’t have been that bad.”

“It was,” you muttered, stupidly trying to get Ivy to cooperate. It was no easy task, especially on days like today when she was feeling particularly stubborn, which was a problem since the boy looked fully intent on approaching them.

“Will you relax? You look like an idiot. Like an even bigger idiot than usual. He probably doesn’t even remember whatever-“

“Ivy. Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party.”

Damn. You thought you had more time. Curse him and his unfairly long legs. Ivy did the grown-up thing, which was literally anything other than pretending she didn’t see him. “It’s alright, Theo. You can make it up to me next year.”

“How was it?”

“It was nice, actually. We got a discount on -“

Ivy was cut off by a gentle tug, revealing a hunched-over you. You straightened hastily, clearing your throat, refusing to meet his gaze.

“L/N.”

“Nott.”

“Planning on dropping by tonight?”

You put on a straight face, looking politely confused. “Hm?”

“The party. Tonight.”

“Oh. Where?”

Theo narrowed his eyes, and your face burned under the intensity of his gaze. It took everything you had to keep your features schooled while he shamelessly searched your face for what felt like far too long.

“The Slytherin common room,” he replied, finally tearing his eyes away from you. You relaxed, blinking hard and a little breathless, your palms a little clammy. “Can’t miss it. Just follow the stench of firewhiskey and bad ideas.”

Internally, you nearly passed out. Externally, you shrugged noncommittally. “Sure. Maybe.” Definitely not. You weren’t going to spend a second longer in Theo’s presence if you could help it. 

You and Ivy get to the party and, as expected, you’re abandoned the second she finds Ivan through the crowd. You wander around before you decide to join a group of Slytherins on the couches, next to Theo. You get handed a drink. It burns your throat and makes your eyes water. The loud bass starts to sound more tolerable. Another drink. Theo’s frowning at you. You wonder if anyone’s told him how good concern looks on his face. Everything is now ten times funnier. You press up against Theo, laughing yourself silly, leaning into his touch as he drapes an arm around you. Another drink. You’re more than lightly flushed. Theo places a hand on your thigh. You don’t move it away. 

Eventually, you end up pressed against the door of Theo’s room, your mouths a heady mess of heat, teeth and tongues, your bodies moulding to each other’s. Your eyes flutter shut, blissfully able to let go with your senses dulled by alcohol. You can’t tell if it’s the music or your pulse vibrating through your body, but you’re aching for his touch. He presses a knee against your core and you groan into his mouth, melting into a boneless mush in his arms.

“Theodore,” you sighed desperately, breath catching in your throat. It was enough to slow his ministrations on your neck which had been filling your head with the most delicious kind of static. You never used his first name despite your best friends being glued by the lips since sixth year, mostly because you never went beyond exchanging civil pleasantries. Occasionally, you’d have a chat that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, or you’d let your thoughts wander to his disarming blue eyes or wicked smile, but that was it. It never did, and it never could, go any further than that. You were too different. It would never work. You’d only be setting yourself up for heartbreak. Nothing good could come of entangling with the illustrious Theodore Nott, figuratively or otherwise.

And to use his first name was to acknowledge the existence of this softer, kinder Theo - a version worlds away from that Nott boy with the aloof face and the piercing eyes. He hummed against your neck, thumbs restlessly skimming the waistband of your skirt.

“We can’t - we shouldn’t,” you continued, once you were able to make sense of your fuzzy thoughts. You pushed him back gently, cool air rushing in to douse the heat of the moment. “Our friends have a whole thing. We’d only get in the way. It’s just a bad idea.”

His hands stilled on your hips. “I don’t understand. What about our thing?”

He looked so dazed and so adorably dishevelled that you almost felt sorry for him. It was late, Theo’s words sounded dangerously close to slurring, and if you were being honest, you should have left the party hours ago. You stroked his cheek absentmindedly before gingerly slipping out of his hold, recovering your shirt. You slipped it on, fumbling at rhe buttons with trembling fingers, and turned back to see Theo still watching you, uncomprehending, his swollen lips parted in confusion.

“Get some sleep, Nott. You’ll get what I mean in the morning.”

“Bye, Theo,” Ivy was saying now. “Give Ivan a kiss for me.”

“Should I feel him up while I’m at it?”

“It only seems right to give him the full experience.”

Ivy grinned as he walked off while you all but dragged her down the hall towards your next class.

“Aw, come on, Y/N, he’s not that bad.” She glanced at you, eyes twinkling with mirth. “You know, I always thought he has a thing for y-“

“Aren’t you late for Herbology?”

Ivy cursed as she fumbled at her wristwatch, hurrying down the corridor. In about a minute, she’d realise that she didn’t have Herbology today, but you decided to let her find that out herself.

Hours later, you were holed up in the library, desperately trying to plug your ears with all the ruckus going on floors below. Trying to focus was a losing battle.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Your head snapped up too see Theo leaning against one of the bookshelves. Busted. To be fair, she was nowhere near the world’s best liar, so it was doubtful whether he had even believed her in the first place.

“Nott,” you greeted, in a pleasant enough voice. “Is that the time? I hadn’t realised the party had already started.”

The music continued blasting, more than audible to the two of them. Theo arched an eyebrow, slowly walking over, and you had the decency to look embarrassed over your bald-faced lie.

“I was planning to drop by later.”

“Well, you should.”

“Maybe I will:”

“It’s almost as fun as that last party ages ago.”

You stiffened at the memory. “Ah. Yes.”

Theo leaned over you, broad-shouldered and hypnotising. He dragged his gaze across you inch by agonising inch, undressing you with his eyes. You were starting to feel uncomfortably warm in your uniform. He dropped his voice.

“First and last time I see you in my bed, hmm?”

You choked, failing to suppress the shiver prickling over your skin. “That’s - stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Talking like…that.” You felt your face heat up all over again, cursing yourself for your inability to even pretend to keep your cool in front of him. “Looking at me like that.”

His gaze flickered to your chest, so brief you’d have missed it if you blinked. “Like what?” 

You let out a frustrated, overwhelmed sigh, your brain becoming oddly fixated on the memory of his hands on your hips, travelling up your ribcage, at the nape of your neck, grip tightening on your waist -

“Go on. Use your words.”

His breath tickled the shell of your ear, the closest he’d been to you since that night. 

“Like…like you actually want me. Like I’m something special.”

“You are something special.”

You groaned and looked away. “I’m seeing someone,” you tried, half-heartedly. Theo snorted.

“What, that Davies guy? Yeah, like that’s going to last.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to feel all that indignant on Davies’ behalf. Not that you were going to let Theo know that. “I’ll have you know that Mac is a perfect gentleman.”

“My point is-“ Theo started, irritatedly. You took a perverse sort of pleasure in ruffling his feathers. “- why the fuck are we talking about Davies when you could be in my bed, doing far more interesting things with that mouth?”

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely. Perhaps you like having me run after you. Is that where you get off, hmm? The thrill of the chase? Being a tease?”

“I am not a -“ you began hotly, before you caught the mischievous twinkle in his eye. You rolled your eyes. “You’re too cocky for your own good,” you muttered. 

“I thought you like me cocky,” he teased. His expression softened the next second and you watched him trace lazy circles on your wrist.

“Besides…I’ve never tried this hard to get into someone’s pants.”

You gave a shaky laugh. Theo bent down once more, this time to press a kiss to your lips, then another, and another, until you were lying on your back on the table, looking sinfully ravished, blouse long forgotten.

One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

[baronessvonglitter]

would you ever consider writing a deeper romantic relationship for the lovely couple from Daddy can fix it??💖 it’s sooo good

I hope you didn’t think I forgot about you 💕 I was so pleased to receive your ask. From one hopeless romantic to another, I hope you enjoy!

Daddy Does Drilling

Handyman! Joel x fem!plus size!Reader

Word count: 1.3K

Summary: what happens when you and Joel blur the line between business and pleasure..

I invite everyone to also read "Daddy Can Fix It" 🩵

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears apron and dress. Reader's age not mentioned so there is as much or as little of an age gap as you want. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped). Oral (f receiving). Sarah and Ellie are mentioned but not named. Divorced Dad!Joel 🤭Slowly falling in love and not realizing it until it's too late. Mention of reader wanting a divorce from her husband. Also catty book club bitches.

"You're crazy, y'know that?" Joel whispers in your ear, his harsh whisper tickling your skin as he guides you up and down on his cock.

You grab the back of the sofa, nails digging into the soft upholstery as he plunges into your soaking wet pussy. "I had to do it," you giggle through your panting. "I couldn't stand my idiot husband doing all the work that you do better."

That earns you a slap on the ass, Joel's large hand giving it a firm grip after. "You're an insatiable lil' thing," he growls in your ear. "'Bout to wear me out."

You smirk up at the patched-up drywall, perfectly smoothed over by Joel's industrious and talented hands. Hands that are now grabbing your curves and molding your body to his. "Can you blame me? I'll never get enough of this cock!" Your sentence ends on a loud moan as he holds your hips steady and thrusts up into you hard and deep so you feel the steady brush of him up close to your cervix.

"Come on sweet thing, ya came twice already, you ready for a third?" Joel rasps in your ear. "Got my lap all fuckin' wet with this juicy pussy."

The moment he'd finished up with the wall you'd pounced on him, crushed your lips and your hips to his, delighted to find him already hard and ready. In the shortest amount of time ever, you both had shoved off and pulled aside whatever clothes were unnecessary and fucked right there on the sofa.

He's working you to your third orgasm, spoiling you, actually, holding back from his own pleasure because it's too much fun giving you yours, watching the beautiful expression on your face, the way your body shakes and trembles.

"There she is," he whispers as your sugar walls convulse around him, rhythmically squeezing his rigid cock, and that's when he lets himself explode, your pussy milking him for every drop he's got.

He's at your house every week, then twice a week, three times a week, until he's just there to fuck you and make you scream his name. No fixing of anything required.

Neither of you notices when things take a turn towards the soft, the sweet. He spends hours between your thighs, tasting and teasing you until you come multiple times, not just trying to get you off but trying to know you. Your time together is marked not by the quick, productive thrusts in positions you haven't tried since college, but in the lingering kisses and knowing stares, the confessions that spill from your lips, the honesty that is born of such intimacy as you've shared.

You find out that he's divorced, has two grown daughters, one married and the other away at university. He loves to work with his hands, that he has a natural knack for figuring out a solution to every problem, and persists until said problem is fixed. That's how he started his company.. and one day the ladies just started coming onto him.

Being older and single, he didn't let those chances pass him. The women he helped were lonely like himself, and if he could give them a bit of something to keep them happy even for a moment, he was glad to do it. It became a well-known secret among the housewives of the community of Royal Hill that he would provide good service at a decent price and give you the fucking of a lifetime if you asked politely.

He liked women, found their husbands to be idiots, more often than not. White collar limp dicks who think a G-spot is street slang for money. Some of them he got to know well: Amirah with the flawless umber skin and always smelled of jasmine; Isabelle who tip-tapped around her tiled home in impossibly high heels with ostentatious feathers on the straps and wore hardly anything under her sheer hot pink robe, also bedecked in feathers; Becky who was quite demanding and rude but submissive once she had a dick inside her.

Then came you. And you threw him for a loop.

You were more than you appeared: sweet, shy, pretty. Once he got you in bed you were a goddess, and the amazing thing was you already knew you were. You gave without asking anything in return.. but how could he ever deny you his strong hands, eager mouth, throbbing cock?

No one else had struck this feeling within him, no matter how many lonely housewives he visited, no matter how hard or rough or passionately he'd fucked any of them, they were just fun. Side quests, as his gamer brother would say.

He liked getting to know you, finding out who was the woman underneath the apron and the rosebud-patterned dress. You told him secrets no one else knew, and he found himself doing the same. You would call each other just to talk, to hear each other's voices when you couldn't be close.

What you didn't know was the impact it would have on the other housewives.

"He doesn't even come over himself anymore. His brother Tommy came by to fix the sink instead."

"Don't get me wrong.. Tommy's cute, but I wanted Joel."

"Daddy Joel."

You ignore the little group that's once again near the dessert table. You grab a couple of cucumber sandwiches and a chocolate-dipped madeleine, oblivious to their prattle.

"I don't know," Becky says pointedly. "His truck has been seen outside a certain someone's house a few days a week." She stops you before you can go back to your seat. "With the amount of time Joel's been at your home, you ought to have the most restored, revamped, upgraded home on the block," she says, brimming over with restrained attitude.

"What's going on?" she asks under her breath.

You can see the others are waiting for you to answer her, but for the first time ever you feel absolutely no need to appease them. You need to win them over like you need a hole in your head. "I don't know what you're talking about," you tell them, lying with ease.

"It's not nice to take up all his time," Becky says with an icy tone, staring you down as if looks could kill.

"Becky, is it just me, or are you jealous over a man you have to pay to fuck you?"

The others are stunned. No one has ever put Bitchy Becky in her place before. Not even she knows what to say.

"I think I'm done with this book club. I can read on my own at my house.. waiting on Daddy to fix whatever I need him to." With an angelic smile you drop the plate of treats back onto the table as you leave.

Walking out into the late afternoon sun you feel more free than you ever have before, as if a whole new chapter has started. The short walk to your house is pleasant, even more so when you see Joel's work truck in your driveway.

"Thought I missed ya," he says, his hands in his pockets as he walks from your front door.

"Fridays are for the book club," you explain, heart racing as you come close to him, and his arms go naturally around your waist. "But I quit. Can't really stand those snobby bitches."

You inhale the clean cotton scent of his red flannel, nuzzling your nose in his shoulder as he kisses the side of your head. "I don't want to do anything ever again that doesn't make me happy."

"So, lil' thing, what's gonna make ya happy right now?" he asks, a small grin playing across his lips.

Looking up at him, you realize Joel is the best choice you could have made. "I think I'm going to leave my husband. No.. I'm definitely going to leave my husband. But there's something else I want right now.."

"Good idea." His arms tighten slightly around you, as if to tether you to him. "And what would that be?"

"I want you to come inside.. you've got some drilling to do," you lead him by the hand and into your home.

dividers by @saradika 👑

[clubsmarties]

—

"You'd have three very angry people at your door," he laughed even though he knew it would be true. Isa, Inez and Emma would truly dislike anyone who he didn't get on with. "I wouldn't set you up for failure. I'm offended," his dramatic gesture made his hand fall on his forehead like she had truly hurt him. "But, it would require a lot of trust on your part."

"Waffle shaped into Mickey Mouse ears. I am on expert on that and since working at the diner I feel like I've conquered breakfast foods. So, I've got breakfast covered for you." Truly if it wasn't for Emma he wouldn't really have stepped into the kitchen. He was grateful they did send him more than poptarts in their care packages.

He smiled like she had just amused him. "I think being stuck here with you is not too shabby of a life. You've made Texas a little less insufferable." Eli shrugged and smirked. "If you're there when I clock in, I'll make you the freshly made batch."

He let out an audible gasp as his chest breathed heavily, eyes following her every move. She had a captivating way to hold his attention. As her fingers moved to remove his hoodie off her body, he felt the gravity of this moment. He trailed his eyes up slowly as he drank her in and took in that silent nod. His hands cupped her face and continued to kiss her? This time taking her down so that half of his weight laid on his elbows. One hand roamed down her side to her hip, the touch was deliberate as his mouth moved against hers in an unspoken word of I'm yours.

The other that framed her face stayed at her haw for a second before it moved to the dip between her breasts. Familiarizing himself with the soft skin, the way they were so uniquely Laurel. He brushed her hair aside, letting his breath dance across her skin, his leg slipped between her thighs a second later.

His lips trailed from her mouth, across her cheek, to her neck and had his tongue sweep across the spot he knew noticed her whole body tingle in arousal. He grinned against her skin, enjoying the fact that he found key points. He groaned into the crook of her neck at the skin to skin contact. He kissed down her neck to her clavicle, dragging his tongue along the bone, before dipping down to the valley between her breasts. Eli was deeply aware to make sure she was ready the last thing he wanted was to hurt her.

For that matter he traveled his mouth down her neck, teeth biting into her collarbone wanting to see the bruises blooming after he lapped his tongue around to soothe it.

—

"So, breaking your heart is off the table then," she pondered out loud, though her grin was in plain view. "I'm kidding. I wouldn't dream of causing you any harm," she said sincerely. Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do. After all the kindness he had shown her, Laurel would hate herself if she ever did hurt him. "Dancing with no other details, sounds like I'm setting myself up for failure, but okay. Deal," and with that, she took his hand to momentarily shake on it.

"Now, you're definitely feeding my ego," an amused shake of her head followed. "Yup! That's the best part, the cheese pull. Conquering chicken noodle soup, you make anything sound like a huge feat. I love it. What's in your cooking repertoire then?"

"Fair, airports are rough. People are meaner I think, probably rubs off on them from TSA. That, and you're just nicer than most people." Laurel was too amused by the final destination, her home state. So, maybe that invisible string was working overtime. "No way! Bay Area, you might've crossed paths with my friends if you did. But, good choice though. It is definitely chilly out there, and heavy fog too. But nope, you're stuck here with me now," she joked, still holding his hand. "It sounds disappointing, yuck. You have the key now though, with the machine. Making the perfect cup, maybe I'll try that next time I stop by the diner."

Laurel's quiet laugh trembled against her lips before he pulled on her bottom lip, the sensation sending a flare of warmth down her spine. Third option won then. There might've been some thought about this being too soon, not the right time, but she was not concerned about that in the slightest. She was full of bliss and her eagerness was only growing with each passing second. Her smile grew with the small peck, and she leaned in closer to him as he sat in front of her. Already enticed by his touch, she had to inch closer until distance became a foreign concept.

The warmth of his hand against her skin made her hum happily, and now Laurel was glad that she had forfeited wearing her blouse under the hoodie. It was new, to hear the soft sounds coming from him, but once wasn't enough. No. It made her feel a sense of pride, knowing she elicited them from him. She wanted to hear more, touch every bit, and learn every trace of him. There was no hurry to do so either, and she was thoroughly enjoying that they were going slow, as if taking the time to remember every moment that passed. Tentatively, her hand reached for the edge of his blue sweater, hand resting against his side as she knelt in front of him to better position herself. No words, just her hazel eyes looking into his, silently confirming that this was okay. That he wanted this too, before she moved to pull the sweater off her. Her boldest action thus far, but she did say she'd try anything once. Gently dropping the sweater to the side, she leaned into his lips once more. He had said it'd be cold in his room, but with the warmth pooling in her chest? Well, cold was the last thing she felt.

[b3ach-bunn7]

JAPANESE DENIM PT 2

The three days you spend in the castle before you wedding with Prince Satoru

Royal!AU, fluff, JJK

——————————————————————————

Your new temporary bedroom is so unlived in it makes you uncomfortable. You sleep on sheets that are too stiff and a blanket too big and woollen that heats you up impossibly every night. You’re to stay here for the three nights until your wedding, where you’ll then be sharing a room with your husband. You are not to see each other until then, some silly tradition you find yourself somewhat reluctant to follow. 

Your new lady in waiting, Nobara, tells you about the castle, the people, who runs the gossip mill. You feel overwhelmed as she takes you on a tour of the castle. You admire the large gardens, the extravagant rooms and corridors that look like experts from the fantasy books you spend your nights reading. The maids in the kitchen and the soldiers around the halls all bow to you, and you smile, skin prickling at all the attention.

Nobara, you realise quickly, is loud and talkative. You don’t think it’s necessarily normal for a lady in waiting to be so full of energy, but she’s young, and the casual way she talks to you is a welcome thing. She feels more like a friend as she chats to you about her two knight friends, the two boys you’d seen at the ball. She’s far enough in age to you that you feel a little sisterly to her.

You thank the setting of the sun, tired of greeting and meeting so many new people. You’re about to get in bed. You’re wearing a too short and too sheer nightgown, lacy pink material that fluffs up around your legs. It twirls as you move, and you like the feeling of the material on your skin. It cuts right at your mid thigh, and it feels like a lot to wear to bed. But Nobara had left it on your bed, and you felt too bad to say anything about it, considering her excitement at your new wardrobe. You pull back the covers of your bed, thick and warm, and are just about to step in.

And then somebody knocks on your door.

Once, and then twice, and then they just keep knocking until you get up, flinging the door open. You assume it’s Nobara, because who else would be so brave to knock on your door like that, and so late at night. 

Satoru. That’s who. 

“What- Satoru, what are you doing, we are not supposed to see each other until the wedding!” You splutter, pulling him into your room before anyone else sees him.

He doesn’t speak though. You look at him confused and wave a hand in his face.

“Hello?” 

But it’s like he’s somewhere else. And it’s then, when a particularly strong breeze comes in from your open window, that you remember what you’re wearing, and you finally notice the red that dusts Satoru’s cheeks and your eyes widen.

“Oh my- Look away!” You hiss, rushing to your bed to grab a sheet to cover yourself.

Satoru turns quickly. “I’m sorry, I assumed you would be decent when I knocked!”

“Knocked? You practically broke my door down. What is it you want?” You huff, now covered.

“Well, I wanted-“

“You can turn around now.”

He does. He pouts a little at your new outfit.

“Shame. I liked your little nightgown.” 

“You have about five seconds before I call someone to escort you out of here.”

“Alright, alright.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I just want to talk.” Satoru says.

You frown slightly. “Talk about what?”

He drops his hands and gestures at your bed. “Can you sit? And calm down? I can feel how tense you are from here.”

You let your shoulders fall. You suppose nobody will walk into your room. And he’s the prince, after all. Not much can be done to punish him. 

So you relent, and listen. He sits himself on your bed as well, shamelessly crossing his long legs, completely ignoring how inappropriate even being in the same room as you, let alone bed, is. You don’t protest as much as you should, only bring your covers up to hide the expanse of your legs your short nightdress reveals. His eyes dart down at the movement and he smiles.

“Why are you here, Satoru?” You ask.

“You see, the benefit to you not knowing who I was yesterday is that you spilled your pretty little heart out to me.”

Your nose wrinkles. “I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

“But it is. You are scared because you know nothing about me, and you are scared I’m a hideous troll. That is what you said to me yesterday. And now, we can at least check one of those off the list.”

He leans forward just that bit closer, forearms resting on his knees. White eyelashes flutter as blinks innocently. “Am I hideous, Y/N?”

God, you wish he was. That might make keeping a safe distance from him easier. But when he looks at you like this, like he wants you in a way no man ever has, you have to look away.

“No. I suppose not.”

He smirks. “I’ll take it.” 

Satoru sits back a bit and you remember how to breathe.

“So. What else would you like to know about me?”

“You snuck into my room so that we can do trivia on Satoru Gojo?” 

“The best kind. Come on, ask me something and I’ll ask you the same back.”

You sigh, relenting, ignoring how cute he looks when he cheers quietly.

“Okay. If you could have any superpower what would you pick?”

Satoru barks a laugh. “Y/N, I meant questions to get to know me. Like, my favourite colour or something.”

“This is getting to know you! Respond, if you don’t mind.”

“That- Okay. Fine. I’d have… Telekinesis.” 

You wrinkle your nose and he furrows his brows at your reaction. “What?”

“Nothing.” You say.

“Well, it is clearly something. Is my answer not good enough for you?”

You giggle. “No, it is perfectly fine! Just surprised me. I thought you’d say something like. Super strength.”

He tilts his head. “And why’s that?” 

“Most men do. Something about power and their over inflated egos.”

His mouth gaped. “My ego is perfectly inflated, thank you very much.” You just grin, shrugging.

And the two of you sit like that, for entirely too long. The questions are all innocent to begin with. Your favourite colour, your favourite food. What you hate most about the balls you always attend. And then, little by little, you get closer. Not just physically, because his hand is now toying with the edge of your duvet, but you feel like you know him more. It’s not by a lot, but. It’s better than before.

“What are you most scared of? About our marriage?” Satoru’s voice is soft as he speaks. The light of your candle flickers across his face, and you wonder how long you can keep him here like this, the flame lighting his eyes up perfectly.

“Losing my freedom.” 

You don’t feel scared to say the words like you’re sure you’d feel around any other man. It’s no secret that as a woman, your life stops being about you once you’re wed, and more about how you can serve your husband, your future kids. 

“What do you mean?”

You smile bitterly. You didn’t expect him to know, but it still stings a little that he doesn’t.

“I knew I’d never get to rule my kingdom. It will most likely be any sons I have, never me. But. I could still do what I could, help my father however he’d let me. Now, though. I am too far from home to be of any help. And I do not have a role in this land, and I respect that.”

You look down at your sheets. Your fingers trail along the embroidered designs idly.

“It is just difficult to come to terms with the fact that it is now officially over. That all I am is a wife, a mother.” 

Satoru sighs heavily. His fingers reach forward and intertwine with yours. 

“You are not just a wife to me, and you never will be. If you wish to have some authority, some duty, I will make that happen. If not now, then when I am king.”

You look up at him. And his face is deathly serious, in a way you’ve not really seen on him before. He looks at you earnestly and you feel your throat tighten.

“You would do that for me?” You don’t need to say how unspoken such an attitude is.

“I would do anything for you, Y/N.”

After that, the topics get much lighter. Satoru’s fingers stay clasping yours and you let them. The night grows later and the candle on your bedside table burns smaller and smaller. It’s when it gets this late, that you’re yawning and blinking at him lazily, Satoru’s tongue gets looser, and his questions curb something dangerous.

“So. Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“Satoru!”

“What?”

You shake your head. “That’s hardly appropriate.”

“And why not? You’re to be my wife soon, no? Can’t we talk about such topics?” 

You can feel the heat on your face and you know he can see it. You roll your eyes. “Okay. Fine.” 

You adjust your position, lifting up the sleeve of your nightdress where it was slipping. “I have. Once.”

And the expression on his face twists .immediately into what you think is jealousy. 

“You’ve what?”

You laugh slightly. “I’ve kissed one boy.”

He frowns. “Who?”

“Aw. Are you jealous?” You grin.

“Well, yes. Of course I am! Your first kiss is supposed to be with me.” 

“It is not that big of a deal, Satoru. He was nobody important, and I do not even remember his name. And I was young, too. Thirteen, I believe.”

He grumbles, and you laugh at the pout on his face. “Cheer up, Prince. It is not like you have never kissed anyone before.”

The tips of his ears redden and it suddenly makes sense why he’s so bothered. You coo and he scoffs, waving you off. 

“Enough.”

“Aw, it’s okay, Satoru. Does this mean I’ll be your first kiss?”

“Yes. And some random boy will be yours.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

“Don’t pout. You’ll be my first in- In other things.” You say.

And how quickly his pout disappears and is replaced with a smirk, one that threatens something with the way he looks at you. He moves closer to you.

“You can say the word you know.” 

“I know.”

He smiles. “Say it then.”

You scoff. “No. I- No.”

His smirk darkens and he leans closer. “You scared?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No.” 

“Are you excited?” 

“I- Satoru. I don’t-“

“I am.” 

The admission comes easily as if it means nothing. His words fluster you and you laugh nervously. He just watches you, hands slowly sliding out your lap to rest on your thigh. It’s over the duvet, but still, the promise behind them has you swallowing roughly.

“You looked beautiful last night. In that dress. You look beautiful right now.” 

His hand reaches up, moving the sleeve that has slipped down your shoulder again back up. His fingers smooth over the soft silk and you let it. He’s touched you before, grabbed your hands and toyed with them, but this feels so different. There’s a tension in the room you cannot quite place. You can’t judge the way Satoru’s eyes dip down to your lips because you know you’re doing the same thing.

“I know I have to be patient. And I will be.” His voice has dropped an octave lower, something husky and dangerous.

“But you are making it very difficult for me. Dressed like that. Looking how you do.” 

“It’s just a nightgown, Satoru.” Your words come out more desperate than you intend.

“Hm. What I saw when I walked in leaves little to the imagination.” 

You laugh slightly, nervous and excited. “I’m excited, too. Just scared as well.”

His eyes frown before his lips do. “Don’t be. I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”

Something coils in your stomach and you shift your legs. “I- I think it is time you leave. I am tired, and it is late.” 

He nods, understanding. His hand drops from your shoulder and he smiles.

“I will see you tomorrow.”

You snort a laugh. “You really should not. It is against the rules.”

“You will learn I am not one for following them.”

The next day Satoru does not come creeping into your room because you see him during the day. You and Nobara are walking in the courtyard, the sun setting over your skin, when you hear yells and then a loud thud. You turn a corner, past the large detailed stone walls and see Satoru, clutching his sides and laughing at two boys on the floor. They’re all stood on what you think is a makeshift battleground, and your memory tells you that this is the practise grounds Nobara had mentioned yesterday. While the two boys look familiar, you pay them no mind as you can’t stop staring at Satoru. He’s got a sword in his hand and he’s wearing a white button up with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, and his hair sticks to his forehead, sweat glistening on his skin. 

“Aw, look at the future bride ogling her husband.” Nobara coos.

You tut. “Enough of that. I was simply looking. At all three of them.”

“Whatever you say, princess. It’s about time you met them. Let us go.” 

She bounds forward and the boys perk up at the sight of her. They wrap her in a hug and she groans, trying to shove them off. She finally breaks free, dusting off her dress.

“You two reek, get off me.” She sniffs, turning her head.

Satoru notices you standing to the side, and he immediately runs up to greet you. He beams as you focus your attention to him.

“Afternoon, princess.”

“Afternoon, prince.”

He grins. He rubs his brow with the back of his hand. “So. What brings you here?”

You nod your head towards Nobara. “She was taking me on a walk and we ended up here.” You watch the three of them talking, a small smile gracing your lips. “They’re sweet.”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “What they are is lazy. Haven’t been training hard enough.” 

Satoru speaks loud enough that the two boys hear and start scowling, immediately stopping their animated conversation with Nobara to argue.

“No fair! You’re so hard on us, Sensei.” The pink haired boy pouts.

Your eyebrows raise at the name. “Sensei? You teach these boys?” You ask.

Satoru nods, and you can see the pride on his face he’s trying to hide. “I’m the best in this kingdom! Only makes sense I teach our future, no?”

The sound of your voice seems to alert the two boys of your presence. They quickly straighten out, bowing. It’s been two days of this and you still have no idea how to react.

“Your majesty! It’s lovely to meet you.” One of them, the one you’ve learnt is called Yuji, grins.

“Please, call me Y/N. And it’s lovely to meet you both!” You reply.

“Well, Y/N, are you going to marry-“

“Do not actually call her by her name, you fool. It’s disrespectful.” The other one, Megumi, scoffs, shoving Yujis shoulder.

“She just told me to!”

“No, Megumi is right, it is disrespectful. She’s  just weird like that.” Nobara chimes in.

Yuji gasps. “You can’t call a princess weird!”

“It is quite alright. I've done it before.”

Yuji shakes his head in shame. “I hope she hangs you for your attitude.”

Megumi snorts a laugh. “About time somebody did.”

Satoru rolls his eyes as they start bickering. He pulls you to the side, hand curling easily around your elbow. He gives you and the dress Nobara had picked and excitedly told you was worth more than she got paid in a month a once over.

“You look gorgeous this morning.” He says, hand still lingering on your arm.

You smile. “Thank you. As do you.”

“Really?”

You nod. “The dishevelled look is doing you wonders.”

He barks a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m in dire need of a shower. Training them takes it out of me.”

You look back at the boys. “Can I see?”

Satoru pauses for a moment, hand still trying to fix his mussed hair. His sword is still in his other hand, and you watch with keen interest as his fingers tighten around the hilt. 

“You want to see me fight?” He questions.

You fluster a bit at the way he’s looking at you, the knowing tease in his eyes. “Yes. I want to see if my future husband is adept.”

“I’m much more than adept.”

“Then there should be no issue.”

He sighs, his grin back with more fevour. “I love your attitude, do you know that?”

“That is why you are marrying me, no?” 

He laughs. “Okay, enough. Now watch.”

Satoru walks towards the boys. You laugh at the disgruntled expression on their face when he ushers them to the centre of the field. Yuji passes Megumi his fallen sword and you gesture Nobara to come stand with you. She walks over, looking slightly lost.

“They told me they were done training for today.”

“Yes, I think this is my fault. I want to see him in action.”

Nobara looks at your knowingly. “Sure.”

“Hush now. Look.”

Satoru gives them a second before he goes at them. It’s like art, watching Satoru move. The two boys are good, you can tell with how easily they swing their swords, the practised way they dodge attacks. But Satoru, he is a marvel. You watch as the lines of muscles in his arm ripple as he brings his sword down, the amount of strength behind each hit rattling the metal. You know he’s just showing off for you, but you don’t care. He fights off the two of them easily, barely breaking a sweat as he slides and dodges their hits. He even has the nerve to send you a cheeky wink and you smile despite yourself.

The match ends quickly, the two knights swords on the floor once Satoru easily unarms them. You clap excitedly and he bows. The two boys grumble to themselves, dusting dirt off their tunics once more.

“You’re supposed to go easy on us.” Yujii huffs, retrieving their swords from the floor.

“How will you learn if I go easy on you?” Satoru puts his hands on his hips and catches his breath.

Megumi rolls his eyes. “You’re just trying to impress the princess.”

Satoru softens slightly at Megumi, and he practically coos at him. “Aww, don’t be sad, Megumi! You did a great job.” 

Megumi just rolls his eyes again. The two boys bid you goodbye, and you tell Nobara to go with them.

“Alright. I will come meet you in your room once you are finished speaking to the prince.” She curtsies quickly before rushing off to catch up with the others.

You turn to Satoru to find him already looking at you. The sword is back in the scabbard on his waist, and he crosses his arms. His biceps look even bigger under his shirt as he does so and you avert your gaze before he notices your staring.

“So. How was I?”

“You were amazing! I know your ego is quite big already, but. I suppose it’s justified. You were quite incredible, fighting like that.”

Satoru grins something proud and satisfied, ignoring your little dig at his ego. He steps forward slightly and he smells like sweat and the outdoors. 

“I am glad I could impress you so, princess.” He says.

“How long have you been fighting for?”

Satoru thinks for a moment. “Since I was very young. My father taught me, and I trained as hard as I could until I was the best around.” 

“That is quite admirable. It’s obvious with how easily you can move around.”

Satoru nods. “I like teaching the young ones. I-“ Satoru pauses slightly. His face turns to something a little more vulnerable, and he doesn’t make much eye contact with you when he continues.

“My father is a good man, but. His teachings were not the greatest. I hated fighting and training and the idea of it all. It is better now, of course. I just do not want the younger generation to go through what I did.”

You know you shouldn’t, but your hand reaches forward and grabs his. He looks back at you and you give him a smile.

“You are a good man, Satoru. And it is doing wonders for those kids, believe me. I can see from only speaking to them once.”

Satoru softens slightly. He sighs, like a little weight has been relieved from his shoulders.

“I am not sure what I did to deserve you.”

“Something good, I imagine.”

If Satoru’s last day before the wedding has been anything like yours, hectic and so busy, you’re sure he had no time to do so.

The day is spent drifting from room to room. You pick out a bouquet of flowers from too many options. You stand as straight as possible and suck in as much as you can so that they can stuff you in a corset and dress that you’re scared to even move it. It’s layers of soft, white fabric, shining gems sewn into the neckline and all down the front. It shimmers as it catches onto the light form the big open windows. You smooth your hand over the soft material. Nobara stands to the side, and while she keeps silent in the presence of the tailor and other maids, you can see the excitement on her face. 

When you catch sight of yourself in the mirror on the other end of the room you pause. You look older. Maybe it's the white, or maybe it's the fact you’ll be a Gojo in hours, but something feels different. You aren’t sure how you feel. You try not to think about it too much because you can't decipher what's excitement and what's fear.

Your tailor, Nanako, smiles at you. “Nervous?”

You nod slightly as her assistant, Mimiko, adjusts your bodice. “Yes. A little.”

“You have nothing to worry about. Of all the princes I’ve made suits for, Prince Satoru is the nicest.” Nanako says. She kneels down to fix the trail of your dress.

“Really?” Mimiko nods.

“Mhm. He’s very nice. And he is very attractive, too.”

“Mimiko! That is her husband.”

“I am just being reassuring!”

The best part of your day is definitely the time you spend in the kitchens. The smell hits you the second you walk in, and the different foods are all spread out across the tables for you to try. There's duck and chicken and lamb, desserts like tarts and cheesecakes all waiting for you to try.  You smile for the first time all day. The head chef, a man with pink hair oddly similar to Yuji, looks at you from across the table. The room is large, stoves and ovens lining the walls. You glance to your left and see the room you assume is full of food. The kitchen is surprisingly empty other than the man, and he bows when you and Nobara fully walk in.

“Princess. We’ve arranged a series of hors d'oeuvres, mains and desserts for you to try. The cake has already been chosen by the prince, and we’ve left a sample for you there.” He gestures to the slice of cake and you beam.

“Thank you. My name is Y/N. And yours?”

He raises a brow at your introduction. “Sukuna.”

“It is nice to meet you.” Sukuna smirks slightly at your cheery attitude. He gestures to the chair in front of you and Nobara pulls it out for you and you sit.

“And you.” He says.

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Nobara stands besides you.

“So. Where shall we start?”

“You can begin with the hors d'oeuvres.”

As you try the food, he explains each dish, where all the ingredients are sourced. Sukuna lights up slightly when he begins talking, and you can tell he cares about what he does. Nobara told you on the way over that he was the best chef in the kingdom, and the taste of the food tells you as much. 

“This is amazing! And you made all these recipes yourself?”

He nods, standing a bit taller. “I have help, of course, but these were all made by me and my sous chefs. The rest of the workers will be available on the wedding night to make sure everything gets out on time.”

“I love it all. You are very talented, Sukuna.”

He bows his head. “Thank you, Princess.”

You gesture Nobara to come try some of your food. “Come, help me decide between these two.”

You spend the next few minutes getting through the food. You chat with Sukuna, and he tells you that Yujii is his brother, his younger one at that. Sukuna used to be a knight too, but after a bad fight his leg was injured too badly for him to fight again. But, his loyalty to the royal family was not forgotten, which is why after discovering he could actually cook very well, he’d become their Chef.

“Do you miss fighting?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Of course. It’s exhilarating stuff, but. It cannot be helped. I enjoy cooking and I’m good at it. Not much to complain about.”

You nod. 

“That makes sense. I- Ow!” You wince as something sharp scratches your gums.

“Is everything okay, Princess?” Nobara asks, turning to you quickly.

“Yeah, I just- There’s.” 

You turn your head quickly, and try to pull out whatever is in your mouth as dignified as you can. When your hand comes up, the three of you all look at the piece of crab shell in your hand.

“What the hell is that?” Sukuna furrows his brow.

“Hey! Watch your language.” Nobara chides.

Sukuna doesn’t listen. He reaches forward and grabs it out of your hand. He looks pissed. Before you can even say anything he’s storming off into that room in the back. You and Nobara both peer inside.

“Where is he going?” You ask.

Nobara shrugs. “I’m not sure. He looks angry, though.”

“I know. I am a little-“

“What the fuck is this!” Sukuna suddenly yells.

You both jump at his voice. You both lean over and peer through the door to see him yelling at two men you assume are his sous chefs. They hold their heads down and Nobara giggles next to you.

“They look like their teacher’s telling them off.” She whispers.

You wave your hand at her. “Shh, I want to hear.”

He holds up the small piece of shell in their faces. “Look! The Princess could have choked on this, and then what? We’d all be hanged because you dumbasses didn’t check the crab properly.

“I thought-”

Sukuna holds up a hand and it’s enough to silence the one who tries to speak.

“There’s no excuse for it.” Sukuna shakes his head. “You, you. Fuck off! Get out my face.”

The two men walk out and you and Nobara quickly straighten up as Sukuna comes back into the room. He bows deeply. You elbow Nobara as she stifles a laugh.

“I am deeply sorry, Princess. Please excuse my sous chefs, they will be properly dealt with later.”

You do not want to know what that means. You laugh slightly, gesturing for him to stand. “Please, do not worry, it was only an accident.”

“An accident they shouldn’t have happened.” He sighs.

You smile. “It’s okay, I am sure it will be remedied for tomorrow night.”

Sukuna just looks at you. He studies you for a moment.

“I’ve catered quite a few meetings between the Prince and his potential wives. I am quite glad he picked you. Most of the others were insufferable.”

You snort a laugh before covering your mouth, face flushing in embarrassment. “Apologies. That was not very ladylike of me.”

Sukuna smirks slightly. “Your secret is safe with me.”’

The day ends quicker than you think. You find yourself sitting in your room, trying to fool yourself into thinking you’re not up waiting for Satoru. That and the fact that you think the nerves are going to eat you alive.

You perk up slightly at the quick knock at your door. You get up, this time wearing a robe to cover yourself, and usher Satoru in.

“Aw. No nightgown today?”

You smack the side of his shoulder and he grins. “I missed you.”

“It has only been a day, Satoru.”

“A day too long.”

You both sit on your bed. You look out your window, at the bright moon in the sky and the expanse of the garden you can see from where you’re sitting. You feel Satoru’s hand clasp yours and you look at him. His brows are pinched with worry, and it’s weird seeing his lips turned down in a small frown.

“Are you alright?”

You breathe in deeply. “Do I not seem alright?”

“You look tired. A little troubled.” Satoru inches a little closer.

“Hm. It has been a long day.”

He sighs. “Tell me about it. You’ve been preparing for the wedding too?”

You nod. “I feel bad complaining. I have people waiting on me hand and foot, but. It is a lot.”

“You are allowed to be tired, you know.”

Satoru is looking at you so tenderly. It’s weird, you know it is, how much you feel for him in such little time. You’ve known him for four days only. Spoke to him on four separate occasions and yet you can’t help but be excited that you’ll be spending the rest of your life with him.

Of all the suitors your parents had entertained, he was by far the most attractive, but also the kindest. He seemed like a good person from what you’d seen and you knew that he’d make a good King when the time came. He had good money, good people. Your lady in waiting, the chefs, his family. You were lucky. Luckier than a lot of girls like you.

And you still felt like you deserved none of it.

There was a princess out there made for this sort of life. Not you. Sometimes you think you would’ve been better as a peasant.

Satoru’s fingers stroke over your hand. “Tell me what is wrong.”

His voice is so careful and caring that you feel tears threaten behind your eyelids. You sigh shakily.

“I just. It’s a lot. It’s so much. Sometimes I feel like it should not be me. That there is someone more deserving of this.”

Satoru’s frown deepens. “Do not say that.”

“But it is how I feel. I- I am trying to ignore it, but I am so nervous.”

Satoru moves closer to you. He smells fresh, like he’s just showered, and you notice some curls in his hair are still damp. 

“You think I do not feel the same? That I’m not scared I won’t be a good husband?”

It’s your turn to be confused. “What? Why would you think that?”

“Why would I not? It’s my job to protect you. Keep you safe. Make sure you’re happy, make sure everything is perfect for you. And I know how adverse you are to this all. Which makes me even more scared.” 

Your heart pangs with guilt at the look on his face. He looks so worried. You grasp his hand properly.

“No. No, I am not. Not anymore. Now that it’s you.”

His lips part like he wants to say something. But he doesn’t. Just looks at you.

“You- You changed my mind. I do not know how, and I do not know why so quickly but. That is not why I am scared.”

You turn away. Your words feel too vulnerable to say right to his face. 

“I want to be good for you, Satoru. I want to be a good wife. You deserve it. And I am frightened I cannot give it to you.”

Fingers curve under you chin. They turn your head so that your facing him, and the worry is replaced with something so lovely you want to look away again.

“It’s okay. We are supposed to be scared. I’d be more worried if you were not.”

You laugh wetly, and he swipes under your eyes at the tears that fall. 

“Don’t cry, princess.” He whispers.

“You are too kind. I can’t help it.”

“Would you like me to be mean?” 

You hum thoughtfully. “Maybe save that for after the wedding.”

The tips of his ears redden and his grip on your face tightens slightly.

“God, the flilth that comes out of that mouth.” He scolds, but you know it holds no mirth.

His hand drops from your face into your lap. You wonder how shocked your mother would be if she saw you two sitting this close before marriage.

“How do you even manage to sneak in here every night?”

Satoru grins. “My valet is very kind. Very susceptible to persuasion.”

You giggle. “I could say the same for Nobara. She hasn’t said a word.”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “You and I both know that girl is running to Yujii and Megumi every night. Would explain their giggling during training.”

You brain trails back to the two of them before, when Satoru was training them. Even then you remember the slight fondness he held for Megumi.

“Megumi. He is your favourite, correct?” 

Satoru winces, rubbing a hand on his head. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only slightly. I have a good eye.”

He sighs, nodding. He moves himself until he’s sitting beside you, and not in front. His shoulder is warm as it hits yours and you both lean against your headrest.

“Yes. I’ve known him since he was a child. His father was killed in a battle, and so I’ve took to checking up on him and his sister all their lives. Once he was old enough he joined the forces.”

As if he couldn’t get any better.

“That’s so kind. He seems like a good boy.”

Satoru hums in agreement. “He is. They both are, really.” 

Satoru stretches. His sleep pants stretch over muscled thighs and you look away quickly. 

“I met your tailors. And your chef.”

“Oh, Sukuna? He is very good at what he does.”

“Mhm. One of his sous chefs made a mistake and he tore into them. It was very funny.”

Satoru snorts. “He’s passionate. It is what makes his cooking so much better.”

You sigh. The darkness from outside tells you it’s late, and the way your eyes droop shut are tell enough that your tried. Satoru is telling you a story about something, and you’re too tired to pay enough attention. You let your eyes shut and you lean on his shoulder.

“You falling asleep on me?” Satoru mumbles.

“Mhm. No. Keep talking. M’listening.”

He chuckles. “Alright. Good night, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Satoru.”

————————————————-—————————

I had a vision of Gordon Ramsey x Sukuna and that vision had to be realised

I acc have nooooo idea how to write a wedding part 😅 but thsi was so super fun to write! I love royal aus even tho I’m sure these ar won’t factually accurate

I hope u enjoyed!

[skele-bunny]

Thinking about Aether and Dew baby...

This follows Calida's timeline!

CW - Pregnancy, Mentions of past Traumatic Pregnancy (but this is a fluff post!)

It's been a good few years, now. Calida now a rambunctious teenager, the ministry settled down while there's no tours for a good while. It's comfortable! The topic comes up one night, Dew settled in the bed with Aether on their day off together;

"Firefly?"

"Hm?"

"Promise you won't bite me if I ask something?" An eyebrow raise but Dew promises. "How would you feel about another baby?"

"Another?" Dewdrop sits up a little, resting more on the headboard as he grimaces some. "I dunno, Aeth... Calida's was rough as is. I had her early, and all the complications, and just the mental side of it? I'm not sure... Why?"

"Just been thinking, that's all. Maybe something in the air, all the babies I've been helping deliver with the siblings. I dunno either. Just thought, maybe, it would be nice to have tiny feet running through the den again."

Dewdrop just chews his lip and nods, eventually going into silence before going to the bathroom suddenly. Closes the door and stares at himself in the mirror for a bit, so many thoughts racing. He doesn't realize how long it's been until Aether knocks to check on him, Dew opening the door and looking up, holding his breath.

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Let's have another. But on my conditions."

"What- Oh, okay! What's your conditions?" Aether can't help his tail wagging.

"We're gonna go talk to my therapist and double, triple, fucking quad check that this isn't just a breeding thing for you... A-and I only want you, or Phil, or- or just that really nice midwife you introduced me to at the Halloween party, Alexa... If... If I get pregnant again. No one else."

Aether just nods, taking Dewdrop's hand, leading him back to bed. "Those are all reasonable. I can call for an appointment in the morning. Sound fair?"

"Yeah... Sounds fair."

It's about two months worth of sessions, both privately and together, making sure that YES. They want this! Dew is mentally ready for this again, Aether isn't in some kink phase, etc. They even talk to Calida who's more than excited about a little sibling! Dewy gets off his testosterone and starts taking supplements, and circles his first heat for them to start trying. They keep everything quiet for a while, and even more months of failed attempts to conceive. It's about month four when Dew wakes Aether up, sitting on his lap with two positive pregnancy tests.

They're SO fucking excited but keep their expectations mellow. Dewdrop's health has much changed since Calida, plus they don't know if the egg will fully stay intact. Still, it is exciting for Aether to smell how fruity Dewdrop is. Constantly scenting him to see if there's any changes but also to cover the smell around the others. Every night Aether has his eyes full of stars and a gentle hand on Dew's stomach, whispering to Dewy what he sees, how small it is, but still so full of fluids and cells.

Two months, they agree to tell the others. It goes as they expect, excitement and extra affection, a ghoul pile that even Copia makes time to join.

"Have you started thinking about names or anything like that?" Sunny is laying her head on Dew's thigh, smiling SO wide.

"No, not just yet. Things can still change so we're waiting at least until near the end of the second trimester."

"Makes sense," Swiss chimes in. "Does Calida know?"

Aether is the one to laugh, leaning over. "That girl scared the birds away from how excited she got. She was the first to know."

Now, Dewdrop wouldn't trade Calida for the world. But he wishes he had this gentleness when he was expecting her. The kindness and a huge pack so that he doesn't have to strain and try to keep up, that he knew early, how accommodating everything's been. There's times he'll just hold his stomach and look in the mirror, so much deja vu of when he did it in hotel bathrooms while on tour. Speaking to Calida and telling her she was going to be the light of his life, and now he's doing it again. Just another piece for a puzzle he didn't know wasn't completed yet.

He's put on bed rest once more, too many high risks going on, and he starts eventually experiencing... Symptoms.

"What do you mean they're weird?"

"They're just fucking weird, Aether! Just, okay, tickle me."

He blinks. "You hate being tickled."

"I know! Just do it!"

He shrugs and does a little wiggle of his fingers before attacking Dew's sides and armpits. Listening to him squeal and laugh, grimacing and eventually - the TV turns on. Aether is staring at it while Dew catches his breath.

"See? Weird fucking shit! If I sneeze the lights turn on and off, when I get headaches my phone's battery dies, and like... It's so strange!"

Aether whistles a little, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh we're so having a quint."

"Huh?"

Aether looks him dead in the eyes, but a big goofy smile. "You're having magick surges. Little bit is reacting to you, and quintessence is a hell of a thing. Starts while still in the womb, my mother in the pit had almost the same things happening. Less technology and more of like, levitation. We're having a quint!"

Dew blinks before breaking into cries. "Woah, woah! What's wrong, my love?"

"I'm gonna look like a fucking watermelon you ass-wipe!" Hitting him softly but still crying.

Poor thing isn't even six months yet, but he looks like he's eight! Mumbling about his feet hurting, his legs more swollen than normal, cravings that are insanity to even be thought of. It's when he's in the nursery, tying ribbons on the crib when he gasps at a feeling, holding his stomach... It happens again.

He doesn't even get the full trill out before Cumulus and Mountain are RAMMING into that door.

"What's wrong?!"

But, he's smiling, beckoning them over. Takes both of their hands and puts it on his bump, shushing them every time they try to ask. There's a kick and their eyes go wide, Dew just as much. It's much softer than normal kicks, but that's to be expected from the egg sack still around them.

Then, finally, a gender reveal. Expecting a tiny little girl, Aether excited as he's always been a girl dad, adjusting some of the things in the nursery to match her.

"Teddy."

"Hm?"

Dew is playing with a tiny onesie, keeping his eyes locked on it. "What do you think of the name Starshine?"

"Starshine?"

"Yeah," his thumb going over the embroidered star on the onesie. "For our daughter."

Aether hums, thinking it over a little before he nods. "Yeah... Yeah, I like that."

He makes it to full term, after an agonizing day and a half of his water being broken and no dilation. Clutching to Aether and Mountain, Alexa between his knees to help course their daughter out. Mountain's fur is sticking up from the amount of electricity from Dew holding him, then with how hot he is. There's a bit of a power surge at the final push before the lights come back. Dewdrop sobbing as he dead weights against the two, staring at the ceiling but ears completely focused on Starshine's mad cries as she's cut from the sack.

Good god they though Mountain was furry? That poor girl is gonna need haircuts WEEKLY. Aether and Dew laughing a bit as they're holding this purple blob of fur, some soft white on her belly and in her ears. Hair blonde, just like Dewdrop's.

Mountain congratulating them and helping Alexa clean up a little while the new parents again bask in the afterglow with their new daughter :3

[rhiannonsknife]

thinking about sub!rhiannon tonight…

now that we’ve talked about dom!rhiannon, allow me to introduce you to: sub!rhiannon. i think this applies most to the version of herself from when she’s still relatively new to killing. a version that, after a long night out, just needs to fall into the arms of somebody who can take of her properly. sub!rhiannon who trusts you enough to let her guard down as much as this. sub!rhiannon who gets so whiny when she first lets you have your way with her: grinding her hips and begging for your touch the moment she’s got the courage to let herself want. to let herself be taken by another. she has learned to be in control of things, to take a life with one practiced stab of her knife. but with all that newfound control comes a longing to put it into your hands, from time to time. something about it turns her on so much…to be on the receiving end of things, to have someone’s full attention on herself, to be the one who’s controlled, in an environment safe enough to.

sub!rhiannon who shyly admits to a fantasy of hers once, half hoping you’ll forget about it and never bring it up again in the aftermath. sub!rhiannon who eagerly lets you blindfold her when you do bring it up again, because you’re attentive like that. she allows you to put the blindfold on, always checking in with her to make sure she’s as into this as the had hoped she would be -which she is.

“you’re still good?” you gently whisper into her ear from behind. rhiannon is leaning against your chest, a shiver running down her bare back.

“mhm, yeah” she nods, licking her lips in anticipation.

“can you see anything?” you question, running the tip of your fingers down the length of her arms. you take pride in the goosebumps that rise underneath your slow touch.

“no” she shakes her head after tilting it experimentally, testing the blindfold you’ve wrapped around her head. “no, i can’t”

“good” you hum approvingly and kiss down the side of her neck. her breath hitches underneath the firm pressure of your lips.

you keep trailing your fingertips down rhiannon’s arm, caressing the inner side of it, over her wrist, to where she’s clutching her knife in her firm white knuckle hold. it’s trembling.

“and you know you can stop at any time?” you ask, again. you’re just as new to this as she is, but rhiannon had been quite vocal about this specific fantasy of hers.

as if on cue, she whispers “mhm” and nods her head in the direction from which your voice had come.

you nudge your index finger between the palm of her hand and her tense fingers. like this, you ease her fist open until she’s barely holding onto the knife anymore. that’s when you take it from her. rhiannon gasps at the loss of contact with her beloved weapon. it is what keeps her confident, striding the streets late at night, eyes set on a potential victim. and now, that exact knife is in your hand, instead. just like that, she's passed all her power onto you.

you hush her and take it experimentally. she’s allowed you to hold it beforehand, of course, just to get an idea of the weight of it. to get a feel of the thrill each use brings to rhiannon.

your silence must’ve alarmed something in your girlfriend, whose head darts back to where she suspects you, quietly calling out your name. “i’m still here” you assure, as you gently squeeze her shoulder with the other hand. “i told you i got you”

rhiannon opens her mouth, looking like she wants to speak, but then shuts it abruptly when she hears the scratchy noise of the blade unfolding. she audibly gulps when you carefully guide her back until you’re both leaning against the pillows comfortably. with your mouth close to her ear all over again, you ask: “is this what you wanted?”

she nods in response, about to verbally agree when you suddenly press the blunt side of the blade to her thigh. it’s not sharp, nor is there any risk of harming her, but the cold sensation punches a ragged breath from rhiannon’s lungs anyway.

“o-oh!” her fingers tighten around your free wrist, her whole body tense as you gently drag it along her skin and upwards. like this, there’s no risk of breaking skin at all. you -being less experienced with guiding the knife- wouldn’t trust yourself enough to do that. not that you’d ever mean any harm, but even hurting her by accident is too risky for your own liking. and, besides, it’s not like rhiannon can tell -with her eyes covered and closed underneath the blindfold.

you doubt that it’s about that at all: about the possibility of causing pain. no, it’s about the control. control that’s usually in rhiannon’s hands at all times. control that she can only give up on when she passes it on to someone else. that someone, who she has enough trust in, happens to be you.

with that in mind, you run the mental up her body, relishing in the way she shivers when you press the flat of her knife against her lower abdomen, then follow the thin trail of hair all the way up to her belly button. rhiannon shakes in your hold when you play with her breast with one hand -gently rolling it between your index and your thumb- whilst the other carefully pushes the same part of the blade against her other nipple.

she’s always been sensitive there and so she cries out at the sudden cold, arching her body in a beautiful bend. you hush her and guide her back against you with the free hand draped over her stomach. rhiannon's muscles jump to the touch. each comes to her as a surprise, without being able to use her vision in order to detect any motion like she usually would. she’s panting by now and tosses her head back against your shoulder breathlessly.

rhiannon has grown stronger over the past couple of months: her biceps has grown -not an excessive amount, but enough to be hard to the touch when the muscles flex instinctively. the gain has not gone unnoticed; she could have her way with you so easily if she wanted to and yet.

yet you’re the one holding the blunt side of her weapon to her skin. yet she lets you.

carefully, in order not to startle her, you let your hand slide upwards, over the valley between her breasts, up her throat, before finally being able to hold her chin and gently force her to lean her head further back.

„look at you“ you whisper, genuinely mesmerized by the sight. you can feel rhiannon’s pulse racing underneath your palm, you can hear the way she’s forcing each breath to come from her lungs. with ease, you work the knife up to trace her jawline with its flat. she’s holding her breath, now, not daring to move in your grip.

once you’ve had enough of trailing the entire shape of rhiannon’s outline with the metal, you set it aside on her bedside table, careful to fold it beforehand.

when you bring your hand between her thighs next, it is your turn to gasp in surprise. she’s wet. she’s so wet, your fingers slide right through her slick folds. rhiannon is dripping for you...

[minkdelovely]

MUAHAHAHAHA I AM SO SATIATED!! Something I have been praying for has finally come to fruition, and I am BEYOND pleased.

Hazel, my dear, you continue to astound me. This was such an ENTERTAINING chapter. You really let the bitch flag fly, and I truly couldn’t be happier.

And don’t even get me started on the beginning or the middle between Alastor and Autumn… ughhh they really are too sweet with each other. Their love is so palpable and I’ll never get tired of reading about it 🥺♥️

I won’t say anything else here, because the chapter just needs to be read by y’all but~ screaming down below, per usual 😮‍💨

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Forehead pressed against the wall of the bathroom, Alastor’s hand gripped the base of his cock and squeezed.

AAAAND WE’RE OFF 👀

He couldn’t mentally stay in a romantic mindset when it was just fingers and running water.

there’s something about this that’s really getting me like… he enjoys ‘making love’?? Not even trying to out that connotation on it, but it’s like a subconscious acknowledgment? does this make sense? 😭✨

He wasn’t going to knock up the drain or make the shower quiver so this seemed just wasteful. 

and then this is just so on point for him, comically and logically 😂♥️

Your laugh at watching Alastor march through the bedroom sopping wet and butt naked choked you when your eyes lowered to see he was also rock hard.

the way I actually see this in my mind right now omg…

“I didn’t want to waste it.” His hips rutted into your side, the evidence of every place he touched were large dark spots on your clothes. “Do you want to —?”

THE DARK SPOTS! THE PASSION!

You always forgot his strength when looking at him. Until he was holding you up by the hips, for example, fucking you against the bedroom wall. Wet skin slapping against your thighs, panties swinging around your ankle with every thrust. A lovely way to start a Monday. 

JESUS FUCKING CHRISTTT 🫠❤️‍🔥

The weekend had been spent with a very attentive and clearly apologetic Alastor. His hands had been more present on your body, always holding your hand or pulling your legs over his lap as you both read. Dinners with his feet tangled with yours. Nights with his head buried in your hair.

ughhh this is too sweet… even though he’s all torn up. The gestures are just so cute and intimate 🥺

Every time you sighed his name, he clenched his teeth to keep it back. He wouldn’t weaponize it. He’d struggled to keep the compelled confession buried into your lap before, but he could keep it together until the moment was happy and without the bitter taste of his disappointment still lingering on your tongue.

STOPPP I AM WRITHING AAHHH!!!

He felt you tighten around him, yes, a much better use of arousal. The good thing about his years of experience before you was he had time to learn. To know when to quicken his pace and when to focus on depth. 

I actually can’t get over that even if he was going through the motions with others, he was still determined to make sure that it wasn’t sub-par and that’s really on brand for him.

His mind stayed there long after you finished and went into work. Leaving you behind was difficult, a small wiggling worm of fear deep in his skull that’d you’d vanish if his body wasn’t touching yours. 

hey remember how I actually told you TO STOP??

“Hush.” You warned him, and he pretended to zip his lips shut and slip the imaginary key into your skirt pocket. 

I’M GONNA FUCKING CRY I CAN PICTURE THIS TOO WELL

Brady would be popping up as soon as possible, you warned. There was no way he was dropping the issue. He’d be knocking on Alastor’s office door in no time.

Kenneth is incessant, and it’s genuinely what you want in a detective but also maybe go touch grass my guy.

Brenda far too loudly announced two detectives were there for him. She was side eyeing them with a sneer he could almost appreciate when she popped her head in to yell it. 

BRENDA!! You’re a real one omg

“I’ll be right out.” Alastor set his work down and took a deep breath. Every piece of him wanted to rush from the room and strangle Brady on the office floor. He’d seen him many times before but the pesky detective didn’t know that. A tremble of excitement he shook away. Smile on, he left the office.

LET’S GET READY TO RUUUUMBLEEE

Bright eyes. Tired. Light hair. Pale. Clothes wrinkled. Sweat stains even though it was autumn already. 

what did I say? Kenny needs to take to the air

“Good afternoon, detectives. Alastor. It’s a pleasure.” He extended his hand but only Freeman moved to shake it.

KENNETH YOU REALLY ARE SO FUCKING BOLD — you can’t even TRY to fake it??

“Edward Freeman. I am a big fan, sir. Your voice is made for radio.” Freeman shook Alastor’s with both of his own, not noticing his partner’s wide eyed horror. “Such a pleasure. I promise we won’t take too much of your time.”

AAAHHH EDWARD IS ONE OF US!! AHAHAHAHAHA FUCK YEAH!!

Alastor could have cackled directly into Brady’s face but managed to keep himself in check, “A face for radio too! Ha ha ha,” his laugh was loud, genuinely amused with himself, “Well it’s always a treat to meet a listener.”

he’s good at playing bitchy and humble — I am VIBRATING

Brady thought he’d black out. He’d began his day humming with anticipation, the high of having a name and occupation making him dizzy all weekend. The shock of Freeman immediately cozying up to his prime ( and sole ) suspect was throwing him off balance.

yeah, you got the rug pulled out from right under you. Tough luck, sport!

A string bean of a human in thin circular glasses was charming the wits off his partner.

KENNY THE HATER

“Girlfriend?!” Brenda choked on her coffee, her desk just some feet beside them. “You’re confused. I’d know if he had a girl.”

BRENDA!! 😂

“But you’d never! This is slander!”

when Brenda clutches pearls it’s honestly so endearing — I love her! 😭✨

Brenda was on her feet, a second from foaming at the mouth, “Out! You get out of this office at once!” 

I AM CACKLING!! SHE’S REALLY OUT HERE TELLING THESE COPS TO LEAVE! 😂🙏🏻♥️

“Thank you, Brenda!” Alastor hissed, “Let’s continue this in my office, gentlemen.” His arm swung out to gesture to the open door. 

Brenda was left fiddingly with her pearls in horror. 

ACTUALLY CLUTCHING PEARLS!! AAAHH!!!

“So, now that we’re … free from that, what were you saying?” He tried to chuckle away the chaos, one hand gently smoothing his hair back.

suavecitoooo 😮‍💨

“Wouldn’t go that far… I’m embarrassed to admit it but yes I did take out a singer some time ago. Dancer too, I was told. But, I,” his hands slid in his pockets and he shrugged his shoulders, “I had a lovely time with her.” He gave Freeman a shy smirk, “I just didn’t want anything serious. Paid for her cab last time I saw her but I didn’t give her a dime for anything else.”

OOOHHH WHAT A COVER. It’s embarrassing but clever

“We were told you’d been seeing her for quite some time.” Brady had been prepared for every reply.

OF COURSE

“I loved going there. I first noticed her over a few weekends. Asked her out there, too. But after a few nights out she seemed a little… not worth the trouble, I’ll say.” He grimaced, “I really sound like a rake, huh?” He looked to Freeman, asking for the man’s acceptance with his eyes.

A RAKE!! This is one of my favorite little terms — it’s fitting hehe ♥️

Freeman chuckled at the suggestion, “Not at all! Good looking man such as yourself, nice job, no wife. I’d be sowing my oats so to speak too. We’re just hunting down some people for questioning regarding a missing manager.”

SOWING MY OATS!! EDWARD!! 😂

A twitch to the corner of Alastor’s smile, “Sorry detective, I assumed this here was your superior. He just has … an aura of experienced professionalism to him. Now where was I… a manager,” he shook his head, “Was he at The Bandstand by any chance?”

ALASTOR YOU FIEND!! 😮‍💨😂

Brady rolled his eyes. Alastor was definitely the man Beth mentioned; a daisy. The kind of man to fret over a stained tie or wet shoes.

So sloppiness is the height of masculinity, is that what I’m getting Kenneth? And wet shoes are a sensory fucking nightmare 😩

“People in …those kinds of establishments can’t expect civility.” His nails were digging through the cotton of his pants. It made him sick to say it. How many days did he kiss your bruises? How long had they lasted? Longer than Tommy, that was for sure. Outlived him by quite some time. His smile spread. Brady noticed it, clearing his throat. 

UGHHH I feel sick too, but you’re doing so well my darling 🥺

Freeman turned back in his chair to look at Brady once more, this was his impromptu interview. He’d begged Freeman to take the early lunch. Brady promised him this was the guy and that if it wasn’t, he’d never bring it up again.

OH FUCK you really cornered yourself here, Ken.

This man in front of him was soft. He was feminine in some aspects, definitely quite lanky and seemingly devoid of real muscle. Brady hadn’t imagined his killer to be concerned about style or fashion, yet this man clearly put a lot into his appearance. He couldn’t imagine him killing anyone… perhaps a gun?

A GUN?? If this is your serial killer, you’d think people would have mentioned hearing guns popping off intermittently through NoLa, but go off I guess…

Alastor whistled, “Besides jazz and piano? I fish. Uh,” Alastor looked for threads of truth to add to the web, “I garden quite a bit, actually. Love to dance.”

A man of many talents 🥹♥️

“Born and raised, detective. Native son if there ever was one.”

He slipped out his notepad and slapped it against the fleshy part of his hand. Brady’s spirit was withering. 

I can hear the tone of voice that did it too hehe

“Call anytime, but word to the wise. Brenda will answer first.” Alastor let out a loud and singular ‘ha!’

MY DARLING BITCH 🙏🏻♥️

Alastor took back his hand from Brady and wiped it off against his vest as soon as the men were turned around.

HAZELLL what a lovely way to incorporate this 😮‍💨✨

She warned him of people with heaviness,  people who gathered bad energy like rain on a flat roof. That weight attracted likewise things. A gravity would form and pull in more and more darkness. 

You’d mentioned a storm, and now Alastor was seeing that drip drip drip of the cracking roof. 

THE IMAGERY! DEAREST YOU’RE PAINTING WITH WORDS AGAIN! 😩❤️‍🔥

A chill, insidious and violent made him turn on his heels and shut the door with force. There it was again, that fight or flight feeling. Twice in nearly as many days. Never did Alastor feel insecure in situations of life or death, not literal life or death that was. He didn’t care about dying. 

SPOOKED! Kenneth is a wraith and you’re SPOOKED my darling 😰

If fear was a lark in his chest it’s little spine cracked and popped as it grew and mutated into a rageful osprey, anger opening his lungs and sinuses as blood rushed with renewed vigor. This was Brady’s fault, entirely. He was ruining everything. Alastor finally had what felt like everything he wanted and deserved (anger dampening his usual insecurity of what was meant for him) and Brady was going to tear it apart. 

I’m getting “let’s begin” vibes but also I really need to you take a breath my love — don’t be rash!

“Those detectives! Accuse you of debauchery!” 

He imagined telling her how his morning started, fucking the nude dancer against his bedroom wall, arleady shacking up out of wedlock. Maybe it’d kill Brenda? That’d be convenient. 

that would, in fact, make her suffer cardiac arrest Alastor 🙈✨

“Welcome home!” You waited for the car door to close before greeting him, worrying over the timing. He froze between the car and the wooden steps. You stopped your swinging on the porch swing, noticing how odd it was to see someone completely still like that. You remembered the deer along the road. “What’s wrong?”

Every thought flew out his head and into the early setting sun. An odd deja vu came over him. He hadn’t heard those words in literal years. “No one has said that to me…since my mother died.”

FUCK THIS HIT ME REALLY HARD

Another moment as you parted and both of you realized how odd the situation was. The killer and his dancer playing house. For a brief second, maybe heaven mistook you for something normal and good.

YOU DESERVE YOUR HAPPINESS DAMN IT ;A;

“Oh, did you want company? I don’t mind going out.” His little smile made it hard to deny him.

OMGGG HOW DID YOU STAY STRONG???

“I really hate keeping secrets from you.” His fingers were pulling and pushing at the edge of the blanket. 

his nervous little ticks are gonna be the death of me, they’re too endearing

“Brady and his partner came by today to my office, like you’d expected. I didn’t want to ruin our day, knowing how rarely we will live traditionally. But it’s just bothering the hell out of me.” His hands came to cover his cheeks and crawl into his hair out of stress. An overreaction, the weekend having truly discombobulated the man. 

YOU’RE NEVER GONNA STOP HUH?!

Flowers, you thought. You should buy flowers on Saturday, too. 

MY SOUL IS LEAVING MY BODY OMGGG HE DESERVES FLOWERS!

Alastor nerves hadn’t settled yet, even if he slept well beside you. Every day he came home and you were still there felt like he’d been holding his breath the entire drive home. During lunch he’d call the house so you could talk and eat together, in a sense. The conversation eased him, a confirmation you still liked him. An embarrassing fear he couldn’t let you on to. 

I REALLY FUCKING CAN’T WITH YOU 🫠♥️

He didn’t understand you spent the week calling record shops in search of something specific. Plotting exactly how you’d do it. You’d mastered the phonograph in the room beside the kitchen and found an old vase in the back of the cupboard. 

really digging the knife in oh my god 🥲

Alastor was honest with you that he left work early to check on Brady midweek. He was practically dancing through the kitchen when he reported Brady went home on time for the first night in what could have been weeks. And he did so looking like shit.

HA!

He sat quietly the rest of the work day, thinking over everything again. It still felt right, but Alastor didn’t look right. Maybe it was a group, some new gang in town. Perhaps Alastor had some business with them.

He’s not wrong, but I hate that he’s also going based of Alastor’s looks? Like THAT’S what’s gonna shake you up? 😂🙈

Is downtown just inherently dangerous, he wondered. He supposed the map lined up with the jazz scene, and where there is dance and liquor there’s crime.

KENNETH THE RELENTLESS OVER HERE

“He could be like that Holmes man in Chicago.” She smiled from across the meat and potatoes she’d slow cooked over the day.

YOU KEEP H.H. HOLMES OUT OF THIS!!

She let misplaced comment go, and moved to turn on the radio. Something to fill the silence. She wondered if her favorite program was on, though it was a little late for that. 

imagine Alastor’s voice booming through your house Kenneth? You were spared by the narrative

The day finally came, your highly anticipated and scheduled confession. Saturday morning you slipped on your shoes, pushing back thoughts of everything they’d seen, and slid into the car. You had a game plan. Apartment, get your stash and change out your shoes. Head to the phonograph shop on Calliope and grab the record. Flower shop, something bright and fragrant. Stop by the theater for a bottle of whatever they were willing to part with. Call him from there to pick you up behind the building.

I AM GOING INSANEEE THIS IS SO SWEET

You didn’t need Ephi, full stop.

I meannn 💀💀💀

“I’ll call you from the theater so I can wait inside. Lo-,” Your mouth opened to say it, as you’d been practicing it in your head all week, “Lucky me I’m still welcome there.” A quick save.

I NEARLY CHOKED OH MY GOD

Barely a second into the room and you were already reeling with anger. What a skill she had.

I’d say! Calling it a skill is too kind

“What the fuck? Are you taking the furniture?! It’s a fucking dress.”

that’s honestly the least of your concerns you little bitch 😂🙈

As the distance between your problem and you became greater, the gap was closing in on Alastor and his.

LOVELY SEGUE

He was in the kitchen splashing his face with water, dusty from sweeping the porch, when he heard a car door slam shut.

THE CAUCASITY OF KENNETH I SWEAR TO FUCKING GODDD

Past the stairs and the kitchen doorway, he could see the shape of a man. He was standing in front of the greenhouse with both hands on his hips, staring at it. Bright hair reflecting the sun.

THE CAUCASITY, I SAY! Fuck Ken, you just went straight to the greenhouse?!

Brady nodded, a smug smile and a wink, “Sure do.”

I’m actually fucking seething???

Alastor returned to the kitchen for the key, grabbing a small paring knife and placing it in the back pocket of his slacks. Sharp and quick. 

BABY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T SUCCUMB TO THIS

“Water! Turns out plants love the stuff. Who knew!” Alastor’s fingers curled around the knife’s handle, “I prune, propagate, and repot them here and rinse it off after. Due to the shade of the table, the ground tends to stay wet longer.” He wondered if Brady had told anyone where he was. Maybe Freeman? 

yeah, please convince yourself someone knows where he is my love — I really need you to keep it cool and just keep antagonizing this man 😭

Alastor laughed, “No, that was a lie. This is all meticulously maintained for aesthetics.” 

YES KEEP IT UP

He’d been thinking this out for months now in a way, though, hadn’t he?

DON’T

As he watched Brady eye the land with a dismissive glance, he realized he’d never killed anyone at his home. It didn’t seem to be a good idea. Like they’d taint the land. Plus, killing the cop in the backyard was about as opposite of what you’d asked of him as he could get. 

THIS IS GOOD — PLEASE DON’T, MY HEART IS SO TIGHT

The detective slapped his notebook against his palm and whistled, “Radio pays well, huh?”

“Better than a detective, maybe. But this was all my mother’s land.” He said it with pride, one hand leaving his pocket to gesture at the house and beyond. 

that’s my bitch!! ♥️

“Your mother. And she… how exactly did someone like her get her hands on a plot like this?” Brady squinted at the tree line, knowing full well how he said it. “Quite a bit of land for someone of her… background.” He quickly turned his full body to Alastor, “You see that movie, ‘Murder!’, by Hitchcock? My wife was saying how interesting it was over dinner the other night. Your receptionist mentioned you like the movies.”

THIS FUCKING BIGOT I SWEAR TO GOD

Alastor bristled, he’d seen the film and picked up the tone being taken,  “Did you want to see anything else, Kenneth? Or did you drive all the way here to quiz me on your wife's morbid interests?”

“Detective Brady.” He corrected. 

NO. You heard our baby right KENNETH.

“Maybe in the Orleans parish.” Alastor took a step toward him. He reveled in the confused expression Brady made. “Oh you didn’t realize when you crossed the lake? This is St. Tammany. You’re out of jurisdiction.” Another step. “So I’ll call you whatever I damn well please.”

YESSSS!!! FLAY HIM WITH YOUR WORDS MY DARLING ♥️

Alastor’s arms went out in a shrug, “Ah, well, good luck finding a judge to approve you harassing a law abiding land owner for…what exactly? A drugged out criminal who stopped showing up to work? Forgive me for not holding my breath. Now kindly get the fuck off my mother’s property. “

This is getting dangerous! I never wanted the bitchfest to get dangerous!

Brady was still holding onto hope that Alastor was your man but now, his throat ran dry. He got more than that.

GOD DAMN IT!! FUCK!

Alastor’s hand twitched, he fought the rage bubbling up his throat. His vision was beginning to turn red around the edges. He could hear Aubrey squeaking out the first syllable of that damn word just behind his left ear.

Perhaps he was the blade hanging over Brady’s head. 

FUCK!!!

With even paces he walked over to the stump where he chopped wood and pulled the axe out, “Ya know! Something about you makes my fucking skin crawl.” He pointed it at Brady, the detective taking note of the arm strength needed to hold the unevenly heavy tool steady and parallel to the ground. “I do hope for your sake this is our final meeting. You should leave now.” His head titled to the left, “And keep your nose clean, Kenneth. It’s a dangerous time for bad men in New Orleans.”

ALASTOR!!! FUCK!!!

As the car started Alastor dropped the axe until it’s flat top of the blade rested on the ground and he leaned his weight onto it akin to a cane. His free hand’s fingers waved goodbye before dropping down to his side limply. He stood there with eyes fixed and body still as a predator waiting for its opportunity. How many gators had Brady watched from the shore with just that look? He peeled out, sight unseen as he blindly backed onto the unpaved road, and made a beeline to the nearest phone. 

He had to tell someone. He was right. He had been right the whole time. Alastor killed Tommy Dupre. And there was no doubt in Brady’s swirling mind that you knew that fact. 

GGASAAHAKZNSIZJNSHS FUUUUCKKK!!!! I wanna be happy about another gator mention but A BITCH IS STRESSED!

A Doe in Fall (Part 14)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smut💦📍

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Where we left off: Alastor and Reader had a misunderstanding and a heavy talk on the back porch. He’d let it slip how deeply he felt but it was muffled by your thighs.

Part 14 Someone like her

Brady says the magic words after finally meeting his elusive radio man. But was that a good thing?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, masturbation, Ace Alastor is trying his best, little smut to start the day, Brenda exists, Reader is also trying her best but it’s less hot, mentions of abuse, thinly veiled racism, Insecure Alastor, an axe, Alastor is the deer and gator」

MDNI ☎️💚🏡

Forehead pressed against the wall of the bathroom, Alastor’s hand gripped the base of his cock and squeezed.

He’d been trying to masturbate more, hoping to prolong things when with you, but the action was just so pointless. Yes it felt good, but so did scratching his back when he had an itch. But there was no itch here. He couldn’t mentally stay in a romantic mindset when it was just fingers and running water. What intimacy existed there? What was the point? Male orgasms were for procreation and pleasure, were they not? He wasn’t going to knock up the drain or make the shower quiver so this seemed just wasteful. 

Images of your pleasured face ghosted behind his eyes. Nothing pointless about that. A twitch to the otherwise bored flesh in his grip. 

Wasteful.

Your laugh at watching Alastor march through the bedroom sopping wet and butt naked choked you when your eyes lowered to see he was also rock hard.

“Oh.” Was all you managed before his shower was soaking through your cotton top and powder blue skirt. “Oh.” Ravenous mouth at your jawline.

“I didn’t want to waste it.” His hips rutted into your side, the evidence of every place he touched were large and dark wet spots on your clothes. “Do you want to —?”

His fingers were already crawling down your thighs and gathering your skirt up. 

You always forgot his strength when looking at him. Until he was holding you up by the hips, for example, fucking you against the bedroom wall. Wet skin slapping against your thighs, panties swinging around your ankle with every thrust. A lovely way to start a Monday. 

The weekend had been spent with a very attentive and clearly apologetic Alastor. His hands had been more present on your body, always holding your hand or pulling your legs over his lap as you both read. Dinners with his feet tangled with yours. Nights with his head buried in your hair.

The words were moaned through his own mind, scared to let them go again.

I just love you so much.

Every time you sighed his name, he clenched his teeth to keep it back. He wouldn’t weaponize it. He’d struggled to keep the compelled confession buried into your lap before, but he could keep it together until the moment was happy and without the bitter taste of his disappointment still lingering on your tongue.

An enlightened gasp dripped into a breathy moan as you realized this must be the make up sex the ladies always talk about. You’d never understood the concept before then. 

He felt you tighten around him, yes, a much better use of arousal. The good thing about his years of experience before you was he had time to learn. To know when to quicken his pace and when to focus on depth. Quality over quantity, he thought.

His mind stayed there long after you finished and he went into work. Leaving you behind was difficult, a small wiggling worm of fear deep in his skull that’d you’d vanish if his body wasn’t touching yours. 

You’d taken off some time from work, partly out of sheer embarrassment and partly to keep the theater safe from Brady. Which meant when he left for work, you kissed him goodbye at the door. You both laughed into the small space between your lips immediately afterwards. 

“Hush.” You warned him, and he pretended to zip his lips shut and slip the imaginary key into your skirt pocket. 

Alastor was happy to hear Brady had been told he had a handful of nothing but he knew his clock was ticking. You’d recounted your time in the station and how angry and disappointed the other detective had seemed with Brady. Brady would be popping up as soon as possible, you warned. There was no way he was dropping the issue. He’d be knocking on Alastor’s office door in no time. 

Much sooner than Alastor had prepared for, but he was ever the performer. 

Brenda far too loudly announced two detectives were there for him. She was side eyeing them with a sneer he could almost appreciate when she popped her head in to yell it. 

“I’ll be right out.” Alastor set his work down and took a deep breath. Every piece of him wanted to rush from the room and strangle Brady on the office floor. He’d seen him many times before but the pesky detective didn’t know that. A tremble of excitement he shook away. Smile on, he left the office.

His observations came quick and loud as he saw Brady’s face in the daylight for the first time.

Bright eyes. Tired. Light hair. Pale. Clothes wrinkled. Sweat stains even though it was autumn already. 

The man beside him was new to Alastor, and Alastor couldn’t tell yet what to do with him. Taller, older, darker complexion. His expression was relaxed in comparison to Brady’s stressed one.

“Good afternoon, detectives. Alastor. It’s a pleasure.” He extended his hand but only Freeman moved to shake it.

Brady was staring with blatant scrutiny. Alastor was quite tall, and much leaner than he had anticipated. His hair was perfectly in place, with clean skin and neat glasses. Was this the right man?

“Edward Freeman. I am a big fan, sir. Your voice is made for radio.” Freeman shook Alastor’s with both of his own, not noticing his partner’s wide eyed horror. “Such a pleasure. I promise we won’t take too much of your time.”

Alastor could have cackled directly into Brady’s face but managed to keep himself in check, “A face for radio too! Ha ha ha,” his laugh was loud, genuinely amused with himself, “Well it’s always a treat to meet a listener.”

Brady thought he’d black out. He’d began his day humming with anticipation, the high of having a name and occupation making him dizzy all weekend. The shock of Freeman immediately cozying up to his prime (and sole) suspect was throwing him off balance.

He’d brought him along so he could show him he’d gotten the right man. He’d thought —- he’d been so sure Alastor would be some second rate employee with rough hands and thick arms. Not the pretty host working behind some desk. Weren’t there large spools of cable and big contraptions radio station employees lugged around? Where were those men?

A string bean of a human in thin circular glasses was charming the wits off his partner.

“Brady. We’re here to discuss an important matter regarding your girlfriend.” Brady leaned in to separate the other two men and their budding camaraderie.

“Girlfriend?!” Brenda choked on her coffee, her desk just some feet beside them. “You’re confused. I’d know if he had a girl.”

“Thank you, Brenda.” Alastor said through a forced smile, “She is right though. I am unattached. Lifelong bachelor.”

“That’s interesting. Because when we picked her up at the burlesque theater,” he was cut off by a shriek.

“Nude dancing?! Sir! My—-you! Alastor would never! He is a man of means and class! I-,” Brenda’s hands were aimlessly shuffling time cards. “The only theater he frequents is the cinema.”

“Brenda.” Alastor laughed, not taking his eyes off of Brady, “Please. Let the man finish.”

“But you’d never! This is slander!”

“No slander. We picked her up for prostitution and her,” again he was drowned out by the receptionist. 

Brenda was on her feet, a second from foaming at the mouth, “Out! You get out of this office at once!” 

“Sure, why don’t we take this to the station.” 

“You want a local celebrity,” Alastor’s eye twitched as Brenda screeched out the words, “to be marched down there like a common criminal! I’m calling the station, you’re mad.” 

“Thank you, Brenda!” Alastor hissed, words heavy, “Let’s continue this in my office, gentlemen.” His arm swung out to gesture to the open door. 

Brenda was left fiddingly with her pearls in horror. 

Alastor followed the men in and leaned back against his desk casually, offering them the two chairs. 

“So, now that we’re … free from that, what were you saying?” He tried to chuckle away the chaos, one hand gently smoothing his hair back.

“We took in a woman last week for prostitution. Charges dropped but  — her friends said you were her beau.” Freeman leaned back too, crossing his legs at the ankle as they stretched out in front of him, “Radio man named Alastor? Not too many of those so, thought we’d just come by and check.”

Brady stood near the door, refusing to sit. “So. Gonna tell me there’s some more Alastors in New Orleans? Or gonna be straight with us?”

Alastor nodded, sighing through his nose. You’d filled him in already on the story.

“Burlesquer, right? Pretty thing with the long lashes and sharp tongue?” He looked up at Brady over his glasses, looking as boyish as a man his age could. 

“So you are her fella?” Freeman’s back straightened. He hadn’t expected that.

“Wouldn’t go that far… I’m embarrassed to admit it but yes I did take out a singer some time ago. Dancer too, I was told. But, I,” his hands slid in his pockets and he shrugged his shoulders, “I had a lovely time with her.” He gave Freeman a shy smirk, “I just didn’t want anything serious. Paid for her cab last time I saw her but I didn’t give her a dime for anything else.”

Brady stared at every inch of the man before him. His white button up was loose at the arms but wasn’t appearing to hide some powerful physique that said ‘I drag bodies around town.’

“We were told you’d been going to see her for quite some time.” Brady had been prepared for every reply.

Alastor furrowed his brow and pretended to think, hand coming from his pocket to adjust his glasses, “Talking about the nice little joint near the park?”

“Yeah.” Brady smiled. “So you admit it.”

“I loved going there. I first noticed her over a few weekends. Asked her out there, too. But after a few nights out she seemed a little… not worth the trouble, I’ll say.” He grimaced, “I really sound like a rake, huh?” He looked to Freeman, asking for the man’s acceptance with his eyes.

Freeman chuckled at the suggestion, “Not at all! Good looking man such as yourself, nice job, no wife. I’d be sowing my oats so to speak too. We’re just hunting down some people for questioning regarding a missing manager.”

Brady thought his head would snap with how quickly he turned to Freeman. He was saying too much.

“He’s uh, drats what’s her name?” Freeman turned around to Brady. Brady looked up to Alastor expectantly.

“Oh! She gave me some fake name. Winter or… August. I didn’t press the matter.” Alastor walked back to his desk and sat down, trying to get eye level with Freeman who was the easier of the two to play, “Missing manager? I frequent a lot of clubs looking for talent. Maybe I knew the guy. What’s his name?”

“Tommy Dupre.” Brady said it sternly. “And I’m the one leading the investigation.”

A twitch to the corner of Alastor’s smile, “Sorry detective, I assumed this here was your superior. He just has … an aura of experienced professionalism to him. Now where was I… a manager,” he shook his head, “Was he at The Bandstand by any chance?” His fingers were flipping through his rolodex of business cards. Brady noted how clean his nails were. But not suspiciously so, not something that seemed overly tended to. He shook his head again more firmly then. “No, never formally met the man at least.”

“He was your burlesquer’s manager.”

Alastor leaned back and crossed his arms, “I never went to her work and I truly don’t visit burlesque theaters. Can't risk my reputation.” Few people out of the club scene knew his face and name so that was a load of shit, but he hoped they wouldn’t stop and consider that much. “We run a clean show here.”

“Here’s the issue, sir.” Freeman patted the tops of his thighs, “Your Ms. Doe-,” Alastor’s brow furrowed in momentary confusion.

“Oh! Ha, clever. I see what you did there.” He laughed, it was light and made Freeman nod his head in thanks.

“She got roughed up real bad by Mr. Dupre around the time ya’ll were seen together.  He disappeared soon after. So, naturally….we wanted to see if you knew anything about what happened to him.”

“Doesn’t shock me to hear that.” Alastor's voice was high pitched and airy. His nonchalance was grating to the younger of the two detectives.

Brady rolled his eyes. Alastor was definitely the man Beth mentioned; a daisy. The kind of man to fret over a stained tie or wet shoes.

“People in …those kinds of establishments can’t expect civility.” His nails were digging through the cotton of his pants. It made him sick to say it. How many days did he kiss your bruises? How long had they lasted? Longer than Tommy, that was for sure. Outlived him by quite some time. His smile spread. Brady noticed it, clearing his throat. 

“What’s the smile for?”

“Ah,” Alastor hid his mouth with the back of his hand, he couldn’t bite back the glee of remembering Tommy beg, “Sorry. I’m just feeling quite grateful I didn’t stick around to be pulled into some dame’s drama. This is exactly why I remain untethered.”

“Wish I’d had that foresight…I’m only joking. My Donna’s a blessing and a half.” Freeman quickly retracted the comment. 

A moment of quiet as they all looked at each other. A natural dead end.

Freeman turned back in his chair to look at Brady once more, this was his impromptu interview. He’d begged Freeman to take the early lunch. Brady promised him this was the guy and that if it wasn’t, he’d never bring it up again.

So he was staring at his partner waiting for the never again to start. 

Brady chewed the inside of his cheek, mind bouncing through thoughts and theories and observations.

This man in front of him was soft. He was feminine in some aspects, definitely quite lanky and seemingly devoid of real muscle. Brady hadn’t imagined his killer to be concerned about style or fashion, yet this man clearly put a lot into his appearance. He couldn’t imagine him killing anyone… perhaps a gun?

“Got any hobbies?”

“Kenny.” Freeman chided.

“Sir.” Brady added it sarcastically.

Alastor whistled, “Besides jazz and piano? I fish. Uh,” Alastor looked for threads of truth to add to the web, “I garden quite a bit, actually. Love to dance.”

Of course he did.  “Sports?”

“I don’t watch nor listen to much of that.”

“No,” an exasperated sigh, “Do you play any sports?”

“Oh!” Another casual laugh that grated Brady’s senses, “No, no. I wouldn’t pretend I’m an athletic man.” 

“Hunting is a popular pastime around here, you ever go out shooting?”

“No sir, not my scene.” Alastor leaned back and swiveled his chair side to side. 

No hunting, really? Brady’s brows rose in suspicion, “….you from New Orleans?”

Freeman crossed his legs, a simple act that somehow conveyed a rising loss of patience.

“Born and raised, detective. Native son if there ever was one.”

He slipped out his notepad and slapped it against the fleshy part of his hand. Brady’s spirit was withering. 

A mistake?

“Understood.” Pushing off of the wall.

“Sorry to cause all this fuss over … my tryst with a dancer not too long ago.” Another bashful bachelor smile. “But it was just that. Fun. I never met her employer. I never even went to her shows. As for the place by the park-,”

“Beth’s.”

Alastor grinned to hide the flinch, “My doe, as you put it sir, was a real canary. But I haven’t been back there since I stopped seeing her. I’m sure if you asked they’d tell you the same.” The phone rang and Alastor apologized, putting a finger up, “Yes, Brenda?” The incessant woman asked what was taking so long. He smiled and nodded, “Thank you, tell them I’ll just be another minute.”

“We’ll be heading out. It seems I need to— to re-examine some things. Dig a little deeper.” Before Brady could retrieve his card to offer it to the radio host, Alastor was handing him his.

“Call anytime, but word to the wise. Brenda will answer first.” Alastor let out a loud and singular ‘ha!’

He rose to walk them out and Brady extended his hand again for him to shake, his stomach curdling at the touch. When the detective squeezed and shook his hand so hard his arm was moving up to the elbow he just laughed. He kept his own grip loose.

The limp and slender hand in his was disappointing. A final nail in his coffin, soft metal bending as it was struck.

Freeman smiled and hopped up, “Been a pleasure!”

Alastor took back his hand from Brady and wiped it off against his vest as soon as the men were turned around.

“Apologies for the disturbance, ma’am.” Brady kept his gaze down as he passed Brenda. Freeman set his card on her desk as he walked past.

“That’s a bunch of applesauce.” She hissed, refusing to stand.

Alastor’s mother taught him many things. Of this world and the other. Of the spirits always roaming and waiting. Of blue ceilings and birds hitting windows.

She warned him of people with heaviness,  people who gathered bad energy like rain on a flat roof. That weight attracted likewise things. A gravity would form and pull in more and more darkness. 

You’d mentioned a storm, and now Alastor was hearing that drip drip drip of the cracking roof. 

He’d been taught to steer clear of those people with that darkness, because you don’t want to be there when the roof caved in. 

She’d likened it to the sword of Damocles, don’t be so close you get cut when the blade finally drops. Don’t become collateral damage. 

When his skin touched Brady’s, he felt that heaviness. The gravity. We’re you both slipping down the sloping pull of his swirling negativity?

He felt the urge to spit, which was uncouth and unlike him. Brenda was talking loudly to him but she was deep under the ocean and muffled perfectly well. His drunken mind had been wrong about many things, but one line of thinking had been on the money.

Something had to be done. An accident playing out in slow motion before him, threatening to take you both down with it. 

A chill, insidious and violent made him turn on his heels and shut the door with force. There it was again, that fight or flight feeling. Twice in nearly as many days. Never did Alastor feel insecure in situations of life or death, not literal life or death that was. He didn’t care about dying. 

The thought of losing you was that first trigger, but what was causing this one? What was his gut trying to warn him about now?

Distance was needed. He needed to get as far from that detective and his gravitational pull as possible. Perhaps not physically, but in every other sense. There was safety in that, he could feel it just over the disorienting whirl of fear. 

If fear was a lark in his chest it’s little spine cracked and popped as it grew and mutated into a rageful osprey, anger opening his lungs and sinuses as blood rushed with renewed vigor. This was Brady’s fault, entirely. He was ruining everything. Alastor finally had what felt like all of the thj he wanted and deserved (anger dampening his usual insecurity of what was meant for him) and Brady was going to tear it apart. 

There was a struggle to decide how to proceed. He thought perhaps telling you would bring him clarity, but if you asked him to not do anything at all he couldn’t be sure he’d be able to stop from lying to your face about his intentions. 

A flash of confidence knowing he’d never lied to you died quickly, oh, he had lied to you. He’d lied to you in the alley before leaving to prepare to kill Tommy. He’d said it was the greater good of the community. A stain on his otherwise pristine morality when it came to you. 

“How could they?”

Alastor’s head popped up, Brenda had opened his door unannounced and continued her raving. 

“How could who do what?” He asked, smile small.

“Those detectives! Accuse you of debauchery!” 

He imagined telling her how his morning started, fucking the nude dancer against his bedroom wall, arleady shacking up out of wedlock. Maybe it’d kill Brenda? That’d be convenient. 

“I wonder if they are even real cops…I promise, I won’t let that nonsense back into this office, Alastor.” She gave him a thumbs up and left, leaving the door ajar. 

Daylight was already creeping away sooner and sooner as the seasons began to change. The first day Alastor was gone and you were completely alone in his home for an extended period of time was passed in an awkward boredom. There wasn’t much to do…his house was kept tidy, food didn’t take much time, and you had no means to get into town. So you listened through his record collection, carefully turning the vinyls over with delicate fingers. You’d heard oils from your hand could ruin the grooves. No idea if that was true, but you couldn’t risk it. Alastor’s job kept relatively regular hours, so when you knew he had most likely left work you headed out front to wait. It was a foreign thing to do, and a little embarrassing. Dogs waited for their masters to come home. You stuffed the comparison down, knowing you were once again comparing apples to oranges. Worse than that, dogs to yourself. 

“Welcome home!” You waited for the car door to close before greeting him, worrying over the timing. He froze between the car and the wooden steps. You stopped your swinging on the porch swing, noticing how odd it was to see someone completely still like that. You remembered the deer along the road. “What’s wrong?”

Every thought flew out his head and into the early setting sun. An odd deja vu came over him. He hadn’t heard those words in literal years. “No one has said that to me…since my mother died.”

Oh. 

Oh. That was….sad. You grimaced. “Should I not say it then?”

“No!” He came to life, “I mean, yes. No, You should say it. If you want. It’s nice.” Staccato sentences as he took the three steps in just two. He leaned over on a novel instinct for a kiss, and you leaned up to meet him. 

Another moment as you parted and both of you realized how odd the situation was. The killer and his dancer playing house. For a brief second, maybe heaven mistook you for something normal and good. When you smiled, trying to not say the obvious as you always did, he decided to not mention Brady. His first night coming home to you shouldn’t have to compete with that news. Tomorrow, he decided. He’d just….leave out which day Brady had stopped by. Not a lie, just an excluded, superfluous detail.

As you ate your dinner and he recounted his day, you made a decision of your own. 

“Hey, Saturday, can you drop me off downtown for a bit? I need to change my shoes and do a little shopping.”

You needed the gift, to set the mood for your confession. You’d survived your first fight, you didn’t combust into a ball of fire when you kissed him goodbye for work, it made sense to do it now. 

“Oh, did you want company? I don’t mind going out.” His little smile made it hard to deny him.

“Ah well, my friend is still staying over at my place and she may get uneasy with a man around. And my shopping….is at the kind of places men shouldn’t go. Frilly lacy places.” A terrible liar. “You should do something fun for Alastor! I’ll be maybe…four hours or so.”

He chewed slowly, since the misunderstanding he was a little more nervous than usual. You didn’t want him to join you, were you worried Brady would see? He shook his head, confusing you.

“...excuse me?” You laughed, “No?”

His head popped up, he still sometimes forgot you were right there and not on a phone, “Sorry, I was thinking about what to do with myself. No problem, sweetheart. You can just call me when you’re ready and I’ll head back into town. I’ll stick around the house, get some stuff ready for winter.”

“Perfect!” Perfect. 

So it was decided. He would tell you tomorrow that Brady came by his office. And you’d tell him Saturday that you were in love with him. 

That was the short lived plan. He couldn’t manage to wait. When the silence of the night settled and you had turned over to try and fall asleep, he broke. 

“I really hate keeping secrets from you.” His fingers were pulling and pushing at the edge of the blanket. 

You have secrets? You turned around and sat up. 

“Brady and his partner came by today to my office, like you’d expected. I didn’t want to ruin our day, knowing how rarely we will live traditionally. But it’s just bothering the hell out of me.” His hands came to cover his cheeks and crawl into his hair out of stress. An overreaction, the weekend having truly discombobulated the man. 

A beat of confusion, tense for Alastor but void of anything for you, until you burst into a relaxed laughter, “You’re ridiculous. You were really eaten up huh?”

“It isn’t funny!”

“It’s a litlte funny.” you pulled his head down onto your lap, “You coulda told me. It doesn't ruin anything. I told you he was going to look for you. I didn’t think he’d do it the next business day, but still.” He shifted his body to lie on his side and let you take off his glasses and set them on your side table. “Do you think he still suspects you?”

He thought about it. A little.

Maybe.

Brady seemed dejected when he had left, but he could see the wheels turning in his head as he was still searching for a way to make this puzzle pieces fit. 

“Probably. His partner seemed to believe me. A listener, it turns out.” Alastor pouted, still upset at your laughter. 

“That’s hilarious. I bet it pissed him off to no end, right?”

“He looked shocked. It was difficult to not laugh.” He let his legs fall off the side of the bed so he could turn onto his back and look up at you. “I told him you were a fling, that I had my fun and then disappeared because you were trouble. I said nude dancers getting beat up should be expected. I don’t mean that.”

“Of course you don’t. I remember your face when you saw through my makeup. Sure didn't look expected to me.”

His legs drew up, knees pressed together. “Was it still a good day?”

“You told me what was on your mind instead of driving yourself mad about it. It was a perfect day.” The open window let in enough light to see his stress melt away from the corner of his eyes. 

He sat up and kissed your nose, “Thank you. You can sleep now.”

“Oh, I've been asleep the whole time. You’re gonna have to do this all again in the morning.”

“That’s not funny.” 

You kissed his cheek and he smiled away the frown before settling back onto his side of the bed to earnestly sleep.

Flowers, you thought. You should buy flowers on Saturday, too. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor nerves hadn’t settled yet, even if he slept well beside you. Every day he came home and you were still there felt like he’d been holding his breath the entire drive. During lunch he’d call the house so you could talk and eat together, in a sense. The conversation eased him, a confirmation you still liked him. An embarrassing fear he couldn’t let you on to. 

He didn’t understand you spent the week calling record shops in search of something specific. Plotting exactly how you’d do it. You’d mastered the phonograph in the room beside the kitchen and found an old vase in the back of the cupboard. 

The panic didn’t settle for you either though. It just shifted to the confession from Brady. As if through osmosis, Brady was now Alastor’s main concern as soon as their hands shook. You were less scared, as he really did seem to be dismissed by his colleague from what you saw. Dejected and forlorn from what Alastor had described. 

Alastor was honest with you that he left work early to check on Brady midweek. He was practically dancing through the kitchen when he reported Brady went home on time for the first night in what could have been weeks. And he did so looking like shit.

And he felt like shit. When they left the radio station, Freeman gave him the silent treatment the entire ride back to work. He opened his mouth to offer an alternative theory, perhaps you or Alastor had a brother, but Freeman immediately shut him down.

“Stop. Enough.” He snapped from his desk. “It is over, Kenny. Let it go. Maybe some monster is out there doing all this crazy shit you think they are but it’s not this man nor this lady so just fucking drop it.”

He sat quietly the rest of the work day, thinking over everything again. It still felt right, but Alastor didn’t look right. Maybe it was a group, some new gang in town. Perhaps Alastor had some business with them. 

Staring at his neatly folded map of downtown, his fingers slid over the last known locations of the various missing people over the past year. 

Is downtown just inherently dangerous, he wondered. He supposed the map lined up with the jazz scene, and where there is dance and liquor there’s crime.

He went home to his wife and startled her with his promptness. While she was elated, he felt hollow. Purposeless. Freeman had warned him he’d invented this conspiracy to make work more interesting. Maybe that was right. Life was boring. Everything was so steady and stable. Nothing exciting anymore. It’s possible. He could have imagined a connection. 

But his wife accidentally stoked the dying flame of his suspicions. 

When he told her everything, about Alastor and the dancer he chased down and the missing Tommy, she hummed. 

“He could be like that Holmes man in Chicago.” She smiled from across the meat and potatoes she’d slow cooked over the day.

Brady asked what she meant. 

“He killed all these people at his hotel. On the outside he was a very fine looking man! Respected doctor, or something.” She took her time to chew, leaving Brady waiting for the point, “Turns out his hotel had some secret dungeon where he killed people. I’m fuzzy on the details, but, he hung for it. Maybe your guy has a secret room in his house or a cabin in the woods.”

He would have kissed her but he was too tired to move. As she continued on, changing to the topic of novels and then movies, he pushed the potatoes around his plate. 

No way work would listen to him if he suggested it. He’d lost all of his goodwill. But, as a citizen, he could maybe just….look into the public records for the radio man. Any convenient structures he owned. No one needed to know, no embarrassment if he was wrong again.

Just, one more check. To be absolutely sure. For his peace of mind. 

“So he murdered the actress for threatening to reveal he was only half white! It was a real shock. I swear talkies just get more and more intriguing.” She beamed sweetly across the table, happy to have him home, “By Hitchcock. Isn’t that a hoot?”

He nodded absentmindedly, “Sounds fun, dear.”

She let the misplaced comment go, and moved to turn on the radio. Something to fill the silence. She wondered if her favorite program was on, though it was a little late for that. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The day finally came, your highly anticipated and scheduled confession. Saturday morning you slipped on your shoes, pushing back thoughts of everything they’d seen, and slid into the car. You had a game plan. Apartment, get your stash and change out your shoes. Head to the phonograph shop on Calliope and grab the record. Flower shop, something bright and fragrant. Stop by the theater for a bottle of whatever they were willing to part with. Call him from there to pick you up behind the building.

Flawless.

Honestly, the easy part.

Alastor dropped you off in front of your building and you kissed him hurriedly. You didn’t need Ephi bounding down the steps and introducing herself. 

You didn’t need Ephi, full stop.

“I’ll call you from the theater so I can wait inside. Lo-,” Your mouth opened to say it, as you’d been practicing it in your head all week, “Lucky me I’m still welcome there.” A quick save.

You waved him off and bounded up the steps. Ephi answered when you knocked, hair disheveled and still wearing the dress she must have worn out the night before.

A familiar dress.

“Who said you could wear my clothes?!” You kicked the door closed behind you.

Ephi fell back onto your bed with a creaking of the metal springs, “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

Barely a second into the room and you were already reeling with anger. What a skill she had.

Shoes off, you threw them on top of the closet out of her natural reach and searched for something flatter. Not too flat though. Alastor always looked too good for you to look like you didn’t care for what was fashionable.

Deep breaths, you grabbed the dresser with both hands and wretched it from the wall, startling Ephi back awake.

“What the fuck? Are you taking the furniture?! It’s a fucking dress.”

Relief as you saw the handkerchief still taped to the backboard of the shelf. Ripping it off, you shoved it into your bag. No need to count it, had Ephi found the cash the entire thing would be gone already. 

“Are you hiding money around your apartment…,” it wasn’t a question so much as an oddly worded accusation.

Your march to the door paused, briefly entertaining carrying your remaining clothes around with you but abandoning the idea. Let her borrow them for now, you were busy today.

You were gone without a goodbye, anger simmering away and evaporating with every block. 

As the distance between your problem and you became greater, the gap was closing in on Alastor and his.

He was in the kitchen splashing his face with water,  dusty from sweeping the porch, when he heard a car door slam shut. Not a normal sound for him to hear. Even more out of place than a ‘welcome home’. A moment of concern as he quickly dried his hands, maybe you had gotten a ride home already. It was possible he missed your call, but he’d kept the windows open to hear the phone. 

When he came to the front door, no one was there. A car was parked a ways behind his own though. Alastor stepped out and looked around the wrap around porch before turning back and going to the back door. Past the stairs and the kitchen doorway, he could see the shape of a man. He was standing in front of the greenhouse with both hands on his hips, staring at it. Bright hair reflecting the sun.

The screen door whined as Alastor opened it, announcing him much sooner than he had wanted. It was finally happening. The moment that was both inevitable and fiercely guarded against. 

“Census information is quite easy to find with a name like yours.”

Alastor tried to muster a hospitable smile, “Detective Brady. To what do I owe the sudden visit?”

Brady turned around and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, “I need to go get a warrant?”

The air between them tightened. “Not at all, did you want to come inside?” 

Brady nodded, a smug smile and a wink, “Sure do.”

Alastor returned to the kitchen for the key, grabbing a small paring knife and placing it in the back pocket of his slacks. Sharp and quick. 

“Wasn’t expecting guests…,” he admitted as he came back down the clean steps. He was never expecting guests, but he had been expecting this. 

“Good.” Brady clapped his hands together, “Quite the building ya got here.” He followed Alastor in and immediately looked up to the tall ceiling. “An uncommon thing to have. Only seen them at real fancy public places.”

Alastor turned right, following the winding path of busy shelves and potted trees with a practiced ease. Brady watched him slip between two large plants and hesitated.

With a hand on his gun, be pushed through.

“Ya know what my wife and I were just talking about?” He followed close behind. He couldn’t see Alastor but he could hear the leaves rustling. “H. H. Holmes.”

“Another missing manager?” Alastor asked from the other side of some crowded shelves.

“It’s thought he killed 9 people up in Chicago.” Brady emerged from the makeshift jungle to see Alastor standing in the center. 

“Busy man!” Alastor stood with his hands behind his back, sheathed in his pockets. “This is where the magic happens!” He nodded to the stainless steel table. “My gardening space.”

Brady looked at the table, then up to the high ceilings again. He took a step toward the table and crouched down.

His heels sunk in. Standing, he pressed his shoe in the soil around the table. Backing off he then tested the ground some feet away. It was noticeably firmer. “Ground sure is soft over there.”

“Water! Turns out plants love the stuff. Who knew!” Alastor’s fingers curled around the knife’s handle, “I prune, propagate, and repot them here and rinse it off after. Due to the shade of the table, the ground tends to stay wet longer.” He wondered if Brady had told anyone where he was. Maybe Freeman? 

The whole thing could be expedited by letting him bleed out on the greenhouse floor. Just a few swipes and this could all be over. He could maybe even have him gone before you called. 

Another little secret. Just one. Brady’s life was an insignificant detail.

Plausible, the detective thought. Brady examined the floor closer, unaware of Alastor’s eyes locked on his neck. He didn’t see much of a soft spot. It’d be improbable to bury all the bodies in such a small space. He’d have to dig too deep. 

“So you actually do like to garden?” He asked.

Alastor laughed, “No, that was a lie. This is all meticulously maintained for aesthetics.” 

Brady’s own laugh was dry in reply, the joke not funny or appreciated, “Night gardening?” He pointed his chin up to the light hanging above them.

“I prefer early mornings, before work.” Alastor leaned back on his heels, he’d waited for this conversation for years. It was almost fun. Brady didn’t know how predictable his arrival had been on some vague level.

Brady nodded and motioned for Alastor to lead him out. He didn’t want the man behind him.

As they snaked their way out again, Alastor fought the sickening feeling in his stomach to just do it. 

But he’d never acted quite so impulsively. He normally had a few hours to think it out beforehand. 

He’d been thinking this out for months now in a way, though, hadn’t he?

Alastor locked the door after Brady stepped out and Brady looked around the land. He couldn’t see any fences, but saw on his way in just how spread out the other homes were. 

“How far is the property line, if you don’t mind me asking? Seems to be quite a large parcel.” He had a rough idea from the paperwork he’d found. 

“It’s about 15 acres, from what I recall.” It was exactly 14.2 acres according to the paperwork. He knew every step by heart. 

As he watched Brady eye the land with a dismissive glance, he realized he’d never killed anyone at his home. It didn’t seem to be a good idea. Like they’d taint the land. Plus, killing the cop in the backyard was about as opposite of what you’d asked of him as he could get. 

The detective slapped his notebook against his palm and whistled, “Radio pays well, huh?”

“Better than a detective, maybe. But this was all my mother’s land.” He said it with pride, one hand leaving his pocket to gesture at the house and beyond. 

“Your mother. And she… how exactly did someone like her get her hands on a plot like this?” Brady squinted at the tree line, knowing full well how he said it. “Quite a bit of land for someone of her… background.” He quickly turned his full body to Alastor, “You see that movie, ‘Murder!’, by Hitchcock? My wife was saying how interesting it was over dinner the other night. Your receptionist mentioned you like the movies.”

Alastor bristled, he’d seen the film and picked up the tone being taken,  “Did you want to see anything else, Kenneth? Or did you drive all the way here to quiz me on your wife's morbid interests?”

“Detective Brady.” He corrected. 

“Maybe in the Orleans parish.” Alastor took a step toward him. He reveled in the confused expression Brady made. “Oh you didn’t realize when you crossed the lake? This is St. Tammany. You’re out of jurisdiction.” Another step. “So I’ll call you whatever I damn well please.”

Brady finally noticed the dwindling space between them and the shadow of the house creeping over Alastor’s face. “Maybe I should head out and get that warrant.”

Alastor’s arms went out in a shrug, “Ah, well, good luck finding a judge to approve you harassing a law abiding land owner for…what exactly? A drugged out criminal who stopped showing up to work? Forgive me for not holding my breath. Now kindly get the fuck off my mother’s property. “  

Brady shook his head, not able to do much more. He couldn’t process the truth in what Alastor had said. “Have a good day, Alastor.”

“And you have a safe night, Kenneth.”

Brady stopped, hand curling into a fist that Alastor didn’t fail to notice. 

“Is that some kind of threat?” It was the way he dragged out the two words. The gleeful range in which he said them. 

“Not at all. A warning really, there’s been some unhinged man harassing dancers lately. Demanding their private information, accusing them of silly crimes. Has the station not heard?” Alastor’s finger came to his chin inquisitively, “Perhaps I should give them a call. Who was your boss again. Freeman, was it?”

Brady felt his stomach drop, “What did you say.” If Alastor hadn’t been with you since before the assault, how did he know that Brady had been struggling to track you down?

“As a man about town who runs in important circles, word travels fast of bothersome people. Helps us learn where to avoid.”

Brady was still holding onto hope that Alastor was your man but now, his throat ran dry. He got more than that.

A man who ran in various circles of the nightlife scene. 

A man above the fray, a position afforded to him by the respect of his job.

A man people talked to often, therefore a man people saw everywhere. So it was never odd that he was always in the places where people went missing. He was ubiquitous. Where the jazz played, Alastor was there. 

A man with no wife to complain so his nights were free. 

A large piece of land. A chip on his shoulder. 

“You son of a bitch…I didn’t tell you Tommy had been involved in drugs. I was right.” The sentence got quieter and softer as he trailed on until he could only whisper, “You killed him.”

Alastor watched the color drain from Brady’s face as the realization hit, but the ‘son’ comment blanketed his frontal cortex and dampened impulse control, “On second thought; yes.”

It was just an expression, son of a bitch, but it’d been the wrong one to use so carelessly. Alastor’s heart was pounding in his ears and behind his eyes.

The detective kept his gaze locked on Alastor as he fished out his keys. His hand shook violently as he tried to get the car door key in his fingers. “Yes what?” Glancing down for a fraction of a second to check he had the right one. 

“That was a threat.”

Alastor’s hand twitched, he fought the rage bubbling up his throat. His vision was beginning to turn red around the edges. He could hear Aubrey squeaking out the first syllable of that damn word just behind his left ear.

Perhaps he was the blade hanging over Brady’s head. 

With even paces he walked over to the stump where he chopped wood and pulled the axe out, “Ya know! Something about you makes my fucking skin crawl.” He pointed it at Brady, the detective taking note of the arm strength needed to hold the unevenly heavy tool steady and parallel to the ground. “I do hope for your sake this is our final meeting. You should leave now.” His head titled to the left, “And keep your nose clean, Kenneth. It’s a dangerous time for bad men in New Orleans.”

Brady walked backwards to his car as Alastor advanced briskly with the blade still raised. When they reached the front porch Brady turned and booked it, glancing behind to see Alastor standing beside the porch on foot worn grass.

As the car started Alastor dropped the axe until it’s flat top of the blade rested on the ground and he leaned his weight onto it akin to a cane. His free hand’s fingers waved goodbye before dropping down to his side limply. He stood there with eyes fixed and body still as a predator waiting for its opportunity. How many gators had Brady watched from the shore with just that look? He peeled out, sight unseen as he blindly backed onto the unpaved road, and made a beeline to the nearest phone. 

He had to tell someone. He was right. He had been right the whole time. Alastor killed Tommy Dupre. And there was no doubt in Brady’s swirling mind that you knew that fact. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Graven Hearts

After being unofficially banished from the Mourn Watch, rebellious Lisbette must recruit one of her former professors, Emmrich Volkarin, to help her defeat two ancient Elvhen gods. Hurt that her favourite professor never stood up for her when she needed him, Lisbette takes delight in provoking the handsome, silver-haired necromancer, perhaps enjoying herself a little too much.

Female Rook | Age Difference | Daddy vibes | low key bratting | Hurt/Comfort | Eventual Smut

Start with Chapter One

Chapter Four (NSFW)

Taash, Emmeric and Lisbette are exploring the ruins of a Warden castle in Rivain, chasing ghosts down corridors and attempting to raise various portcullises. Every time Taash looks in another direction, Lisbette squeezes Emmrich’s hand, or Emmrich strokes a knuckle softly down her spine, making her shiver in pleasure.

It’s been three days since they shared a kiss in his rooms. She’d practically launched herself at him, unable to help herself when he’d been so deliciously stern with her, and he’d opened his arms to her. Lisbette wondered if he would become flustered by her forwardness, but the professor wasn’t flustered in the slightest. She’d thrown him off balance when she’d sat in his lap that first day, but perhaps he is getting to know her better, and understands how she longs to provoke him, and so won’t allow it.

Or perhaps he enjoys it when she kisses him. It certainly seems that way. 

Lisbette finds her former professor hard to resist when she feels his admiring glances everywhere she goes. Has she always had a crush on him on some level? She’d always looked forward to his classes and listening to his voice. His demonstrations were the most skilled and entrancing she’d ever seen as a young Mourn Watcher, and now watching him fight in battle, he was magnificent. Surprisingly swift and deadly for a man who enthuses, ‘Is it time for a cup of tea?’ and talks fondly to any wisps they come across. 

As Taash goes on ahead, Emmrich grasps Lisbette’s hand and tugs her into an alcove for a kiss. 

‘Emmrich, not that I want you to stop, but you seemed so angry with me just a few days ago. I practically told you to get out. Now we’re kissing. I know I started it, but...’

‘Did you start it?’ he asks with a smile. ‘As I remember you were asking your former professor for feedback, and I told you I had a present for you.’

She kisses him again. ‘I still haven’t got that present. But for the record, I take back being so harsh and implying I don’t want you on the team.’ 

‘And I regret judging you so harshly for your approach with the First Warden, and your reluctance about speaking with the Mourn Watch.’ 

The kiss quickly becomes heated, her back against a wall as he presses into her, her mouth opening for his tongue. Enough talking. She wants to be kissed, and kiss her he did.  

Lisbette feels a fierce ache between her legs. Just kissing him isn’t enough anymore. 

‘Please, when we get back to the Lighthouse tonight...’ She twines her arms around his neck and plays with his hair. 

‘What Lisbette?’

‘Please can we...’ More kisses. ‘I need...’

‘ Emmrich. Rook. ’ Taash is calling for them. They can hear them walking up and down a walkway overhead.  

Emmrich pushes his fingers between Lisbette’s thighs and rubs her sex through her clothes, his tongue moving with similar pressure against hers. 

Lisbette’s eyes close, and she holds onto the lapels of his jacket so her knees don’t buckle. ‘Oh, gods. Fuck .’

‘I want to taste you,’ he breathes into her ear. He kisses her a final time, straightens his jacket, and strolls out into the courtyard, as casual as can be. 

‘Ah! There you are, Taash. We got turned around. Lisbette’s here somewhere.’

Lisbette presses the backs of her fingers against her hot cheeks. Emmrich wants to taste her. Did he mean...? Gods. How is she meant to survive the rest of the day after hearing that? 

--

Lisbette closes the door to Emmrich’s room and plasters her back against it. 

Emmrich looks up from where he’s working at his desk, and gets to his feet. ‘My dear?’

‘Everyone’s looking for me. They all want something.’ Lisbette runs to him and throws her arms around his neck. She would much rather be in here kissing Emmrich. 

‘Ah, so you thought you’d hide in here with me?’ he says with a smile. 

She thought she might give him an opportunity to show her what he meant by I want to taste you , not that she was going to say that out loud. She’s too shy. There’s his bed upstairs, and she wishes he would take her by the hand and lead her up there. 

His hands roam over her, stroking her jaw and her throat. Squeezing her waist. Then his thumb swipes over her nipple, and she moans into his mouth. 

‘You make the loveliest sounds,’ he whispers. 

‘I can make more,’ she says, gazing at him through her lashes.

Take the hint, Emmrich. 

He does take the hint, hooking his finger into her blouse and slowly unbuttoning it. Her underclothes are nothing special, and she wishes she had coin and the time for shopping for something a bit more alluring. They don’t seem to bother Emmrich as he unlaces her top and casts it aside.

‘Aren’t you pretty?’ he murmurs, and sucks first one of her nipples into his mouth, and then the other.

Lisbette has to grip his desk with both hands to stay upright. 

Gasping slightly as she watches him, she notices that his rather tight pants are growing even tighter.

Lightly, she strokes her fingers along his length through his clothes and is pleased when his breathing grows heavier. 

Emmrich runs a finger around the inside of her waistband, pauses to look at her, and then undoes her pants. 

On the desk? she wonders. 

Apparently yes, on the desk. Oh, professor. 

He pushes her back and pulls off her pants, underwear, and shoes, and then leans over her, kissing her throat, her breasts, her stomach, and then down to her...

Oh, yes. Definitely that kind of tasting. 

Lisbette’s eyes close and her head tips back as his tongue curls around her clit. Her thighs hug his shoulders. She scratches her nails through his soft hair. 

He pushes two fingers inside her, her tight heat closing around his fingers and rings and squeezing his flesh. 

Emmrich can feel her nails digging into his shoulders, impatient for more, but he takes his time with her, slowing down the more urgent she is, just to show her she can’t have everything she wants as soon as she wants it. 

But it will feel good just the same. He finds the spot inside her that’s the most sensitive and rubs it firmly. 

Lisbette moans loudly, and then sits up, grasps his shoulders and pulls him closer, gasping, ‘Fuck me or I’ll die.’

Dramatic? Possibly. 

Irresistible? Certainly. 

Lisbette reaches for his pants, but he captures her hands and pushes her face first down over his desk, her ass pressing against his thighs and her curls tumbling over the desktop.

‘Comfortable?’ he asks her, one hand gripping her wrist and pinning it down. 

‘Dying,’ she pants, her eyes half closed. ‘Please, Emmrich.’

He smiles to himself. One handed, he undoes his pants and frees his cock from the tight fabric. Lisbette is so wet as he draws the head of his cock up her sex to her entrance, and then slowly pushes inside.

Lisbette moans and arches her back in pleasure. She's been wound so tight and he's working his way through all that, burning down all her stress.

The sharp thrusts of his cock are making her see explosions of stars behind her eyes. Her insides were tightening deliciously, and every time he bottomed out inside of her she was pushed a little closer to her peak.

Locks of Emmrich’s hair is falling into his eyes, but he has both hands full of Lisbette’s hips. Her wetness is shining on his length and he can barely look away from watching himself thrusting into her. There are freckles all over her back. Her waist curves so alluringly. Her cries are throaty with pleasure. There’s too much to enjoy at once. He can’t cope. He needs this more and more, forever. 

Lisbette is so loud that people must figure out where she is, and that she’s not coming out any time soon. 

Her nails dig into his desk. Her back arches. She comes with a ragged cry and he quickly follows her, thrusting harder, completely letting go.

In the stillness afterwards, both of them are breathing hard. Emmrich traces a finger down her spine, admiring her bones. 

‘You are beautiful, sweet Lisbette.’

‘You’re too good to me.'

‘Just good enough. I wouldn’t want to spoil you,’ he says with a smile. He does want to spoil her. Spoil her completely rotten, and he probably will. 

‘I wish I could stay here with you. I suppose people are still looking for me. I should go out there,’ she mutters without much enthusiasm. 

Emmrich pulls out of her and helps her up to sitting. ‘I think they might know where you are. You weren’t quiet, dearest.’

‘Oh, no.’ Lisbette covers her face. She looks so adorable sitting naked on his desk with her hair in a riot around her. She peeps through her fingers and smiles at him. ‘Sorry.’

He draws her chin up and smooths the curls back from her face. ‘I shall easily weather their teasing. Smile for me?’

She does.

‘Good girl.’ He presses a kiss to her lips. ‘Stay here and get dressed. Take your time. Drink some water. I will go out there and they may get all their ribald comments out of their systems on me.’

‘Really?’ she asks, gazing up at him with big green eyes. 

He looks at her in surprise. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I?’ 

‘I thought I would have to...I’m not used to someone...’ Words seem to fail her. 

‘What, Lisbette?’ 

She tries again. ‘That’s so kind of you. Thank you, Emmrich.’

The simplest courtesy made her lost for words. It made his heart ache. The Mourn Watch wasn’t a cruel or uncaring place. At least, to him it hadn’t been, but perhaps it had been harder on Lisbette, or perhaps the hard work and poverty of his youth was much further behind him than it was for her.

‘You’re welcome, dearest,’ he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. ‘Take your time.’

Emmrich leaves his room and finds the library deserted. Everyone has gathered in the kitchen, and they stop talking and stare as soon as he appears. Neve looks amused. Bellara is blushing and looking at her feet. Davrin has his arms folded and is scowling. 

Emmrich meets all their stares with a charming smile, and says cheerfully, ’You all have five minutes to say whatever jokes and silly comments you wish to make to me, but if you even look the wrong way at Lisbette, I will raise several dead and send them into your bedroom as you sleep. All right?’

 --

The following morning Lisbette knocks on Emmrich’s door holding two cups of tea. He opens it and smiles when he sees her stand there.

‘Tea? How thoughtful dearest. Do come in.’

‘It’s thank you tea,’ she tells him, following him into the room. ‘No one said a peep to me last night after, ah, I was a little noisy. Either you talked them out of teasing me or maybe they didn’t notice what we were up to after all.’

‘Perhaps they didn’t notice,’ Emmrich lies smoothly. He presses a kiss to Lisbette’s lips. ‘I’m glad you’re here as there’s something I want to ask you. I intend to visit the Necropolis today and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.’

Lisbette looks pained. ‘Emmeric...’

He holds up his hands. ‘I know. But there is the Mourn Watch, and then there is our respect for the dead. You no longer esteem the Mourn Watch, but I think you still esteem our dead. Am I right?’

‘You sound like my professor, not my lover.’

‘Dearest, I hope I sound like someone who cares that a fellow Nervarran has been cut off from her culture. These rituals we perform are as much for us as they are for our dead.’

Lisbette groans and buries her face in the front of his shirt. ‘Was this your plan all along, to seduce me into going back to the Necropolis?’

‘I can’t say that upon seeing you again I thought ah! My beautiful former student, I must convince her to perform rituals for the dead by bedding her as lovingly as I am able.’ 

‘Can’t you just bed me again, as you put it?’

‘Darling, you needn’t do anything if you don’t wish for it, but you should go if you miss it.’ He dips his voice lower. ‘And to indulge me, because I have always wanted to walk hand in hand with my lover through the memorial gardens.’ 

He’s been imagining it vividly all night, proudly showing off his beautiful girl to all the wisps and spirits. 

She looks up in surprise. ‘You never have?’

‘I have never had a Nevarran lover. Former flames of mine would not set foot in the place.’ He pauses. ‘How about you?’

‘Why, would you be jealous if I said yes?’ Lisbette teases.

Emmrich examines the rings on his fingers. ‘I am too old and jaded to be jealous. Envy is a young person’s emotion. Have you? Strolled hand in hand through the memorial gardens?’

She shakes her head. She’s barely had anyone that she might consider a lover. Certainly no one who cares for her as much as Emmrich does. 

He offers her his elbow with a smile. ‘Then allow me to escort you, dearest. The gardens are so beautiful this time of year.’

[wendigoruble]

Playtime: Oneshot

[This is like softcore af.. Like more than I intended it to be]

Franco had dressed himself in his freshly cleaned white pinstripe suit for tonight. No blood stains or dirt stains, fresh pressed and no wrinkles. On any other man it would look impeccable but it hangs loose against Franco's body. The sleeves and pant legs are just slightly too long, over hanging with lightly bunched fabric. For once he has the pristine coat buttoned up but only to hide the pacifier he keeps around neck at all times. It's pressed to his chest and he can feel the dull plastic edge rub against his purple dress shirt every time he moves his arms. It's a small discomfort but he'd found it a touch easier to pick up women with it concealed. He could never understand why that would turn someone off.

His gaze sweeps the area as he brings the glass of whiskey to his lips. The drink makes him internally cringe like a spoonful of medicine had been forced into his mouth. Even with its smoothness he doesn't like it, but the boniface refused to make him a wolf's milk and it's not like he can unstrap lupara from her holster and make the demand. Not tonight. He has personal business to attend to.

The club is packed with people wall to wall dancing to the soft jazz and murmuring among each other. Groups of friends chatter away close by and the odd couple are necking here and there.

Franco had himself seated at the bar. No one sits by him, no one attempts to go near him but he isn't concerned over that. People must really fear him. After all, he’s the button man for one of the largest mobs in the area (and he has his gun holstered across his back). Who would ever try to approach him unless they're looking to make a payment or there to gravel at his feet?

He takes another sip from his glass and holds it in his mouth before spitting it back out. How do people drink this stuff? It never feels right or tastes right, it's far too fluid. He turns to the bartender, about to complain, when someone catches his eye.

A woman is walking up to the bar and the very sight of her makes Franco feel warm. She has shoulder length black hair, long eyelashes, and a stern look about her smooth round face which is accented by pouty red lips. The black dress she wears shows off her shoulders and hugs her curves and well endowed chest. The fabric stops mid thigh and Franco's gaze travels all the way down to her shoes. Those black stiletto heels that click against the wooden floor really seals the deal. They make her at least three inches taller than him at that.

His heart is already thudding in excitement the closer she gets. He can barely hide his anticipation.

Before she even has a chance to talk to the bartender Franco is slipping off the barstool and placing his gloved hand on the counter in front of her. He stands too close and she seems little more than annoyed at him. Glaring down with the smallest hint of a sneer.

“Whatever the lady buys is on me.” He says while smiling up at her.

“Really?” She puts a hand on her hip before her sneer turns into a sly smirk,”Whatever I want?”

“Anything for a lady as beautiful as yourself.”

She seems to think for a moment, tilting her head up with judgment clear as day in her eyes. This little deformed looking man is offering to buy her drinks and she can see his plan from a mile away. It's pathetic in a very endearing way and she can read the glittery look in his pale blue eyes. A want, a joy barely contained with a crooked buck-toothed grin.

“Mmhm. What do you really want, kid?” She mocks.

Franco can feel that warmth growing inside when she spits at him like that. A coiling heat in his lower stomach springs to life. He has to swallow so he doesn't make a sound he'd regret. With a smooth exhale he tucks his hand into his jacket, ready to grab the money from the inside pocket. He never takes his eyes off her.

“Ain't yous a forward woman. I was just wonderin’ how much it'd cost to have an evening with ya.”

She very nearly laughs at him before seeing the thick stack of bills he's got pulled halfway out. She smiles, steps closer, grabs his wrist, and takes the money right out of his hand. She can hear an audible shaky exhale then and looks down to see him staring directly at her chest which is about as close to his face now as she can get without touching him.

“I think this should be enough.” She pushes him back by his shoulder.

“Wwhh.. Say, what's ya name?” Franco bites his bottom lip as he resteadies himself and rolls his shoulder. Normally he'd be pissed off should anyone touch him but he can make an exception this time.

“What would you like it to be?”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Ohhhh mutha!!” Franco cries out into the cold air of the motel room,”Baby's been bad!”

Tears are welling up in his eyes, his face is flushed and he holds his hands together tightly. Biting onto one of his thumbs in anticipation of the next firm smack against his bare skin. He jumps when that sweet sting of pain radiates out followed by a soothing rub. Oh his ass has to be red raw at this point. She's been at it so long he's bound to be bruised. Probably wont sit right for a week.

He dares pass a look back at his dear mommy for the evening. That sadistic joy glimmering in her eyes damn near makes him fawn all over again. What a good mommy she is. Breaking him down and making him cry, making him feel small and insignificant. Before he can even open his mouth to shower her with compliments he's spanked one last time. Tears slip over his cheeks as he moans and grinds against her thigh. Rolling his hips with a high pitched whine as his cock twitches and leaks pre that smears against her skin.

“Awhh is my baby boy having a good time?” She coos.

Franco can do little more than huff in response while he steadies himself.

She smooths over the bright red irritation with her palm. His skin is hot to the touch and she makes it a point to drag her nails across it before placing her other hand around his neck. Squeezing ever so slightly, urging him back and making him stand up so she can so delicately kiss his cheek. A red lipstick print is left behind. A mark he'd wear with pride should it never be washed away.

Her fingers curl around his throat and it's a welcome restraint. Franco leans into her hand enough to make his breathing hitch. She leads him down onto his knees. He stares at her with such adoration as she slots her leg between his. Pushing the point of her heel into his groin makes him visibly tremble. She applies further pressure with the toe of her shoe, pressing against his cock as he wraps both arms around her leg.

“You like that? Like playing with mommies shoes?”

Franco nods as he rests his cheek against her thigh and begins to rut on the sole of her stiletto. Pressing into it hard enough that it actually hurts. He gives her the most innocent look he can muster before faltering into a series of loud huffs and high pitched groans. He turns his head slightly and drags his tongue along her smooth skin before biting down hard enough to leave a bruise.

With an airy moan she rests back on her palms and watches with amusement as he pleasures himself with such vigor. She's happy his desperation is so evident because it makes it all the better when he pulls her leg away just before he cums. He's left on all fours just trembling and blushing with those big glassy eyes. Whimpering as precum drips from the tip of his irritated prick. He makes a move to grab her leg again but she leans up and smacks his hand away.

“Please..”

Again Franco reaches out to touch her only to be swatted back once more. She looks at him through half lidded eyes and with a firm tone she says,”Lay down.”

He obeys implicitly. Laying back on the floor despite any discomfort it gives him because it's worth it. It's worth it when she stands up and presses that heel into his chest. His gaze rolls up to see her dragging her hand up between her legs. His lips part with his tongue between his teeth only to have that heel then moved up to his neck, then his cheek. Forcing his head to the side so he can't look at her.

“Filthy baby boy aren't you?” She muses.

She doesn't get a response, she doesn't expect one. Especially not when she notices him beginning to stroke himself rapidly. For a moment she does consider stopping him again but he's so eager she allows him to finish. He cums on his lower stomach in thin white ropes before dragging his hand up through the mess.

“Guess you really are a filthy baby boy, hm?”

[toziers]

i am always punching above my weight in regards to people i flirt with and for some reason they continue to flirt back… even if it is meaningless its fun and i love being the meager little clown to all the pretty girls who give me the time of day