#V writes

[heylittleriotact]

⚰ＷＩＰ ＷＨＥＮＥＶＥＲ⚰

I've been tagged by @xxnashiraxx and love seeing their work pop up on my dash - thank you <3

The Soup du Jour is... smut! Plotless, pointless, porntacular, horny Emmrook smut.

We've got praise kinks, we've got flashing, we've got grinding, we've got trying-to-distract-this-poor-man-from-his-work, we've got Rook biting off more than she can chew when Emmrich calls her bluff. It is in this piece that I am (ultimately) going to make good on my threat of Emmrich reciting erotic poetry intimately into Rook's ear while he makes deeply passionate love to her, because that idea has lived rent-free in my head for days now and I need to manifest it. But first I need Rook to be a brat, and for Emmrich to... deal with that.

I was having doubts about this one because I am forever afraid of writing OOC, but honestly I'm just trying to chuck it in the fuck it bucket and have fun.

Tagging: @preciouslittlebhaalbae (you have TIME now MWAHAHAHA), @allofthebarks (don't hold out on me), @emmg (I know you're cooking 👀)

Under the cut because it is ✨EXPLICIT✨

𝒱𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃:

A funeral event where the prepared body of the deceased is reposed in the casket (open or closed) so that mourners may pay their respects, say their goodbyes, and grieve communally prior to the formal funeral service.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she pulled on the flimsy little camisole. She had very specific plans in mind when she slipped into the thin leggings that she knew were just a little too tight. There was a distinct reason she had chosen to completely forgo underthings. 

She tied her thick hair into a low bun at the base of her skull so her neck was clearly visible… as was the somewhat faded love bite from their previous encounter - the one that made Lace turn beetroot when she laid eyes on it at breakfast. The one that prompted Taash to reach over the table with a congratulatory high five. Emmrich had coughed awkwardly and subtly adjusted his own collar, clearly hoping the marks Amina had left on his neck in return were concealed.

She padded barefoot down the hallway to the laboratory, stomach fluttering and turning on itself in a not unpleasant way with the sheer anticipation of being in his proximity again. She couldn’t help but be drawn to him - his immense gravity could not be ignored; her need to be near him was insistent. She put little stock in the novelty of fate before Emmrich, but there was no doubt in her mind that there must have been some sort of cosmic ruling in which they were unwittingly sentenced by the stars to find one another. Her belly smouldered at the thought of such a thing… of such belonging.

She knocked gently on the door. “It’s me - may I come in?” 

She didn’t have to wait for an answer, nor did she have to turn the knob herself: she heard a chair scuff over the flagstone, the muffled jingle of gold - a sound that set her heart racing more often than not these days - and the door was flung open. Emmrich stood in the threshold, beaming affectionately down at her. 

“Of course, darling.” He took her hand and pulled her into the room, reaching over her shoulder to shut the door once she was inside. She might have been embarrassed that the sound of the lock clicking behind her made her breath catch solely due to its implication, but she was having a hard time feeling much of anything but barely restrained lust for the man in front of her. 

He drew her in close with an arm around her waist, still holding her hand between them, massaging her palm with his thumb as he bowed his head to kiss her sweetly. Her knees went weak when his lips met hers and his familiar scent filled her nose, rendering her brain incapable of anything other than inwardly chanting the same base sentiment over and over for as long as the kiss lasted: Home! Home! Home! Home! You’re home!

He straightened and looked at her, smiling as though he hadn’t heard the hungry little moan that had slipped from her, nor perceived the way she’d pressed as much of her body against him as she could during their embrace. “How are you today?” He asked, genuinely interested - as always. He knew. Surely he knew that she was positively bursting with need for him.

“Fine,” she breathed, returning the smile, watching as he started back towards the desk that was covered with books, inkpots, and parchment. “I’m well, thank you. Just thought I’d come say hello, see what you’re up to.”  

He pulled a chair over to the opposite side of the desk for her to sit on. She opted to remain standing instead, her eyes flitted over the pages of drying ink spread over the desk. 

“More letters home?” She waited until he was settled in his chair again, the quill back in his hand, and she bent at the waist to take a closer look at a recent anatomical drawing he’d completed. She could feel the cozy heat of the laboratory caress the exposed peaks of her breasts as the insubstantial shirt draped downward, offering a generous eyeful to anyone who might be sitting directly across from her. 

Her eyes flicked up from the drawing when Emmrich didn’t answer right away, a clever smile pulling at the corners of her mouth when she caught him red-handed; his eyes locked on the dainty swell of her breasts. 

He came to his senses when he felt her eyes on him and he comprehended the coquettish smirk on her face. “Yes.” He licked his lips. “Yes. Maintaining alliships and channels of communication is vital as we draw closer to our confrontation with the gods.” He swallowed and smiled again as Amina straightened and rounded the desk, settling against the wood on his side now.

“A fine plan,” she concurred, leaning back on her hands, her very visible nipples more or less eye level for the handsome academic to admire. “I hope I’m not distracting you: it’s so rare that I get a few hours to just relax these days.” She made a bit of a show of tilting her chin up and slowly rolling her head from side to side, stretching out the muscles of her neck and making sure Emmrich could see the soft plum-tinted bloom of colour he’d imparted on her skin as he sent her over the edge with his name on her lips, buried to the hilt between her legs as she clenched hard around him, her fingers curled tightly in his soft, thick hair. ‘You are incredible, darling,’ he had sighed against her tingling skin afterwards when they were little more than a tangled, panting heap of limbs. It had taken a good hour after that before she could walk again…

Amina squirmed against the desk a little at the thought, aware of the burgeoning wetness that was accumulating at the juncture of her thighs. 

Somehow Emmrich managed to maintain the discipline required to look back at the letter he was working on, his lips curling quaintly. “Not at all, my dear - quite the contrary in fact: I’m so glad that you’re finally taking some time to look after yourself.” He dipped the quill, tapped it once, twice, and then brought it to the paper.

She observed him in silence until he seemingly made peace with the fact that she was not going to sit on the chair he’d brought over for her, and instead pushed his own back slightly, pulling her down onto his lap where she perched gleefully, having gotten what she wanted. 

“I must concede that you are somewhat distracting, so I will need your assistance in proofreading these before they’re sent out - I do have an academic reputation to maintain, regardless of the beautiful woman on my knee.” 

“Is that so?” Amina purred, nuzzling into his neck, her lips barely ghosting over his skin that smelled organic and clean - crisp soap and freshly cut sage… a lingering hint of pipe tobacco and expensive brandy. 

Oh yes, she was going to be one hell of a distraction…

“She sounds like a real piece of work, this woman. It’s a marvel that you get anything done at all with her around.” She tilted her hips ever so slightly. Not enough for it to be claimed that she was trying to get a rise out of him, but enough so that the fingernails of his left hand dug into her side a little where he gripped her. A pleased smile took her lips at the feeling of him against her, already half hard: he could pretend to be aloof and composed all he liked, but she knew that there was only one possible outcome for this encounter. 

“I was just having a similar thought, as it turns out,” he murmured, breath catching slightly when Amina ground against him more deliberately this time. “She’s cornered me in my laboratory no fewer than three times this week, you see: my productivity has utterly plummeted.”

The way he whispered those words, his voice so sinful and cunning…

“Oh dear…” Amina tutted. “Well we can’t have that now, can we?” She moved to slide from his lap, fully prepared to at least pretend that she cared a whit about Emmrich’s ‘productivity’ of late. 

He held her fast though, keeping her on his lap with his hands and arms, and the sheer fact of his existence alone. She rewarded him with a satisfied hum and another agonizingly slow roll of her hips, suspecting that she was probably beginning to soak through her thin pants.

His hand dropped from her waist to her thigh and he palmed the expanse of hard muscle there, dragging his fingers towards her hip as he leaned forward and his hot breath washed over the sensitive shell of her ear, driving a small gasp from her as she flinched in his grasp: he had not been idly boasting during that dinner date about his anatomical prowess.

“I fear I wouldn’t have it any other way…” he confided, those artful, nimble fingers of his straying to her waistband and slipping beneath it. He sharply inhaled through his teeth and uttered a soft ‘oh’ when he found her waiting for him, slick and needy. There was a slight tremor in his voice when he said, “She is intoxicating, you see…”

She moaned encouragingly as he swirled a finger through her, clearly enjoying the experience of her arousal alone: she could distinctly feel his hardness against her rear now.

Oh how she longed to ravish him - ride him to completion on this very chair, or on the floor perhaps. Maybe against one of the many bookshelves that lined the room - they had dallied against one the week before, her leg hitched up around his thin waist, pulling him deeper as he set a pace that stole her breath from her lungs and hit angles that caused her to see stars. 

Or she could bend over the railing of the balcony upstairs and feign interest in the curious nature of their environs while he slammed into her over and over again, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips… 

Of course there had been the rather awkward instance a few days earlier where Manfred had wandered in on them both in a state of partial undress: Emmrich’s waistcoat hanging open, Amina dragging her hands through his hair, her own shirt piled in a careless heap on the floor nearby and Emmrich’s hand down her pants as she tried to kick off her high-heeled lilac slippers without removing her lips from his skin. Manfred had launched himself between the two of them with a consternated hiss, clearly interpreting their entanglement to mean they were fighting instead of well… the other thing. The following day, Emmrich gave his first in a series of many lectures to Manfred about the birds and the bees - and reiterated the invaluable virtue of always knocking before entering a room that might have someone else in it.

She was snapped from her musing at the sublime sensation of Emmrich’s finger dragging along the ridges of her walls as he slid the digit inside of her. She let out a small gasp at the intrusion and reflexively clenched around it, hips rocking against his once more. 

“... but I really must finish these letters.” There was a playful, coy edge to his voice as he slowly withdrew his finger and slowly pushed it back in. “This striking woman of mine will need to exercise patience today, it seems…”

Something about being his striking woman in particular sent a jolt of arousal straight through her very soul. She could feel the cool metal of his rings against her feverish skin as he cupped her sex, his thumb brushing almost tauntingly over her aching clit. 

“Please, Emmrich…” she whined, arching up into his touch, making her need plain. 

The demonstration of manners earned her a second finger, but her lover did not deviate from his task as he leaned forward, dipped the quill, and began to write once more. “In good time, my precious love,” he soothed. “Try to relax for the time being - I shan’t take long.” 

“It feels so good though…” 

“That’s wonderful, darling - I want you to feel good.” 

She fell silent, the wind in the sails of her desire to argue stilling as she let her head fall against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, allowing herself to exist in the moment - holding on tight to every emphatic response of her nervous system as Emmrich touched her with a capable familiarity that suggested he’d touched her a thousand times before; the erotic symphony of the quill scratching over the parchment mingled with the sound of his fingers moving within her… her breathy moans… his many bangles shifting gently with each purposeful gesture…

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured eventually - she had lost track of time - kissing her shoulder before returning to the letter. He had to be nearly done, hadn’t he? “So good for me… my sweet Amina…”

She whimpered at his words - the reverent praise tolling something deep within her that was starved and lonely. She writhed on his thigh as he placed tender kisses all over her cheek and crooked his fingers, stroking that euphoric place inside of her that made cognizant thought impossible and made her thighs tremble like she’d been in the training hall all day. He took her apart slowly, casually�� effortlessly, and before long she was fluttering around him, cheeks and lips flushed a delicate pink, staring down an orgasm that was about to be everyone in the building’s business - she could feel it: the deep fire in her belly roiling and twisting on itself, going taut, so tense and eager that one more touch could snap it, yielding the most decadent release…

And then he was gone, the absence of his touch keenly felt as her walls flexed and tensed around the sudden nothingness. 

She glowered at him, though her stomach flip-flopped enthusiastically as she watched him taste her on his slender fingers with a dignified poise she should have expected. “That was cruel.”

“Is it cruel to strive to linger in a garden of untold majesty forever, even knowing forever is unobtainable?” He stroked those same fingers gently over her lips and she caught the tip of one between her teeth, flicking the very tip of her tongue over the fleshy pad of it. “I want to savour you, my dear.” He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her scent. “Let me take my time.”

[biblio-smia]

“warming their hands by slipping them up the other’s shirt and onto their back/stomach” with tasm peter would be soo cute bc hed be like 😑😐must u do this to me jokingly but then would wrap his around around reader and squeeze them to warm them up

there's only dim light left by the time you and peter tuck yourselves into bed - you're not sure the city is capable of ever going completely dark.

you're cold. someone, you or peter, hadn't quite shut the window all the way earlier and the post-sundown chill had crept into your room.

peter's like a radiator with the way he constantly emits heat. he'll tease you sometimes, pressing his warm hands against your already too-warm skin.

but it's you who seeks him out now, hands maneuvering under the cooled duvet and past peter's old midtown shirt until you've reached your target.

peter whines but doesn't recoil, hands quick to come up over yours. he doesn't stop your movement and can't do much to fight the goosebumps you give him, his fingers falling off yours. your touch is icy as you move from his stomach to his sides, chasing the warmth you seem to be driving away.

"c'mere," peter whispers, placing your hands on his back and pulling you in close. his arms wrap around your body, thumbs rubbing your exposed arms. "you're freezing," peter mumbles, pulling the covers up to your chin.

you grumble into his chest, eyelids already getting heavy in peter's hold.

"i've got you," peter might've whispered - but in your hazy state, you couldn't be positive. you're definitely warm now - from the inside out as peter's hands rubbing up and down your arms lull you to sleep.

peter is your own personal heater but he doesn't seem to mind much.

part of v's 1000 follower celebration | main masterlist

[somethingvicked]

Take It Back

An Eddie Munson one-shot.

warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, Eddie being an oblivious idiot, emotional cheating(?), breaking up.

If someone asked Eddie when the new girl, Cathy, had become his first priority instead of his girlfriend, he wouldn’t be able to answer them.

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He still loved his girl, more than anything in the world, she was the girl he had planned his future with, and still wanted a future with. And now he had gone and fucked that all up.

He wished he could take it all back.

Just to have another minute with her.

When Cathy was new to Hawkins High, Eddie hadn’t noticed her much. She immediately became popular, joined the cheer squad and had a dozen jocks hanging on to her every move. Just another cheer clone.

But when Cathy came to the picnic table in the woods to buy weed for the first time he noticed that they actually had some things in common.

Despite being a cheerleader she liked metal, she smoked on occasion to relax and she also came from a broken home – she had come to Hawkins to live with her older cousin because her parents split and none of them wanted to be saddled with her.

Not that he and Y/N didn’t have things in common. On the contrary – they had a lot in common. Y/N loved metal, just like he did, she was a member of Hellfire and even though she wasn’t a part of Corroded Coffin she had named herself the stylist of the band, helping them with their outfits for every show.

Y/N was everything he could ever wish for.

And yet he found himself wanting more.

Every time Cathy waved at him, wanted to exhange a mixtape with him or asked if he was free for business, he felt a pang of triumph, when the jocks seemed speechless, that the new, popular girl, spoke to the freak without shame.

Y/N didn’t say anything about it, at first. Not until Cathy started calling him, and talking for hours. When he had to interrupt their date night to take her calls. When he had to go to a party to pick her up because it was boring and she didn’t have a ride home. When Eddie canceled a Hellfire session to go to a game instead, because Cathy had told him that her cousin couldn’t come watch and it would mean so much to her if someone she cared about was there.

”Eddie, you can be friends with whomever you want, but this isn’t okay,” Y/N had told him, ”this isn’t about friendship. She clearly wants you, and is trying to take you away from me. And by not putting up boundaries you are telling her it’s okay to do that – to me, and to our relationship.” ”That’s not true, sweetheart,” Eddie had said. ”She’s just... she just moved here and you know all the cheerleaders and jocks come from perfect white picket fence lives. She doesn’t, and she needs someone that has gone through the same.”

”You’re oblivious to think that,” Y/N had said. ”Just because you’re popular it doesn’t mean you don’t have any problems. But that’s neither here nor there. Do you seriously think it’s okay to cancel date nights with me to be with her? I’m your girlfriend.”

”Exactly,” Eddie had snapped at her, ”you’re my girlfriend. I thought you would trust me enough to know I would never cheat on you.”

Y/N had sighed and hadn’t said anything else. Eddie had felt a bit bad, because he had to admit she had a point. He promised himself that he would be more attentive to Y/N, make it up to her.

Until Cathy told him that she had managed to get tickets to a concert at the next town. Would he like to come with her? She didn’t want to go herself, since there could be a lot of dangers to a lonely girl. She didn’t know anyone else well enough. Of course Eddie said yes.

And canceled another date night with Y/N, without thinking about it. He would make it up to her.

Soon.

He never did. And now it was too late to go back.

When he canceled another date night, this time on their anniversary, because Cathy had called him, asking him to teach her how to play D&D, Y/N had actually become angry.

”You choose to spend our anniversary with another girl? How is that supposed to makes me feel?! Or do you not care about that anymore?” she had said, her voice broken.  

”It’s important that Hellfire grows, you know that,” he had told Y/N when he left. He hadn’t even offered to drop her off at her place, he had been so eager to show Cathy, a popular girl, his life’s passion, another middle finger to the ones calling him freak and satanist.

When he came home Y/N wasn’t there anymore though, and Wayne had been waiting for him, giving him a stern talking to.

”Y/N is a lovely girl, and you’re hurting her,” he had told Eddie. ”If you don’t want to be with her anymore – even if you would be a fool not to – then break up with her and let her move on. Don’t do this, whatever the hell this is, to her.”

Wayne hadn’t said anything else, but the disappointment in his gaze had made Eddie feel like the worst human on the planet.

That had soon turned to fury, though, thinking that Y/N had sold him out to his uncle and had drove to her place the next day, all but cornering her against a wall in her room.

”If you got a problem, take it up with me, like a grown up,” he had said loudly, almost yelling, ”don’t go behind my back and blab to my uncle about it.”

”I haven’t said a word to Wayne,” Y/N said calmly, ”maybe he has just noticed your shitty behavior, since you make no effort to hide it.”

”What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

”It means that you clearly don’t care about me and our relationship anymore. That’s how it feels. I mean it this time, Eddie. I’ve had it. I won’t be your girlfriend if I’m second best. It’s not about if you would cheat, I know you wouldn’t do that. Physically. But you already are cheating emotionally and I won’t take it anymore. You have to pick. Me. Or her.”

Eddie got even more furious, if possible, when she accused him of cheating. That was something his father had done, and Eddie had sworn he would never be like his father. Y/N knew it too, so that she told him this... it was like she had slapped him.

”You’re a fucking idiot,” he growled. ”The fact that you behave like this – maybe that’s why I prefer to hang out with Cathy instead of you, ever thought of that?”

He regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but he had no chance to apologize because Y/N’s eyes had gone cold like Lover’s Lake in the winter months.

”Get out,” she said.

”Wait, sweetheart, I...”

”Get. Out.”

How he wished he could take those words back. All of it.

Eddie had left, thinking that he should let her cool off and then come back with some flowers and apologize.

He even decided to tell Cathy that they needed to take a little break from each other.

What he hadn’t expected was for her to open the door in nothing but a towel, after he had called her to say he was going to come by, asking him if he liked what he saw.

”What the... no, Cathy, this is all wrong, I’m with Y/N and I love her.”

Cathy snorted. ”You love her? Then why are you so eager to get away from her, spending every waking moment with me? Come on, we’re already a couple in all but name. Y/N is the past.”

When Cathy laid it out for him it had hit him like a bucket of cold water. He had neglected Y/N, he had chosen Cathy over her, he had... except for actually doing what Cathy now tempted him to do, he had cheated on her.

He got hot and cold all over. ”No, she’s not,” he got out, and ran from Cathy’s porch, throwing himself in the van.

He drove back to Y/N’s place and frantically knocked on her door, wanting to tell her how sorry he was, that he would never do this again, that she was his future and he realized that now.

Y/N opened herself, a box in her arms. ”Oh, good,” she said, her voice revealing nothing. ”Here.”

She gave the box to Eddie and he got so surprised he forgot all about the apologies he was supposed to make.

”What’s this?” he wondered, looking down into the box. Once again he got cold all over. It was tapes he had made Y/N, her Hellfire shirt, a stuffed little bat he had won her at the arcade, a necklace he had saved up to to give her on her birthday, one of his Black Sabbath t-shirts...

”What’s... what’s this?” he got out, in a whole different tone.

”Stuff from you,” Y/N answered. ”I started getting it together last week, but I was thinking that if you made the right choice today, I would pack them up again, and we could move on. But you didn’t, so here we are. You’ve both made this harder and easier for me, dragging this out like this. I knew you weren’t going to pick me, but...”

”But I do!” Eddie cried out. ”I was at Cathy’s just now and I was going to tell her... you were right! She was trying to seduce me, but I didn’t... I don’t want her, I want you!”

”Too bad you couldn’t figure that out earlier,” Y/N said. ”You’ve treated me like shit for weeks, Eddie. I never thought you would do that to me. Not you. And I at least thought you would take it serious when I told you how hurt I was, even if you didn’t think Cathy was trying to seduce you. But you said I was an idiot instead.”

”I didn’t mean...”

”I don’t care,” Y/N interrupted. ”I... I can’t believe it has come to this. Why you would do this to us? We had it all planned out. But clearly it wasn’t enough for you. I wasn’t enough for you.”

”You are!” Eddie yelled, tears now streaming down his face, ”baby, please… please, forgive me. I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you!”

”You say that now,” Y/N told him, shaking her head, ”but what happens when next exciting girl comes along? Maybe someone that will offer you a record contract? Or someone that can join the band in ways I can, since I don't play music. What then? Am I going to be second best again then?”

”No!”

”I don’t believe you. And that’s why we can’t be together anymore, Eddie. I won’t spend my life waiting and wondering when I’ll become second best again. I’d rather find someone that treats me right, all the time. It’s over. We’re done.”

”But...”

”We’re done, Eddie. Please, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Eddie wanted to protest some more, trying to convince her, but it was then he took an actual look at her and noticed that, unlike him, she didn’t cry, her voice didn’t tremble. She was completely emotionless. Had he done this to her?  He had. By making her feel like she wasn’t good enough. By making her feel like the second-choice and breaking her trust.

Despite everything, Eddie still held some crazy hope that Y/N would call him when he got home and  tell him she was willing to give him another chance.

That was, until he saw a box on the couch in the living room and asked Wayne what it was.

”Y/N’s things,” his uncle replied, with the same dull tone that Y/N had used. ”She called me and asked me to collect them and bring them to her.”

She had asked Wayne, and not him...

That’s when Eddie realized that it wouldn’t matter how much he apologized. Some things couldn’t be undone.

Later that night when he cried in his room, Y/N’s Hellfire shirt pressed against his face, inhaling her scent, he remembered what Cathy had said – that Y/N was the past. She had been right. But not because of Cathy, but because of him.

He had ruined the best thing in his life on his own. And he couldn’t take it back.

Some things you just can’t take back.

[dudeinchains]

Part of being a man is knowing how to act.

Being the "sleazy stoner punk" type is great and all, but there's still limitations. You want to be liked after all, don't you?

Your brothers don't much appreciate it when you make a snide remark about their favorite band, even if it's basic. They also may not like that you claim to know more about the scene than them.

Shit like that needs correction, boy. Don't be surprised when you're tied down to someone's bed at the house show, you need to be taught a lesson after all.

When you're done you'll be a better man for it. :-)

[bluewatersfairy]

distraction - j.p.

a/n: this one's for everyone in my inbox, I see all your messages and I love y'all 😭

synopsis: late night studying very quickly turned into needing a distraction which may come in the form of a fwb!

warnings: mature content, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex (wrap it, then tap it), dom!reader, sub!jordan if you squint lots

word count: 2.6k (writing under 3k is crazy for me)

p.s. it's been ages since I've written something in one night so I genuinely have had no time to consider if this is good or not (oh and this is not proof read)

•••

“You sounded urgent on the phone?” Jordan inquired as you opened the door and grabbed his arm to pull him inside.  He’d come over in record time, but it still wasn’t quick enough.  

“It is urgent,” you said, putting your hands on his waist and pushing him to sit on your couch.  “Have you had sex with anyone recently?”

Your hands were in your hair, carefully moving it to be so it wasn’t in the way.  Jordan stared up at you, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips sitting pouted.  “What do you mean?”

“It’s a yes or no,” you said, lowering to your knees in front of him, “answer me.”  You braced your hands on his thighs and for the first time actually looked him in the eyes since he’d arrived.  He’d clearly picked up on your rush and desperation, you could see a familiar sparkle in his eyes, but he still looked deeply confused. 

“I haven’t,” he breathed out slowly, “just you.”  He gave you a little half smirk and watched as you stood again, sliding into his lap with ease.

His hands immediately went to grip at your hips and you carefully took his glasses off, popping them on the foot stool that was by the arm of the couch.  He watched you attentively, waiting for you to be face to face with him again.  

“Rough day?” he asked as you ran your hand up his neck to cup his face.  You let your thumb brush over his bottom lip and the two of you held eye contact.  His eyes not so subtly glanced between your eyes and your lips, his mind wandering off at the sight of your gloss.  He couldn’t tell if that was what smelt so good or if it was just you. 

“If I stare at my assignment any longer, my head might explode.”  You tilted his head slightly and waited to see if he was going to give you any type of resistance or if he was just along for the ride.  You took a few moments to look over his face and compose yourself.  Less than a minute ago he’d knocked on your apartment door and now you were straddling him on your couch.  A lot can happen in 60 seconds.

“I like being your distraction,” he smirked before you leant forward and connected your lips with his.  

He met your greedy kiss with the same type of energy straight away, his mouth opening and letting you take control of him.  It was rushed and hot, desperation dripping off of you.  It felt like the first time all over again, like you weren’t quite sure where to put your hands or what part of him you wanted to feel most.  You loved his lips on yours but they could do so much damage wherever they landed.  He just knew what to do to drive you insane and as much as that was what you wanted, you needed control.

You pushed on his shoulder as you tried to get some leverage on him and without meaning to, rocked your hips on top of his.  He let out a strangled moan and your lips broke away from one another.  His arms wrapped around your torso and he buried his face in your neck.  The tip of his nose rubbed against the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck while his lips sloppily kissed and grabbed at you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned out as you pressed your hips against his again, “you smell so good.”

You weren’t sure if it was what he said or his hot breath on your neck but you needed more contact with him.  Your hand went back to his neck and you pushed his head back again.  He leant against the back of the couch and seemingly waited for you to kiss him again.  

“Take your hoodie off,” you sat back on his lap as you spoke, “shirt too.”

Jordan didn’t make a move straight away so instead you pulled your shirt off.  He had this look on his face that almost looked like admiration, it didn’t really make sense considering, but once your shirt was gone he was pulling his hoodie off over his head.  He lifted his knees slightly and pulled you closer to him.  His hand reached for the back of your bra while he danced his lips across your chest. 

“You’re in a mood today,” he mumbled against your collarbone before he let his teeth playfully nip your smooth skin, “I like it.”

You rolled your eyes as he undid your bra and let the straps fall down your arms before tossing it away with the rest of your clothes.  You went to say something about how you really didn’t care what he liked but instead were cut off by his lips attaching to your nipple and his large hands palming your tits.  

“Shit,” you sighed, “I don’t have all night, J.  I got deadlines.”  He groaned with your tit still in his mouth before pulling away.  You took the chance to lift yourself up to pull the pair of NRL shorts you had on down and Jordan awkwardly pulled his grey sweats off by only lifting his hips off of the couch.  

“I need a second,” Jordan took a breath as you sat down on his lap again.  He could feel the heat radiating from your core and it was making his heart race.  But his hard-on had barely had time to grow, a lot was happening very quickly and he felt like he physically wasn’t at the same place he was mentally.

Knowing Jordan, you spat on your hand and reached under you to pick up his shaft and kissed him again.  You licked into his mouth and slowly rubbed your hand against his dick.  He let out quiet moans into your mouth and you tried to pull him closer to you.  His hands gripped on your ass and thighs and he melted into you.  

“Is that enough?” you asked breathlessly between a few soft pecks.  Jordan nodded quickly and you let your thumb brush over his tip, collecting the precum he had started to leak.  

You smiled at him and popped your thumb in your mouth, tasting him before reaching between the two of you again.  

“You don’t need anything?” Jordan asked as you lined his cock up with your opening, “it feels weird not going down on you.”

“Shut up,” you said half playfully as you pushed his face back again.  He laughed a little and the two of you shared a smile before you lowered your hips on to him, “you’re a giver, a real gentleman, we get it.”  

Sinking on top of him gave you a rush like no other.  The slight curve of his tip meant that he always managed to drag against your g-spot when you were on top.  It was the easiest way for you to get off and that was part of why it was your favourite way to have Jordan.  Not to mention the face time you got meant that the two of you were forced to connect with one another emotionally, not just physically.  It was a nice arrangement, it felt right, in the weirdest way. 

“God, you feel good baby,” you smiled at Jordan as you braced your hands on his broad shoulders.  

Jordan almost missed what you’d said.  He had his eyes closed and his eyebrows furrowed and seemed to be really concentrating.  And he was.  Over and over again in his head he was repeating the same words: don’t bust quick.  This wasn’t the first time he’d been inside of you without protection, but it had been a few weeks since the two of you had hooked up and feeling how wet and hot you were was not helping his case.  You were paradise, but he was here for you and had to at least try and last a decent amount of time before he let go.

“God damn,” he cussed when his eyes met yours, “I might just be infatuated with you after all this.”

“Oh you best be,’ you grinned as you leant up to kiss him again.  It was just a quick peck, but Jordan made it clear he was expecting more.  “Quiet now, Pretty boy, I’m tryna do something.”  

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you pulled your hips up, feeling him drag against your walls before pushing yourself back down again.  The first few times were more to feel him, you wanted it to be nice and slow just to drive him a little bit crazy.  It was clearly working too, he was hissy in your ear and gripping your hips tight, though he made no move to take over.

Once your speed picked up, he offered some assistance but you were completely in control.  You moved your body against him, feeling every inch of his dick and getting lost in the sounds you were pulling out of him.  The air was thick with your arousal and the sounds of your ass against his thighs.  

“Oh my god,” you called out loudly as you felt his head twitch inside you.  You paused your hips and gripped Jordan’s shoulders again, digging your nails into his skin, before you rolled your hips to get some traction for you.  

“I’m not gonna cum,” Jordan choked out, his head leaning back and his eyes focused on the ceiling.  You smirked and rolled your hips again which sent a jolt through his body.  “I’m not ruining this for you baby, just give me a second.”

You giggled a little and rolled your hips again, seeing the exact same reaction from him, “you’re not ruining anything honey,” you cooed.  He made eye contact with you briefly but that sent another jolt through his body and he pulled his eyes back to the ceiling.  

“If you wanna cum you can,” you said sweetly, your lips leaning down to kiss his heaving chest.  You dragged your lips up his pecs and left opened mouthed kisses trailing up to his neck.  “Nothing’s stopping me tonight.”  

Very carefully you sucked the skin below his ear lobe, pulling a throaty groan from him.  You only pulled away when you were sure you’d left a little mark and blew cool air on it.  You’d always wanted to leave your mark on him, a part of you interested to see how the internet would react and the other feeling proud that you could get a big name like Jordan Poole acting like a lost boy.    

“You’re a fucking problem,” he groaned as your eyes connected again, his moment of weakness clearly having passed.

“You thought this was gonna be easy?” you teased with a smile.  He reacted by smacking your ass before tightening his grip on your hips.

Again, you pulled yourself up and started to rock against him at a steady rhythm.  Your words had seemingly relaxed Jordan and he was just gonna let whatever happen.  It was just about you now and you accepted that with a smile.

Feeling him twitch against your walls sent hot flashes throughout your body.  Your g-spot was being stimulated more and more with each passing moment.  You hadn’t noticed but the heat coming off of his raging tip added an extra sensation to your experience.  Usually at a time like this you’d pull away from whoever and get them to play with your clit or you’d do it yourself, but this was a better feeling.  You were getting wetter the more you worked to get it just right.

“I’m about to cum,” you let out between pants and you adjusted your legs quickly to make it easier to go quicker.  The new angle put your tits in Jordan’s face and he immediately started to give them attention, driving you closer to the edge.

“Your clit,” Jordan suddenly said between movements, “does it need-shit.”  He cut himself off as something like lightning struck through him again.  

“Cum inside me J,” you encouraged, your own head being thrown back as you moved quickly.  You were burning up and were hyper aware of his every touch.  He’d never finished inside before but it felt like the right moment, you didn’t want to part ways with him and you wanted to feel him come undone.  

“Gah, are you sure?” his puppy dog eyes found yours for a second, he needed proper confirmation.

“You’re not allowed to pull out,” you argued back, “shit, shit, shit.”

You pushed Jordan’s shoulders back again and used every instinct you had to ride on top of him.  He spurted out a loud string of cuss words and inaudible claims as he let his head fall back against the couch.  You felt him twitch inside and waves of heat flow through you.  The sounds coming from your bodies was becoming louder, wetter, and you knew you were almost there.  You changed your movements slightly so there was more friction in your movements and you knew you were done.

“You look so fucking good right now,” Jordan choked out, “you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

Even in his fucked-out blissful state, Jordan found your clit blindly and fumbled to rub it just to give you a little more stimulation.  He knew it was what was going to send you over and like magic, your name was falling from his lips mixed with loud moans.  You came on top of him, your sex mixing with his and making more of a mess between your thighs.  You rode out your high, your body arching and legs fighting to stay open.

After the final jolt, you let yourself relax against Jordan’s chest.  You could hear his heart beating rapidly and it made you laugh a little.  You weren’t sure how long you sat there with him still inside you.  It was definitely longer than the time it took for him to walk in your front door for you to get him naked.  

“When’s your deadline?” he asked, breaking the silence and pulling you out of your little dreamworld.

“Tomorrow morning at 9am,” you replied, glancing at the clock behind him.  “Why?”

He checked his own watch quickly before brushing some of your hair out of your face, “I’m stickin’ around until everything’s done.  Just in case you need this again, or someone to talk to.”

Someone to talk to, that was how this whole situationship had started up.  One night he’d just been around past midnight and suddenly you were making out with him, and then you were naked, and then he was asking where you keep your condoms.  Life comes at you fast sometimes.  

“I guess you can stick around, you’ve probably got clothes here anyways.”  You kissed him quickly and smiled before carefully standing up, still on the couch.  Unexpectedly, Jordan gave your hand a kiss before helping you get down safely.  You pulled him up and the two of you walked to the bathroom, grabbing a few cloths from your linen cupboard along the way. 

“You should be like that more often,” Jordan commented from the shower while you were sitting on the toilet.  He was just turning the hot water on when you made eye contact with him.

“Like what?”

“Y’know,” he smirked, “in charge.  It’s hot, I like it.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up from the toilet, checking to make sure you weren’t going to leak anymore if you put on a clean pair of pj pants.  

“I’m going back to my assignment,” you said after washing your hands, “I’ll call on you if I need another distraction.”

“I’ll be ready,” he smirked and saluted you before you stepped out, pulling the door closed behind you. 

[sinful-skeptic]

Religious conservatives love talking about trans people “mutilating their genitals” and then go off to circumcise their children without their consent 😇

[ahyperactivehero]

newest chapter of I (Just) Survived In Your Arms Tonight is up now!

looks like the boys have finally, properly met!

XXX

Charles Rowland doesn't die in that attic. Surprisingly little changes as a result.

X

He didn’t notice when the world went dark. Or when Edwin’s arms around him disappeared as everything faded away. He didn’t notice the sound of one of his teachers coming up the stairs, shoes banging in panic as he searched for Charles.

The only thing he noticed was Edwin’s voice, gently soothing him as he drifted off. “You are going to be alright. Help is here. You are going to be fine, Charles.”

His heart nearly stopped when Edwin’s voice disappeared.

[veronicaphoenix]

✨ A little something with samurai!noah coming this weekend:

Noah shook his head, his expression determined. “No. There has to be a way to do this without hurting you.”

I'm also planning on updating Zutto next week at some point :)

[rain-ghoul-appreciator]

in honor of trans visibility day, i present to you some trans ghouls shenanigans.

they/them transmasc rain, he/him transmasc swiss, she/her transfem mountain, and she/her transfem aurora

under the cut or on AO3

"rory, get me that lipstick, will you?" 

aurora looks up from her nails, seeing rain holding a hand out towards the lipstick. she sighed and looked towards swiss.

"swissy, my nails are still wet, can you get it, pretty please?" she asked, giving him the biggest, saddest, wettest puppy eyes ever. swiss groaned.

"but im not done with mounty's hair," swiss whined, tying off another little braid. mountain looked over her shoulder, shooting swiss a playful glare.

"who are you to deny rain of their wants," she teased, reaching for the lipstick. she tossed it rain's way, a wide smile on her lips. 

"at least someone in this room appreciates me," they muttered, popping the cap of the lipstick off. 

"excuse me? who just bought you those new shoes?" swiss retorted, "and i got you taco bell last night! oh, and don't forget that lotion thing you wanted!" rain laughed, rolling their eyes.

"whatever," they mumbled, turning to face the mirror. aurora watched the two bicker, her brows furrowed.

"so you'll get rainy taco bell but you wont get me chicken nuggets?"

"oh, come on, it was one time," swiss argued, his lips forming a pout. 

"one time to many," aurora countered, checking to see if her nails were dry yet. 

"if you two keep arguing about some damn chicken nuggets i will lace my next batch of brownies with laxatives and hand feed them to you," mountain butted in, a playful smirk on her face. both aurora and swiss instantly went quiet. 

"will you at least make a normal batch for me?" rain asked, looking over at mountain with a pleading look. 

"of course i will," mountain replied, "anything for my little prince." a shit eating grin spread across rain's face as they look at swiss and aurora's betrayed expressions. 

"traitor," aurora mumbled, looking into her little handheld mirror. "also, i meed help with my hair."

"what did i ever do to you?" rain muttered, rolling their eyes and moving to sit behind aurora, their nimble fingers already tangled into her hair before she could even respond. 

"nothing," aurora sighed, lightly powdering blush on her face. rain giggled quietly, grabbing the curling iron from the vanity. 

"im gonna need that soon," swiss said after a while, gesturing to the curling iron. 

"okay, almost... done," rain replied, a smile on their face as they handed the iron off to swiss. aurora smiled at her reflection, messing with her freshly curled hair. 

"thanks rainy-" her and swiss said in unison before turning and glaring at each other. 

"jinx! fuck! jinx again!" they, again, said in unison. mountain giggled, poking swiss to make him stop. 

"im serious about the laxatives," mountain warned, leaning her head back against swiss's chest. 

"right, sorry, mi amor," swiss mumbled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to mountain's forehead. she smiled, reaching back to tug swiss down for a proper kiss. rain rolled their eyes playfully.

"i thought we were gonna celebrate swiss's dick, not your marriage." rain looked over at the two, trying their best to hold back a giggle. 

"aww, are you jealous that i have a dick and a hot wife?" swiss teased, getting up and wrapping his arms around rain.

"no," rain lied, busying himself with putting away the unused makeup stuff.

"i'd give you my dick if i could," aurora teased, leaning her head back against rain's stomach. rain giggled and leaned back against swiss. 

"mountain, help! im being bullied," rain whined, reaching out for mountain. mountain laughed and shook her head before standing up. 

"what do you want me to do about it?" mountain teased, leaning against swiss's back. rain pouted, trying their best to look back at mountain. 

"anything, just get me out of this dick sandwich," rain begged. both swiss and aurora broke out into a fit of laughter.

"a dick- a dick sandwich?" aurora wheezed, leaning back further against rain. 

"what the hell is a dick sandwich," swiss questioned, his voice broken up by giggles. 

"i don't know," rain whined, giggling quietly. "mountain- ahh!" they yelped as aurora leaned to far back in the chair, sending them all toppling backwards. they were all silent for a second before bursting out into laughter. 

upon hearing the loud thump, aether poked his head into the room, surprised (and a little unsettled) to see all 4 ghouls tangled together on the ground, staring at him like a bunch of deer in headlights. he blinked once before slowly backing away, shutting the door quietly.

"why am i never invited to these things," he murmured, flopping back down on the couch next to a sleeping cumulus. 

"cause you're gay!" aurora jokingly shouted from the room before being consumed by the giggles again. 

legend says aether never recovered after that. 

[virescent-v]

Bars & Bets

A/N: A bar, a bet, and one night of absolute debauchery.

Emily Prentiss x reader (includes y/n). 18+ ONLY. Warnings: use of pet names, graphic detail of sex, some dom/sub themes, use of restraints.

Word Count: 5,798

You could feel the bass of the club music rushing through your chest, your heart galloping to speed up to match the pace. There was something so electrifying about being surrounded by people of all types, dancing, having a good time. You didn’t need to know their stories, hell, even their names, to have a good time. 

After the week you’ve had, all you want is a stiff drink (or four) and to let loose. If you found someone to spend a few songs with, or even the night with, that was fine by you. But it wasn’t what you were worried about looking for. 

Making your way to the overcrowded bar, you pulled on the hem of the little red dress you were wearing. It was shorter than you were used to wearing, but you couldn’t deny how sexy it made you feel. It showcased your strong thighs and made your legs look like they went on for days. Matched with the high heels you were wearing, your makeup a tad darker and smokier than normal, you knew you were going to turn heads tonight. Men and women. 

While you appreciated the hungry gaze of men, the way their eyes would travel over you, hopeful glints in their eyes that they would be the lucky one to take you home, you had no interest. It was the lustful gaze of women, the softness of their skin, the sounds you could pull from their throats, that made you a needy mess. 

Flagging down the bartender, you ordered a simple vodka cran. Easy enough to sip on while your eyes peered around the bar. While there were a few hopeful men looking at you, none of them caught your gaze enough to consider entertaining them for a free drink. As your eyes traveled back to the other end of the bar, you noticed you were being stared at by two people, together. 

One was tall, dark, and handsome. His eyes traveled over you, stopping to linger on your chest. You could tell he was the type to go after a woman, be incredibly charming, get her back to her place, and be gone before she woke up. Likely to never be heard from again. You could see other women in the bar mustering up the courage to even go talk to him, but he was staring at you. And while that was a nice thought, you were more interested in the stunning brunette beside him. 

She was breathtaking. Dark hair and even darker eyes. A killer smile. Slightly taller than you, but still fairly petite. She had this air about her that screamed ‘dominant.’ While her stance was confident, you could tell that she wasn’t really in her element in this place. She was more of a dive-bar, dimly lit, pool tables and beer kind of girl. She was wearing black pants that were incredibly tight and a white blouse, unbuttoned enough that you could see the edge of a lacy black bra peeking through. 

You could tell the two of them were friends. There wasn’t much exaggerated chemistry between them. While the man was staring at you, the woman kept glancing at you, but was talking to him. It seemed like she was egging him on, almost as if it was a dare. You couldn’t wait for him to make his way to you. Hopefully you could get a free drink out of him before you crushed his hopes of taking you home. 

Finishing your first drink, you turned back to the bar, flagging down the bartender. 

“How about I buy you your next drink, baby girl?” 

You smiled to yourself before schooling your features and turning around to face him. Bingo. 

You looked up at the man that you had seen staring at you from across the bar. A bright smile on his face. You could see how women wanted him. “That would be nice, thanks. I’m y/n,” you said, reaching out for his hand. 

“Derek. Nice to meet you, beautiful.” 

His hand was warm, but you felt nothing. You decided to have a little more fun with him before sending him on his way. “So, Derek, who’s the girl over there that was betting you to come over here?” 

His laugh was deep, barely audible over the loud music of the bar. He gestured back over to the woman in question. You caught her eyes, smiling as she blushed a bit, as if she knew you two were talking about her. “That’s Emily. She’s just a friend from work. She didn’t want to come out  alone tonight.” 

You turned back to Derek. “So, you came over here and left her alone? Not a very good wingman if you ask me,” you said, eyebrow raised. 

Derek raised his hands a little. “She can take care of herself.” 

You glanced back over to the beautiful brunette. “I’m sure she can,” you mumbled. 

You turned back to Derek as you felt his hand settle on your hip. “So, baby girl, how about a dance?” 

You almost felt bad for what you were about to do. Almost. 

“Derek, while a dance sounds lovely, I’m actually not interested.” You said, removing his hand from where it was starting to caress your side. 

His eyebrows scrunched up adorably. He looked utterly confused, as if he wasn’t used to women avoiding and denying his advances. 

You looked at him, giving him a little smile as you said, “While I enjoy your company, Derek, I am far more interested in that beautiful coworker of yours, if you catch my drift. Plus, there is a stunning blonde on the other side of the bar that has been staring daggers into my head since you walked over here. I think she might be the better option for you tonight.” 

Derek laughed loudly, his head thrown back a little. “Fair enough, y/n. It was nice meeting you. And tell Emily I owe her twenty bucks.” 

“I will,” you laughed. “Have a great night, Derek.” 

“You too, y/n. Take care of her, yeah? It’s been a rough week.” 

You raised your glass to him, sauntering over to where he’d left Emily. She was sitting at a table, watching you with curious eyes as you approached. She hadn’t moved from her spot and no one had joined her. For that, you were thankful. 

“Derek says he owes you twenty dollars,” you said with a smile. “I’m y/n.” 

Her face immediately lit up with a smile as she tossed her hair back from her face with a laugh. Now that laugh, it did something to you. But nothing like her voice did. “I love betting against him. I hardly ever lose,” she said. Her voice was deep enough to send chills down your spine.

You took a sip of your drink, your curiosity getting the best of you. “And what was this bet I was seemingly a part of?” 

Emily smirked at you, looking you up and down a little. You felt your cheeks heat up a little under the scrutiny. “I bet him that he couldn’t get you to dance with him. That you would turn him down in under five minutes. I was right.” 

You laughed, not surprised that she was able to read you so well. Something about her told you that she was great at reading people, just like you were. “That’s a good bet. If you had only bet that I would much prefer your company than his, you could’ve doubled your win,” you said, letting your eyes travel down her body, lingering on her chest, before sliding down to her pants, which you could now tell were leather. You licked your lips. You wanted to touch, slide your hands up them. 

When you looked back up, Emily was looking at you with a mix of awe and lust. Like she didn’t think you’d be so forward. It made you giddy with the anticipation of what could happen tonight, if she was willing. You were curious to see if she was as dominant as you thought she’d be, or if she’d surprise you and let you take control for the night. 

“Do you want to dance with me, y/n?” 

You smiled as you finished off your drink. “After you, Emily.” 

She grabbed your hand and led you out onto the dance floor, pulling you into the sea of people already out there pulsating and sweaty to the thick beats of the music. You started off facing her, your arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders, moving your hips to the music. You could feel how tense she was, as if she’d never really danced with another woman at a club before. Leaning in, you whispered in her ear, “Relax for me, Emily. Feel the music, feel me, and let go.” 

Emily’s hands shot up to your hips, feeling them sway left and right. Eventually, she started to move with you, her movements a little choppy at first. You grinned at her, pulling her closer to you, essentially forcing her hips to move with and against yours. You could feel the goosebumps erupt over her skin at your proximity. As the song progressed, you could feel Emily start to fully relax into the music, letting her body lead you both in a dance that was leaving you breathless. 

As the song transitioned from one with a heavy bass line to one with much sexier r-n-b vibe, Emily leaned in close to you and said, “turn around,” with such a note of authority that you didn’t imagine saying no. 

Once you turned around, Emily grabbed your hips and pulled you back into her. Your ass nestled tightly against her front, your back pressed against her chest. You could feel her hardened nipples through both layers of your clothing. Your chest started heaving. You knew she was dominant and you were excited to see more of her controlling side. 

You started moving your hips, whining and grinding against the solid body behind you. Your one hand gripped Emily’s thigh behind you, pulling her impossibly closer to you. You could feel her  breath on your neck, it sending shivers down your spine. You let out an inaudible gasp as Emily leaned closer and started kissing her way up your neck, stopping to whisper in your ear, loud enough to be heard over the music. “Such a tease, wearing such a short dress. Tell me, y/n, are you even wearing anything underneath it?” 

Your head leaned back against the strong shoulder behind you. Emily’s one hand remained on your hips, forcing you to keep up with the music, while the other started to roam. Thankfully, with how packed the club was, no one was really paying attention as her hand ghosted over your chest. You moaned out loud when her hand constricted around your throat. “Answer me, pretty girl.” 

From where your head was leaned back against her shoulder, you just turned it to the side to whisper in her ear. If she wanted to tease, you could, too. “No, Em. No panties. You would’ve ruined them by now anyways.” 

Emily quickly turned you around to face her, an almost evil glint in her eyes, her tongue wetting her lips. Her hand came back up to your face, running her thumb across your lips. Emily’s breath caught in her throat as you intensely connected your eyes, sucking her thumb into your mouth, running your tongue around it. Emily moved her hand back down to your throat, squeezing gently, while looking at you. “Naughty girl, going commando under this dress. What if someone sees what is so clearly mine?” 

You looked at Emily faux-innocently, batting your eyelashes. “Well, maybe, you should take me home and prove it is yours, then.” 

Emily smirked at you, before turning you back around in her arms. She forced your stance a little wider, thrusting one of her legs between yours. You could feel the heat of her leg pressed up against your uncovered pussy, knowing you were leaving a trail of juices on the leather of her thigh. It made you whimper as you started to grind against her. 

“Or, y/n, how about I make you so wet, so needy, right here in the middle of this dance floor, that you’re begging for me to take you here in front of all of these people?” 

You grinded down harder against her thigh, your movements sped up to match the pace of the beat of the music and the thumping of your pulse. If that’s what Emily was intending to do, you knew it wasn’t going to be long before you brought truth to what she said. 

Emily’s hands started trailing lightly across your body, the pressure never enough to satisfy, only to leave you wanting. When her hands gripped your hips and forced you down harder on her thigh, you couldn’t help the salacious moan that left your mouth. You could feel the dark chuckle Emily let out even if you couldn’t hear it. “Such a greedy little slut. Rubbing yourself against me in a room full of people. I bet you want them all to watch you come undone against me.” 

Oh, god. You didn’t have an exhibitionist bone in your body, but the thought of other people watching you as you came apart at Emily’s hands was enough to make your arousal pound throughout your body. 

This time, you did hear Emily laugh. “I knew it. Such a whore. Too bad no one will watch you come except for me, understood?” Emily growled at you. 

“Yes, ma’am, I understand,” you panted, trying to turn around to catch her lips. 

Except Emily had such a grip on your hips it was impossible to turn around. All you wanted right now was to kiss her, have her smother your moans with her lips.

“Em, kiss me, please,” you said, still trying to catch her in a kiss. 

She laughed against your neck, her lips slowly grazing over the sensitive skin there. “That’s what I’m doing, pretty girl.” 

You let out a frustrated groan, “that’s not what I mean and you know it.” 

“I know, baby. But be a good girl for me and keep dancing against me,” Emily said, as she pulled you tighter against her. 

Every sense of yours seemed to be heightened. You could feel the music in your chest, you could smell Emily’s perfume, feel her hands gripping tightly to you, feel the whisper of her breath on the skin of your neck. All of it was beginning to be almost too much. You could feel yourself getting wetter as each moment passed. All you wanted was for Emily to kiss you, take you home, and then take you. 

You were hardly able to get any friction from grinding against Emily’s leg, her pants being coated in your essence. You tried to grind down harder, faster, anything to get you some relief, but nothing was working. 

As if she could feel your frustration rising, Emily finally turned you around towards her, breaking the contact between you and her leg. “You look so pretty when you’re desperate, y/n,” she said, winding a hand into the hair at the base of your neck, pulling your faces closer together. Her breath was hot against yours, both of you worked up, your panting almost matching the thumping of your racing pulse. 

“Emily, please-” you started. 

Before you could finish begging, Emily crashed your lips together. The kiss was sloppy, teeth and tongues crashing against each other. You only pulled away once you needed some air. “Take me home, now, Emily. Please.” You didn’t care about pleading anymore. You just needed her to touch you. Make you come. However she wanted to, it didn’t matter, as long as you got to. 

Wordlessly, Emily grabbed your hand, dragging you from the bar. Before you made it out of the club, you caught a teasing glint from Derek. He raised his glass to you in a silent cheers as Emily pulled you through the door. 

—-- 

The ride back to Emily’s apartment was littered with tantalizing touches. She kept it pretty tame, all things considered, as not to alert the driver. But, with how worked up you’d been at the club, every little touch drove you closer and closer to insanity. 

Emily had snuggled up close to your side, her breath hot and provoking at your ear. She kept whispering indecencies as her hand started teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You subtly thrusted your hips forward, trying to get her fingers closer to your core. 

“Tsk, tsk. Trying to get my fingers to touch your needy cunt in this cab? Such a bad girl, y/n,” Emily whispered. 

You had to catch the moan in your throat otherwise the driver would’ve definitely known what was happening in his backseat. You looked at Emily, a knowing, sinful grin on her face. It made you needier. “Please, Emily,” you whispered back, thrusting your hips more aggressively towards her fingers. She was right there. 

Emily growled, her grip on your thigh almost bruising. “No. Now stop before I have to remind you who’s in control tonight.” 

While you knew it would probably end in punishment, you couldn’t take the build up of pressure anymore. Your own hand started to travel down, teasing the skin on the opposite thigh that Emily had a grip on. The combination of slight pain and enticement of your feather light touch  was enough to force your hips to move again of their own volition. Your hand had just creeped under the edge of your dress before Emily grabbed your wrist in a forceful grasp, making you wince in pain. 

“I said no, y/n. You’ll pay for that when we get back to my place.” The look in Emily’s eye was dangerous, but you couldn’t help but be even more turned on. You were sure your juices were staining your dress at this point. 

When the cab pulled up to Emily’s, she almost pushed you out of the car. Grabbing your hand, she pulled you up the stairs and into her apartment, slamming the door behind her. Emily shoved you into the wall beside the entrance way, gripping your throat in her hands. While it was a little rough, it wasn’t anything you didn’t want, didn’t need. 

“Such a desperate, needy whore you were being during the cab ride. For that, you’ve just earned yourself a spanking, little one. Come with me,” she said, pulling you with her toward her bedroom. 

She stood at the end of her king size bed and turned to face you. “On your knees, princess.” 

You walked up to her before slowly lowering yourself to the floor, head angled down, palms up on your thighs. You decided not to try your luck tonight. You’d be Emily’s good girl by the end of the night, no matter what it took. 

Emily gripped your chin, tilting your face up to look at her. “You look so pretty on your knees for me, princess. You gonna be my good girl tonight?” She asked, thumb rubbing across your cheek. 

Your face heated up with a little blush from the way that she was looking at you. Like you were her favorite possession. You hadn’t known her long, but you were lucky your eyes met in that club tonight. You nodded before softly saying, “yes, ma’am. I want to be good for you.” 

Emily smiled so genuinely that you couldn’t help but smile back at her. It didn’t last long, however, once she gripped your hair in her fist tightly. She brought your face close to her leg, the one you had been grinding on at the club. “Look at my pants, y/n. Look how messy you’ve made them,” she tsked, sounding utterly disappointed. 

Looking up at her from your position on the floor, you couldn’t help but whimper at the look on her face. Emily was in control. She owned you. “What can I do to make it up to you, ma’am?” 

She smirked at you, for just a second, before bringing your face closer to her thigh. “Lick. Them. Clean.” 

The moan you let out was filthy. You quickly stuck out your tongue, not wanting to displease her. At the first contact, you could taste yourself. You knew you were wet at the bar, but you hadn’t realized it was so intense. Your tongue swirled around her thigh, licking up every leftover trace of you. The hand that had lifted your chin was now tangled in your hair, guiding your face around her thigh. She only pulled your head back once her leather pants were glossy with your saliva. “Stand up, pretty girl.” 

Emily helped pull you up from the floor, which you gave her a grateful smile for, since the hardwood left your knees a little aching. “Turn around.” 

Once you had, you felt Emily’s hands brush your hair to one side. Her lips ghosted over the back of your neck as she started to slowly pull down the zipper of your dress. With each click of the metal zip, her lips would brush your skin down your back. It was making you needy in a different kind of way. You could feel the affection of her kisses on your overheated skin. It made you wonder if Emily was a romantic as much as she was a domme. 

Once the zipper was completely undone, Emily pushed each side off your shoulders, letting the dress hit the floor. She turned you back around, taking in your completely nude form. The dress was too tight and too revealing to wear any sort of undergarments. 

Emily’s eyes traversed slowly across all of your exposed skin, taking longer to linger at your ample chest, the swell of your stomach, and the light curls between your legs. It was such a heavy gaze, you could feel the hunger in it, a fire spreading across your nerve endings. You weren’t sure what Emily was planning to do to you, but as long as you got to come, you really didn’t care. 

Making eye contact with you, Emily stripped off her own pants and shirt. She sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing at her lap. “Bend over, y/n. It’s time I make good on that spanking.” 

You took in a shuddering breath as you felt yourself grow wetter in anticipation. Laying yourself over her lap, you flicked your hair to one side, looking back over your shoulder at her. Emily’s heavy gaze was zoned into your tight ass. Her hands started to grip and pull at your cheeks, getting used to the feel of you in her hands. She glanced quickly at you, “Count them. If you stop or miscount, we start over.” 

You weren’t expecting the first smack against your ass to be so hard. You felt the ripple of your skin and knew that if she kept that pressure, you were going to have trouble sitting tomorrow. Lost in your own thoughts, you felt the next smack come down on your other cheek. “Looks like you just want more, don’t you, y/n?” Emily asked, smacking you hard on the same cheek she’d just hit.

“Shit,” you hissed. “One!” 

You could hear the devilish grin on Emily’s mouth. “Good job, princess.” 

You almost rolled your eyes at how arrogant she sounded. Before you could fire back, a swift slap against the bottom of your left cheek, close to your inner thigh reverberated throughout the room. “Two,” you groaned. 

The pain was intense, almost pushing the edge of being too much. You wiggled your hips a little on Emily’s lap, trying to rid yourself of some of the sting. Before you could really get too much relief, you felt a finger at your core. 

“Jesus, you’re so wet, baby.” Emily said, starting to play with your dripping juices. She rubbed her finger up and down, gathering your essence from your opening, spreading it around your lower lips, stopping only briefly to rub at your clit. The pressure was more playful than anything, not enough to get you off, but it was still welcomed. “Just a few more, sweetheart. Then I’ll make you come so hard you forget your own name,” Emily said. She pulled her hand away from your cunt, using that one to strike you again. The slickness of her finger adding to the sting against you. 

“Three,” you panted. You really hoped she was done at five. 

The next slap came down hard on the spot she’d already hit, the pain slicing through you quickly. You could only imagine how red your ass looked. “Four!” Your voice starting to turn hoarse from screaming. 

The last slap caught you the most off guard. Instead of striking you against the skin of your ass, Emily’s hand had mostly made contact with your sopping pussy lips. That one made you mostly moan out of arousal rather than pain. “Five, ma’am. Thank you.”

Emily used both hands to rub against your ass, massaging the reddened skin. “Good girl, taking those spanks so well.” She gripped both of your cheeks in her hands. “Your ass looks so good, pretty and red with my hand prints,” she whispered, admiring her own handy work. 

Emily helped pull you up, settling you down against her sheets, you wincing a little at how tender your backside was. Emily caught it. “You okay, y/n?” She looked a little concerned, which you didn’t want. 

“I’m good, Em,” you cleared your hoarse throat. “More than okay. I’ll let you know if it’s too much.” 

Emily smiled at you, before disappearing off the bed and into her closet. She returned with a shoe box of what you could only assume was fun things. 

Emily first pulled out a satin sleep mask, holding it up for your perusal. At your slight nod, she placed it over your eyes, rendering you unable to see. “If, at any point, you do not like what I am doing, I want you to safeword out. What do you want to use for your safeword?” 

You took a deep breath, licking your lips. “I use the stoplight method to check in, but ‘vanilla’ is my hard stop, ma’am.” 

“Good. If, at any point, you want to stop, you say vanilla or red or tap me anywhere on my body three times and I will stop. There will be no punishments for stopping or using your safeword. Understand?” Emily asked. 

You appreciated the check in. It wasn’t needed; you knew you could just say ‘stop’ and she would. Even with only knowing Emily for a few hours, you trusted her. “I understand. If I want to stop, I say vanilla, red, or tap you three times.” 

“Good girl.” 

Emily lifted your hands above your head, fastening them to the headboard with something soft, likely padded cuffs from what you could tell. 

Once she made sure they were secure, you could hear the snapping of a closure or bottle of some sort. Shortly after, you could smell something minty. Before you could question her, you felt Emily’s hands on your body, starting at your shoulders and quickly moving downwards to your breasts. “Peppermint oil, princess. Relax.” 

You could feel your body loosen with each pass of her hands over you. With your eyesight being taken from you, it felt like all of your senses were heightened. The smell of the oil was strong, but not overpowering. Mint was one of your favorite smells. It also forced your mind into overdrive, trying to figure out where Emily’s hands would end up next, what they would be doing to you also being a mystery. 

As Emily’s hands slid over your breasts, you released a lung full of air. You’d never been so turned on from such a simple massage before. “Please, Em,” you said, wiggling your hips a little, trying to get some traction between your thighs. 

“Patience, baby. I’ll get you there, don’t worry,” she said. 

You almost groaned in frustration. You knew Emily would be good on her word, but you wanted to come now. 

When you felt her hands leave your body, you could hear her shuffling around in the box she’d brought out with her. 

“You can come when you want to, princess. But once you start, you’re not stopping until I say so,” Emily said, immediately putting the wand against your clit and turning it on. 

You had to stop yourself from screaming at the vibration on your oversensitive clit. She hadn’t even really touched you yet, but Emily knew how to play your body so well. She made sure to never keep the pressure in one spot for too long, finding entertainment in watching the way your hips gyrated to get the vibrator right where you wanted it. 

You could feel your wetness seeping out of you, pooling onto the sheets below you. You hadn’t been this keyed up in so long. “Please, ma’am, please touch my clit,” you begged, trying to press down harder on the vibrator. 

“Hm, you’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me, baby.” 

Your next words got choked on a grunt as Emily finally put the vibrator against you, turning the speed setting up a notch. Your head rolled back against the pillows as you thrusted your hips down, increasing the pressure. You knew with just one more second, you were going to come. 

But you weren’t so lucky. Right before your body had a chance to contract and let go, Emily removed the vibrator. 

The whimper that left your throat was embarrassing to even your own ears. You have never been so ready, so desperate, to come for someone before. You could feel the tears of frustration welling in your eyes. 

“Aw, princess, don’t pout. Edging always makes the orgasms that much sweeter…that much stronger,” Emily said, rubbing the outside of your thigh, hoping to ease the discomfort of your missed finish. Her hands traveled lightly over your skin, keeping you worked up, but settling the fire within you just a little. 

As Emily’s hands made contact with your breasts, squeezing, pinching, and rolling your nipples between her fingers, her mouth made contact with yours. The kiss was slow, gentle almost, but sinful enough to make you see stars. Emily kissed you intensely, her tongue making passes against yours; she tasted like her drink from the bar and something else, something her, that drove you wild. 

After kissing you breathless, Emily trailed one of her hands down, lightly circling your clit causing your hips to jump. She did not linger at your swollen bud long before moving down to your pussy, thrusting two fingers inside quickly. 

“Fuck, Emily,” you moaned. 

“I love hearing my name from that mouth of yours, pretty girl. Make sure to say it when you come for me.” 

The pace she set was just what you needed; fast, hard, and deep. She was scissoring her fingers back and forth making you stretch to fit her. Within a few strokes, she found that special spot inside of you that had your back arching off of the bed and pulling at your restraints. 

“Hm,” Emily chuckled. “You’re going to come so hard for me, princess.” 

Your mouth opened as if to moan, but your voice wasn’t working. You could only focus on the feel of Emily inside, thrusting, twisting, and stretching you open. With each brush of her fingers against your g-spot, you could feel the pressure tightening, threatening to snap. “Ugh, Em,” you panted, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Like you couldn’t get enough air. 

“I know. You’re almost there. It’s going to be so good, baby.” 

With the click of the vibrator, the incredible fucking Emily was doing, and the fact that you just needed to come so badly, you almost lost it right then. 

“Aw, honey. You’re so close, aren’t you? You gonna come for me?” Emily sweetly said, each word emphasized by a hard thrust into you. 

You couldn’t speak, opting to just aggressively nod in confirmation. You were almost there. 

“When you’re done coming, I’m going to sit on that pretty face of yours. I’m going to ride you until you make me come. Now come, y/n,” Emily growled, pressing the vibrator harder against your clit, rubbing at that sweet spot inside of you faster. 

“Emily!” 

Your back bowed so hard it felt like you were bent in half. Your legs clamped together, holding Emily in place. But that didn’t stop her from continuing to rub your g-spot inside, flicking her fingers back and forth quickly. 

“Let go, all the way. Give it all to me.” 

The pressure was all encompassing. Overwhelming. With a quick bite to the swell of your breast, you came. Hard. Fluids gushing out of you, soaking Emily’s hand, her lap, and the sheets below you. “Fuck! Emily!” 

Emily brought you down from your orgasm gently, rubbing your body to bring you down. But you were so worked up you couldn’t control the shaking. Quickly undoing your restraints and blindfold, Emily gathered you up in her arms, holding you close to her, whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ears. “Good girl, honey. You came so well for me,” she said. 

You snuggled in closer to her chest, trying to catch your breath. You don’t think you’ve ever been fucked so well before. Never had someone read your body the way Emily did. 

“Was that the first time you’ve ever-” Emily started. 

“Yes. My god, Em. I didn’t even think that was possible,” you chuckled, still breathing hard. 

You could feel Emily smile against the top of your head. “Well, it was definitely possible. I’m glad I got to be your first.” 

Hopefully you’ll be my second…and third…and last.

You paused, tensed a little. 

Whoa, where did that thought come from? 

“Y/n? You okay?” 

Of course Emily could feel your muscles contract. “Yeah, Em. Just realized I still owe you that orgasm, but I don’t think I can move,” you tried to hide behind another little giggle. 

“Oh, don’t worry, princess. You can sleep. And repay me in the morning.” 

You tilted your head up, searching for Emily’s eyes. When you caught them, you almost gasped at how much affection you saw in them. You wondered if she was having the same thoughts that you were. The genuine smile on her face made you smile back. 

“I look forward to it, ma’am,” you smirked. 

Cuddling back into her chest, you sighed with contentment. 

Thank god for bars and bets.

[heylittleriotact]

Further to my post last night, here's Suture, a quickly thrown together, sweet oneshot with lots of yearning feelings where Emmrich patches up Rook and she's extremely awkward about the entire thing.

Full under the cut, ao3 here

“Hmmm… yeah that’s going to need to be stitched up.” Amina clamped her gloved hand back over her thigh and squeezed as hard as she could. She’d hastily bound it with one of the many lengths of linen scrap she carried with her, but now that they were back at the Lighthouse, it needed to be tended to properly, and soon, judging by the blood that was pooling on the floor under her right foot.

She slipped her arm free of her shield and it clattered to the stone floor as she began limping in the direction of her room, crimson ruin in her wake. Pain ripped through her leg the instant she placed the faintest bit of weight on it, but despite its desire to wobble and give out, she didn’t flinch - didn’t make any indication to her companions that it felt like someone had just dragged jagged steel over her bones. She couldn’t afford to show that kind of weakness… she didn’t know these people. Not really. 

“Where are you going?!”

Evidently someone wasn’t fooled. 

“My room: stitches,” she reiterated calmly, coming to a halt and twisting to look over her shoulder at Emmrich. Her leg protested under her with a violent shudder. “It should come as no surprise to you of all people that I know my way around a needle and thread.” She smiled at him - effortless and genuine even in the midst of blossoming agony.

It was perfectly true - never mind suturing shut the abdominal cavities of the deceased post-organ removal: she had been on the receiving end of more than enough injuries during her twenty year tenure as a Reaper of the Mourn Watch that she knew the name of every healer among the Necropolis’ infirmary staff - and the names of their spouses and children to boot. They’d pieced her back together more times than she could count, but there were occasions where she’d been injured somewhere within the catacombs that was too far and too deep for her to waste valuable blood and energy trying to get back before she bled out. 

In those cases, the only solution was to find a safe place to sit down, assess the damage, and deal with it herself using the small field kit she kept on her belt. 

Sewing her own dangling pinky finger back onto her hand in a dimly lit tomb while a corpse occupied by a rather persistent rage demon shambled around nearby looking for her had been a bracing experience, but she either needed to try and save the appendage or leave it behind, and she wasn’t keen on losing a finger. The nerves didn’t heal quite right, and it ached when it rained, but at least she still had it.

The gash in her leg was nothing she couldn’t handle. No one else needed to burden themselves with her - not when they had themselves to look after.

“Preposterous!” Emmrich proclaimed. “Look at the state of you! Clammy skin, rapid breathing… pale as the moon–” 

“That’s just how I look!”

Unwilling to relent, Emmrich lifted his chin in that scholarly way of his. “You are going into shock, dear, and endorsing you to perform any kind of medical procedure in your current condition - on yourself or anyone else - would be a grievous ethical oversight on my part.”

“He’s not wrong,” Lucanis said calmly, looking up from painstakingly cleaning the blood from one of his daggers. “You’ve lost too much blood already. I’d take him up on the offer if I were you. I would volunteer to do it myself, but I suspect you’d prefer not to sit on a sack of flour while I tend to you.” There was something of a shrug, a suggestion of a grin - he was too obscured by the shadows to see clearly. 

She still hadn’t gotten around to asking why Lucanis chose to sleep in the pantry, and now wasn’t the time to find out: he’d been just as forthcoming with the offer to help as Emmrich. 

“Really it’s not necessary. I’ve dealt with worse and I don’t want to trouble either of you… thank you though,” she turned back and took another step towards her room. Her right leg convulsed aggressively then gave out, sending her to one knee. Dammit. 

She realized she felt rather lightheaded then, and she was hoisted back to her feet by a set of arms on either side of her.

“Now that you’ve demonstrated to all of us what a tenacious and valiant Watcher you are, will you please consider letting us help you?” Emmrich was on her right, arm around her waist. He was a lot taller than her, but she could make out the wry smile on his face. She felt the hairs on the backs of her arms raise and a chill ran through her, and it wasn’t from the blood loss… it was because of him - being this close to him made her feel–

“Alright then,” she nodded, turning to Lucanis on her left, who was gripping her upper arm in case she dropped again. “Thank you Lucanis… I think I can manage with… with Emmrich’s assistance.” She felt her cheeks heat at her own words. Stop it, stop it, stop it… She pressed down harder on the wound, partly to continue staunching the bloodflow, partly to distract herself with the fresh wave of pain that rippled through her at the sensation. 

“Off we go then,” Emmrich said lightly, starting them off in the direction of the stairs, “Nice and easy… take your time, that’s it.” 

If she had it her way Amina would have preferred to sprint - the fact that Lucanis and Harding were still in the entryway watching this unfold was utterly mortifying. 

Emmrich paused when they got to the top of the stairs. His lips quirked to the side thoughtfully as he peered down. “Perhaps we should have had Lucanis along: I would offer to carry you in this circumstance but…” 

“No, this is fine!” Amina said quickly, grateful then for the eighty-some pounds of plate armour she was currently wearing. She chanced a step down and inhaled sharply through her teeth - descending the stairs was going to be a challenge, but she would get through it.

She felt Emmrich’s eyes on her, never straying from her side as she took each step, but she ignored the urge to look at him. Instead she stared forward, her left hand gripping the railing to keep herself steady while she concentrated - went to that familiar safe, bright place in her mind where the pain couldn’t reach her. 

By the time they got to the bottom, her brow was damp with sweat from the effort it had taken her. The warm scent of the fire in the hearth meshed with the aromas of various disinfectants and parchment. It immediately brought her comfort for reasons she couldn’t quite define. 

“Amina?”

She blinked and found Emmrich’s face, concern apparent upon it - he must have asked her a question that she hadn’t heard.

“Hm?”

“I said we will need to remove your armour… for the shock, you see - to help you breathe,” Was that a hint of colour on his own cheeks? “If that’s alright with you, of course,” He added. 

Exhausted, Amina could only nod, and Emmrich guided her to the carved granite slab opposite the stairs and she hauled herself up onto it so she was perched on the edge. 

“I follow extremely rigorous sanitation procedures,” He assured her as if assuming she cared at the moment that she was sitting on a working autopsy table. 

“Good. You can keep pressure on my leg while I start dealing with this armour,” she didn’t wait for him to inevitably declare that he needed to wash his hands before even dreaming of laying a hand on an open wound. She seized his wrist with bloody fingers and jammed the palm of his hand down on her thigh, holding it in place when she felt him start to pull back. “Please don’t let go — it’ll be faster if I do this.” She set to work loosening the straps of leather that held her armour together, starting with her shoulders and working her way down her arms, the sound of jingling buckles and the slip of leather through metal cutting through the silence. She worked quickly with well practiced fingers, carelessly tossing each formed piece of silverite to the floor. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Manfred shuffling towards the slab, curiousity piqued. 

“Manfred, would you kindly fetch a stack of clean rags?” Emmrich asked over his shoulder. Manfred’s shoulders tilted and he emitted an arrangement of concerned hisses. “Oh no, Ms. Ingellvar will be just fine - her femoral artery remains quite intact, but I do need to close the wound rather urgently before she loses any more blood, so pip pip.”

Manfred clicked his teeth together and set off for the rags, and Emmrich turned his attention back to Amina in time to see her struggling to reach the straps of her breastplate - they were too high up her side to reach with one hand. 

“Here, allow me,” he offered kindly, leaning forward, putting more weight on her leg as he reached under her arm and began working loose the straps with his free hand. 

“Thank you, those ones are the hardest to get at no matter how many times you do it. I’ve put this armour on and taken it off thousands of times and–” her words cut off abruptly: she had happened to glance down at Emmrich as he worked and apparently forgotten how to talk. 

His gaze lifted at her sudden silence, and the sight of his deep hazel eyes and the tip of his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth - the lingering remnant of his broken concentration - made Amina’s stomach leap in weightless abandon as if she’d just trodden on a collapsed grave. 

His positioning with his hand on her thigh and the angle he was at to reach the straps he so gallantly offered to help with put the pair of them in a somewhat compromising position, she realized: she had parted her legs to help him reach, and he was so close she could feel the heat of him; could smell whatever product he used to slick back his hair. It smelled good… like ripe cherries – burgundy and sweet - the kind that stained your lips red and filled your mouth with juice when you bit into them…

Very unprofessional… she chided herself. “ And it never gets any easier!” She completed the thought, though her voice sounded too high to her ears, as did the laugh that followed it. 

Emmrich’s brow furrowed for only a moment before she felt the weight of the breastplate lift, “There we are!” He exclaimed, all courteous decorum and effortless good cheer. He pulled the heavy chestpiece away from Amina and set it on the floor gently, leaning against the slab. “Oh dear,” he frowned when he straightened and caught sight of Amina’s face again. “Your complexion was ashen only a moment ago, but now you appear flushed… how unusual. You had better lay down.” 

“But–” 

He held up his bloodied hand, bangles singing. “Please, Amina - I am afraid I must insist.” 

Sheepish, Amina did as she was told, the armour that still covered her from the waist down scraping against the stone beneath her. He was just being nice - just doing what he would do for any of them, and here she was smelling his hair like some garden variety pervert…

From her place on the slab she could hear Manfred approaching with the rags. She craned her neck to see him, but couldn’t. When she turned her face back to the ceiling she saw Emmrich above her, a grin spreading across his face as he took one of the rags from Manfred and pressed it against her wound.

“Thank you, Manfred - and I see you’ve brought my kit as well: excellent thinking - and you came up with that all on your own! Well done!” She felt him lift his hand to examine the rag before the pressure resumed. With his other hand he set his kit beside her and flipped it open. “Feeling somewhat better with most of that heavy armour off?” 

“Yes.” She still felt lightheaded, but it was indeed easier to breathe now. 

“Splendid.” He offered her a reassuring smile - the kind that everyone who worked with the dead was capable of, herself included - but there was a subtle, relieved quality in the way the corners of his mouth turned up that surprised her. It wasn’t possible that he had been genuinely worried about her, was it? The question was left to linger in her mind when Emmrich set about loosening the straps of the remaining parts of her armour to better access the wound. 

His long fingers were dexterous, and though his movements were quick and concise, his touch was never harsh or callous. 

It was a strange position to be in, having him deliberately and methodically husk her armour from her body, piece by piece. It called to mind other circumstances in which one might expose another, one article at a time…

Stop it. Fade take me… dead animals… wet food stuck to plates and bowls… having the shits…

He removed the rag and peeled aside the damaged cuisse gingerly, humming to himself softly as he surveyed the wound without touching it. “Manfred, could you please bring a fresh rag and continue holding it over Ms. Ingellvar’s wound with as much pressure as you can muster? The bleeding has slowed enough that I can close it now, but I need to wash my hands first.” 

Amina felt Manfred sidle up alongside her on the slab, the hair-raising sensation that anyone would feel when in close proximity to a being of the Fade alerting her to his presence. He chattered at her soothingly, clearly attempting to mimic Emmrich’s tone and cadence with his soft hisses and squeaks. 

“Why am I ‘Ms. Ingellvar’ all of a sudden?” She called out in the direction of Emmrich’s retreating footsteps. She heard the soft woosh of him shedding his coat and his footfalls as he paced over to the wash basin. 

“Old habits, I’m afraid,” he chuckled in answer. “But I will refrain from the formality going forward.” 

She found she rather liked his formality, but she said, “If it’s not too much trouble.” 

There was only silence, sloshing water, and the sound of soap being lathered into skin for such a long time that she nearly sat up to see if everything was alright, but he returned to her side, freshly cleaned hands held aloft - he’d rolled up his cuffs and removed his many rings. 

“It’s no trouble at all,” he said warmly, his voice verging on a whisper, and Amina’s stomach did that strange leap again. He relieved Manfred and reached over her to his kit. “You’ve lost a good deal of blood, and there’s little we can do about that but replenish your fluids and let your body rest for a time.” Amina caught the glint of steel in Emmrich’s hand as he straightened. “I do hope these pants hold no priceless sentimental value to you - I’m going to have to cut the right leg away, I’m afraid.” He looked genuinely apologetic at this.

Hang the pants - Amina was more caught up in the realization that if he cut away the leg of her pants, her entire leg would be bared to him. She’d had far more intimate places bared to infirmary staff over the years, so she wasn’t sure why that mattered now, but it did.

“Can… couldn’t you just widen the tear in the material around the wound?” She ventured hopefully. 

Clearly sensing her apprehension, Emmrich’s already soft eyes softened further. “I will need to dress and bind your leg once I’ve placed the sutures,” he explained gently, “You have my word that I shall conduct myself with nothing but the utmost propriety - I am aware of the vulnerable position this puts you in and will do everything in my power to make this as comfortable for you as I can.” 

She nodded once, understanding that she had little other choice. “Do what you have to do.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement and started near her ankle, shearing a line up the leg of her pants with his scissors. Amina already felt cold, but as the air hit her leg, she couldn’t help but shiver. 

“There are some blankets folded on the shelf above the cosmetics and restorative waxes; Manfred, would you please take one down and place it on the chair near the fire to warm?” 

Somewhere nearby bones clicked and rattled with devoted efficiency to carry out their task.

As he set about cleaning the wound, Emmrich spared another lingering glance at Amina. 

“What is it?” She asked.

“Hmmm?” A clean rag appeared in his hand and he soaked it with a pale pink fluid in a frosted bottle that smelled floral - Amina recognized this as a common disinfectant used in the wounds of the living, and in the dead to slow decay. He pressed the saturated rag to her flesh and held it for a moment before using it to wipe away the last of the blood. It stung, but Amina knew that meant it was working.

“You keep looking at me.”

He laughed again - a light, amused sound. “My dear, are you aware of any particular patient treatment strategies wherein looking at said patient during the application of the treatment isn’t advantageous?”

Well when he put it like that…

“No, I just…” she trailed off, watching him draw another clean rag from the pile with a flourish and douse it with a pale green concoction this time - a fungal tincture that would stave off infection. “You didn’t have to do this… thank you.” 

He gently swept the rag over her skin and made sure the tincture penetrated the wound. “The work that we do can be lonely. We are often misunderstood by those unfamiliar with the role we fill, and even amongst our own there are politics and petty talkers that divide us from within in the hope that isolating perceived threats will further their own aspirations.” He set the rag aside and reached over her into his kit again. “We will always be better… think better, learn better, when we are of a unified mind, rather than a fractured one.”

“I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

Emmrich dropped a curved needle into a small cup disinfectant and swirled it around. “Or a foolish dreamer perhaps… either way: I may not have to do this, but do not doubt for a moment that I want to.” 

Amina didn’t know what to say to that. His sentiments made her wish that she had known Emmrich before she’d been exiled from the Watch. Perhaps things would have turned out differently for her had he been a presence in her life then…

“This is going to be somewhat uncomfortable for you, but I’ve been told I have a soft hand, and I’ll work as quickly as I’m able to.” The introspective, somewhat somber demeanour had vanished and Professor Volkarin had returned. He held up the curved needle and thread he must have prepared without her noticing. Green light danced up his side and illuminated half of his face, casting sharply defined shadows over his brow and well defined cheekbones. 

Amina didn’t bother asking if it was the living or the dead who had praised his so-claimed soft hand, but as the needle punctured her skin and the first loop was drawn, she felt herself relax against the cold stone table.

He worked with utter precision, his left hand carefully holding her thigh, trickling gentle healing magic into her as he guided the needle cleanly through one side of the wound and out the other, his pace almost rhythmic. Amina lost herself in the steady sound of his focused breathing and the whisper of his knuckles brushing ever so softly over her skin until at last he tied off the final suture and cut it free from the needle. 

“That’s the worst of it done. I daresay I’ve worked on corpses who put up more of a fuss than you.” He set aside the needle and helped guide Amina into a sitting position with a hand on her back. 

“If you’re that gentle with the dead, I don’t think they have anything to complain about.” She looked down at her leg and the textbook perfect row of stitches on her leg that spanned about four inches in length over the top of her thigh: it would almost certainly scar, but it would be just another one of many - she’d long ago stopped feeling self conscious about them. “You know what you’re doing, I’ll give you that.”

Emmrich placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head, “From one professional to another, I am humbled by your praise.” 

Professionals, right… they were professionals. This was entirely professional.

“Now if you’ll please bend your leg somewhat… yes, like that - right there is good - I’ll dress and bind this and you’ll be well on the road to recovery.” 

Professionals. 

The word kept bouncing around her head as she silently observed Emmrich apply a poultice to the wound, and with each pass of the linen roll around her thigh it got louder and louder: she’d been a ‘professional’ her entire life up until this point… what if that title didn’t fit the person she was anymore?

“There. All done.”

Amina slowly shifted in place and dangled her legs over the edge of the table: the dressing was tight but not too tight.

“Ah!” Emmrich’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead and he rushed to tuck in the end of the linen dressing that had popped loose when Amina moved. “My apologies - can’t have that coming loose, now can we?” A stray strand of his hair that had worked itself free as he stitched her up brushed against Amina’s forehead as he fussed with the dressing and she went rigid at the contact as if it had sent a current through her.

Emmrich froze in place as well, and slowly lifted his eyes, apparently only now becoming aware of how close his face was to hers: she could feel his breath on her skin, warm and alive… could count the rust-coloured flecks that were scattered around his dilated pupils. He was between her legs again, hips pressed up against the slab. How had that happened?

She felt him run his thumb ever so softly across the linen on her thigh, and her breath hitched in answer to the unexpected but not entirely unwelcome sensation. 

He cleared his throat, eyes darting from hers. “That should hold now.” 

Though his hand did not linger unnecessarily, she could swear she felt the ghost of his caress one more time as he drew away. 

“Thank you,” Amina managed. “I’m uh… I’m quite thirsty - could I trouble you for some water?” She slid onto the floor, gingerly testing her weight on her injured leg - it still throbbed, but she was accustomed to being in pain. Her knees felt rubbery, but that had nothing to do with the blood loss at this point. 

“Of course!” Emmrich answered just a little too quickly. “The blanket that Manfred set by the fire should be warm by now - I expect you’d like to retire to your own room to recuperate, but it would be no inconvenience to Manfred and I if you wanted to warm yourself by the fire and stay for some tea? You need to consume plenty of fluids to make up for the blood you lost, you see. As I’m sure you know, the average person circulates approximately five liters of blood through their body, and you surely lost at least–”

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hear him talk - she actually quite enjoyed his academic rabbit trails - but she definitely did want to sit by the fire, and… she didn’t want to leave. Not after all the fuss it took to get her down here in the first place. Staying awhile longer was the least she could do to demonstrate her gratitude, right?

“Yes!” She all but blurted out over Emmrich’s developing lecture on hematology. 

He was practically beaming as he helped her limp over to the plush winged armchair in front of the fire, and as she sat she realized this must be his preferred place to unwind after a long day: there was a small table next to the chair that held a selection of dog-eared books, a pair of rectangular, gold framed spectacles, and a pipe. She stared at the objects, intrigued by the intimate peek into Emmrich’s life. 

She glanced to the right where a matching chair should logically be, but there was nothing there - only empty space that made her sad for some reason. 

She snapped out of her daze  when Emmrich placed the blanket over her, but left her to arrange it to her preference. “Comfortable?” He asked. 

“Very.” Amina couldn’t help but smile: he may be doing this out of the goodness of his own heart, but there was no denying that it made her feel special to be fussed over by another person like this. Sure there was that strange occurrence with the dressing, but it was probably nothing - just a misunderstanding on her part. Emmrich was just an uncommonly generous person, that was all there was to it. 

He pulled over a stool and kept her company by the fire as she sipped her tea, feeling warmed inside and out by the crackling flames and relaxing chamomile brew. She dozed off eventually, drifting off to Emmrich expanding on his thoughts regarding the use of ectoplasmic reagents in binding rituals… it was genuinely fascinating… but her eyes were so heavy, and her head too. She tried to keep listening once her eyes were shut, but she was so comforted by the scent of fire, parchment, and disinfectant… a scent that she realized reminded her of home just before sleep took her at last.

Home…

[biblio-smia]

all these pictures of you

tasm! peter parker x reader

summary: the amount of photos peter has of you versus him is a problem you've taken upon yourself to fix

masterlist | requests are open! buy me a ko-fi!

a lazy sunday. a much needed one, considering the bruises peter had collected the night before.

damp air begins creeping out from under the bathroom door just as peter begins washing his hair - you can tell from the familiar crash of the shampoo bottle he always drops.

you fight the feeling of heavy eyes stubbornly, the sound of peter's shower threatening to lull you to sleep without him - only disrupted by the piercing ringing coming from peter's side of the bed.

it takes a while to track the noise of an alarm peter probably forgot to turn off in the mess of duvets, your fingers tapping the screen frantically once you find peter's phone.

there's only one big crack on his screen this time - peter's gotten better at taking care of his phones ever since he started calling you while out on patrol.

your own phone is elsewhere, either left behind in another room or out of battery and you need something to keep you awake until peter gets back. he should be almost done by now but each second feels like an eternity with such soft pillows under your head.

peter's password is muscle memory - if he could get your face to unlock his phone he would. instinct pulls you to the camera app to snap a few stupid photos but curiosity leads you to the contents of the rest of peter's gallery.

it's you, unsurprisingly. other than a few stray screenshots and some beautiful nature shots, it's you. you with a drink in your hand, you watching something on your phone, you with your back turned to peter.

dozens upon dozens, multiple scrolls worth of pictures of you - all of them probably the best anyone's been able to capture of you.

peter takes every picture of you with care - you're not sure there's a single photo where even the lighting looks off. even photos taken in five seconds tops were better work than you could've ever done.

you try to remember how many photos like these you have of peter. there's no shortage of photos of him on your phone but you're pretty positive the closest thing you've ever gotten is the photo currently on your lock screen - peter winking at you through a tall glass.

the bathroom door opens with a creak and peter sighs happily as he pads out of the bathroom, freshly washed and dried hair falling over his forehead even as he tried to push it away.

he's barely out a few seconds before he's jumped into bed with a groan muffled by the thick covers. it's not long before his face appears next to yours, sporting a cozy smile that makes your insides warm.

"watcha looking at?" peter hums, settling against his pillows and attempting to pull you into his arms.

he's surprised at your resistance, questions in his raised eyebrows as you only hum a response and lift yourself to hover over him.

you hoist yourself up and back up, aiming peter's camera carefully.

"what're you doing?" peter laughs, instinctively covering his face.

"shhh," you whisper, pulling peter's hand off carefully. you're really not sure how he does it but you do manage to get some photos of peter with a half-decent composition - though you'd argue that his face makes up for your lack of precision.

you let yourself lean into peter now, back to his chest with his arms wrapped securely around you as you analyze your new pictures. peter is greedy, nudging his nose into your skin right above where he kisses it.

"what's this about, hmm?" peter hums against your skin.

"nothing," you mumble, sending yourself all the photos. "you're just pretty."

peter's quiet, unusually so. his hand comes up from your waist to take his phone back and set it on his nightstand, arms coming to turn you towards him.

he's careful with you, hands holding your face, thumbs rubbing over your cheeks.

"come on, how can i not kiss you for that one?”

[lvsifer]

my dearest Feini @sauron-kraut tagged me on 7-sentence wip and general wip game so here we go 💞

sequel wip to this lil rhaenicent modern au:

More people push onto the dancefloor until Rhaenyra is barely a hand’s length away from Alicent, crowded in from all sides, everyone moving to the same rhythm, bodies together like drops of water in a thundering river, and Alicent thinks of the dark woods in which she spent so many hours of her childhood, wonders if there too centuries ago, humans were dancing dancing dancing to a drum beat. With a rush she feels part of the long line stretching back six million years into the human past. Dancing from the beginning. In a haze she smiles at Rhaenyra. Incredible that humanity has always done this, always loved, danced—Rhaenrya smiles back—connected.

Alicent swans her arms around Rhaenyra’s neck and Rhaenyra steps closer, hands on Alicent’s hips. It feels so good.

tagging @jamlocked @theskeletonprior and any and all moots who want to do this (esp my dune and hotd moots!)

[v-thinks-on]

“Professor, are you okay?”

“Just hang tight, and we’ll be there to rescue you as soon as we can!”

“Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Troublesome students.” Magneto remarked, lying back against the cushions of an absurdly luxurious couch.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Professor Xavier said with a sigh. “I wouldn’t mind a hand with the school, you know.”

Erik gave Charles a pointed look, and instead focused his powers on pouring a glass of wine. “A drink, Charles?”

“Please, but not too much or they’ll think you’ve done something truly horrible to me.”

Erik smirked.

[bluewatersfairy]

daydreamin' - j.t.

a/n: I started writing this at the beginning of the '22-'23 season and have been meaning to do something with it for literally 2 years. Hope you enjoy lmao!

synopsis: reader gets a little too lost in her head whilst on set with Jayson

warnings: mature content, MINORS DNI! small mentions of oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, exhibitionist kink mentioned/depicted, slight degrading/name calling (literally once if you squint), filth but like in a fun way.

word count: 5.3k (imagine if i could just shut the fuck up)

•••

Time felt slowed and your eyelids were droopy, despite the clock behind you reading 11am.  An early call time mixed with a red-eye meant that there wasn’t much time to rest horizontally, or at all.  Some things were worth the sacrifice for though.  He was most definitely one of those things.

When the story first landed on your desk, you almost couldn’t believe it.  The Celtics had been playing on your television for as long as you could remember.  You’d grown up watching every draft and noting down each new player that joined the roster.  You were always in to support the new up-and-comers as a child and in your professional life.  

You’d written and pitched a few stories about the young core over recent years but nothing had ever been picked up for a full length piece.  The best you got was a short piece for one special edition that highlighted the great women that stood behind the biggest sportsmen in sports today.  The NBA section was one of the smallest word counts you’d been given, but you did the best you could.

A full length piece like this being handed to you, a cover story no less, made little sense to you.  You weren’t going to turn it down, but it took you a few minutes to process what was being asked of you.  Truthfully, it hadn’t properly sunk in until you were on the plane, flying cross-country for a 48-hour stay.  A full cover story on someone with all eyes on him meant that it was going to be the biggest opportunity of your career.  Not only was it a big deal for him, it was for you too.  You were not going to let yourself waste it by getting lost in him. 

Even as the sirens wailed, trying to pull you back to reality, your eyes couldn’t pull away from Jayson.  Like magnets, his hands forced you to scan over his chest with his next pose.  The fake sweat that had been sprayed over him caught the light as the photographer wanted and your heart almost stopped.  You didn’t understand why this story meant he had to pose for thirst-trap-like pictures in his Celtic uniform.  Did the universe have something against you?

Someone called your name from behind you and snapped you out of your daydream.  They were clearly impatient, the sound of a clicking pen matching with the click of dress shoes on concrete floors.  With your attention turned back to the little prep work you had left to complete, you did a final once over of the questions you’d prepared for Jayson.  His agent was watching every move you made and when you finally handed them the sheet, they marched off calling a hurried ‘thank you’ to you.  

You took a deep breath for the 100th time and looked over your recorder again.  Full battery?  Yes.  Storage status?  Completely empty.  Vocal tests?  All three completed.  It was fine, perfect even; ready to go whenever Jayson was.  Your anxiety, however, was making it difficult for you to be ready.  In a quiet tone, you started to count to ten, reaching for a cracker as you did.  You needed to nibble on something that wouldn’t come straight back up.  Looking at your hand holding the cracker, you noticed just how obviously your now jumpy nature was.  Your nerves were starting to present to others; this is not good, you thought to yourself, just fake it, smile and push through.  You needed water, a lot of it.  Was your throat always this dry?

“They want me to wear a tie,” Jayson’s voice cut through your thoughts, forcing you to turn around a little too quickly.  His deep and raspy tone had caught you off guard.  Your body’s immediate response was to send spirals to the pit of your stomach and float to your chest with impeccable speed.

“If you’d rather not, I don’t think it’s necessary?”  you replied, your uncertainty and want to please him clear as day. 

“Nah,” he shook his head and flashed his charming smile at you, “they’ve got a vision, I’ll stick to it.”

He had changed into his formal look for the shoot.  It was a classic black Dior suit with a white button up.  It was tailored to his figure beautifully and gave him a really classically handsome look.  It was the lining of the suit jacket that made it special as well as the socks he wore.  Custom-made with embellishments of his home city and his mother and sons’ names stitched over his heart.  He looked incredibly dapper and handsome, clean and perfect.  

You swallowed and let your eyes fall to his hands as he showed you the three ties he’d been given.  They were all quite simple and classic, but you were immediately drawn to the Dior silk black ribbon tie with a bee embellishment

“Which one do you think?” Jayson held all three of them up to his chest and posed for you.  He let out something of a chuckle, his eyes focusing on you as he scrunched his nose.  He was absolutely adorable, and he was starting to make you melt.

You gently tapped on the tie you thought was best and expected him to step away and give you a second to breathe.  Instead, he reached behind you to put the unchosen ties down before putting the one you had selected over his shoulder. 

“Here,” Jayson said, starting to tweak his collar, “could you, y’know?”

You nodded your head quickly and took the tie from him, your fingertips lingering against his warm skin for a second too long.

“They’ve got a stool here somewhere,” you said more to yourself than him as your eyes scanned the room.  You spotted it and brought it over to him, hoping it would help close the height difference.

Jayson’s gaze stayed on your face from the moment you lifted the tie from his hand until the moment you stepped off of the stool.  It was intense.  It didn’t help the way he smirked when you fiddled with the tie.  Or the way he tugged on his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing.  You almost told him to stop, not that you were actually sure what it was that you wanted him to stop doing.  If anything, you were the one that needed to stop. 

It took almost every part of you to stop the image of you wrapping the tie around his wrists instead of the collar of his dress shirt.  Like dominos, the scene that unfolded couldn’t be stopped, so you’d just have to push it down and ignore it.

Ignore the way he’d look, completely naked with his wingspan stretched out to either side of your bed.  The cool black silk ties secured his big hands against the wooden headboard.  He didn’t struggle against the ties, all he did was wriggle his wrists to see how much he could do.  It wasn’t a lot, he could tell this wasn’t your first time. 

His head turned away from his wrists to find you standing at the foot of the bed, only in an emerald green two-piece lingerie set.  It complimented your deep brown skin devilishly well, Jayson couldn’t look away.  He let out a deep, throaty groan as he watched you slip your thumbs under the hem of your panties and began to pull them down your hips.

“You’re so good to me,” he part moaned, “look at you baby, I can’t say nothin’.”

His entire body flexed as you knelt on the bed only in your bra.  You licked your lips and watched his girthy cock move with the rest of his muscles.  You were so tempted to crawl up his body, and stop with your mouth hovering dangerously close to his dick.  Teasingly, you’d kiss the tip and gently caress the shaft.  Your mouth watered at the thought.  You knew yourself well enough that you wouldn’t stop with a little teasing.  You’d end up taking the whole thing in your mouth, making a mess of your lipstick and your mascara as your eyes watered.  

To compromise, when your mouth hovered over his cock, you gripped the shaft with your left hand.  Jayson’s response was similar to one of pain or a burn – a gasp of surprise that expressed both pleasure and discomfort.  It made you giggle and you wondered if he had ever been like this with anyone else.  

“Fuck,” he dragged out as he watched your spit fall from your plump lips to his tip.  

You rubbed your thumb over the head and dragged the saliva down his shaft, pumping him so you could hear him sing out in pleasure.  He threw his head back and looked up for the first time that night.  He was met with the surprise of a lifetime.  You had had a mirror on the ceiling installed, and he now had two of the best views possible. 

“You could be a professional,” Jayson said as he looked over himself in the mirror.  “I’ve never been able to get my ties just right.”

“I’ll add that to my resume,” you smiled at him and carefully stepped down from the stool.  “Great sports journalist, even better tie-tyer.”

“You could pimp yourself out to fashion houses and modelling agencies,” he laughed, “you’d get an inside scope of what goes on behind the scenes as well.”

“That’s not half bad, actually.”  You shared a moment of laughter, and another of silence and gazing at each other before you were brought back to the real world by the photographer.  

Jayson went back to posing, though now it was less structured.  They were getting shots of him smiling and showing off the inside lining of his jacket, as well as a few of him holding his shoes.  You took a seat and let yourself go over your notes, though you were still distracted by him.  You weren’t sure if it was that he was a natural in front of the camera or simply that he was very handsome, but every time you looked up, he looked beyond good.  You were constantly reminded of just how fine he was and it was so overwhelming.  

He oozed that type of physical attraction that you felt deep in your uterus.  Your whole body just wanted him everywhere and there wasn’t much to stop it.  His quiet manner was no help either.  As a journalist, you were always digging for a bigger story and you wanted to just get into his mind and learn as much about him as possible.  He was easy to talk to, and you found that a connection between the interviewer and interviewee was what made a great piece.  

You needed this to be the best story of your career, an opportunity like this had the possibility of elevating your life and opening countless doors.  Hopefully, you’d finally get that job offer that would bring you to the east coast, the one you’d been looking for for close to a year.  

Your name being called from across the room pulls your gaze away from Jayson and you began to make your way over to what looked to be a team meeting.  There wasn’t much for you to say or do, except listen and nod when appropriate.  Jayson’s team was taking the lead of a majority of this shoot as he had a few other things he had to fit into his day.  You knew going in that the interview portion would come at the end, that you were really only there to get a feel of the vibe and find your footing with him.  

“I’ve gone over your questions,” Jayson’s agent turned to face you, “they’re good, nothing I can tell he won’t answer.  He seems to like you as well so he should give you more than you need for this to be an excellent cover story.” 

You nodded your head, agreeing, to show you were listening and noticed their gaze had gone back to Jayson.  When you turned to follow it, you found Jayson was looking directly at you.  He wasn’t being subtle about it either.  When your eyes found his, he smiled his stunning smile and the camera flashed.

“I might need you to cover him more often if you can get him to smile like that,” his agent commented, “he’s like a child sometimes when he smiles for the camera.”  Without another word, they’d walked away and you were standing alone again.  

You could sense that things were starting to move a bit quicker.  His team seemed to be prepping more and you caught bits and pieces of the requests and questions being thrown around amongst them.  Someone was sent off to get coffee, someone else was sent outside to make sure the balcony was accessible, comfortable and private.  You had assumed you would interview Jayson inside but it seemed everyone else had a different idea in mind.  

It was Jayson who approached you first to invite you out there to get started.  In your past experiences of interviewing professional and famous athletes, this wasn’t a norm.  Usually you were sent to the preferred interview spot to wait for the interviewee and they certainly weren’t the people to direct you there either.  But this was Jayson.  This is the narrative he’d created for himself, a polite, respectable young man.  

He walked two steps behind you, now in a pair of grey sweats and a black Jaylen Brown graphic tee.  He was more relaxed now and in turn, you felt a little more at ease.  If he was still in his Dior suit, it would’ve been a different story, you would’ve felt under-dressed in your business-casual outfit.  

“It’s beautiful out here,” Jayson said as you both stepped out, his hand reaching to the small of your back to guide you around the table and chairs to see the view properly.

“It is,” you breathed out as you placed your hands on the balcony rail.  You felt like you could see forever from right there, like you were at the top of the world.

“It’s so much better at night, when all the city lights are on.  You really feel like you’re on top of the world,” he paused as he placed his hand next to yours, “it’s romantic too.  All the lights in the dark, you’re just a world away from everyone else.  No one can see or hear you up here, it’s comfortable.”  you watched closely as his hand moved to rest on top of yours. 

You tried to imagine it, what it would feel like to be this far removed from everyone, just you and him.  The small of your back seemed to burn as you tried to remember what it felt like to have his hand there.  What would it feel like if there was no material in the way, and he was pushing you forward, making your back arch?

Pitch black surrounding you and just the sparkling lights of the city far below you.  You can barely hear the cars driving by, just the soft breeze brushing past your ears and the melodic rhythm and harmonious sounds of your grunts and moans mixing together.  You’d felt far too exposed when Jayson had first started to undress you but his mouth had quickly erased all your worries and insecurities from your mind.  He covered you in kisses before he reached your core.  He’d turned you around so fast, you’d barely had a moment to catch yourself on the balcony before he’d buried his face in your pussy, his tongue lapping at your folds and only breaking to nip at your inner thighs and round ass. 

The second you’d got him naked after he’d chivalrously made you cum twice, his body was immediately pushed up against yours.  Your hands were hot on his body, grabbing at his waist and hips while your lips fought against his own.

“You’re eager,” he teased as he broke away from your lips, grinning as he dropped his head to your clavicle, “‘bit of a change from before.”

“I think it’s more than you’re an exhibitionist and I think logically about how sex with us works.”  Jayson stood up straight at your rebuttal so he could look down at you properly. 

“Exhibitionists like to be seen and heard, look around princess,” he smirked as he spun you back so your ass was pressed to his front again, “no one can see or hear us up here.”

Jayson, truthfully, was exhilarated by the freedom that came with fucking outside and it became very obvious to you, very quickly.  He was louder than usual, but he was making you that much louder too.  His voice was rough as he told you to let him hear you, telling you to say his name louder and louder.  He wanted you to praise him unashamed and let everyone know exactly who was making you cum at that very moment.  

He also wanted someone to see how good you were for him, he was basically begging to see a flash in a window somewhere.  Jayson Tatum and his beautiful mystery whore, oh he could see it in white writing as he pulled out and sprayed his load on your back.  

“Do you want a napkin?”  Jayson asked as he got comfortable in the chair across from you.  

One of the people from his team had brought out their coffees and had given Jayson a handful of napkins.  You made a note in your mind that it was likely because he asks for extra when he had his son with him and it was just what his team did without thinking.  

You smiled and took one from him before crossing your legs and letting yourself relax into the chair a bit.  You mumbled a thanks as you slipped it under your tablet that was resting on your lap.  

You pressed the green button on your voice recorder and placed it on the table in front of you before asking Jayson if he was ready.  He nodded his head eagerly and rubbed his hands together.

“Where would you like to start?”  you smiled across at him and he returned the smile.

“In the middle, like all the good stories.” 

That was what you wanted to hear and you glanced at your notes, not that you needed to.  You knew exactly where you were going to start.

“In your relatively short career thus far, you’ve managed to accomplish many things other players spend their entire lives trying to reach, and many retire without touching the surface.  You’ve got gold medals, a signature shoe, multiple all-NBA placings and now a world championship, and that’s within the world of basketball.  If we stepped out, we could list so many more business endeavours.  We know you idolised Kobe and his own off-season adventures and his life outside the league went far beyond basketball.  What I want to know is what you want your future off-seasons to look like?  Do you have a desire to pursue something creative?”  

It was a long-winded question, but asking it made Jayson light up, this seemed to spark something that he was eager to share.  Starting in the middle was always the best when you had a good vibe with an interviewee.  You’d managed to create an emotional bond of sorts with Jayson already so you didn’t have to do the relationship-building-questions.  You could just ask something incredibly personal and trust that you would be given something you can easily build off of.  And that was exactly what Jayson gave you.

He begun by explaining that in the last two-years or so, he’d grown an interest in art and had started something of a collection.  “It’s not necessarily something to brag about compared to some of the collections I’ve been exposed to in the art-world, but it’s a start and I’m really proud of it.”

He was inspired too, he continued to explain.  He loved the portraits and landscapes he’d been exposed to and the realism of it all, but he was a story-lover above all things and it’s those type of paintings that draw him in.  

“You don’t always know straight away what you’re looking at, but when you read or hear the title of the painting, or a brief explanation about it, you start to see the painting as the story it is.”

“Would you ever consider picking up a brush and trying something yourself?”

“I think about it all the time,” he admitted with a tilt of his head, “but I wouldn’t want it to be for anyone but me, y’know?  Like them sex portraits and intimate art pieces that are created out of lust and love.  

“I’m lucky ‘cause my job is my passion, right?  I go to work and I train really hard and play even harder and while basketball is a creative process, it’s set in its ways.  I’m so attracted to the idea of doing something that’s physically and mentally freeing and I think that’s why I’m kinda obsessed with those types of paintings and why I wanna make them myself.”

He paused for a second, his eyes pulling away from yours for the first time since he’d started talking about it.  “Maybe,” he adds quickly, “I maybe want to make them myself.”  He laughed lightly and shook his head a little, definitely questioning a little bit why he’d said so much.

But it was good, it was what you wanted to hear from him.  It humanised him, showed more of his personality that he was so protective of.  It was an easy spot for you to jump from as well, you had a million things that you could ask from here and you sure as hell were gonna ask them.  You just had to avoid anything to do with sex and lust, because that was where you’d been stuck for the better half of the last 3 hours since you’d arrived at this shoot.

It was not helping you at all either, that Jayson was manspreading in his seat and you could definitely see his dickprint in his grey sweats.  It was unprofessional, of course, but you could not stop looking at it every few minutes.  And while he was talking about a sex portrait, you could’ve sworn you’d seen it react.  God help your mind and where it was running off to in that moment.

A locked door and a series of paints could be spread all around him and he could be instructing you what to do.  Promising you everything was safe and it was just an idea he had, and a massive canvas he’d found a little too easily.  

Or maybe it would start more innocently.  He’d wanted to try a live-model art class but it felt a little wrong for him, as a well known face and figure around Boston, to show up to a class to draw a naked woman.  So instead, he’d ask you to.  Sketching would turn to painting, or him trying to do something abstract.

“Can I see it?” you’d crossed your arm over your chest, holding your large breasts from spilling out as you walked to stand beside him.  He had this look of amusement on his face that you quickly shared.

What he’d painted and sketched maybe looked somewhat like you, if you focused on your body shape, but everything else was unclear.  You bit back a laugh and tried to wait for Jayson to say something regarding what he’d done.  

“I don’t think painting is my God given talent,” he mumbled quietly and before you could stop yourself, you started laughing.  Jayson turned to look at you and watched for a moment, before he very smoothly flicked paint over your arms and chest.  

“I didn’t say anything!” You squealed as he managed to throw a small amount of paint on you again.  There was this look on his face now that seemed so joyous yet dangerous, like he was plotting something that was no good.  

Your suspicious were confirmed when he started to pull off his own clothes and you realised that he was evening the playing field – this was now war.  Like teenagers, the two of you started running around the room throwing paint at one another and laughing with the highest amounts of joy you’d experienced in so long.  It was freeing and peaceful.  The type of thing, you realised, love songs and stories were made of.  

“God, I love you,” Jayson confessed as he grabbed you around the waist, his chest covered in the red and yellow paint that covered your hands, and you covered in the blue and green that covered his.  

“I love you,” you replied with a massive grin, your arms wrapping around him and you pressed your lips to his.  

“I have an idea,” Jayson smiled as rubbed your core over his dick.

“Are you ever not horny?” you asked, feeling just how much he’d started to feel in a very short amount of time.

“‘Could ask you the same thing?” he smirked before raising his eyebrows at you.  

It was the easiest transition from him holding you to the two of you on the floor, on top of a massive canvas he’d had laying there for the past few days.  You’re on top of him, hands pressed against the canvas as he switched between gripping your hips and your tits, while you rode his cock like a pro.  Your head was thrown back, the lube he’d drenched on his cock before you climbed on made everything feel so much better.  

“Roll your hips just like that baby,” he encouraged you with dark eyes, “you know how to do me right.”

You keep going on top of him until he tells you to stop.  You climbed off him and watched as he hit his cock roughly.  He didn’t want to cum yet, he wanted to do more, you could see it in his face.  You carefully lent forward, your hands leaving prints on the canvas and you gently kissed his lips.

“You okay?” he asked softly as he slipped his hand down your back.

“I’m okay, baby,” you smiled, “I’m just checking if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” he echoed and kissed you again, “I have an idea though.”

He sat up as he spoke and moved to be behind you.  He kissed your shoulders and your neck and moved you gently, but with a certain sense of control that made you that much hotter.  You on all fours had given him this idea of your body’s print on the canvas.  Your tits were covered in paint, as was the rest of your torso, it would be a sight to see.  One he needed to see.

He pushed your chest down and guided your ass up leaving your pretty pussy on full display for him.  He let a stream of spit drip onto your throbbing hole and pressed his thumb against it, rubbing and teasing you and making you moan loudly.  You pushed your hips back and wiggled your ass, trying to get him to slip inside you again.

“I want you face down and ass up till I fill that pussy up,” he ordered, his hand pushing you down even more so you were pressed fully into the canvas.

“Whatever you want Jay, just fuck me.”

When he slipped into you again, he filled you to the hilt and did nothing to hold himself back.  He fucked you into the canvas and watched with a devilish grin as you spread your hands out to try and grip on to something.  It left pretty marks over the canvas and made him think more and more about how your tit print is gonna look.

“Your tits are gonna look so good on here baby,” he moaned before smacking your ass, “almost as good as you fucking feel right now, oh fuck.”

You turned your head to the side and let your moans sing along with his.  He was so turned on that it was driving you crazy, you didn’t even know what it was but you needed it to happen more.

“Are you gonna cum?”

“Say that again?” you asked as you lowered your coffee mug from your lips, your cheeks red.

“Are you gonna come?” Jayson asked again, “to the ring ceremony?  I know you’ve covered me and Jaylen before, so it would make sense if they fly you out for it.”

You smiled and nodded your head, “I hope they do.  I’ll let them know you asked, might give them the push to do it.”  

“You can give them my number if you want, they can call and I’ll let them know that I personally want you there.”  He winked at you and made you blush yet again.  

You only had a few more questions left, you’d gotten a lot of content from Jayson in the past 30 minutes, you were really grateful for it.  You knew it would read well too and would most likely give you more opportunities for future cover stories.  You knew you could write this well.  You were determined to as well, not just for yourself but for Jayson too.  

You had one final question to ask and it made you smile, this was all very full circle considering you started with a middle-type question.

“Lastly, how are you?  How does it feel to be doing a cover story?”

He chuckled a little and rubbed his temple, “no matter how many I do, I always love doing them.  I forget how good it feels to be in front of the camera, honestly.  I feel real important and I really enjoy being the centre of attention.”  

You giggled a little at this comment and it makes him smile even more, “I really enjoyed talking to you too, I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Hopefully when I’m in for the ring ceremony,” you replied and you both share a short laugh before you’re thanking him and officially ending your audio recording.

Wrapping things up is a much quicker process than getting everything set up.  Before you know it, you’ve shaken everyone on his team's hands and thanked them for having you.  The photographers have told you they’ll be in contact within the next few days and just like that you’re standing in the elevator and the doors are almost closed.

Almost closed before someone stuck their hand in and forced the doors open again.

“Sorry,” Jayson said and slid in quickly, and pushed the closed door button.  He moved to stand beside you and together, you watched the doors closed.

“I’ve been waiting to do this all day,” Jayson mumbled as he cupped your face in his hand and kissed you.  You welcomed his embrace and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Hey baby,” you cooed, looking up at him.

“How long are you here for?” he asked, his hand not so subtly grabbing at your behind, “I’m not leaving your side for the rest of it.”

“30 hours,” you went on your tiptoes quickly and kissed the base of his neck, “I have a couple things I want to do.”

“Mm,” he hummed at the feeling of your lips still on his neck, “I’m so proud of you, this is such a big opportunity and you crushed all that shit.  Everyone was saying they’re so impressed with you.”  

“Do you wanna show me how proud you are?” you asked looking up at him, finally feeling like you can let out everything you’ve been feeling and thinking about.

“Oh,” Jayson said as he realised, “okay then, we gotta go.”

[sinful-skeptic]

I think it’s weird how there’s a double standard when it comes to atheists. So if i tell a religious person that i’m atheist, they’ll start interrogating me about my life. They would just assume that my atheism is because of some trauma that happened to me.

And then they would assume that atheists know everything about the universe. They would show you a phenomenon or whatever and tell you to explain it. And if you don’t know, they’ll think it’s a “gotcha” moment. Yet they allow it when people who identify with their religion barely know anything about it.

Like you can’t expect an atheist to debate with you anytime. We’re not omnipotent. We don’t know every single thing about the world, just like they don’t know every single thing about their religion. They’re holding us on a higher standard. And the reason is obvious.