#Rai is not topping tonight that's for sure

[utterlyazriel]

featherlight touch

a/n: and what if i said surprise smut. what then :) my soft launch of the fact i can and do write smut... <3 word count: easy peasy barely over 1k-squeezy synopsis: Given particular knowledge, you try something new. wing!fic

Your knees sink into the black satin sheets of Azriel’s bed and you sigh contently.

Across the room at the window, the curtain is haphazardly drawn, letting in a curious ray of moonlight. A dim glow lights the room.

You’re thankful for it now—the moonlight allowing you to drink in the sight beneath you with a ravenous gaze. Thighs straddling across his hips, you take in Azriel under you with, what can only be described as, ardent hunger.

But, well, it’s not often enough you get to be on top, after all.

Azriel’s wings splay out on the bed, gloriously on display. His scarred hands rest easily on your waist. His hazel eyes, narrowed in a suspicious way, are focused entirely on you. He, as always, looks devastatingly handsome.

“I’m not sure if I like the look of that look.” He comments slyly, shifting his head to flick a stray curl back from his eyes.

His hands on your waist give a gentle squeeze, as if to reassure you that he’s only teasing. His shadows lurk, traversing the rumpled bedsheets with a lazy designation, unbothered.

“Oh, hush,” you respond. “As if I haven’t been on the receiving end of this before.”

At the mere mention of your reversed positions, Azriel grins, even as a hot glow takes to his cheeks. The dusty rose colour sets a warm spark off in your chest and the heat wastes no time heading south, between your thighs.

Your relationship with Azriel is of the newer side, despite how long you've actually known each other. Long time friends, eventually, finally turned lovers.

But these new steps forward together, getting to know each other in an entirely new way—it's still enough to make Azriel fluster. Centuries old he is but a bashful shyness still remains, if only you can coax it out.

Bringing you back to the moment, Azriel squeezes your waist again, one hand shifting across your skin, his thumb dipping closer to your waistband.

“I don’t know what you mean,” He says, even as his satisfied smile gives him away. He watches closely as you pluck up his large hand and move it back to your waist, the message clear. He's not in charge tonight.

“Y’know,” you say, voice softer suddenly.

You haven’t let go on his hand. As you speak, you let your fingers travel down his veined and chiseled forearm slowly. “I learnt something today. From Feyre.”

Azriel watches you intently, the very feel of your skin across his enough to make him shudder in muted pleasure. No one touches him like you do.

Goosebumps break out along his arm as your hand reaches his bulging bicep and you drag your nails across it lightly.

“Is that so?”

Despite all his body betrays him, Azriel is a master at keeping his face and voice cool and calm. You smile at the sight of it, goaded on by his unwavering voice, and let your hand linger, resting on his collarbone.

“What did she tell you?” Azriel asks, his dark brows raising.

Purposefully, you shift your hips an inch, grinding against his own. Azriel barely manages to hide the grunt it pulls from him, his fingers flexing against your waist as if he’s resisting something more.

“She told me,” You say, dragging out the words, sultry and low.

Your hand begins to move, tracing the line of his defined chest and feeling it heave slightly beneath your touch. Tantalisingly slow, you let it trail down, skimming across his toned stomach where you pause.

“That if I ask you nicely, there’s a certain spot—”

Your teasing, trailing touch moves sideways, dipping down his ribcage and nearing his wings. They rustle against the sheets, a minuscule motion, that you hope is in what’s anticipation.

If what Feyre said is true...

Moving slow, so there’s time for him to interrupt you, you reach down and hover your hand over the delicate membrane of his wings.

Intentions clear, your eyes dart to Azriel’s to check.

Pupils blow wide, the ring of hazel you love so much barely visible, Azriel looks debauched before you've even begun. His hands are stilled on your waist and his cheeks are that same glowing scarlet. After a beat it becomes clear he’s waiting, not stopping you.

Grinning, you take your cue.

Brushing your fingers gently across a section of his wings, the reaction is instantaneous.

Azriel shudders, his whole body shivering as a strangled breath passes through his clenched jaw, his eyes fluttering closed. The hands on your waist constrict, tightening his grip, and beneath you his hips shift up, into you.

The shape of him, pulsating and hot, suddenly feels much firmer than before.

“She’s—right.” The words come out in two stilted breaths, Azriel’s chest rising and falling a little faster now as he fights to compose himself. His eyes open, heavier lidded than they were a moment ago. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"Is she?" Your voice is lilted in mock uncertainty, given away by your mischievous grin. "I think I better check again."

This time, instead of a small brush, you try something bolder. Two fingers on either side of a prominent vein, you draw a delicate stripe up his wing.

Azriel whines— a soft, pitiful noise that leaks out through his clenched teeth. It melts into a soft groan as his whole body shifts, his hips shoving up, seemingly out of his control. His hands pull you down at the time, dragging you forward against his hardness.

Something fiercely hot simmers in your gut, both at the friction and his glorious reaction. He's been fucking holding out on you.

"I don't know, I'm still not sure..." You continue, far too delighted to abuse your newfound knowledge.

Stroking another soft line up his wing, this time you're rewarded with a needy whimper. His chest arches up, his head thrown back lightly—nearly writhing in pleasure from just a few touches.

"Oh, Az," You murmur, half consoling and half wicked. His screwed up eyes take a moment to find yours and you relish the panting of his chest. The rosiness of his cheeks has spread, crawling down his neck and beginning along his toned chest.

"This your plan?" He says, but it's nowhere near that unwavering voice from earlier, raspy and on the way to ruined. "To—" He takes a sharp inhale as your nail scrapes the membrane again. "—to tease me all night?"

You're impressed he's got the words out, given the sight of him. His hair looks messier now. Paired with his heaving chest and eyes bright with lust, he looks downright sinful.

"Doesn't sound too bad a plan to me." You say, letting your hips draw forward, then back, the smallest rocking motion against him.

Azriel hisses, his large, scarred hands threatening to bruise your hips with how tight they grip them. He makes no attempt to stop you though.

"What do you think?"

You purposefully retract your hand, hovering it over his wing, and watch his face. Wings are very personal to Fae and Azriel letting you touch his own, in such an intimate way, was not lost on you.

You don't want to overstep, even if you do desperately want to see what happens if you stroke once, twice, three times in a row. Gods do you want to watch him fall apart beneath you, whimpering and whining through it all.

"I think you're a temptress," Azriel says, breathless. His eyes, heavy with desire, give away his answer. A grin spreads across your face, devious and enamoured all at once.

"A temptress you'll let have her way with you?"

"Depen—ah," His voice shudders into another whimper as you touch your fingertip back to his velvety wing, drawing a small circle.

Eyes crushing closed, it takes another moment for him to catch his breath before he speaks again, breath ragged. "Mother above..."

His wing, the one you've been taunting, rustles against the bed. It lifts up an inch before flapping down in an almost impatient motion. Like a cat, wagging its tail. Azriel wets his lips again, their skin cherried and plush.

"Alright," He says, faux begrudgingly. His eagerness is given away by another impatient rustle of his wing and the throbbing length of him, pressing firmly up against you.

His gives your waist another squeeze and then lets go, letting his arms fall lax to his side. Trusting you completely.

"Have your way with me."

[shotmrmiller]

the tale of how simon got himself a gf without stepping a foot outside of base.

anyone can tell you that alcohol reduces the ability to use logic. to see reason. it lowers inhibitions and blurs the boundary lines you've drawn in the sand.

but indulging in drink tonight is justified. you're in need of reprieve after this shit week: broke up with your boyfriend, deadlines at work appearing out of thin air, a flat tire on your morning commute. you even stepped on the end of your cat's tail.

miserable. (she's okay, just giving you the cold shoulder. you'll buy her some tasty snacks tomorrow.)

but for tonight, you're wallowing in your own misery. some uninteresting show is playing on the television, you're cradled by the cushions of your couch, a fluffy sherpa throw over your socked feet.

if only there was a way to melt this week's accumulated stress away even further.

cue the drunk texting your ex cliché.

anyone can tell you that it's detrimental to moving on. it's akin to reopening a wound that's already begun to heal. a step back when you should only be moving forward. your friends would drag you by your hair for being so dumb.

but there's an incessant throb in between your legs that's only getting stronger with every glass of wine you toss back. you're wound tight, violin strings stretched to the brink. a couple of bow strokes away from snapping.

you'll deal with the consequences tomorrow, along with your hangover.

typing in his (deleted in a fit of heartbroken rage) number with fumbling fingers and send a picture of you with the hem of your sleeping shirt between your teeth, the swell of your bare breasts on full display with a cheeky little missing you <3

he responds in minutes even though it's 2:30am.

send a vid and show me how much you miss me.

it makes your pussy clench around nothing, already slick, drooling, begging to be filled. you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you bring up the camera.

when simon first gets the text, he's on edge, gripping his phone hard enough to crack. no one should have this number except for price, johnny and kyle. he's made sure of it-- had laswell pull strings to give him a secure line. no scam likely's, no cold calls, nothing.

but then some silly little bird dials his number by mistake and the sweet cherry on top is that you've sent a nude. breasts on full display-- soft looking, hard peaked. it makes his mouth water, his gums itch. he'd love to sink his teeth into them, into you, hard enough to bruise. mark. claim.

but that's for later, once he finds you.

he texts back and what you send him in response fattens his cock. a small hand tucked beneath the waistband of your flimsy knickers, gusset dampened with warm arousal. you lick your bottom lip, leaving it glossy with spit. your chest heaves with the sharp gasps of breath you're drawing.

but there's a problem. he can barely see what you're doing. he doesn't have x-ray vision, your knickers are in the way. while he can understand the allure, he himself doesn't have the patience for it. either you let him see your bare cunt or don't waste his time.

he wasn't expecting you to agree this fast. maybe a bit of push back, a little snapping of teeth until you relent but no. you're an obedient thing. submissive. just how he likes 'em. (if he wants to break someone in, that's what johnny's for.)

soft, inviting thighs spread wide, a couple of fingers curling inside your glistening cunt. (duly noticing how your 2 fingers are the size of 1 of his.) your moans spill from your lips unreservedly when you roll your pearl in tight, precise little circles. he spits on his hand, heavy length resting in his calloused palm and tugs himself at the pace you've set: jerky, quick, messy.

you come with a whimper, eyes shut and pliant body coiled tight. a frothy, sticky cream coats your fingers, dripping down to your arse, pooling on your couch.

you miss me too? sent 3:27 am

(he decides to keep you. simon can't remember the last time he's had a climax that spine stiffening in a while.)

[vaaaaaiolet]

Anxiety left you sleepless all night. Leon figures his favorite dream of you might help.

mdni CIAO CHILDREN!! f / m smut w established relationship. put bluntly, leon fucks the worry out of you 😭 he talks you through sex by retelling a dream, tiny bit of character study, PRAISE!! TONS of fingering, 0.5 sec of cockwarming, light angst, p in v w/ a happy ending iykwim, aftercare and i love you's awww. also strawberries 🍓

a / n: req fic from my event!! i took the premise from isle of strawberries by edwin raphael and you can find a playlist for this fic here. motivational smut is a first for me LMFAO but i hope this works w your vision, anon <3 also PEE AFTER SEX YOU GUYS

word count: 2.5k // read on ao3

The 5 AM sun shines rays through the cracks in your plan. You thought you’d been convincing enough with your face pancake-flat against the pillow and your left arm thrown out of the blanket just so. You’d even made sure you had a foot poking into Leon’s side the way he always grumps about, but somehow, your boyfriend always seems to see right through you.

Just like now. 

A busybody poke on your shoulder. “Sweetheart,” follows a drowsy whisper, “what’re you doing?”

Sleeping since last night, thank you very much.

“No use playing possum. You haven’t moved an inch since we went to bed and you, ma’am, can’t sleep still to save your life. C’mere,” and you’re tugged to Leon’s side of the bed, the top of your head peppered with slow, sleepy kisses as he hugs an arm around your middle. “Did you sleep at all tonight?”

You clutch his forearm like a safety bar on a rollercoaster. “A little.”

“Enough?”

“Um…” 

Leon kisses his teeth. He’s usually the one on the receiving end of these questions, but he’s picked up a couple things from you. “Too hot? Too cold? Anything I can get you?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just can’t fall asleep.”

A quiet sigh from you, a hum of understanding from him.

“Because you’ve been thinking again.” He asks if you want to talk about it.

“It’s just a bad night,” you mumble, playing absentmindedly with his fingers. “Overwhelmed. Been getting into my head about everything I should be doing but don’t. I feel like I’m letting everyone down all the time.” 

In the champagne pink of the early morning light pouring through the bedroom window, your eyes trace the corded muscle of Leon’s arm around you – a testament to the strength it takes to do his job every day. There’s scars here, burn marks there, a plum-hued bruise.

Your words stumble to a halt. Embarrassed color rises to your cheeks. 

The matter is that scars from his missions to the ends of the earth litter the chest cradling your back right now. Leon must be sore and aching, listening to you whine like a child with too much food on your plate. What could be keeping you up at night when he shoulders your worst nightmares for a living? All while you lay cuddled and coddled? You don’t know the first thing about worry, the paralysis in his bones that must pale to yours.

Guilt creeps up your spine, and Leon frowns at your sudden silence. You’re retreating into a shell he’s called home too many times. He won’t have any of that with you. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he soothes, smoothing back your hair. “I’m still here. You don’t wanna talk right now?” 

You let go of his arm and burrow into your pillow, mumble about how you like sleeping late on weekends anyway.

A scoff sounds behind you. “Sleep late, my ass.” 

Leon’s arm comes circling back over your ribs in an instant. He squeezes you so tight to his chest that you feel his heart thump behind your back, and you can’t help the unexpected laugh that bubbles up your throat when he lets go. It’s his favorite reflex of yours.

“If you won’t talk, I will.” Leon presses a kiss to your cheek. “Gonna distract you for a bit, sweetheart. Humor me?”

“Hm?”

“I wanna tell you about my favorite dream. You’re in it.”

You can’t pretend that doesn’t catch your attention like lightning to a rod. Leon doesn’t dream much, not besides the nightmares that have him scrambling to throw off the covers in the middle of the night. 1998 hangs thick in the air of your bedroom some days, but for him to have a dream where you don’t die for a change? That’s new. 

So is his hand starting to creep under your sleep shirt, playful circles tracing on the soft skin below your navel. Part of his distraction strategy. A successful one, if the skip in your heart rate has anything to do with it.

“This okay?” he rasps.

More than. 

You reach behind, cradling his cheek to kiss him a proper hello; allow yourself an anticipatory inhale when Leon’s hand dives under the waistband of your shorts. It takes exactly three seconds for his middle finger to pinpoint the pearl of your clit, and he circles it twice, maddeningly slow, before sliding right under to trace along the seam of your entrance. 

Leon keeps the pressure light. He needs your head clear so you listen. 

“It always starts the same.” He shifts his hips so yours widen for him. “I’m standing in the middle of a huge field, a strawberry farm. There’s nothing around for miles, just rows of bushes full of berries and storm clouds in the distance. I find an empty basket in my hand.”

You imagine your mountain of a boyfriend holding a basket like Strawberry Shortcake. Adorable. “You dream about picking strawberries?” you giggle, arching your back to fit more comfortably against him, and your consideration earns you a searing dip of his finger into your pooling arousal. 

“That,” Leon chuckles, “and a nagging, sinking feeling that I should be doing something but I can’t.”

Oh. 

“Mhm. It hits me that I have to pick as many strawberries as I can before the storm rolls in, and I can’t even move, sweetheart.”

You swallow the returning lump in your throat. Push down a sigh that was building at the upward roll of his fingertip inside you. Leon tuts at your effort, coaxing the sound out anyway with a press of the spongy spot he knows is tucked at the back of your walls. You crumple at the delicious nudge; it leaves you open to welcome another finger into your warmth.

“But this is a good dream because,” Leon smiles at your next gasp, “then I see you at the edge of the field standing next to a little house, waving at me.” 

He scissors you open like he’s got all the time in the world. You clutch the corner of your pillow when you hear it through the comforter: the soft, rhythmic squelch of his fingers curling into your cunt.

Pretending he can’t hear your whimpered little curses as he coos in your ear, “There you go, listen to that,” Leon continues. “That’s when I start thinking. There’s no way I can save all these strawberries in time. You’re standing there, smiling at me without a clue there’s a storm brewing, and suddenly all I can think about is getting you into the house before you get hurt.”

His lesson becomes one of endurance the more he talks. The fingers pumping into your pussy melt your brain into mush that’s chanting, more, more! Exactly the root of your problem.

“So then I- oh, poor baby. This isn’t enough?” 

Shit. You forgot you talk in your sleep. And apparently when you get fingered too. 

“Guess I can’t blame you. I get distracted in the dream too, fuck.” There’s a pause, a sputtering stop to the lovely fullness when Leon pulls his fingers out and promptly sucks them off. 

Even a worm will turn; you certainly do. You whine Leon’s name when he makes a show of it, gazing at you with half-moon eyes and a boyish grin pulling at his lips. “What, it’s my fault you taste better than the strawberries did?” 

No, for leaving you hanging. You were paying attention — maybe a bit too much.

“It was you, by the way,” Leon chuckles, lifting the comforter so his knees can bracket your thighs. 

“I distracted you in the dream?” you gasp, sliding your hands up his shirt.

“In the best way, angel. You helped me get moving again.”

The peachy light of dawn caramelizes gold as Leon climbs on top of you. It doesn’t warm the bedroom quite yet; Leon makes sure the comforter is tucked over your bare skin after he finishes kicking off his pajama pants. He’s back to murmuring sweet nothings, gently tugging your shirt over your shoulders so he can kiss down the swell of your breasts. You’re so toasty under the covers that the goosebumps now speckling your chest are entirely his fault. 

“I remember you picking a few berries off a bush,” Leon looks fondly up at you under golden lashes, pressing a gentle kiss over your heart, “and you just looked so content eating them. I was fretting over saving the whole field and you were fine with a handful.”

You’re itching to ask: but the storm’s still coming, isn’t it? Thunder, rain, your aching cunt dripping onto the sheets right under him. 

Leon is all too happy to answer. 

One hand cradles the back of your head so he can drop his mouth onto yours, leaving the other free to slip under the blankets, rub consolation over the hood of your clit, and finally, finally, notch the swollen head of his cock at your entrance. You cry out, clutching at Leon’s hair when he sheaths himself in a buttery-smooth stroke – as if it could be any other way with how you’ve melted like chocolate in his hands. You both gasp at the stretch.

Leon’s jaw works as he kisses you, savoring you. Spit bridges your mouths in between split-second gulps of air. Your heart thumps against your ribcage like you’re hanging off a precipice, no difference in the dizzying drop that waits ahead. His length sits adjusting inside the squeeze of your plush walls. 

Leon’s sentences come out chopped and desperate as he alternates sucking berry-toned love bites between your breasts, and he admits, “I don’t save the all the strawberries.”

You wheeze as if you’ve dashed across the field yourself. “No?”

“Just enough to last us the storm. Fuck the rest, figure it’ll grow back. Only need to focus on what matters – getting enough for you – so I pick a couple,” the thick of his cock is suffocating when it’s this still, “run,” Leon pants at the first snap of his hips against yours, outrunning the storm all over again, “and pull you inside the house before lightning strikes.”

Electric pleasure curls up from the base of your spine, spreads to your head and flickers down to your toes as Leon starts pounding into your pussy. No room in your chest for anxiety to linger when your eyes are rolling skyward. The edges of your vision melt into vignette as your lover sinks into you again and again. 

Tunnel vision. 

“Keep those pretty eyes open. Focus on what matters,” he repeats in a frenzied whisper, and the tunnel closes in.

All you see are Leon’s eyes. Smack dab in the middle of his blown out pupils is your reflection.

That’s it.

Coherency goes flying out the window with all your brainpower used up to connect the dots. “Leon, you-!”

“Tell me what you see, sweetheart,” he breathes sharply. “I know you can.”

You beg for mercy at each dig of his blunt cockhead. “Me, I get it, fuck! Please- just let me come!”

Course he can, he just has to drill something else into you first. 

“Need to hear you say it,” Leon grits. Nips at the base of your neck as your nails claw stinging holds on his shoulders. “Shit, I’ll make you see stars, don’t worry, I just need to – oh, you’re so fucking tight! – get it in your head. You can’t shut down on me.”

You thrash under him, make more space for bruising kisses to bloom up your neck. “But you’ve had it worse,” you sob out, overwhelmed. 

“How else do you think I know?”

He’s not letting you head off into your own storm alone. Not when you’ve saved him from his.

“Tell me you’ll let me in next time you get in your head, and I’ll make you come. I’ll make you come so fucking good, baby,” Leon hisses, stealing one last kiss from your panting lips. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

“I will.”

And you ought to thank your lucky stars your levees don’t hold. 

It starts with spiraling cracks. Leon reaching down to press his thumb over your swollen clit. One shaky thrust away from dislodging the last brick holding you together. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flutter of your cunt, choked breaths torn from his throat when the silken clutch of your walls sends him into that final crescendo. 

Leon’s fraying at the edges, obsessive in how rolls his thumb at the bundle of nerves that make you shriek his name, and you, hand in hand with him, finally let the swelling tsunami in the pit of your stomach topple your walls. 

Turns out he’s right. Stars explode across the night sky when your eyes squeeze shut. 

You can’t pay attention to much except the rolling tide of pleasure. Leon’s soon spilling into you, his brow pinched as he blindly works his spend into your cunt under the covers. His forehead glistens with sweat, hell, your baby hairs are a dripping mess, but strangely, you think you’ll spend the rest of your life chasing this warmth again. 

Your heart’s never felt more weightless. 

Glowing seconds sail by. Leon’s shaking arms eventually give way and he collapses onto your chest. You let out an “oof!” at the drop. 

“And then the dream ends,” you hear him sigh, eyelids fluttering shut.

About time, you think, smiling as you brush a thumb over his cheekbone. “Then you wake up?”

“No.” Leon cracks open a sapphire eye and grins. “Sometimes we do this.”

In the little hou- Oh. “Fuck you,” you laugh.

“It’s my favorite for a lot of reasons!” 

He sits up, keeping his touch featherlight when he pulls himself out from between your candied thighs. Tiny aftershocks jerk your thighs once, twice, and Leon takes the time to whisper soft apologies when he reaches for a tissue on the bedside table. 

“I meant it back there, y’know?” he hums, gently wiping off the mess between your legs. “I hate seeing you so hard on yourself.”

“It just feels like I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Especially when you’ve been through worse,” you mumble, picking at the covers.  

The tissue gets tossed into the trash, and Leon shoots you a small smile. “Worse to you, maybe. To me, the worst thing I’ve seen is watching you lose your spark and not being able to help.”

“You really think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I love you.”

So you remember your promise. 

You tell him you love him too, no more secrets to keep in your head. The bedroom blooms warmer than you remember it ever being, a little slice of summer straight out of both your dreams.

You remember the strawberries from the farmer’s market in the kitchen, and that Leon makes killer Sunday pancakes.

You remember how much you love afternoon catnaps with your limbs tangled between his. Infinite possibilities pile high like the papers on your work desk. So much to get started.

Focus on what matters. The rest will grow back.

You turn the other cheek, and kiss your lover on the mouth.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

relaxing

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only, handjob, thigh riding, c*mming on tits, semi public (theyre outside but its very concealed)

“what's up baby?” rafe asks, noting the way you're softly whining as you sit on the patio, staring out at the water, listening to the waves gently lapping against the shore.

“want you.” you complain. you always want rafe, but now more than others as you clench your thighs together.

“i just fucked you this morning, you're already needy?” rafe laughs harshly, making your bottom lip pout out more as you press your forehead against his bare shoulder.

“what do you expect? you're sitting there all shirtless and sexy…” you peek down at his abs, glistening slightly with the sheer layer of sweat on his skin from the warmth of the sun.

“im relaxing right now though, baby.” rafe hums, shutting his eyes as he soaks in the rays.

you huff out in frustration, swinging your leg over rafes thigh and planting yourself down.

“feel free to get yourself off.” rafe places his hands behind his head, leaning back against the plush chaise cushion.

“i will.” you say defiantly, placing your hands on his abs. you're thankful for the lack of clothing your wearing as your bikini bottoms are the only layer you have to push to the side to press against rafes bare skin.

“your swim trunks are so short.” you giggle.

“they're the ones you bought me.” rafe rolls his eyes, pushing the hem down, showing off the the lines of muscle that disappear into his shorts.

rafe places a casual hand on your hip as you begin to move, grinding yourself into his leg, feeling his muscle clench as you move.

“can you-”

“no.” rafe hums. “i told you, im relaxing.”

you groan and move forward so you can rest yourself against rafes front and keep your hips moving. you sigh happily at the stimulation, not needing to get off immediately.

“can i-”

“hm?” rafe questions, bouncing his leg, cutting you off as you gasp.

“can i touch you?”

rafe smile grows, a lazy grin taking over his tanned features. “sure. im just not gonna do any work.”

you sit back up straight, pausing your movements, focus now turned to rafe as you grip the swim shorts you bought him specifically for the short inseam as you pull them further down his hips until you're able to get his cock out.

you're thankful for the privacy of your background, hedges on either side blocking your neighbors view of the patio as you stroke a single finger over his length before wrapping your fist around the base.

“so soft.” you giggle, rarely getting to play with rafes cock when it's not hard.

you gently stroke your first up and down, swirling your thumb over the head every time you move.

“fuck, that's good.” rafe moans, quickly hardening against your palm as you move up and down.

“gonna help me out?” you hum, beginning to slide your hips again, wetting his thigh with your slick.

“nope.” rafe smiles as you groan.

“please! i want you.” you whine, stroking faster, hoping it will entice him.

“and i want you too. i always want you, but this is my relaxing time. if you want anything, you gotta do it yourself.” 

you frown but continue your movements, determined to get rafe off. you consider dropping to your knees and sucking him, but then you'll be left with nothing to grind against.

the gentle hand placed on your hip tugs at your bikini strings, pulling it completely away as rafes hand rounds your body to grip your ass, but despite his fingers in your plump flesh, he gives you no assistance in moving.

“such a jerk.” you pout.

“oh come on, i fuck you real good every day, you can do the work for once.”

“im doing the work!” you stroke faster to prove your point.

“just complaining the whole time.” rafe laughs, the smile not falling from his face as he watches you, your tits bouncing in your bikini top with every movement.

“i love you.” rafe blurts out.

you smile as well, pausing to lean in and give him a big kiss. “i love you too, handsome.”

“and im gonna fuck you so good tonight. get me off baby.” rafe wraps a hand around the one one around his shaft, guiding you to continue moving as you let out soft moans, hips regaining their speed.

“if i bounce my leg and get you off, you'll let me cum on your ass?” rafe questions.

“yes!” you nod quickly.

rafe immediately begins to move, the hand on your ass assisting your grinding as he clenches his muscles and bounces his knee up and down until you're screaming out.

your orgasm washes over your body as your back arches, chest pressing into rafes face.

“fuck, wanna cum on your tits instead.” rafe pushes you off and onto your knees, tugging your top down to reveal your chest as his hand pushes yours off his cock.

you place your palms against his knees, chest heaving up and down from your high as he paints your skin in white.

rafe flops back against the lounge chair when he's finished, dick still out as you lean your head against his thigh, breathing heavily until you're able to use your legs enough to stand.

“wanna swim?” you question.

“skinny dip?” rafe raises his eyebrow, looking up and down your body.

you undo the string on your bikini so it falls away before jumping into the pool just a few steps away.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Theory of Gravity

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Making small talk can be difficult with a crush.

Word Count: 1234

Genre: Fluff Oneshot

Content: Drinking, reader being awkward because she has a crush, flirting

Contrary to popular belief, snitching on the whereabouts of a very dangerous mobster in the bar you worked in and possibly getting killed or maimed in the process was not a good plan for a Friday night but to be completely honest, you had done worse things over a silly little crush.

Like back in college freshman year when you pretended to be into music biopics just so that the hot guy in your elective would think you two were meant to be.

So if anything, this was a pattern.

“Logan?” you said as you put his drink in front of him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“What was Galileo like?”

He blinked a couple of times, the familiar scowl that seemed to be etched on his handsome face getting deeper and you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” he said. “I will lose all the belief I’ve never had in the first place in this country’s education system if you’re serious.”

You gave him a bright smile. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I figured it was better than asking how the public took it when Newton came up with the theory of gravity.”  

The look on his face couldn’t be described with anything but complete horror and you let out a laugh, then went to serve another customer before quickly making your way to him.

“I’m just messing with you,” you said, leaning against the bar as you stole a look at the mobster sitting by the table with his men, then to Wade who was very, very busy with Vanessa by the corner.

“You look nervous,” Logan pointed out, making your head whip up before you cleared your throat.

“Nah, not at all,” you said. “I’m just thinking that if I die tonight, I’ll die doing what I love.”

“Which is?”

Gazing at older men who couldn’t look less interested in me.

“Being surrounded by drunk people who want to give me money,” you said. “Not a bad way to go.”

He scoffed into his drink before taking a sip while you nibbled on your lip, shifting your weight.

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he said, his voice gruff. “We’re just waiting for his partner to show up, then we will deal with them both.”

You nodded your head. “Yeah. Sure, I know.”

“Do you?”

You nodded again, absentmindedly reaching out to play with the cocktail straw on the counter, painfully aware of his gaze on you that made your face burn.

“How’s grad school?”

…He remembered.

He remembered you saying that the last time he and Wade were here.

One simple observer would’ve thought he was on his knees proclaiming his undying love for you with the way your heartbeat went insane and his eyebrows rose as if he could hear it, but you quickly casted the thought away from your mind; that was surely impossible.

“Oh it’s going well!” you said, your voice going high-pitched for a moment. “Came for the hot professors, stayed for the education—I’m joking,” you added in a haste, waving a hand in the air. “I’m a very…very deep and intellectual individual.”

“Uh huh.”

“And none of my professors are hot,” you muttered and wiped at the damp spot on the counter with a napkin. “They should put that on the brochure if you ask me, it’s important information.”

“So you’ll be a doctor?”

“If by some miracle my dissertation goes through the jury,” you pointed out. “How about you? How’s your roommate situation with Wade going?”

He only grumbled something under his breath and you bit back a smile, then topped his drink.

“Thanks sweetheart.”

If there was one thing you hated the idea of more than dying was proving Freud right but it looked like you were going two for two tonight.

“So uh,” you said, trying to ignore the goosebumps rising on your arms because of his deep voice. “Hey, at least you have the place to yourself sometimes, no? When Wade is with Vanessa? Should give you some time to…bring someone home.”

And I volunteer as tribute.

He raised his brows, his unwavering gaze pinning you to your spot and you cleared your throat.

“Or—or someones,” you stammered. “Sky is the limit if you’re into that sort of thing. Now that it came up by the way, are…are you?”

“Am I bringing people home?” he asked as if he wanted to make sure that was what you were asking and you shrugged your shoulders, your face on fire.

“I’m just asking because, you know,” you began the sentence without having a clue on how you would finish it as usual. “I’m great at giving relationship advice, so if you were in a relationship I could be your own personal relationship coach.”

He pulled his brows together in confusion and you reached out to get the bowl full of peanut shells from his right just so that you could keep yourself busy, then turned the bowl over the garbage can.

“I’m not,” he said and you swallowed thickly.

“Who has the time for that these days, am I right?”

“Do you have—”

“Yes I have the time!” you cut him off, nodding your head in enthusiasm, your heart beating in your ears but he had already finished his sentence;

“…ice?”

You hoped to God tonight was the night you’d die because if that mobster in the corner didn’t shoot you, you were going to have to ask Wade to do it just to save you from this embarrassment.

“Oh,” you said after a beat as he stared at you. “Yeah—yeah I have ice, sorry.”

You rushed to get some ice and put it into his whiskey, biting inside your cheek and he cleared his throat.

“You don’t want to go out with me sweetheart.”

Well good news was that you had already made a fool of yourself so one could think the bar for your self-respect couldn’t get any lower, but boy oh boy you had already brought your metaphorical shovel.  

“I disagree,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I would very much love to if you were interested.”

“You think I’m not interested?”

“I feel like I’d have a better chance at proving you’re not interested with dates and references than my own thesis,” you pointed out. “And that’s saying something—”

“I am interested,” he cut you off, making your eyes widen and you gawked at him, frozen in your spot. “Trust me, that’s not the problem here.”

“Am I getting the I’m too dangerous for you speech?” you heard yourself ask through disbelief. “Because screw that speech. Honestly, the only thing I’m focused on in here is if you—fuck!”

He pulled his brows together. “If I—?”

“No no!” you said as you pointed at the back door where two men were dragging Wade through. “Wade!”

Logan cussed under his breath as he shot up from his stool.

“Don’t go anywhere, we’ll talk about this later,” he told you and made his way to the back door while you heaved a sigh, leaning back to the counter as he stepped outside and you caught the sight of him grabbing a man by the neck before the door slammed shut. You pressed a hand over your chest, then tilted your head back with a groan.

“Alright,” you muttered to yourself. “That was smooth.”

[limerlove]

❝ LONG NIGHT, LONG RIDE ❞ ✶ ABBY ANDERSON !

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, nsfw themes, country!abby, petname usage (sweetheart, darling), mechanical bullrider!abby, abby is a big ass flirt, kinda shy!reader, dub-con (alcohol involved). 

RAY RAMBLES ★ idk a random thought and i kinda ran with it. if you like, i have a part in mind with smut for my slutty friends. to be continued ...

you’ve never seen a woman move like she did. it wasn’t the first time you’d seen her there. nestled deep in the heart of texas, tattered-blue denim jeans hugging her thick thighs deliciously, white tank top accentuating her toned abdomen. worn-in brown boots on her feet, blonde hair as carefree as she appeared, hips in sync with the mechanic bull as her skillful hips ride as the operator strategically tries to rid her off of it. s’not an easy task by any means. 

she has the face you can’t quite seem to forget. you never really do. it’s become a ritual of yours. every friday night, you end up in this rundown bar, the only one in this nothing town. maybe it’s pathetic to pine over someone so clearly out of your league. but she’s easy on the eyes, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. surely, it wouldn’t hurt to just look. 

the girl of your dreams is riding the bull again, and looking goddamn hot doing it. possibly even hotter than this texas heat in the beginning of summer’s warmth. someone as muscular, toned, and broad as her shouldn’t be doing it so gracefully. it’s been a month of watching her. every friday night you nurse the ice bear, condensation dripping down to your fingertips, soaking your wrists as the liquid drips further. 

she’s making quite the show of it tonight. anderson, ever the performer. 

the only name you’ve heard being used, quite loose lips of the small town groupies. apparently, anderson, is the talk of the town and tonight the girls next to you at the bar are as chatty as ever. you only pick up remnants. bits and pieces of their drunken gossip. 

she broke up with her girlfriend. been two months actually according to nora. time to make a move. 

anderson wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole. 

whatever. i’m going to make sure she’s riding me tonight. you’ll see. 

you force yourself to disengage the eavesdropping and look away from the scene of her riding the bull. you’ve seen her do it so many times you know it’ll be over soon. it’s pathetic how you know that in the first place. 

you’ll leave soon, the commitment of work bright and early looks over your intoxicated brain. but then you hear loud boots stomping their way to you. looking over you notice it’s her and she makes conversation with the bartender as she sips on the chilled bottle of beer. 

“seen you here every friday for the best month, darling. do you like the show?” anderson chuckles as her body inches forward. her thumb picking at label on her beverage.

she’s noticed you before? 

“mhm, not sure. still trying to figure out if i do.” 

she nods smoothly, amping you nerves as she scoots the bar stool closer to yours, before taking a seat. meaty, strong, legs opened wide as they rest on each side, supporting the weight of her built frame.

“hm.” she hums, watching as you take another swing of your beer. 

she opens her mouth, more of her southern drawl seeping out but the girls from before manage to squeeze through the small space between you and the mysteriously hot woman who occupies your brain. 

“anderson, you look really good tonight.” the girl from before resurfaces, her sultry tone sharp enough to cut through the entire room, her hands making connection with her toned, freckled bicep descending down her forearm. you make yourself scarce to the bathroom, not enjoying the sudden storm in your stomach. 

it’s just there. 

jealousy storming it before you could even stop it. it’s clear anderson is more than sought after. she’s everyone’s dream, yourself included. you’ve had one short lived conversation. maybe she’s an asshole, a cheater, an ego the size of this massive state.

it’s what you told yourself as you washed your hands in the washroom. it’s the only thing you could tell yourself. the hint of rejection was even more unsettling so you decided to pay your tab and get the hell out of here. 

the vibrator tucked in your nightstand drawer had never done you wrong. why break a good thing? right? god, there’s never been a more pathetic moment on earth. you and your wand against the world of scorned loneliness. but then she’s in there with you. you’re frozen, unable to move as walks in. confidently, resting her broad back against the wooden door. the single use bathroom does not give you much room to breathe. 

anderson crosses her arms, muscles flexing as her arms visibly look bigger, as if they weren’t already delicious enough. she looks down as you’re slightly bent over the short sink, suddenly taking interest in your ass. 

well, it seems sudden to you. 

“you really didn’t have to run off.” she tuts, as you find her frame in the mirror. you swear she bucks her hips slightly but you must be imagining it. taking note of her golden locks flowing past her sculpted shoulders, brown stetson hat concealing her eyes from you, for the most part.

“i don’t know. you seem pretty preoccupied. didn’t wanna put a damper on your night.” once you were done rinsing your hands, you turned around, arms placed at your side. every single bone of your body incredibly nervous to speak with her. especially to be alone together.

“besides, it seems like you have a lot of fans mesmerized by you, anderson. everyone seems to talk about you.” 

“maybe? but i wanna talk to you, darling.” pushing off the door, anderson inches herself closer towards you.

“would this be something you want? my attention?” raising her head, tilting it to the side as she awaits your response. 

“you’re… forward.” you grasp at straws, trying to find the right words but nothing seems right. 

“jus’ know what i want when i see it.” anderson admits. you’re not sure what to think. the sinfully hot woman, everyone’s vying for her attention, and she’s decided to extend her interest in you. why? you’re not sure. “what?” 

“i-i just don’t know what to say to you, anderson.” she smirks, the sly smile of hers on display. “anderson, huh?” 

“isn’t that your name?” you perch yourself onto the sink. clearly, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. “sort of. it’s what everyone here knows at least. but you should call me by my name. my real one.” 

you’re honored with a privilege, a simple one, just for you. it’s intoxicating how special she can make you feel. your heart beating out of your chest the more she takes. affecting all and any rational thought occupying your brain. it’s just her. 

“abigail, but you can call me abby. abs.” she takes a few steps forward inching closer to the space between your open thighs.

“whatever you want, really. as long as these pretty lips are talking to me. hm? how does that sound to you?” 

you visibly gulp as  she inches closer and closer…

“uh, um, abigail’s pretty.” she’s got you now. utterly fucking trapped. 

abby chuckles. if she wasn’t this hot, it would be downright condescending. “mmm, think i’m pretty, sweetheart?” she’s so sure of what she wants, eyes set on you and it’s s’much to handle. the trap’s been set and you’re falling into her southern charm far easier than you would have if it were anyone else.

you barely nod your head, shyly biting your lip. finally, giving her something to work with. abby’s thinking about devouring you whole, eating you right up, bringing you home with her, pulling you into her bedroom, tearing you apart in every way she knows how. 

the light shining in your eyes makes her think you’d let her. 

“y-yeah, i do.” abby makes home between your thighs, standing at her full height, stammering six feet tall. firmly grabbing your legs before wrapping them around her torso. “bet you do, sweetheart. i’m sure you think about all sorts of things, especially about me.” 

your breath hitches as abby removes her hat, shaking her blonde hair to the side, sunkissed skin even more exquisite up close. freckled cheeks, the adorable bump in her nose, her nipples hard and now poking through the tank top, chest nearly against yours as she wedges herself impossibly close to you. perfectly shaped lips moving closer to yours. 

“why don’t you tell me what you think about when i’m riding the bull? when my hips roll, my head tossed back, and my back arched. be a sweetheart and tell me, darling.” her hat is placed in free hand while the other softly grips your chin, thumb smoothing over the soft skin.

“be real good and tell me.” 

you pause for a moment, doing your best not to fumble over your words, just this once. 

“most of the time, i can’t stop looking at your hips. how in control you look, so confident and my mind just…drifts.” you linger, eyes meeting her baby blues and fuck. fuck. fuck. 

you’ve never been so doomed to fall. 

“darling, don’t leave me hanging. what does it drift to?” abby asks, dipping her lips to your neck, ghosting over the access point, until she lightly kisses at your collarbones. so light, it makes you question if this is just some cruel, fever dream you’ll wake up from.

“shit.” abby takes it as a sign to continue her lips dip into your chest, hardly divulging to where you need her, before she’s ascending back up to your neck. “you gonna be good for me?” she whispers in your ear, her breath calm and even. 

you nod and abby bites your ear playfully as you moan, pulling her in by your legs. “hm, if i keep whispering pretty little things in your ear? can you handle me, sweetheart?” her southern accent further cementing you in her honey grip. 

“maybe? i don’t know. fuck, yes?” abby giggles, her voice dropping an octave as she goes in for the kill. “oh sweetheart. i might just kill this pussy of yours with what i have to say next.” on instinct, your hands tangle themselves into the root of her blonde hair, tugging her closer to you. wanting to suffocate her in your scent, but she’s already halfway there. 

“abigail, just say it. please?” she nods, loving how you’re already using your manners. fuck, so good for her already, not even having to ask twice. abby feels the heartbeat of her clit stirring in her pants as it chases the sound of your voice. she’s so feral, already. yeah, you may feel like a goner but if only you knew she is by far so much worse. 

“i noticed you the first night. those pretty fucking eyes staring at me. wouldn’t fucking leave me for anything, even when the bartender was trying to get your attention. those bambi eyes on me, bright eyed and practically begging for me….” abby’s purposely whines in your ear, causing you to grind into her. she can’t stop the chuckle leaving her lips. 

“you’re being mean. just tell me.” abby pauses as she grins like the cheshire cat. you tug her hair back tightly, the moan she emits is loud. her eyes nearly roll back into her head, but she’s able to stop it before it goes too far. before you push her to the subspace she can so easily get to when push comes to shove. for now, she’ll bask in the dominance. 

all of it so new, so fresh. “oh, i’m being mean?” abby threatens cockily. “i have  been awfully mean, huh? letting those pretty girls flirt with me right in front of you.” she kisses lightly underneath your ear before continuing.

“been thinking about you the last couple of weeks when i’m riding.” abby teases.

“you do?” your jaw slacks, your grip on abby’s head releases. “sure have, darling. m’thinking about how you want to ride me instead. pretty thighs rubbing together when you’d look my way.” abby’s hand drops to your thigh, rubbing your inner thighs with her thumb. basking in how you open them even wider, unprompted. just a small mention and you’re right back to her riding the bull. whimpered out for her, needing her to do anything, something. 

“why don’t we get out of here and you can come home with me?” she pleads, pressing a kiss to your temple. sweet and sultry with half-lidded eyes looking at you. your eyes looking at the hat in her hands. 

you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” shyly, scratching the nape of your neck. 

“are you going to put your hat back on?” 

“mhm, not sure.” abby bites the inside of her cheek, anxious as the next thought plagues her mind. you won’t know what a big deal it is, but everyone in the bar will know. she will know, but you won’t and somehow it makes it easier when the request flies off her lips. 

“you could wear it? if you want, sweetheart.” abby asks sweetly. you’re quiet for a moment, pondering. “who knows. might be too big or too small.” you shrug your shoulders as if you’re not interested. 

“well, why don’t we try then, sweetheart? won’t know until you do.” she maneuvers the white cowboy hat, placing it carefully in your head. 

you smile happily at her. “look! a perfect fit.” 

abby knows there’s not a damn soul who looks better than you. “yeah, sure is perfect.”

DAILY CLICK + DONT BUY TLOU + DONATE

[funnyjb]

Moon and back

——————-

Early morning light shined into your shared bedroom with Joe. You were comfortable and at ease. Joe was holding you close. His morning bed head still in tact and only thing on was his sweatpants.

The sound of coo’s from the baby monitor woke you both up. Your daughter Amelia was just waking up. Amelia Parker Burrow was born just in late May. The ray of sunshine that brightened up both of your lives.

You both turned

“I’ll get her.”- joe

“You sure?”- you

“Yeah, get some more rest”- joe

You nodded

It was only 6:00am

Joe walked into Amelia’s room. The door cracked open. The room was still dark but Joe could make up the crib and the changing table.

“Hi, baby.”- joe

Joe picked her up and rested her in his arms.

“Shh, it’s ok.”- joe

All of a sudden Amelia started crying. Tears filled her little eyes. The sound waking you up again.

You could always tell what the cry’s meant. A hungry cry, a tired cry, or angry cry. This sounded like a hungry cry.

Joe could tell it was hungry cry to from your tricks and tips you taught him these past few months.

He brought Amelia to you. He didn’t want to, he wanted you to sleep in.

“Hey, sorry but i think she’s hungry.”- joe

“Yeah, it’s ok.”- you held out your hands

He handed your daughter to you.

You pulled down your top and started to feed.

Joe came into bed again and sat right next to you. You rested your head on his shoulder.

——————————

Later in the day you decided to surprise Joe at practice with Amelia. You changed into your black romper and white button up as a coverup. You put Amelia in a cute Burrow onesie then you two were off.

The sub was shining bright and Joe looked great. He had is bengals cap on and was doing some drills.

He spotted you two after practice.

“Babe? What are you doing here?”- joe smiled

“We decided to surprise you! Also needed to get out of the house.”- you laugh

You hand Amelia to Joe.

“Hi, baby.”- joe

Joe held her up to his chest. Some people were watching but really just smiling and making comments about the cute moment. You didn’t mind.

You guys decided to take a family picture that was definitely getting framed.

Joe hit the showers then was going to let you both at home since you had two separate cars

At home Joe sat next to you on the couch while Amelia was down for a nap.

“I really enjoyed having you guys there today. Thank you for coming. I know it’s a lot with the baby.”- joe

“Always. I’ll do anything to support you. Amelia and I are so proud of you.”- you kiss his forehead

You guys end up napping and cuddling

————————-

“Shhhh, calm down baby, it’s ok.”- you rocked Amelia who was crying

Amelia hasn’t stopped crying.

Joe was out at dinner with friends. He insisted on staying to help but you figured he needed a night off.

Your tears started to flow down your cheeks. The exhaustion from the week started to kick in. The waking up early, running around every second, taking care of your baby. It was hard.

As york tears flowed you decided to sing a lullaby to help calm Amelia.

“Goodnight, sweetheart

Well, it's time to go

Goodnight, sweetheart

Well, it's time to go”

Amelia’s cry became faint. The sounds of loud baby cry’s stopped. The house was quiet. The room was quiet and still.

You slowly got up and put her in the crib.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”- you

You quietly left the room.

You decided to head downstairs and tackle the kitchen as quietly as you could. You were tired but didn’t want to do it in the morning

As you were cleaning your mind kept going to that moment in Amelia’s room. How you couldn’t keep it together. Both of you were crying. Even though you pushed Joe to go tonight, you’ve been feeling lonely and alone in your own feelings. Tears started to streaming again.

Just then the door opened.

Joe was home.

“Babe?”- joe

“In here!”- you quickly wipe your tears

You can here is footsteps get closer.

“Hey!”- joe

You try not to look his way so he doesn’t see your eyes.

“Hi! How was dinner?”- you say putting a plate away in the dishwasher

Joe looks at you weird knowing something is off.

“It was..good. Nice to catch up. You ok?”- joe says coming closer

“Yeah,yeah, I’m good”- you

“Y/n, look at me, please.”- joe says softly

You hesitate for a minute

Then you turn

Your eyes are still red but not as bright

“Baby, what’s wrong?”- joe

Just as those words come out of his mouth your tears and sobs start to pour out.

He wraps his arms around you

“Shh, it’s ok. I’m right here.”- joe

He lefts you cry for a few moments.

“Care to tell me what’s bothering you, sweetheart?”- joe

“I..I just don’t know if I can do it.”- you

“Do what?”- joe

“Be a mom. I’m so tired and she kept crying non stop for a whole hour I didn’t know what to do. She’s been getting up early in the morning to be fed and late a night. I’m exhausted. People keep asking me how I’m doing and I don’t know what to say. It’s all too much. And I miss you.”- you

“Baby, I’m so so sorry. You shouldn’t have to feel this way. But its a part of it. And I’m right here.”- joe

“I know, but the season is coming up and I feel like I never really see you. And I’m sorry I probably am such a dick for bringing this on you.”- you

“Y/n, no, you aren’t. It’s ok and I’m glad you’re speaking to me about this. I’m proud of you always. I know it’s hard with the season coming up and I’m really sorry I’ve been away. I talked to coach today and tried to see if I could do some stuff from home like meetings and stuff so I can help you. I’m really sorry you’ve been dealing with this y/n. But you’re an amazing mom. Your wonderful at it. Our daughter is so lucky she gets you as her mama and I’m so lucky I get to call you my wife. I’m always here. Always.”- joe

You hug him again

“Thank you, Joe. I love you so much. More than you know.”- You

“Always. I love you to the moon and back.”- Joe

——-

The end!

I know you guys like mama so I decided to right something like it!

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

He's My Man (Part 1)

Summary: The reader receives an anonymous text from a new client needing an off the books patch job. However he's annoyingly good looking and the last thing you need is some ex-special ops guy hanging around. Unfortunately for you, Russell Shaw isn't the kind of guy to walk away when he knows something's wrong...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 2,000ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury

A/N: Contains minor spoilers for Tracker 1x12. Please enjoy the start of this new series! I'm not sure how long it will go but thanks for coming on this ride with me!

__________

Your ears perked up on Saturday morning when your phone buzzed on the coffee table before you. Not your everyday one but your one for work. You swiped it open, pursing your lips when you saw it was from an unknown number.

Need a patch job on a quilt. Doug recommended you as a good seamstress in the area.

Alright, well at least this guy knew one of your clients. Doug wasn’t a regular but you’d seen him once or twice over the years which meant the person on the other end wasn’t a cop most likely.

I can fit you in. More complicated the patch, the more it’ll cost.

Not an issue.

You hummed and stood up, grabbing your coffee mug along the way.

129 Edwards Ave in twenty minutes. Use the red back door.

You took a long sip and went over to the kitchen, tossing the rest down the sink, leaving the mug to be cleaned later. 

You just hoped this job wasn’t as bad as the last one.

Eighteen minutes later you heard the back door open and then silence, a moment’s hesitation as your new client entered what looked like a storage area. You flipped a light switch, illuminating the small enter sign over the doorway to the room you were prepping in. A few moments later there were heavy boots against the cement ground as he entered, turning to tile, your head lifting. 

A man in his forties, a quite handsome one at that, gave the small operating room a cursory glance before settling on you, determining you were the only one there. Meanwhile your gaze shot to his injured left arm, a gunshot from the looks of it. You only spotted one bloody bullet hole and figured that was the worst of it from the way he cradled his forearm.

“You the seamstress?” he asked quietly, scanning the counter full of medical equipment and metal table in the center of the room. 

“Take a seat,” you said, patting the table. You went to a sink and washed up, making sure to keep him in view at all times. He winced and struggled to get the coat off, finally managing and revealing a quick patch job had been done. After drying your hands, you snapped on some gloves, the man’s coat and overshirt now on the table behind him.

“Russell Shaw by the way,” he said.

“Y/N,” you said, carefully taking his forearm in one hand, the top of his muscular bicep in the other. You turned his arm slightly, Russell wincing again. “Looks like a through and through. We’ll do a quick x-ray to make sure there’s no shrapnel and then we’ll get you stitched up and I’ll send you home with some supplies and instructions to care for it. This your only injury?”

“Yeah. Doug said you were good.”

“I am,” you said, offering him a brief smile, he returned. “Do you have any PTSD? Going to come at me if I I need to use a scalpel?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I’m good with all that.”

You hummed, guiding him to lay back. Three minutes later you were pushing your x-ray machine aside and taking the lead vest away, Russell sitting upright. 

“Can I ask a question?” 

“You can ask, don’t mean I’ll answer, sweetie,” you said back, hanging up the vest and going to your laptop on the counter.

“How does one get into this line of work?” he asked.

“Asks the man that’s ex-special ops and does private contract gigs, not to mention killed probably three people minimum tonight.” You glanced over to him, Russell tilting his head. “I know who Doug is and what he does. Makes sense you do it too. You have blood under your fingernails and given the splatter patterns on your jeans, you had multiple different angled shots so multiple bodies you hit.”

“...And you don’t report that sort of thing?” he asked cautiously. You determined his x-ray looked good and washed up again, putting on more new gloves. By the time you were standing before him again, he looked nervous.

“On occasion. But only the monsters. You, you don’t strike me as a monster, Russell,” you said, wiping some antiseptic over his entry and exit wounds. He flinched but only slightly at the quick burn. A moment later you were giving him something to numb the area.

“Someone took Doug. Someone bad. They would have come back if I hadn’t done what needed to be done.” You wiped sterile gauze over his wound and then flushed it, Russell watching your graceful movements with interest.

“Like I said, not a monster.” You hummed as you worked, Russell fixated on you carefully cleaning and then pulling the skin back together, tying it up neatly. You wiped away the evidence of his blood and wrapped his bicep in thick gauze, taping it down so he could still get movement without worrying about it coming off.

You chucked your gloves in the trash and nodded back to the door behind you.

“There’s a shower in there and some brushes. Turn it on low, scrub yourself clean, under your nails too. Use the blue soap. When you’re done, throw everything away in the bin, including your bloody clothes. You leave your boots, anything you want to keep out here with me. There’s men’s sweats and some shirts on the shelf. By the time you’re done, your boots and other items will have no trace of wherever you’ve been. Got it?”

“I do like a woman that takes charge.” He smirked, sliding off the table and dropping slowly to kneel to unlace his shoes, still looking up at you. “Full service deal you got going here.”

“Yes it is and here’s a friendly reminder for my new client. You come anywhere near me with your dick out, I’ll make you regret being alive. Understand, sweetie?” you said, patting his cheek. “Off you go.”

“God damn, I love you,” he muttered under his breath. You rolled your eyes but smirked when your back was to him. Ten minutes later the room was clean and Russell exited the bathroom with damp, slicked back hair wearing a plain white t-shirt, black hanes sweat pants and white socks. You nodded to where his shoes sat on the end of the counter, Russell taking a seat in the chair nearby as he slipped them on.

After he checked he had his phone, keys and wallet, he raised himself to his feet, pulling out his wallet. 

“What do I owe you?”

“A thousand.” To your surprise, he didn’t flinch at that number. But like most of your clients, he didn’t have the cash on him, at least not that much. Russell smirked as he glanced back in the bathroom.

“Smart woman. You keep the evidence as ransom until your clients pay up. You won’t destroy that until after I pay, will you.” 

“Not until we get to know each other better do I do that sort of thing without payment. Seeing as you’re new and a friend of Doug’s, I’ll give you to the end of next week to pull it together. I offer payment plan options and other alternative forms of care if shit ever really hit the fan for you.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, putting down five hundred dollar bills. “I can bring the other half back here later today. Just need to run to an ATM.”

“Text me when you got the rest. I’ll send you a place to meet,” you said, nodding towards the door. He gave you a small salute and shook his head with a smile. 

Forty minutes later you were sitting at a table in the cafe three blocks over, happily sipping on your coffee while working your way through a cheese danish. You spotted Russell when he came in. He gave you a quick, adorably awkward wave and ordered himself a drink. A few minutes later he was sitting down across from you, a small cup and what appeared to be a banana muffin in hand.

“You’re a coffee snob aren’t you. This place is pricey,” he teased, his brow furrowing when he had a drink from his styrofoam cup. “Shit. That’s fucking good.”

“Beats whatever motel crap I’m sure you’re used to,” you said, his gaze hardening for a split second. “Sorry. I always tail my first time clients to make sure they aren’t…you know who. You know the Elkwood Lodge on route 8 is cleaner and cheaper than what you’re paying for now.”

“How would you know that?” he asked. You shrugged and simply grinned, taking another bite of danish. He licked his lips, pointing at the yet to be touched danish beside you. “Was that one for me?”

“God no. I fucking love danishes and these are incredible,” you said, finishing off the first and biting into the other.

“You are something else,” he said, smirking when he slid a white envelope across the table. You tucked it into your jacket pocket, Russell picking at his own muffin. “You ain’t going to check it’s all there?”

“You’re a smart man, Russell. I think you know not to screw me over.” He looked you up and down, earning a pointed response. “Keep that gutter mind to yourself.”

“If I’m in the gutter, you’re right there with me,” he said, absently rubbing his injured arm. “And uh, if it gets infected or I think it is, I should reach out?”

“Absolutely. That ain’t a normal injury you’re used to. Don’t play tough guy, tough guy.” He nodded, his body twisting ever so slightly towards a standing position. “Nope. Stay for at least five minutes, then you can go.”

“You really like telling me what to do, don’t you,” he grinned. 

“Russell.” Hss grin was wide before he took a long drag of coffee, humming as it went down. 

“What if I want to stay more than five minutes?” You paused mid-chew of your danish. “Come on, one conversation won’t kill you.”

“I don’t get involved with clients.”

“Alright. I respect that but this ain’t my end goal. I’m going to have a normal life someday. I make a pretty mean homebrew. Going to get some land, open up a brewery, have some food, make it a little family place everybody can enjoy. So that’s my goal. I sure as hell know working as a seamstress ain’t your end goal either. So again, what’s the harm in one conversation?”

You bit your bottom lip, Russell’s expression changing, ever so slightly. 

“Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered. “What-“

“Shut up,” you mumbled. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your fucking face did. You don’t want to be a seamstress, do you? Can you not get out of your line of work?” You glanced out the window, even the wonderful flavors of the pastry doing nothing to help the unease in your gut. “I can help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” you snapped. You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Sorry. I…I’m just crabby because I didn’t have my morning coffee until just now.”

“Nice try.” You glared at him, his green eyes remarkably gentle. “I don’t leave my friends behind. Now either you tell me what’s going on or I’m going to poke around myself and I guarantee that’s going to be a lot more dangerous and you’ll just have to patch me up even more. What do you say?”

You stared at him and stared at him and stared at him for what felt like forever. Then you took out the envelope and handed it back to him, along with the five hundred in your purse. 

“Go buy me two more cheese danishes and a large caramel frappe to go. Then take me to your motel room. This is a long fucking story.”

__________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[glassrowboat]

Letters For You

Valentine’s Day letters from Anaxa, Aventurine, Gallagher, Jing Yuan, Phainon, Ratio, Reca, Sampo, Sunday

Wrote these for my online friends, so I hope you all have a lovely Valentine’s. Love you all, xoxo

Anaxa

My fellow scholar,

I won't lie and pretend as if I wouldn't rather be spending my time doing something actually worthwhile like studying, but whenever I finally bring myself to put pen to paper in my hectic schedule I find myself unable to use my quill for its intended purpose. I bought it for note taking and truly wished to use it for that purpose, only for me to find myself unable to focus on the words before me as I am stuck thinking of you.

You see, these were originally meant to be notes, so excuse the scribbling at the top. It's all mindless drivel and half-baked theories I'm certain you're already planning to jump at. Your curious mind never rests, just like mine. Which is why I'm so loath to admit that even us scholars need a break.

With that in mind, I ask that you find me at our usual spot to enjoy the current festivities. I'm sure once we're done, it will leave us both refreshed and ready to return to work.

In best regards,

Anaxagoras

Aventurine

Dearest friend,

I already know what you're going to say about the gifts I have left for you. “It's too much or you should save your money on something else, Aven.” To the point I can almost hear the words ringing in my ear in that scolding tone of yours. It's just as bad as the higher ups scolding me for breaking the cornerstone and yet I can't help but want to spoil you.

But I'll be nice. Just this once.

Instead of dinner at another fancy restaurant you'll roll your eyes at, let's just get takeout from your favorite place and we can play dress up with all the clothes I got us. And yes some are for me, too. I'm sure if you dig around a bit you'll find a particular lacy item you and I can both agree has its merits.

Until tonight,

Aventurine

P.S. No overtime. I promise.

Gallagher

Babe,

I'm sure you've already figured out the bag of candy is for you. I even wrapped it up with a neat bow and everything for ya, so I hope you like it. If you want, we can even try making a drink out of a few of them like we did with the cotton candy vodka. Remember that? It was interesting, that's for sure.

We can even have what's left after dinner tonight. I'm cooking. Just for you, too. I was thinking of Clockie Pizza with all those toppings you like, and we could have it at the lounge? I'm sure Dreamjolt Hostelry will have open seats even on Valentine’s Day, knowing how dead the place usually is. I'll even dress up if you want me to. Though it might just be best to put myself in your or Sioban care to choose an outfit. Either way, I'm trusting you here, so don't let me down.

Your man,

Gallagher

Jing Yuan

My darling,

It's a beautiful day out, don't you think? The sky is clear and bright blue, the wind is just right, and the sun as artificial as it might be is perfect for dozing under its shining rays. I even found a record to play a song I remember from days long past. The only thing missing on this perfect day is you. And my work to be done, too.

I take it you're wrapped in endless stacks of paperwork just as I am, aren't you? Even after all the time, they managed to keep you this week. I'm merely lucky I'll have you all to myself once the day ends. The weekend will be ours to enjoy the garden, eat good food, play with our adorable little lion, and each other.

While we may not get Valentine’s Day together between your work and mine, I am happy to make sure we still get to enjoy being together. Besides, choosing only one day to love you when I would rather do so every day for every year you're willing to share with me is far more appealing than showing you appreciation only on special occasions.

Yours,

Jing Yuan

Phainon

My favorite shopkeeper,

Time really does flash by in an instant, huh? It feels like only yesterday that I came to The Holy City with the weight of the prophecy, both bearing a heavy weight on and lifting my shoulders all at once. Back then, I was ready to face the world as a Chrysos Heir alongside the others of golden blood without daring to think anything could stop me. I was going to be the one who takes Nikador's Coreflame, and I'll be the demigod of Strife. It will be a title I wear with honor.

And that is still my intention, mind you, but I've found something else that fills me with just as much conviction as being a hero to the masses. Do I even have to say what it is? It's you.

Ever since we first ran into each other at your shop and you were giving me a side eye (yes, I saw that) at all the questions I was asking about your collection of antiques I knew I would be willing to take a moment to step away from the duty I have sworn to uphold to simply be with you.

So I guess what I'm asking is: will you be my valentine?

Your hero,

Phainon

Ratio

My dear,

Today has already been full of one headache after the next from students deeming fit to load my desk with gifts to dealing with Aventurine texting me about how many roses is “too much.” At this point, all I want to do is go home and fall into your embrace.

Still, I have tests to grade. And from what I've seen of them, it's looking like some of them have finally learned how to pick up a thing or two after I started to use the method you suggested last time. As loath as I am to admit, I never would have thought to have my student role play as great mathematicians from the past to keep them engaged. It worked.

You truly astound me. Always finding new ways to show that creative thinking plays a part in being knowledgeable as well. You put the term genius to shame, my dear.

Sincerely,

Veritas Ratio

Reca

My love interest,

I have met countless actresses and actors who have been praised as if they were Aeons themselves. Looks, skills, the way the camera is naturally drawn to them, why you could name it all! Yet they all pale in comparison to you, my snookums.

No shot is truly complete without your radiance, without your smile, or without just the thought of you lingering in the back of my mind and changing how I see each scene laid out before me. You have changed how I view romance, entirely flipping the genre on its head for me to make something entirely new and unique. You inspired me in a way I never would have thought possible despite all the stories of star-crossed lovers I know. You have simply made me, for lack of a better word, more.

The only thing I could possibly regret about you is not meeting you sooner.

So allow me to make up for all the time we have had apart, my honey bee, by coming to a play with me as my valentine.

Your charming director,

Reca

P.S. I have entrusted the Assistant Director to be in your care today while I am away. She shall take care of you in my stead while I am away, my valentine.

Sampo

Boss,

It's me, your good old buddy, your pal, your bestest guy, Sampo! Now, now, before you go and throw this letter in the trash or worse yet, set my poor heartfelt words on fire, hear me out. I only have the purest intentions for you today, and that is on my honest word as a businessman.

It is Valentine’s Day, after all, and I can't have such a profitable holiday be soured for my favorite customer. That would just hurt my coin purse. So to ensure that doesn't come to pass, I took it upon myself to give you a gift as a show of gratitude for all you've done for me these past few years.

I'm sure you've noticed them by now.

Now, I hope you like the roses I left for you. They have a bit of an extra boom to them if you know what I mean. Just not the bomb kind. Though you do always manage to blow my heart away so who knows, maybe it is.

Your number one guy,

Sampo

P.S. Okay you can light the letter on fire now just know that if you do I'll be left with nothing to do but drink at the bar until I'm crying my eyes out all by my lonesome. Orrrrr…you could join me. I would never complain about getting some time in your delightful company.

Sunday

My dove,

This is my first Valentine’s Day away from Penacony, let alone on the Astral Express with a lover I can call my own.

I find myself still adjusting to the sudden change. There's no one watching my every move and expecting utter perfection from me now but me. I still find myself checking my clothes, assuring my feathers are neat, and shining my halo to the point that it shines in the light of the stars surrounding us. They remind me of just how vast this galaxy truly is. How my past choices were a flicker of a flame to everyone else, but to me, it was my last ditch effort at saving a dying light.

Everything is different now.

I find myself mourning.

Only for you to walk in the room and wash each thought away like the oncoming tide to a cluttered shore just with your gaze and a twitch of your lips. It's like I'm hit with a revelation again: that things do in fact get better.

So please, keep smiling as you always do, my valentine.

All the best,

Sunday

[naffeclipse]

Dance, Detective, Dance

Detective!Reader x Police Chief!Eclipse

Commission Info

Who's ready for some dancing with Police Chief!Eclipse? I had a delightful time writing this darling little fic which was requested by Anonymous. The detective reader must navigate a situation they truly do not want to be in and are ultimately rescued by a very dashing Eclipse. Now, time to hit the dance floor.

———

This is not where you’re meant to be.

The candlelight twinkle of the capitol building’s chandeliers cast the ballroom floor in gentle, romantic lightning. The marble columns of the great architecture build a grandness to the politics and party tonight. Men, women, human and animatronic alike, flutter around the space in bird-like trillings of socialization. The suits are finely pressed and the gowns are exuberant and shimmering. The large, photo-ready smiles mean nothing to you. Though fellow officers mingle among public workers and rich city members, you stand deliberately away from the conversations in a shady nook against the wall.

You must remind yourself to unfurrow your brow lest you stand with a perpetual scowl on your face for the rest of the night. This should not be mandated as part of your job—a charity ball, put on by your police precinct no less. Your time is better spent pooling over castfiles and running down streets to locate criminals. 

You tug at the collar of your formal attire, dark and fitted for a black-tie event. The weight of your gun rests heavily on your hip, hidden beneath your clothes. You wish you could stroke it, hold it in your hands, and count the rounds. The number of bullets inside the clip is branded in your mind, but the routine is grounding. But, your hands lie empty and repeatedly clench.

The night has worn on. This has been your service for the evening. You can excuse yourself on the basis that you’re needed back at your desk to study the recent string of crimes the Celestial Gang conducted. Surely that’s better spent time than standing here, stuck in fancy clothes that do little to make you more approachable.

The door. Your eyes have been returning to it constantly in the last hour. You could piece together what’s been eating away at you about the last rival gang slaying. What are the Celestial Gang building up to? Why suddenly strike so hard and fast at enemies? Do they simply have more confidence or is there something moving in the underground, dark and silent as a reaper?

This is enough. You’re going back to work. You step out of the shadow alcove you’ve lurked in all evening. Shoulders hunched as you begin to slip between oblivious attendees of the charity ball, you keep your eyes on the door. Single-mindedly, you weave towards the exit without seeing one face or hearing a voice in the crowd’s babble.

Someone emerges at the top of the grand staircase to the left of the doors. A familiar figure, tall and lithe and adorned in sun rays, descends the steps.

You stop in a crowd. Eyes drawn up, you stare at the police chief.

Eclipse. You’ve never seen him so sleek and sharp in a tuxedo of deep crimson. He fixes his bow tie with deft fingers, his eyes lifting to the crowd as if he’s lost something. His expression is intent, unsatisfied as he searches for the brief moment it takes for his gaze to swiftly land upon you.

Your lips part for an inexplicable reason. To call out to him. To explain why you’re making a beeline for the door. Say hello before you tell him goodbye. You have no answer. No words slip from your lips as he holds your stare as if you were the only person standing in the room.

His canary yellow optics brighten. His hands fall, softly opening in a gesture that seems to invite you closer. The police chief tilts his head. He finishes descending the steps as you push through the crowd—not to escape the ball but to meet him at the foot of the staircase.

He says your name softly in a manner you consider dangerous.

“Eclipse,” you greet, though it’s unnatural to say his name while the two of you are very much not alone. Yet, the crowd leaves you two in a pocket of privacy, unaware and unconcerned with a commanding officer and his subordinate.

Music pulls on strings, echoing in the air. Dancers begin to meet and pair behind you on the polished dance floor. Eclipse’s eyes briefly stray to the live music conducting the beginning of a couple’s dance, but his black pupils return to you. 

“Where are you going?” He reaches out and touches the sleeve of your clothes, smoothing down a non-existent wrinkle. 

“Out,” you answer, almost shoving it between your teeth. “I have work to do.”

His grin tightens like glass crunching in on itself. His fingertips slip further down your arm, trailing carefully over the sleeve that’s far too stiff for your liking to loosely encircle your wrist. He keeps you in place.

“You are expected to remain for the entirety of the charity ball; the same as every officer in attendance.” He speaks with the firmness of authority.

You narrow your eyes. He meets you unyieldingly. Your fist clenches just underneath his large, dark hand.

“I need to go over the case files from last week. I can’t stand here all night.” You look out over the band playing, accompanying dancers as they step and twirl. The bodies are organized yet chaotic in their colors and energies. A few people are laughing and others are stone-cold serious, focused on the rhythm while others kiss their partner.

“Detective, you can last one night at a social event.” His voice gravels low, almost touching a note of mirth.

His thumb slides down the bones of your hand, caressing your skin softly. A shiver subtly works its way up your spine. You turn back to face him. A stubborn argument crawls upon your lips but you stop short.

The police chief is strangely quiet. No, distracted. His eyes roam up and down your person. You stand frozen under his inspection. You dressed appropriately. He can’t fault you for improper attire but you can’t unravel the motive for his silence. His expression deepens into something soft. His optic lights dust you gently with his attention.

The strange exchange prompts your study of the police chief. He’s never been one to slack in his appearance nor fail to dress for the occasion. There is an undeniable charm to how the tuxedo looks on him. His fingertips are soft against the pulse on the inside of your wrist. The deep crimson color compliments his maroon and indigo sun rays.

A beat passes. Eclipse finds your eyes again.

“You look exquisite, sweetheart.” The note of affection in his tone sends a weakness into your knees.

“I’m not staying,” you say. Eclipse knows better than to charm you—though you must breathe to regain the feeling in your legs. “Even if I will miss seeing you look so sharp and spiffy.”

“Thank you,” his voice is low and gravelly. It echoes him finding you late at night, working at your desk, and walking you halfway to your home. A voice greeting you first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee. A question of concern, wondering if you’ve had enough sleep lately.

He holds out his other hand. The hold he has on your wrist is loose, soft and so unlike the coldness of handcuffs you’ve experienced before. You’re reminded again of his relation to the Celestial Gang mob bosses. Though what happened to separate Eclipse from his brothers and lead them down such different paths eludes you. You don’t pry. You won’t ask him to give it all up. 

He is not his brothers.

“Since you must stay here, we can make use of your presence.” His fingers unfurl. His dark digits and silicon palm wait before you. Like an offer of hope. Like an invitation to sneak away, just the two of you. His optics are lower in light. “Won’t you dance with me, Detective?”

You stare at the offering. A weak stirring begins within you. You tilt your head back to hold his gaze.

“I can’t dance.” You have the bluntness of a hammer. He knows this. He has always known this.

Eclipse’s grin remains unwavering. 

“I’ll lead.”

The music swells to a final jazzed ending. Couples drift apart and shuffle, and others stay perfectly together, waiting for the next song.

This is dangerous. Your hand falls into his. Him leading you deeper onto the dance floor to lose yourselves in the crowd and yet, find all the privacy. 

“Stand on my feet,” he says.

“You’ll regret this,” you warn him gently for his own sake. You fix your shoes upon him, scuffing up the shiny black polish but Eclipse doesn’t even glance down. His optics are firmly fastened on your gaze.

He chuckles low within his metaphorical throat. The first twirl begins, and you are perfectly safe upon his footwork. If anyone notices that you’re not truly putting in effort, allowing Eclipse to lead and put in all the moves, no one says anything. No one truly looks at you. All the politicians officers and city workers are engrossed in their dramas. You almost feel as if you were alone with Eclipse.

The music slips over you. The string cords and the waltz rhythm of the instruments tug you both along. Eclipse effortlessly weaves and carries you through the people, his attention tilted down to hold you in his vision while the room spins at the edges. You stare into his optics. Yellow with pinpricks of black. His smile is softening at the edges, his sharp teeth less visible in his focus.

“How do you know how to dance?” you ask, your interrogation voice coming through full force.

Eclipse tilts his head. A glint in his gaze gives way to something you can’t help but find unusual for the police chief.

“Personal interest and a need to fulfill certain duties a police chief must uphold such as appearing at public events. Especially for an animatronic,” his voice is gravelly.

To be charming and capable in every manner, to have to give even more than a human would in his position. Your hands clench his as he cuts through the space, leading your clasped hands like a wedge through the masses. Your grip tightens upon him. A burn sets in your chest, hot and spitting.

“You don’t have to dance,” you say, “Not with me.”

“I know,” he says softly. His voice lowers. “It’s a shame I don’t see you like this more often.”

You grimace as you glance down at yourself.  “These clothes are too stuffy. Who could chase a criminal down in this?”

Eclipse’s smile is poignant as he remarks, “It’s a very good thing you’re not on active duty tonight then.”

A sound between a huff and a growl escapes your mouth. Eclipse twirls you in a motion that leaves your head spinning slowly until you remember to focus on his eyes. His light is constant through the movement of his practiced swaying. 

You fight the urge to close your eyes and rest your head on his chest. His height gives you the perfect advantage to rest against him. You might be tired. The entire social event has sucked you dry and now you’re stuck in a slow whirl with the police chief. It’s difficult to remember that you wanted to leave only a few moments ago.

“Eclipse, I have to go,” you say over the ringing of the music. You’re getting distracted. You feel weak, held up by him so tenderly. His hand presses into the small of your back as he shifts you in his arms. 

“Would it kill you to spend an evening with me, looking so fine, and dancing?” His eyes burn low. You can’t look away.

“Maybe.” He doesn’t let you loose, so you must grit your teeth and admit, “I dance and wear nice clothes only for you.”

Eclipse grins. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, and his movements grow stronger. 

You cling tighter to him. Held flush against his chassis and fine suit, you watch the room twist upon itself. Eclipse draws you in and out, and he carefully stops to gently set you back on your feet. You immediately freeze like a wild animal set in a civilized place. Before you can succumb to your failure of not knowing a single dance, Eclipse takes your hand and lifts your arm above your head. Pressing your shoulder softly, he guides you into a soft spin upon your toes. You almost stumble. He holds you steady.

Then he takes you by the waist, holding you tight as he dips you low. You’re parallel to the floor, parallel to the police chief's smile as he hovers above you. You both hide below the crowd. The music swells.

His mouth has never been closer. You don’t realize how much your chest heaves, your heart alive in your ribcage as if amid a shoot-out, but it’s him. It’s only him. A smokey-amber scent fills your senses. He’s so close, and you drown in him.

Eclipse gently lowers himself closer. His optics flash between your eyes and your lips. You breathe out. Your eyelids flutter close—

And gunshots ring out.

Your eyes fly open and Eclipse’s optics flare. People scream. The stringed instruments cut off with abrupt notes souring the air. In a blur of a second, Eclipse pulls you back onto your feet. You whirl around, your hand upon your gun and freeing it from its concealed holster. 

The doors are wide open, held by men in dark attire as more shots ring out, thrumming out of Thompson machine guns. Gleeful criminals stare down at the panicking charity ball. You step forward. Eclipse's hand falls on your shoulder, pulling you back just as a politician in a suit dashes right in front of you. Eclipse’s grip tightens on your collarbone.

The gangsters glance around, lowering their weapons. Screams of panic ring out again but the gunfire stops—they have everyone’s attention.

“Eclipse,” you utter. Your finger is careful on the trigger. There are too many civilians. The boldness of crashing a party in the heart of the capital building leaves you seething.

“The Celestial Gang,” his voice lowers. He knows. You both know.

Henchmen step aside and hold open the doors to the dark, cool night. Dressed in fine suits, sharp and oily as finger-rubbed gold, the mob bosses of the most feared gang in the city step into the ballroom. They hold guns in their hands, gleaming cold and dark. Their eyes, gray and pale, and red and black, cut through the panicking people. 

Eclipse is half-frozen beside you. He steps forward, placing himself between you and the mob bosses. His brothers.

Your eyes dart around the room. The people have crowded against the far wall. Other officers have drawn their weapons. You glare down the animatronics bearing the themes not unlike the police chief, one of a pale yellow sun, and the other of a dark and silvery moon.

“Oh, Moon, I hope we’re not too late to the party,” Sun announces. His fingers stroke the trigger of his gun. His mouth curls sinisterly. “It’s so nice to see all the elites of this rotten city celebrating their charity.”

“Look, brother,” Moon tips his dark hat at you. “We’re just in time.”

You grit your teeth where you stand, and glare back.

“I think you’re right.” Sun laughs, cold and chilling against the marbled columns. His attention rests on you, hungry with avarice.

Moon lifts his gun into the air and smiles with sharp teeth. He announces, “We will be stealing the detective for a dance.”

[navybrat817]

Ficlet friday sounds cool!

Bucky Barnes (or any other character you feel like writing it) + gently kissing the forehead or top of the head

Have a wonderful weekend! 😊

I hope you enjoy this, Rai!

Weekend Plans

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: Over 440

Warnings: Semi-dramatic reader, but it's sweet

Collapsing on the couch, you let out an unrefined groan. Work was too much today; it had been all week. You were exhausted and content to stare into the abyss that was your ceiling and not move unless you absolutely had to.

“Should I even ask how your day was?” Bucky asked, hanging up his leather jacket.

Lifting your head to smile at your boyfriend, you nodded. “You should always ask how my day was.”

“How was your day?”

“Exhausting!” You heard him chuckle when you dramatically draped an arm over your eyes. He knew how you got when you were tired. Or hungry. “Please tell me we have no weekend plans.”

He winced, lifting up your legs so he could take a seat and keeping them in his lap. “I’m afraid we do,” he said, lightly rubbing one of your calves. You don’t recall making plans. “Not gonna ask about my day?” he teased.

“How was your day?” you mumbled.

“It was fine,” he answered. “But about those plans, we-”

The unrefined groan came out again.

He waited until you finished before he said, “We’re spending the weekend in.”

You removed your arm from your eyes. “Really?”

“Yep. Pizza tonight, blankets, binging whatever you want, staying in bed if that’s what you want,” he replied, giving you a lopsided smile. “We can do takeout tomorrow, too, so we won’t have to worry about cooking or cleaning dishes.”

“You make a good point about the dishes,” you smiled, your exhausted body and mind excited at the idea. “You sure that’s okay?” you asked. If he wanted to go out or do something, you’d suck it up. Sleep and relaxation could happen another day.

“You’ve had a long week. You’re worn out. I don’t want you to have any stress this weekend, okay?” Maneuvering so he was hovering over you, he gently kissed your forehead. “Besides, spending time with you alone is my favorite activity.”

Your heart felt so full. “You’re too good to me,” you whispered, pulling him on top of you. He was the best kind of blanket. “I think spending time along with you is my favorite activity, too.”

“You think?” he asked

“Yeah, I think,” you smiled, tucking some of his hair back. “But you have an entire weekend to convince me that it should be my number one favorite activity.”

Something mischievous sparkled in his blue eyes. “Well, I haven’t ordered the pizza yet, so I think I should start convincing you now,” he said, smothering your giggle when his lips met yours.

He convinced you, and you thanked him more than once for the wonderful weekend plans.

Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️

[mypoisonedvine]

𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 | raymond leon x reader

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 | since you've managed to outsmart (or, more accurately, seduce) your last four bodyguards, your wealthy father decides it's time to take a new approach: hire a timekeeper to watch you. after all, a man who dedicates his life to the law can withstand the wiles of a spoiled, lonely girl... right?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 | 4.7k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 | dubcon smut (rough sex, daddy kink, choking, slapping, creampie, breeding kink, glove kink, degradation), age gap (raymond is ????, reader is early 20s), slight dd/lg undertones, reader is a bit dark and manipulative hehe

You were rolling your stockings up your legs, one of the final stages in dressing for the party tonight, when your bedroom door opened.  “Hey, Ray,” you greeted with a purr as he stepped inside.

“Officer Leon,” he corrected you.

“Right,” you smiled, tilting your head.  “I’m sorry, sir.  I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

He scoffed, looking away, and you bit your lip— he was getting frustrated, in more than one sense of the word, and you were going to get what you wanted (like always). Boys are simply too easy.

This whole cat-and-mouse thing was starting to drive you a little crazy— none of the other bodyguards had taken this long to crack.  But really, the anticipation just added to the fun.

You stood up and turned your back to him, hoping he was eyeing the V-shaped portion of your back he could see with your gown still open.

“Will you help me zip up my dress?” you asked sweetly, making sure your hair was out of the way and looking back over your shoulder at him sweetly.  He sighed but stepped closer to you, but tugging on the zipper only lifted the bottom of your dress a bit— so he had to put his other hand on your hip to hold it in place as he pulled the zipper up, and you were thankful he couldn’t see your eyes flutter shut at the feeling.  His hands were so strong, you could feel it even through the gloves— and those fucking gloves, shiny black leather, he knew damn well what he was doing to you.  He just didn't seem to care.

"There," he said when he'd tugged it up to the top, stepping back, and you turned around to face him.  The dress was more elegant than you usually went for: you traded in your lace and bows in pastel shades for a dark purple silk that fell to the floor.

"What do you think?" you asked, biting your lip.  "Daddy picked it out for me."

"He has expensive taste," Raymond noticed, though he conspicuously didn't comment on your appearance.  He was very uptight, especially about professionalism.  You sort of got the feeling that if you could just pull one of his strings hard enough, he'd totally unravel: which is why you kept trying.

As he tried not to look at you, you gave him a slow look up and down.  "Is that what you're wearing tonight?" you asked incredulously, pointing to his high-neck black sweater and long leather trench.

"I'm working tonight, so yes," he answered.

Everyone thought Raymond stuck out like a sore thumb in your room— his angular, dark form against the soft baby pinks and white laces around your bed, a hardened cop amongst the porcelain baby dolls and fluffy stuffed animals and gold-edged tea sets: but you thought he fit right in, standing there amongst all your playthings.

~

The party was a bit dull— you were having more fun toying with your bodyguard than anything else.  “Try this,” you’d insist as you held up an hors d'oeuvre to feed him; he had to give in, he had to do whatever you said in front of all these people, but he glared at you as he leaned forward and took a bite out of the mini-tart.

You bragged to your father’s guests about your new bodyguard— or toy, as you called him more often.  “Daddy bought him for me,” you’d say, “and he has to do whatever I want.  Show them your gun, Mr. Leon!”

He only looked at you sternly again, and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s sort of grouchy,” you explained to the amused dinner attendees.  He didn’t react much, still standing there with his gloved hands held in front of him, but you saw a little tightness in his jaw.

Best of all, you flirted with as many suitors as you could get away with in a night, just to bother him.  The tricky thing about a world without aging is men who’ve been around quite some time were still just as eligible for your hand as men closer to your age— you wondered if it would bother him more knowing that one of your father’s wealthy friends who had been alive at least 80 years was doting on you.  Didn’t matter either way: you let them all stand a bit too close, put their hand on your lower back— you laughed too hard at their shitty jokes.  All to make Ray jealous, but when you glanced over your shoulder at him, you could never catch a reaction.

After the guests had left and the staff had begun cleaning, you went back to your room to change.  You’d coyly asked Raymond if he would watch over you during that, too, but he didn’t answer because he knew you were joking.  It’s not like you were ever really serious… but you did want him.  Not just for fun, and not just to prove to your father that there was no use hiring these bodyguards— he was fucking sexy, obviously.  Definitely your favorite so far, and exactly your type… for how much he thought you were trying to tease and tempt him, he was the one driving you a little crazy.

Still, you kept your cool as best you could; you needed to keep control over him, and thankfully with him working for you, that was pretty easy to exert.  (Well, technically he worked for your father, but it was close enough.)

“Oh, Mister Officer,” you called out to him through the door as you sat on your bed, hearing him step closer.

“Yes?” he asked, voice slightly muffled.

“I just need your help with something,” you explained, but he still hesitated.

“Are you decent?”

Damn, he wasn’t that gullible anymore.  “Enough,” you replied, and he sighed before opening your bedroom door.

You were in your bra and panties now— but with your heels and stockings still on, of course; he lost track of his step for a second when he saw you, then frowned at you.  “That’s not what I would consider decent,” he said.

“Well, I need your help and I wasn’t going to put on a turtleneck just for that,” you replied.  “You’ve seen me in my bikini by the pool, anyways…”

And you’d made him apply sunscreen on your back as well; you smirked to yourself at the memory.  “What do you need my help with?” he reminded you of the original topic.

“Well, these shoes are too small for me now,” you said, “I didn’t realize how much I’d grown since I wore them last…”

You hoped he’d find that a little intriguing, as someone who himself hadn’t grown in… you didn’t even know how long.  He obviously never talked about it— for all you knew he could have been alive a hundred years, though he certainly didn’t act like it.  

You lifted a stiletto-clad foot forward towards him.  “Now they’re stuck.  Will you help me take them off?”

He sighed that trademark, frustrated sigh of his, and you fought off a smile.  “You can’t do that yourself?” 

You shook your head.  “I’m not strong enough,” you explained with a shrug.

Clearly not buying it but in no position to accuse you of lying, he knelt down in front of you.  Taking the shoe in his hand, he looked at you with annoyance in his eyes as it slipped off easily.  

“You’re so strong,” you cooed, wiggling your toes inside the pantyhose, then putting your foot down to hold out the other in front of him.  “Now the other one,” you demanded.

He took the shoe off of you, tossing it aside, and you let your foot brush against his thigh as you lowered it down— just long enough to make it not quite believable as an accident.

“Now my stockings,” you continued, and he got up and started to walk away.

“You’ll have to do the rest on your own,” he insisted.

“But who’s gonna help me undress?” you pouted, and he stopped walking halfway to the door, dropping his shoulders a bit.

“I don’t know, how about you ask one of those boys that was sniffing around you all night?” he suggested, and you smiled proudly.  Oh, you noticed that?  

“I can’t,” you sighed, “you know Daddy doesn’t let me have any boys in my room— except you.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “because I’m the one who keeps the boys out of your room.”

“It’s no fair,” you whined.  “It’s so boring up here by myself…”

“Please,” he groaned, finally turning around, “with all these things you have?  You shouldn’t have any trouble being entertained.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, “I shouldn’t— but I do.  There’s only one thing I really wanna do right now…”

You started to slowly and delicately run your fingers up your legs, spreading them a bit.

“But I don’t wanna have to do it alone…” you continued, blinking up at him as you saw his nostril twitch— could this finally be the moment you caught him?

In an instant, he stormed towards you and grabbed you by the neck.  “So fucking spoiled,” he growled, his black leather gloves crinkling softly as you whimpered and held his wrist.  “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?  You think your father didn’t tell me what happened to the last four bodyguards?”

“I— I didn’t fuck them all,” you defended, voice a little thin from the pressure on your throat, “the third quit on his own—”

“Because he knew what would happen if he gave in to you,” Raymond sneered.  “And so do I.  You think I’ll give up on a job like this that easily?”

That was one thing that made Ray different than the others before— they were all professional bodyguards, used to working for the elite class.  Most of them probably already had plenty of time, or could at least keep getting jobs of this caliber to earn a similar keep.  But Timekeepers weren’t especially well compensated, paid daily but only paid just enough to keep going until the next per diem.  He’d probably never had more than a couple days on his clock, and now he was earning a month a week just to babysit you.  That was why your father hired him for this, you finally realized: he’d said before that he simply hoped a lawman would have a little more integrity and not give in to temptation with you, but it was far more than just that.

Raymond let go of your neck and tossed you back onto the bed, but just when you hoped he’d climb on top of you and pin you down, he scoffed and turned away.  “You’re too young, anyways,” he said as he crossed his arms.

“Am not,” you denied.

“Your clock hasn’t even started yet,” he noticed.

“I’ve only got a few more years left,” you frowned, “but I’m still an adult.”

“Then fucking act like one,” he suggested sharply, and left the room with slam of your door.

You sighed, once again left frustrated with another unsuccessful attempt to get him into bed.  But, you smiled, too; because you knew this was a step in the right direction.

~

Your father tried not to travel much, since it was one of the few things that exposed him to the risk of death.  Wouldn't it be absurdly ironic, dying in a plane crash after living for hundreds of years and with nearly a millennium left on his clock?

Still, he didn't get all these years by sitting around in his house, he was a busy professional.  And his work sometimes required him to leave for as long as a few weeks.

He had you come and see him off at the hangar, Officer Leon not far behind as you kissed your father on the cheek and bid him safe travels.  

You loved when he left, it gave you a lot more freedom.  But Raymond didn't know that, he just knew you were a billionaire's youngest daughter left alone in a massive mansion, and you'd already had planned for weeks how you could use that to your advantage.

You knew he was outside your door, you could see the shadow of his boots through the crack between the wood and the plush rug.  Fighting off a little smile, you whimpered softly— but not too soft, he needed to hear it.  The first one didn't seem to work, so you dropped your head and did it again.

He swung open the door a second later, and though he seemed relieved to find you alone and not being kidnapped or something, he still had to ask: "Are you alright?"

You sniffled and wiped at your eye, acting like you were trying to hide your tears as if it all wasn’t a performance in the first place.  “Daddy’s gone away,” you pouted, “and left me all by myself… m’so lonely, Mr. Leon.”

“Officer,” he corrected, but his voice faltered when you looked up at him with big, needy eyes.

“I don’t wanna be all alone,” you whimpered, “I need somebody to take care of me… protect me…”

You rubbed your thighs together as you sat on the bed, toying with the lacy hem of your nightgown.

“Somebody big and strong,” you continued as he crossed his arms, “like you.”

His stare was icier than ever, yet those eyes still could’ve melted you if you let them.

“Will you be my new daddy while he’s gone?” you asked sweetly, biting your lip, and he tensed his jaw as he looked away.

“What do you get out of toying with me?” he asked sharply.

“Fucked, hopefully,” you smiled.  

“You know, I’ve known a lot of women,” he informed you; you had no idea where he was going with this, but you liked how it started.  “Rich, poor— prostitutes, politicians— young, or just young-looking.  But I don’t think I’ve ever met such a brainless, insatiable little whore as you.”

You stood up from the bed, stepping closer to him carefully.  “Really?” you smiled, taking it as a compliment, and that only angered him further.

“What is it that makes you think you can get whatever you want?” he wondered, his blue eyes like daggers as he glared at you. 

“Experience,” you shrugged, reaching up to trace a finger over his lapel, but he batted it away harshly.  “Ooh,” you breathed, “you’re a mean daddy, hm?  The type that believes in lots of discipline?”

He didn’t respond, even when you stepped so close that your body was nearly touching his.

“I can be a good girl,” you promised sweetly, “for you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he snapped.

“Let me prove it, daddy,” you purred, “just give me a chance…”

You leaned in, wondering if he’d let you kiss him— he hadn’t backed away, but he hadn’t relaxed out of his bodyguard posture, either.

“Just make me yours,” you pleaded under your breath, lips nearly brushing against his.

Before you even realized he’d given in, he slammed you back against the wall with a hand around your neck, the other instantly grabbing you between the legs, and you mewled joyfully.  “Fuck,” he snarled, like he was just as frustrated with himself as with you; his gloved hand roughly navigated up under your nightgown and into your panties.  

Two leather-covered fingers slid inside you, and you arched your back up off the wall.  

“Needy whore,” he grunted as he shoved his fingers deeper into you, making you whimper as your knees almost buckled.  “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes, daddy,” you moaned happily, though he slapped you across the face hard with his other hand right after you said it, and you yelped as you clutched your cheek.

“I’m not your fucking daddy,” he spat at you.  “Such a goddamn brat— if I was your daddy, you’d have some fucking manners.”

“Teach me,” you begged, “fuck, please— I need to learn.  Teach me right now.”

He let go of you, and pulled his fingers out of you, and stepped back slightly as he shed the gloves and his long coat.  “Get on your fucking knees,” he growled, watching you slide along the wall onto the floor.  

You didn’t need to be told what to do after that, you simply smiled as you reached up to rub the bulge in his pants.  Unbuckling his belt for him, you had to catch your breath when you realized how big he was.  

He smirked when you whimpered slightly while taking it out, stroking him as he got harder in your grip.  “More than you bargained for?” he wondered smugly.

“Nothing a brainless, insatiable little whore can’t handle,” you promised just before leaning forward and taking him into your mouth.  He gasped a little before humming in satisfaction, and you suckled as you swirled your tongue around his head, fitting what you could in your mouth and trying to coat the skin with your spit.

His hand suddenly held onto your hair when you started to bob your head, and he groaned when you choked slightly on the tip of him.  “Fuck,” he whispered, “yeah— like that, baby…”

You moaned around him, not just for show but a reaction to the satisfying weight of him on your tongue— and the slightly salty taste of leaking precum.  Your fingers brushed gently over his balls as you blinked up at him: you were pulling out all the stops, you wanted him to lose his mind over you even more than he already had.

He pushed your hair back, tilting your head further to meet your gaze.  You thought he might speak when he opened his mouth, but you gagged on him again and he just sighed.

Your hand wrapped around the rest of his length that you couldn't reach with your lips, stroking him in time with the way you bobbed your head; and your other hand couldn't help but reach down between your bent legs, pressing against your core— bare, as you'd already thought ahead and forgone panties— and making you hum at the smallest hint of friction.

You were just starting to set a rhythm with it, the bobbing of your head and the stroking of your hand and the way you swirled your tongue… but of course he had to throw you off and shove your head down, making you choke again unexpectedly, as he groaned at the feeling.  “S’what you wanted,” he reminded you, starting to roughly fuck your mouth.  “What you fucking wanted, right, little whore?”

You could only barely nod with him holding your head, and your clit throbbed just from the way he looked down at you with his teeth bared.

“Fuck, just need a cock to choke on,” he growled.  “Only way to shut you up, huh?”

He gave your throat a few more aggressive thrusts before pulling back, and you coughed and wiped your chin as you looked up at him.  “It’s not all I wanted,” you reminded him when you caught your breath, and he smiled at you in a condescending sort of way.

“Right,” he recalled, tilting his head, “you wanted to be fucked.  Poor thing.”

“Please, daddy?” you batted your eyelashes up at him, and he just laughed thinly.

“Nothing’s stopping you, princess,” he replied, holding his hands out, as if to suggest you come and take it.  You couldn’t resist an offer like that.

Standing up and grinning at him, you pushed him back by the shoulders and down onto the bed, straddling his lap.

He smirked up at you; “Really need it that bad, huh?” he mocked as you pulled your nightgown up over your head and tossed it aside quickly.

“Uh huh,” you agreed with a nod, “need you so bad— you’ll let me ride your big cock, right, daddy?  Please?”

But you were already lining him up to your entrance and sinking down, and you both groaned loudly as he filled you.  “God, it’s so wet,” he hissed, watching you gasp as you lowered yourself further.  “You get that wet just from sucking cock?  Fuckin’ slut.”

Your eyes rolled back as the tip of his cock pressed further than you thought possible.  “Fuck, daddy,” you moaned, “you’re so deep…”

“Yeah,” he panted in agreement, “can’t believe that little pussy’s taking all of me…”

You started to grind on him right away, holding onto his shoulders as you rocked your hips desperately.  “Oh my god, oh my god,” you chanted, “it’s s-so good, it feels so good—”

He bit his lip as he watched you, and you loved how it felt to have those steely eyes looking up and down your body as you moved.

You'd been sort of on edge the whole time, sucking him off and all— not to mention that the foreplay with you and Raymond had started, in your mind, months ago when he was first hired.  The satisfaction of finally having him exactly where you wanted him was nearly as good as the physical sensation… but it did feel incredible, the curve of his cock rubbing up against your spot with so much pressure that you shuddered all over.

His hands ran over your body, the strength of them more than apparent even when he was touching you somewhat delicately, and you moaned as his rough fingers punched your nipples.

You shifted from grinding down on him to properly bouncing up and down, arching your back to get the perfect angle as you both groaned.  "Fucking tight," he mumbled his praise.

You held on tighter to his shirt, really wishing you could see him without it, but there was something hot about him still being in his uniform… especially when you were totally naked.  It probably made him think he had more power over you, which was exactly what you wanted him to think.

Moving faster, you felt the pressure building inside you already, pulsing and swelling as you let your head drop forward to look down at him looking jus perfect underneath you.

He grabbed you by the neck, only to be unexpectedly sweet and pull you down into a kiss— but it was still a hungry, dominating kiss, one that made you whine and tense up inside as he tasted all over your tongue and mouth.  And he didn’t let go of your neck, either, in fact he tightened his grip just enough to make you choke out a raspy moan against his lips, which you felt smirk a moment later.  

“So good, daddy,” you mumbled into the last moments of the kiss.  His hands moved down to your body, following your movements, and you pulled back enough to look at his face closely.  “You’re so fucking good, daddy,” you praised again.

He groaned and held your waist tighter, making you hum and smile.  "Little slut," he scolded through his teeth as you moved faster.  “Show daddy how you make yourself come.”

You beamed as he really accepted the title for the first time.  Sitting up higher and bouncing faster, you moaned loudly as you chased your high: shocks of sensation hit inside you, faster and faster the longer you continued.

You grabbed his hands off your hips and pinned them down beside his head, riding him harder while he smirked up at you.  "So desperate," he cooed— but you could hear in his voice that he was close, too.

Whimpering at the feeling, you felt your walls bearing down on him as it nearly hit you— it was sort of difficult to come like this, since you could only move so fast, but the way it was drawn out just made you sure it would build up even stronger and hit you harder.

“Fuck, get off,” he warned, “gonna come.”

You grinned, biting your lip, and kept grinding your hips.

“Get up,” he demanded, but you just tightened your grip on his wrists.  “Fuck, are you—?”

“Shh, m’close,” you scolded, feeling him try to struggle under you— but he was flexing inside you, too, and you knew he couldn’t hold back forever.  He was obviously more than strong enough to fight you off if he really wanted, but it wasn’t about your body overpowering his— it was about you forcing him to give in to his instincts… to temptation.

“I swear to fucking god,” he groaned through his teeth, “if you don’t fucking get off me right now—”

“I’m coming, daddy!” you announced suddenly as you bounced on him even more fervently.  “Oh my god, daddy, m’coming on your big cock!  Yes!”

It felt great, don’t get me wrong, but you were definitely playing it up and giving him a real show as you tossed your head back, screamed out his name, dug your nails into his wrists— you wanted him to be totally helpless to you for just that moment.  “Fuck!” he groaned, and you laughed excitedly as his cock pulsed inside you, heat flooding between your legs and his head falling back onto the mattress with the most gorgeous fucked-out look on his face.  

“Oh fuck, come in me, daddy,” you demanded, rocking your hips and squeezing him tight for every drop, “wanna be so fucking full—”

He groaned through his teeth as it all started to die down a bit, scrunching his face up for a second before relaxing under you again; you felt his cock pump just a few more times, weaker than before, and you hummed proudly.

“God— oh my god—” he panted out, opening his eyes wide as he started to catch his breath, looking at you like you were crazy.  You just laughed and bit your lip as you finally stopped moving.  “What the fuck did you just do?” he snapped, but he still whimpered a bit when you deliberately clenched your walls around him.

“Sorry,” you shrugged, “I just really needed some come inside me— been really in the mood to get bred lately—”

You giggled as he grabbed you and threw you down onto the bed, turning you both over as he held your arms tight and pulled out— he blinked quickly, his lips slack and still a little stained from your pink gloss, as he watched his come leak out of your pussy.  “Fuck,” he snarled, clearly trying to use his anger and panic to hide how much it turned him on.  “Are you fucking kidding me?  Do you realize what fucking happens if you get—?”

“Pregnant?” you finished for him, licking your lips excitedly.  “Doesn’t it sound so hot though?  You knocking me up, getting me all nice and full with your baby, ‘cause I’m so young and fertile— and then you can be a real daddy—”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he spat, sitting back at little on the bed and running his hands over his face in dismay.  “You’re— oh god— I can’t believe this is happening—”

“Calm down, grumpypants,” you scolded with a smile as you sat up and looked at him closer.  “I’m on the pill, haven’t missed one in years.”

Ray’s terrified expression fell into relief and frustration simultaneously.  “Fucking— you could’ve told me that before,” he frowned, dropping his hands to his sides.

“But then I would’ve missed out on your little meltdown,” you laughed proudly.  “You looked cute like that, panicking and thinking you really got me pregnant.”

He watched you get up out of the bed and snag your silk robe from off of a hook on the wall, slipping it on as you walked to the bathroom.  You looked over your shoulder at him as you turned the door’s golden handle, smirking when you saw the dumbfounded look on his face.

“I think I could use a bath,” you explained, “care to join me, big boy?”

The look on his face was that sort of incredulous denial— like he couldn’t believe that you’d ask him that, expecting him to ever want to be near you again after pulling that stunt.  “Are you serious?!” he choked.

“Of course,” you laughed, “I’m not in a joking mood anymore.  Are you coming or not?”

He laughed in bewilderment and looked around for a moment, before sighing in relent.  “Yeah, I am,” he admitted, sliding off the bed to come join you.  You smirked to yourself; these boys are simply too easy.

[fairytaleendingss]

Hey lovely, first, I just want to say I love your work so much. I wanted to request a poly Marauders fic with a female reader who's struggling with schoolwork and is overall feeling depressed. She starts to isolate herself from everyone, her grades drop, and she stops taking good care of herself. I understand this is a heavier topic, but I've been stuck in a slump and would love an angst/comfort fic. Either way, thank you!

Thanks for the request! Generally, I don't mind writing about heavier topics so don't be afraid to ask (hurt/comfort is my favourite thing to write tbh). I'm sorry you're not doing well but I hope this makes you feel a little better.

Overworked

Summary: The boys comfort you when you've been struggling with your school load.

Pairing: Poly!Marauder x fem!reader

CW: Angst, reader not taking care of herself, poor mental health.

—

It was getting dark outside, you noticed, glancing out the window of the library. Silver stars had began to twinkle in the inky black sky and the moon, in it's waning phase was hanging just outside of window, casting gentle rays off light over the table before you.

You didn't know how long you'd been there but from the looks of things, it'd been a while. It had been mid-afternoon when you'd decided to venture into the library for a study session.

Now it was late, it seemed, and your half-written essay sat before you, staring into your soul like it was mocking you. You rubbed your eyes, in an attempt to clear your blurring vision.

You'd been working on this essay for what seemed like days but for some reason, you just couldn't make it work. This was your fourth re-write and you still weren't satisfied. You resigned yourself to the idea that you may have to pull yet another all-nighter tonight if you were going to get it ready for submission in a few days.

It had been like this for weeks. A constant cycle of submitting essays and starting new ones, in preparation for your upcoming NEWTs. It was becoming overwhelming. The work was piling up and this point you were struggling to see the finish line. It felt as though no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't manage to keep up and it was killing you.

You'd barely had time to sleep over the last few weeks and when you did, it was full of horrid dreams of missing due dates and failing exams. You we're completely drained of energy, engulfed by stress and had barely had time to take care of yourself amongst the hours of exam prep you'd put yourself through. Your friends had started to notice it too, the way you'd withdrawn yourself. You'd begun to pull out of group events and stop engaging with conversations on the rare occasions when you did find time to spend with them.

And the worst part of it all is that you'd had to blow of your amazing boyfriends more times than you could count. You were sure it was starting to take a toll on them as well but you were too embarrassed to tell them about what was going on. They were all so naturally smart and got good grades without barely having to try (apart from Remus, of course, who studied like his life depended on it.)

So instead of opening up to them about your struggles and your concerns, you'd taken to avoiding them where you could, which was only proving to fill you with guilt on top of everything else.

You noticed a splash of water drop onto the parchment in front of you but you were quick to wipe it away. You had to remain focused.

You didn't know how much time had passed when you heard the gentle pitter patter of footsteps across the stone floor. You looked up to see the one and only James Potter, eyes scanning the space, clearly in search of something.

You raised a brow at the sight. You weren't quite sure what he was doing here. James rarely entered the library of his own volition. You wondered for a moment if he had gotten lost.

Then his gaze landed on you and his face lit up like a Christmas tree. He jogged over to you, placing a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek. Then he crouched down beside where your form was slumped over the desk.

"Hey there, lovely. We've been looking for you everywhere. You missed dinner."

He was looking into your eyes with such affection that they once again, welled with tears. He looked beautiful in the low light of the library. His dark curls were disheveled as usual, flopping down into his eyes, and he was wearing his signature lopsided smile, the one that usually never failed to cause butterflies to flutter in your stomach. However, in this moment in just caused a wave a guilt to wash over you. You didn't deserve him. You didn't deserve any of your wonderful boyfriends.

Sensing your distress, a crease of concern formed between James' eyebrows. He reached out a hand to every so gently brush a stand of hair behind your ear, his thumb hovering for a moment, rubbing small circles in your cheek.

"What's wrong sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry I missed dinner," you pouted, trying to keep your tears at bay. "I didn't mean stand you up again."

"That's okay, love," James chuckled sympathetically. "We're just worried about you is all."

Your bottom lip wobbled at that. You knew you'd been slack in your efforts with the boys recently and it hurt your heart to make them upset like this.

"Oh darling, come 'ere." he tugged you towards him, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his muscular arms around your shaking frame.

This is when the floodgates opened and you found yourself sobbing into the front of James' shirt. You gripped the fabric for dear life as he held you, not taking any notice of the wet patch you were creating on his front. He whispered soft reassurances in your hair, rubbing your back gently and you finally let the emotions wash over you.

Eventually your tears began to slow and you pulled away, sniffling pathetically. You looked into James' hazel eyes, which were now clouded with concern.

He opened his mouth to say something more but you were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps rushing towards the two of you.

"Prongs?" Sirius voice echoed out through the Library. "Are you in here?"

"Yeah, I found her," he called back.

A moment later, the figures of your other two boyfriends peered around a bookcase. The relief melted from their expressions when they took in the sight of year tear stained cheeks.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Sirius rushed towards you and James moved aside to let him take a closer look at you.

"Did someone hurt you? I'll kill them."

This elicited a chuckle from you as you wiped your eyes with a shaky hand.

"No Sirius, I'm okay. You don't have to fight anyone."

"Well thank god for that," Remus sighed teasingly. "We wouldn't want anyone messing up that pretty face of yours, would we?"

Sirius took on a look of mock offense. "How dare you! They wouldn't have time to get a lick in if they hurt our girl."

"Well, luckily you don't have to worry about fighting any imaginary people just yet," you giggled.

Remus took a seat at your other side, happy to see Sirius was able to make you smile. He hadn't caught many of those as of late. As he sat down at the table, he noticed your unfinished essay.

"Darling, tell us what's got you so upset?" he pressed.

You took a deep breath. "I've just been so overwhelmed lately. I just feel like I can't keep up and the work just keeps piling up. I don't know if I can do it anymore."

"Oh, love," Sirius cooed, a deep frown gracing his delicate features. "Why didn't you tell us."

"I don't know. You guys are so good at school. I was just embarrassed I suppose."

Remus reached out a gentle hand to rub your back. "You never have to be embarrassed around us, lovely. We just want to help you. We can't do that if we don't know what's going on."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled pathetically. You felt a bit silly now for ever thinking they'd judge you.

"It's okay, sweets," James muttered. "We'll always be here for you if you need us. No matter what, alright?"

"Yeah," Sirius added. "Even if it means I have to fight someone."

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"There's that gorgeous smile of yours," he exclaimed and placed a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Now, what can we do to help?" Remus asked gently. He had this kind, nurturing aura about him that always had a way of putting you at ease.

You sighed, mentally assessing your list of tasks. "I need to finish this essay but I just can't seem to get to the end."

"It sounds to me like what you need, love, is a good nights sleep. You need to take care of yourself before anything else." He suggested, looking at you sweetly.

"Maybe you're right," you relented. Remus always was the wise one of the group.

"Come on!" Sirius exclaimed. "Lets get you up to bed. James can sneak down to the kitchen and grab you some food and then Remus can help you with your work in the morning. How does that sound?"

He helped you up from your chair and James swung your bookbag over his shoulder.

"That sounds nice," you told him earnestly.

Sirius tucked you under his arm while Remus gently grabbed your other hand in his and you began to make your way towards the tower.

"I have one more thing to ask though," you announced as you made your way through the castle halls.

"Anything," Remus answered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"When we get back to the dorm, do you think we can cuddle for a bit?"

James turned around to face you from where he was walking ahead, a goofy smile plastered on his face.

"Darling, you never have to ask for that."

[evie-sturns]

Bonfire - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you and chris have been as close as anything for years, until one night where chris, you and your friend group have a beach bonfire, resulting in you and chris disappearing together..

contains: smut, sneaking off with chris, semi-public sex, swearing.

-----------------------..••°°°°••..--------------------—-

chris and i have been close since the start of highschool, he introduced me to his brothers, nick and matt, who i've also befriended over the past few years. tonight our whole extended friend group are meeting up on the beach for a bonfire for madis birthday.

6:39pm

i pull up my low rise denim shorts, fixing my hair in the mirror as chris watches from behind me. "chris, i think my bikini is loose, can you tighten it for me?" i ask, spinning around to look at him.

chris clears his throat, "yeah, sure." he says, walking across my bedroom to me and spinning me around. i feel his cold fingers untie my bikini top as i hold the straps.

he gently brushes my back as he tightens the top into a double-knot. "tight enough?" chris asks, i spin around a flash him a smile, "thanks!" i chirp.

"can you guys hurry the fuck up." matt groans, he's apparently 'despises' being our uber driver.

"hey mr sunshine!" i say with a sarcastic grin painted across my face as i open my bedroom door, matt just scoffs with a small laugh, hes got his car keys in his hands.

-

i jump into the backseat of matts mini van, nick gets in the passenger seat and chris jumps in beside me, our legs touching.

the ride to the beach is.. entertaining? matt and nick have been having a deathly argument ever since we pulled out of our driveway, and i don't think they even know what theyre arguing about now.

matt reaches behind and slaps chris's thigh,

"the fuck did i do!!" chris laughs in shock, "breathing so loud, you sound like your battling your fucking demons back there." matt mumbles as he parallel parks into a spot.

chris taps my inner thigh with 2 fingers, "ready to go?" he asks i nod shyly, my mouth open slightly. chris climbs out of the backseat, i follow close behind, stepping out on to the footpath, covered in small grains of sand. i follow behind the triplets, the beach is completley empty apart from a small cluster of people.

"matt!" nate calls out from the sand about 50 meters away, waving his hand above his head. i jog over to them, dramatically leaping into madis arms,

theres about 35 people all scattered on the sand around a heaped pile of sticks, before i can look for chris i hear a small cheer as a boy lights up the pile of sticks, the orange rays illuminating the grains of sand around the fire.

i run over to the triplets who are sat on the sand is a small cluster, i plop myself down next to them, sparking up a conversation as people start to pull alcohol out of nowhere.

9:47pm

im laying on chris's chest as lively music blares through the night air, he breathes in and out calmly. the sun has fully set, the only light on the beach is the burnt out bonfire, sand kicks up as everyone charges towards the ocean,

i sit up, looking down at chris who has his eyes shut peacefully, the only people left on the beach are all drunk and obnoxiously loud. "chris." i tap him lightly, his eyes flutter open.

"mhm?" he asks, sitting up. his features are perfectly sculptured by the dim light, his hair resting on his forehead. the chain around his neck clings to his bare chest, the only thing on his body are dark blue swim shorts.

i grab his hand, standing up and brushing myself off. i drag chris behind the sand dunes. "you okay?" he asks, i stand infront of him, grabbing his jaw and staring at his lips.

before i can lean in, chris connects our lips hungrily, his hand snaking around my waist and back. i feel the same hands that were tying my bikini 3 hours ago, now frantically undoing it. my bikini falls to our feet, chris pulls away from the kiss, his eyes roaming up and down my body.

chris sits down on the sand, i straddle him as he pulls off his swim shorts. i undo my denim shorts, my bikini bottoms follow.

chris stares into my eyes, our heathy breaths accompanying the silence. "you want to?" chris asks, gripping my waist. "obviously" i tease "gonna have to be nice and quiet for me? yeah?" chris asks, i nod.

“you sure i mean-“ he starts again, i cut him off

“chris we will talk about all of this tomorrow, i need you now”

his hands move to my ass, he hovers me right above his tip before sinking me down slowly, i slam a hand over my mouth “shit.” i moan, the noise muffled by my palm.

“you got it.” chris says, his voice shaky.

i start to bounce up and down on his length, chris also thrusts up into me, filling me up.

chris flips us over, keeping himself inside of me. his chain dangles infront of me as he starts to pound into me, the sand moving below me.

i let out a scream of his name as he repeatedly pounds into me at just the right angle “please fuck!”

chris slams a hand over my lips, his eyes locking with mine, “be quiet.” he almost demands,

“chris i’m close” i groan into his cold hand, he shakes his head,

“no not yet.” he manages to squeeze out, his voice strained.

i start to clench around chris with every thrust, barely audible whimpers escape chris each time i do, i can tell its driving him crazy.

“cum for me, right now” chris says, his thrusts increasing in intensity,

i do, releasing around him, my nails clawing his back repeatedly, he thrusts into me one last time before pulling out, stroking himself once before painting the sand white.

chris and i lay still next to eachother for about a minute, attempting to catch our breath.

“you okay?” chris asks with a small laugh. “yeah, more than okay.” i say back, starting to redress myself.

chris pulls up his shorts before helping me up off the sand, he takes my hand and runs me down to the beach, “chris!” i laugh as he scoops me off my feet and runs towards the ocean, where all of our friends are.

he sprints into the water, throwing me a meter before tripping up and slamming face first into a wave.

i erupt into laughter as he stands up, casually running a hand through his soaked hair.

“yo chris!?” a boy calls out, swimming over to him,

“yeah?” he replies, i watch him as he spins around to face the boy,

“who the fuck was scraping your back, you’ve got red nail lines like everywhere” the boy laughs,

chris’s head snaps round to look at me before swimming over to me, scooping me up for the second time tonight and throwing me into the water.

[screeching-bunny]

I’m not sure if you accept thirst asks, but if you do, then, goshhhh imagine giving ‘it’ to one of your concubines and they just keep repeating the words “Thank you thank you thank you” as they suck and lap at your 🫢. They repeat the words like a prayer, almost as if they were worshipping a god (you).

But if don’t accept thirst asks then please feel free to ignore if this ever makes you uncomfortable.

Yandere! Concubine Harem Asks 1

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’ NSFW!!! MINORS DNI. This is my first time writing nsfw content so it’s kinda bad 💀.

In a magnificent office filled with many luxuries sat a grand ruler by their desk surrounded by towering piles of paperwork. The ruler's regal figure was draped in a robe of royal purple, adorned with gold trimmings, symbolizing their authority and power. As the sun's rays filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a warm glow upon the room, you sighed wearily, with brows furrowed with the weight of your responsibilities. All was quiet but if someone listened closely they could hear the faint sound of slurping.

“Can’t you be quieter? Can’t you see I’m trying to get some of my work done!?”

Beneath you and between your legs was your consort on his knees. He was undressed and was as naked as the day he was born. The man was known for his fierceness and cold heart was currently panting under you like a dog. The sounds of gasps and moans could be heard coming from the man. Currently his lips were red and swollen from the rough treatment that you have given him. Saliva dripped down his mouth as he was desperate to have a taste of you. He sucked and licked as if you were the only source of water he had in years. There was a look of desperateness in his eyes, it made you chuckle at how pathetic he looked. A constant mumbling of “thank yous” came from him each time he had a chance to breathe air.

The consort, whose name you couldn’t have bothered to remember, was as hard as a rock. Having enough of how slow this was going you decided to throw him down onto a couch. You made your way on top of him, positioned yourself, and slammed down right onto his member.

“Ahhh, agh!!”

Tears leaked from his eyes as he began to tremble. Your arms were pressed firmly into the cushions as you made your fierce movements as he was beneath you. He was huge and swollen within you. You began to rock your hips continuously down on him. His breathing became more harsh and stuttered. You leaned down and began to nibble down on his bottom lip. The kiss was very strong and aggressive. When your consort needed to breathe you made sure to slam your lips back on top of his again. His hands on your waist while your tongues intertwined with each other. Devastating pleasure overcame your consort. His eyes were hazy and you could feel a pump of warm liquid form inside of you. When you released from the kiss his mouth was red and swollen with a string of saliva attaching the two of you.

“Ah, ah, agh!!”

“I can’t believe you came from a kiss. Ugh whatever, a few of my advisors will be here any minute. If they catch us doing this, I won't be letting you off easy tonight.”

It was safe to say that the advisors were never allowed entrance into your study due to… your other matters. However, the next day whenever the maids came near that room, their faces would instantly turn bright red. The sounds that came from that room yesterday were definitely something else and they couldn’t help but blush from it. They just couldn’t believe it went on for an entire day! The good thing was that at least the maids that were in charge of cleaning up your mess got a massive raise but holy cow did you really have to break a sofa?!?! The only thing that they could do was pray for your poor consort.

[ladybyakuya]

| THAW + GAKU. 

+cw. — fem!reader, biker au, biker!gaku, biker!nagumo, uzuki, akira, kashimo are mentioned, background uzurion & taroaoi; no fluff or smut so idk what to mention except, heavy pining, tension, first meet, and flirting. Will there be more? Lets see? 

+wc. —1.2k 

+syn.— oya? A new face in town? A new trophy to win? Perhaps. . .

+notes. — thought too much about biker!gaku while listening to Tough by l d ray and now i’m here.| redirect to blog navigation.

Gaku always ties his ace hand bandages on both hands all by himself while the spectators watch him do it, slowly surrounding him like a bevy of stars, boys and girls alike thinking what if he needs help, what if he picks one of them but he never picks someone from the crowd to do it. It is a holy ritual for him, a gesture of good luck before he secures a win against the rival gang but tonight as he spots a new face among the crowd and that too in the rival gang he can not help but wonder who might you be! 

He sees you hiding behind one of the top bikers in the rival gang, Rion Akao clutching onto her arms like it is a last stick in the sea to survive, eyes lingering all over the place with a downpour of worry and fear. Why did Akao-san bring you here? Or were you that curious that she could not dismiss your demand? Did you throw a tantrum? Oh my my! Are you the tantrum-thrower type? Kei who is standing by his side notices how Gaku’s hand movements have ceased while doing his silly habit for what he calls “a holy ritual.” 

He nudges Gaku’s elbow saying, “Oye focus.”

“Huh?” was all Gaku yielded from his chest looking at Kei and then looking at you asking, “Who’s that? Never seen her before.”

“That’s Rion. You truly need those eyes to get checked.” While Geku’s eyes still watch you from the gaps of the crowd, his eyebrows pinch at first; then he turns his head towards Uzuki exclaiming with a tone of taunt laced underneath, “Really now! You have eyes only for Rion-san but no one else, huh?” as he leans over the engine of his bike and everyone in the crowd vocally swoons in unison at his stance which certainly makes you notice that particular crowd surrounding a biker on the opposite side of the road.

Uzuki’s eyes go flat like a heart monitor of a dying patient. He can’t put up with this now! Literally can’t.Not again. The visible annoyance on his face does not go unnoticed by Gaku and hence, he decides to salt and pepper it as the announcement starts to blare, “Everyone! clear the path. The race is going to start soon. Everyone! clear the path The race. . .”

Today’s crowd is not that rowdy so Kashimo does not have to hurt his throat and lungs much. Sometimes he has to take medicine but that happens on special days, like when there is a race match between Taro and Uzuki. 

As the crowd disperses, Nagumo gets ready for his race against Gaku. The former holds his helmet in his hands as Rion whispers in his ears. Nagumo laughs as Rion steps away with a serious expression while he laughs before stating,” Sure. Sure. I will take her on a ride for sure,” looking at you. 

“I will not wear a helmet though.” You demand. One of Nagumo’s eyebrows jumps; not that Nagumo is reluctant to your choice yet feels the urge to look at Rion. Her expression does not help him much. 

“No. can’t do. Safety first lady.”  Nagumo chimes.

Now the road is occupied by the two bikers who are about to race against each other. Most of the crowd had stepped back to the pavement alongside the road. Gaku still has not completed his ace bandage, which is spotted from where Kashimo is announcing. He was just about to ping Uzuki about it but things take an unexpected turn.

Standing among the crowd, you laugh at Nagumo’s silly antics while Rion scolds him. Gaku glances at Kei before he extends his arm towards the other side of the road. The unified commotion of the crowd dissipates gradually as you finally lay eyes on him. You see the guy opposite Nagumo swallowing, the movement of his Adam’s apple is painfully visible. It takes a while for everyone to understand who is he pointing at.

Rion and Kei exchange looks. While Kei lets his fingers skim through his hair in disbelief a smile tugs up along Rion’s lips. “Go on. He is harmless,” says she swatting her hand making your lithe grip let loose. You look at Aoi who is standing beside Taro holding his hand because Rion saying ‘harmless’ is not the kind of gauging you can easily rely on. Aoi smiles at you while Taro just nods. Now, what’s that supposed to mean? You look at the biker on the opposite side of the road who is still waiting, extending his hand out towards you. 

You sigh, just once but with the silence that got clustered in this place within a few minutes your sigh sure sounds heavy. You cross the road, stand in front of Gaku, and grace him with a two-second eye contact before holding those dangling bandages. You tilt your head and inspect. There is not much to be done, except wrapping the tape around his fingers and the thumb part has already been done. It is a good thing that you knew otherwise it would be so embarrassing. Maybe he would instruct you or show you how to do it on one of his hands so that you could do the other. You secure the wrapping with the velcro ends it had. Your ears pick up a question, “Are you new around here?”

Gaku gives you his other hand with a tape coming out of his pocket. You look at him with a surprise washing over your face, lips visibly apart as your eyebrows pinch. Is this guy for real? “No. Not really,” you say inserting the loop over his thumb. You need a sort of support to achieve the tight binding it demands. A part of you wants to avoid any sort of skin contact not because he is a stranger or an acquaintance of an acquaintance but because you would like your boundaries to be protected. So, you scoot forward a little letting his fingertips rest on the leather jacket yours,  the left side where your heart resides, while holding his wrist that has already been wrapped. You start to wrap the tape around his wrist then diagonally when Gaku notices how even your heart beats. It makes him nervous. 

“What will you be doing after this race?” Your movement pauses for like two seconds and then you continue. “Are you free?” Gaku can feel your heart rate. It is not calm anymore. You tie around his knuckles, then move to wrap in between his fingers one by one taking your time while the grip on his wrist grows firm. You can feel his pulse too. It is throbbing like an old light in the attic.

“Am not,” you utter, sticking the two ends of velcro one over the other. Glancing at him once you get back to the other side of the road getting behind Rion like you did before but this time not holding her hand or Akiras who is smiling and giving you looks. 

“That was an odd display of . . . affection?” The mike is alive again. Gaku looks like he just has his pants. 

“You really need to teach him some manners Kei.”  Gaku voiced. 

Uzuki lets out a chuckle offering the most humble response, “Now why would I do that?”