#'clean up your spot on the table and push in your chair' she leaves her wine glasses and boxes of wine on the counters all the time

[boxylic]

Love it when my mom gets mad at me for 'leaving messes' that she herself leaves all the time

[prael]

Cleaning Service

Kinktember Day 2: Maid Play

Aespa Karina x male reader smut

words: 4,000 Kinktember Masterlist

"Hey, babe?" You poke your head from the door of your home office. "What's with all the noise?"

Karina is hooking her head around the corner at the end of the hallway and calls back to you, "Noise? Oh, whoops! I was just sweeping the floor and dropped the brush. Sorry, sir."

"Sir?" you question under your breath as she disappears around the corner. "Whatever..." You retreat into the office once again, plopping down onto the comfy computer chair. You turn your focus back to the work documents in front of you. This lasts for all of two minutes before you hear a loud thumping noise once again from somewhere in the apartment.

You leave your chair, cross the room, and open the door, poking your head out in confusion once more. "Karina?" There is no reply. The hallway is quiet. The doors to the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen are all closed. You take a step into the hall and you're greeted by the loud scraping of furniture on the floor from the living and dining room at the far end.

You advance towards the corner in apprehension, calling out again, "Karina? What's going on?"

She is half over the dining table and looking over her shoulder. "I'm still cleaning, sir. Sorry if I'm loud. I have been told that I'm too loud with everything I do." There's a lilt in her voice on those last words. Between that and her choice of dress, it is hard not to have your mind in the gutter.

"What the hell are you wearing?" You probably intended to ask that in your own head but you couldn't help but blurt it out. In reality, it's very clear what she is wearing, the better question would have been why is she wearing it, but it's too late for that.

"Sir, this is standard dress for a maid. I am the maid you hired after all. I'm here to give your big, long... hallway a long, hard, deep clean, right after I finish here in the dining room."

At this point, you haven't made eye contact for a single second of the conversation, too drawn to how her skirt is so short that not only can you see her panties, but you can see the bare skin of her lower back above them as she bends. Your gaze wanders down the backs of her tasty thighs and the gap between them.

Karina speaks again after a soft laugh at how you seem to be stunned, "Perhaps you would like to watch me work? Make sure that I don't miss a spot and get into all these... tight spaces?"

"Karina... I have work. I have to finish this paperwork..." you respond half-heartedly.

"Okay sir, if you don't want to watch, I can just keep working on my own." As you lean back on the wall by the corner, thinking, she bends forward, so that her ass rises into the air. "I promise not to make too much noise."

Working is a fool's errand, every time you hear something outside your office, you're reminded of what Karina is up to—of her ridiculous outfit. You want to watch her. There isn't enough blood in your brain for you to think clearly. And then the door opens. Brush in hand, Karina steps into the office and bends over to run the bristles across the floor in long sweeping strokes. It is impossible not to notice the slight sway in her hips.

You look away, turn, and focus back on your work. For a brief second, anyway. Her long and slightly wavy black hair hangs in front of her shoulder as she bends over to sweep, between the locks, the white low-cut lace frills of her outfit struggle to contain her chest. It's fitted so tight that they spill over, each sweep of her arms threatening to push them free.

You can't help it anymore. You steer into the skid and fuel the roleplay. "I expect every inch of this place swept, cleaned, and shined. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir, the place has to be clean, really clean. I am here to serve you to the best of my abilities."

"Clean this desk," you instruct simply, returning to your computer screen with a smug smirk, as though you are oblivious to the real intent of your words. You aren't really oblivious to it—you're relishing it. She is likely doing the same thing, of course. This is her plan. Her choice of outfit—from the black and white dress down to the choker on her neck has an intention behind it, and there's no point pretending that she isn't trying to seduce you.

She steps over next to you, duster in hand, and with exaggeratedly graceful gestures she dusts down the desk you work at. She reaches over you, to the far side, instead of walking around, this way she can push her chest right into your face. In between writing lines in an email, you check out the cleavage just inches from you. You breathe a gentle warm sigh right onto her.

Karina whines, softly, in your ear, and then speaks, "Oh master... It looks like there's some dirt I have to clean right"—Karina reaches down below the desk to grasp your trousers, over your bulge—"here. I know just what it needs. A nice spit-shine."

"I did hire you to clean everything," you smile. Karina settles down to her knees on the floor and then crawls under your desk. You spread your legs a little more to let her inside and roll your chair forward ever so slightly. You type your email; there are so many to work through, after all.

Her hands explore over your trousers until she is firmly clasping at you, massaging through your pants. "It's so dirty down here," Karina puts a feigned whine into her voice. "I'm going to have to get in there and really make it nice and clean, master."

Karina tugs at the zipper of your trousers and pulls it down, next she has your boxer shorts tugged down as well. She cradles you in her right hand, toying, feeling it grow harder in the palm of her hand. For some time, she playfully toys and strokes, squeezing and palming and groping all over. This is heaven.

"This is a really big job, sir, I do hope it's worth a nice, big tip. The maid likes to be rewarded well." You hear and feel the giggle against your inner thigh before she runs her wet, slick tongue all the way from the base of your length right up to the head. She spits onto it and collects it with her stroking hand, creating a smooth and slippery glide.

She uses her other hand to massage your balls, cupping and stroking them. She seems to work you over for so long without making a change and it has you wondering if she intends to use just her hand all the way. Her fingertips play over your sensitive cock, teasing, working you into a fever. Your fingertips brush the keyboard, working away while your cock is worked over, a display of inhuman self-control.

"Are you going to be a good maid and clean it for me, or just play with it all day?" Your hand wanders to the top of her head to rub her.

"Sorry master, I have been known to enjoy my job a little too much at times. Don't worry, I will have your dick all cleaned and polished right away." Karina doesn't waste another second, before her mouth engulfs you, sinking down onto you, wet and soft and slippery, hotter than even the warmth of her hands had been, her lips gliding down on you and wrapping snugly.

Your fingers tap wildly over the keyboard. She runs her lips and tongue all along your shaft as she moves down and then up. Every movement causes your toes to curl, and your body to arch forward in your seat. The movements cause your hands to slow over the keyboard. "Good girl."

Karina grabs and caresses your thigh in silent appreciation. It tickles more than anything, making you writhe ever so slightly, but that just sends you deeper into the warmth and wetness. It is absolute bliss, the smooth, warm feeling enveloping your entire shaft.

Her hands kneed your upper thighs as she pushes her head down all the way, before coming up to gasp for air, catching her breath, and then descending back onto you with eagerness. In a moment like this, you can feel every little thing she shoes with her mouth. She plays her tongue over your tip and you grip the keyboard as if you plan to twist it in half. You stare straight ahead blankly, knowing that if you were to look down, you would be a lost cause.

That tongue swirls and twists around the head, a feat that cannot go unacknowledged. You reach down with one hand and tangle up in her soft, silken black hair and push her harder. It's all the direction she needs as she brings the full heat and pressure of her mouth down into your lap, bobbing up and down rapidly. She is drooling all over you. Your fingers are gently caressing her as her tongue draws all sorts of sensations over your flesh.

At last, the task is done and you hit enter and fire off your email. Just in time to grip the arm of your chair. " Fuck..." you exhale under your breath. Karina hums happily as your cock hits the back of her throat, sending ripples through you, driving you ever closer. Harder she sucks, desperate to suck you clean. Your mouth goes dry, and a violent shiver courses through your body, toes and fingers tingling. "I'm going to..." you exhale as a shiver rushes over you, eyes widening, pleasure mounting, peaking.

You tremble. Then, your eyes shut and you squeeze into a fistful of hair. You let out a low, long growl and thrust your hips forward, grunting. You cum, right down the back of Karina's throat, and she works you the entire time, sucking down every drop of you into herself. This is ecstasy. You could float right up away through the roof and into the sky at any minute.

Karina bobs her head for a short time, the intense sensitivity is almost unbearable, every second, every stroke is an overload to your system, but she won't give in into you have released every drop. Finally, she pulls her mouth away. Your whole body sags in relief as Karina leans her face against your thigh. "I trust my work has satisfied?" she whispers, and all you can do is nod. "Then I should continue my other tasks."

Karina crawls out from under your desk, and as she stands, she wipes around her mouth with her fingers. Her lip gloss is smeared at the sides of her lips, her cheeks reddened and her hair messy, but she still gives you the most beautiful smile. She stands straight and neatens her dress. 

"Where was I... Ah, yes, I should dust the shelves. Sir." You roughly pull up your trousers and underwear and watch as Karina retrieves her duster and sets about her work. You look back at your screen but she's still there in the periphery, standing on her tiptoes as she dusts, the hem of her little dress not even half-covering her perky ass. "Don't let me distract you, sir, work hard. Really, really hard."

What else were you meant to do? You watch Karina as she dances around, dusting in a way that doesn't even clean anything. Everything else has become unimportant, apart from the curves of her body moving in front of you. You could sit there all day, watching her, and, well, that's probably just what Karina wants. She has effectively just said don't try to do any work, sit there and think about fucking me instead.

A few emails later she's still there, leaning to reach the lower shelves, arching her back and showing you everything. Your commitment wanes by the second, just staring, thinking and wanting, it's like torture. "How can I focus while you're just there? In front of me?" You ask her directly at last, leaving your chair, walking past and watching her over her shoulder, pressing a kiss onto the side of her neck.

"What's wrong, sir? Have I done something wrong? Please don't fire me, I'll do anything." You stand directly behind her, nose in her neck, your hands resting on her hips, before sliding down and cupping her round ass. Karina fakes a stammer in her voice, "Sir, that's... that's..."

She doesn't resist. Your hands slip between her legs and stroke her underwear. You can feel how wet she is by just grazing over her. "I didn't hire you to be pretty, slutty and wet, you know? I hired you to work."

Karina pushes back into you, grinding against your fingers, wanting more than a tease. "Sir, I thought those were the only reasons you hired me."

You grip the band of her panties, before tugging them down her thighs. Karina grips the bookshelf, pushing her ass out towards you. "You really want to earn a tip?"

"Yes sir, a big, hard, throbbing, long tip..." Karina purrs, squirming against you, trying to get some stimulation where she needs it most, pushing her wet slit back towards you.

You plant one firm palm between her shoulder blades, using a hard force to pin her against the bookcase. Your fingertips travel down between her legs and you slip one inside her, causing her to inhale sharply through clenched teeth.

You follow this with another. They slide right in with a groan. You whisper in her ear, "How can a maid clean when she is so dirty? Look at the mess you are dripping down your leg." You say that with a tinge of aggression even if you're really happy about it. "It's going to get on my floor. The very floor you should be keeping clean."

"I can mop it all up. I'm so sorry." Her voice is an irresistible plea as you massage her soaked insides. "You can even make a mess of me if you want, then I will clean it all up. You will think I'm the very best maid."

"Want to be a good maid?" You spit onto the floor by her foot. "Get down there and clean that up. Quick." Karina immediately descends and begins licking your saliva off the floor.

You lower to your own knees, right behind her, and push your trousers down again, pulling your hardened, still-wet, cock free once more. Karina's licks are frantic—even if there's nothing left on the floor, you order her to continue until it's spotless while you take hold of her hips in a firm, dominant grasp.

You guide her body as needed as you press yourself against her pussy, running your stiffened cock over her flesh. "You clean that floor well and I'll give you a very... very big tip."

"Yes sir," is a repeated series of eager replies punctuated by soft groans, as you grind your shaft against her, lubing yourself up with her sticky juices. She shudders in your grasp and quivers every time the tip of your cock brushes across her clit.

Her attention falters with each one, causing her tongue to get slower. "Keep... Cleaning. You're not done yet." You hold your cock right at her entrance, and she pushes back, a subtle attempt to get you in her, she gets as much as the first inch before you pull back out.

Karina cries out at the teasing, "Nooo, please, put it inside me, sir." She glances back at you, and there's a glaze over those hazel eyes. Desperation.

"Keep licking," you tease Karina, pushing the head of your cock into her and out, never quite fucking her but driving her crazy. "Show me how clean you can get my floor. Then I'll fuck you... Hard... You want that, don't you?"

"Yes," she pants and shivers, unable to even formulate more of a sentence.

You reach up for the back of her dress, the black fabric held together by a white string, which you easily pull free. You keep pulling and it all unwinds from her, exposing her beautiful pale skin down to her lower back. Her breathing speeds as the reality sets in, you're taking control, pulling off her clothing, baring her. You grab the dress, yanking it down her body, and she doesn't even wear a bra so those heavy tits hang freely.

You return a palm to her upper back, pinning her to the floor. You readjust your position behind her.

Now she is near-nude, pressed flush against the cold and wet floor, and you're leaning over her. You steady your grasp back on her waist, taking her firmly. "What do you want?"

"I want payment for my services, sir, in the form of a big, hot load in my slutty, little pussy," Karina moans. She feels vulnerable now, underneath you as you lean over her back.

You begin to press inside her, feeling all of that clinging wetness, hearing her little noises. Slowly at first, before increasing your intensity, driving inside of her all the way. As you do, you speak over her, "Paid in sex? Paid in cum? And where will it go after we're done?"

"I'll keep it inside me, sir, so there's no mess. You can even dump it all inside my ass, and then I will make sure it all stays there." Karina quivers under you, her back is so slender and delicate, smooth as silk. You run your fingers across her spine and see her skin ripple and her butt rise slightly upwards in response.

"Think I might just do that then..." You begin to build up a rhythm inside her, picking up momentum. She seems so delicate and weak under you, everything Karina usually is not. She's whimpering already, a sign of how desperately horny she is, how she wants to be yours. You grip the soft flesh of her ass and then give a slap with your palm, leaving a red mark.

"Thank you, sir." There's a sincere sense of submission in Karina, which you drink up. She enjoys this change of pace just as much as you do.

You slip a thumb between her cheeks and run it up and down her crack. You prod her hole, eliciting another high-pitched whine from her lips and her insides tighten around you which feels fucking amazing. You gather more of the sticky juices leaking down from her pussy, moistening your thumb further and begin pressing your finger more firmly into her, inching the first knuckle up inside her ass.

With each press inside, a squeal leaves her lips, though her words beg for more, "Give me more, sir, don't stop, it's so good... Thank you!"

Karina is reacting like crazy, it is unlike her to be this sensitive, in the moment, she doesn't allow anyone to control her, but this is everything to her now. You push deeper into her, and deeper, and with a little more resistance, all the way inside. Now you're pressed to the hilt, all the way inside Karina's pussy, and thumb-deep inside her ass at the same moment, drawing more delicious, delicate noises from her, turning your beautiful domineering woman into a helpless mess of blissful whimpers.

Keeping your length inside her, you work your thumb with a twist and a push and you let your spit spill onto her hole, slicking it and making the movement smoother. You use your spare hand to brush over the cheeks and grope. Karina trembles violently, moaning, pushing herself backwards on your digit. She loves having you deep inside her like this, both holes stuffed.

There are so many things that you could say, so many taunts, so many vulgar things, but to bask in the revelry of Karina being a messy submissive girl is to not even need to say them, her expressions, noises, reactions and the pure depravity of it are more than enough for you. This is it.

This is it.

You pull from her cunt and cock back your thumb, ready to replace it with all the pumped-up eagerness of a man possessed, and then you spread her wide. Little to stop you as you slide forward, plunging into the warm and snug grip of her ass. She cries out in response to your breach, making those cute, sexy noises all over again, as you slowly slide into her, gritting your own teeth and groaning as you bury yourself completely within the grip of Karina's asshole, every bit as intense and delightful as you knew it would be.

"God you've got the best ass," you say with a growl. "Fit to take everything I have."

Karina could say anything, sarcastic or clever, or maybe something born out of depravity, but she can barely summon up anything more than an approving murmur. The kind of sound a girl makes when her mind isn't here anymore, focused on a single, wonderful feeling—being stuffed and stretched out.

Your hands caress the supple skin of Karina's ass as you begin to withdraw, holding the soft flesh between your fingers and taking handfuls of her.

Karina clutches, clawing at the floor, but says nothing, letting the sensations take her away, overwhelmed. Just her moans and the deep gasping breath through her nose as you roll your hips into her, grinding and stroking over her and causing her to go so rigid and tense. Her eyes roll back as you lose yourself within her.

A rhythm forms and you're barrelling towards giving her the mess she wants inside her ass. She strains to say, "Fuck my ass. Fuck it. Fuck it and then fill it. Want you so deep. Want all that cum."

Your fingernails dig in, gouging red scratches on her pale ass cheeks as you squeeze her tighter. Karina's hole grows snugger and hotter by the second as if the warmth and depth were begging for what Karina had voiced—an ass full of cum. You certainly want that, and the faster and rougher your hips work the closer it is. "Love filling all your tight holes."

"Do it, cum," Karina moans.

Hard and fast it arrives, the need that you can't prevent. You erupt within her. Violent spasms accompany your filling of her ass, of what must be the most satisfying, taboo orgasm of your life (so far). She takes it all so beautifully, moaning and squealing as she fills up.

No mess. None at all. "So full," she whines. No mess but the one in her.

You lean down, head at her shoulder as you catch your breath, and she cranes her head to nuzzle against you, reaching up to touch your cheek and make eye contact with you through heavy-lidded, satisfied eyes. In that gaze, she doesn't have a smirk or any sort of mischief, just a pleased look of joy, appreciation, and perhaps even a desire for more. You'd be lying to yourself if you didn't say you shared the feeling.

You leave her there, slumped onto the floor, ass in the air. Her little maid outfit is barely even affixed to her body anymore, crumpled and hanging around her midsection. The skin of her ass still bears the marks of your nails. She remains where you have left her. Karina's face and breasts smudge and push against the floor with each breath she takes. The room smells of sex, her, the two of you.

"Clean yourself up. Clean my office up," you instruct her while buckling yourself back up before heading for the door.

Karina coughs once, then admits, "I don't know if I can manage that. Maybe we need a real maid."

[imnameimswrld]

. . . ⵌ ׄ ۪ 𝐒𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 ¹ ׄ ⑅ MV1 ‌˖ ֺ ᰮ

— DESCRIPTION ੭ in short, you're done standing back when mr verstappen thinks he can push around your boyfriend like he wants.

— PAIRING ੭ max verstappen x gf!reader.

— FILE ੭ imagine.

— DISCLAIMERS ੭ 🔞 mdni, suggestive content, language, light mention of verbal abuse, max's parents are still together and he's dad's a total ass, also (currently) unedited.

❪ main masterlist | f1 masterlist | max verstappen masterlist ❫

━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🖤 ❫━━━━━━━━━━

Dinner was going so perfectly; aside from the lovely food, you too indulged in all the hilarious and adorable stories Mrs Verstappen had been so vibrantly been dishing out for you. Max was red in the face with embarrassment, your hand comfortable in his as he caresses it in his lap.

His siblings would join in on the conversation whenever they saw the opportune moment to shut down whatever lie their brother concocted on the spot to try and get himself out of a playful scolding from his mom, and it all just warmed your heart to see how happy he seemed in the moment.

But then, someone just had to speak up from his quiet spot at the head of the table and piss all over his content mood.

"Max, meet me outside for a drink. I'd like to talk to you."

To the ears of a stranger Mr Verstappen's words would sound like a simple request, to which Max could easily decline and just continue sitting in the comfortability of his family. However, you've been around for long enough to recognize that tone; it's no request.

It's an order.

His father stands, wine glass in hand, and steps away without another word as he leaves towards the back door. Once he's gone, a shivering silence settles over the table. His siblings look everywhere but their brother, Mrs Verstappen all but sighs softly and starts to clean up the table, and Max stares done at your hand in his.

"Max," you start, tightening your grip. "Just, stay here," you try, and when he looks up with a small smile that does nothing but claw at your heart, you try another tactic. "Or let's just go home. We can have some ice-cream, watch that weird documentary you're you're obsessed with, I can even-"

"I'll be only a few minutes schatjie, then we can leave, okay ?" he rubs over your hand, probably hoping it would ease your racing your heart.

It doesn't.

"Max," you begin again, hesitant eyes watching as he rises from his chair beside you and gently places your hands in your own lap.

"Help mom clean up, will you please ? I'll be back in a minute love." you want to protest yet again, but nothing comes out of you parted lips when he places a kiss to the crown of your head, before walking away, softly shutting the sliding door to the backyard behind him.

Taking a breath, you try to calm yourself as you stand to help Mrs Verstappen with clearing the table. You try your best to focus on anything else, but knowing that all his father is doing right now is being mean and belittling his son is gnawing at your insides in a way that has molten hot anger simmering in your gut.

Everyone in Max's family are such lovely, kind people – and then you get his poor excuse of a father.

You don't even realise you have the ends of the table cloth balled up in your molded right fists until there's a sharp poke in your ribs. Turning, you gaze meets eyes that so closely resemble Max's, it almost always makes you smile.

"Go." Victoria nods her head towards the back door, and you momentarily look back, before meeting his eyes that match the worry you feel inside.

It's just one word, but it holds all the emotions she's feeling and with hos strong they are, it gives you the green light. With a short nod, you turn on your heel and take long, determined strides towards the glass door.

When you open it, it seems your disrupt the conversion at just the right moment.

"She's going to become a distraction, Max. All you've worked for and currently working towards, is going to be for nothing."

"I sorely disagree, sir."

The two men's heads whirl at the sudden entrance of your voice, and the confidence that colours your face has Max weak in his knees, feeling as if he's falling in love with you all over again.

His father's spine straightens at the sight of you as you join Max by his side, his arm instinctively coming up to rest his hand at the small of your back.

"This conversation does not concern you, Ms L/N."

You hum once with a bitter smile. "From what I heard, Mr Verstappen, it seems as it does."

He locks his jaw, hand tightening around his wine glass so harshly you think it's just seconds from shattering in his hand.

"Max, I've told you to keep this one in check before she-"

"Do not speak of her as if she's not right in front of you, Jos," Max's gaze darkens to the blue of the bottom of the ocean, and it has your insides curling in pride.

He only ever truly gets upset when his father disrespect you, otherwise he just stands quietly to entertain the nonsense coming out of his mouth, knowing he'll soon leave and enjoy all the true love you shower him I'm everyday later.

"And quite frankly, I like my girlfriend exactly how she is," he smirks, fingers massaging the revealing skin of your back from the cropped shirt you were wearing. "Snippy tongue and all."

It's true, you smile; he especially loves it when you have that same tongue down his throat, or wrapped around his cock.

It seems Max has that same thought in mind, because despite his father's furious gaze staring down at him, he can't seem to rid the naughty smirk from hid face, his hand now sliding down to fall into your back pocket.

He squeezes once, and you bite down on your tongue to keep the moan back.

"Now, if you're done trying to convince me what a failed son I am, I'm going to head home with my snippy-tongued girlfriend." he pats your jean-clad ass one softly, before pulling his hand to wrap his arm around your waist.

"Dag Jos. Ik hoop dat ik je blijf irriteren, het is mijn favoriete spel ( Bye Jos. I hope I continue to piss you off, it's my favouritesport !) !" you wave your fingers in an obnoxious manner, smile so sweet you hope it rots every damned tooth in his shitty mouth.

Max's deep, honey-draped chuckle rings in your ear, his voice low in the most pussy-wetting manner. "You know what you speaking Dutch does to me, schatjie."

Batting your eyelashes, you smile. "Oh, ik weet het (Oh, I know)."

A gravely groan resonates from his throat, his bany blues trained down on your glossy lips. "Ik kan niet wachten om je te neuken (I can't wait to fuck you)."

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✍: I might be writing a part 2, but that one will contain smut soooo if you're not into reading that, don't ! ♡ ... but if you arrreeeeee, hehe, stay tuned 🎀.

[sytoran]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟏𝟐 — 𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐌

kinktober day 012 | agent!peggy x lieutenant!reader

you're eating your wife out under her office desk as she speaks to - or least, attempts to speak to - her military soldiers. tinged with the angst of a classic 1940s 'forbidden' sapphic romance.

cont. office sex, fingering, edging, angst (what a combo) word count. 2065

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

“Oh, babe, m’so close,” Peggy gasps in pleasure, gripping onto the handles of her arm chair, as your fingers curl inside her pretty cunt.

“Almost there already?” you tease, mouthing at her pretty breasts and leaving light marks with your teeth. “I haven’t even been here that long, Agent Carter.”

“Enough with the Agent Car- Oh, just shut up and fuck me properly,” she responds exasperatedly, hands twisting into the navy green of your military uniform. You move your fingers in tight little circles, smirking as she throws her head back.

These forbidden little trysts that always ended up in Peggy’s office fed into every one of your desires and fantasies. As much as the element of ‘forbidden’ excited you to no end, there was always this sick little want in your mind to show Peggy off, show everyone how good you made her feel, show everyone that you were the only person who could make her feel like this.

Today is no different, the both of you in Peggy’s office. You had purposefully left the door closed but unlocked, only with the woman’s reluctant agreement. That thought in itself, that any of her soldiers could see her unravelling like this — that thought made you so, so wet.

When Peggy brings her hands up your shirt to palm at your tensed abdomen, you feel a surge of arousal, and it causes you to slam the back of her chair against her office desk with need. Peggy whines beautifully as you tower over her with purpose, hands wrapping around her pretty neck to kiss her.

You get lost in the haze of lust, only registering Peggy’s stifled moans and those pathetic whimpers, only registering her warmth and wetness clenching needily around your fingers.

“Coming!” Peggy cries out, and just as you’re about to push your fingers once more against her sweet spot, there’s a knock on the door.

“Agent Carter, it’s important,” a gruff male voice sounds from behind the door.

You halt your movements, eyes locking with the brunette, fingers stilling themselves inside her cunt.

You don’t miss the way Peggy’s eyes dart to the door in fear, her breath hitching, but her hips still trying to chase that pleasure.

It excites you.

“You have to go,” Peggy squirms under your grasp that holds her still. “We can’t be seen-”

“You want me to jump out the window of the sixth floor?” you ask seriously, helping to button up her blouse. She looks so pretty, with her face flushed and her lipstick smeared. You swipe a thumb along the bottom of her lip to clean it up, and Peggy looks at you pleadingly.

“Agent Carter, it’s the 107th Infantry Regiment here to see you.”

With a determined huff, Peggy lifts up a leg and promptly kicks you under her desk, the heel getting you in the side. “Come in,” she says loudly, glaring at you as your face screws up in pain.

Eyes narrowing at her brattiness, you reach up from under the desk and pull off the entirety of Peggy’s grey skirt in one fluid motion just as the door swings open, leaving her completely bare and vulnerable from the waist down. Her panties were still in your pocket, saved for further use.

Peggy lets out a strangled sound of frustration mixed with pleasure as she rolls her armchair into place, hiding her nudity from view of the entering soldiers. This means that you’re face-level with her bare, glistening cunt, and it doesn’t take a genius to find out what you’d do with that.

“Agent,” the soldiers chorus as you make yourself comfortable under the table. You’re seated cross-legged, gripping at Peggy’s thighs, mouth dangerously close to her throbbing cunt.

“R-Right, this better be important,” Peggy begins, clearing her throat and trying to regain her composure. Her hands are clammy, nails digging into her palms in an attempt to calm her growing arousal.

Your hot breath is on her wetness, unbelievably simulating, and your presence under her desk while her soldiers were in the same room was electrifying.

“It is,” that same gruff voice sounds, and you recognize it as Bucky Barnes. He was a bit too arrogant for your liking, and you detested the way he looked at Peggy sometimes. 

She was yours.

Your hands slide up the length of Peggy’s bare legs, dragging goosebumps along with the gentle touch, then grabbing fistfuls of the sides of her ass.

Peggy jerks in her seat, and you can imagine her sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

“Is something the matter, ma’am?” another voice asks. It’s Steve Rogers, Mr. Captain America. You feel another round of jealousy coursing through your bloodstream. It was no secret around camp that he had a puppy love for your lady.

You wrap your bulky, muscled arms around her big thighs, forcefully prying them apart as your tongue pushes into the slit of her leaking pussy. Peggy was already sensitive from before, and the sensation of your long tongue entering her cunt made Peggy let out a disguised moan. 

“I- oh, I- I think that I’m just a bit unwell today,” the agent says with a quavering voice, forcing a polite smile onto her face in an attempt to hide the pleasured expression that fights its way there.

“Sorry to hear that, Agent Carter,” Steve offers sympathetically. “We’ll make this quick. We've got new intel on the Red Skull and we think he's a more dangerous threat than we initially envisioned."

When you start dragging your tongue up and down in long stripes, teasing at Peggy’s entrance but not truly letting her experience a high, she knows that her squelching sounds would be embarrassingly loud if she didn’t do something. 

Peggy reaches for the remote and turns up the Stark-sponsored fan to its highest setting. The loud whirring sound creates more noise, and you gladly take the opportunity to dive into her cunt, tongue lapping fervently at the wet heat like you were worshipping a sacred temple.

“I’m just – oh, Christ – have a – mhm, bit of a fever going,” Peggy says brokenly, fanning at herself with an awkward chuckle. She’s screaming internally, your mouth buried in her pussy like you would nest in there forever.

"Right,” Bucky says with a raised eyebrow. “So we thought we might need more backup before our infiltration into the HYDRA base. The senior-rank soldiers, Agent Carter, if you could allow us that permission."

Peggy nods, the words going in one ear and flying out the other. Your fingers are in action now, as well, 

"We know that it's a last-minute change,” another soldier says, and Peggy looks in his general direction but she can’t even focus on how he looks like to recognise him. Her vision is swimming, her thoughts are dizzying.

The centre of her universe was you.

She was so close. So, so close.

But you leave her hanging there, at the edge of a precipice, between inexplicable pleasure and unrecoverable shame.

Peggy almost sobs.

"Changes like that have to be made in the face of all possible scenarios,” Peggy says, clamping her thighs around your head. It helps fractionally with the overwhelming arousal, and the agent desperately seizes that small chance. “I appreciate you all coming to me with this information. It should take a bit of paperwork to settle but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Agent Carter,” Steve says sincerely, and you roll your eyes under the desk at the stupid smile you can hear in his voice. She was yours. You push your fingers in a little deeper.

Fuck, Peggy needs it. Needs to release all that pent-up arousal.

"Oh, Agent Carter, have you seen Lieutenant L/N? We want to ask her about the added arms and ammunition," you hear Bucky ask, and you almost snort into Peggy’s dripping cunt.

"No, I don't suppose I've seen her around,” Peggy forces out, trying to subtly grind her hips against your face. She’s that desperate, that needy for the pleasure you’re dangling in front of her. 

You’d been edging her, controlling her pleasure like you were a puppeteer and she was your marionette. 

She needs it. She needs it or she’s going to die.

"Is that all?"

“Yes, Ma’am,” Bucky answers, and following his lead are the rest of the soldiers who leave Peggy’s office in an orderly manner.

Your two fingers curl in the glory of her dampened cunt, tongue still lapping at the flowing nectar that tastes like honey to your lips.

Finally, Peggy cries internally. Finally, she can get her sought-after release—

"Peggy," Steve begins desperately, putting his hands on the edge of the desk you’re sitting under. He’d hung around while the others had filed out, clearly wanting to speak to the agent.

Oh, fuck no.

Peggy wants to cry in frustration at her prolonged denial of pleasure, and you fume in deadly silence. How dare he address her by her first name, with more fondness than a close friend. How dare he think he’s good enough for your Peggy–

"About that dance I asked you to-" Steve continues, none the wiser to the raging conflict going on beneath the surface.

Your fingers thrust deep into Peggy’s sweet spot, and a lewd squelch sounds, and it takes everything in her willpower not to cry out your name. Steve is too flustered to notice, and Peggy thanks the heavens for his oblivious nature.

"I'm not–, in- oh, interested, Rogers. Exit my office now.”

By the grace of some God, Steve takes ‘no’ as an answer. The dejected man hangs his head, turning around in resolution. Peggy’s vision is blurring, not because she feels for Rogers, but because the amount of pleasure you’re filling her to the brim with.

She can feel you, gripping the flesh of her thighs and leaving dark fingerprints, your tongue ever so languidly tracing the outline of her dripping hole, just waiting for the opportune moment like a predator about to pounce on its prey.

The door’s barely clicked shut before you’re making the most carnal noises into Peggy’s cunt, tongue diving deeper than what she thought was physically possible. “Oh, mhmm, fuck!” she cries, head thrown back as she weaves her fingers into your hair.

“You have no idea,” you growl, throwing both of Peggy’s legs over your shoulders to give you better access. “No fuckin’ idea how much I wanted to make you cum in front of that good-for-nothin’. Make him see you become such a fucking slut for me.”

Peggy mewls, practically humping your face, so insanely desperate for you to make her feel good. She can’t differentiate your rough hands or your long tongue, stimulating her across her whole body, like a raging fire has been ignited and it can’t be doused.

“Please,” Peggy pants, one of her hands going to grip the top of her armchair, trying to reach a semblance of non-existent control. “Oh,” she moans, husky and low, when your nose bumps against her enlarged clit. You proceed to do it repeatedly, and Peggy’s frighteningly close to passing out from sheer pleasure.

“Say you’re mine,” you whisper, almost unheard. 

Peggy hears the desperation in your voice. Like she’s not the only one who’d die without your touch. Like she’s more than just a simple game of cat-and-mouse. Like you’re not the forsaken lovers who’ll go down in the history books as ‘best friends’.

Like the two of you could ever be something more.

But it doesn’t matter, not now when she’s crying for your touch, and not ever.

“I’m yours,” Peggy answers, with more resolution in her voice than any military call, with more steadfastness in her voice than she would ever care to admit. It’s a promise, a sacred one, and with that the two of you were bound.

All it takes is a harsh curl of your fingers into Peggy’s sweet spot that has her coming undone, ropes and seals unwinding for the maker that is you. 

Wave after wave of pleasure rolls over Peggy’s body, white-hot liquid making its way into the crooks and crevices of your face Peggy found her religion in.

The look that passes between the two of you as Peggy finally topples over the ledge is unsaid. It doesn’t need to be said. It can’t be said.

I’m with you till the end of the line.

"in the crooks of your body, i find my religon." -sappho

how was the characterization of peggy? it's my first time writing for her, and it was pretty interesting as compared to writing for natasha and wanda. i mean, peggy's speech is generally more refined, and i would think she would be more prudish about sex in general. (my personal opinion, i've never watched her series)

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

[coldfanbou]

A Different Kind of Facial

Day 15 is a massage with TIffany.

Length 1.4K

Tiffany x mreader

Your parlor was nothing special in size or looks, but it had a particular reputation among female idols. As you write down some notes, you hear the small bell from the doorway ring. You look up and recognize the figure walking toward you as Tiffany of Girl’s Generation. You can’t help but stare at her as she walks toward you with her arms crossed under her chest, inadvertently pushing up her modest breasts. She snaps her fingers at you, bringing you back to reality. She smiles, feeling a little satisfied with your stare. “Hello, I had an appointment.” 

“Yes, of course. Tiffany,” you reply, standing up and leading her to the massage room. “Undress however much you’d like; I’ll be back in a few minutes.” You tell her before leaving the room. You clean up your desk before heading back inside. Dimming the lights in the room, you look to the corner and spot Tiffany’s clothes sitting on the chair you left there. Her bra and panties are clearly laid on top as if to tell you she’s naked. Looking over at the older woman, she covered her lower back with a towel. Your eyes wander upward; you notice her breasts squished as she lies face down on the table. 

“How did you hear about me?” You ask. It’s a question you give to most idols. At this point, you know it was word of mouth, but it’s a good conversation starter.

“Oh, you know, girls talk. One of your other customers told me you provide great massage, the best kind of stress reliever.” She replies. You start the massage by dragging your hands along her smooth back, feeling it out before placing your hands in the center and giving it a soft press. 

“I see, and what made you decide to come?”

“Well, Taeyeon gave you so much praise. I had to come and find out for myself what you were all about.” You both chuckle until Tiffany gives a slight moan.

“I see my massage is already working wonders.” Tiffany tries to think of something to say, but while she is, moans continue flowing. You move around her back, kneading the most tense spots. You move lower, your hands touching the towel that covers Tiffany’s ass. “Excuse me.” You say as you remove the towel and continue to move downward. You move your hand down her thigh, feeling her tense muscles. You’re standing far enough away to see Tiffany’s pussy now that the towel is gone.

“Do you like what you see?” You squeeze Tiffany’s legs. You continue without saying a word. Both hands on her left thigh, you squeeze it and slowly move down. Tiffany lets her moans ring out. Your fingers along run along the inside of her thigh, brushing against her slit. The sudden influx of pleasure makes her moans grow louder. Every time you place your hands at the top of her thigh, you make sure your fingers touch her. You feel her getting wet; her juices begin to coat your fingers. 

“I guess Taeyeon was right about you,” Tiffany says as she turns her head to look at you.

“Flip over, please,” Tiffany does so. You see her wet slit now and her modest tits. Your hands move to her stomach and move upwards to her breasts. You knead her small mounds, her hardened nipples between your fingers, and you pinch them lightly. Tiffany’s moans are constant, and one of her hands moves down to her slit. It moves in small circular motions around her clit. Seeing how turned on she was gave you a bulge. One that didn’t go unnoticed. Tiffany reaches for your bulge, caressing it through your pants. You both know what follows; you unzip your pants and drop them. Her hand strokes your now-free cock while you massage her tits. Taking notice of her full lips, you walk to the end of the table where her head is. You adjust Tiffany, moving her body up until her head hand over the end of the massage table. She opens her mouth wide, her hand moving around her cunt quicker.

Sliding your cock inside her, you feel her lips wrap themselves tightly around you. You push further in slowly, watching Tiffany’s throat expand because of your cock. You pull on her nipples, making her moan. “Let it all out, Tiffany. This is for your relaxation.” You start thrusting. Tiffany’s tongue swirls around your cock at the same pace. Her muffled moans continue as she pushes her fingers inside her cunt. It was entertaining to you to see an idol be so depraved. Most of the time, they were hesitant, but Tiffany was being more proactive. You start thrusting faster, and Tiffany’s saliva coats your cock. Some of it falls off your shaft and paints her face, ruining her pretty face. Tiffany enjoys the taste of your cock; her tongue focuses on the head, where it’s rewarded with some of your precum. 

Your cock begins to throb inside of Tiffany, not wanting to, so soon you pull out. You slap her face with your saliva cover cock. Tiffany keeps her mouth open, waiting and wanting you to put it back in her. "Consider this part of our facial package." You tell her as you give her one last slap.

You move around the table before climbing onto it. Lifting Tiffany’s legs, you put them together, her thighs rubbing against each other as she anticipates what you’ll do next. You place your cock between her thighs; it rubs against her cunt as you thrust. She hangs her head off the table and moans while groping her breasts. Your cock begins to slide faster as her nectar rubs off on you; the sound of your hips smacking against her legs bounces off the walls. “Are you satisfied by this, or would you like more?”

“Fuck me. It’s not enough to just have it rubbing against me.” You give Tiffany what she wants and place your cock at her entrance, you give her a moment. Letting her anticipate your cock before spearing her with the entire length. “Oh fucking-” Tiffany can’t get the last word out as moans fill her throat. You pin her arms to the side of the table and thrust with all your strength. Tiffany’s walls are clenched tightly around your cock. You lean forward, nearly bending her in half as you pound away at her small body. You enjoy the feeling of her cunt gripping you, her warm and wet walls still letting you slide in with ease. Tiffany’s leg muscles are tight; they’re flexed as she cries out in pleasure.  Tiffany’s body lurches forward inches as you thrust; it would be more if you weren’t holding her down. “I think I’m cumming,” Tiffany moans loudly.

“Then cum, you’ll feel all the more relaxed.” You drive your cock deep into Tiffany again, her walls tighten further, and you hear her cry out in pleasure as she cums. Tiffany’s body shakes and shudders as she feels the ultimate pleasure course through her. You keep moving inside her, enjoying her walls, trying to milk you. “I’m getting close. Where do you want my cum?” 

“Cum on my face, paint me, ruin my pretty face. Give me that special facial. ” She moans. You thrust a few more times before climbing off Tiffany; she rolls off the table and kneels before you. Her soft hand grasps your cock, moving back and forth quickly as she tries to get you to cum. You put your hand on her head as you feel your cock start throbbing. A second later cum spurts out of your cock and onto Tiffany’s face. She closes her eyes and welcomes the warm liquid; she even sticks her tongue out, letting some fall onto it. It covers her eyes and the bridge of her nose. Cum drips off her face onto her body, slowly rolling down it until it hit the floor. Tiffany collects some before it has the chance to fall and gives it a taste, sucking on her fingers.

You walk away while she does that and grab a camera to take a picture of her in that position. "I hope you liked your facial." The polaroid film comes out the bottom, giving it time to develop; you hand it to her after. “It’s yours to keep; I do this to all first-time customers. You are free to do what you like with it. Oh, and before I forget, please come again.” 

Tiffany stands up, leaning against your body, her hard nipples poking your chest. With a beaming smile, she says, “Oh, I know I will. I’ll even recommend a few friends to come here.”

[throneofsapphics]

special plans

poly!Neris x f!Reader

summary: everything goes according to plan

warnings: predicament bondage, light degradation (use of ‘whore’)

kinktober masterlist

You were in a ... predicament, to say the least. You whimpered as you tried to look down at yourself, probably dripping all over the floor. Something you’d be made to clean up later, no doubt. 

You gasped, the pressure building inside of your ass, settling for arching your neck at an uncomfortable angle instead. There was no other alternative, not with the hook inside of your ass, tied to the end of your hair. 

“Breathe for me,” Nesta ordered, you did as cold oil dripped between your cheeks, one finger slipping inside after it. 

“You look beautiful, all pathetic like this,” Eris murmured, stroking your hair. You were laid across his lap, legs spread wide as Nesta knelt behind you. “Just couldn’t control yourself, could you?” He continued and you knew better than to reply. 

You’d probably say something snarky and make this so much worse. 

“Flirting with him right in front of our faces,” he tsked. 

“She’s a little whore,” Nesta said, and twisted her finger. Pleasure and pressure spread from your fingers to your toes, your muscles tightening reflexively. 

“Our little whore,” Eris emphasized. 

Whimpering, you studied the cracks under the dining table again. How long would they stretch their dinner on? They’d made you sit there and eat before them, not explaining why. Discussions of various court politics and procedures drifted past your ears. Normally it would be interesting but right now you couldn’t focus on a damn thing. 

You gave in, looking down again to release some of the pressure on your neck, just for your toes to curl, pleasure hitting all of your receptors this time but the pressure was wrong, angle was wrong, for you to actually get a result from it and you knew that was on purpose. 

Everything they did was purposeful. 

You were so close to being done, to the edge where you’d need to -

Chairs pushed back abruptly. Two faces crouched low to the floor to peer at you. Pride filled them. 

“Does our little whore need some release?” Nesta cooed. 

You couldn’t nod, biting your lip instead, mumbling “yes,”

Eris crooked his finger towards you, and you knew this was the last hurdle, get yourself out from under the fucking table. 

Half-crawling, you managed it, emerging between the two of them. 

Pins and needles racked up and down your legs but you didn’t care right now, right now you wanted your reward. 

Nesta released the tie on your hair, and ... you were exhausted as the pressure left, Eris caught your head so it didn’t snap forward, and sat you on his lap, facing out to where Nesta ... your eyes widened. 

You didn’t think you’d ever seen a more beautiful thing, the goddess before you kneeling and pressing a light kiss to the inside of your thigh. Each press of her lips was a soothing balm. She made her way up your body, so lovingly you could’ve sobbed for it by the time she reached your clit. 

Leaving your sensitive ass alone, she pushed two fingers inside of you, curling up to hit that spot, sucking your clit between her lips. Her lips felt like heaven on your body, your back arching and head falling back to rest on Eris’s shoulder, your legs thrown wide over his. 

He held you, let you fall back down to earth in his arms, Nesta’s hands running up and down your legs. 

“We’ll talk more about the scene tomorrow my love,” Eris pressed a kiss to your forehead, “but you did beautifully.” 

A happy hum, all you were capable of, left your chest and you buried yourself further into him. Your little plan, the one the three of you concocted together, worked out rather well for you. 

kinktober taglist: @fourthwing4ever @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy @erencvlt @daycourtofficial @emidpsandia @thelov3lybookworm @hannzoaks @callsigns-haze @throneofsmut

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze @littlest-w01f

[kurogane2512]

Kinktober 2023 day 1

Roleplay, collar and leash, overstimulation with....

Can be read as gn! reader (strap/cock is used)

"Kneel for me, Chief~" Eirene ordered with a smirk and a deep gaze, her azure eye glowing with a tint. You thought this would be a simple visit to discuss finances for the MBCC but things were taking an unexpected turn, not that you minded it. You walked towards her side of the table and crouched on one knee, looking up at her firmly. Eirene leaned forward and held your chin with her fingers, her nail brushing your lower lip.

"My, such a suitable position for you, Chief. You look so enticing~"

"What are you trying to do, Eirene?"

Eirene clicked her tongue, "That's not how you address me, Chief. I believe the correct term is...." she moved towards your ear to whisper in a sultry low voice, "...Mistress~"

Oh, that's how she wanted to play this. Fine, you would comply for MBCC's sake. Eirene opened a lower drawer in her table and searched for something until your ears perked up at a clinking sound and you saw a collar in her hand. She proceeded to put the collar around your neck followed by attaching a metallic chain to it acting as a leash.

"Such an adorable sight, Chief. You seem all ready to please your mistress~"

She tugged on the leash and pulled you closer, your head lying on her milky thighs as her fingers brushed your hair softly before grabbing a heap and pulling your face up to meet her eyes.

"You will listen to your mistress like a good pet, won't you, Chief?~"

You gulped and nodded, gradually feeling aroused by this whole enactment. She parted her legs open for you to look at her glistening cunt, shaven clean and fair.

"Come here, my pet~"

She tugged on the leash again and your face was captured between her thighs now, your nose touching her clit as your mouth was firm against her folds. You settled your hands on her inner thighs and gently rubbed them as you started licking her clit making her sigh in satisfaction while resting back on her chair. Your tongue lapped up her outer folds, tasting her sweet and intoxicating essence as it dripped from her accompanied by her breathy moans.

"W-What a good pet....mhm....not bad, Chief~ Perhaps....ngh~ Perhaps you should take up this job and leave your precious MBCC, I'll pay you well~"

Eirene chuckled but soon moaned loudly as you thrusted your tongue inside her walls, catching her by surprise. Her thighs enclosed around your head more and her back arched, pulling on the leash to make you come closer with one hand while the other grasped your hair and pushed you deeper. You held up her thighs and plunged at a deeper angle, her head shooting back with a loud moan feeling your tongue prod at her sensitive spots.

Her moans became much louder than before, it genuinely surprised you how undignified she sounded at this moment, a complete contrast to her usual noble state. Her chair creaked from her ministrations, gradually shifting away until being stopped by the wall behind. She tugged the leash feeling the distance between your tongue and her pussy, and you obediently moved closer and thrusted inside again.

"Aaahn! Yes! F-Fuck!~ Good pet....make your mistress cum just like this!~"

You sucked on her clit to draw out her essence and she came in no time, squirting over your mouth with an arch of her back and an unruly yet exquisite moan. She panted out and came down from her high while you cleaned up her juices, earning a satisfied pat on your head.

"Not bad for your first job, pet. But we are far from done~"

She opened the drawer again and this time took out a strap on then stood up to walk and you also scuffled on your feet to follow her as she pulled you by the leash towards the couch. With a newfound fervour, both of your clothes were thrown away and she fastened the strap around you before pushing you on the couch and straddling your lap.

"Please me more. Satisfy me for the night and I'll consider your deal~"

She aligned the cock on her folds and pushed it deep inside as she sat down in one ago, moaning out at the penetration. She wasted no time and began rocking back n forth, gripping your shoulders tightly to balance herself. You held her waist and thrusted up into her then continued pounding against her hips, slapping sounds of your skin resounding in the office. Eirene hissed and wrapped her arms around your neck to embrace you, your head getting buried in her ample chest while she rode you harder.

You placed kisses and bites on her neck, your fingers digging in her hips as an idea occurred to you. You smirked as you buried your face in the crook of her neck and focused your shackles on her, a burning electrical sensation running through her body that made her gasp and hold you even tighter.

"A feisty pet I have....aaah....I have for myself~ You'll pay f-for that...mhm!~"

"I just want to please you, mistress~"

You turned to the side and placed her on the couch then wrapped her legs around your waist and pounded into her with no mercy. Her body felt weak at the overwhelming sensations, sweat covering her skin and the intense feeling from the shackles still lingering in her. But the shackles also conveyed your deep lustful desire for her and she wanted you more. She tugged the leash all of a sudden and crashed your lips together in a heated and sloppy kiss.

"More....faster....!~" she whimpered against your lips and you sat back up to hold her waist and thrust more. You watched her beautiful state beneath you; her gorgeous hair splayed all over and her breasts bouncing with every thrust. Your hips drilled into her harder, your thighs smacking against hers and you could feel another orgasm building up in her as her walls tightened around your cock making it harder for you to move.

A wave of pleasure washed over her as she came again, more intensely than before. Her body arched and a loud breathy moan escaped her lips as you buried the cock to the hilt and made her cum hard, her juices coating the dick as you pulled it out. You expected to rest but it seems she still had more in her as she sat up and turned over standing on all fours and looking back at you with a smirk. The Quinn CEO was truly a force to be reckoned with.

[luvliewriting]

❦❦❦

Imagine: First Kiss

Warnings: Mostly just fluff, maybe some hints of ns/fw for some

Notes: I'm willing to turn any of these concepts into actual fics if requested

Includes: The Gallagher siblings

❦❦❦

Fiona <3

You worked with her at the diner and it was time for closing, it was just you two cleaning up before you turned the lights out. You kept eyeing her from across the diner; seeing her bend over the tables, tuck her bottom lip under her teeth when she would scrub a stubborn spot, pushing back strands of hair that left her ponytail. It was torturous watching her like that. You knew she just got out of a relationship with Jimmy/Steve so you worried that maybe it would be too soon to tell Fiona how you felt but it was getting more to be harder everyday that you had to watch her and see her. Eventually you couldn't take it so you "accidentally" dropped one of the coffee cups and Fiona immediately offered to help you clean it up. When you two ducked to the back to toss the pieces of the cup, you pulled her back before she could return to cleaning and kissed her. To your surprise, she didn't try to push you off and even stayed back a bit longer after closing at the back of the diner with you

❦❦❦

Lip

It was the same as Karen, you were a little behind on history and Lip needed some extra money so he decided to tutor you. The first couple lessons were innocent enough, it stayed strictly as tutoring. But as the lessons went, you two got closer. He would scoot his chair closer to you, he would stay behind after the lessons for a bit to have a smoke and chill with you till it happened. You were scribbling on the paper aimlessly while Lip read the textbook to you and explaining what it meant in more detail not that you were listening, you were too busy admiring him and his voice but you tried to pay as good attention as you could. Your pencil slipped out your hand and rolled to the floor between you two. You both bent down to grab it, smacking your foreheads together as he groaned and you laughed. He was rubbing his forehead when he looked at you with those eyes, those eyes you could stare at for hours as you began to lean in, as did he till your lips touched. His hands snaking down to your butt and thighs, pulling you off of your chair and into his lap.

❦❦❦

Ian

Childhood friends, you two had grown up with each other and knew each other better than anyone else. He was your first crush and you were his but you were both two stubborn to admit. After Ian dumped Mickey, you were conflicted on what to do; you had a chance to either make your childhood fantasies come true or completely ruin a lifetime of friendship. It started with leaving little crumpled notes in places that he would find eventually, than turned into leaving articles of clothing at his place when you would sleepover till you eventually just flat out said that you wanted Ian in that way. You braced yourself for the rejection, turning to the door to leave his room till he grabbed you and smashed his lips against yours passionately finally admitting what he had wanted to say for years.

❦❦❦

Debbie

You met Debbie through Franny's school where you worked, she was by far your favourite of the mom's to converse with when they would come to pick up their kids. Debbie was typically the last parent to come pick up their kid, not that you complained. You absolutely adored Franny and you liked getting to catch up with Debbie. But one day, it was a Friday so you sat with Franny at one of the little tables waiting for Debbie to come pick her up while you ate lunch with Franny. Franny was eating her typical peanut butter and jelly, her mouth was full as she said "mommy keeps talking about you Mrs/Mr L/N". You weren't sure if you heard her right but she continued when her mouth wasn't full, "she says your name when she's in her room for private time." Okay you were sure you heard Franny right now and when Debbie came to pick up Franny, you decided to follow the two out to your car which was parked beside Debbie's. Debbie was in the car, Franny in her car seat and Debbie's window was rolled down as she talked to you. Eventually you just leaned in and pecked her lips, leaving Debbie flustered as you winked, "I'll see you tomorrow Miss Gallagher."

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Carl

You were at an arcade and challenged him to a game of basketball, Just for the fuck of it. You won of course, by pure dumb luck because athletics were not within your department. Carl tussled for the ball, demanding a rematch and you refused, screaming that he was being a sore loser. He chuckled and reached for the ball that your arms stretched to the back of your head, as it you really could evade him. It was like he planned it yet it also felt so improved, smug bastard. It was fast, his arm snaked around your waist and planted his lips on yours. You could be imagining things, but you could have swore Carl took a second to inhale you, taking you all in. For what felt like an eternity was over in a flash when you heard a thump on the floor. He got the ball and you were subjected to a rematch

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[magicgalatica]

Sweets

PART 1

Yandere! Leatherface/Thomas Hewitt (2006) x Baker! Female Reader

“…….”

——————————————————————————

Smell of sliced meat drifted up. Raw, drooling red. Sunlight beamed in through windows. Casting rays of warmth and heat.

Thunk Thunk Thunk!

Wood gently being chopped by a blade that pierced laid meat. Steak. Pork. Anything that a blade would grace itself with. A tall man stood, hovering. Black hair draped over his shoulders slightly. Mask covering his lower face towards his nose. Hiding whatever what maybe under it. Hazel eyes focusing. Rising his arm then swinging down. Slicing a large rib. Breathing slowly.

RIIIIIINNNNG!

He stopped. Clever at hand. Staring yet remained silent. Shift now ending. Letting out a breath. Eyes lingering on the meat that sat in front of him. As if he was contemplating. Hearing footsteps behind him. Not bothering nor interested to see who it was. Whoever it was stopped. Not close, just a few feet away. Thomas begins swinging down again before hearing a disgruntled voice speaking towards him.

“Oi. The shift is over. Go home ya animal.”

He stopped, holding the clever tightly. Looking at the man, who glared back at him. Eyes locked onto each other. Placing his clever to the side. Moving butchered meat into a container (or barrel). Slowly turning around after finishing. Glaring at the owner one last time before leaving his spot. His boots scraping wooden floors to dirt. Closing the steel door after he left. Letting out more breathes. Following his path. Silent. Feeling a cool breeze grazing him softly. Sunlight nabbing at him slowly. Taking more steps. Then a scent hits his nose. What seemed to be….. Cookies? This was new to him. Usually used to smell of raw meat. Curiosity slowly nawing at him. Following this newly scent. Seeing a small path. He took it. Continuing to trail it slowly. Letting out a breath. Before noticing a building a few feet away from a him.

A Bakery…

Has it always been here? He pondered in his thoughts for a second. Noticing it wasn’t far from town. Nestling by itself. Some chairs and tables settled outside. Gently pushing the door, heading a tiny bell going off. Then a voice spoke.

“Hello! I’ll be with you in one second!”

Raising his head. Taking a look at his surroundings. Seemingly the inside was a theme of western. Some wheels here and there. Bull skull hanging in front near the cashier. Soft music playing in background. Coffee freshly brewed with some tea that glowed from sunlight. Hearing clicking of boots. A female appears. H/c gently swaying a bit. Tying up her apron before moving her gaze up. Smiling.

“Hello! Welcome to Sweetie Bakery!”

Her voice sounded soft and calm. Not a hint of anger or disgust towards him. But he took notice of her nose twitching. Probably gaining a scent of dried blood on him. However she didn’t say anything. Not bothered.

“I’m Y/n! How can I help you today?”

“…….”

Thomas gazed at Y/n. Keeping his silence. He did move forward. Gazing at the options before him. He expected her to call him names or insult him under her breath.

But he heard nothing.

Y/n watched him with her e/c. Still smiling. Being patient. Allowing him to scan each option. He stopped, then gazed at Y/n.

“…….”

Y/n tilted her head a bit. Still gazing at him as he did back. Then his eyes slowly trail towards some pie. Mainly at Pecan Pie. Y/n, taking notice, smiles more at him.

“Would you like a sample?”

“………”

Y/n hummed, ducking down for a moment. Appearing up. Holding a plate with a fork. Setting it down. Placing on some gloves on. Grabbing a slice gently with a baking tool. Placing it onto the plate. Thomas reached for the fork. But Y/n, gently, tapped his hand.

“Hold on mister, let me get you a wet cloth show you can clean your hands for a second.”

Thomas looked at her. Seeing her turn away. Grabbing a cloth. Wetting it with warm water. Heading back over. Gesturing the cloth to him. Thomas gazed at it for a second. Taking it. He slowly wiped his hands to clear off any smell or remain of meat. Y/n gently takes back the cloth. Thomas grabs his fork. Cutting into this pecan pie. Jabbing into a piece. Rising it up to his mouth. Taking a bite. Y/n smiles at him ounce more.

“Do you like it?”

Thomas looks at her, letting out a small huff. To which Y/n took as a yes. Her eyes noticed something red.

“Oh your bleeding.”

Thomas wondered what she meant before noticing. A cut on his hand. Being used to dealing with sharp blades when working. To a point he doesn’t feel it anymore.

“Wait here.”

Y/n disappeared into the back before coming back with a med kit. Going around. Pulling one of the chairs.

“Go ahead and take a seat. I’ll take look at it.”

Thomas turned to her. Slowly heading towards the chair and sat down slowly. Y/n got on her knees. Opening her med kit. Using one hand, she took Thomas’s cut hand. But instead of roughly, it was a gentle touch. To him it was like a delicate soft touch. Y/n pulled out some wipes. Wiping some blood away before wrapping it some bandages.

“There that looks better.”

Thomas let’s out a breath. Y/n stood up.

“Hopefully that’ll heal up nicely. Better then it being accidentally cut further and then getting infected. Especially when working at a meat place.”

Thomas looks at her. Thinking she must’ve offended him.

“Oh sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad. It just when it comes to sharp objects when you cut meat.”

Y/n breathes softly.

“You must be thirst from working within that building.”

Y/n goes back behind the counter, humming a bit. Grabbing a cup. Gently pouring some sweet tea into a cup. Walking back over to him. Placing it down in front him.

“There you go.”

Y/n hummed, walking back to the counter. Thomas watched her. She wasn’t unlike many other folk around these parts. Harsh ones. Especially when it comes to him. Due to his mask and… face. But with you…. You gave no reaction of ill will. Instead, a soft and kind emotion was given. Giving a smile, and helping him with the cut he hand. Welcoming him warmly then harshly. Thomas slowly got up. Inhaling. Grabbing the cup.

“Oh wait sir!”

He looks at her. Y/n came over with a bag. Filled with different sweets. He looked at it then gaze at Y/n.

“A hard working man deserves something for all the work he does.”

Thomas gazed at her.

“Don’t worry about the pay. It’s on the house!”

Thomas gazed the bag. Slowly taking it. His fingers accidentally brushed with hers. She did not flinch nor pull away. Thomas takes the bag. Y/n smiles at him. Seeing him walk away. Waving.

“See you later mister! Hope I see you again!”

Bell chimed. Thomas breathes out. Feeling heat of the sun again. Taking his path once more. His chest however…..

Felt Tight.

Out of all woman he met before until they left town. You were the rarest he seen. Like a rare piece of gold in a mine of silver. Soft hearted. Delicate. Kind. He felt… comfortable near you. Being at ease when he sees you. Calm when he hears you. He needed to come back….. No…..

He will come back.

[lenaariewrld]

C.21 — digging a grave (w)

ON THE AIR — childe x reader smau

| SYNOPSIS;; Teyvat University’s popular radio personality, Y/n L/n, has only one gripe with her life. Her classmate, neighbour, and all-around nuisance in her life, Tartaglia. Their rivalry extends just past academics and, to her horror, into her work. He becomes the music director and co-host for her radio show, working alongside her most nights and forcing himself even deeper into her life. But is he really trying to just be friends, or is there an ulterior motive to his actions?

| WC; 5.8k

previous! ~ masterlist ! ~ next!

You felt a strange pit in your stomach the rest of the day after your conversation with Childe. Feeling… strangely guilty, for some reason. You didn’t know why. It wasn’t like you had been too incredibly harsh in the groupchat with everyone, you were just ribbing like you usually did and he didn’t seem to mind in the moment!

… Even as you told yourself this, you knew it was because of what you’d said when he’d texted just you.

Gods, it felt so stupid worrying about a boy like this… Who even were you right now? Anxiously pacing around Keqing’s apartment while she hunched over her cramped dining room table? You took a deep breath, stilling yourself for a moment. Keqing had been silent since you came over less than an hour ago, too busy cramming for some long and arduous assignment she’d been given by her professor to question you. That was until your fifteenth lap around her living room, your hands clasped in front of your face.

“Y/n, can you please sit down or something?” She speaks up, setting down her pen. She doesn’t look at you, instead grabbing a bright blue highlighter and running through her text again.

You stop pacing and sigh. Pulling out a chair at her cluttered table, you seat yourself and balance your elbows delicately on any exposed surface, careful not to touch her textbooks and other studying material. She continues her work, not pressing the issue. You appreciate her sometimes. She doesn’t force you to speak up, or try to weasel information out of you, though she may be concerned. She lets you take your time and come to conclusions yourself. It’s something you sometimes need.

You push yourself out of your seat and get to work, being as quiet as you can as you start picking up the little bits of trash or laundry on the floor. You figured you might as well put your energy somewhere other than pacing, so you do. In fact, you spend another couple hours at her apartment, cleaning up her kitchen or her living room, or organizing her closet while she studies. Keqing wasn’t a mess, per se, but when she got into the throes of her major, it was hard for her to maintain the cleanliness she liked.

You always offered to help her.

Body doubling, essentially, as she studied and you helped her apartment become less cluttered. When the time comes for you to start getting ready, you make sure she takes a break to eat before leaving. You head over to your own apartment.

A part of you hopes you can run into Childe before he leaves and talk to him, wanting to clear up what you’d said. You had been kind of a shitty friend to him and wrongfully accused him of something he likely didn’t think or feel. And you wanted to make sure he wasn’t upset. For some strange reason…

Unfortunately, you don’t get the chance.

When you arrive, his apartment is noticeably quiet and dead inside, a sign he likely left before you arrived. You also spot a sticky note on your door, written by Childe, telling you the location for the venue and what to say to the volunteers who were checking the tickets. You push aside the pang of disappointment you feel reading the note. It was probably fine! You could just clear it up with him later that night. Unlocking your door, you set the sticky note on top of your keys so you won’t forget it, stepping further into your apartment.

Cyno came by fifteen minutes later to help you pick out an outfit, distracting you from the weird feeling you had by hyping you up and suggesting accessories to elevate your clothing options. You put on a playlist of music similar to Childe’s– a ritual you and your friend had for every concert you attended. The both of you giggle and dance around your apartment as you both get dressed, the white-haired man stealing hair accessories and belts to add to his own clothes. Cyno holds up a pair of platform boots and asks to borrow them while you fix your hair into a ponytail.

“I guess soo,” You teasingly reply, scrunching your nose when Cyno rolls his eyes and kicks off his slippers. He searches around your closet for your basket with his clothes he’d forgotten, finding a fresh pair of socks before he puts on your shoes. You go back to your hair.

With that fixed and your hair styled to fit the vibe of the outfit you’d landed on, you move on. You help him with his makeup, pushing him to sit statue-still on your toilet seat while you messily apply dark eyeliner and a little shimmery purple shadow. A pop of red under his eyes and you turn to your own look. You both decide to match a little in the end.

“We look hot,” Cyno nods as he surveys himself in the mirror. His dark skin was really well complimented with the flecks of glitter on his eyes and cheeks, and you nod in satisfaction at your makeup artist skills. “I seriously had my doubts with you,” He teases you with a satisfied smirk, chuckling when you slap his arm.

“It’s artistic when my makeup is messy,” You defend, snatching a bracelet and escaping from your bathroom to apply your last finishing touches.

It takes only a little bit longer for the both of you to finish up and make your way to Cyno’s car, the man dutifully driving to the venue you recite from Childe’s note. You arrive after finding a parking spot and notice the long line already starting to form outside the little building. Though the concert was definitely one the smallest venues you’d ever been in, it was still nicely packed and there were a decent amount of people acting as security. You knew, from what Childe had told you, that a few of them were volunteers from the newspaper team, who had also helped a little with the funds.

You both make your way to the front of the line and you tell the volunteers about your supposed ‘VIP tickets’, feeling like a stupid groupie when you explain you don’t have physical tickets and just a sticky note. Anxiety claws up your throat as one of the volunteers gets up to call someone else, your little yellow note clutched in their hand. You wonder if the tickets Childe had promised were even still valid, or if he’d decide to embarrass you and force you and Cyno to pay because he was pissed at you.

Thankfully, that doesn’t happen. Instead, one of the newspaper staff you recognize, Yelan, comes up to you both. She smiles cooly as she waves you both over. “Well, well, you two’re sneaking into this group’s shit now? I wouldn’t have thought that of you,” She’s teasing, and you can tell by the smile tugging at one side of her face, but her smooth voice and the confidence she says it in makes you doubt it for a second.

“Nah, we got freebies,” Cyno shrugs, fist-bumping the older woman. She was only three years biologically older than you– and one year academically –but she felt leagues above you. She had her shit together.

“I know, the band told me,” She laughs and motions for you two to follow her, cutting around the forming crowd and directing you two to a nice pocket towards the front of the stage. “Enjoy, and tell me how this piece comes out,” Yelan glances knowingly at the camera around Cyno’s neck, winks, and walks off in the span of two seconds, leaving you mesmerized as she’s whisked into some other duty.

Cyno shakes his head fondly at the woman’s words.

Before the concert starts, he hands you his notepad and asks you to write down the songs that play and anything they say between songs. When they come out onto the small stage and introduce themselves, you clap along with the crowd. As it goes on, your friend snaps his pictures peacefully. You enjoy the music, and even hum along to the few you recognise.

During the set, you lock eyes with Childe, and because you felt incredibly awkward for his attention to be on you like that, you gave him two thumbs up. He cracks a small smile and faces more of the crowd. That small moment helped undo some of the terrible knot in your stomach, and you felt a little lighter.

You focus on enjoying the rest of the concert with your friend, bopping along to the songs when you weren’t taking notes. You cheer and clap when it comes to an end and everyone does their encore, handing Cyno his things back and just chatting with him while people begin to clear out. A few minutes pass before Kaeya finds you, bringing the both of you back to the dressing room. “How’d you like it?” he asks the question lightheartedly, talking to you and Cyno as you walk. He also asks about your day, what Cyno’s classes were like, and whatnot.

Cyno asks his own questions as well, talking about the band. However, Kaeya seems less interested in talking about them and moreso himself and his other accomplishments. You glance at each other as Kaeya turns a corner, confused about his whole attitude. Didn’t he co-lead this band? Shouldn’t he care?

You shake that thought off as you make it to the dressing room, greeting the only other person you know in there, Thoma. The room was small and most of the guys were on folding chairs relaxing, loosening the tight parts of their stage outfits, or chugging water. You notice a peculiar lack of ginger hair and boisterous laughter when you enter. Cyno finds himself a seat and talks to Thoma, so you excuse yourself to ‘find a drink’. Really, you were looking for Childe.

You find him and knock on the door of the changing room he’s in to announce your presence. He pulled his shirt down over his head and looks at you, his eyes widening slightly. “Hey,” He greets, fluffing the shirt and pulling it into place. “What’s up?”

You fiddle with the hem of your crop top, losing your words all of a sudden. You close your eyes and sigh. “Listen, I’m sorry for earlier,”

“Don’t apologise,” Childe runs his hands through his hair. “I was just not in a great mood earlier and I took your words to more heart than I should’ve,” He shrugs, but he clearly isn’t telling the truth. You’ve learned his little tells in the time you’ve spent together.

“I was still a shitty friend,” You reply.

“You were being yourself, and it wasn’t shitty. It’s your style,” He retorts, not letting you speak again before he adds, “It wasn’t a big deal, It was just me overreacting,” He promises. You press your lips together. You had been all worried and anxious for no reason. He wasn’t upset at you, he wasn’t going to treat you like shit all of a sudden.

“Well, I’m sorry still, so just accept it,” You tell him, cracking a small smile when he chuckles.

“Sure, I accept it,” He taps your forehead as he steps past you and back towards the back dressing room. The both of you seem to wordlessly agree to set the little spat aside, the knot in your stomach completely gone by the time you rejoin the others. You’re surprised to find them already getting up and packing their errant items into duffel bags.

Kaeya and Ayato lead the group towards a nearby hotel, going right past the lobby and towards a specific room. When you splutter incredulously, glancing towards the receptionist (who doesn’t even bat an eye at the trailing college kids making their way towards the elevators), Childe leans slightly as he walks beside you. “Ayato and his family have a long running membership with the hotel, so all the staff don’t say anything about who he brings in and out, especially not when he told them in advance,” He whispers to you, nodding when your mouth falls slack in shock.

Rich bastards!

He slows down his step to talk to Scaramouche while you hurry to catch up to Cyno and Thoma. You arrive at the hotel room to find quite a few people already there. Friends of the band members and… probably a few girls just trying to have any fun they can find. There’s music playing and bottles sitting out for anyone to take. The people you don’t recognise cheer as the band step across the threshold, welcoming them in and falling into conversation with everyone.

You snatch a bottle of soju to nurse and find a seat on the couch while Cyno departs to interview some other band member or something. He checks in before leaving your side, patting your shoulder. More people shuffle around the suite, which is more of a stay-in apartment than just a hotel room, finding seats or whatnot. The atmosphere is chill but still lively. It seems like everyone knows way more people here than you do. You can’t help but watch the different conversations.

Someone sits next to you on the couch and it takes you a minute to realise it’s Scara. He’s scrolling on his phone, disinterested in the chaos around him as Kaeya and Ayato urge everyone to imbibe. Across from you in the two arm chairs, Thoma is busy talking to a girl. You give him a pitying look, able to tell the girl is clearly just nodding along to what the blonde says because she finds him attractive, not paying attention to the rather boring things he’s talking about. You don’t blame her.

It takes a few sips for you to relax into the cushions, losing track of time as you chat with anyone who comes up to you. You giggle and laugh at stories or jokes, share your own bits, and exchange your number with a few of the people there. Eventually, Scara turns off his phone, leaning his head against his hand. “You’re Childe’s girl, right?” He asks with a quirk of his brows.

“W-what? I... no! I’m just his friend! We.. work together,” You quickly defend, spluttering as your brain fights between swallowing your drink and rushing to speak.

Scara raises his brow again, humming in contemplation. “I just meant you’re the one he invited, yeah?” The dark-haired man chuckles, and you can’t help but feel there’s a slight malicious intent behind his words and actions. You press your lips together, unsure how to respond. The man tilts his head to look at something else in the room. “I don’t know how you put up with him.. He’s been soo..” Scara trails off as he drags out the ‘o’, thinking about an apt word for his bandmate. “Annoying, lately,” He settles on.

“Annoying?” You perk up slightly, tilting your head. He’d been amicable to you, sometimes even downright groveling in exchange for your forgiveness (or the now frequent trysts between you both). Annoying, maybe a little bit, but maybe he’d been different with others?

Thoma leans forward in his seat from where he’d just been observing. The girl from earlier seems to have disappeared, finally losing interest in him by now. “He’s just cheery and less… all over the place. Has been since you guys started working together, really. Scara just hates that Childe isn’t being a complainer anymore,” Thoma chuckles, sending a playfully scrutinizing look at the brooding man across from him. Scara flips him off, pulling out his phone again.

“He just likes the attention,” You comment with a shrug. You don’t want to assume anything, especially not from the biases of his friends. It couldn’t have been anything you did that caused that change, right?

Before you can ponder it for much longer, Childe finds you, alerting you to his presence with a hand on your shoulder. “What are you guys talkin’ about?” He asks as he leans his hip on the back of the couch right by you, temporarily planting himself.

“How awful you are,” Scara supplies.

“Hardy-har,” Childe sarcastically laughs, grabbing your hand and nodding his head for you to follow him. “Spreading lies about me, I see. If you don’t mind, I’m gonna steal your entertainment, though,” He says. You wordlessly stand and set your bottle down, nodding when Thoma reaches for it.

“Go ahead,” The dark-haired brood mumbles. He waves his hand dismissively.

“Don’t let him abduct you too far,” Thoma jokes. He laughs when you send him a playful salute over your shoulder, walking away with Childe. The amount of people just lingering around the room was astonishing to you, watching a few people as they entertained themselves with drugs and alcohol if there was no conversation to be had. Loud bouts of laughter erupted from different parts of the room, drifting with the two hosts who seemed to feed off of the energy of getting people fucked up.

The ginger leads you to the ‘bedroom’ and past that to a balcony outside, sliding the door closed behind the both of you. It gets significantly quieter without the loud chatter and music right in your ears. He leans against the railing and looks out at the streets sprawling below. The sounds of the city serve as quiet white noise while you catch your breath, a cool breeze cooling your heated face. Childe flicks his wrist and produces a cigarette, cupping his hand to protect the flame of his lighter from the wind. You can’t help but stare the entire time.

“I’m sorry,” You apologise again, unsure why you’re even sorry this time.

“Don’t be,” The man says softly as he exhales the smoke from his lungs. “Scaramouche is just like that… and you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says, bouncing his brows at you. You chuckle softly, tucking loose strands of hair from your face and leaning against the railing beside him. Cars honk and drive past down below.

He holds out his cigarette for you after taking another hit and you gratefully accept, rolling it between your fingers. You inhale deeply, letting your heartbeat calm you down. It’s quiet as the two of you share the vice, exchanging between giggly breaths. The cool evening air whisks away your smoke and laughter until it’s a distant memory.

“You know, I’ve always kind of admired you,” Childe breaks the comfortable silence, looking at the sky as if he’s trying to catch a glimpse of the stars through the lights of the city.

You tilt your head. “Why?”

“You’re so…” Childe presses his lips together as he thinks, passing the cig to you. He folds his hands together. “Sure of yourself.” He says. “I remember towards the end of second year when I saw you again… You didn’t let anyone tell you who you were or where you belonged if you wanted to be something or somewhere. You still don’t. It’s… admirable,”

You contemplate his words, your brows furrowing slightly. “And you do? I find that hard to believe,”

“Well, believe it, sweetheart,” He laughs. Childe takes the cigarette from you easily, flicking off the ashes and taking a deep drag. He can taste your flavored gloss mixing with the nicotine. Maybe that’s why he likes the taste of cigarettes now when before he’d found them too bitter. Sharing them with you made it… sweet. “I just pretend to be sure of myself, but I don’t try anything new and I only go to places people expect me to go…” You lean your chin in your hand as he speaks. “I’m just too… unsure if I can do anything new myself,”

A hum sounds from you, your gaze following the fluttering ashes as they drift away on the breeze, unrecognizable specks disappearing from your eyesight. “I get that…”

“How do you do it?”

You shrug at the man ‘s question. “I just… don’t let anyone get to me.” You scratch at your cheek. “It’s hard, because I do doubt myself sometimes and feel like I shouldn’t belong where I am, but I know that I wouldn’t have gotten there if I didn’t actually belong, and if I didn’t try I’d never know.” You look at him when you speak next. “Besides, life is too short for me to worry all the time about being worthy,”

He smiles a little, a twinkle in his eyes as he stares right back at you. He bites the inside of his cheek and looks away again, thinking about what you said. “Being worthy is all that matters to me,” He says, quiet like he’s confessing a deep sin.

You blink at the surprising vulnerability from the ginger. He’s silent after that, watching cars pass by in silence. You stare at his profile, the slope of his nose, the curve of his cheeks, the dark lashes that frame his deep blue eyes. You can practically see the emotions swirling around inside him. Tentatively, you slide a little closer, your shoulders brushing slightly. “What are you trying to be worthy for?” You ask quietly.

“I don’t know,” Childe answers after a second. “My family? Myself? It’s… hard to figure that part out..” He shakes his head and takes another drag. The burning of the cigarette highlights his face with a faint yellow-orange. You watch his features change, softening slightly. You reach out and take the cigarette from him, bumping your shoulder with his in a silent attempt at comforting whatever worry was in his head. “I can’t even be sure of myself in my music… I can’t run this band by myself,” he sighs.

“Well, I think you’re doing an alright job,”

“Yeah, well, Kaeya did a lot of the work too… He just doesn’t seem to care like I do, and sometimes I question if I shouldn’t care as much either… Maybe I’m not supposed to be the ‘leader’,” He uses air quotes as he says this. You take a hit of the cigarette while you watch him, inhaling through your teeth and letting the air cool before bringing it into your lungs.

When you exhale, you shake your head. “You’re a good leader, and you don’t need to be worthy to do that,” You tell him. You glance behind you as you hear a chorus of loud cheers from somewhere inside the hotel room. Then you turn your attention back to the man. He pressed his lips together, lost in thought. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you can tell his expressions don’t mean anything good. With a quiet hum, you lean your head on his shoulder, offering slightly more comfort than your words seem to give.

“I don’t think I deserve it even when I get the chance,”

“Why not?” You speak, “You have a passion for the music and you want to express yourself and the others,” As you finish, you look up at him, silently questioning but not pushing for an answer.

And all of a sudden, Childe feels like his throat is constricting when you blink up at him. Suddenly, the thoughts in his head are reduced to mush, and that rearing monster of guilt that he feels in his stomach whenever you get too close makes him freeze. He’s tense, staring at your wide, honest eyes. How could he tell you the whole reason he felt he didn’t deserve it was because of what he had to do to get that? He had wanted control for good reasons, but he had to get you involved to do it… Because he was too much of a coward to just ask for it from Kaeya.

It was easy, at first, to push aside any guilt when you hated each other. Back when he swore that you would never weasel your way into his good graces because of how you treated him, that even if you were nice, he’d still remember that you’d hate him… Now, that was shaky reasoning at best.

You were a good friend. You had been honest, and even when you were acting like a royal bitch to him, it wasn’t anything he didn’t deserve with his own shitty behaviour. And you set aside the actual malice and vitriol when he apologised. All he’d done to you, “for” you, was for a goal that seemed so childish now. He’d lied through his teeth from the beginning, and even now, he still found himself lying to you. He withheld parts about his deeds to keep you close to him. To hold you while he still had the time.

Because Childe knew, without a doubt, that you’d eventually find out. And he knew no matter how well he treated you (or how genuinely he might’ve meant it) that you’d want nothing to do with him when you did. No matter how close you’d gotten or how much he’d come to enjoy your company and your laugh and your humor and you personality.

He knew this bliss wouldn’t last.

He knew.

And yet he couldn’t keep himself from crawling to you, texting and calling and knocking on your door.

Childe knew he was never going to be enough to make up for what he’d done. He was digging a grave too deep for his own good.

“You’re getting quiet,” You told him. “Whatever’s worrying you can’t be that bad, can it?” You knocked your shoulder against his with a playful smile. He chuckles, and you can tell by the way he swallows that he’s never going to tell you the thoughts bouncing around his brain. You can’t help but feel a little saddened by that.

“Yeah,” Childe leans his head against yours, kissing the crown of your head. You giggle and cup his cheeks, meeting his lips in a sweet kiss. A short moment shared between just the both of you.

“Feeling better?” You joke as you pull away, your noses still bumping.

He sighs and caresses your cheekbones with his thumbs. “A little bit,” he said honestly, though his tone was joking. You rolled your eyes in faux exasperation, pulling away and lightly flicking his nose with an infectious giggle.

“Okay, Romeo, let’s get back inside before your friends set that room on fire,” You put out the cigarette butt and toss it in a small bin. Childe laughs at your apt assumptions about his friends, sliding open the door for you. You thank him quietly, skipping inside first. When you return to the same couch you’d occupied earlier, you find Cyno in the middle of questioning Scaramouche. He’s scribbling in his notes as you approach from behind, leaning over the back of the arm chair and reading over your friend’s shoulder. You notice the excessive amount of angry face doodles he had around the page, looking eerily similar to the dark-haired singer, causing you to snort unceremoniously.

“Hey! Don’t read over my shoulder!” Cyno squawks, pretending to be offended as he ‘hides’ the notebook. You cover your eyes with your hands and turn away dramatically at the accusation. The man laughs and relaxes again after a couple seconds of your antics pass. You wait for him to finish his questions before sliding into the seat beside your friend, throwing your legs over his. He chats with you mindlessly or the others around, and you occupy your hands by braiding sections of his hair.

The rest of the night is spent chatting with everyone or playing a couple games in order to drink, though you monitor the amount of liquor in your system so you don’t get too drunk. Cyno doesn’t drink either, revising his notes whenever he didn’t want to talk to anyone or just nursing the same soda bottle throughout the night. Somehow, in the time you spend there, you also end up hitting it off with Kaeya and, you think, Scara. You got the shorter man to laugh at a few of your jokes and he didn’t seem to glare at your presence, so that was… something?

By the time the clock hits two in the morning, you find yourself starting to drift off, cuddling next to your white-haired friend on the couch. His arms are around you protectively as he converses quietly with Thoma, the both of them remaining hushed as you doze. Your eyes are closed, but you hum and use thumbs ups (or downs) to show that you are still alive and aware of the current situation.

“Here, I can take her home,” Childe offers, his car keys already in hand as he approaches Cyno. Your friend narrows his eyes, hesitant to just let you go with the ginger. You shift slightly as his arms readjust around you, the man still not letting up.

“She rode with me,” Cyno says.

“And we live next to each other, so it’s just easier… I’m already heading out and she’s falling asleep,” The ginger points out, tapping your thigh to wake you up without too much disturbance. You lift your head and blink blearily. You look an awful lot like a tired cat as you scrunch your brows and fight off a yawn, stretching out over the couch and waking yourself up.

“What’s up? More games?” You ask.

“No, I’m taking you home,” The ginger says, a smile already pulling at his lips. He has to resist the urge to pinch your cheeks, instead holding out his hand so he can help you up.

“I can take her,” Cyno again insists, already moving to get up. He stills as you pat his shoulder, smiling calmly.

“No, you don’t have to leave because of me.. Stay and catch up, have fun,” You shrug, standing up. Your friend glances between you and Childe, his mouth pressed into a line. He looks like he wants to say something. “It’ll be fine. I think we can make it through a fifteen minute drive,” You assure, ruffling his hair. Cyno groans and fixes the messy tresses on his head, waving you away.

“Okay, okay, fine.. Text me when you get home, please,” He tells you. You nod dutifully and head out with Childe, leading the ginger lead the way.

It’s comfortably silent again as he drives. You just listen to the radio and watch the road, letting the wind blow through your hair and along your hand. Childe doesn’t speak the entire ride, nor as he parks, or as he walks you to your apartment. It isn’t until you walk up to your door that he finally speaks. “Thank you for coming,”

You chuckle. “Well… Thank you for inviting me. It was actually kind of fun,” You admit, tilting your head this way and that while you unlock your door in a ‘so-so’ motion. The man laughs softly, stumbling back as he slaps his hand over his chest like he was just hit and was soooo hurt. You can’t help but smile at his antics.

He turns to his own door, but you whistle to get his attention. He raises his brows as you push open your door, motioning inside. “Do you want to just come in? We can watch a movie..” You suggest.

He agrees.

The both of you step into your apartment, and it’s innocent and sweet the way you both set down your things. You kick off your shoes and he unties his sneakers to set them next to your boots. You both know the routine for sleepovers by this point, wordlessly working around each other to change and get ready for bed. Childe braids your hair back before you remove your makeup, and makes himself comfortable on your bed while he waits.

Finally, you pull up a movie on your laptop and hand the device over to him. He fixes it on his legs so you both can see, lifting an arm wordlessly for you to snuggle into his chest. In fact, the entire exchange is quiet, calm and peaceful even as you both find yourselves tangled together under your covers, watching the studio ghibli movie you had selected. The man plays with your hair while he watches the screen and you run your hands absently over his collarbones.

He turns his head slightly to watch you. You look up at him, brows jumping just slightly as you catch his gaze. He chuckles, smiling as you lean forward to kiss him softly. He kisses you back, gently cradling your head even as you sit up a little. When your hand travels lower onto his stomach, pulling at his t-shirt slightly, he grabs your hand. “Y/n..”

“I’m sorry,” you immediately say against his lips, pulling away from the kiss and putting some distance between you both. Childe tugs you close again, still holding your hand. “I thought–”

“It’s late, baby,” He speaks softly, just above a whisper as he coaxes you to lay next to him again, bringing you into his arms. You’re tense, suddenly aware of how close he physically is to you. He smooths his hand over the side of your face. “We can just hang out without doing anything,” He shrugs. “And you’re practically falling asleep, sweetheart,” His voice is slightly teasing as he twirls some hair around his finger. Your cheeks flush slightly, your body relaxing against the man.

“Okay…” You say. Childe hums approvingly, his thumb rubbing circles against your wrist. He brings your hand up to his face, kissing your palm sweetly. 

“Just relax..” He whispers. You do your best to do so, focusing on the movie and the warmth of his body against your chilly sheets. The ginger continues to stroke your hand and play with your hair, pulling you even closer until your ear is pressed against his chest. His ministrations and the steady breathing reverberating in his chest starts to lull you further into sleep, the awkward moment fading from your mind. The sweet music from the movie fills your head, and you manage to hum something akin to a ‘goodnight’ before sleep claims you fully, your eyes too heavy for you to keep them open much longer.

Childe finishes the movie until he’s assured that you’re really asleep, shifting a little to set your laptop aside and turn off the lamp once he is. The apartment baths in darkness, moonlight peeking barely peeking through the closed blinds. Childe listens to your breathing while you sleep, staring at your form in the darkness. He pulls the covers over you both once his own eyes begin to feel heavy. “I’m sorry,” He whispers into your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

For now, he could cherish what he had of you, right..?

———

A/Ns: whoo this one was a doozy! ehehe, i hope y'all enjoy the slight angst of this and brief glimpse into childe's inner thoughts,,, as always, likes/reblogs/comments are srsly always appreciated, and obviously don't forget to eat something yummy <33

TAGLIST: @popiizpops @scaradooche @yourfavoritefreakyhan @neversore @monocerosei @dontmindtheevie @kittywagun @yumidepain @kazumiku @hanilessa

pinks means i cannot tag you </3

[lady-of-tearshed]

Winds of change

Eris Vanserra centered

Eris Vanserra Week 2024

@erisweekofficial

Day 4 : Traditions

Summary: New ruler, new traditions, new ways of thinking. In this fic, Eris has to make his old tutor, Ms,Crawford, who is now tutoring his eldest son Aster, a clear reminder that the Autumn Court education system has changed. For the better.

Word count: 777 words (Ooooh, a lucky number! 🥰)

Warnings: Angry Eris.

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears 🤎

🔥Based on this prompt 🔥

Eris' head was still throbbing painfully from this endless progress update meeting about Autumn's new education system. He had spent a good thirty minutes in the quiet meeting room once everyone had left.

Once the headache subsided only slightly after a few deep breaths, Eris stood up, slowly, testing his balance. Once he felt stable enough to stand on his legs, he walked slowly around the large table occupying the center of the room. He pushed each chair back into its place, enjoying the last moments of peace he could get before switching to his second role: being a dad.

Eris only left the throne room when everything was clean and organized. A servant could've, and would've done it for him, sure. But leaving his work place clean also helped him to return home with a clear head.

His muscles were sore, his feets heavy as they dragged him through the endless corridors leading him to the Forest House, to his home, and his body craved yours. Desperately. But fate had other plans for him, it seemed.

Eris winced at the too familiar tempo of heels limping his way. He turned around to face the old hag that tutored him back in his young days and sighed. He truly wondered to himself why he had decided to keep her in this palace, why he hadn't cared to find a remplacement for her.

Probably because he had pitied her, sadly.

“High Lord,” Her voice was so whiny, nasally, that it only worsened Eris' headache. And temper.

“Talk with my assistant for an appointment, Ms.Crawford. I have things to do,”

Eris shoved her off, trying to hurry back to you and his kids-

“It's about Aster,”

The growl in her voice made Eris worry. He turned around, more willing to listen to her. He knew that Aster, his eldest, had quite a … heated temper. He was a troublesome boy, indeed, but very clever. Aster didn't really enjoy school, which Eris could understand, since himself wasn't very pleased to spend his young days learning what this old hag had to teach him. But it had made him grow into a strong leader, yes, but mostly into a strong person. Because in Eris' opinion, knowledge was power. And it was a must that his kids were tutored for at least a few years.

“What about my son?”

Ms.Crawford leaned onto her cane, peering into Eris' amber eyes like she had done when he was just a young Fae. But her authority didn't shake him, not anymore. So he stood tall, and tucked his hands into his pockets, waiting.

“Today, he refused to use his magic,”

Eris raised a brow. “He respected his limits, so?”

“My Lord, with all due respect,” She spat, and Eris' eyes lit up with dark flames, “The boy will never be worthy to keep his title of Heir to the throne of Autumn Court if he won't risk to test the limits of his powers. It should be an honor for him to-”

“Say one more word,” Eris hissed, towering the woman from all his height, “And I'll send you to the farthest spot of this continent and exile you from my Court forever.”

Eris was panting. His fists were clenched on his sides and sparks of fire were crackling all around him. But the old hag stood tall, unshakable. “I am only trying to educate your son, High Lord,”

“Your ruler has changed, methods of education have changed. I thought I had made that clear with you when I had been kind enough to not find a replacement for you. But you're making me regret this decision with every damn word you dare to utter,” Eris gulped, reigning in his magic to prevent it turning this old lady into a mere pile of ashes. “I am not raising soldiers, nor rulers. I am raising kids, good kids; and when they grow up it will be up to them to decide what they do with the powers they were given,”

Eris stepped back, his eyes still piercing holes through Ms.Crawford's face. “I shall summon you to discuss your tutoring contract, soon. Until then, I hope you'll follow the new educational expectations of this Court. Have I made myself clear?”

The old hag frown turned into a sly grin, barely noticeable. When she turned to leave, she peered at Eris over her shoulder. “I knew you'd be a strong ruler one of these days, Eris Vanserra. Times and methods have changed, yes, but I've taught you well,” She said, then left. Her old, frail legs supported her on her way out of this palace.

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover

[psithurista]

approach shift pt. nine

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, fingering, a quick wristy (lol)

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

a/n: Last full chapter but there will be an epilogue in the not-too-distant; I'll probably have more notes then. Thank you x

series masterlist

The back of your head is torturously itchy. 

You try surreptitiously to press your knuckles to the spot, just to relieve the worst of it. The nurse sitting closest to you glances up at you from over the top of her monitor and guiltily, you clasp your hands back down into your lap. 

It smells sour in here, like soft plums left to rot. Whichever industrial cleaner it is this hospital uses, it’s definitely not one anybody’s trying to market for domestic use. It’s probably cheap as fuck, you contemplate, your hand drifting back up towards your head.

“You can go in now,” a new nurse says beside you. You jerk your hand away. “He’s awake. I let him know you’ve been waiting.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, unpeeling yourself from the plastic waiting room chair. “I won’t be very long. I just wanted to say hi.”

She gives you a mild, distracted okay-that’s-nice-whatever smile and disappears. You push open the door to the room she’d just exited and duck inside. 

It smells far better in here. There’s a vase of opening lilies leaving red pollen-stains on the table in front of the window, and the lavender-powder smell of clean sheets. Doctor Brant is propped up in the bed, frowning hard at the tablet in his hands.

“I hope you aren’t working while you’re meant to be resting,” you say.

He tilts his head down to peer at you over his glasses. “Oh, no. It’s just sudoku. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Doctor. How are you?”

He nods, and sets the tablet aside. “Well, they’ve finally taken me off the oxygen so I expect I’ll be allowed to leave soon. All things considered, a little smoke inhalation injury at my…advanced age could’ve been far worse.” His eyes glint a little bit. “Were you injured?”

You shake your head. “A concussion, but I’m fine. The. He. Um. You know. He got me out, before he went back for you.” 

“You shouldn’t have stayed to look for me.”

You sit gingerly on the very edge of the chair next to the bed. “I thought. I didn’t think he’d made it to you in time. I thought you were both.” Your voice starts to sound weird, so you stop talking.

He folds his hands together over his chest. “It’s strange. I remember the first time I saw him. I didn’t understand what was happening. I thought it must have been a stunt, or an advertisement for something. Silly, really. And yet he’s saved Oscorp from itself more times than it deserved. After Connors and Dillon and that whole terrible disaster with young Harry. It’s too much. There’s no reason for anybody to endanger themselves in that place ever again.” He takes his glasses off and sets them beside the bed. “Which is why I’ve resigned.”

You stare at him. “You. What?”

He smiles at you; the expression a little indulgent. “All those years of work, gone. And for nothing. I’m sure you’ve already heard what happened?”

You have. It’s been all over the news the entire week. First the speculation: was it an attack? Was it political? Was it another disgruntled ex-employee? A competitor? And then, later, the worse, more boring truth: regular old corporate negligence. An undertrained technician who’d tried to prematurely purge a vac test chamber with concentrated oxygen. An alarm system two years overdue for maintenance. And floor upon floor of laboratories filled with dangerous substances, improperly stored.



Nobody else in your department was seriously hurt. But others weren’t so lucky.

“When I started with Norm, it was all about changing the world for the better. And in the end, we’ve helped nobody.” He shakes his head. “If you’ll forgive my language…Fuck Oscorp. I’m ready to start over.”

You grin at him, even though it feels a little watery. “I’m…really happy for you.” And you are. In the brief time you’ve worked under him, his passion has been obvious, but he’s always seemed so bogged down by the minutiae of red tape; appeasing a board of investors with no interest in the importance of his life’s work beyond its potential profitability. 

But it also makes your already-uncertain future with the company even foggier. You’ll need to find someone else willing to offer you a similar graduate position, and you already know you won’t find anything else quite as specialised as the work he’s been doing. 

He takes a sip from the glass of water beside his bed, then sits back with a sigh. “Publicly-funded research is a far less glamorous world than that of private enterprise. We’ll be relying primarily on grant funding and academic support. There won’t be any glass fountains or vertical gardens, I’m afraid.”

You nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. It’ll be a big change.”    His eyebrows draw together at you. “I would understand if your answer is no.”

You blink. “My answer?” you say, like a genius. 

“If so, I would, of course, write you a glowing recommendation. And I have plenty of contacts I could put you in touch with, if you’d prefer that.”

Holy shit. Is he…? “Hold on. Are you offering me a position with you?”

“Well, yes.”

He grunts as you dart in and hug him. “Oh! Yes! I mean, of course! I would love to. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this.”

“Uh.”

You lean back as he smooths his blankets down. “Sorry,” you say, a little sheepish. “That was unprofessional.”

He tries to look stern, but it’s unconvincing. “Well, yes,” he says again. “But I’ll choose to ignore it just this once.”

You stop by to see Bear on your way home. The roller doors in the alley beside the grimy little theatre are propped open so you can see all the half-painted set pieces inside, and there’s a bunch of people dressed all in black gathered around smoking. 

“Are you gonna be home tonight?” you ask, watching her inhale the deli sandwich you’d brought after correctly guessing she hadn’t stopped rehearsing long enough for lunch.

“I can be if you want,” she says, her mouth full of half-chewed food. “But I was kind of planning on staying at a friend’s.”

You press your knuckles absently against the back of your head and leer at her. “Would this friend happen to be the same person who wanted you to move in after one salad date?”

“If you don’t stop scratching your stitches I’m calling the hospital and narcing to your doctor. And yes.”

You make a face. “I’m not even touching them!”

She stuffs the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and wipes her hands on her jeans. “I’m seriously cool not to go, though. It’s totally fine.”

She’s barely left you alone since you got back from the emergency room, even setting alarms and checking up on you throughout the first couple of nights. You know for a fact she’s had to cancel other plans for you—again. You shake your head. “No, go. I kind of want some alone time anyway.” 

It’s another cold, bright afternoon. You walk into the feet of your shadow and spread your fingers beside your body as your arms move, watching them elongating out on the pavement in front of you, lost in thought. You’ve been lost in thought a lot, lately.

You’re just past the end of your block when you catch sight of the figure sitting on the stairs outside your building. Long legs in faded jeans are stretched out and crossed over at the ankles, and there’s duct tape around the toe of one sneaker. You slow to a halt on the sidewalk. A woman behind you huffs with irritation, veering around you, a giant paper grocery bag clutched in her arms.

He looks up from his cracked phone screen as you draw level with your door. His hair is as chaotic as ever, stuck up in every direction, except for at the nape of his neck, where it curls gently around in little flicks. He looks tired. He’s always looked tired, the whole time you’ve known him, but you notice it differently now. Like the holes in his jeans, and the bruise on his jaw, and the angry-sore-looking blisters on his knuckles. 

He smiles a little, jerking you out of your silent staring. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t wanna just show up unannounced. I’ve been trying to call, but,” he holds his phone up, and you shake your head.

“My phone was—”

“Yeah, I figured.”

The wind lifts the edge of your scarf and shivers under the neck of your coat. There’s something sweet in the air; like cinnamon sugar, maybe someone baking from one of the open windows overhead. “Do you want to come inside?”

His expression is soft as he considers you, looking up through his lashes. “Okay.”

Neither of you speak on the trip upstairs. Your hand accidentally brushes his as you reach out for the elevator buttons, and you both pull away, as awkward and over-polite as strangers. 

He stands a respectful distance back as you open your door, and you lead him inside, waving your hand vaguely toward the sofa. “Do you want a drink?”

He folds himself into the seat nearest the window, hunching over and shoving his hands between his knees. A cold drift of sun touches his jaw. “Um, no thanks, it’s cool.”

You sit down beside him, folding your hands across your lap like you’re about to get a class picture taken. 

He chews his lip, runs his thumbs over his burned hands. Outside, a car horn beeps. “It’s not because I didn’t trust you,” he starts. “If you’re wondering. I don’t want you thinking that’s the reason.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “You don’t need to explain.”

“I just want you to know—”

“I know.” You try to smile at him, and it feels a little watery. “I get it. I know why you couldn’t tell me.”

His brows bend together just enough to mark out a pained line. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Really. Don’t be.”

It falls silent in your living room. The little clay pinch pot in the centre of the coffee table Bear had brought home from the artists’ market watches you both watching one another; soft-skinned and tender as nervous newborn things.

“You might die doing this,” you finally point out. “One day. All those times you’ve been hurt. You might…not come home.”

He nods at the floor. “Which is why I couldn’t really ask you to, you know. Waste your time with—” he waves his hands vaguely back and forth between your bodies. “It’s not worth it. And, like, trust me, I would never, ever want to drag you into any of the shit I’m involved with. I didn’t mean to fuck you around so long, knowing you wouldn’t...” He looks back at you, his dark eyes soft. “It was just. The happiest I’ve been in a really long time. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry. It was shitty of me. Selfish.”

You stare at him for a few seconds in stunned disbelief. Then you laugh. You don’t mean to, and his head jerks back, startled. “Are you serious?” you manage.

His eyes are huge. “Uh. Yeah?”

You laugh again. It sounds a little manic. “You’re unbelievable.”

He flushes. “Could you maybe quit laughing at me when I’m trying to—”

“Peter. You saved my fucking life. Twice. Even after I was a total asshole to you. You saved me.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, look, I don’t want you to feel weird about that. Like, it’s totally, one-hundred-percent not a big deal and I never want anybody to feel like—”

“You help people. Strangers. Every day. For nothing. And they aren’t even grateful. The things people write about you.” He hasn’t moved, and you realise you’re talking louder than you need to, considering he’s right in front of you. “You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met,” you tell him, emphatic, needing him to get it. “You’re a good person, Peter. I’m so sorry I didn’t see that before.” Your voice breaks a little and it’s embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as the fact that your vision has gone blurry and your cheeks feel suddenly too hot.

You stop and breathe for a few moments, willing yourself not to cry. He doesn’t say anything, just studies the edge of the rug as though he’s pretending not to notice, and you’re grateful. 

Then, quietly, he takes a breath. “I was going to tell you. Before the fire. I saw May, and she told me she saw you, and that you’d talked, and. I wanted to explain everything.”

You remember the way May had looked that day in the park; her small, sad mouth, and the way she’d spoken slowly like she was choosing each word carefully. “Does she know?”

Peter half-shrugs. “We’ve never talked about it. But, like, I know she knows. And she knows I know she does.” He gives you a little smile. “It’s easier if we both keep pretending we don’t, though.”

“Does anyone else?”

His smile turns tight. “I guess not. Not really.”

“So you’ve been doing this all on your own? The whole time? How?”

He runs his hand back through his hair. “Yeah. Well, I guess I’m pretty good with DIY now, you know? I wasn’t always. I had to learn. Shit went wrong a lot in the beginning. Shit still goes wrong a lot.”

You lean in a little, curling into the cushions. “What’s the hardest part?”

You’re expecting him to say the fear of discovery, or the isolation, or the sheer physical exhaustion. But he wrinkles his nose. “God. The sewing. It’s so hard. And it’s constant. I swear I pop a different seam every day.” His face goes blank for a moment and he looks at you as though a brand new thought has just occurred to him for the first time. “It’s actually really nice. Getting to talk about this.”

“Am I allowed to ask about the outfit?”

He slaps his hands over his face. “You are absolutely fucking not allowed to ask about the outfit.”

Your mouth drops open in outrage. “I wasn’t gonna laugh! I just want to know why—”

“Look, I was going for, like, a velodrome thing. Like for speed and better flexibility and less wind-resistance and then like, anonymity as well, obviously, and originally—”

“What about the, uh, pattern?”

“Yeah, okay, okay, it seemed cool at the time! I was fifteen!”

The thought of Peter as a child, alone, in danger, no doubt even ganglier and nerdier than he is now, sends a fresh pang of sadness through you. You try not to let it show. “Do you eat the webs?”

He stares like you’ve just asked if he’d like to swap heads with you. “What?”

“Certain types of spiders go back and eat their webs after they’re done with them. Like, to replenish the protein they expended making them. Do you ever eat yours?”

The expression on his face is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. “Uh, no. It’s inorganic. Like, it’s a, like essentially a nylon polymer composite. It’s not edible. I mean, I’ve never tried, but it’s designed to dissolve after a few hours, so I guess if you did really want to eat it, it wouldn’t hurt you…” He trails off, sheepish, looking at you sideways. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Yeah,” you say, unable to stifle your smile any longer. 

He grins and ducks his head. He hasn’t shaved today, you note; there’s a little bit of stubble along his jawline. 

Your chest hurts. Seeing him, being close to him, just like before. It pulls open the ache of missing him, turning it from a bruise into a wound. You know you shouldn’t. You tell yourself not to. But you do it anyway.

“I miss you.” Your voice is barely louder than a whisper. 

He looks so fucking sad. His eyes are huge and pained and so close, and then they dart down to your lips, and you see it; the precise split-second the urge hits him, then the one after as he fights it, and your heart sinks and you’re about to lean back but then his mouth is on yours and it’s soft and it’s warm and unbearably gentle as his hands sweep up to the base of your neck.

It’s not the best kiss you’ve ever had. 

You’re twisted uncomfortably to face him. Your hands lay shocked in your lap, and you’re pretty sure he can hear you attempting not to sniffle too much with your breathing, and you’re so busy worrying about it that you forget to open up to him; his tongue touching the edge of your lips. His fingertips brush the stitches at the back of your head and you flinch, pulling away.

“Oh, shit, sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, visibly mortified. 

“It’s okay,” you say. “Didn’t hurt. It’s just sensitive.”

“For kissing you,” he clarifies. “I know we’re not, like…you know. Anymore.”

That hurts. You shake your head. “We could be. We could try.”

“I can’t ask you—"

“No. Don’t do that. What do you want?”

He exhales through his nose and a tiny, pained sound escapes with it. “It’s not that easy—“

“It is. It is that easy. What do you want?”

“You have no idea,” he says, suddenly. “God. You have no fucking idea how bad I want you. I want this. You’re the only thing I. Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes, frustrated. “You just have no idea how bad this could go.”

“I do,” you tell him, gently. “I know exactly how bad it could go. And I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so sorry that happened. It’s so, so fucked up that that happened and I’m so sorry, and I know nothing I can say will ever make any of it any less fucked up, but fucked up things happen. They happen all the time for normal people, too. And fucked up things are going to keep happening and it’s inevitable and it’s part of being alive and that’s why we just need to take that risk every day, and choose to—to try to just be happy in as many stupid fucking hopeless ways as we can anyway, because we deserve to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

He’s staring at you like he wants to believe you. Like he wants to cry. “You need to know,” he says, reaching his hand out, pulling it back. “I can’t promise you this’ll be okay. If you still wanted…I would try. I would try so, so hard for you. Harder than I’ve ever tried at anything. But I—I still just have no way of knowing that it’ll be okay.“

You smile at him, shaky and sure. “That’s any relationship, Parker.”

This time when he kisses you, you’re ready. Your mouth opens eagerly under his, catching the faint metal-salt of his skin, the dryness where his lips are ever-so-slightly windburnt. 

All the breath leaves your body in a rush. You shove your hands up through his hair, lifting up onto your knees and sliding across his lap until you’re straddling him on the couch. 

He tilts his head back to work his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands sliding up underneath your shirt to find the edges of your bra, and it’s awkward and clumsy and you’re both breathing hard by the time he manages to get your jeans unzipped and his hand cramped into your underwear. 

“Holy shit,” you gasp, half-dizzy from kissing without pause. You almost bite him when his fingers find your clit. “Can you—yeah, like that, oh, my God—"

“Hold on, it’d be better if, let me…” he murmurs, frustrated, and you let out what could only be described as a yelp as he lifts your entire weight up to easily shove your jeans and underwear the rest of the way off your legs before settling you back down over his lap. 

You’re stuck between trying to grind down against the front of his jeans and trying to give him enough space to work his hand back between your legs, ultimately deciding on the latter as he finds your clit again, this time his attentions unhampered by clothing. 

His body hasn’t forgotten yours. It only takes a few moments of searching before he has you melting into the palm of his hand; your bones soft and hot inside you as you roll your eyes closed. It’s easy with him, just like before, but better.

You’re almost close when he eases two fingers inside you, and that’s easy too, so easy, the way you give for him. Your forehead rests against his as your lips come apart; too focused for kissing anymore.

“I missed you,” he breathes, working his wrist. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You flex your thighs as you rock with the movement of his hand, and that’s when you need to touch him, urgently. It takes a little repositioning before you manage to open his jeans and ease his cock out, wrapping your fingers loosely around him. 

You feel him tense and shudder as you stroke him, too slow to really get him anywhere, too lost in the way his long, firm fingers curl inside you. 

He noses along your jaw, mouthing lazily at your damp skin, his eyes closed, and then he’s there, right where you need him, and you’re clenching and biting down on the sounds trying to escape as you come apart sudden and hard around him.

You’re still loose-limbed and shaky when he pulls his slick fingers free, gently moving your hand out of the way to grasp himself instead. You feel a little guilty; you’d almost forgotten about him straining in front of you, but he doesn’t seem to care as he jerks himself quick and short in his fist. His other hand cups the swell of your ass as he huffs hot breath into your hair, your neck, coming sudden across the inside of your thigh.

You slump your weight against him. 

Neither of you speak for a while. Your hand is curled between your bodies, trapped where it’s warm and you can feel his heart slowing in his chest. He runs his hand absently from your hip to your thigh, then back again.

“Peter,” you murmur.

“Mmm.”

“You do need to promise me one thing, though.”

He moves, just enough that he can look up at you. His cheeks are flushed. “What?”

“We can never. And I mean never. Tell Bear we fucked on her couch.”

His eyes widen in horror. “Oh, my God. She already hates me.”

“I know. But it’s okay, because we’re not gonna tell her.”

“I just don’t know if I can keep that secret; I’m not good at subterfuge, y’know, I’m just not that kinda guy—"

“Yeah, yeah, okay—"

“—and you should see me under pressure; I fold like origami—"

You kiss him again, just to shut him up, and feel his lips curling up against yours. 

Your thighs feel sticky and gross, and you’re starting to get cold, and when you get up you nearly fall over from the cramp in your leg from sitting so awkwardly, but you’re too happy to care in the slightest. 

You stand together in the bathroom, cleaning each other up. Every time his eyes meet yours in the mirror you both smile again, giggling and getting in each other’s way, like idiots.

It takes twice as long as it should to get back out to the couch, and you’re hoping he’ll curl up with you again but then you catch him glancing toward the window. “You need to go,” you say. It’s not really a question.

He hedges. “I kind of do, but…”

You offer him a little smile. “It’s okay. Go.”

He nods. You walk him to the door, where he pauses. He chews at his thumbnail, looking at you sideways again from under his eyelashes.

You watch him for a few seconds, waiting. “What?” you finally say.

He presses his lips together, runs his hand through his hair. “So. It’s probably, like, kind of weird. To ask. At this…uh, juncture.”

He’s nervous, you realise. It’s excruciatingly endearing. You nudge him. “I feel like weird’s kind of our thing.”

He grins. “Yeah. I guess. So. I was gonna ask if you’d like to go out. For dinner. Friday night.”

There’s absolutely no way to prevent the smile slowly pulling at your mouth. “Peter. Are you asking me on a date?”

He laughs, a little self-conscious huff. “Uh, yeah. Like. I mean, I wanted to way sooner. But. I guess I wanna try doing things properly this time. If you want.”

You can think of a thousand different things to say, but most of them are embarrassing, so you settle for keeping it simple. “Yes. Fuck yes. Obviously.”

He blinks. “Oh, okay, awesome, holy shit. Okay. Should we…? I don’t have your new number.”

“Oh, yeah, I need to get yours again too.” You pull your phone out and make a new contact before handing it to him.

He stares at your screen for a second, then he snorts. “You have me in your phone as ‘p.p.’?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Why? What do you have me as?”

He laughs again, quiet, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He hands your phone back. He takes a few steps out the door, then he sticks his hands in his pockets. “So. I’ll see you?”

“You will,” you tell him, watching the way his jaw juts crookedly when he smiles. 

He’s halfway to the elevator, walking backwards, his hands still in his pockets when he calls back to you. “Friday, Miss Jersey.”

You laugh. “Quit disturbing my neighbours.”

You stay there long after he’s gone, leaning against your doorframe, smiling to yourself, aching with stupid, giddy affection.

[topguncortez]

What to Expect | Chapter 3

previous part | Masterlist | Next Part

synopsis: Jake confronts you about the news he heard from Bradshaw. You have a scare that sends Jake and Bradley rushing to your side.

word count: 5k

warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, cursing, mentions of infidelity, fighting, spotting, cramping, fear of miscarriage.

Jake felt like he was on the verge of having the cops called on him, as he parked outside of the elementary school. He told himself that he, like the other parents waiting in the parking lot, were here to see someone important. Although, he was waiting on a snot nosed child to come running towards them. That’s one thing Jake couldn’t stand, was the germs that kids carried. He had seen his sisters deal with all sorts of bodily fluids that came from their children whether it be blood or snot or vomit. Jake cringed at the thought of having to clean up someone else's vomit. It was bad enough back in flight school he had to clean his own out of his jet when he’d get sick. 

            He regained his composure as he heard the school bell ring, and an influx of children ran out the front door. It was like a sea of tiny humans charging right at him, not caring for the large vehicles in the area. It gave Jake a heart attack, seeing some of them dart right out in front of cars, not caring to look but getting scolded by their parents. Jake couldn’t even imagine how terrifying it must be to be a parent and how stressful it must be to constantly worry about their safety. His green eyes looked at the school, it seemed pretty secure, like a safe place to be at. But he shook his head as he pushed off of his Mercedes, no place was safe in a world like it is today. 

            Jake could feel the stares of kids, parents and some teachers as he walked down the hallway of the school. He was still in his khaki uniform, and something he knew would get him some eyes. Jake knew that he was a handsome man; women loved to look at him, men envied him, and kids dreamed of being like him. 

            “Mommy, look! He’s in the Navy!” A little boy said, pulling on his mom’s dress. 

            “Uh-huh,” She nodded, dazed by Jake’s beauty. Jake smirked at her, giving her a wink as he continued down the hall. 

            Your room was easy to find (thanks to asking another teacher in the hall), and Jake smiled at the door decorations. It was very much you, and Jake could tell that you probably took the time to cut out each individual animal that was taped to the wall. He could remember coming home from work and seeing the dining room table covered in arts and crafts things, and you working on creating something for your classroom. He missed those nights and days where he’d spend helping you set up your room or putting up some new decorations. 

            You were sitting at your desk munching on a granola bar and looking over tomorrow's lesson plan. You were starting to introduce chapter books to your second graders, and were going to introduce them to the wonderful book that was ‘Flat Stanely’. You sighed and leaned back in your chair, your mind thinking of how the rest of the school year was going to go for you. Sooner or later you were going to have to tell your kiddos that you were pregnant, and you weren’t all too ready for the questions that would follow. You had learned over the years that second graders are very curious little humans, almost too curious for their own good. You had been rehearsing in your head what you would say to them. 

You’d be able to work the rest of the school year, since the baby wasn’t going to be due until July. But what did break your heart was the fact that you wouldn’t be able to start your school year, due to being on maternity leave. You loved the beginning of the school year. It was your equivalent to Christmas Morning, seeing all the new students, getting new supplies, seeing the new fashion trends. And of course, seeing how much your old students grew over the summer. It always warmed your heart when they’d see you in the hallway and come running up to you to hug you. You smiled, sitting up and looking at the card that your very first class had sent you with when you told them you were leaving Lemoore. 

“Miss Kazansky?” A knock came from your door and you closed your eyes. Now this conversation, you hadn’t rehearsed at all. 

“Mr. Seresin,” You replied, turning towards him, “Why are you here?” 

���Ouch, nice to see you too,” Jake said, and walked into your classroom. He looked over your decorations, “I always thought these turkey decorations were cute,” He pointed to the construction paper turkey that was on your bulletin board, “Flat Stanley? Behind on-” 

“Jake, why are you here?” You asked, cutting him off. 

“Because we need to talk,” He said, turning to face you. 

“No, we don’t,” You said, “There is nothing to talk about.” 

“Really?” Jake scoffed, “Cause Rooster says otherwise.” 

“The hell are you talking to Rooster about me for?” 

“Are you-” 

“Miss K?” A small voice said. You looked past Jake and saw one of your students, Owen, standing in the doorway, tears running down his face. Your heart dropped as you pushed past Jake and over to the little boy. One thing you hated was seeing your students cry. 

“What’s up, Owen?” You asked, kneeling down to his level. 

“My mom isn’t here,” He sniffled, “I-I think she forgot me.” 

“Oh that’s nonsense!” You smiled, “No one would forget you. Is she working today?” Owen nodded, “Well, wait in here for a moment, and I’ll give her a call, alright?” Owen again nodded and walked over to his desk, “Do you want a snack?” 

“I can’t have peanut butter, I’m allergic,” Owen said, “Can I read a book?” 

“Sure thing,” You said, and walked over to your snack drawer, which has become your favorite part of your desk as of late, “How does. . . a rice krispy sound?” 

“Great Miss K!” Owen smiled and you tossed it to him. 

Jake watched the interaction between the two of you, his heart warming a bit at the sight. You were always so caring, it was probably something that made him fall so in love with you. You had a totally different side to you when you were in teacher mode, as he liked to call it. It was amazing to see how you could go from this spitfire person, to a down to earth, soft spoken woman. 

“Can I help you?” You said, looking over at Jake. 

“I can wait,” Jake said. You rolled your eyes and looked through your student records on your computer, “This happen a lot with him?” 

“His mother is a single mom who works at the children's hospital on the NICU floor,” You answered, “She also takes care of her grandmother. She’s a hard working woman. She doesn’t just forget her child.” 

“Oh, I-I’m not trying to offend her,” Jake said, noticing your defensive tone, “I was just wondering.” 

“Not all of us have the luxury of working an eight-to-four, Jacob,” You said, picking up the phone on your desk and dialing the number. Jake bit his cheek as he looked over at the little boy reading to himself and eating away on his rice krispy. Owen kind of reminded Jake of Bob. He was smaller, Jake could hardly believe he was in your class when he walked in. He also had glasses that were a bit too big for his face, but in an adorable way. His cheeks were still a bit red from the tears, and every so often Jake would hear a sniffle. 

Jake looked around the room, as you were talking with Owen’s mom, and looked for the kleenex box. Jake grabbed the box and walked over to the boy, holding it out for him. Owen shyly looked up at the pilot and smiled. 

“Thank you, sir,” Owen said, taking a tissue. 

“What are you reading?” Jake asked, nodding to the cover. 

“Oh, ‘The Magic Tree House’!” Owen smiled, showing him the cover. 

Jake squinted reading the cover, “‘The Magic Tree House, Danger at the Darkest Hour’, interesting. About World War Two?” 

“Mhm, it’s about the paratroopers going into Normandy,” Owen said, “I wanna be in the Navy some day.” 

Jake smiled, “Really? Well, I’m in the Navy,” Jake pulled one of the small chairs from another desk and sat down in front of a very wide eyed Owen. 

“Miss Kazansky?” The woman on the phone said. 

“Oh sorry,” You said, looking away from the cute sight in front of you, “Yes, I can stick around another ten minutes or so.” 

“Thank you so much. I thought I coordinated this all with Owen’s dad.” 

“Don’t sweat it, Angie, really, it’s okay. I’m glad he came back in when he noticed you weren’t there. I’d hate for him to still be waiting outside. He’s having a snack and happily reading away a new Magic Tree House book,” You smiled as Owen was deep in conversation with Jake.  

“Thank you Miss Kazansky, you are a lifesaver.” 

“Says you, the actual nurse. I’ll see you in a bit,” You said your goodbyes to Owen’s mom before hanging up the phone, “Well, Owen, your mom will be here soon.” 

“Okay,” Owen nodded, “Hey! Miss K, did you know Mister Jake is in the Navy!” 

“I did, Owen,” You said to him. He had a large toothless grin on his face as he looked at his new friend, “Jake is a friend of mine.” 

“No way! Can he show us the planes someday!?” 

“Maybe,” You said and looked at Jake, who nodded. 

You sat and listened while Jake and Owen talked about all things Navy. Owen was a very smart little boy, and was very intrigued as Jake explained day to day things. Even though Jake was probably talking circles around the poor kid, Owen asked questions and made Jake explain things. It was cute seeing Jake talk to him, you knew Jake was good with kids. You had watched him with his niece and nephew before. It made you feel a little bit better knowing that Jake was comfortable around kids. When Owen’s mom came and picked him up, Jake stuck around to help you pick up some of your things. He smiled as he heard Owen tell his mom all about their conversation. 

“Mister Jake, will you come back some time?” Owen asked him with large hopeful eyes. 

“Sure thing buddy,” Jake nodded, “I’ll bring some of my other friends too, oh!” Jake exclaimed as Owen ran up to him and hugged him. You and Owen’s mom shared a look of shock as Jake patted the top of his head. 

“Owen, come on,” His mom said, “You need to apologize. You can’t just hug people like that.” 

“It’s alright,” Jake smiled, “Here,” Jake kneeled down in front of Owen and you watched as he took one of the silver pins off his collar and handed it to him, “Now you can be. . .” Jake gently grabbed the little boy's jacket and pinned the rank to him, “Lieutenant Commander Owen Nielson, of Miss Kazansky’s second grade classroom. Just remember, she’s the admiral.” 

Owen’s mom smiled at you, before gently taking her son’s hand and leading him out of the room. Jake stood to his full height, a pleased smile as he turned to you. His smile dropped as he saw tears in your eyes, and confusion spread across his features. 

“Why are you-” 

“He never talks like that,” You sniffled, “He’s so quiet and shy. He sits in here during lunch and recess because some of the kids pick on him and he gets anxiety being in loud, chaotic places like that. He doesn’t talk to strangers, not even other teachers. It took him four weeks to talk to me and you just. . . you just walk in here and he talks to you like you’re best friends and he hugged you! He’s never hugged me!” 

Jake’s smile came back to his face as he pulled you in for a hug. You relaxed against his body, nuzzling your face into his chest for a moment. Jake breathed in a deep whiff of your hair, having missed the scent that used to be left on his pillows at night. When you pulled away, you chuckled softly and wiped your tears. 

“I should get home before my own parents start calling,” You said. You grabbed your bags, attempting to put your backpack on your back, before Jake grabbed it. 

“It’s heavy, I got it,” Jake said and you nodded. He followed you to the parking lot, seeing the familiar jeep that now had sides and a top on it, “You covered it?” 

“Yeah. . .” You said. It was weird that the orange four door had all four doors on it. Jake frowned, he knew how much you liked feeling the wind in your hair as you drove. It was the reason why Jake bought a Dyna Super Glide, for you guys to ride on up the coast. He missed having you sitting on the back of his motorcycle. He actually sold it when you two broke up. 

There was an awkward tension between the two of you. There was something that needed to be said, that needed to be talked about but neither one knew how to start that conversation. Instead, Jake stood there and watched as you put your belongings in the backseat of your car. You shut the door and faced Jake, stuffing your hands into the pocket of your dress. 

“I uh. . . I have another appointment in two weeks,” You said and Jake nodded, knowing exactly what you were talking about, “Heartbeat appointment.” 

“Wow,” Jake said, “Is uh. . .is everything alright? Sick or anything?” 

“Every single morning and night,” You scrunch your nose. Jake loved when you did that, “But so far yeah, everything is alright. They’re the size of a raspberry.” 

“Growing like a weed,” Jake laughed. You giggled and Jake felt his heart flutter, “Well, I should let you get going home. Text me the details of the appointment.” 

“Can you send me your number?” You asked nervously, “I deleted yours when we broke up.” 

“Oh. . .  yeah, I’ll send you a text,” Jake wondered what else you had deleted. He still had everything on his phone, your texts, your voicemails, pictures and videos, even some emails that you had sent. It made Jake’s heart hurt that you tried so desperately to move on from him, while he was still stuck on you. He also noticed that you took down the car charm he had gotten you for your first anniversary. 

“Thanks, I’ll see you, Jake,” You said, and opened the door to your car. 

“Yeah, you too,” Jake said, and waved as you started up your jeep and pulled out of the parking lot, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

That night, Jake stayed up researching and reading all he could about pregnancy, printing off articles and documents. He highlights important facts and key things to be aware of. He smiled as he read that at eight weeks his baby was growing a millimeter a day. 

— — — 

Jake woke up the next morning with a smile on his face. He laced up his tennis shoes and went on his usual three mile run with the dog that you and he had adopted. In the breakup, Jake had asked that he kept Herc, and you agreed but took the two cats Fred and George. Herc was an excited two year old german shepherd that had one floppy ear. He was a loyal pup, and Jake pretended to not notice how even after you left, Herc would take his toy to your side of the bed and sit, waiting for someone to throw it. 

“What’s for breakfast, Herc?” Jake asked, as they walked through the front door. Herc barked in response and Jake nodded, “Eggs and french toast it is!” 

Jake turned on his speaker, pressing play on the same playlist he had on his phone for the past five years. You named it ‘Flyboy’ and it was full of classic 80s hits. The opening beats of ‘Jessie’s Girl’ sounded through the kitchen, and Jake felt his heart clench. He was reminded of those Sunday mornings after spending Saturday out drinking with friends until the late hours of the morning. You had always been a morning person, and Jake found you down stairs, wearing one of his large t-shirts and panties, cooking away while singing, one too many times. He pushed the thought away as he grabbed the makings for breakfast. 

Herc was right by his side, sitting dutifully as Jake prepped his meal. The pup’s honey brown eyes watched his owner, waiting for a scrap of bacon to fall on the floor for him to eat. When Jake was done cooking food, before he sat down, he got Herc’s kibble ready, sitting it on the ground next to the barstools. Jake’s apartment was nothing like the house that he had in Lemoore. The apartment was plain, not a single thing on the walls. He was surprised that he even had living room furniture. Jake eat in silence, while watching the morning news on the small TV he had in the living room, angling it so he could see it from the kitchen. 

Jake’s fork was halfway to his mouth when his phone went off. He froze for a second, looking down at the caller ID, before putting his food down and picking the phone off. Herc barked at the clatter of the silverware. 

“It’s momma calling,” Jake said to the dog, and then swiped to answer it, “Hey-” 

“There’s something wrong,” You said and Jake pushed himself up from his chair. 

“What’s wrong?” He put the phone between his ear and shoulder, grabbing his plate and putting it in the sink. 

“I’m cramping and bleeding,” Your voice sounded far away and scared. Jake felt his heart start to pound in his chest. 

“I’ll be there in fifteen. You’re at your parents house?” 

“Yes but I already called Bradley. He’s on his way.” 

It was like a nail in the coffin as Jake gripped the phone in his hand, grabbing his keys, yelling a quick goodbye to Herc as he went to his car, “I don’t care. Bradley’s not the father, I am. And I am on my way.” 

You sat on the floor of your bathroom as you waited to see who would arrive first, Jake or Bradley. Bradley was already on base, which was a good twenty minutes away, but he was known for speeding and could make it in ten. But then again, Jake left his apartment in a rush, and you knew he drove fast too. You cursed as you leaned your head against the cupboards. Your stomach was still cramping and you were too scared to look if you were still bleeding. Your mind went to the worst case scenario when you woke up this morning and found some blood in your panties. 

The front door opened and you pushed yourself up off the floor. Your parents were already at work, and you were thankful for it. You weren’t sure how you would explain to your father that his two instructors raced to get to your side. You looked out the large window as you descended the stairs and saw the shiny white Mercedes Benz sitting in your driveway. Jake had won this race. 

“Love?” Jake called out to you, meeting you on the stairs, “Have you called your doctor?” 

“Yeah,” You let out a sigh of relief. There was some comfort in having Jake here with you, “She told me to go to the ER and get checked out.” 

“Alright, let’s go,” Jake said, and put a hand on the small of your back. 

“Where’s Bradley?” You asked. 

“Texted him and told him I got it,” Jake answered and you frowned. You knew it was probably not a nice text message that Jake sent to him. Even though you had Jake with you, you also wanted Bradley to be there. There was something in your chest that ached for Bradley’s comfort right now. Maybe it was the fact that if this is what you thought it was, it would hurt more to have Jake there finding out too. 

“Hey, I can hear the gears in your head,” Jake said as he opened the car door for you. You looked at him and he could see the fear in your eyes, something he used to see when he’d go away for deployments or missions, “It’ll be okay. Whatever is going on, I’m here, okay. I’m not leaving you, love.” You nodded and Jake kissed your forehead, before you got into the car. He helped you buckle up before jogging around to the other side. 

Doctor Miller had already placed a call by the time you arrived in the ER, and they got you back right away. Jake came back into the room with you, and you were wishing you told him to stay out in the waiting room. A nurse came in and took your vitals and got you set up for an ultrasound. Jake studied your bare stomach, seeing if he could see the tiniest hint of a bump. He remembered on one of the various websites he had read that you can start showing this early. 

“Quit staring at me,” You muttered and Jake looked from your stomach to your face. You raised an eyebrow and Jake smiled sheepishly. 

“Just one of the websites said you can sometimes start to show, and I wanted to see,” Jake answered and you nodded. It was quiet for a moment before Jake spoke again, “Are you having weird dreams, cause that’s another thing that happens.” 

“Yeah, every night I dream I’m having a baby with my ex,” You said, looking up at the ceiling, “Oh wait. . . that’s a nightmare.” Jake rolled his eyes. 

“What about-” 

“Can you quit asking me questions? You’re getting annoying.” You looked at him and you could see the light diminish in his eyes. You felt bad. You knew that he was just trying to make conversation, but right now, Jake was the last person you wanted in the room with you. 

“Y/N?” The nurse from earlier knocked on the door, poking her head in. 

“Yeah?” You responded, sitting up slightly. 

“You have a visitor. He says he’s your brother,” The nurse said, and you could see Bradley standing behind her. 

“Yeah, let him in,” You nodded and the nurse stepped out of the way for Bradley to come in. Jake clenched his jaw as Rooster went right to you, engulfing you in a tight hug. 

“Are you okay? Has Doctor Miller come in?” Bradley asked, looking you over for any external signs of trauma. 

“Not yet, she’s on her way,” Jake answered for you, and Bradley turned to glare at him. 

“Have they done an ultrasound? Blood work?” 

“Waiting for Doctor Miller to do the ultrasound. But they took blood earlier,” Jake, once again answered. 

“She can speak for herself,” Bradley seethed. 

“Yeah, I can, and this is going to stop,” You said, pointing between the two of them, “You suddenly both became important to me again. . . sadly,” You rolled your eyes at Jake, “So the bickering needs to stop. And don’t lie to me about getting into a fight last week about me. Payback told me.” 

“Fucking Fitch,” Jake mumbled and sat back in his seat. 

“Really, are you okay? Still in pain?” Bradley said, and brushed his knuckle over your cheek. 

“I’m fine. Still cramping but I think the bleeding stopped,” You answered and Rooster nodded, as the door opened. 

“Oh, you have a guest,” Doctor Miller said coming into the room, “Doctor Kelly Miller, Y/N’s obstetrician.” 

“Jake Seresin,” Jake said, shaking the woman’s hand, “I’m the dad.” 

Doctor Miller nodded and you rolled your eyes, laying back down on the exam table. You were happy that Doctor Miller remained professional as she walked over to the ultrasound machine. 

“Blood work is still showing elevated hCG, which can mean one of two things to us right now. You are also showing increased levels of cortisol, which is the stress hormone. Do you have any new stressors in your life?” She asked, and your eyes went over to the two brooding pilots sitting next to each other. Doctor Miller looked over her shoulder and chuckled, “Baby Daddy and Best Friend?” She asked and you nodded, “Yep. . . been there before.” 

“So you know my pain,” You sighed. Doctor Miller chuckled and grabbed the bottle of gel. 

“Yes, but imagine baby momma, yourself and your best friend,” Doctor Miller said, “It was a fun nine months when the wife and I had our first baby.” She moved the transducer around on your belly, pushing down just slightly. You winced as she pushed on your full bladder, trying to get an image of your baby. Jake and Bradley’s eyes were locked on the screen too, trying to catch a glimpse. Jake had seen enough ultrasounds to know what to look for, whereas Bradley was stumbling blind into this. 

“There!” Jake said pointing at the screen. 

“You are not a doctor Jake, shut up,” You snapped and Doctor Miller smiled. 

“He’s right though,” She said, taking a picture of your uterus and then setting the transducer down, “Here’s your baby,” She pointed to the screen, and then looked at the nurse in the corner, “See if we can get a doppler in here, I want to see if we can get the heartbeat.” The nurse nodded and left the room quickly, “From what I can see, you are measuring well for eight weeks.” 

“Size of a raspberry,” Jake nodded, “They also have taste buds.”

“Shut up,” Bradley said, hitting his arm. 

“Someone’s reading,” Doctor Miller said. 

“Yeah, a little too much,” You shifted on the bed, “What about the cramping and the blood?” 

“As scary as it seems, it’s normal,” Doctor Miller answered as the nurse came back in. She handed her a small pouch, “The cramping is from your uterus expanding, you’ll feel it throughout the pregnancy. If it’s severe like a period cramp, then you need to come in right away. Same with the blood. Spotting early is common, your cervix is sensitive and your body is getting used to not having a menstrual cycle,” You watched as she set up the doppler, plugging it into the ultrasound machine, “Like I said, if it’s more than just spotting, you need to come in.” 

“Anything else that would warrant her having to come in?” Bradley asked, “She’s sick almost every day. Like violently ill, I never knew one person could spew up that much.” 

You grimaced at Bradley’s words. 

“Is it that bad? Dizzy and weak during the day?” Doctor Miller asked and you nodded, “I’ll order you some motion sickness patches. They’ll go behind your ear for about four hours and then remove. Are you spending a lot of time on your feet?” 

“I’m a second grade teacher,” You answered. 

“Compression socks will be your best friend then, it’ll help with swelling.” 

“Don’t want cankles,” Jake said and Bradley again, smacked his arm. 

Doctor Miller chuckled as you groaned. She moved the small transducer around your lower abdomen. The room was quiet until a loud whooshing sound filled the room. Jake moved in his seat, trying to get closer to your belly, his eyes wide as he heard the heartbeat of his unborn child. You looked over at Jake, a soft smile on your features. 

“There,” Doctor Miller said, “Heartbeat is strong and steady. Baby is looking healthy and strong.” 

“Just giving their parents a scare,” Jake said and you nodded. 

“Enough of that shit, little one,” You said, poking your belly gently. Doctor Miller handed you a blue towel to clean the gel off your belly. 

“I still want to see you in two weeks for your appointment. Try and keep your stress levels down, and I’ll send that prescription into the pharmacy,” Doctor Miller said, “I’ll see you in two weeks.” 

“Wait, Doc, can I talk to you?” Jake said as Doctor Miller turned to leave. She nodded and Jake got up, following her out of the room. 

“Ten bucks says he tries and gets her number,” Bradley said, helping you sit up from the table. You groaned and shook your head, “You going back to-” 

“Buckles, you have to stand down a bit,” You said and Bradley looked like you just kicked a puppy. You sighed and fixed your shirt, “This is his baby, as shitty as this all is. There’s nothing I can do about it. And I appreciate all you have done for me and the baby, but. . . you have to stand down, just a bit.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bradley said, looking down at the floor, “I didn’t mean to overstep. But, Y/N, I care about you and the Little Bug.” 

“Little Bug, huh?” You smiled and Bradley nodded, “I kinda like that. Bug and little bug,” Bradley smiled and you hugged him again,  “I love you, Buckles. I’d be so lost without you.” 

“I love you too, Bug,” Bradley said, rubbing your back. You pulled back from the hug and placed a kiss on Bradley’s cheek. 

“I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for coming,” You said and squeezed his arm before leaving the exam room. 

Bradley let out a deep sigh and shook his head. He knew that he needed to back off a bit, but hearing it hurt more than it should. There were a lot of things Bradley didn’t know, but one thing he did was the fact that he was hopelessly and utterly in love with you. And you’d never be able to love him back. 

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[makosworld]

Double Team!

diluc x f!reader x kaeya

A/N: dedicated to my love for them. not shipping kaeya x diluc in this btw. hope you enjoy ;)

Notes/warnings: non descriptive smut, separate smut with each

You are but a measly worker at Dawn Winery.

“Hey, you bitch, get over here and take this barrel upstairs,” some random higher up worker calls to you. Obliging you carry the barrel upstairs, however, it’s slightly blocking your vision and you take a wrong turn.

…

Placing down the barrel, you find yourself in an unfamiliar hallway. Looking around you decide to go back the direction you came from. Bending down to pick up the barrel you hear footsteps coming up behind you. You turn to see a man with beautiful blue hair cascading down his shoulder, as he speaks. “I wasn’t aware there was going to be a guest up here, Diluc?” Turning you spot another man. This one, Diluc, has fiery red hair falling elegantly down his back. He stares at you a moment too long before looking back to Kaeya who has a sly glint in his eye.

“Funnily enough, Kaeya, I wasn’t aware either. Who are you, miss?” He asks, looking you up and down.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. I think I took a wrong turn, because I couldn’t see around this huge barrel and then-” Coming closer, Kaeya puts a thumb over your lips. Your rambling comes to a stop in a second and you’re left looking at him incredulously. He's staring at you. “W-what..”

“Can we keep her? She’s far cuter than you Diluc.”

“WHAT!”

“Kaeya, please sto-“

“Relax, both of you. I was merely joking.”

“I’m sorry, for my.. brother. Please, come have a drink, with me.” He offers placing a hand on your lower back, in attempts to guide you along with him. The offer to be alone with your boss, in his office...

“Sir… really it was no big deal, and plus I can’t just leave the wine barrel in the hallw-” You get cut off again.

“That’s why Kaeya will be doing that for us, right dear brother?” Diluc looks at him with a cocky grin, tempting him to refuse.

…

You. Diluc. Alone. In his office. Placing his grape juice glass down he asks, “So, clearly you work for my winery; are you new to the company? Apologies for not knowing. I used to hire people myself, but the company has really grown and I can’t seem to find time for it.” He says looking at you remorse in his expression.

You place down your glass, as well, and lean over denying his worries, “Oh, of course it’s nothing to apologize over, I’m sure your very busy. I doubt you would remember me, anyways, I’m but a measly low ranking worker.” Surprised at your insistence and the position you’ve placed yourself in, your upper body leaning against his wooden desk he stops for a second and stares at you. Eyes roaming your frame.

“I think you’re worth far more than you give yourself credit for.. oh, it seems I didn’t catch your name..?” Giving him your name he hums, and repeats it; the sounds rolling of his tongue smoothly. It sounded so beautiful from his mouth, his lips and tongue… You move to pick up your glass, but your hands are moist with sweat (is it getting hotter in here?) and the glass slips from your grip. You startle and the glass falls onto your lap and the liquid onto your shirt, making it sheer. Diluc raises, and pushes your chair back to sit in between your legs on the ground. His hands grabbing onto your thighs.

“Are you alright?” Face filled with worry he finds the glass hasn’t broken and you’re not hurt. Relaxing he picks it off your lap and places it onto the table.

“I’m fine Diluc, don’t wor-“ And you, never being able to catch a break, are cut off once again.

“No, no, come with me,” taking your hand he leads you to his private bedroom. It’s clean, doesn’t seem like he uses it much other than for sleeping. He leads you to his bed, prompting you to sit. “Remove your shirt, please.”

“W..what..”

“Ahm- you’ll need a change, because your shirt is ruined, I mean.” He rummages through a drawer before pulling out a shirt. “This should do, right?” Thanking him, you unbutton your shirt while he looks away. Then, the door slams open and in walks Kaeya.

“Finally, found you, guys. What have you two been…” His face lights up with surprise seeing your shirt halfway down your arms. Surprised you try and put it back on.

“Wow, did Diluc actually seduce someone?” Kaeya teases moving his way closer to you. “I really didn’t appreciate having to leave you and my brother alone-“

“You say that as though you are someone to be trusted alone with,” Diluc cuts Kaeya’s accusations off with his own.

“Well, if I was alone with her I would’ve made a move much faster than you, after all I’m not such a coward. In fact, watch this…”

…

You’re on Kaeya lap. Your shirt is laying somewhere on the floor. Kaeya’s fingers tease along your sides leaving a burning feeling where they touched your skin. After fighting off his outer accessories and clothes he’s left with only his pants. His hands travel along your skin and with a suspicious amount of precision he clicks and slides off your bra in one fluid motion. He continues roaming his hands across your torso, when he lifts your face to meet his. He kisses you slowly and as you begin to melt into the kiss he rubs a finger over your chest. When you let out a gasp, he slides his tongue into your mouth. His tongue explores your mouth and you can feel him smirking against your lips. Parting for air his mouth moves down to your neck leaving wet kisses and bruises in it’s wake, and his mouth lowers to your chest. His movements force a whimper out of your mouth. You begin to fumble with his belt before removing it completely.

…

He's got you laid against the bed. Hovering over you, “You sure this is okay, love?” At your conformation, he moves his fingers to your mouth, signaling for you to open it. His fingers are warm, and as you run your tongue along them and suck, he lets out a groan. His fingers, wet with your spit, move down…

…

Kaeya moves his hips at a fast pace, his head in your neck, muffling his moans of your name. You grip the sheets as his name tumbles out of your lips. The burning feeling comes closer with every one of his thrusts until.. “..k-kaeya.. I’m..”

…

Diluc shifts in his seat after watching the scene in front of him unfold. He’s already striped himself to his underwear and is noticeably erect. Kaeya kisses your hand and bides you a good time, leaving you with Diluc.

Climbing off the bed still wobbly you almost trip, but he shoots up to steady you. You push him back into his rooms desk chair, and climb onto his lap. You lean into him and begin kissing him a little sloppily. Grinding down onto him he lets out a whimper. Giving you access to his mouth, you slip in your tongue and feel around his mouth. He suddenly sucks on your tongue making you groan into the kiss. Detaching from his mouth you help him remove his underwear and get in between his legs, on the ground. Grabbing him in your hand your mouth lowers.

…

He's close. Diluc grips onto your hair like his life depends on it. Whimpers of your name fall from his lips like a prayer, as you move your mouth up and down his length. He comes undone into your mouth, and you swallow as best you can. Some dribbles out from the corner of your lips, and his finger moves to wipe it away.

…

You’ve gotten yourselves properly cleaned up with a bath and a fresh pair of Diluc’s sleeping clothes, and now you lay between both him and Kaeya on his bed. They hold you from each side as you alternate between who’s chest to squeeze your face into. You quickly drift off to sleep, comfortable and happy.

[yourimagines]

Could you do like Islam or Khabib getting really mad at you for whatever reason and then we don't talk to him for a few days and he apologizes?But only If you're okay w it<333

Of course, I’ll do them both. First one is Islam

Madness

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Gif is not mine

* Triggers: Anger, Swearing, Sadness, Anxiety and Fluff

Y/N POV

Islam was normally a very cool and calm guy towards his friends, family and of course to me, but this morning he was a little bit irritated but about what I didn’t know.

“Your coach called this morning.” I said to him as he was sitting on the chair in the kitchen. “What did he say?” He asked me as he took a bite from his sandwich. “That he was disappointed that you didn’t showed up last night.” He stopped eating and rubbed his face. “Why did you picked up the phone?” I shrugged and walked over to the fridge. “I didn’t know it was your coach.” He only shook his head and pushed his unfinished plate with food away. “Well you ruined my appetite now.”

I was busy inside with our laundry when he walked in, anger was lingering in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” He only shook his head and leaned against the door frame. “Coach called, I’m not allowed to come in today…” I stopped with I was doing and walked over to him. “Oh baby, I’m sorry to hear that.” He stepped back as I went in for a hug. “No, this is your fault. If you didn’t picked up the phone, this would never have happened.” He crossed his arms In anger. “That’s not true and you know it.” He sarcastically laughs and walks away from me, leaving me confused behind.

Islam POV

I was about to explode and I knew I needed to leave before it was too late. “Don’t walk away from me, I don’t understand.” Her voice sounded behind me as I walked back downstairs. “You never understand, please leave me alone now.” I rubbed my face angrily and slammed on accident the door to hard open, causing it to slam it into the wall. “Islam.” She said in a gasp. I rolled my eyes and walked further away from her. “What’s going on with you.” I turned around to face her and saw she was looking at our damaged wall.

“Me?! It’s more what is wrong with you.” She looked up and I saw she was getting angry too. “Well I’m not the one, breaking our house down.” I threw my hands up. “You think I did that on purpose?” She crossed her arms and nodded. “Yes you did because you’re angry with me.” I laughed sarcastically again and walked away. “My wife, I never thought you would be so fucking delusional.” I grabbed my phone and saw Khabib had texted me, about being disappointed in me. “And you fucking ruined it again with Khabib.” I said angrily and smashed my phone on the table.

Y/N POV

He just changed from being angry to being furious. He smashed his phone on the table. I jumped at the sudden outburst and froze on my spot. He was mumbling things in Russian and left the house, leaving his phone broken on the table. “What in earth happened here….”

—— a few hours later ——

Islam just got back and cleaned up his mess, throwing his phone in the trash and repaired the hole in the wall. “Baby, I’m getting some take out, you want something too?” He asks me as I was lying on the couch, watching tv. I stayed quiet, not in the mood to talk to him right now. “No? Okay whatever.” He shrugged and walked away again. “Yeah whatever.” I mumbled to myself.

Islam POV

A few days passed and she was still ignoring me, giving me the silent treatment. So I was trying to make it up to her, saying I’m sorry that I just snapped. “She’s still ignoring you?” Khabib asked me as we walked over to the front door of my house. “Yeah, totally ignoring me.” He hummed and walked past me as I opened the door. “Good, you deserve it.” I shook my head and closed the door. “Hello Mrs Makhachev.” He says to her as she greets him politely. “Hello, welcome.” The kitchen smelled like fresh baked cookies and on the counter was a bowl filled with chocolate cookies. “You made this?” He asks as he took a bite from one of the cookies. “Yes I did, please take them. I baked enough.”

“You just need to man up and say I’m sorry. Woman like that.” I sighed and rubbed my face. “I don’t know, I fucked it up.” He nods slowly. “Yes you did but you’re not giving up on this, right?” I shook my head. “Of course not. She’s my wife, I married her because I love her.” He patted my shoulder and smiled. “Then apologise my brother.”

She was standing in the kitchen, cleaning up her baking mess. “My wife?” I gently called as I entered the kitchen. She stayed quiet, humming along with the music that was softly playing in the back. “Baby? I know you’re ignoring me but please let me apologise to you.” I blocked her path as I trapped her between my body and the kitchen counter. She sighs and looks up, her eyes were filled with hurt and disappointment. “And what if I don’t accept your apology? You’re smashing stuff again.” I knew that was her breaking point, my anger. “Of course not, I-I didn’t mean it. I never wanted to hurt you, you’re my wife.” I gently reached my hand out to touch her cheek. “I owe you an apology for my behaviour, it’s up to you if you want to forgive me but please tell me how I can make it up to you, I’ll give you everything.”

Y/N POV

He looked hurt and disappointed in himself as he was pleading for my forgiveness. “Islam…” I gently grabbed his hand that was holding my cheek and gave him a weak smile. “I forgive you but if you ever smash that door again, I never talk to you again.” He starts to smile and cups both of my cheeks in his rough hands. “I promise you I’ll never smash that door again.” I smiled and he placed a soft kiss on my lips. “Good because I was so excited to tell you I used my new baking tray.” He laughs and pulls me to his chest. “Yeah, tell me all about it my love.” He gently placed a kiss on my head and listened carefully to me as I was rambling about my new baking supplies I bought last week.

[ann-writes-universes]

Memento Vivere (Azriel x Reader)

A/N: I wasn't going to give a part 2 to "Memento Mori" but here we are. Hope this mends the heart ache a tad <3

Warnings: Angst (ish)

W/C: 2.2k (short and sweet <33)

Pain had never been so palpable, so real. 

You had experienced grief, had felt those inky tendrils wrap around your heart and squeeze until you were sure you too would die. But never, never had you grieved for someone that was still attainable, still sitting here in front of you scooping peas and lamb onto their plate. Dinner was going as it always did. Wine was flowing and laughter was echoing amongst the walls of the river house dining room. Yet it was so different, so raw. Azriel sat across from you, silent and unnervingly still as he ate. 

From her spot near the end of the table, Mor watched, watched as you watched him and bit your tongue. She had heard the argument in the kitchen days before, they all had heard it. Yet no one commented, no one pried. What could they have even said? 

“(Y/N)?” She spoke, everyone quieting a bit when she addressed you. You hummed as you looked up, peering at her over the rim of your crystal glass. Smiling softly, she cut into her food and watched it as she continued speaking.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

Clearing your throat you glanced at Azriel who was now staring at you, and placed your glass down. 

“Uhm. Yes, I have actually. I’ll go.” You nodded with a smile, pushing the carrots around on your plate. Everyone else was smiling, nodding softly. Azriel just looked confused. 

“What offer?” He spoke around a bite, looking at his food once more. He was cutting the lamb with a stiffness that was foreign to him.

Everyone watched the two of you with bated breaths, poised to up and run if you erupted once more. 

“Mor asked me to travel with her to the Steeps to survey some camps. Make sure they are following the laws.” You replied, not once looking at him as you replenished your glass and quietly asked Elain to pass the potatoes. His silverware clattered to the table top and his hands were clasped in front of him, squeezing together so hard his knuckles were white. 

Rhysand let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, effectively pushing away from the firing zone if you decided to throw something at his brother. 

“Absolutely fucking not.” Azriel grit out through clenched teeth. Raising a brow you looked up at him, twirling the dark liquid in your glass. 

“Excuse me?”

“I said absolutely not. You won't be going with her.” 

“Since when are you making decisions for me Azriel?” 

“Maybe we should step outside.”

“No.” You replied firmly, setting the glass down and staring straight at him. He held your gaze as you flattened your palms on the table and leaned towards him, highly aware of the eyes on you, “I’m going with her to the steeps, because it is my job. Lest you forget I have one.”

“(y/n)...” Elain called softly, reaching to gently grab one of your flattened hands. You shook it off, perhaps a bit too violently. The Archeron sucked in a breath and retreated into her seat, you made a mental note to apologize later.

“What was it you thought I did again?” You asked, getting some sick form of satisfaction from the way his eyes shuddered and he leaned backwards in his seat. Scoffing, you stood from your seat and began to clean up your plate. Without bothering to ask if he was through you snatched his plate and glass from in front of him stacking them with your own.

“Oh thats right!” You laughed, fighting off the angry tears that burned your eyes. They were all watching you, looking utterly defeated. “Play Housewife. That's what you said I do. Well let me just do my fucking job then.” You growled before exiting the dining room with a slamming door that had Feyre jumping in her seat. Azriel sighed and slumped in his chair, rubbing his temples to ward off some imaginary migraine. Cassian whistled slowly with his brows raised as he and Nesta stood and made their leave, Elain following shortly after. 

Mor watched him with narrowed eyes, absolutely itching to take her dinner knife and lodge it in his thigh if the pain would just open his eyes. Had he not heard the hurt and anger laced in your words? You had been practically pleading for him to listen to you, to fight back, to do something. 

“Youre a fucking asshole.” She whispered, meeting his gaze for a moment before stalking off to find you. He watched her go through the corner of his eye, and stiffened as Rhysand and Feyre leaned impossibly closer. 

“On with it then.” He spoke with a sigh. Rhysand’s lips thinned into a tight line and Feyre smiled sadly at her friend. The trio sat in silence for a moment before Rhysand spoke. 

“Have you spoken to her?”

“The other day, yes.”

“No Az…” Feyre butted in, her voice urging his eyes to meet her own. The look she was giving him reminded him much of a sorrowful mother, unsure of how to help her child. “Have you spoken to her.” She urged, folding her arms on the table. The spymaster made to retort when Rhysand cleared his throat and fixed him with a pointed look. 

“Speaking at her and speaking to her are two very different things brother,” Rhysand looked to Feyre then with a soft smile “Take it from me.” 

~

Mor had found you in your room, and had stayed with you until she was sure you wouldn't break into sobs or begin to break the nearest items you could set your hands on. When she had left you weren't sure those options were entirely out of the picture. 

How could he opt out of your life for months and then be upset that you were finally picking it up again? 

Going to the steeps with Mor was risky, yes, but enforcing laws set by Rhysand was your job. A job you hadn't done in full capacity since the end of the war. It had been too hard, too heartbreaking to go into those camps and see those girls be brutalized and maimed. Agreeing to go and seek out wrong doings was a step in the right direction. A step in living your life again instead of taking the backseat position you had reduced yourself to. 

After the argument you had in the kitchen with Azriel you had begun to lose hope that he would ever be present again, found it useless to keep mourning someone who had no interest in coming back despite how badly you craved him. 

You curled further into your sheets, let their silky coolness envelope you and wrap around you tightly. Perhaps if you crawled far enough beneath them they would swallow you whole and the issues of the months past would cease to exist. 

He had told you no.

Azriel had never been a fan of you dealing with the Illyrians. He had hated it before you were mated, before you loved. He knew you could handle yourself but hated the idea of you being caught off guard nonetheless. You wanted to cling to the anger he had shown tonight, the concern. But it had been so fleeting, so semipermanente that you shrugged it off and closed your eyes.

“You can't go.” Azriel spoke into the darkness of your bedroom, effectively having you sit up right with a gasp. He was leaned against the door, watching you through hooded lids. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his trousers and his wings were pulled tight. He looked nervous.

“I'm not doing this right now.” You muttered, rolling away from him to watch the stars outside of your window. You heard him move towards the bed, felt his side dip as he sat with his back to you, hunched over to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“Just talk to me. Please?” He whispered. 

“I have been trying to talk to you, Azriel. I'm beyond talking now.” You whispered, eyes racing between constellations beyond your room and the floor, unable to turn and look at him. He took in a shuddering breath and reached a hand backwards, resting it mere inches from your body. 

“I know.”

“Why did you leave?” You asked, letting the question slip through. Your breaths were coming in achingly fast and the cavity in your chest was twisting with anxiety thick as tar. His hand retreated and if at all possible he sank further into himself, his wings falling around him. Rolling over you tucked your own hands beneath your head and watched him. Studied him. 

Azriel swallowed thickly and turned his head to watch you over his shoulder, his eyes were roving over your own looking for something. 

“Because I was terrified.” He breathed, eyes open wide and glistening. You swallowed your words and sucked in a breath. Terrified? Had you not all been? The fear that permeated the river house for weeks after the war had been so fresh. You had all been terrified that it wasn't over, that Hybern was not truly dead but laying in wait for the world to settle. Yet-... yet none of you had left each other. 

He frowned knowingly. He had watched as your family stuck around for one another, laid awake with each other at night when the nightmares were brutal and the sobbing was too strong to handle alone. 

“We all were Az.” You sat up then, tucking your knees into your chest. Suddenly you reminded him of a wounded fawn, retreating into the corner of the bed and beholding him with such wide eyes that he felt nasty and horrifying. 

“I didn't want…” He trailed off, brows furrowing and mouth falling open as he searched for the right thing to say. “I didn't want you to see me terrified. I'm not supposed to be that for you.” 

He straightened and a muscle in his jaw ticked. You realized then that he was still terrified.

Slumping forward you gently grabbed the hand he had laid out once more, noted the shuddering of his arm as you touched him for the first time in months. His eyes fell to your intertwined hands, and stayed there, studying. 

He let it rope its way down the bond then, those inky tendrils of fear that had been wrapping around him for so long. It was hurt and despair so thick it nearly threatened to suffocate you. When you gasped in surprise the feelings faded completely, and his fingers tightened around your own. 

“That's why I closed it off. I couldn't-” He looked away from you, towards the wall but kept his grip on your hand firm “I couldn't control it. I didn't want you to feel that.” His voice was hardly a whisper in the dark of your shared room. Barely breaking over the sound of the wind beyond your window.  

“This isnt about me going to the Steppes is it?” You muttered then, refusing to break eye contact when his amber eyes found yours once more. Lips thinned into a tight line he shook his head ‘no’ and you only nodded. Using the grip you had on his hand you pulled him towards you. He relented but relaxed, allowing you to pull his body into your own. Legs still planted firmly on the ground you cradled his head against your chest, wrapped both arms around his shoulders and rested your chin in his inky black hair. He shuddered as your breath fanned his forehead and your fingers traced the patterns of his tattoos. 

“We were made for one another shadowsinger. And that doesn't just mean we were made for the good of one another-” You silenced the words he threatened to speak with a hand gently pressed to his lips. “We were made for it all. And I promised you that much ten years ago.” You let the bond crack open on your end, let the love and aching pain you had felt leak through and wash over him. Highly aware of the tears spilling down his cheeks you pressed a firm kiss to the crown of his head and hugged him close. He wrapped his arms around your own and sucked in a shuddering breath, letting his fear crash like a tidal wave into the bond once more. 

“I dont know how to come back from this.” He whispered into your arms, his words cracked with a sob. You stretched your legs and wrapped your body around him, curling your limbs until they were twisted safely around his large frame. He too pulled his aching body onto the bed and melted into you, allowing you to be his safety. 

“We’ll figure that part out together, Azriel.” You pressed into his hair and squeezed your arms impossibly tighter around him. “For now we rest.” 

And you reveled in the feeling of him relaxing against your body, in the thud of his boots hitting the floor as he kicked them off, and the slow thrum of his heart as he fell into sleep for the first time in months. Tucked into one another you laid awake, watching the moon pass over the Velaris and the stars twinkle brightly beyond your curtains. You pet his hair and whispered to his sleeping form for what felt like hours before you too fell into sleep. And for the first time in months you were blissfully unaware of the humming sidra outside. Replacing its harrowing melody was the steady beating of Azriel’s heart and the soft rise and fall of his chest pressed into your own.

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