#[ I'm so sorry I was this slow replying to this

[honeymilkbeez]

DO IT FOR THE VLOG | g.clarke

summary : in which you vlogged a day in your life with george starring : george clarke x fem!reader content : established relationship | genre : fluff | warning : none a/n : hiii i’m here to hand deliver you my first george’s fic! sorry it took me a while to get it out but hope you enjoy it! let me know if you want similar to this sort of vibe!? as always, don’t forget to reblog and i’ll see you on my next fic! mwah xx

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yourusername just posted a video !

@YOURUSERNAME : grwm + cosy day in my life ft. my boyfriend, 10/10 toasties, & accidental chaos 🍓🧸🫧

225K views | 1 day ago 349 comments -------------------

the vlog opened with a soft, lo-fi beat rolling under warm-toned footage: sunlight slicing through the bedroom blinds, your bedside clock and strawberry scented lip balm laid neatly next to a half-burned candle, your robe draped messily over the arm of the chair and a glimpse of tangled sheets where george was still fast asleep - face half-buried in the pillow, loose curls dangled everywhere, mouth parted just slightly.

you whispered off-camera, "ok. good morning guys. he's still dead to the world, so we're starting without him,” as you panned toward the mattress. "exhibit a," you whispered as he snored once, loudly.

the camera then cuts toward you setting the lens down on the bathroom shelf and leaned into the mirror with damp skin and sleep-swollen eyes, a fluffy white towel wrapped around your chest, your hair clipped up in a loose bun. your voice came quiet and warm as you began your intro, hands waved lazily toward the reflected mirror.

"hello and good morning again, besties. welcome back to the channel - or if you're new here, i'm y/n, i romanticise everything and live with the human version of a golden retriever. today i am once again, starting the day before george wakes up because someone keeps stealing the duvet and snoring like a power drill."

then you blinked. once. twice. zoned out in your thoughts, "okay, real start to the day," you began, clasping your hand together. "today's vlog gonna be soft and slow as i'm taking you through a day in my life. it definitely involves a bit of me filming, editing, maybe a market run and dragging george out for a walk outside if he's brave enough to see sunlight. either way, i'm fresh out of the shower, and now i'm ready for my skincare routine."

you reached for your cleanser. rubbing it between your palms.

"also, if you hear any thuds, crashes, or suspicious cackling - the beast is awake."

as if on cue, there's a loud thunk came from your bedroom.

you blinked at the camera, deadpan. "there it is."

a second later, george shuffled into frame, still in his pyjama pants, shirtless and curls still slightly flattened from sleep. without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. his body was warm against your back, all sleep-heavy and needy.

"you're filming without me already?," he mumbled, nose pressing against the curve of your neck, letting out a dramatically lough sigh.

"i didn’t know you were conscious," you replied, not even turning around. “also you were snoring, very loud.”

“lies.”

“i literally got it on tape.”

he groaned, “you better edit that out…”

"i missed you," he murmured after a moment.

"george, we were literally asleep together twenty minutes ago."

he kissed your bare shoulder, "yeah, and it was a really long twenty minutes. but now you're glowy. and smell nice too. like that vanilla stuff."

"that’s called shower gel and effort."

"exactly. fresh. lovely. mine," as he tightened his hold and rocked you gently side to side, nose still nudged into your neck.

you chuckled and met his sleepy gaze in the mirror. "say good morning to the vlog."

he blinked once, then waved lazily at the camera, still half-asleep. "morning, besties. isn't she beautiful? and i am lucky enough that i get to wake up to this every day."

you flushed a little as you glanced toward the camera again, lips twitching as you tried to refocus. "so, anyways. i'm going to take you through my skincare routine- "

george lifted his head and cut in, "her skin's perfect already, by the way. just letting you know."

"george."

"she's glowing. this is unnecessary."

you turned your head just enough to give him a look. "babe, i love you. but i will eject you from the bathroom."

he smirked, eyes twinkling. "but i'm warm."

"and needy."

"and yours."

you groaned into a smile. "ok, ok, you can stay. just- can you stop kissing my neck while i'm trying to cleanse, please?"

"never, my love."

the camera caught everything - the blush creeping into your cheeks, the way george pressed a gentle kiss on the back of your ear, and the quiet smile that tugged at your lips even as you tried to get back on track.

you raised a cleanser bottle to the lens after washing off your face. "as i was saying before, this is the cerave hydrating cleanser - classic, boring, but she never lets me down. i use this every morning, preferably without distraction- "

george kissed your shoulder again, loud and on purpose. you tried not to laugh.

" -but clearly that's too much to ask."

the shot lingered for a few seconds as you both stood there, his arms around you, your body leaning back into him like muscle memory. the kind of moment that didn't need editing - soft, real, and so clearly yours.

he kissed your shoulder softly and mumbled, "i don't want to be known as a smelly boyfriend on the internet, so lemme join."

you handed him your other cleanser without a word. he squeezed it into his palm like muscle memory. you brushed your teeth together at the sink - him using your strawberry toothpaste, you stealing glances at his bedhead through the mirror. he kept bumping your hip every few seconds, like he couldn't stand not touching you.

"we do our skincare together every morning now", you told the camera, spitting gently into the sink. "it started by accident and then it became a thing. like soft domesticity. but with less aesthetic music and more fart jokes", you chuckled.

back in the bedroom, soft morning light spilled across the floor as you sat at your vanity. the camera was now on a low tripod, capturing you from the waist up, now focused on your hands as you layered your products: serum, moisturiser, then your go-to SPF.

"next up, the ordinary hyaluronic acid for hydration", you narrated, gently pressing it into your skin. "then my holy grail- la roche-posay sunscreen. non-negotiable. even when it's cloudy. even when george says 'we're just going to tesco'."

"and i stand by that", george said from the bed, now lying flat on his stomach, watching you with his chin resting on his crossed arms. "tesco is not a sunburn risk".

"you don't get sunburn", you said. "you're solar-powered".

"exactly. i need the damage."

you laughed, tapping your moisturiser onto your cheeks. "ok. light makeup today. i've got two videos to film, but nothing to heavy. we're going minimal."

you held up your base. "rare beauty skin tint, tiny bit of concealer, cream blush - i want to look like a peach but with just enough coverage to look alive, basically."

"alive and devastating," george said from the bed, stealing your claw clip and twisting into his curls like a crown.

you glance at him in the mirror. "can you not?"

he shrugs. "i'm accessorising. do it for the vlog y'know?"

you paused, tilting your head sideways to look at him. "what are you doing for the vlog?"

"giving them what they came for."

"which is?"

"me. shirtless. holding your lip gloss. whispering sweet nothings while you try to do your eyeliner."

you snorted, shaking your head as you continued on, bouncing your beauty blender along your jawline. george got up and wandered over behind you, his arms lazily slipping around your shoulders. his chin rested in your neck, lips brushing your ear.

"you always look like a peach by the way", he murmured. "sweet. soft. ripe."

i stared deadpan into the camera and let out a soft chuckle. "i live with this by the way."

"you love this. and me."

you shake your head fondly and lean back into him for just a second before nudging him off. "go get dressed. i need to do my mascara and eyeliners without being molested." '

george smirked as he leaned in to kiss your cheek right as you start on your mascara. you flinched with a loud, "GEORGE!"

"i warned you."

"do you want me to go blind?"

"for the vlog", he said seriously, then burst into a laugh. "it's content, babe."

you stare into the lens once again. "if you ever wonder why i never filmed get-ready-with-me videos anymore...this is exactly why. this is my life."

george kisses your cheek again. you let him this time as he leaves to get ready.

after managing your skincare and (mostly) peaceful makeup routine, the video cut to a cozy wide shot of the kitchen. the camera had been placed on the corner counter as the vlog capturing your breakfast moment: you moved in and out of frame making toast, slicing strawberries, lighting the candle you kept by the kettle. as for george, he well pressed up behind you like velcro, arms wrapped around your waist, swaying to lo-fi music playing from the kitchen speaker.

“george. honey, can you give me some space so i can make your toastie before i burn it?” you asks, trying to focus while he kisses the back of your neck.

“nope. never”, he says. “i’m in my golden retriever boyfriend era. you can’t stop me.”

“and by that you mean slow-dancing with me at 9am while i’m making toast?”

he grins against your skin. “exactly. vlog needs romance.”

“guys, if you couldn’t tell by now, george is the clingiest man alive”, you says into the camera, “who doesn’t know how to let go.”

“i let go last night”, he protests. “for like, an hour, while i was streaming with the boys,” he then squeezed your hips that made you yelped loudly.

“you literally texted me mid stream to say you missed me. chat clocked you on that since you couldn’t stop giggling the whole time.”

“and you replied.”

“…yeah.”

before you could even form your next sentence, george shuffled off to the side, pulled two mugs from the shelf and started on coffee.

"no idea what i'm doing," he mumbled quietly.

"yes, you do. you called yourself the coffee king, remember?"

you walked past him to get plates, and he caught your wrist mid-step, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

the camera panned to show the breakfast laid out - toast with almond butter and strawberries, coffee in mismatched mugs, the two of you standing at the counter nibbling quietly while the city hummed outside.

as you stirred your coffee that george had so kindly made, he whispered, “tastes sweeter when it’s shared,” before taking your mug and sipping it himself.

you shot him a look.

“what?” he grinned. “we’re married in everything but name.”

back in the bedroom, you had the camera angled toward your closet while you pulled out hangers and stared at your wardrobe like it personally offended you.

“i don’t know what to wear,” you said into the mic. “we’re going to tesco and then maybe to the market, but like… i want to look cute and not too overdressed.”

george peeked his head in from the door frame while eating the last of your toast. “wear that cute jeans you just bought last week and that hoodie that you keep stealing from me,” he mumbled with a mouth full.

you narrowed your eyes. “first of all, don’t speak with your mouth full of food dude. that’s gross. and secondly, that hoodie is mine now.”

“can you believe she just called me dude?” he baffled and all you could do was letting out a soft laugh before turning around and pecked his lips teasingly.

you picked the outfit he suggested - baby blue denim pants with bows on either side of the ankles, oversized hoodie, your favourite tote - and turned to give the camera a spin. “alright, stylist george in the building but now, we’re heading out.”

the vlog picked up again in the car - you filming soft footage through the passenger window, george driving with one hand on the wheel, the other draped loosely over your thigh.

he kept turning the music for his favourite bits, then turning it down again to point out dogs on the sidewalk or funny billboards.

at one point he looked over and said, “this is perfect.”

you raised a brow at him. “what is?”

he just shrugged. “you. me. groceries.”

in the store, he filmed you pushing the cart, adding random snacks when you weren’t looking, and narrating everything in a fake david attenborough voice. you tried not to laugh. failed.

“here we observe the rare, wild beauty in her natural habitat: near the hummus.”

“oh my gosh, stop.”

you then filmed a bit of the queue while he made up fake names for you under his breath. “tell the cashier you’re from an oat milk dynasty.”

back home, the camera was back on the shelf in the living room. pr boxes were stacked around you like cardboard towers, and you sat cross-legged on the rug with a pair of scissors and zero clue where to begin.

george flopped next to you, took the scissors, and immediately ripped open a box upside-down.

you stared at the pile of packaging peanuts now covering the floor. “seriously?”

“oopsie…!” he said with a grin.

each item became a bit — you showed the lip oil, he tried to apply it and missed your mouth; you lifted out a reed diffuser, he smelled the stick and pretended to faint. it was chaotic, but warm.

“this one’s vanilla. this one’s rose. this one smells like you after a shower.”

“you have to stop saying that,” you said, laughing.

“i’m promoting your brand,” he said innocently.

he passed you a body butter and whispered, “this one’s dangerous.”

you threw packaging at him until he flopped dramatically behind you and pulled you into his lap mid-filming.

the camera transitions in the next clips captured you tidying up the lounge after filing your pr boxes while george followed you around like a shadow. you vacuumed. he flopped onto the couch. you adjusted the cushions. he dramatically laid across them like a 19th-century poet.

“you’re meant to be helping,” you said.

“i am. i’m providing moral support.”

“you’re providing chaos.”

he jumped up and wrapped his arms around your waist again, swaying you side to side.

“alright, alright,” you laughed. “this is our cleaning routine now?”

he kissed the top of your head. “this is our forever routine.”

you rolled your eyes, smiling. “do it for the vlog?”

“do it for you,” he whispered.

as evening settled, you lit candles, filmed soft pans of the fairy lights glowing across the curtain rods, and captured the two of you barefoot in the kitchen again — this time making pasta. you stirred sauce, george grated cheese dramatically over your shoulder, and the camera caught every domestic flicker like you lived inside a movie.

you sat down with bowls in hand, side by side on the couch. george reached for your leg and pulled it across his lap like he always did, the blanket tangled around both of you.

the vlog closed with one final wide shot — the two of you bathed in candlelight, bowls empty on the table, your head resting on his shoulder as the soft sound of a movie played in the background.

george kissed your temple and whispered something you couldn’t hear.

you turned to face the camera one last time and smiled.

“alright,” you said quietly. “i think we’re going to end the vlog here. i hope this felt as soft and cozy to watch as it was to live. if you liked it, let me know below. otherwise, thanks for hanging out with us. good night besties, we’ll see you in the next video!”

you reached over, tapped the camera off, and everything fell into stillness — warm and quiet and golden.

and for the rest of the night, you stayed curled against him, your skin smelling faintly of moisturiser and candle smoke, your heart so full it ached in the best way.

and that was it — soft, quiet, full.

exactly the kind of day you always wanted to remember.

------------------- 📌 pinned by yourusername georgeclarkeey: didn't know i was signing up to be a full-time barista, outfit consultant, AND PR assistant but honestly? i'd do it again x • yourusername: you forgot cuddling supervisor and certified toast thief 💅 but yes you’re hired. permanent contract. no pay x user: i want what you two have. the brushing teeth together?? the outfit choosing?? pls 😭😭😭 ❤️ by yourusername user: why is george being obsessed with her literally the most healing thing i’ve ever seen?? user: petition for george to get his own ‘chaotic boyfriend PR unboxing’ segment in every vlog now. ❤️ by yourusername user: this vlog was just 20 minutes of serotonin and i’m obsessed. more pls. weekly vlog when?? 👀 user: not me smiling at the screen like an idiot the whole time 😭 i need more domestic vlogs pls • yourusername: coming soon xx user: you both cooking dinner together at the end??? too soft. i had to rewatch it with a blanket on • yourusername: that’s exactly the vibe 😌 comfort food + candlelight + someone stealing your garlic bread user: no bc this is what ‘soft life’ actually means. warm coffee, shared skincare, george being clingy. i love it here 🧸 ❤️ by yourusername user: george in the unboxing segment had me in TEARS 😭 give him his own channel atp • yourusername: me too bestie x

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↳ george and mr teddy wants you to watch my new vlog, out now on yourusername’s channel xx 💋🫶🏼

[shaysplanet]

Hi Shay, any advice for shifters who are scared of actually being in their DR? I daydream a lot in the 3rd person meaning I can "see" myself talking to people and doing things in my DR. But whenever I try to imagine what it would feel like to actually be present in my DR in the 1st person like in my CR, it always kinda freaks me out? Like wdym it'll be *ME* interacting with these people and not just a placeholder I'm watching in my imagination?? Ly ❤️

hey anon! sorry for such late reply i’ve been swamped with various other things.

here’s the thing: fear of being is really just fear of control. knowing that you’ll be fully immersed, fully aware, fully in it can feel freaky at first, because you’re taking control of your journey. you’re stepping into the role of experiencer instead of viewer.

but that fear isn’t a sign to pull back, it’s a sign that you’re close. your subconscious is registering this experience as real. so start slow. just dip your toes. say things like: “what would it feel like to brush my hair in my dr? to hear my name out loud? to look at my hands?” things that ground you. build comfort around shifting.

remember that your dr self is still you. and you already know how it feels to be you. you’re not becoming someone else. and so it will feel 100% natural. like you’ve always been. i want you to lean into that. tell yourself it’s safe. that you’ve always been safe and that can even be your primary affirmation while you shift. you’re allowed and worthy to experience something different than what this reality offers.

ly too <3

[vera-deville]

Lips Like Trouble, Eyes Like Yours

06/30/2025 - 07/02/2025

Pairing: Jamil Viper x Reader Word Count: 4,269 Warnings: PRETTY suggestive; the reader keeps making spicy jokes and stuff, and that's what started this whole fic Tags: @achy-boo, @savanaclaw1996, @qaxdea, @katzline Notes: This was originally going to be part of a 5 + 1 things fic, but I ended up writing the characters separately, and even though I started with Trey, I ended up finishing Jamil's fic first. Also, inspired by this post. Masterlist

Potionology with Professor Crewel was a class that you didn't actually mind attending - not because you were particularly good at it, but rather because you enjoyed watching the drama that unfolded when students inevitably blew something up. However, today, your source of entertainment sat directly beside you.

Jamil Viper.

Flawless posture, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms, and that sharp, aloof gaze focused on the cauldron like the fate of the world rested on getting the temperature just right. He moved like someone born into precision - deliberate, practiced, untouchable.

And by the Sevens, did that make him an irresistible challenge.

You leaned onto the lab table, one manicured hand supporting your chin while the other lazily stirred the base mixture of honeyroot and belladonna in your shared cauldron. Your eyes flicked over to Jamil's profile, watching as he measured out the powdered mandrake root with military precision.

"Is it supposed to bubble like that?" You asked sweetly, voice dipped in honeyed feigned innocence.

Jamil didn't even glance at you. "The bubbles are normal. We're at the catalytic stage."

You hummed thoughtfully. "Hmmm...I wonder if it's reacting to your natural hotness."

This time, his hand faltered - just barely - but you saw it. A beat of hesitation in his otherwise flawless technique. You smirked.

Bingo.

"You do realize that this is a graded assignment?" He muttered without looking at you, lips tightening.

"Oh, of course," You replied, stirring the brew with a deliberately slow swirl. "I'm just making conversation. I find it helps the potion's vibes when the room has a bit of...chemistry."

Jamil exhaled through his nose. "That's not how alchemy works."

"Isn't it?" You teased, leaning over to glance at the thickening potion in his beaker. Your shoulder brushed against his arm. "You're awfully tense, Jamil. You should let me massage your shoulders after this."

"I'd rather keep my spine intact, thank you."

"You wound me." You pouted dramatically, batting your lashes at him.

"You're going to ruin the stirring ration if you keep fluttering like that."

Sevens, he was so stoic. But not immune. You could see the tension in his jaw now, the ever-so-faintest dust of redness on the tips of his ears. He was trying so hard not to engage. It only made the game that much more fun~

The potion had begun to take on a soft violet hue, meaning that it was time to add the purified dew essence. Jamil reached for the vial carefully, concentration etched into every line on his face.

You leaned in, close enough to count his lashes, your voice low and sultry as your breath ghosted across the shell of his ear, "Careful, Jamil...one drop too fast and things might explode. Wouldn't be the first time a little tension caused something to blow."

His grip faltered.

The vial slipped just slightly, but enough - a splash of dew essence fell into the cauldron all too soon. The mixture hissed with the tenacity of a rattlesnake before erupting into a dramatic puff of violet smoke, swirling with glittering sparks and the undeniable scent of singed lavender.

You both coughed.

Professor Crewel turned so fast, his coat flared like a dramatic cape (which you suppose was exactly that in a way).

"Y/L/N! Viper! What is the meaning of this?" He snapped, heels clicking rapidly toward your table.

Jamil opened his mouth, clearly ready to take the blame, but you were faster.

"I'm so sorry, Professor," You said, wide-eyed and innocent. "That was my fault. I knocked Jamil's elbow by mistake."

You didn't miss the sharp side-glance Jamil gave you. Crewel narrowed his eyes.

"Hmph. Typical of you to treat my class like a fashion runway. Perhaps if you focused on your brewing instead of making doe eyes at your lab partner, you wouldn't be sabotaging his work, which through extension is yours as well."

You bowed your head. "Yes, Professor."

The scolding went on for another minute before Crewel finally snapped his fingers to clean up the mess and stalked off in a flurry of expensive cologne and disdain over his students' shenanigans.

You turned your head slightly to peek at Jamil. He was staring at you, his brows drawn together - slightly in annoyance, but more so in confusion. Something a tad unreadable.

"What?" You asked, smiling. "Surprised I'd take the blame for once?"

"I'm surprised you didn't let me take it." He said, voice softer than before. "Most people do."

Your expression softened (just a little, mind you). "Well, I'm not most people."

He was quiet again. His eyes lingered on you for a second too long, then returned to the fresh beaker of ingredients. His cheeks were a little flushed now.

You sat back in your chair with a satisfied sigh. "Besides," You added, flipping your hair over your shoulder, "Now you owe me~"

"I don't owe you anything," He muttered, but the words lacked their usual venom. He didn't meet your eyes.

Oh yes. The walls were cracking.

And you couldn't wait to keep pushing.

It all began with a simple errand.

Jamil had been tasked with delivering a set of enchanted scrolls to one of the faculty offices across campus (a rare occasion when Yuu wasn't called to the job). Normally, he'd have used some other method to do it alone and in silence - no fuss, no nonsense. Just efficient. That was the plan.

Until you spotted him unlocking his magic carpet outside Scarabia's dorm, scrolls neatly bundled beneath one arm, and a look of focused intention etched onto his face.

You slid up beside him with a little hum of interest, your eyes raking over the floating carpet with mock curiosity. "Running away from all your adoring fans, Viper?" You purred, arms behind your back as you leaned in slightly. "Or is this your version of a gallant escape?"

Jamil (as usual) didn't even spare you a full glance. "It's an errand."

"Even better," You said, stepping onto the edge of the carpet like it was the red carpet at a gala. "Let me tag along. I could use a break...and besides, I've always wanted to know what it feels like to straddle something that responds to your every command."

That got a reaction. Jamil's shoulders stiffened just slightly - a crack in his typically composed armor. He exhaled slowly, eyes forward, face unreadable.

"It's not a toy."

"Oh, sweetheart," You cooed as you sat down behind him with practiced ease, brushing imaginary lint from your miniskirt. "Neither am I."

With a sharp mutter under his breath and a reluctant motion of his hand, the carpet lifted into the air, floating smoothly over the campus grounds. The breeze tousled your hair and his, the sun casting a glow across his face - focused, serene, and unfairly handsome.

You, of course, couldn't resist.

Leaning forward, you gentle wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling the taut definition beneath his robes. "Safety first," You said sweetly into his ear. "Wouldn't want to fall off...though I imagine falling into your arms wouldn't be the worst thing."

Jamil's fingers clenched tighter around the tassels. "You're perfectly stable without clinging to me," He muttered.

"Maybe," You whispered, letting your lips graze the shell of his ear just enough to make him flinch, "But I like how you feel."

He faltered for a split second - the carpet dipping slightly before steadying. You smiled smugly.

"You know," You continued, dragging your hands along his sides, "I've always had a thing for strong, silent types. Especially ones who know how to handle...sensitive equipment."

The tassels twitched in his hands.

You tsked gently. "Tense much? Maybe you need to relax. Should I give you a shoulder rub? Or maybe a kiss for bravery?"

He turned his head slightly - just enough for you to see the tightness in his jaw and the faint, stubborn oink burning in his cheeks. "Stop talking."

You pressed your cheek to his shoulder with an exaggerated sigh. "'It's criminal, really. Just the two of us on a floating carpet, your body between my legs, the wind in my hair...feels like the setup for something a little less PG."

Jamil's back tensed even more beneath you.

"Oh, don't get shy now," You purred, voice dipping like melted chocolate. "You're the one steering. I'm just here...enjoying the view." You slid your hand slowly down his arm. "And the ride."

His fingers visibly twitched, still gripping the tassels with all his life force.

"What really gets me," You continued, your breath brushing the edge of his jaw, "is how you've managed to keep your composure. All this heat, all this tension - and if he gripped the tassels any tighter, they might've snapped.

Jamil's grip tightened again, and this time the carpet pitched into a sudden, dramatic turn - a clear attempt to throw you off his rhythm or distract you into silence.

It didn't work.

You shrieked with laughter, clutching him tighter. "Are we doing tricks now?" You giggled into his shoulder. "Because I'm flexible, but I didn't bring a helmet!"

He groaned low in his throat, but it was too late. You were fully in your element now - lounging behind him with legs cross, hair wind-tossed, and the look of a mischief goddess on your face.

Eventually, with exasperation practically radiating from every movement, Jamil directed the carpet down in front of Ramshackle Dorm. You made no move to dismount.

"Home already?" You asked innocently, trailing your hand up his arm. "And here I thought we'd take the scenic route. Maybe stop by the woods, find a quiet little clearing...share secrets, maybe more-"

"Off."

You blinked.

He didn't even look at you. His ears were slightly pink, his jaw locked. But his voice was level, if strained. "Off the carpet."

You sighed dramatically. "You're no fun."

You dismounted with theatrical flair, smoothing your skirt and tossing your hair back as if stepping down from a royal procession. "But thanks for the ride, darling," You said over your shoulder. "If you ever need help...handling your gear again, you know where to find me."

Jamil didn't respond.

He didn't even look at you.

He simple snapped his fingers, and the carpet whipped back into the air with a swish and vanished into the sky, leaving a faint blush behind and a smirk on your lips.

The stately, mirrored dance room in Night Raven College's athletics wing was usually reserved for ballet or ceremonial formations. But these days, the pounding beats of off-beat music echoed between the walls as Jamil Viper practiced his own stress-relief routine - a private break-dance choreography born from hours of restless tension, endless assignments, and a mind that seldom shuts off.

You found him there in the late afternoon: the sun streaming through high windows, dust motes glittering in shafts of light. He moved with controlled confidence - spins, slides, freezes - all executed with the kind of graceful precision that only someone who had practiced dance for years could muster. His demeanor was calm, composed, yet there was excitement, passion in his movements. A true king in his element.

For you, it was an absolutely irresistible opportunity.

You slipped in behind him, every bit the vision of sultry control: a wine-colored dress with a ruffled hem that clung to curves and teased glimpses of skin with each shift, paired with slender heels that clicked faintly across the polished floor. You drew in a breath - rich, self-satisfied - before stepping forward and clapping once, sharply.

He froze mid-move, head snapping up, brow arched. You pressed a hand to your chest, feigning surprise.

"Ooh, Jamil..." You murmured. "I didn't realize break-dance classes were part of your daily routine."

He slid his foot out of a pose and smoothed back stray hair. "You said you'd leave me alone."

You smiled wickedly. "Who? Me?" Jamil sighed in exasperation. "Even if I did, you just...looked so tempting."

He crossed his arms. "I'm not practicing for an audience."

You tilted your head. "Is that why you paused mid-step? Because I showed up?"

He didn't respond.

Your heels clicked softly against the floor as you drifted toward the speaker, Jamil's phone resting beside it - your target. You tapped the screen, fingers gliding with casual intent - but the lock screen blinked back at you, cold and unyielding. No surprise there. Jamil wasn't the type to give away access lightly (as any responsible person should).

You picked up the phone, letting your gaze linger on it a moment longer than necessary, then turned and made your way back to him. He didn't look up right away, but you could feel the shift in the air as you approached.

Holding the phone out, you met his eyes. "Mind unlocking this for me?"

His jaw tightened - just slightly. Irritation flickered behind his gaze, but so did something else. Without a word, he took the phone and unlocked it, his fingers moving fast, precise. Then he handed it back, his touch brushing yours for half a second too long.

He didn't say a thing. He didn't have to.

You typed something into the search bar, intent on making sure that Jamil couldn't see you fiddling with his phone. The speakers started blaring again, and then you set the phone back where it originally was. The music began again, washing over you - elegant, flowing, rhythmic.

Extracting a corner of the toe of your heel, you dragged a clean line down the floor - a slow, deliberate movement.

Jamil's eyes narrowed - half irritation, half something else. You stepped across the hardwood floor, the rhythm from the speaker guiding you.

One-two-three, one-two-three.

Your heels pivoted lightly, sliding into the familiar cadence. A waltz. Or rather, the footwork for it, anyway.

You moved through the basic steps - slow turns, sweeping glides - the ruffles on your dress fluttering around your figure with every rise and fall. No partner. Just you and the music.

You watched Jamil with the eye of a hawk. Circling closer, footwork still carrying that elegant sway, you stepped into his space, and lifted your arms, one brushing his shoulder, and the other sliding neatly into his hand.

His body went rigid.

Your voice was lavender and velvet. "Waltz with me."

"I'd rath-" He started, tone clipped.

You tilted your head, fingers tightening slightly where they rested. "Dance with me."

He hesitated.

But your steps were already drawing him in, guiding him through the tempo - subtle turns, measured breath, contact that sparked more than rhythm. And for a moment, he followed. Not just because he wanted to. But because he couldn't help it.

You smiled.

You led him into the simple hold - right hand to his shoulder, left hand in his - and pressed forward onto the floor. The swell of a smooth, orchestral Viennese waltz began playing. The ruffles on your dress continued to swirl according to your movements; now with Jamil's stance recast from audience to partner.

Despite you leading him into the dance, Jamil naturally took the lead and guided you carefully with that firm, practiced grip.

One-two-three, one-two-three.

The steps were measured. The turn was tight. The closeness familiar yet thrilling.

"I didn't know you could dance like this," You murmured, voice low enough only he'd hear.

He blinked. "I can dance many styles."

Jamil was a practiced dancer, gifting you perfect posture and fluid motion. You used this chance to brush your hip against his a little longer, your gaze dipped to his neck as you followed his lead.

The height in the waltz built, and you subtly released his shoulder and pressed your chest against his closer. He still didn't flinch. He guided you.

You whispered, "If this is how you hold me now, I'm excited to see how you hold me later."

His step faltered, just a touch. He swallowed.

You slowed, accordingly to the melody, coaxing him into a sultry foxtrot. Each step was sumptuous, like the finest velvet - smooth, intentional, undeniably close. The ruffles whispered around with every turn, every slide a promise made in silk and motion.

You let your fingers trace ever so slightly over his shoulder as you moved.

"You're not trying to seduce me, are you? You questioned, voice dripping like warm honey. A pause. "Because it's working."

His breath hitched. Barely, but you felt it.

Your smile grew more wicked, more hazy.

"Careful, Jamil. If you keep dancing like that, I might forget we're just practicing."

He didn't answer with words. His hand tightened at your waist. His steps grew sharper, more deliberate - every shift of his body brushing closer, every movement carrying a kind of heat that left no room for misreading.

You realized with a slow, thrilling surrender - you weren't the one leading this dance anymore.

Before you knew it, a vibrant salsa tune reverberated throughout the room as you spun sideways, allowing yourself to be pulled into a livelier pattern. You clicked your heels, you flicked your head - classic salsa, but with an effortless allure.

His muscles flexed beneath his shirt. His leading was strong, firm, unflinching. Your bodies pushed and pulled, buzzing with magnetic energy. You uttered softly, "That's it, I knew you had it in you~"

His jaw angled. Sweat glistened on his temple. The fire of the salsa matched the fire in your eyes.

He dipped you low.

Your dress flared.

And your glossed lips parted.

The music changed on your breath - a tense, dramatic tango. You slid your hand along his chest, drawing your pulse to his sternum.

He let go of the salsa rhythm, leaning in for a true tango embrace. Chest to chest, cheek to cheek. Your hand went to the back of his neck, hair slipping through his fingers. His arm slid around your waist with surprising gentleness - tentative, but real.

He led. You pivoted. You pressed your hip against his. His eyes glittered in the mirror. Your hair flew wildly with the tempo. He guided your close, closer - hips aligned, shoulders aligned, heartbeats aligned.

As the music reached a crescendo, he dipped you - gravity and control in perfect synergy. You leaned back in the dip, your dress sliding temptingly, your pulse racing. Who would have known that Jamil Viper was this good of a dancer?

Suddenly, he lost balance.

Mid-dip, he staggered. But as quick as a pit viper, Jamil caught your head as you felt yourselves crash to the ground all too slow, his strong arms creating a barrier between you and the floor. His chest heaved, and his gaze was charged.

You blinked, hair falling forward. He brushed it aside, still holding that dance hold - intimate, warm, safe.

He nodded once, sharply. "I...you okay?"

You smiled back, breathy. "More than okay."

Jamil let go of you, setting himself up vertical, and offering a hand to help you up.

You rose up to your knees as you gently pulled him back to sit.

"I saw you wince when you got up," You said, voice laced with concern, but carrying a teasing edge. Jamil did not miss this. "Did you pull your side?"

He shot you a sharp look. "How'd you know?"

You flashed a knowing smile, leaning closer as your fingers brushed his arm lightly. "Kind of hard to miss. And you're not exactly the best at hiding things."

His eyes narrowed, but softened as you moved in closer, your gaze intent, lingering on his form. "Maybe you should stretch a little," You suggested. "I could help. You know, with that side of yours."

Your lips curled into a knowing smile, the offer looming in the air - a challenge.

You shuffled closer to him and placed your palm against his ribs. "Let me help you loosen up." Your tone was soft now - gentler with the teasing.

He stiffened and relaxed only when your touch remained focused, controlled.

"Everything alright?"

"Are you okay?"

You both asked at the same time.

A laugh, soft and breathy, slipped past your lips. "I've never been better. Though I wouldn't say no to a repeat performance - maybe with less falling, though."

He groaned and tried to move, but you reached up gently and brushed your fingers along his cheek. Your thumb ghosted just under his eye, and his breath caught.

You smiled at him, a soft, private smile that didn't match the typical wicked one you wore like armor.

"I think I broke you," You said playfully, though your voice had quieted.

Jamil didn't reply right away, just looked at you with those impossibly sharp eyes of his, reading more than you meant to show. His gaze swept from your flushed cheeks to your still-parted lips, and you could practically feel the turbulent energy strumming beneath his skin.

"You're pushing too far," He said quietly, voice taut.

You held his gaze, steady.

"Maybe. But you haven't stopped me yet."

The moment stretched between you, heavy with unspoken things. Your fingertips still lingered against his face, and when you didn't pull away, neither did he.

"I like you, Jamil."

It came out quieter than you'd expected.

Even with your usual confidence, even with all your practiced lines and sultry jokes, this part - this truth - was vulnerable. Your stomach twisted as the words hung in the air.

Jamil narrowed his eyes, stunned for a breath.

You kept your fingers on his cheek, grounding yourself.

"I mean it," You said, your voice lower now, calmer, but clearer than ever. "I tease you, sure. I get under your skin. But with you...it's not just a game. It's different."

Light from the chandelier kissed the contours of his face, shadows settling in the hollows like secrets. His brows drew together, silent in focus.

"You drive me up the wall," You admitted with a nervous little laugh. "You're smug and unbothered and infuriatingly self-controlled. And still...you're all I think about lately. Every comeback, every glance...it's like a dance I don't want to end."

Jamil was still quiet.

You could feel your pulse in your throat now. Too exposed.

Your voice dipped again, hushed and a little shaky. "You don't have to say anything. I just...I wanted you to know. I know I'm a lot to deal with. But when it comes to you, I really am serious. Scary serious."

Still silence.

Then - very slowly - Jamil's fingers rose to your wrist. He didn't push your hand away. Instead, he curled his hand around it, warm and steady, as if anchoring himself there.

"I know you mean it," He said at last, voice somber and timbre. "I've always known."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"Then why pull away?" You whispered.

He leaned in closer, the space between you narrowing until your breaths were shared. His body hovered over yours, but it wasn't dominance - it was hesitance. Like he was waiting for permission he didn't think he deserved.

"Because I didn't understand it," He murmured. "I still don't." His gaze searched yours, guarded but unraveling.

"I don't see why it's me. Why you'd look at me like that. There were moments I convinced myself it wasn't real - that you were just...being you. That I was passing fancy."

He exhaled, a shaky sound.

"But then you kept showing up. And you kept meaning it. And I couldn't stop wanting to believe you."

Your expression softened. "And what do you think now?"

"I think..." He hesitated. His voice dipped low, like river water flowing over stone. "You're absurd. And I haven't stopped thinking about you since the first time you blew me off with that ridiculous wink."

A slow smile curved the set of your mouth. "You liked the wink?"

"I hated it," He said, not sounding like he meant it at all. "But I couldn't forget it."

You sat up a little, your face now barely inches from his. "And now?"

"Now, I'm in trouble."

Your peals of laughter were tender and pleased, but something in you was still fragile. Still aching for more than banter. "Do you like me, Jamil?"

He exhaled, letting his forehead rest gently against yours. His hair brushed your cheek, silky and warm.

"I like you," He confessed, barely above a whisper. "More than I want to. More than I know how to deal with. You've turned my whole world upside down."

You swallowed thickly, "Good."

Then you tilted your face, so your lips hovered near his ear, your breath pleasant against his skin.

"Can I kiss you?" You whispered, soft but steady.

Jamil's fingers tightened just slightly around your wrist. His eyes found yours - intense, unreadable for a heartbeat.

Then they dropped to your lips.

"Yes."

You leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn't a playful peck or a teasing brush.

It was the kind of kiss that melted time.

His mouth met yours with careful reverence at first, like he wasn't sure this was real. Then, as your hand tangled in the loose hair at the nape of his neck, he deepened it, pulling you closer, tilting your chin, kissing you like he'd been holding back for far too long.

Though, you supposed that was exactly the case.

You tasted like mischief and jasmine and stolen moments.

He tasted like order, oud, and tender hours.

When you broke apart, both of you breathless, you touched his chest lightly with your palm, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat.

"We're a mess," You chortled, smiling.

Jamil smirked. "You more than me."

"Rude," You teased.

"And yet," He murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair from your cheek, "I still want more."

You leaned in again, your lips just grazing his. "Then you'd better keep up, Viper."

He kissed you again.

And this time, you didn't stop for a long, long while.

Author's Note: So I was supposed to post the Trey x VERY suggestive reader fic version of this before I posted Jamil's, but here we are! The process for creating these fics was NOT easy at all. To add on to Jamil's part, I originally did not plan for the dancing part of the fic to be as long as it was. I just figured that since Jamil is canonically really good at dancing, I could write about it. He obviously loves to break-dance, but he canonically is also really good at ballroom styles, and since this would technically be my first ever Jamil fic, I wanted to do him justice. :>

[falloutrebellion]

Provider Part II (Final)

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader

Requested by: @fleurinat-t

Summary: You are Houki's mother, a diplomat to the Hyuga family, and an unfortunately celibate MILF. After being introduced to Kakashi, the retired Hokage has decided that he wants a taste.

Part I.

🔞 Mature Content. Minors DNI. 🔞

Tags: Oral (male + female receiving), Dirty talk, Vaginal sex, Fingering, Slight dom. Kakashi

I didn't mean to make him such a dirty old man I swear

The rest of the day crawls by with agonizing slowness. You finish your errands in a daze, your mind continuously drifting to silver hair and that knowing smile. Every time you check the clock, barely minutes have passed.

By seven, you're already in the bathroom, steam filling the air as hot water cascades down your body. You take extra care with every inch of skin, applying scented oils that leave you soft to the touch. Your fingers linger on your breasts, your stomach, between your thighs—imagining his hands there instead.

You slip into your best matching set of underwear—black lace that contrasts beautifully against your skin. Over it, a simple dress that hugs your curves just right, not too obvious but suggestive enough. Your hair falls in soft waves around your shoulders, and you apply just a touch of makeup—enough to enhance but not mask.

Seven forty-five.

You pace the living room, straightening items that don't need straightening. You fluff cushions, rearrange flowers, and open a bottle of sake to relax. Anything to keep your hands busy.

Seven fifty-two.

You sink onto the couch, your heart pounding so loudly you're certain it's audible. Heat pools between your legs as your mind conjures images of what's to come, finding the anticipation unbearable.

Your hand drifts down, almost of its own accord. You press your palm against yourself through the thin fabric of your underwear, gasping at how sensitive you already are. Your fingers find your clit, circling slowly as you imagine Kakashi's touch, his voice, his—

Three sharp knocks on the door make you jolt upright.

"Shit," you whisper, yanking your hand away. You hadn't even heard footsteps approaching. Of course, the former Hokage would move silently.

You smooth your dress, take a deep breath, and open the door. Kakashi stands there, looking devastatingly handsome in casual clothes rather than his usual uniform. His hair is slightly damp, and you catch a hint of cedar and sandalwood.

"I'm early," he says, his dark eyes taking in your flushed appearance. "I hope that's alright."

"It's perfect," you reply, trying to control your breathing while stepping aside to let him in. As he passes, his arm brushes yours, and you have to suppress a shiver.

"You look beautiful," he says, his gaze moving appreciatively over you. Then he pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies your face. "And... a little flustered."

Your cheeks burn hotter. Could he tell what you were just doing? The way his lips curve into a knowing smile behind his mask suggests he might.

"I brought this," he says, mercifully changing the subject as he holds up a bottle of expensive sake. "Though I see you're already prepared." His eyes trail to the bottle on the table, already opened.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” You didn’t want to admit you had to have a cup (or two) to stifle your nerves.

"I'm glad you started without me," Kakashi says, stepping closer until barely inches separate you. "Though I'd have preferred to watch you... Relax."

Your breath catches in your throat. "What do you mean?"

His eye crinkles with amusement. "I'm a sensor type, remember? Your chakra spikes when you're... excited." He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It was spiking quite dramatically when I arrived."

Your eyes widen slightly, mortification and arousal warring within you. "Y-you could sense that from outside?"

"Mhm," he hums, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Your chakra has a unique signature. Especially when you're touching yourself."

Your knees nearly give out again as you lightly gasp. "Kakashi!"

"Should I apologize?" His fingers trail down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Or should I help you finish what you started?"

Words fail you as his hand continues its downward path, grazing the side of your breast. You lean into his touch instinctively with a slight whimper.

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmurs, his other hand coming up to the edge of his mask, pulling it down with a swift motion. You almost forgot how handsome he was, struck silent as you look over his gorgeous features.

"You're staring," he says, and without the mask, you can see the full impact of his smile— which you now remembered– was absolutely devastating to your resolve.

"You're beautiful," you whisper, unable to help yourself.

His eyes darken at your words. "May I kiss you now, Ms. Taketori?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. Kakashi's hand slides to the back of your neck, drawing you closer. His lips brush against yours, gentle at first, testing. When you sigh against his mouth, he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips to dance with yours.

He tastes like mint and something uniquely him. You moan, pressing yourself against the hard planes of his chest, your hands fisting in his shirt. His kiss is both skillful and hungry, controlled yet desperate. It makes your head spin and your body ache.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing hard. His eyes have gone nearly black with desire, and you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against your stomach.

"I've been wanting to do that since I saw you at the training grounds," he admits, his voice rough. "You have no idea how hard it is to keep my composure around Houki when all I can think about is your pretty face.”

Your breath quickens, and your chest begins to match the blush on your cheek. "Kakashi," you whisper, his name a plea on your lips and your hands tangled in his shirt.

His hands move to your waist, sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the fabric of your dress. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" He murmurs against your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the way.

"Show me," you challenge, arching into his touch.

He growls—actually growls—and suddenly his hands are everywhere. One palms your breast, thumb circling your nipple through the layers of clothing until it hardens painfully. The other slides down to cup your ass, squeezing firmly as he pulls you against him.

"You feel that?" He asks, rolling his hips against yours so you can feel how hard he is. "That's what I’ve been dealing with for weeks."

His mouth captures yours again as his hands continue their exploration, mapping every curve of your body through your dress. You're gasping, overwhelmed by sensation as he presses you into him, one thigh sliding between yours.

"Bedroom," you manage to say between kisses.

Without warning, Kakashi scoops you up, one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. You yelp in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he cradles you against his solid chest.

"Which way?" He asks, his voice strained with need.

You point down the hallway, and he carries you effortlessly, like you weigh nothing at all. His raw strength makes your core clench with desire, causing you to shiver. Your anticipation builds as he shoulders the door open and kicks it closed behind him.

"You're so damn beautiful," he murmurs, laying you on the bed with surprising gentleness. "I've imagined this too many times to count."

"Tell me," you breathe, wanting—needing—to hear his fantasies.

He looms over you, hands planted on either side of your head. "I've thought about spreading you open, tasting every inch of you until you're screaming my name." His voice is low, almost dangerous against your ear. "I've thought about how tight you'd feel around my fingers, my tongue, my cock."

Your breath catches at his filthy words, another whimper escaping your throat.

"About making you cum so many times you beg me to stop," he continues, one hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your dress higher. "And then making you cum once more, just because I can."

"Kakashi, please," you gasp, spreading your legs wider for him as his hands wander up your thighs, dangerously close to your dripping core.

He smirks, that beautiful smile making your heart race. "Ah, so eager. Tell me what you want."

"Your mouth," you admit, past the point of embarrassment. "I want your mouth on me."

His eyes flash with heat. "Where exactly?"

"Between my legs," you whisper. "Please."

In one smooth motion, Kakashi lies down on the bed and pulls you on top of him so you're straddling his chest. "Come here," he says, his voice thick with desire as he grips your thighs. "Let me taste you."

You hesitate only for a moment before shifting forward, your knees on either side of his head. His hands slide up your thighs, fingers hooking to the sides of your lace panties. As he slowly pulls them to the side, you feel your wetness clinging to the fabric, evidence of how desperately you want him.

"You're soaked," he murmurs, his eyes darkening at the sight of your glistening folds. "How long has it been?"

"A few years," you admit, trembling as cool air hits your exposed center.

Something possessive flashes in his eyes. "Years? No one has touched you here in years?"

You shake your head, feeling vulnerable yet incredibly aroused under his intense gaze.

"Their loss," he growls, guiding your hips forward until you're hovering just above his face. "My gain."

The first swipe of his tongue makes you cry out, your hands flying to the headboard for support. It's been so long that the sensation is almost overwhelming—hot, wet, perfect pressure against your sensitive flesh. Kakashi groans against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he murmurs against your inner thigh before diving back in, his tongue circling your clit with expert precision. Kakashi's tongue is relentless, sucking your clit before dipping inside you, gathering your wetness before returning to that sensitive bundle of nerves. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you spread open for him as he alternates between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks.

Your hips begin to move of their own accord, grinding against his mouth as tension builds rapidly within you. It's almost embarrassing how quickly you're approaching the edge, but you can't help it—it's been too long, and he's too skilled.

"That's it," he encourages between licks, his voice muffled against you. "Ride my face. Take what you need."

"Kakashi," you gasp, one hand moving to tangle in his silver hair. "Oh god, Kakashi!"

He hums his approval, the sound reverberating through your core. When his tongue dips inside you, you nearly scream, your thighs beginning to tremble around his head. He seems to sense how close you are, doubling his efforts as one hand slides up to palm your breast through your dress.

"I can't—it's too much—" you pant, torn between pulling away from the intensity and grinding down harder.

Kakashi pulls back just enough to say, "Let go for me. I want to feel you cum on my tongue," before returning to his task with renewed vigor.

The combination of his words and the relentless pleasure causes the flood gates to open. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you cry out his name, coating his face in a gush of your juices. Your vision blurs at the edges as waves of pleasure radiate outward from your core, leaving you gasping and shaking.

But Kakashi doesn't stop. He works you through your climax and keeps going, his tongue gentler now but still persistent, coaxing aftershocks from your oversensitive body.

"Kakashi," you whimper as your legs shake around his head, earning a dark chuckle from him as he separates from your engorged pussy with an explicit pop.

You collapse forward, catching yourself on the headboard as your thighs quiver uncontrollably. When you glance down, the sight nearly makes you come undone again—Kakashi's beautiful face glistening with your release, his eyes dark with hunger as he licks his lips.

"Turn over," he commands, his voice rough with desire.

Before you can respond, his strong hands grip your waist and flip you onto your back in one fluid motion. He looms over you, face still wet with your arousal as he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, moaning as he devours you with the same intensity he showed between your legs.

"I want to see all of you," he murmurs against your lips, his fingers finding the zipper of your dress. "Every. Single. Inch."

He peels the fabric down your body with agonizing slowness, his eyes drinking in each new expanse of skin revealed. When your dress joins your panties on the floor, his gaze darkens at the sight of your black lace bra.

"Beautiful," he whispers, tracing the edge of the delicate fabric before deftly unhooking it. Your breasts spill free, and Kakashi's breath catches audibly. 

His mouth descends on your nipple, sucking and licking as his hand kneads your other breast. You arch into his touch, desperate for more, your hands clawing at his still-clothed back.

"Too many clothes," you pant, tugging at his shirt.

Kakashi straightens, his eyes never leaving yours as he strips. First his shirt, revealing a sculpted torso marked with scars that only enhance his appeal. Then his pants slid down powerful thighs. Finally, his underwear, freeing his impressive erection.

You swallow hard at the sight of him—thick, long, and already leaking at the tip. Your mouth waters with the need to taste him.

"Come here," you whisper, sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed. Kakashi steps between your spread thighs, his cock bobbing tantalizingly close to your face.

You wrap your hand around the base, feeling it pulse in your grip. Kakashi hisses through his teeth as you lean forward, licking a slow stripe from base to tip.

"Fuck," he groans, one hand tangling in your hair. 

You swirl your tongue around the head, savoring the salty taste of his pre-cum before taking him deeper. His thickness stretches your lips as you work your way down his shaft, using your hand to cover what you can't fit.

"That's it," Kakashi encourages, his voice strained. "Take as much as you can. You look so fucking good with my cock in your mouth."

His dirty words send a fresh surge of wetness between your legs. You hollow your cheeks, sucking his throbbing length with enthusiasm, spurred on by his praises. Your rhythm increases as you work his shaft, your hand twisting in time with your mouth's movements. His taste is intoxicating—salt and musk and pure masculine need. Every groan that escapes his lips urges you on, emboldening you to take him deeper.

"Look at me," Kakashi commands, his voice strained.

You gaze up at him through your lashes, mouth still wrapped around his thick length, and the sight nearly undoes him. His eyes are half-lidded, face flushed with desire as he watches his cock disappear between your lips.

"Perfect," he breathes, thumb caressing your stretched lips. "So fucking perfect."

You pull back slowly, tongue tracing the prominent vein along the underside before focusing on the sensitive head. Kakashi's breath hitches as you swirl your tongue around it, dipping into the slit to collect the pearly drops forming there.

"I've missed this," you murmur against his heated flesh before taking him deep again, this time relaxing your throat to accommodate more of him.

"Fuck," Kakashi hisses, his fingers tightening in your hair. "How are you so good at this?"

You hum around him in response, the vibration making his hips jerk forward involuntarily. Kakashi's eyes are half-lidded, watching you with an intensity that makes your core throb with renewed desire. You release him from your mouth with a wet pop, then lower yourself further, taking one of his heavy balls into your mouth. The strangled sound he makes encourages you to continue, lavishing attention on both before licking a long stripe back up his length. His abdominal muscles contract as you alternate between sucking his cock and paying attention to his balls, the sight sending shots of electricity straight to your core.

You feel him swell further in your mouth, the telltale sign of his approaching climax. His thighs tremble under your palms as you increase your suction, determined to taste him.

Suddenly, Kakashi gently but firmly pulls you off him, his chest heaving with exertion. "Not yet," he says, voice strained. "Not like this."

With strong hands, he guides you firmly down onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress as he crawls over you, eyes dark with hunger. "I want to be inside you when I cum."

Your heart races as he positions himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. "Please," you whisper, lifting your hips in invitation.

Kakashi captures your mouth in a searing kiss as he rubs his throbbing head through your slick folds, pushing forward, stretching you deliciously as he fills you inch by inch. You gasp against his lips, the sensation of fullness overwhelming after so long without. He stills when fully seated, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs against your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your shoulder. "So tight, so wet for me."

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. "Move," you plead, nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, Kakashi, I need you to move."

He obliges, withdrawing almost completely before slamming back in, setting a punishing pace that has you seeing stars. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your breathless moans, and his deep groans as he drives into you relentlessly. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself from driving into you, savoring the way you clenched around him.

"Touch yourself," he commands, his voice rough with exertion. "I need to feel your pussy cum around my dick.”

You whimper loudly at his words, sending a chill through you that causes you to squeeze your insides tighter, earning an even louder groan from Kakashi. Moving your hand between your legs, you begin to circle your clit and he pulls away just enough to watch.

Your fingers move faster, matching the rhythm of Kakashi's powerful thrusts as pressure builds rapidly inside you. The stimulation is overwhelming—his thick cock stretching you perfectly while your fingers work your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"That's it," Kakashi growls, his pace becoming erratic as he watches your fingers work. "Let me see you fall apart."

The coil of tension snaps suddenly, violently. Your back arches off the bed as your orgasm tears through you with unprecedented force. Your walls clamp down on his length, pulsating with such intensity that your vision blurs at the edges. A scream tears from your throat as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, your body convulsing beneath him.

"Fuck," Kakashi hisses, his eyes locked on where your bodies join, watching your pussy swallow his cock as you come undone. "Look at how wet you are," he groans, his voice strained. "The way your pussy lips grip me—it's fucking perfect."

Your release seems endless, fueled on by his continuous praises, each pulse stronger than the last as Kakashi continues to drive into you. His expression is one of awe and raw desire as he watches your fingers still working your clit, your juices coating his shaft with each thrust.

"I can feel every twitch," he groans, his pace becoming uneven. "Every pulse of your tight little pussy around me."

His words push you higher, prolonging your orgasm as your body trembles beneath him. Kakashi's breathing becomes ragged, his powerful thrusts growing desperate as he chases his own release.

"I'm going to fill you up," he warns, his voice strained. "Going to mark you from the inside."

"Yes," you gasp, still riding the waves of your climax. "Please, Kakashi—inside me."

With a guttural groan, Kakashi buries himself to the hilt and stills. You feel him pulse inside you, hot spurts of his release painting your walls as his face contorts in pleasure. The sensation of his warmth flooding you triggers another smaller orgasm, making you cry out as your pussy milks him for every drop.

For a moment, you both remain frozen, panting, connected in the most intimate way. Then, to your surprise, Kakashi slowly withdraws from you, his semi-hard cock sliding out with a wet sound that makes you blush.

Before you can question him, he's moving down your body, settling between your thighs once more. "I'm not done with you yet," he murmurs, his breath hot against your oversensitive flesh.

"Kakashi, I don't think I can—" Your protest dies on your lips as he slides two fingers into your soaked entrance, curling them to hit that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. His mouth covers your clit, sucking gently as his fingers work you with practiced precision. You can hear the lewd, wet noises coming from your center as you feel your mixed wetness drip down and pool on the bed.

"Oh god," you whimper, your hands flying to his hair, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away from your oversensitive bundle of nerves. He curls his fingers, hitting your front wall, and the stars are immediately entering your vision as you feel the hot pressure building. “Kakashi— I—”

“Thats it,” he murmurs against your wet core. “Let me taste you one more time.”

Your hips buck wildly as you cum, a burst of juices escaping you as he removes his cum covered fingers and replaces them with his mouth, lapping up your mixed releases.

The sight of the former Hokage eagerly devouring the evidence of your shared pleasure is almost too much to bear. Whimpering and going limp, he continued to lick and suck at your quivering center, his tongue delving deep inside to collect every drop of your mingled essences. Your oversensitive body trembles with each pass of his skilled mouth, aftershocks rippling through you as he thoroughly cleans you with devoted attention.

"Kakashi," you gasp, weakly tugging at his silver hair. "I can't take anymore."

He gives you one final, lingering lick before crawling up your body, his expression one of pure satisfaction as he gathers you into his strong arms. Your body molds against his, fitting perfectly as he pulls you to his chest, one hand stroking your hair while the other traces lazy patterns on your back. You pull his face to yours, kissing him deeply as you drape your leg over his hips. The taste on his tongue was pure sex and it somehow sent another shiver down to your swollen pussy. You pull away to breathe and collapse on his chest, earning a light chuckle from the retired hokage.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear is comforting, grounding you as you both catch your breath. His warmth envelops you completely, making you feel safer than you have in years.

"You're incredible," he murmurs, pressing his lips to your forehead. His fingers trace lazy patterns along your spine, soothing your oversensitive nerves.

You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, inhaling his masculine scent. "So are you," you reply, your voice barely audible.

For several minutes, you lie together in comfortable silence, your breathing gradually synchronizing. His heartbeat thrums steadily under your palm, grounding you as you come down from the intensity of your shared pleasure.

"I really enjoy your company," you whisper against his skin, feeling suddenly vulnerable in the afterglow. Your fingers trace one of the scars on his chest, following its path across his toned muscles. "You're welcome here whenever you want, you know."

Kakashi's chest rumbles with a soft chuckle as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. "Whenever I want? That's a dangerous offer, Ms. Taketori. I might never leave."

Despite his teasing tone, there's something in his eyes—a warmth, a sincerity that makes your heart flutter.

"I mean it," you say, holding his gaze. "I haven't felt this comfortable with someone in a very long time."

His expression softens, the playfulness giving way to something more vulnerable. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle.

"I feel the same," he admits quietly. "Being with you is... easy. In a way that nothing has been for me in years." His fingers trail down your cheek. "I'd like to spend more time with you, not just between the sheets. Though I certainly have no complaints about that aspect."

You smile, warmth blooming in your chest at his words. "So, the legendary Copy Ninja wants to date a single mom?"

"The retired Hokage wants to date an extraordinary woman," he corrects, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Who happens to have an equally extraordinary son."

Your heart melts at words, and you melt into him, feeling complete for the first time in many years.

[cosmos-coma]

Winter Mountain Soldier Spy- Part 7

A/N: I promise I'm still here!! I've just been busy driving across the country for work and then living in the woods with poor internet lol. but I'm still trying to write when work isn't completely wearing me out!

Pairing: Winter soldier!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Words: 1366

Bucky Masterlist | AO3

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

________________

“I have a few questions to ask you.”

You thanked whatever higher power there was that the ruddy cold hid the pallor of your skin as she spoke, and finally brought your eyes back up to hers. 

Her kind, fabricated smile never faltered as he reached inside her lab coat and pulled out a small folded photograph, "Have you seen this man? We've heard rumors that someone matching his description has been seen in the area." She said, handing you the unfolded photo. 

Winter’s vivid blue eyes stared back at you, their obedient malevolence so prominent that it was all you could see in them. His brow creased with a curious determination. For a brief moment, you wondered if the person behind the camera survived, but you decided not to dwell on it. 

You glanced back up at her, flipping the photo over as if you were looking for more, “Looks like a scary guy… what did he do?” You asked. 

She sighs and takes a breath, running through the script in her head, “he stole some high-level technology from our labs, things that have very dangerous potential when placed in the wrong hands….”

You restrained the frown tugging at your lips, “‘high-level technology… dangerous potential�� all he took was himself…. She talks about him like an object. A possession….” You thought. 

At first, you didn’t catch the way your thumb seemed to run absently over the unfolded photo, but the way she looked over you, as If she was beginning to slot the pieces into place, made you stop short. Without another glance downward, you quickly folded up the photo and handed it back, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can help you.”

She watched you for a long moment- trying to read every nook and cranny of your stoic expression. At least- you hoped it was stoic. With the way your stomach was twisting in on itself, you weren’t sure exactly what you presented anymore.

After the tensest moment of your life, she shook her head, her warm smile now cold and replaced with something far more unfeeling. “Now, that is a shame…” she sighed as she removed her glasses, lifting the edge of her lab coat to wipe them clean. “I was hoping you’d be more cooperative… but it seems he’s already set his hooks in you..”

“I…” you croaked out around the lump in your throat, forcing it down, “I don’t know what you mean…” 

“Oh, I believe you do…” She replied, putting her glasses back on and slipping the folded paper into her inner pocket. She looked back at her cohorts and motioned them forward wordlessly, no longer bothering to hide her true intentions.

Her lackeys took their instructions without hesitation and began to advance on you, moving around in slow arcs in an attempt to surround you as she watched on. 

The sound of blood rushed in your ears as you began to feel like cornered prey-like a deer surrounded by hungry, snapping wolves. 

You turned as the thin hand of the wolf-ish scientist on your right slipped inside his lab coat, giving you just a peek of the syringe hidden between the folds of fluttering fabric.

Your eyes flicked back briefly to the ‘wolf’ on your left- ‘Anders’, his name tag read; his hands were open to you, free and clear of any additional threat as they tried to corral you from behind. You turned back toward the first scientist, ‘Elijah’, just in time to see the glint of a silver needle raise into the sky. 

“Don’t hesitate.” Winter’s voice rang in your ears, his previous warnings came back to you, “Hydra will not hesitate with you, so do not hesitate with them. Do what you can while you still have the breath to do it.”

Your muscles moved before you could give them the command, your feet stumbling back as the syringe’s needle slashed roughly down your cheek. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your mind spewed unintelligibly as you forced all other rational thoughts out the window. This was not the time for thinking- thinking would get you killed. 

Without another second of hesitation, you raised the axe from your shoulder in a crude mimicry of your opponent. The worn iron wedge found its apex in the sky- its menacing silhouette shadowing the now fearful eyes of its prey before- as if splitting a log- you brought the axe down as hard as you could. Your eyes screwed shut briefly as a stomach turning squelch came from beneath your blade.

Something warm and viscous splattered against your face. You could swear you heard a scream beneath the deafening rush of blood and adrenaline, but whether it was yours or theirs, you did not know.

The world was breathless as you opened your eyes. Shock and surprise were written plainly across the remaining scientists' faces, as if they hadn’t been expecting you to fight back- though, to be fair, you hadn’t quite expected this from yourself either.

In the single, still moment left hanging in the air, you finally got your wits about you and… ran. You dropped the axe, still lodged firmly in the shoulder of this man, and before your brain could catch up, your feet were already on the move. 

You hauled ass through the frosted wood, the settled snow now heavier and more scant than it was before, for which you blamed last week’s unseasonable weather. Your Cheek burned, spreading a tingling numbness across your face, unlike the stinging cold. 

You touched your cheek. Blood. 

You could barely feel the warmth of it, even as it dropped down your wind-bitten face. 

Whatever was in that god-forsaken syringe must’ve gotten into your cheek as he cut you.

But you couldn’t worry about that now.

Loud shouts rang out after you, soon followed by gunfire which only barely missed you as it splintered into a nearby tree, right at leg level. 

They weren’t trying to kill you- they were trying to use you as bait. 

You risked a glance back as you found yourself in a flat stretch of woods, only to find Anders in hot pursuit, following only a few seconds behind. Another gunshot rang out, making you flinch and duck instinctively, but you refused to stop. 

A clearing soon laid ahead of you; it was open and vulnerable, but these woods weren’t big enough to run through forever. You made a dash for the opening. If you could just make it past the clearing, maybe you could find a place to hide. There were plenty of rotting barns and shallow caves littered amongst the mountainside- you only needed to hide long enough for either Winter to find you, or for you to find him.

If you could just make it-

CRACK

New instincts kicked in suddenly and you froze where you stood, skidding and sliding in your momentum. 

You looked back.

Anders too was stopped dead in his tracks, looking down at his feet, and then back to you with a different kind of fear in his eyes. 

You followed suit and looked down at your feet. Heavy snow had crunched beneath your boots, sinking only a couple of inches. Your weight shifted as you made to move again, and once more, a heavy crack and thud rippled through the frozen water beneath your feet.

Fuck.

You forgot about the lake.

In all your desperate scrambling to get away, the lake had been completely lost on you. 

You looked back up at the scientist as the single gunman in pursuit stopped at the shore, raising his weapon in your direction. 

You were trapped, put between a rock and a hard place, but despite the dangers on both sides, you couldn’t afford to stay still.

You would have to risk it. 

You took a breath and prepared again to take a step forward, but before you could raise your foot even an inch, you felt the ice give out from under you.

You had half a mind to breathe in, gasping for air, just as your body hit the water, and in no time, you were taken down- enveloped in a dark, unrelenting cold. 

Fuck. 

_____________

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[etvdes]

they almost find themself asking have you ever done heroin? but they find themself laughing humorlessly at the thought. what kind of question even was that? of course she hadn't. "yeah, i guess at first it was an accident." they reply, but their heart's not really in it. "i mean like – in NA you're not supposed to say anything is a result of anything outside of your control. powerless to your addiction but character defects and choices contribute." they recite like they don't even have to think about it anymore. "at the beginning it was to manage the pain or whatever. twenty five stitches and a broken jaw at eighteen was kind of a lot i guess." they reply, "and when my mom died it was harder i guess. took me a week to get out of bed, stopped seeing my psychiatrist –" another pause, "sorry i know it's a lot to start that long ago. i'm really not trying to bore you." to anyone else, it might seem heinous to say that their addiction story is BORING, but grey didn't come out with the intention of talking about all of this today. "it was different than other things i did. made me feel SANE again. made me feel like i was okay again. so i didn't care about my mom or my house or anything else." they take a deep breath, "i did rehab a couple times. always ended up screwing it up. i don't – i don't remember the three days between when mickey died and his funeral." they explain, "anyways i dunno, couple od's, couple relapses, whatever. i finally got clean the last time ten-ish months ago. when i moved here." they shrug, and it feels like they've detached themself from the story. they can't keep thinking about how sad it is or they'll break. "they keep telling me that at NA. that it'll get better, but it doesn't always feel that way." they shake their head. and the way she reacts to their statement throws them off. you love me? it's only then that they realize that's what they said, and their cheeks burn. how'd they screw that one up? "yeah– guess the cats out of the bag." they shrug, "just couldn't stomach lying to you about it all anymore. you wanted to know everything about me, and i was so happy but – i kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. all the lies made me feel sick." it sucks. talking about it sucks. but god, they feel insane. they don't want to keep thinking, don't want their mind to keep whirring at an unrelenting pace. so instead they just keep talking. "did you–" they look over at her, "what made you wear my sweatshirt today?" the tears that feel like they've been running down their cheeks for the better part of the last hours have definitely slowed, and they're trying to be a better person then they feel like they are. catastrophic emotions aside, there was something bothering her too. and grey didn't want to act like they had the monopoly on suffering, even if they were really struggling today.

something within rowan is satisfied enough to have their arms around her, enough for her to snake her own around them too. it's perhaps the part that made her reach for grey's sweatshirt that day... or it's the part that feels a little fractured whilst syphoning through all the new information they present her with. it's enough to satisfy her into staying quiet as grey slowly starts to unravel the tangled up ball of yarn that is apparently their life. she gets the little things. it's not like she's never had an edible before and she'd wore a fentanyl patch about a decade before she touched alcohol. she's no stranger to temporary highs, what she is a stranger to is any sort of reliance on them. any sort of life ruining tether like the one grey has experienced. all she can do is listen to them share with her whatever they feel is relevant. "so it was an accident." maybe that isn't the right word for it. does anyone choose addiction? she only means to say that a series of events clearly kickstarted all of this and it wasn't like it was something grey ever went looking for. there was just a path before them that they ended up taking. she doesn't have much to say to what they offer her. she only takes it in at face value, nodding a little bit. "it's not the easiest thing to do, is it? i'd like to say it gets easier..." for some people it maybe does. for someone like rowan who can share the things that are on her mind, it probably does sound easy. that doesn't mean that she doesn't experience a gnawing anxiety that whatever she might say to someone might tip them over the edge. put them off of her. people want honesty but not like that. their words pique her interest a little, head tilting to look up at them. it's a slip of the tongue surely but one that she latches on to. "love me?" it's not what she should focus on and she knows it. she just needs to be satisfied with the fact there was an element to their relationship that wasn't built on their inability to be open with her. she has to believe them now because what do the gain to lie after how honest they've been? not even lie but be dishonest about. "i'm glad that it was real." she means it too, finds a small amount of reprieve in that fact. "was there... did you ever feel happy?" would they ever be happy around her again? or would she now be a constant reminder of what they've told her and what she knows?

[fala-alfredo-pasta]

Maybe a bit much but could I get a teruteru/Miu comic? You can even put someone there getting grossed out by the for funsies :3

I just like the thought of Miu giving Teru a cute dumb pet name based on his last name sounding like ham lol

[stupidlittlespirit]

im sorry to hear that you're actively losing your relationship due to being ace.. thats genuinely devastating

it's alright babe, at the end of the day I'll always have this smokin hot bod and this clean bill of mental heal-..... this smokin hot bod!

[canisalbus]

Hey quick question,

What do you think is an acceptable amount of asks to post in a day?

They've become my primary way of delivering you art ramblings and oc lore and such, but I'm constantly worried I'm flooding people's dashboards with them.

[sapphire-drawings]

I had never even CONSIDERED adult webber and lil wilson but I am obsessed with that au thank you for enlightening me

There's no reason for me to take this long to reply to stuff but also there's no reason to make baby Baby Wilson for this Au soooo, there's that. Not the first time I've shared him either Had the idea of... this sub Au of the Au)? and Webber being like "yeah, this wee lad is ours" Papa bear instincts kicking in

I'm still not sure why people like the Au so much but thank you for leaving such cute inbox!

[tcustodisart]

Can we draw Connecticut tav?🙏

I don't know, can he draw you? (joking, of course you can :D)

[manasurge]

Your custom fanspec... tell me about it 👀

:BLUSHYSMILEYCATEMOJI: hehehe well, it is mostly done, it just needs the polishing up for proper posting display with the accompanied drawn diagrams and colour coding (also it's quite old at this point, started working on it a year ago and wanted to work on lore stuff so I put it on hold, so the doodles look kinda bad but oh well alsjdfsdfj). The one main thing I just have to make her Reformed Mordrem minions to display the rest with the little visual diagrams, but I can post what I have done here so far <3 (this is actually the first time I've posted the updated state of this WIP since I last talked about it last year lskjfs. So sorry in advance if some of this seems janky as I haven't gone over it in a hot minute) Note: I also wanna redo the icon thing to be more of an eye instead of the lotus since it makes more sense literally and thematically and to just try to make it look better in general. For context my OC Mourynn/Vallotash (same person kinda) is Mordremoth's (parasitic) Scion in a weird imposter (syndrome) situation (leaving that bit out for now), and her whole thing was inspired by the ??? area in Jahai bluffs with the one quote that inspired her existence "Are you a dragon dreaming that it's a hero? If you were, how would you know?", where the area also matches her colours thematically too, and why her Mesmer abilities all revolve around hallucinations and tapping into the "Dragon of mind/plant, roots/madness, etc." where the spec also evolves slowly over time as she develops, but it does get amped up during LS1 with Scarlet being responsible for kickstarting it (as she brainwashed Mourynn to help cultivate the Dreamthistle into the Toxic Offshoots, and from there with HoT and so on as things got worse and this just evolved into it's own thing, haha). Super abridging explanations (and badly lol) since I feel that part with the Toxic Alliance and those spores were an important step towards this becoming what it is. Also I still need to decide on names for some things, but oh well ;w; ANYWAYS! Mourynn's custom Mesmer elite spec (WIP):

[0brighta]

✦

[shanklin]

Is the song you knows begun going to update again? I really love it and I’m excited to see where it goes

You know how in the fic Ford has to make everything about himself?

The bastard did it again! 😡

I also talked about it in my little rant post here, but basically I realised the fic desperately needs a little Ford intermission and now I'm trying to write something entirely new for it. 

This way I can set some stuff up for the sequel AND give poor Ford some well needed character motivation.

My goal is to make everyone in my comments, who wants Ford to suffer for his actions as well as the very few Ford defenders, mad at me. 😌🩷

So yes! I'm still working on it and it will be updated soon-ish. Stupid Ford just wants to steal the show.

So far he's failed to count to 10, lied to Stan about very important feelings and sent him away to be alone with the one true love of his life!

Thank you for the ask! 

It feels surreal that there are people actively waiting for the next chapter. Great motivation though! 🥰

[capn-twitchery]

need everything to stop so i can sit & chill for longer than 20 minutes hwugh i am Exhausted. i wanna use all the craft stuff i got,,, i want to sit & make things,,,i wanna talk to people,,

hopefully soon. but for now, gnight flumblr♥︎

[overlymetaromantic]

jokes aside from my last ask, whats ur advice for beginner artists? i am an artist myself and i wanna know whats an advice that u can share with others that works for u.

I can really only give advice as someone who does art/comics as a hobby, but personally, more than anything, I think the most important thing is to find what makes making art the most fun for you! Knowing what you a) like to draw and b) DON'T like to draw will go a long way in helping develop your sense of style, as well as a potential map on what areas you might want to grow in one day. Lean into what you like! Find shortcuts to help manage the things you don't!! Enjoying the process is incredibly valuable in being able to continue the process, which in turn keeps you drawing and eventually, inevitably helps you grow as an artist :)